Skip. The scene was some sort of club. Dad was sitting with several women who appeared to be drunk. I saw nude dancers on a stage and realized it was a strip club.

Skip. Inside a long vehicle, Dad fucking a short brunette woman.

Skip. The same woman vomiting beside a building, Dad holding her hair.

Skip. I saw the other Tera crawl into my father's bed, naked, Dad doing the same. The two of us were cuddling together under the covers and I felt rather warm inside.

Skip. Skip. This time, there was someone I recognized. Kylie had been my sitter when I was younger. She looked a little older than I remembered, but very beautiful. Dad was sitting on a couch talking and drinking wine with Kylie. Two young girls bounded in.

Skip. Dad was in a room with bunk beds, holding a book. On each of the beds was one of the young girls. I started to feel a dreadful anticipation. This was one of the moments Dad was worried I'd see. Given that the girls were young, the oldest no more than seven or eight and the other clearly a couple of years younger, I could see why he didn't want me to see this one.

The younger girl, on the bottom bunk, was giggling as she swept her hand across my father's crotch. She did it again, and then a moment later, held her hand in place. I could see that Dad was very uncomfortable. But he didn't move away.

The older girl leaned down to look, curiousness on her face. The sense of dread I was feeling was becoming mixed with a very raw sort of arousal.

Kylie appeared and the moment clearly passed. I wasn't sure why Dad was so worried.

Skip. Dad and Kylie in a bed, mating in a rushed fashion. I wondered if Dad had gotten really worked up from the girls.

Skip. Skip. The girls in the bunk beds again. The same scene, I thought. This time, though, when the younger one pressed her hand against Dad's groin and the older girl looked down, my father unzipped his pants and showed them his penis. I felt myself becoming very aroused.

The girls took turns putting their tongues on the tip. Dad's face showed excitement. This, then, was what he was worried I'd see.

The older girl lay back on the bed, pulling up her nightshirt and pulling away her panties. Dad stared between the little girl's legs a moment, and so did I. Then he leaned down and ran his tongue along her immature little slit. The ethereal me shuddered with desire. I found myself wishing I, too, could taste the girl there. Dad began to masturbate while he ate the child's pussy.

Kylie rushed into the room, a blur of motion. Yelling, clearly, the girls yanked out of the room. Dad crumpled onto the lower bunk and hung his head.

Skip. Dad on the floor, several police officers pinning him down and slapping cuffs around his wrists.

- - -

I felt myself breathing heavily. Seeing dad forcefully arrested was not easy to take. I rolled over in bed and wrapped myself around him. He stirred lightly but didn't wake. I stared at his face a moment. I wondered what he was dreaming. Was it something erotic and sexual? Something horrifying and frightening? Did he dream of me? Did he dream of the treasures between that little girl's legs?

I couldn't help that the image of that girl's genitals kept bouncing in my head. Why did I feel so compelled to want to see, to want to touch it? Had this been what Dad had felt? Was this something, some other force, acting on us? Or, perhaps worse, were we just wired to want to experience such things? Dad had spoken about the temptation, that if he figured out the time loop and how to work it, he might be tempted to return to such opportunities and fuck little girls. I certainly wondered if I found such powers in me, powers I felt certain I had if only I knew their controls, would I be any less tempted?

Tightening my grip on Dad's body I snuggled with him, not wanting to wake him. I was horny, after such arousing images, but I didn't act on it right then.

Tera.

"Hmm?" I whispered.

Join me. Bring your father.

Theresa's tone sounded odd and not as smooth as usual. I breathed, "What is it? What's wrong?"

I'll explain when you get here.

I closed my eyes, settled for one second, then opened them again to find myself seated in a small rose garden chamber. Dad jerked awake and nearly fell from the bench beside me. "What...?"

"I don't know," I told him. "Theresa told us to join her."

We looked around but saw no sign of her.

"Theresa?" Dad called.

There was no response.

I tried to listen for anything moving, but in the sanctuary, sound didn't resonate quite the same. A nearly-silent sigh could sound like a roar, and the loudest shout not heard from inches away. I repeated the woman's name, but again, there was no one answering.

"Sure this is where she wanted us to come?" Dad asked. I'd clothed us in the second between lying in our bed and finding ourselves in the sanctuary, my father dressed in brown slacks and a soft, cotton t-shirt, me in the orange dress I'd conjured previously that I loved so much.

"I think so. I don't know exactly how I bring us to where she is. I just sort of... follow a signal or something."

Dad nodded, "Well... she's not here now."

"I'm a little scared..."

"Me too." Dad took my hand and stood up. "Maybe we should leave..."

A familiar male voice called from above and below at the same time. "Pity if you left so soon. We have things to discuss." I craned my head trying to find the source, but it was several seconds before Tristan appeared, lounging on a high-backed bench, wearing his original steampunk outfit. "Ah, there I am."

"Was it you who called to me?" I asked, more than a little off balance.

"It was."

"But it was Theresa's voice..."

He smiled. "I thought you might be more... receptive... if it was she who requested your presence. I'm quite good at morphing voices, as well."

"Don't do that to us," Dad growled, "no tricks. It's hard enough to trust anyone as it is..."

Tristan nodded, "Fair enough. You may depart, if you feel you were summoned under false pretenses."

"What do you want?" I cut in.

"I've found something. Something you need to see."

"So get on with it," Dad scowled, clearly not yet fully roused from his sleeping brain and a little moody.

Tristan twirled a small black chain around a finger, two dangling little golden semicircles flaring out as it spun. "Do you know what this is?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "No, of course you don't. This is the first one I've actually seen which wasn't attached to something trying to kill me... or worse."

"What is it?" I demanded.

"It's a Spirit-Binder. A trap, of sorts. It's used to capture the essence of a mortal. No," he said, waving away my forming question, "not an essence like that of a god. But the life force. The vitality. The... hmm... the thing that makes you tick."

"Like a soul?" Dad asked.

Tristan shook his head, "Another worthless term from the mundane realms. But if you need to think of it like that, so be it. It's a trap, as I said. And it was laid here for you just a short time ago."

"Here?" I exclaimed, frightened, "In the sanctuary?"

Tristan nodded.

"By who?"

The man shook his head, causing his wild hair to partially spill from under his top hat. Tristan tucked most of his locks back underneath, then said, "If I knew, I would not have wasted a moment to find them. Whoever put this here is powerful but also quite stupid."

I narrowed my eyes, "What makes you say that?"

"A Spirit-Binder is only ever functional in the mundane realms. They don't work anywhere else. Yet, this one was set up so as to appear ready to snap shut on it's intended target. As if the being who placed it didn't understand it's limitations. How one comes to possess, and identify, such a device yet not comprehend its boundaries is... intriguing."

"Maybe it's a trick," Dad offered.

"Maybe," Tristan replied, "and that's why I'll destroy it once I've shown you what it can do..."

The tone of his voice frightened me. I raised up from the bench and Dad did as well, shielding me with his body. "Don't you dare," Dad growled.

Tristan never flinched. "Relax, you two. I don't mean to bind your spirits. Didn't I just tell you it won't work here?"

I steadied myself and demanded, "How do we know we can trust you, Tristan?"

The man sat forward slightly, "Ouch. You pain me." He was clearly mocking me.

"I'm serious."

"As am I," he replied. "Right now, I'm telling you someone here, someone in the sanctuary, is trying to find you. To trap you. I showed you the very device they planned to use. Yet, still you doubt my sincerity?"

"You tricked us into coming here," I shouted, "using Theresa's voice! How can we trust you?"

When Tristan just shook his head as if disappointed, Dad said in a more measured voice, "Why are you helping us, Tristan? What's in it for you?"

"Ah," the man replied, "much more interesting questions." He waved and we were suddenly in the seating area where we'd first met him, the three of us sitting around a fire pit, steaming cups of tea already in our hands. "I've lived a long time past where I ever thought I might, even once I was given gifts from my immortal lover that would sustain me practically forever. I have all the food and drink I can consume. Drugs, of a sort, unlike any my mortal self could have imagined. I've travelled to places you cannot yet conceive. I've had access to women, men, boys, girls, creatures with organs and orifices that can make one orgasm just to sniff them..."

I wrinkled my nose at that last.

"But for all that abundance, the one thing I find in short supply is friendship. True friendship. Trust. Shared concern. A sense of camaraderie without jealousy and lies and steel boots stepping on you on their way up high. A warm fire around which sit those who give a fuck about you. Some years ago, Theresa was in need and I helped her. Things didn't work out well for her... but she never forgot my assistance, and she has repaid that to me several times over. I owe her, in a sense, but beyond that, she's one of the few who will let me rant for hours on the smallest thing and then offer me a comfort or two and a kind word at our parting. She looks forward to our rendezvouses. She's a simple, sweet, intelligent soul who I adore. She's in need again, and you, Tera, have a chance to do something grand for her. I'll do what I can to see that woman's wishes fulfilled, and if that means bringing you here through deceit to ensure you see this fucking thing," he shouted, shaking the Spirit-Binder in his fist, "then that's exactly what I'll do. That's why I'm helping you."

I wasn't sure I felt fully satisfied, but I didn't believe there was much point in challenging him further. I resigned to pushing forward. "So what do we do about this device?"

Tristan sat silent a moment, clearly calming himself. I hadn't meant to anger the man, but he seemed like he might be the type to rouse easily and passionately on most any subject, so I waited until he finally spoke. "You need to learn how to sense things like this, Tera. I cannot tell you how. I can only be certain that you are able to do so."

"Sense it..."

"There's an energy in the Spirit-Binder, taken from the higher realms. It will create an aura, of sorts, for those capable of sensing such things. I cannot. This one I stumbled on by chance. But I know of a few who have such abilities, and I have zero doubt that the essence you carry is fully capable."

"But I can't use any powers outside of here. I'll leave a mark on reality, you said," I protested.

"Mental projection is different. Projection is a... hmm... temporary movement of one's senses. So long as you pull it back and don't use it to affect the mundane world, no one will see you. I suppose," he hesitated, "there are those who might. But you'll need to learn to project yourself. It grants you tremendous foresight. It will let you find things which might harm you, or detect beings wishing to do the same. Learn this, use it. Sense the device, Tera."

I closed my eyes and tried to project my senses outward as if I had any notion of what I was doing. For the longest time, all I detected were the sounds of shuffling bodies moving in seats, the smell of Tristan's smoky, metallic cologne, heat from where Dad was nearby, and the ever-present existence of the essence.

But then I noticed something. Almost a coolness. At first, it was so muted and distant that I easily missed it, but the more I tried to focus on that chilly impression, the more certain I became that it was the device in Tristan's hand. My eyes still closed, I slowly walked to where he'd been sitting, enough awareness of my steps and my surroundings to travel the few feet easily enough. I reached out, the cold spot drawing closer and more obvious.

"Tera..." I heard Dad's voice say behind me. I ignored him a moment. I reached down lower. Tristan had moved it to his lap, I was sure. My fingers reached out and I wrapped them, certain I'd found the Spirit-Binder.

A strange, firm warmth, a small band of coolness, met my fingers. I opened my eyes and saw that Tristan's cock was in my hand, a tight metal ring beneath one finger around his shaft. I jerked my hand back. "What the hell?!"

The man smiled at me. "Nicely done."

"What the fuck's wrong with you," Dad shouted, yanking me backwards.

"Go easy," Tristan said quietly, "she succeeded."

"You tricked a girl into grabbing your cock, nothing more," Dad growled.

"Yes, but she nonetheless showed she was capable of finding devices like the Spirit-Binder."

I shook my head, wiping my hand on my dress, "What do you mean? All I found was your cock ring."

"This cock ring," he said, smacking his erect dick roughly a couple of times, "has a similar energy. You can find it the same way. The Spirit-Binder, I've hidden. Find it the way you did this fabulous toy on my prick."

I stepped back, pulling my arm from my father's grip, "Fine." Closing my eyes, I did the same as before, and at first, once more, there was nothing terribly interesting. I could still feel the cock ring, but I pushed awareness of it aside, shelved it so as not to confuse my senses.

The device was farther away, distant. It, too, was cold, like an orb of ice in my awareness. I began to walk, eyes closed, and I heard my father's footsteps behind me. I had no need to look with my eyes, I knew where to step, when to turn. I followed my senses some distance through several chambers until I came to a small corridor. I stopped, reached my hand to my left, and retrieved the Spirit-Binder from where it hung inside a hedge wall.

Opening my eyes, I saw the chain and half-moons sparkling in my fingers.

I turned to see Dad and Tristan just behind me, the short man's broad smile reasonably sincere in appearance. "Well done." He took the device from me and slid it into one of his many oddly-positioned pockets. "These things, Tera. They are in the mundane world. Rare, yes, but present. However, unlike the higher realms, they can actually work there. It's not just Spirit-Binders. There are other contraptions which will attempt to trap you, to lure you, to track you. When you find them, call to me and I will show you how to destroy them."

"Will you show me how to destroy this one?"

"Not this one," the man told me, "I wish to... study it first..."

"You said you were going to destroy it once you've shown me its purpose."

He nodded, "And so I spoke truth. However, I know it is a Spirit-Binder. What I do not yet understand is what else it does. See, Spirit-Binders aren't terribly useful unto themselves. They sort of mark a... first step... This one would have trapped you, had you encountered it in the mundane, but then what? It must report back to its owner, yes? Does it send a message? Does it travel to a predetermined location, your Spirit trapped inside? What of your body? What of your mind? Spirit-Binders can do many things once a mortal has been trapped... and many more should one of the dwellers of higher realms become its victim."

He shook his head. "It will remain with me until I can answer these questions. I will track down its owner and then I will... question... the being. Roughly, I expect... I'm dying to know how someone so stupid could have come to possess such a thing..." He looked up, eyes hidden behind smoky goggles, and added, "Then, and only then, will it be destroyed."

I blinked and Dad and I were alone again, seated in a simple rock depression along a hedge wall. Little bird-like creatures, the ones from an earlier encounter, pecked at the ground near our feet. Tristan was nowhere in sight. Dad let out a breath, "Jesus Christ... Just keeps getting better and better..."

I offered him a small smile, "At least we've got each other, right?"

Dad nodded and kissed my lips, "No better advantage in the world. Er... Universe... Er... what the hell are we calling all this, anyway? No Universe I ever heard off had guys morphing to have two cocks and Spirit-Binders and fallen gods..."

I shrugged, "Doesn't really matter what we call it, I suppose. Shall we?"

Dad nodded again, and I blinked us home.

- - -

The first thing I'd done after leaving the sanctuary was to project my senses and see if anything unusual could be detected. Dad went to see about dinner, and I sat on our bed for a long hour or two, feeling my way around myself. First in the room, then in the whole house. The neighborhood. The whole city. I felt the strain of the projection somewhere in between those last two distances. Beyond that, it was clear it would take a great deal more effort than I could harness to feel anything at all.

I detected nothing of interest, at least nothing that felt the icy-coolness of the Spirit-Binder, or Tristan's cock ring. There were some sensations that I came to realize were human beings. Dogs and birds in the air. Fish in ponds. Living things in many forms. Each had its own signature. I could even tell the different between Dad and our elderly neighbor, Mrs. Waters, and not just because the distances were different. It was rather neat, actually, to sense life in that way, to feel its warmth, to notice unique patterns that let me know who was who.

But no Spirit-Binders, thankfully, or anything else which felt the same. I gave up after a spell and went downstairs to find Dad in full battle with a pan loaded with sizzling vegetables and meats. I giggled when I saw him, his hair a mess on one side, an apron with two or three different things spilled on the front, more carnage from his meal-making scattered all over the counter. "Everything okay in here? Looks like a brutal fight going on," I said with a smile.

Dad looked back, beaming, "I'm winning."

The meal was rather good, half a dozen different vegetables, sliced steak and fresh scallops. I had missed that he'd gone out shopping. He told me he'd checked in on me a couple of times, that I seemed to be okay, not pale or short of breath like when I had visions of his time loop, so he thought he was fine to run out real quick. I was really glad he did. My stomach growled long before I took the first bite, and I sat back from the table, belching and full and rather content.

"Tell me something," I said to him after he echoed my burp with one of his own, "the girls... the ones you... got to know, with Kylie..."

I could see him tense up, so I rushed to continue, "I thought they were really pretty... and... Dad... I really liked seeing between the one girl's legs. What... what did she taste like?"

Dad looked at me with concern and guilt a moment. "I don't really remember, Tera. It... It happened so fast. Just a few licks... I remember I felt overwhelmed, to be doing that with such a young one. To taste parts of her body that were very private and very off-limits to anyone but her. It... it was intoxicating..."

"I ask," I said, "because... I... too... felt attraction to her. I wanted, when I saw you lean down between her legs, to be there with you... to smell her... to taste her... Dad, I'm wet right now just thinking about it..."

He nodded slowly. "It scares me, Tera. It scares me that I might... that we might... have the ability to do such things without consequence. Without consequence for the girl, I mean... Resetting time took away their experiences, took away it actually happening in reality, from what I can figure, but not from me. I remembered and... as much as I want to say never, ever again... just knowing I might one day be able to return and lick little Jacey again... consequence free... I can't tell you that I won't consider it..."

I felt bad for Dad. He was really struggling.

He went on. "I'm not saying I'm obsessed with her, or any girls, Tera. Other than you, of course," he said, a small smile forced into his expression, "not obsessed. But just knowing it's out there. Knowing how much I enjoyed that taste... I worry that I'll abuse someone and find out too late that I can't set things back. What if I'd ended the loop that night, Tera? What if, however I did it, I'd turned it off right when my tongue touched her little pussy? Things would have been awful for you. For her."

I looked down at my hands, "Maybe not for her... she seemed to like it, actually. I think... I might have liked it at that age..."

"But she's too young, way too young. She doesn't recognize abuse. Hell, you're fifteen, and before a few days in your timeline, I'd have sworn honestly that you were too young, too. And once someone finds out, once Jacey sees me being arrested, people will tell her she's been abused. She'll grow up thinking it was horrible, that what I'd done was horrible, and you know what, Tera? I think she'd be right..."

I didn't have any good answers. "Well... I'll promise you this... If we get to that point... where our temptations are met with the chance to do something about them... We'll figure it out together, okay?"

He nodded and reached for my hand. "I love you so much, Tera."

"I love you, Dad... Look... I'm kinda... horny right now... I know you may not be, you kinda seem down about this..."

My father squeezed my fingers. "Shamed to admit it, but just talking to you about Jacey... and how she tasted... has me rock hard..."

I led us up to the bedroom, and Dad and I made love for an hour or more, rutting away our arousal and our fears about the fantasies, and the actual experiences, which had gotten us going.

- - -

Skip. Dad was driving and he looked a little rough. He pulled to a stop and seemed to call to a black woman on the sidewalk. She leaned in the car. Even I knew she was a prostitute.

Skip. They were stopped, the woman beside Dad's car, squatting as if to pee. Dad pushed cash into her hand and pulled her up, bending her over the hood, my father soon plunging his uncovered cock into the woman's pussy.

Skip. Dad was in her ass now. The woman looked uncomfortable but wasn't struggling. Something looked odd. I realized the prostitute's ass was really dirty, like she'd needed a bowel movement before Dad sodomized her. I felt revulsion, but I couldn't stop watching. Dad soon emptied himself in the woman's butt. I finally looked away from her when she squatted down and started to empty her bowels. Dad roughly wiped his filthy penis with a towel.

Skip. Dad and I were seated on our couch, and I could tell he wasn't feeling well. It was also clear that, wearing only a nightshirt, I was leaving a perfect angle between my legs for him to easily see my pussy. I'd done that a few times in the previous months, Dad never noticing what I was revealing. It was actually nice to see him so obviously looking between my legs.

And then I watched us kiss. A simple kiss. A warm kiss. Not a father-daughter kiss. It lasted mere seconds, but it warmed me to watch that moment from afar. If Dad didn't fuck me after that, I really wasn't giving him nearly enough credit for his restraint.

- - -

"Shawna, I think her name was," Dad said quietly, "I'm... ashamed of that one, too... It was because of how I felt about myself after Jacey... I just wanted... I dunno. Roughness. Not to hurt her, but... I felt... so dirty."

"Looked beyond dirty to me, Dad..."

We were sitting on the hood of the car near the entrance to the library. It had been a couple of days since our visit with Tristan, and we were still no closer to figuring out important details than we were then. Dad drove us around so that we could get a change of scenery. We ate lunch at a Japanese place, then walked down in the public park which had the statues of Theresa and her father. I felt a little sad knowing what had happened to him. Dad clearly felt the same, so we didn't linger, instead driving some more and eventually parking at the library a couple of hours before it closed.

I heard him sigh, "Disgusting, really... Its how I felt about myself."

After some silence, I asked, "Had you ever... you know... done anything like that before?"

"What I did to Shawna? No, never. Nothing remotely close..."

"No, I mean... you know... getting dirty like that..."

"Oh," he replied, "uh... Yeah, I suppose. A few times... By accident, you know... spontaneous and such..."

"With Mom?"

He nodded, "Yeah. Mostly her."

"Did you think it was disgusting then?"

He shook his head, "It was nothing like with Shawna..."

"Well, I assumed that... but, you know, did it smell bad?"

I watched Dad think over his response. "No... I suppose not. I guess it should have been kinda gross, but... the honest truth is... you know, in the heat of the moment, it's kinda... exciting... to smell her ass like that... Really raw... really... animalistic..."

I wasn't sure why I was pushing him, but I wasn't as disgusted as I thought I might be by his admission. I pressed on, "So... even if you looked down and saw that you were getting... dirty... you kept going and got more excited?"

Dad narrowed his eyes, "Why are you asking, Tera? Odd questions, even given what we usually talk about... and what we've done together..."

"I dunno. I was just thinking about when you were in my butt and... at the time... I didn't even think about it like that... But... after seeing you and Shawna... I'll always be worried that I'm not clean enough."

Dad took my hand. Carefully, since we were in public. Just holding it between us. "Listen, Tera. Sometimes it gets dirty. You can't always get it all out. Not like the porn stars do. But they don't eat and drink cleanses and shoot enemas up their backsides until you could eat off their buttholes."

I laughed loudly, nearly falling from the hood. Dad kept hold of my hand, laughing with me, and kept me stable until I'd regained control.

He continued, somehow keeping a straight face when he told me, "Believe me, Tera, the last thing I'm worried about is whether your shit gets on my dick when I'm fucking you in the ass..."

I lost it again and this time, not even Dad's grip could keep me from falling. "Okay," I said, trying to breath, "okay... You win. You win... I give..." Dad helped me up and we went inside the library to waste a little more time.

- - -

Our local branch wasn't really much to see. The much bigger main one downtown held ten times the books, magazines, and other media, if not more. This one served the suburban area in which we lived, and I'd sometimes had Dad drive me down so that I could wander the short aisles to find something to read.

I thought about all the hours I'd spent reading in my life. Fantasy novels. Pop fiction. Crime and supernatural mysteries. An occasional biography. I liked reading and Dad did, too, so it was somewhat comforting to be surrounded by books and a handful of quiet, calm people for a change.

I wasn't really browsing for anything specific. I realized that what I was actually doing was trying to avoid more attempts to address my ignorance about the essence and how to use it. I was frightened of it, of what it could do. Of what I could do with it. Protecting myself, and my father, were important priorities, but I guess I'd let myself become a little gun-shy. It hadn't helped to see my father with the young girl, Jacey, and to recognize the temptation he described in such a personal way. To feel at least a little of what he experienced in me, as well. It had led me to spend a couple of days staying in the mundane and avoiding the chance to test myself once more in the secure environs of the sanctuary.

"Don't you think it's odd," Dad mused as he flipped through an old book on mythology, "that no one ever names the fallen god? They just call him the 'fallen one' or 'fallen god.' Surely, he had a name."

I nodded, "I had noticed. There must be a reason. Maybe, like Voldemort in Harry Potter, they fear the name. That voicing it might give him power. Seems silly as I say that, though."

"Maybe not so silly," he replied, "we only barely understand how things work outside of this place. Maybe names are more powerful... somehow."

I shrugged, running my fingers along the spines of the row of books to my left.

"Hey, check it out," Dad whispered.

I turned back and leaned forward to see the pages Dad had open in his hands. "Daedalus..."

I took the book and leaned against the support column beside the shelf, reading quickly. "Created the Labyrinth, the one with the Minotaur, and was locked up to keep his knowledge of the maze from being discovered. Had a son, Icarus. They were both thrown in the Labyrinth where Daedalus made wings for them to escape. He warned his son not to fly too high or too low... but Icarus didn't listen, flying too close to the sun, burning away his wings, and falling to the sea... drowning."

"That rings a bell or two," Dad said quietly. "I don't know how much that helps us understand our enemy... but anyone who would choose the name Daedalus understands the common mythology. Perhaps there's something in his past, or, he hopes, in his future... which mirrors the story of his namesake."

"A child who died, or a creation turned evil, like the Labyrinth?" I asked.

"Something like that. It's not much, I know."

"It's more than we had a minute ago."

"Stay away from Minotaurs, Tera," Dad said with a thin smile, "and Labyrinths."

"And you," I said, not feeling any mirth and thinking much more seriously about the conversations we'd had about temptations, "don't fly too high... or too low..."

- - -

Taking Dad and myself to the sanctuary was so easy it happened faster than I could blink. We'd wasted another day, making love a while but mostly idling, each of us self-consumed by our worries and our ignorance. I finally willed myself to do something about the latter, and that meant trying to tame the essence and the power which came from it.

I took us, apparently, to what looked more like a cave entrance than a regular spot in the sanctuary. Only one side of the open-air chamber had the usual hedge walls. The other three were massive stones, boulders bigger than buses, and the side opposite the hedge was a shadowy, voluminous recessed stone alcove perhaps a hundred yards deep and twice that across. Several small fires burned in shallow pits and in braziers along the cave's stone walls. Dad and I walked its perimeter but it appeared to be a simple dead end.

There was a clear demarkation just where the cave overhung the stone ground below, incredibly dark on one side, unnaturally bright on the part outside the entrance. It almost looked like pitch and sunlight meeting in a stalemate.

The stone was surprising warm, and felt softer on my bare feet than any stone should have been. I conjured up two comfortable chairs, then called out for Theresa and Tristan, but neither responded and I didn't worry much about it. I closed my eyes, and tried my best to feel some new way of grasping the power of the essence.

In some ways, it felt like trying to understand the nature of ice by running my hands through a rapid, rushing river. The idea of it was always there, the many things the essence could do, but just a hint of it. Like the river, I couldn't get to understanding ice until I'd mastered the concepts of thermodynamics and crystallization and even quantum mechanics. But I knew, from my freshman physics class, that water ice was not simply a single, easily-understandable thing. There were many phases of ice, different matrixes in which it could take shape, different properties it might possess. I grew frustrated realizing that the essence and its powers were orders of magnitude more complex than my analogy.

But the analogy helped me a little, too, by assigning a story, of sorts, to what I was trying to do. I realized I couldn't keep trying to take hold of all the things the essence was capable of doing and instead I needed to refine one thing, just as I had when learning to conjure. I decided to try again with the physical projection I'd tried days earlier. I hiked up my skirt and closed my eyes, trying to carefully warm the skin just above my knee.

I'd missed something key when I'd tried before. I thought of myself, my skin, in an isolated way, as if I needed to bridge a fundamental gap between my intentions and the flesh itself. But that was all wrong. The essence already contained that bridge. It already was in contact with my flesh, or anyone's flesh, or anything in reality. Instead of trying to move heat across the divide, I simply had to make reality change as if pointing my finger or stretching a leg.

The flesh above my knee warmed so fast I shrieked and jumped from my chair. Dad's eyes shot to me and before he could say a word, I grabbed the edge of my dress and pulled it higher.

An angry red welt the size of a dime made it clear I'd broken through. "I did it!"

"Did what? Are you okay?" Dad said, concerned.

"I projected something different. I burned myself. Look!"

"Jesus, Tera... that looks like it hurts," he said, leaning forward, "couldn't you have tried something more... gentle?"

I shrugged, "Probably... now that I have some idea of how... let's see if I really have an clue here..."

Much faster this time, I changed the nature of the flesh above my knee and immediately felt relief. The red welt was replaced by my normal, pale beige skin, freckles and all, as if it had never been harmed. "Yes!" I shouted in relief.

I tried all sorts of things then. I made one of the fire pits melt into bubbling lava then replaced it with a small stone statue of my father. I created a painting above us in the cave which looked something like the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Well, maybe a four-year old's crayon version of it, anyway, but it wasn't simply stone painted over, but I made it of glass and silver and even caused the blue sky to be actual sky, as best I could figure it. The white clouds in the scene even drifted slowly across.

This sort of projection was different than conjuration. When conjuring, I willed something into being, or pulled it from another place, instantly reorganizing reality in such a way that I could almost feel space and time bend to accommodate me. Physical projections, physical manipulations, were more subtle, more asking reality to change than forcing it. The cave's own molecules changed. Nothing was pulled from nowhere, or was traveled, to create my fresco above. The cave's stone became both canvas and ink.

I was beginning to understand the nuances in my powers, at least a little, and I felt the great weight of possibilities, and of responsibilities, so suddenly that I sank back into my chair, breathing deeply. Dad put his hand on my knee, "Tera...?"

"I'm okay... I'm okay... a little overwhelmed."

Soft footsteps came from out near the cave entrance and I turned to see a tall, thin, dark-skinned man and a short, pale woman walking along the hedge wall. I knew instinctively to hide my work and in a blink caused the statue to return to its original state as a fire pit and the cave ceiling was once more unnaturally-warm stone.

The couple stopped and looked our way, the man saying, "Oh, hello there."

He wore what I can only describe as an orange and brown fur pouch for his genitals, skin otherwise bared, a pair of narrow glasses resting on his nose. The woman, much shorter than he, was similarly exposed, her large, heavy breasts hanging to her upper stomach which was rounded and large, her crotch concealed by a pair of panties with matched the pouch on the man. She, too, wore narrow glasses.

"Hello," I offered quietly. Despite the distance between us, I had no problem hearing them speak.

"New here?" The woman asked.

"Uh... yeah," I replied, not offering more than an acknowledgement.

"Well, welcome. Guests, I assume?" the man asked.

I nodded, "Yes," but didn't say more about whose. "Lovely place."

The woman smiled and said, "And yet you've chosen to hide within stone! An odd way to spend your visit!"

"Err," I stammered, "It's nice, actually. Warm..."

"Well, yes, dear," she said, sighing and almost lecturing me in reply, "but it isn't a normal place for you to be. Are you guests of Hypnos, then?"

"Who?" Dad asked.

I said, "No, not of Hypnos. Why?"

"Ah," she replied, "well, he can be rather... odd... about visitors in his cave... You might consider not hanging around here again. Not a man who enjoys surprises, and certainly will not be fond of finding someone else's overly-clothed guests simply... idling... in his personal space!"

"Oh," Dad said, "We didn't know. We'll leave straightaway."

The man spoke up, "Come, join us and take ease, if you will. We are going to walk the banks of the Lethe. It is just here," he added, pointing forward.

I looked at Dad, and I sensed his opinion. Mind-reading, in a way, but more a general idea of his answer to the invitation rather than hearing his inner monologue. He thought we should join the couple because we needed information, whatever we could get. I replied, "Alright. We'll be along."

The man nodded and the couple went strolling on.

"Just what I was thinking," Dad said as we rose to our feet after the two were out of sight.

"I know," I said in a whisper, "I could sense what you wanted."

"Hmm?"

"Not sure how... but I got a strong impression that you thought we might learn something if we tagged along."

"That's'... exactly right. Jesus, mind-reading, Tera?"

I shrugged, "Not precisely. Call it... a woman's intuition."

Dad smiled, "What am I thinking right now?"

I tried to settle on the impression of his thoughts and giggled, "Dad! Jesus. Not that I need to mind-read you to know you're thinking about bending me over and fucking me right here. Come on, already!" I took his hand and we paced quickly in the direction the strangers had disappeared along the hedge wall.

- - -

The pale, short woman's name was Sasha, her dark-skinned companion, Simon. They were both former mortals who had been traveling the higher realms for over a hundred years. I revealed little about my father and I, offering our names and little more. When Sasha had asked who had sponsored our trip to the sanctuary, I had, out of nowhere, told her it was Tristan. I hoped to shield Theresa for some reason, and Tristan seemed like a less troubling option in reply. They knew him, somewhat, and showed no other reaction to his name.

"Where is the man, anyway?" Sasha asked. "Very strange of him to guide you here only to leave you alone in the cave of Hypnos."

Simon replied before I could gather a reasonable lie, "Tristan is a strange one, my dear. Do you really believe he does things in a reasonable manner? He likes to play little games. Harmless ones, but games all the same."

That seemed to satisfy the woman, and I didn't have to voice my own response.

"This river," I asked after we'd walked along the rocky banks of the flowing water for some moments, "it has a name?"

Sasha laughed, "Yes, dear. It is called Lethe, taken, I'm certain, from one of the mythical underworld stories. Appropriate that it is beside the cave of the man who fancies himself Hypnos, yes?"

I didn't know the story, and I told her so.

"Ah, well, I'm no scholar on such things," she replied.

Simon offered, "Lethe was one of the rivers of Hades in the Greek myths, running out from a cave where a Greek trickster of sorts lived. Sort of a being who represented sleep. The man here who has taken the name Hypnos is old, that much I know, and he usually stays in the cave, alone, brooding, or, ironically enough, apparently sleeping, for some reason. I've only talked with him once. He is not much fun to converse with, so I generally do not engage him in conversation."

"Do people own places here? In the sanctuary?" Dad asked.

"Not like you might think," Sasha replied, "it's more... territorial. Beings pick their favorite places and get angry or upset should anyone use them without first asking. Silly, I think, to be so possessive. There are no real limitations here. No reason to grasp and defend places against others. It defeats the entire purpose of being here."

Dad said, "Purpose? We'd been told that the gods set this place aside for themselves as a sanctuary away from the struggles elsewhere."

Sasha nodded as we stopped a top a long, flat boulder hanging over the churning river below, "That is my understanding, but I believe this place holds a more important role in things."

"Such as?" I inquired.

"It lets all of us test ourselves... without consequence."

"Test ourselves..."

"Ourselves," she corrected me, apparently considering me and my father fully mundane. I didn't correct her assumption. "Each of us has abilities, powers, of one fancy or another. No harm can be done here, and so, we are free to try out things which might otherwise cause great harm."

"Like what?" Dad breathed, listening closely to the woman's words.

"Oh, anything, really, for example..."

I watched as the woman smiled and closed her eyes. Simon's body lunged forward then dangled just over the edge of the boulder suddenly. I felt my stomach lurch in concern, but the man showed no such response. "I can compel others to do things I wish done. I could make him let go right now..." Simon disappeared over the edge, then was immediately standing back beside the short woman. "But the sanctuary prevents his harm. It can try out things, new twists to old ideas. Very useful practice for going back to other realms, or somewhere mundane." Sasha practically sneered the last word with disdain clear in her tone.

Simon shook his head, "Every time you do that, I wonder just when the rules here might change, my dear..." Though he'd shown no concern when dangling by his toes over the edge, the man's voice didn't completely hide the edge of doubt.

"Rules don't change here, as you know..."

Simon replied, "Yet..."

Sasha shrugged and set her foot forward, turning off the boulder and moving along, Simon at her side, at a steady clip along the Lethe.

"You say no harm can happen here, yet... how is that defined, exactly?" I asked after a moment.

Simon replied, "It isn't always clear. No physical pain. No torture. No death or violence. Those are implicitly disallowed."

"But...," I began, making up a cover story for the real event, "I, uh... I accidently scratched myself with my nail earlier.. That left a mark..."

"No harm from others, I mean. You may hurt yourself all you please, just not another."

"Mental harm, though?"

There was silence a moment before the man said softly, "Gods do not understand such things. They do not have... minds... in the same way as I do... or as you mortals do... I don't believe they consider such things. Mostly," he said more brightly, "there is no mental torture, either, because it often generates physical responses. Since those can't happen, the triggers to them must be disallowed as well. But," his tone darkening again, "you can feel fear. And sadness. Someone can drive you to doubt yourself fiercely, to doubt your own mind. It's all a grey area, I'm afraid. Why, I wonder... do you ask?"

I shook my head, "Just... learning the rules..."

"Does everyone fashion themselves a player from Greek mythology?" Dad asked.

Simon replied, "No, far from it. But many former mortals... Earthly mortals... seem to be rather taken by such stories, and as a result, many of them chose to identify with some Hero or other. Or this story more recently... what was it called, my dear?"

"Harry Potter," Sasha said with a measure of disgust, "such silly things people choose to embrace."

Simon ignored his wife's opinion, adding, "There are quite a few women, and more than a couple of men, who have taken to calling themselves Henrietta after the young girl from the book."

"Hermione," I corrected him.

"Ah, yes. Hermione. That's the one. Rather like that name myself. Flows rather nicely from one's tongue, right dear?"

She grunted but didn't comment further.

The river seemed endless and I asked, "Where are the edges of this place?"

"Edges?" Sasha asked, starting to sound annoyed with my questions, "Whatever do you mean edges?"

"Like, the walls... or... boundaries. Surely there are some places where the sanctuary no longer stretches. Somewhere outside of here." I'd yet to see any such things so far, the immense expanse going off into whichever distance I choose to seek out, a little hazy the further out I looked, but never did I see a wall or demarkation of any sort.

Sasha grunted again, but Simon answered me by saying, "You think of this place the wrong way. It simply is. It's another realm, and realms do not have the sort of limitations on space or time that the mundane might have. There are no edges."

"So is everything carefully defined? You know, hedges and rivers and such? If I went, say, a thousand miles that way," I pointed in an arbitrary direction, "I'd see the same things, like a fractal?"

"In a way," he replied, "yes. But also no. I suspect you have barely seen anything at all here. Some places are like this, hedges and whatnot, some are like deserts or snow-covered mountains, or landscapes alien to Earthly mortals. Many places are much more... complicated."

"How so?"

"Simon," Sasha practically growled, "mundanes cannot possibly understand. Why bother trying to explain? I'm growing bored. I'm going to find an attendant to bathe me." The woman simply disappeared.

Simon paused a moment, then turned back to me. "My apologies for her attitude. I love her dearly, but Sasha is not as... patient... with mortals as I'd wish. By complicated, I mean that the rules you are used to, the ones mostly seen near the cave or the Lethe, don't always apply. Up can be down. And that's just a very simple way of considering things. What seems deep is really shallow. You can literally be inside out and experience the sanctuary as if your skin was on the inside. Most mortals never go to such places because their minds cannot take such bizarre twists. More than a few have never recovered from such experiences. I daresay that your host will not allow you to venture into such places. Wherever that man is currently. Do you think he has abandoned you? If you wish to leave this place, I can summon an attendant to send you back to the mundane."

"No," I said quickly, "thanks. We'll just... wait for him."

Simon looked a little sad for us, as if we were stray puppies wandering in an alley. "As you wish. I will be going, as well. It was nice to talk with you both. Take care."

Simon disappeared, and I looked at Dad and saw that he was clearly as confused as I was.

- - -

I practiced physical projection in a small open chamber with dozens of little bird-like creatures doing what I'd only ever seen them do, picking through the leaves of green grass to pull up squiggling morsels, swallowing them in rapid gulps before pecking for more. I found that I could control the intensity with practice, warming my knee instead of burning it. Slowly melting a stone instead of turning it to lava. Slicing a groove in the wooden bench instead of cleaving it in two.

I even convinced Dad to let me try my new abilities on him. I alternately cooled and heated his cheek, careful not to let it become too extreme. The more I played with the physical projection, the easier it became. I had no doubts, after an hour or two, that I could have set him on fire and burned him to ash with less than a thought.

I conjured up bowls of lamb and lentil soup and we devoured them with steaming husks of crusty brown bread, drinking sweet, red wine in chalices made from gold and studded with emeralds. Relaxing a bit, I started to feel my arousal returning with force. "Dad?" I said with a grin.

"Hmm?" he replied, wiping a drop of wine from his lip and then cleaning it from his finger.

"I want to try something... a projection. On you. If I can."

Dad looked at me, "I trust you," he assured me, "just don't give me a vagina. Don't think I'm ready for that just now."

I laughed, "Maybe later. But along those lines..."

I made his clothing and mine disappear and took us to the soft, grassy mound where we'd first made love with Theresa. Dad was on his back, his penis soft for the moment. I began to send my projection with subtlety, and at first, all that happened was Dad growing erect. Given that it was so easy to cause that effect without my mortal abilities, it wasn't really much of a demonstration.

I closed my eyes and sculpted my new creation from the grasses on the mound, drawing each leaf up, slowly at first, deliberately observing the changes I made. One by one, they began to change and reform, soon the size of a peach, then a melon, limbs forming slowly, branching out. I heard Dad gasp, but I continued. Faster now, I brought the pieces together, working from memory, adding tone and shadow, ensuring textures were perfect. I had to guess at the way the creation might sound, but I did my best on that, as well.

I opened my eyes and standing over Dad's exposed body was my creation of Jacey, the seven-year old Dad had licked before being caught by Kylie. She was completely nude. I could see him staring in disbelief.

"It's okay, Dad... It's not her. She's only my creation, not a real mortal. The real Jacey has not been harmed or brought here. I... I thought you might like to play with her... and with me..."

"Tera... I don't know..."

"I want us both to know... that if we face temptation... there are other options. There are other ways for things to play out. I'm simply borrowing from your memories, and mine. She may not be perfectly Jacey... But I hope she is close enough."

"God... She's... beautiful..."

I smiled and knelt down beside my father, running my hand over Jacey's round little bottom. It felt warm to the touch, but the softness was wrong, too much give under my fingers. I adjusted the doppelganger and was satisfied with her firmness. A seven-year old bottom, I imagined, would still be quite easily squeezed, but the consistency had been more like a half-melted marshmallow, not enough resistance. Now, it played in my hand more like a little girl bottom should.

Dad just stared a moment. "Is she... real?"

"In a sense," I explained. "She's not a mortal, or a being of any sort. Maybe... closer to a squishy robot than a human." I felt the truth of my words as I spoke them. "There's no mind there, no thoughts. She'll react in natural ways, mimicking a real girl, but otherwise... We cannot cause her harm. There's really no her to harm."

"God, Tera... this is... amazing!"

I smiled. "Why not taste her, Dad? I'm still working out the details... let me know if she needs... adjusting..."

Dad raised his hands and caressed Jacey's hips a moment. "She feels so real..." He gently drew the girl down to squat over his face, spreading her thighs wide, and swept his tongue right into the child's vagina. "Mmmmm... Mmmm... Mmmm..." he moaned.

"Well?"

Dad pulled his lips free just long enough to tell me, "God, so delicious!"

I began to stroke Dad's cock with my fingers, the tip already leaking precum. I teased a drop with my tongue, tasting his sweetness while he ate Jacey's pussy. I worked my way down the head of Dad's penis, enjoying his meaty flesh. He was already beginning to thrust up into my mouth with rising urgency.

I slipped my pussy down over his length and groaned with delight, caressing Jacey's ass as the girl softly moaned. Her voice was just a touch too deep and throaty, so I adjusted her vocal cords, and heard a sweeter, more youthful sigh from her lips. I swept a finger up through Jacey's buttocks, teasing her tiny little hairless butthole and felt her stiffen in response. Perfect reaction, I thought.

Riding Dad, I began to grow wet around him, creaming his length as he started to writhe, his wonderful moans muffled by the child's cunt. I leaned forward and drew Jacey's head back, turning it, meeting her pretty eyes before I slid my tongue into her mouth. She tasted like cotton candy. Perhaps I'd overdone that bit, but I enjoyed the flavor and didn't mess with my recipe. I could see Dad's face just below, the girl's juices all over his cheeks, my father clearly in heaven to be tasting Jacey again.

I felt him straining, swelling, and I knew he was going to release. His moan was long and low as as his tongue probed the child's hairless vagina, and I felt his seed spurting forcefully by the way his penis jerked strongly six, seven, eight times inside my body. I shuddered in pleasure when I felt Dad's semen squishing out of my pink cunt.

"Goddamn, Tera!" Dad said, gasping for breath, "Goddamn!"

I purred with delight, "Like that, huh?"

"God yes! I came so hard inside you!"

"Mmm... So I felt..."

"You have to taste her, Sweetheart," he told me, "you have to taste her..."

I rose from Dad's body and he carefully laid the girl on her back. Jacey giggled, just like I'd designed her to do, her skin flushed. I drew down and looked at her raw, puffy slit, tiny, much smaller than mine, the hole there barely visible, the flesh wet from my father's tongue, and from how her little pussy had creamed itself the whole time.

I spread her little lips and gazed inside. I'd had to mostly work from fuzzy images of Jacey seen in Dad's experiences plus my own memories of seeing other pussies. I couldn't tell if I'd been all that accurate inside her labia, but she looked incredibly inviting and I dove in, burying my face between Jacey's thighs, and I started to lick up the sweet, pungent cream sliding out.

The softness was so delightful. I could fit her entire slit on under my tongue. I held in place, the tip of my tongue near her tiny anus, her hard, immature clit an inch or two further back. She giggled and I felt Dad's hands on my ass as he started to touch me and tease my flesh, his cum still leaking out of my body.

Jacey started to strain and twist her legs. She giggled, but it was a more sensual laughter, more full of arousal. I teased her tiny clit, then felt her stiffen. Jacey climaxed in a sweet rush, "Nnnnnnnng! Nnnnnnng! Nnnnnnng!," flooding my tongue with her sticky cream. I swallowed every drop.

My lust growing in force, I had only one desire in that moment.

I changed myself in a blink, the erect penis already in place by the time I leaned up and shifted forward over the little girl. She watched me with a grin as if her hollow mind understood what I was going to do.

Dad certainly knew. "Fuck her, Tera... Fuck Jacey's tiny pussy!"

I'd made her opening small based on what I'd seen, but I thought I might have overdone it at first. I'd given her a sheer white film inside her vagina, certain the real Jacey probably had such a hymen. My penis leaked cum trying to slide in, but I was only able to get half the tip of my cock between Jacey's little labia before I felt resistance. I pushed forward, trying to break through, stretching Jacey's lips around my cock. Failing again, I almost tweaked the doppelganger's vagina to better accommodate me.

But instead, I jerked my hips forward, rough and urgent. Jacey gasped and cried out. I felt intense, tight heat wrap around half my length. I looked down and saw my penis mostly buried inside the young child, a smear of blood along my shaft. I struggled to hold back my orgasm. I knew I wouldn't last long, already teetering on the edge.

Then I felt a new sensation. I was opened up from behind. I wasn't sure at first why my ass felt so different than when Dad had fucked me there before. Then I realized he had pushed his dick into my vagina. So, it seemed, I did have both organs.

I convulsed, slamming deep into Jacey's cunt while Dad began to mate urgently with me from behind. "Fuck me Dad... Fuck us..." In that moment, I molded my vagina to match Jacey's shape and depth and texture.

Dad groaned and cried out, "Oh, fuck! Tera! Oh, fuck!" He had trouble sliding in and out with my tightened channel holding him fast. I jerked below him, causing his cock to move inside me. I felt him straining already, and I was freely drooling cream into Jacey's body, as if orgasming slowly but urgently over long moments.

I held off as long as I could, the tight child's body beginning to orgasm as second time. I felt Dad swell in my pussy, stretching me to the limit, the same way I was stretching Jacey's little pussy with my cock. "Cumming!" Dad bellowed, "aaaaaaarrrrrrrnnnnn... Mmmmmmmm..."

He filled me and I let go.

"Uhhnnnnnn... Uhnnnnn... Uhnnn! Uhnnn! Uhnnn!" I ejaculated into Jacey's cunt, overflowing it almost immediately, the little girl's hairless hole stretched and raw around my penetration, the girl moaning in a high voice as her own orgasm rushed in. I spurted hard, as deep as I could be inside Jacey's body. The sensation of the little body below me, little legs wrapped around me, while my father ejaculated in my vagina, was simply overwhelming. I spurted and spurted, losing myself in that moment.

I was awash in pleasure and possibilities, Dad and I falling over to the side, his cock slipping free. I let go my own penis after watching it pull out of Jacey's gaping pussy, firing one last spurt onto the girl's flat stomach before I conjured it away and returned to normal. I relaxed, closing my eyes, and drifted with a smile on my face, Dad's hands on my puffy breasts, his hot breath on my neck.

"You sent her away," he said quietly after some time.

"Hmm?" I murmured, "what?"

"Jacey. She disappeared."

I cracked my eyes and saw that my creation was gone. I suppose I'd felt it go some moments earlier. That was a good lesson to learn. Physical projections required some measure of continual intention to remain. Otherwise, they returned to their original states. I hadn't realized I'd been consciously holding Jacey's form in place, but I felt the difference once she was gone. "Just blades of grass again..." I whispered. I explained very briefly how the doppelganger had come to be.

"That was so... hot, Tera... So... hot..." he told me.

I grinned. "I agree."

"And you're right... that was much better than any temptation I might have for the real Jacey... so much better. I didn't feel one ounce of shame or guilt... and I loved... Loved... sharing her with you..."

I purred, "I came so hard inside her... Did you see how much I came?"

He smiled, "I did, though... I have to ask... You didn't have balls, Tera. Where'd the cum come from?"

I wasn't really sure, to be honest. "I dunno. Maybe that's just part of the conjuration. I don't need balls to be able to ejaculate sperm... I'll ask Theresa next time I see her... I don't remember her having them, either."

Dad laughed and rolled with me on the soft grass. "If we've gone insane, Tera. If the real you and me, we're just tied up in some loony bin in reality, I hope we never find out..."

"Agreed. Though, do you really think that would stop you from wanting to fuck every nurse who came in to check your restraints?"

"No. And I have no doubt you'd be wishing you had a big dick so you could bend one of them over for yourself..."

I giggled. "I rather enjoy having a penis, Dad. Not as much as my actual genitals, but it's kinda fun to be able to fuck a girl like that. I see why guys like it so much."

I felt very relaxed and wanted to cuddle, so I blinked us into a cozy chamber which had grape vines overhanging the small area, a perfectly-soft mattress beside a small fire, Dad and I under the covers and snuggling together. "Do you think anyone will disturb us here? I don't think we should fall asleep," he worried.

"I'll stay awake. I'm not sure I really need sleep here, anyway. You?"

"Now that you mention it... I don't think I do either. Maybe it's just the habit of sleeping that my body is remembering right now."

"So," I purred, "just hold me a while and kiss me and tell me you love me..."

As I knew he would, my father did just that and melted my heart all over again.

Tera, Female, 15

	- Narrator, host of the essence, daughter of Quinn

	- 5'7, pale-beige skin, 135lbs, shoulder-length bright copper-orange-red hair

Quinn, Male, 41

	- Former host, father of Tera

	- 6'0, beige skin, 190lbs, wavy blonde-brown hair a few inches long

Tristan, Male (Morph), 40s

	- Former mortal

	- 5'4, tanned-bronze skin, 155lbs, wiry, tangled dark-brown hair

Jacey, Female, 7

	- Girl from Quinn's time loop

	- 4'0, beige skin, 55lbs, brown shoulder-length hair