4 comments/ 99046 views/ 15 favorites Disaster on Station 12 Ch. 1 By: Krraaazzzzyyyyy "Mr. Anderson," the doctor said gravely, "the rescue teams have discovered your wife's body on the wreckage of the Station 12 disaster. They are working on retrieving it now. There is good news, and bad. Technically, she is dead. As you know, life support is only marginally functioning on the space station now, and fortunately, your wife's body, what remains of it, is perfectly preserved by the freezing temperatures. There has been no damage to her brain, although the rest of her body is a loss." I paused to let all this sink in, the grief and terror which had captured my heart since the disaster occurred was not sure whether to loosen, or tighten it's grip on me with the news. I thought of the disaster. For years, Station 12 had been our home. She worked there as a secretary in the offices, I worked as an engineer in the labs of the outer space manufacturing plant owned by Space Components, Inc. that made perfect mechanical components in the zero gravity environment of space. The "asteroid" that had managed to make it through a small gap in the energy field around the station had been no larger than a grain of salt. And yet it had punched a hole right through the station's outer hull, cut through the softer things inside, emerged out the other side, bounced off the inside of the energy field and punched through again, ricocheting in this manner a few times before becoming lodged in, of all things, the stone of my wife's diamond engagement ring, which was hard enough to stop it, although the force had ripped my poor wife's arm from her body. By then I am sure she, like all else aboard, had already been dead, thank God. The station had folded in upon itself by the time the rescue crews arrived, crushing most of my wife's body, but apparently not her skull. The skull that contained her brain, and everything she knew. "So what," I cried in despair, "she's dead… oh God! No!" And then I dissolved into sobs. The Doctor's hand on my shoulder stopped me, and I looked up. "I think there may be a way to save her, Mr. Anderson." I sniffled, "Continue…" was all I could say, for my heart was in my throat. "I believe we have the technology to save her, though it is questionable ethically. As you know, we have been growing human body parts from DNA samples, to use as replacement parts, for years." I knew what he was talking about, the DNA came either from the person themselves, or in some rarer cases from close relatives, and the cloned body parts negated the need to operate on donors. There were problems with the technology, as it seemed that cloned parts aged much faster than natural parts, but often it beat having no part at all. And cloned parts from one's own DNA were rarely rejected by the immune system. And by growing only the parts needed, and never growing a brain, the debate over clone souls was avoided. I nodded. "Well," the Doctor continued, "we could transplant her brain into a new body. Since she is already in her 40's, she shouldn't experience geriatrics any sooner than normal. However, the station is collapsing further as we speak, and unless we hurry we cannot have a new body ready in time. There is too much confusion aboard the Station to have a sample of her DNA sent down, so we will have to look to a blood relative, someone very close. Any suggestions?" My wife's Mother was long dead, her DNA rotting in an old fashioned coffin, and she'd had no sisters. She had a brother, but cloning him and putting her female brain and identity into his male body would have been unfair. The only logical choice was our 19 year old daughter who I had been visiting at her University when the accident happened. "Our daughter, Lissette," I said, "would she be close enough?" "She should be," the doctor said, "run and fetch her. There is a shuttle on standby in Bay 5." I was already running down the corridor. About 4 hours later I was back with Lissette. They took various samples of tissue, blood, etc. and then told us to wait. 14 hours more crawled by without a word from the Doctors. Lissie cried almost the whole time, before she finally succumbed to sleep. I must not have been far behind her. "Mr. Anderson," I heard the Doctor's voice, as though in a dream, "Mr. Anderson?" I struggled to come awake. "Mr. Anderson, wake up. We have news." "What is it?" I was groggy, at first not sure why I was there. Then, as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, it came back to me. The accident. Lorraine. "What!" I demanded, "Is she alright?" "She's fine now, Mr. Anderson. She's resting; we have her sedated for now. Would you like to see her?" Tears welled up in my eyes, casting the world as beneath the sea, and I answered, chokingly, "Y-yes. Please." The doctor led me to a hospital room down the hall. As we walked, he talked to me. "Now, remember, we used your daughter's DNA for the body, but the brain is your wife's and that is who she is. At a certain stage in the procedure we can try to influence the facial features, and using some old photos of your wife we tried to make her look as much like Lorraine as we could, however she still bears a striking resemblance to your daughter. Actually, they already looked much alike." "I know," I said, simply. "Also, to minimize the effect of the premature aging clones experience, we have made her somewhat younger than she was. Actually, much younger, in her teens. This way she should not have problems with arthritis, etc. for some time yet. She will feel young for a while, a few years, but in time her true age will catch up with her. Do you understand?" I merely nodded. "Also, this may not be easy for her to adjust to. I'm afraid you will have to help her. We do offer counseling, but of the most help would be if you didn't treat her any differently." We had stopped before the door to one of the rooms. "O.K. Can I see her now?" "Yes, she's in here, the sedative should be wearing off very soon." I went in to the room, and closed the door. There, lying on the bed, was the form of a young woman, sleeping peacefully. She wasn't hooked up to any machines or anything, and only a small readout above her bed gave any indication that her condition was being monitored. As I rounded the bed I saw that her hair was in her face, and after pulling a chair close, I reached out a fingertip and brushed it away. My breath caught in my throat. My God, I thought, she's the spitting image of herself as a teen, the girl I had first seen in school, belying her true age in her 40's. But wait, from a slightly different angle she was our lovely daughter, back at the age when she stubbornly clung to me though it was beginning to be embarrassing. But most of all she was alive, and breathing, and healthy. Thank God! The doctors had done a miraculous job. I continued to brush the long hair aside, noticing for the first time that they had even bothered to have someone cut it in a style popular for girls the age she appeared to be at the time. Tears streamed down across my cheeks, and I couldn't help but laugh a little as I realized that she would hate it. My wife wore her hair short and simple, she was always a no-nonsense lady. But to me, at that moment, she was the most beautiful woman, the most beautiful anything, I had ever seen. Disaster on Station 12 Ch. 2 The company had been good enough to arrange a place for us to stay, since our home had been destroyed along with the rest of Station 12. The doctors thought it would be too traumatic for her if she had to go live in another space condo, so they found us a place on Earth where we could take Lorraine. Of course, Earth real estate is very expensive, and the entire planet now is basically one large tourist attraction. So it was only fitting that they gave us both an unlimited leave of absence and put us up in a nice Caribbean resort. At the hospital, it took some explaining to help my wife, unfamiliar with her new body, to even begin to come to terms with the transformation she had made. But in only a few days she was responsive and cheerful, though she kept noting aloud how "surreal" everything seemed. For my part, it was almost a full day before I even noticed that she was shorter than she had been, and how that must make the world seem slightly oversized to her. There were some adjustments to be made but, finally, after determining that there was no longer anything medically wrong with her our daughter Lissette and I took Lorraine to our new home. The company was clearly trying to avoid a lawsuit, that much was obvious. Everything was taken care of, and the place was really first class. I was surprised to discover that we were living amongst the vacationing rich and famous. For a guy who was used to pulling overtime, all the sun, service, and sightings, when added to the fact that I felt constantly nervous now around Lorraine, made the experience surreal for me as well. Imagine how it must have been for my wife. By the second day there, things started to get a little better. I really have Lissette to thank for that. She broke the tension by noting that she and Lorraine were now the same size, and could share clothes. They spent the rest of the morning laughing and trying them on. For me, it was amazing hearing my wife laughing like a young girl again, so much like I remembered, but now infused with a more knowing, worldly quality. I was amazed by the sound. We had a nice lunch, and that afternoon I went to meet with our lawyer… because nice hotel or not, the company was going to get it's ass sued off. I came back from the meeting tense and on edge. While the company execs had been busy making a show of kissing our asses, the company lawyers were already quietly taking steps to cut their losses. As the sole "survivor", if you could even call her that, of the Station 12 disaster my wife had their lawyer's full attention. My lawyers were sharp though, and smelling money I am sure, had already gotten themselves a private detective. The detective had found what they were up to, and it wasn't good. They were going to try to stick us with the medical bills, everything. I guess I wasn't prepared for the fact that, body of a young girl or not, Lorraine knew me well, and she instantly picked up on my mood. The night was difficult as a result. Plus, I had felt odd, like some kind of pervert sleeping beside her the night before. Not knowing what to do, I let myself fall asleep on the couch in front of the TV. The next day it was like someone dropped a bomb on poor Lorraine, and unfortunately I knew it was me. She was a mess, crying, and wouldn't speak to me. Once again, it was Lissette to the rescue. "We in Jamaica, Mom," Lissette said, pronouncing mom more like "maam". "We should go to the beach!" My wife complained she didn't have a suit but Lissette said it was OK, they could go shopping. Lorraine seemed to like that idea, and off the two of them went, giving me the chance to relax. The stress, or the bamboo couch, must've gotten to me, I'm not sure which, but when I laid down for a quick second on the bed I fell immediately asleep. The morning slipped away, and next thing I knew my watch was buzzing my arm. "Yes," I said groggily, tapping the audio answer only button since I was sure I looked like hell, "what?" "We are at the beach, Daddy," my daughter said, "you should definitely get down here. Buy a suit in the lobby shop and meet us down here, ok?" "Ok," I said, and dropped the connection. I was on my way to the spot on the beach they had described when I stopped cold. There, a few meters ahead of me, was my daughter talking to some boys her age – topless! My jaw dropped so far I found out what the sand in Jamaica tastes like. I had never seen Lissette's bare tits before, having made a point of respecting her modesty. But there they were, high riding, firm, and perfect. They were topped off with little pink nips that reminded me of the color of bubble gum. Somehow seeing her topless made me check the rest of her out too, and man, she was gorgeous. What a body! Luckily for me I got my tongue back in my mouth before anyone noticed me, and walked up smiling as though nothing was wrong. When the guys noticed me coming they all changed their posture a little, something I remember doing around Lorraine's father years before. That tipped Lissette off, and she turned her head and saw me. She broke into a grin, and then into a run, and for a half second I got to see how those bare tits look when they bounce. Then, she was in my arms. "Daddy!" she squealed, "isn't it just beautiful out here? I love it!" "It's great," I told her, trying not to let her see that I was panicking because I felt my cock responding slightly to her presence in my arms. Jesus Christ, I thought. What the fuck is wrong with me? I can't sleep, JUST sleep, with my own wife because she has a body like this all of a sudden, and yet here I am nearly creaming my jeans because I saw my daughter practically naked. I tried to shake it off, and gestured at the young men ogling my daughter's tits. "Who are these guys?" "Just some guys," she shrugged, pausing to tell them she had to go before she pulled me off in the other direction. "Now, Dad," she said, suddenly turning serious, "Mom's at the bar waiting for us. You should see her, she looks fabulous, in fact I'm so jealous of her new body." I found that hard to believe. "Wait," she said then, as if reading my thoughts, "you'll see!" I had already seen WAY more than I expected, and I told my daughter so, admonishing her for being so shameless in front of me. "Oh," she said with another shrug, "when in Rome, do as the Roman's do. When in Jamaica, do as the other tourists do, right? Besides, this is really cool, I've never felt so free… plus there's all these guys around, and they DO look, but it's normal so they don't stare. It's really fun!" "If you say so. But I am your Father, you know. I'm not really supposed to see you that way." That sounded wrong, too harsh. I didn't want her to feel ashamed of her body or that I was, I just didn't want her to guess how hot she'd made me. So I softened it a little with some humor. "Besides, I'm old. The least you could have done was warn me – I could have had a heart attack!" "Oh, Daddy," she said theatrically, playfully bumping me with her hip. But I noticed she smiled, and then I noticed the way her tits jiggled when she bumped into me. It was hypnotic. Suddenly she took a few quick steps ahead of me and turned to face me, putting her small hand on my chest to stop me. "I get it Dad, it's cool. I mean, I guess I shoulda thought of how you would feel about seeing me like this, but to be honest I was so excited to have the chance to walk around like this in public that it just never occurred to me. Actually, I'm surprised… I don't feel awkward or funny at all, not even with you seeing me… and I guess that this thong bottom is small enough that I may as well be nude… I hope you aren't too shocked." Then she seemed thoughtful for a second, and finished by saying, "but since you have seen me, like this, I… no, it's stupid." "What, honey," I asked, my fatherly instincts to answer her questions kicking in. "Well, I guess, I'm curious to know… what you think. Of my body I mean, since you've seen it and all." Now she was blushing. "Umm, err," damn, I thought, is the sun always this hot in Jamaica, although my sudden sweating wasn't really because of the sun. "Well, yeah. It's nice." "JESUS, Dad!" She laughed, shaking her head, "you've got a way with women. Tell you what, next time a naked, or close to naked woman asks you how she looks, tell her she looks hot for crying out loud." Did you ever say exactly what you were thinking, when it was a way, WAY out of line thing to say, but you just couldn't help it? Like it just popped out? And then, once you got started it seemed like some kind of blessed release, right? Like someone let the pressure off, and now you just can't stop. I have, and here's what I said, "OK, dammit, to be honest, if you weren't my daughter, and if I were 20 years younger… ah the hell with that, I don't care if I am too old for you! If you weren't my daughter, looking like, like… THAT… Jesus Christ! I'd spend all afternoon, and all night buying you drinks, telling you jokes, and trying to turn you on so I could take you to that hotel room and fuck you harder than ever in your young life… all night, until I saw what the first light of morning looked like shining off your sweaty, heaving breasts." We stood silent, both of us shocked at my words. I think I was even more shocked than she was, but it was a close call. I watched her skin flush, her eyes glaze over, her nipples harden, her legs move a little closer, being an old pick-up artist (before I was married, anyhow) I just couldn't help it. I had trained myself to notice these little hints women give off long, long ago. And suddenly I realized that my own daughter wanted me. Somewhere in the back of my mind I thought about the time when I was a teen, when my older sister had taught me how to kiss, and how to seize that opportunity. I hadn't felt weird about kissing her because she was related at all, only very excited to have the chance. The memory seemed very real. Too real. I was kissing Lissette! Her breasts were bare and pressing to my chest, her nipples like little needles pushed right into the nerve. Unconsciously, my hands had made their way to her ass, and as I squeezed she seemed to delight in it. Slowly, I took a hand up to touch her breast, which was amazing. My God, what a wonderful sensation, what a - what a terrible revelation! I gasped and pushed her away, saying something like "we can't" or "I can't", I don't remember. Her head dropped to rest against my chest, as we both stood gasping for breath. She said something like, "I know" or "I know, Daddy". I whispered to her that it was ok, that I was sorry. She said it wasn't my fault. She seemed desperate to change the subject, so she took me by the hand and pulled me up the ramp. Off we went to see my wife. Disaster on Station 12 Ch. 3 At the top of the ramp was the resort beach bar, actually one of many. And there, sitting at the bar was my wife, topless as well, and looking a few years younger than even when we first met. The whole thing was surreal, and I noticed at once the way all the other patrons looked with confusion at this apparently too young to drink girl downing shots of Tequila. Apparently, the bar staff knew she was old enough, but no one else did. The problem was, any tolerance to alcohol is physical, not mental. So the drinks my wife was used to for a casual social buzz in her old body now had her blasted. As Lissette and I approached her, she swiveled her wicker bar stool in our direction and slurred in an odd drunken teen voice, "well, if it isn't Mr. Cold Ass and my sweet daughter… So what brings you out of hibernation Mr. Cold Ass?" "I… wanted to join you two for drinks," I said , mildly stunned. My God, she was hammered! I felt wildly embarrassed, and wondered how many of these people would think I was an old lecher, or a poor Father, or both. And yet, I had to admit that her body did look fantastic, in a forbidden sort of a way. Her breasts were magnificent, and almost just like they were when I first met her, and yet also they reminded me too much of my own daughter in those years… and I didn't feel right about seeing her this way, even if it was just a clone. Also, I just couldn't get over the taboo. Even if this girl was mentally in her 30's, she was physically in her teens, and although inside that svelte, lean, teen body was the mind of my wife and lover for my entire adult life, the mother of our children, I just couldn't imagine actually touching her intimately without feeling tremendous guilt. Oddly, it overpowered any feelings of guilt I had over the still recent event with my own daughter on the ramp because, hell, at least she was legal. But then again, due to the special circumstances, so was my teen bodied wife. I didn't want my always loving Marriage to end, and I fought the opposing impressions in my mind that on the one hand it wasn't, that my wife was alive and right here before me, and on the other that it was, and that my wife was gone forever and this child was a stranger. Once again, I could never have made it without Lissette. "Mom," Lissette said with emphasis, both reminding me who this girl really was and getting the drunk teen/woman's attention, thereby taking it off picking an argument with me, "can you please order me a drink?" Distracted by the mundane task, my wife's mind switched gears and she ordered. The bartender came over in a few minutes with a cocktail that came with an umbrella and a lot of fruit for Lissette, another shot for Lorraine, and surprisingly a Brandy Old Fashioned on the rocks, my favorite drink. Once again I was reminded that this was my wife, and that she knew me very well. With a sad look on her face she handed it to me, saying simply, "here you go, Bill." I took the drink, and downed it fast in silence. My reverie was broken a second later when Lissette first sampled her drink. "Mom," she laughed breezily, "this is a kids drink! Is there even any booze in here?" "Oops," the older/younger woman/girl slurred, "I forgot. You're old enough now, aren't you… Well, can you blame me… after all, I am your doting Mother… Just order a shot of vodka, that'll jazz it up." Hearing such knowing words from such a youthful seeming girl seemed odd, but I shook it off. So, Lissette ordered herself a shot of Vodka and poured it into the fruity cocktail, then excused herself to wander back down to the beach. I watched her gorgeous body recede as she neared the water, and I must admit my eyes lingered on her supple ass as it wiggled about, her smooth back and her long sexy legs. As I fondled her with my eyes, watching her swaying hips and her absent minded sipping at her cocktail, I suddenly felt I had to tear my eyes away, so I turned my attention back to my wife. Lorraine was moping into her drink, and was really too drunk to notice me looking her over, which I found I couldn't help. Maybe if I could just see her differently than I had been, I could do the deed which I knew would save our marriage. And as I allowed my eyes to graze across her body, over the stiff pink nipples that defied perfection, to the gentle slope of her pubescent breasts, to the smooth flat belly, to the triangle V at the junction of her slender, velvet smooth looking young thighs which, crossed as they were conspired with the small swath of fabric which covered her most private part to hide her tender pussy lips from my sight, I had to admit to myself that she was indeed the sexiest goddamn thing I had ever, ever seen. Suddenly, I wanted her. I could feel myself giving in to the temptation of the wonderfully taboo opportunity this all presented to me. I could fuck this girl no matter how young she looked, felt, or physically was, because mentally and legally she was a mid 30's woman, and more than that, she was my Wife. Hell, I had a license to fuck her! And she wanted me, and loved me. Once they understood the situation, no one would blame me or think me a pervert. Plus, all the stimulation I had been getting between my wife and my daughter, I would almost have been ready to fuck a transvestite Rastafarian by that point. With one glance to the surf to see that my daughter was happily frolicking in the waves, I made my mind up and scooped my drunk little teenie Wife into my arms, kissed her, and carried her off to our hotel room. Only ten minutes later, I emerged from the room wild eyed and teary. I couldn't do it, I realized. Even though minutes before I had been totally turned on by the prospect, I just couldn't do it! Laying there on the plush hotel bed, stripped of her one small garment, laying there wantonly ready for it, she had looked (yes you guessed it) just too damn young. And as much as it was a turn on, my mind asserted itself and said loudly, THIS IS WRONG! A moment later, I found myself in my robe, on the path outside our hotel room door, leaning against the building for support, and sobbing like a lost child. Just then is when my daughter came up to me, a look of concern in her eyes. "Dad," she called out, "there you are. I was getting worried. A man at the bar said you scooped Mom up and practically ran out of the bar. They almost had the cops after you, but the Bartender explained, which is a good thing since I don't speak Jamaican." "They almost sent police after me? You see, that's the problem," I whined, "no matter where we go, everyone will always see her as a little girl, and me as some over the hill pervert! Including me!" "Dad," my daughter said firmly, "this has got to stop! I know this thing has you confused, and if your behavior before we went to the bar is any indication a young girl like Mom or Me can really turn you on. So what's the problem?" "I just told you the problem," I said plaintively, "I feel like a pervert if I even look at her like I am used to looking at my wife… as my sex partner. It's not as much what other people think that is bothering me, it's what I think, and can't seem to stop thinking." "Damn it, Daddy," my little girl said with a determined look on her pretty face, "I know this is weird, but you've got to get over it. That's my Mom in there, probably crying her eyes out now because her own husband is afraid to touch her! Look, normally I wouldn't condone this, but you, sir, need to get over your fear of fucking a young girl! And," she said softly, with a strange look suddenly crossing her face, "I think I know how to help you…" Suddenly she was kissing me, hard, crushing her lips to mine and her pert breasts to my terry covered chest. I couldn't resist, once again feeling my mind fog as it had on the ramp, before the bar. Once more I felt my hands fill with the soft, forbidden warmth of my daughter's full breasts. Once more I felt her nipples tighten, betraying her own desire. And though before today I never would have even seriously considered it, I knew that I was going to fuck her. My robe parted, the sash loosened by my daughter's shaking hands, and suddenly her practically nude body was pressed to mine, her fingers finding the girth of my manhood and wrapping gently, but insistently, about it's shaft. She didn't really stroke, but instead just held it, and the feeling of her soft belly against the bulbous head of it, and her soft, strong little fingers wrapped about it was mind shatteringly magnificent. I cast a nervous glance up and down the pathway, as my daughter buried her face against my hairy chest, hiding behind her blond veil and giggling as she gave my cock an urgent little squeeze. "My room," she said breathlessly, and I nodded, reaching for the knob of the room that adjoined the one shared by my wife and I, and pulling my daughter in with me a moment later. This time I felt no hesitation, and untying a string at her hip I soon had my daughter naked. I backed her legs up to the foot of the bed, and when she toppled I fell along with her, right on top. Somehow, even as we tumbled together, she managed to get my robe of my shoulders. From there it was an easy matter to shrug it off and let it fall to the floor beside the bed. I was fully rampant, and by the way my college cutie daughter gasped as I pressed my middle against hers, she knew it. For a moment, I sawed against her, the shaft of my cock riding deliciously up her slick, soft cleft, and brushing her clit in a way that clearly drove her wild, and then without really thinking about it I drew back a little farther, and on the return stroke my cock surged powerfully into her – into the clenching, soaked pussy of my own daughter! Lissette drew in another sharp breath as I bottomed out inside her, her impossibly tight pussy drawing even tighter about me as she flexed intimate muscles whose strength I, as her Father, should never have felt. But incredibly, that one of a thousand realizations of how utterly taboo what we were doing was, along with all the others that were crashing in on me like great thundering waves every moment of our coupling, only served to send the level of my passions soaring as though on rocket engines to incredible new heights I had never felt before. And from the way my gorgeous daughter shivered and shook with each small movement of our bodies against, around, and within each other, I knew she was having the same type of experience. After the first clutching moments of holding each other as close as a man and woman are able, we began to move, almost to dance, for there was rhythm and intimacy, teasing and pleasing, almost as if choreographed, as though our physical connection allowed us to read each other's minds. When some purely animal part of me wanted to move deeper into her, she pressed firmly to me as I pushed deeper into her, and when I needed to feel her burning soft breasts mash hard into me, they did. Likewise, when she needed to feel my tongue slide over hers I somehow knew it, and we locked lips and kissed madly. And when she needed to feel me jab within her somewhere new, from another angle or to another depth, I sensed it and complied without even thinking. Passionately, we each cried out as loudly and as much as the spirit moved us to, which was loud and often. Neither of us had any mind left, it seemed, to pay to the fact that my Wife, who was her Mother, lay in the very next room. We were wrapped up in the moment. Moving as one, we changed positions, and now my daughter was on top of me, while I lay flat on the bed where she had just been. I felt how the sheets were hot and knew it was from her body. Above me, she glistened with sweat, her eyes closed, her mouth slightly open. She was breathing hard and moaning, and her body bounced with an incredible energy I had almost forgotten about… the energy of a young, lust engrossed woman. Grunting, I tightened my grip on her hips and began to trust up into her, hard. With each thrust she yelped and I watched entranced as her full, high riding and firm young breasts bounced wildly, droplets of her sweat raining down on me from her rock hard pointy nipples. Neither of us spoke until I decided to initiate another new position, and fluidly swung her to her side, and then up onto her knees as I came to my feet and crouched behind her, fucking her hard in the doggy position, watching my stiff cock glide in and out of her. Her pussy was puckered around me and I savored the way her lips were stretched taut and clinging to me. I was amazed at the copious wetness I was covered in as I emerged from within her on each outward stroke. Then all of a sudden she groaned, and through clenched teeth, in a tone I had never heard from her, said the words that drove me into even more of a frenzy. "Ohhhhh…. God Yes! Fuck me Daddy!" Suddenly I was a wild beast. I fucked her harder than I have ever fucked a woman before, harder than I thought any woman could take. I think I said something about my little girl, but there's no way I could ever tell you exactly what. All I know is that I gripped her about the waist so hard I felt she must bruise, and thrust at her with all the force I could muster. Instantly, she started to orgasm. As hard as I was giving it to her, she through herself back at me even harder. The wet slapping of my belly against her ass as I buried stroke after stroke into her sounded like machine gun fire. Her pussy was spasming on my cock like I had never felt a woman do before, and she flopped about, reminding me of a freshly hooked fish, full of fight. She was held in place for my relentless fucking assault on her cunt only by my iron hard grasp on her. She tossed her head wildly, sending her hair flying chaotically and screamed like a banshee. Her orgasm just wouldn't stop, seemingly determined to trigger mine, and I knew that in a moment it would happen. Grunting, I buried myself in her with one last thrust that was so hard that when my balls collided against her I felt like I'd been sissy kicked, but the slight pain did nothing to diminish the mind melting pleasure of blowing the biggest load of my life into my daughters pussy, the tightest, wettest, hottest, and certainly wildest pussy I had ever been into. The force of that last thrust knocked her off her knees and me off my feet, and gravity put me in her even a little deeper than I would have been able to get on my own. Shuddering, I lay on her, feeling her body heave as she drew labored breath after labored breath beneath me. I knew my own breath was coming as hard, and in my eardrums I felt both our hearts pounding wildly. In a few minutes I rolled off her, used to my Wife's need to go directly to the bathroom right after sex, but my daughter only rolled half on top of me, and began to kiss my chest, it's hairs matted in a mixture of our sweat. My hands glided down her smooth back and over the soft flank of her, lubricated by the glistening sheen which covered her and made her flesh seem to sparkle. I found I was completely, totally satisfied in a way I hadn't been after sex in a very, very long time. And I was surprised to find that I felt even closer to my daughter than before we broke this time honored taboo. I never would have thought I could love her more than I had from the moment she'd been born, but amazingly I knew that now I did. As the ramifications of what we had just done began to sink in on me, I was even more astounded to realize that I didn't care. It was just too good, and it wouldn't have bothered me no matter what the stigma or the consequences. I was totally hooked on young pussy now, and I knew my daughter and my newly remade wife would provide me with a steady supply. I was at a loss for words, but I find that my daughter wasn't. "I was only going to let you have me one time, to help you get over your hang-up so you would want Mom again" she said in a dreamy voice, "but now… any time you want me, understand Daddy?" "I understand sweetheart," I replied, and then meant more strongly than ever before, "I love you." "God," she said, "I love you too, Daddy." To be continued... Disaster on Station 12 Ch. 4 I returned to my own room a few hours after my tryst with my Daughter Lissette, after having a shower in her room and spending some time being close, she had insisted I go back to my Wife, her Mother. She had also made me promise to fuck my Wife like I had just fucked her, and promised me in return that as long as I was taking care of her Mom's needs, my Daughter would always be willing to take care of mine. The whole thing gave me a sunny new outlook on life. When I got back into my own room, Lorraine was asleep in nearly the same position I had left her, her nubile teen body spread out naked, her hair wild. She was snoring loudly, drunk and totally out. I found as I looked her over that she was sexy as hell. I knew now that I'd be OK. In fact, if she hadn't been passed out so drunk I knew she'd be hung over like hell the next morning, I'd have jumped her right there. I found my mouth watering over her gorgeous new body, and thanks to my Daughter's tender ministrations, I was completely over my feelings of perversion just for wanting to have sex with my own wife. Instead of being put off by her apparent youth, I was now very turned on by it. Quickly I had a hard on again, thinking of how my Daughter and I had just fucked, and looking at my Wife, seemingly even younger than my Daughter, though I knew it was not true, I was rock hard. I tried to roust my Wife, deciding that a drunken fuck may be just what she needed, and it was definitely what I needed. But no such luck, she slept right through. I decided to go ahead and enjoy her a little anyhow, though, since my Wife had always permitted me to have fun with her previous body whenever I liked, even when she was asleep. I started to suck on her little tits and play with her pussy. I wondered idly as I rubbed her clit with a finger I moistened in my mouth if she had shaved her pussy to look even younger, or if it was just for the tiny "brazilian" style bikini bottom suits she and my Daughter, and the rest of the women who could pull it off were wearing around here in Jamaica. I decided my Daughter must have cajoled her into doing it when they went suit shopping, as my Wife was already concerned about looking to young for me. Well, she never need worry about that again, and I loved her smooth shaven pussy. Then as I was playing with the little pussy of my resurrected Wife I suddenly realized that she had never shaved her pussy before, although my Daughter had admitted she did it regularly. My mind was instantly filled with a vision of my Wife and Daughter, both naked, comparing shaven slits. And then another vision, this time of my daughter carefully shaving her Mother's pussy. This sent me to the edge. I slipped a finger into my passed out Wife's perfect teen pussy and felt that she was indeed very wet, and very, very tight. It made me remember when she had first had a body like this, when I had met her and deflowered her. God she had been tight! Then I also found myself thinking that although it was my Wife's brain in there, this was genetically my daughter's teenage body as the doctor had used Lissette's DNA. Here before me was the chance to fuck my own teenage daughter's body, the same girl whose more mature form I had just enjoyed, as it had been when she'd been sitting on my knee teasing her Dad slightly to get the little dresses and things she had wanted. Now I HAD to fuck her. I moved up between her still widely spread legs and put my cock to her opening, moving it back and forth across my Wife/Daughter's pussy lips, causing her to squirm in her sleep. Then I realized this was a cherry pussy – that there was bound to be a hymen in there to break! My God, I thought, this just gets better and better! What an absolute fool I've been avoiding fucking this hot piece of ass the last few Days when it had been mine for the taking. I thought then, briefly, about holding off til tomorrow. My wife might want to re-experience losing her cherry. But then I thought about how she'd been hurt the first time, and decided that now when she was out of it was the perfect time to do it. Plus, I'd get to engage in the 'fucking my teenage daughter's pussy' fantasy a little more than I would otherwise. Slowly I slipped my cock between the fat, pouty lips of her oh so small and tight little teenaged thirty-something pussy. As I had done to our daughter earlier I dragged my cock back and forth, causing my wife in my teenage daughter's body to shiver, even through her drunkenness. Then I socketed myself into the opening of her, and felt the tight mouth of that virgin teen-like pussy sucking me in. Oh, my God, no words exist to describe the feeling. I had Hiroshima in my head and molten hot lead in my balls! Slowly, I slid in until I felt resistance. This was it! I knew in that moment that I was in the middle of the most intense, perfect moment of my life, and that no other man who had ever lived had ever been so lucky as I was at that moment. For, all in one stroke I was about to take the virginity of the woman I loved for the second time in my life, a feat never before achieved. And yet at the same time I was in a way about to spear myself through the cherry of my own sweet innocent daughter as she had been at that tender age when a girl can get her Daddy to do anything with the little teases they do. The age all men who have daughters secretly fantasize about fucking them at for the first time, and which they never, ever forget. And although just this night I had already fucked my actual daughter in her magnificent college coed body, now I would get the amazing pleasure of fucking her as she'd been – and yet, it would be my wife. My mind was a lava lamp over a 200 watt bulb – bubbling and boiling, a whirling mass of colors and shapes, all ready to explode! And as I was thinking all this, I drew back languorously and SLAM! I did it! I felt my teeny Wife's daughter clone pussy envelope me completely for the first time (again) as my cock threw open her maidenhead as if it were a gunfighter barging his way into the saloon. "Oh God damn," I moaned, "Lorraine, yes fuck Daddy baby!" It was my wife's name on my lips, and her soul I felt that old familiar connection to, but it was the long lost teen form of my gorgeous daughter on my mind, and on my cock. To me, my Wife was who I was in, my Daughter's teen body was what I was in. Hunching my back I took the pert nipple of one perky, perfect, smallish breast into my mouth, sucking deep and hard as my tongue played over the rock hard point. I felt the soft mound pressed harder into my mouth and realized my Wife's mind was deeply enjoying what I was doing to her daughter's teen body. I gripped her soft, slim hips, so different from either the large womanly hips I was used to, and even different from the womanly but firm and perfect hips I'd enjoyed on my college coed cutie daughter's body hours before, but oh so sweetly reminiscent both of the hips I'd known when my wife was a teen all those long years ago, and of the hips I'd been teased by only a few years ago (by comparison) by my daughter as a high school girl. Grunting, I used the hold to drive myself rapidly in and out of the tightest, wettest, most perfect pussy I'd ever known. Gradually, I began to hope my Wife would wake up as I fucked her. I wanted her to know I still loved her and how much she really turned me on now. I even wanted her to know, in a way, that she reminded me of Lissette and that really made me hot. But she slept right through and after, with that kind of stimulation, it wasn't long before I was exploding my white hot sperm into the virgin depths of my wife's brand new teen pussy – into the clutching vise of the identical copy of my teen daughter's own little cunt. Afterward, I collapsed to the side wondering if I was having a heart attack, or if I was just suddenly alive again for the first time. I fell asleep thanking God for cloning, for having my Wife back, and for my amazing daughter, Lissette. I awoke the next morning and Lorraine was in the shower, happily humming to herself as she washed. But what woke me was the buzzing of my watch on the bedside table. Tapping audio only I answered. "Mmm... Hello?" "Mr. Andersen?" It was our lead attorney. "Yes, Tom," I replied, rolling over and trying to come alive, "Good morning." Then I listened a while as he layed it all out for me. The Company had actually filed a lawsuit against us! I was shocked at the arrogance and gall of it, and yet in a way I wasn't surprised. The lawsuit sought recompense for the expenses they incurred in the rescue process, and for the cleanup and damage to Station 12. Ludicrously, they actually alleged that it was somehow my Wife's diamond ring, like dozens or even hundreds I suspect were aboard that city in space, which had in some way caused the accident. That instead of merely being the one hard substance the microscopic meteorite had run into that could stop it, the stone had somehow "drawn" the grain of salt sized projectile to the Station. The suit actually suggested that all those deaths were somehow Lorraine's fault! Then, just as I was getting really, really mad Tom said there was good news. The private detective his firm had hired had found something out, something particularly embarrassing to the company about the accident. "We can't sit on this, Jack," Tom said with some urgency, "any hesitation to go public could be seen by a jury as though some kind of back room bartering were going on, as if we were blackmailing them. If you want to win in the end, we have to go public." "Well," I said, consideringly, "first tell me more about what he found out... Something about a field failure?" "Not just that," Tom said, almost excitedly, although my lawyer never got excited, "it was a maintenance problem – and they knew about it." "They knew about it?" "Yes. What it was was some sort of particle spread problem. The station's protective shields were up, and they protected most of the ship, but they had very small little gaps in them. The particles in the energy field were bunching up because the field's strength was lower than it should have been. The capacitors were going out, and the company didn't want to fix them yet." Silently I cursed my Boss, now dead like all my friends and coworkers who'd lived on the Station. He'd caused all of this, all the deaths, even his own, with his stupid bureaucratic careerism. His goddamn all important budget. Yes, I could just see him ordering the maintenance crews to "tweak" the capacitors to get "just a little more out of them". The dumb son of a bitch! "So now what," I asked. "Now we go to the media – not us, of course. We'll slip a little something to one of the maintenance guys (they were working at the plant like you when the accident happened) to 'blow the whistle'. It'll look like he came forward thanks to a nagging conscience. Our PI has handled this sort of thing for us before... and don't worry, our fee will cover it." Then he paused with a lawyer's trained experience about a client's disdain toward their fees, and added, to give some perspective, "Jack, smile. You and Lorraine are going to be rich!" I thanked Tom and gave him the go ahead, and then hung up just as my wife came out of the bathroom, her perfect nude body on display, with her hair damp and wild. She jumped on the bed and wrapped her arms and legs around me giving me a big kiss. "I love you, stud," she said with a wink as my hands enjoyed her perfect, athletic teen rump, "thanks for last night." "You remember that," I asked, a little surprised. "Not really, but I was sore this morning and messy, so I knew," she replied, drying her hair with a towel. "Funny, I feel like I got my cherry popped again... it's really kinda sore down there. They didn't make me a virgin, did they?" "Actually, they did," I replied with a Cheshire grin. "Dog!" She exclaimed, shouldering me playfully, "I bet you loved that!" "Yep." I replied smugly, and noticed she beamed knowing I once again was attracted to her. "Well, thank God I was drunk," she said, confirming my suspicion from the night before, "feeling that goddamn thing get broke once was more than enough, believe me. Though I do wish I could remember fucking you in my new body... was it nice?" "Nice, hell," I said with a genuine snort, "it was incredible. I'm the luckiest man alive." "Mmm..." she pouted, "now I really wish I could remember it!" "Who needs to remember?" I asked her, pulling her onto my lap and letting her feel the massive boner I had beneath the covers, drawing a gasp in a surprisingly girlish voice. Giggling, she rolled me over on top of her, the covers slipping away, and threw her legs around me as we locked into the kiss of longtime lovers. I slipped into her perfect pussy for the second/millionth time, and it was like coming home. Like coming back to a place you'd been away from too long. We both wept a little as me made slow, passionate love. Afterward I told her about my call from Tom, and she suggested we have drinks to celebrate. Once again she put on that incredibly small triangle of fabric that constituted all the clothes a good looking woman is expected to wear around there, and after she did a little with her hair we went out, hand in hand, and I found I didn't give a damn what anybody thought, no matter how many shocked stares we received. God, life is good. Disaster on Station 12 Ch. 5 A few days later it was all over the news... Negligence In Station 12 Disaster, Says Whistleblower Peuters Force fields designed to protect the outer hull of the space station from even microscopic impacts, such as the one that destroyed it, were in serious disrepair, according to a witness who testified in federal court today. A former maintenance mechanic on the doomed space station, the witness told a story of budget hoarding and a pattern of shoddy maintenance on the orders of station administrators, including the Station Superintendent, who was killed in the accident. 417 people in all were killed; there was only one survivor in the incident. The allegations made by the whistleblower caused a stir because only two days prior Space Components, Inc., which owned the space manufacturing, office, and community facility filed suit against Lorraine Anderson, the sole survivor of the accident thanks to a groundbreaking brain transplant into a cloned body, claiming that her diamond ring had attracted the miniature asteroid which ultimately became embedded in it. SCI attorneys alleged, in documents filed previously, that forensic examination of the stone showed that the microscopic fragment which pierced the station's hull, causing it to collapse under pressure, had become embedded in the very center of the diamond. According to the documents, forensic investigators hired by SCI to investigate the incident were confident that this was impossible unless at the moment of the impact the ring were somehow attracting the miniature meteorite. No theory on just what force was in action was offered. Diamonds have never been shown to be attractive to meteorites, according to geologist David Sanborne, in response to Peuters inquiries. SCI attorneys did not return calls placed by Peuters reporters today. SCI's CEO was, according to his secretary, "looking into the matter". Thomas Jorgenson, an attorney representing the Anderson family, offered this statement by phone from his office. "Space Components is trying to shift the blame from a corporate system that encouraged cutting corners and which looked the other way on safety infractions if a financial incentive was involved, to put the blame on the one person who managed to survive this tragic event, and just barely. Their allegation that Mrs. Anderson's ordinary, unremarkable engagement ring could have somehow attracted the meteorite is absurd. It's also beside the point. Even if, by some strange unknown force (and I am in no way suggesting this is possible) a substance onboard the station had attracted the meteorite, that still does not explain how the meteorite got past the station force fields. Their argument isn't logical." The story went on a bit, but I didn't read any further. Clenching my eyes shut tightly, rubbing them wearily, I tried not to see all 417 faces of those former neighbors, coworkers, and friends of mine who had been killed by a company trying to save money it really didn't even need. "What's the matter, Daddy," said my daughter Lissette, leaning into me from behind and wrapping her arms about my chest and resting her head on my shoulder, her soft, ripe breasts pressing naked into my back. I exhaled in exasperation... "Oh, I was just reading my e-news," I replied, putting down the screen sheet. "It looks like the company is going to lose out, and we've dodged the bullet again on this lawsuit they filed. But I just can't stop thinking about all the good people who died up there." There was a pensive silence for a few moments, before Lissette kissed me on the cheek and said, "maybe a swim will clear your mind?" Then she leaned into my ear and whispered "nothing like wrestling with a half naked, glistening, dripping wet college girl in the surf to brighten your mood..." And with that she dashed off across the beach toward the blue ocean, all svelte muscles, rippling, jiggling flesh, and grace. Giggling she turned on her heel once, her long blonde hair flying, and motioned to me with a waggling finger and a grin, before she turned again, and ran right into the ocean, water splashing around her in the bright Caribbean sun. So much for my Pina Colada in the shade, I thought, downing the drink in one pull, as I rose to my feet. Smiling like the cat about to get the canary, I took off my sunglasses, and my shirt, and ran in the ridiculous swim suit my wife had bought me to join my daughter in the rolling waves. My day was getting better already, and I felt young and alive! We just swam and goofed around, in case you are wondering, like the good old days in the pool before we left for life in Space. But unlike then, now my daughter was a grown woman, and a lush beautiful one at that, whose charms were no longer the mystery to me that they should have been, and which I could no longer ignore. In my memory, every moment of it is in slow motion, she a gleaming goddess in paradise, her every movement, her every quiver unconsciously seductive, and I recall only the sounds of the roaring surf, and her light, airy feminine laughter as we played like old friends, which just a little flirtation. As she rubbed against me over and over, her body slick like she'd been greased as we struggled and laughed with each other, I couldn't help responding to her as a man does. I knew she felt it, because as she brushed past it she would linger slightly, or press a little, or her eyes would lock mine for just an instant, but nothing was said. And it's a good thing, too, because just as the situation got to the point where it might lead to something, I felt the wind knocked out of me as a shoulder plowed into me from behind, and suddenly my head was underwater. I crested the surfaced sputtering and flailing, gasping for air, and for a moment I didn't notice the stereo chorus of hysterical female laughter. Pawing the hair out of my face, and wiping the water off my face as I tried to regain my composure, I blinkingly opened my eyes to see my wife and daughter nearly doubled over laughing, both of them looking like mermaids in the sea with their tanned, high riding, bare breasts defying gravity just above the water. "Lorraine," I exclaimed, "I can't believe you dunked me!" "I have all this energy now," she gushed, "It's incredible!" And at that both girls attacked me, and I found myself fighting a losing battle, outnumbered, and overpowered by a more youthful force. And although I held my own for a bit, gradually I wore myself out. As the physically oldest one there, I called a stop to things after a bit, and trudged wearily toward the shore, breathing heavily. Back at my little straw umbrella with the beach chair and the little table with a fresh Pina Colada on it, I collapsed into the chair and hung my head back over it's frame, breathing deeply. A moment later my daughter flopped down on a towel she'd spread out, and I realized with a start that even she was a bit pooped from the exertion. "It's like she's a kid all over again," my daughter huffed, shaking her head in mock disgust, before breaking into a grateful grin. I just smiled back at her, as we both enjoyed having her back, and our own gratitude that she wasn't gone from our lives after all, and that in spite of everything she was probably the most healthy of us all. It was a little while before Lorraine came bounding up the beach and joined us in the shade, looking at last (after a good deal of solo cavorting in the sea) at least almost as subdued as her daughter, at least physically her elder now, and I, were feeling. "Let's get something to eat," she said after a brief rest – a sentiment the whole family could handle. Dinner was delicious, mostly fresh seafood and island fruits, and served with a delicious, mature wine that left me feeling just a little tipsy. The girls wore beaded sarongs around their waists to embellish their bikini bottoms, some shell jewelry they had bought at the local tourist market the other day, and they did their hair carefully, twisting in some local flowers. For the young, beautiful women on the island, like themselves, this was all that really constituted "dinner wear", although if she had been dressing her real age instead of her apparent physical one, she'd have worn something more like a long skirt, and a loose fitting cotton blouse, like most of the matrons we saw at the restaurant. Instead, she went topless, like most of the budding beauties whose age group she seemed to be a part of, most of them blissfully unconcerned with the distraction their blossoming forms elicited. For her part, Lorraine seemed to revel in the freedom of it. Lissette, on the other hand, chose to wear a thin, disturbingly sheer blouse to match her black sarong. For my part, I felt over dressed in white cotton pants, rolled up above the ankles to avoid them dragging in the sand, Birkenstocks, and a billowy cotton shirt sewn with a deep v-neck, and no buttons. God, I remember thinking, I could really get used to this Island living. In the restaurant, everyone smiled at us and nodded as we passed. It was funny how the perceptions and misperceptions blended. Some had read the news and knew who we were, congratulating us on our luck, many showing curiosity about Lorraines cloned body, those who did taking more interest in Lissette when they learned she had been the source of the DNA used for her Mother's new form. Others were clueless, thinking us any variety of combinations. One old woman even complimented Lissette on her looks, saying "you have a remarkable figure for a woman with a teenage child," causing us all to crack up before we explained, to the poor old woman's shock, that it was actually Lorraine who was the Mother, and Lissette the daughter, not the other way round. In fact, everything in the day went off without a hitch, until Lissette had to use the ladies room, and excused herself to sashay across the room in its direction. I guess I was looking a little too hard. "You know," said my wife, looking at me with a bemused expression, "I felt that boner you had when I dunked you earlier..." Oh shit. "Yeah," I tried to brush it off, "so? You know you turn me on..." "I hadn't had time to turn you on, Jack," she said evenly, with a little glint in her eyes, "but our daughter had..." To be continued...