Lord & Master
Chapter I (M/MFbg, ped, inc, oral, bi, cuck, mc, ws, scat)
by PervRat
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Foreword from the author:
This is where the obvious goes, where if we had established such with all the perverts who read this stuff (from the king/queen perverts who write this stuff! :P), we'd use that established safeword to let you know this waah waah text is out of the story and is actually real instead of the enticing "ooh this actually happened" that helps to tease a mystique, yadda yadda ... yeah yeah I like to ramble and I'm sorry.  I think to keep a fantasy life healthy, though, its truly important to keep onesself afloat by maintaining the distinction.  In no way do I at all condone the molestation of children IRL, nor the violation of any being's consent, and were such a thing impossible the controlling of another's thoughts (except in such cases where, to a degree and clumsily, such is actually done through drugs and chemicals to try and defray the extreme and harmful thoughts of those who unfortunately -- unhumorously and unentertainingly -- have lost control of their thoughts).

I've already rambled too much on the subject, however, and while I view it as important, I'll save the rest for a blurb after the end of the story.  All that being said, please enjoy an indulgence in a dark perversion with me ...
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Its all about ... well, lust.  If ever an author canting a tale could come up with a worse opening line, I can't quite imagine it, but that, my victim, is the strongest truth I can make -- it is all about lust.

My victim?  You think of yourself as a mere reader, but you see that makes you my worst victim.  I have not altered your mind as I have my more 'obvious' victims.  I've drawn you in with a dark tale without dousing your angry reaction, and so naturally you will feel angry the more you read.  You will want to seek me out, find me, take your revenge, but my true identity is lost behind IP addresses and an anonymous posting service, so you will be left with your seething anger, your horror at my recount of my lusty accomplishments ... and most definitely, though you would never admit it, in the darkest part of your soul you wish you would never admit to, you long to be me.  Whether its a cop or a priest, the most loving father has a sexual desire for his own children and those of others.  We hide it from ourselves, some do a good job at repressing such desires for themselves, but every man -- and woman, lest I forget, have them.  In that sense, not the one that I used my abilities to touch and read your mind, I know indeed how you feel, and that should incense you even further.  And yet you can do nothing!  Wallow in your writhing fury toward me!

My abilities indeed.  They were not something special I was born with, nor did they suddenly arise from an accident.  Every living being has the ability within themselves to alter the world around them merely with their minds, including the minds of others, and it is not an overly complicated thing to do really -- it is merely very difficult to break through our long-ingrained make-believe laws of science is science, fact is fact, there may be a God above but there are no telepathic psychic abilities; that is all a bunch of voodoo nonsense mumbo jumbo!

It took a long time with a lot of long moments of having nothing but misery and shame of my own to drown me.  Unlike Mr. Brooks, I had neither any friends in low places nor taste for whiskey to drown my tears away ... I was a bum sickened to be.  No job, no home, just a mind that went too far down paths that had no practical use in my real life.  I could spend an entire day laying on a park bench staring at one branch on one tree.

Done long enough, I had occasional whispers on the breeze wondering if the tree could think.  Ridiculous, you say -- a tree lacks a nervous system and lacks a brain.  Nonetheless, science actually has shown that trees communicate, a tree that catches an infection will tend to somehow warn its neighbors even if they are not touched by the disease, and the neighboring trees will alter themselves to protect against it.  Clearly, there is communication of some type that does not require speech, sight or touch, as trees lack all of these physical senses.

I could bore you with the very slow and gradual ascent I made from normal thoughts of the "real world" of corporatism and Christianity, but already your lust grows yearning and soon will bore you away from my story.  Suffice it to say, I did not expect such thoughts to go anywhere, as my thoughts often ramble and go nowhere, but they were the start of my self-discovery of my ability to manipulate things around me -- things as in thoughts and feelings.

It took years before I could competently sense auras and feelings, years more before I could sense thoughts.  However gradual, over time the discovery of abilities accelerated, and it wasn't that much longer after that -- years altogether of being a bum in one park or another -- that I could touch and manipulate minds.  I guess the first seemingly small step of achievement on this was the day I no longer needed to actively panhandle ... I could, instead, focus on someone nearby or even less nearby whom I would observe for a bit.  Of course an idle glance would be cast my way -- but that was not my touch, of course, everyone notices bums through glances, for only after they are noticed could we pretend to ignore them.  But this pretense of ignoring ... that is what I first manipulated.

I grasped their desire to stare and held it, and from that first touch of manipulating another's minds at their wonder of how someone could fall as far as the bum they could not take their eyes off could fall to where they -- I -- were, I groped in further to their soul and stroked their desire to be generous and compassionate.  No cardboard sign with crayon scribbling, no verbal plea, not a single visual beg ... and yet they gave to me, that young couple, and not just a couple dollars but all their cash and a check for everything in their bank.  No true conversation, they gave and wandered off, and I rewarded their compliance with a "golden feeling" that would last the rest of their day.

I had no real material aspirations, never had.  Acquisition of things -- of inanimate objects of any sort -- have long lost their interest for me.  What I longed to acquire, but could never bring myself to truly even try before discovering my abilities was quite animate.  Beings, people, especially humans.  Innocent children?  Pah!  We teach them to be evil and greedy from a baby, to grab things in stores and to satiate their greed.

Bimbo blondes had no appeal to me, easy sluts or those already nymophomanic.  Nah, I desired to use my powers, and to make them as twisted as possible, I wanted anyone and everyone I who did not offer themselves so sluttily without my powers.  In that sense, that I needed to alter every human to satiate sexual lust on my part ... every single one was non-consensual.

Me being the angry atheist, a former Christian, did among strangers single out the religious to be my real first victims to take on that level.  Easy enough for a bum to get among, of course ... the Mission shelters I long abandoned for the abuse I'd get when their promises of being welcome to all who need them rang untrue.  A handsome, well-groomed priest dressed in very fine clothes, his wife and children in the front pew and a few aides there for the thrice-daily required sermon all guests in the shelter were required to attend.

Yeah, thrice daily ... you see, they promise to help one get back one's feet, but given they require you to attend three sermons every day, that's not quite achievable.  Seven a.m., one p.m., six p.m. ... what sort of work could you find if you had to return "home" at each of these hours to attend a sermon?  But I digress, I had long since gone through and thrown away going through that; I only put myself through it again to strike at that target I desired to conquer the most.

I never had confidence in myself, but I had sharpened my abilities to the point I felt certain I could do it and get away with it.  To get there, though, I did something I refused to do to keep myself in a shelter, though -- I lied.  When asked and pressed if I'd found Jesus ... oh yeah, I found him.  Bullshit, of course!  But so I pretended and put on the best act I had ever given.  At the conclusion of the sermon, the other visitors at the shelter made their way down to the kitchen for their hot meal.  I remained, standing from the final "Rise up and praise Him!" finale, casting a teary gaze at the priest as he replaced his bookmark in his holy book and began packing his things.  It took a few moments for him to notice there was a guest still in the pews who had not made their way to eat the dinner.

"Bless you son, you will soon have peace with Him," he warmly remarked in thanks for my energetic contributions to the evening's sermon.

"Praise the Lord for that, Father ... and Praise to you for so selflessly, tirelessly rowing your dingy in a dark maelstrom and grasping out into the seas of destitution to pull us lost souls into your boat, to row us ashore where you could show us Jesus!"

At this point, I had not truly manipulated them with any special skill, merely groped their minds, what you might call merely reading their feelings and a bit of their thoughts to help guide my silver-tongued words to tickle them.  I could feel the uncertainty ease among each, and joyous energy most especially from the son, I would guess to be seven, and daughter whom I would guess to be twelve.  Despite the words, you see, they fear us bums as much as anyone does, but it gives them a good feeling to truly believe they were helping us, even as their rules were even a bit consciously set up to keep the indigent flock stuck with them.  This time, with me, it would be different.  I began to probe beyond reading, and gave the slightest of nudges ...

"You are well on your way, son, to return to His graces.  He does not judge you for what nor who you are, and for your love for Him, ye shall be saved!"

"Oh bless you, Father, but ... I dare say ... I can use all Your help to bring me to His graces.  I, you see, am quite a sinner and while I have found Jesus, I need you to help make certain it is not a false Jesus and that I am on the righteous path and stay that way!"

The words and the touch probed into his soul, his aura, his emotions and his thoughts.

He looked to his wife, looked to his children, they each looked at each other, their smiles growing, and they looked at me.  The priest reached out to me with his arm and said, "We are but His servants, my son, and I shall be glad to provide all that you need.  Join my family at our table, in our home ... enjoy what we have."

I gave a mockingly-gracious "Ahh, bless you!" as I finally gave a gaze to the wife and children.  I did not fear as I allowed my eyes to drift to each of their crotches, did not fear their notice, for the verbal romantic enticement playing to their beloved idolitry made the manipulation of their self-protections much easier.  "We shall dine you the finest we have, share with you all the Lord's bounty he has blessed us with!"

Ah but if only you knew, the fruits your creator endowed you with shall soon, indeed, be mine -- but they are not the fancy foods and drinks of your home but the guarded fruits of your sexualities!

I rode in the back of their Hummer, sitting in the middle between the son and daughter.  The daughter looked at me, took my hand in hers, and said, "Bless you Sir, the Lord will provide for you quite soon!"  With that, she raised her hand grasped with mind in a praise-the-Lord sort of gesture.  I smiled and giggled a bit, allowing the flow of the idolitry worship to continue, making this family ever easier to manipulate.

Not to be outdone, the young son took my other hand in his in a similar gesture and glancing back into the rear-view mirror, the wife in the front passenger seat smiled and grasped the left hand of her husband behind her to duplicate the gesture between them.

They did not maintain it, of course, for being "good people" they were safety-minded, and the husband returned his hand to himself after a few minutes to continue driving.  The children, too, relaxed their raise of my hand, allowing each of my hands to settle, and strategically I yes, settled them on their fancy-clothed thighs.  Nothing but warm smiles from each and smiling-and-touched wife in the front passenger's seat.  Soon, quite soon ...

A Hummer, a ride to their fancy home ... I pondered, for a few moments, getting acquisition of their material durables, but I quickly doused such thoughts as I realized I had no taste for them.  Oh, I would acquire a house and a car -- but they would be simple.  This luxury style living is not what I wanted in life, as I said before -- what I wished to acquire were not inanimate things.  They led me into their home as the clock neared half past seven p.m.  Besides, I hated Hummers ... being the bum I am, I am quite liberal and fond of environmentalism.  In fact, the rather stereotypical disregard for the environment helped forge additions to my devious plans for the family.

"Wash up for dinner, children," the wife ordered as she made her way to the kitchen.

"Please, make yourself at home ... err, I didn't quite catch your name, gentle soul?" the minister asked, indicating to their plush furniture.

"You may call me Master, father," I remarked in the most serious push yet into the conscious thoughts of the family.  Not just him, of course -- the children and wife, too, needed to bow to this.

"Yes, Master, welcome, Master," the father smiled as the wife and children disappeared toward their immediate destinations.

"I thank you, but I am unclean," I remarked.  "Perhaps I should wash up, with your children?"

"As you wish, Master," he bowed graciously.

It was quite tempting to fully bathe with the children, I felt quite certain I could ... but I was playing to my lust, and my lust wished to be teased in a certain way, so for the moment I truly did just scrub my grimy hands and unkempt bearded face.  Granted, I did so from behind the young son, my clothed erection pressed into the seat of his finely threaded ass, but that's how it stayed.  I helped the children with their hand-scrubbing, stroking each of their arms and their faces in the process.  Just some ... affection ... for now. ;)

This soon accomplished, I and the children dried, and we returned back out to await supper.  All the while, I deepend my grasp -- but it was not yet time to fully pull them, for my lusty desires wished to take their control a piece at a time.

The wife labored as I sat with the husband and their children on the sofa in front of their television, tuned of course to a religious channel.  That quickly became my next target, and with a twisting of the husband's thoughts -- and of course I had to follow with the children and though she was in the other room, the wife, to accept it -- I played with him without so much as a word nor even having to stare at him directly.  He grasped the remote control and turned their high-definition satellite sixty-inch television to one of those 900-channels, then tapped in the parental lock control release code and there, before his children, was a dripping blonde gasping from a gangbang.

It was rather boring to me, as such porn doesn't interest me ... worse than the worst Hollywood ham was the "best" porn star, and as I mentioned easy sluts don't tickle my fancy -- it interested me to push -this- with -them-.  You can feel that welling of jealousy toward me already, can't you?  You would love to push some conservative prick to do this with his family watching!

I wrapped my arm around the daughter, her smiling gaze fixed on the screen.  "Has that lady found Jesus?" I asked her with a giggle.

"Ohhh ... yesss, Master!" the daughter replied in a near perfect chorus with a staged fake cheezy orgasm from the getting-gang-banged bimbo on the screen.

However evil you think of me, do not think me a liar and believe me when I tell you, that very moment was not planned by me ... as I said, such porno doesn't interest me and I certainly don't have its oh so memorable plot and script memorized, but nonetheless, there it was, and I laughed as -- knowing the intricacies of the Ability, as I do, the reason this porn on the t.v. was accepted by this religious family because I had, effectively, changed their worship of their religious idols they believed in onto God.  Effectively, from their perspective, they were watching and listening to a televangelist they liked.  It was just amusing to me that the daughter could confirm to me that addiction to religion was much like the religion to sex -- except sexual pleasure and creation are real but there is no god, but I digress, I don't care to enflame that ire of yours.

I closely watched and sensed them observing the porno, no need to manipulate further.  Their reaction to it was much more to my entertainment -- and in a fashion, to further my Ability, my self-discovery -- than the ridiculous crap actually playing on the t.v.  I lifted my gazes from them, for a moment, as I pondered my boredom with the porno itself, to gaze about their living room ... ah, yes, a nice, expensive and high-definition digital video camera sitting in a cabinet behind glass doors.

I did not bother to grasp his hand, and went instead to grasp the priest's crotch -- yeah, of course he was hard, he gets hard from actual religious sermons instead of this perceived religious show on the t.v..  "You are so kind to invite me into your home, father," I remarked, "could I beg a favor that might seem a little ... weird?"

He turned to me, my hand still groping his arousal, and asked.  "What would that be, Master?"

"Well," I answered, "its just that ... I've tried to hide away from the Lord for far too long, and ... I have sinned so much ... my mind is not what it once was that the Lord blessed me with when I was born, and ... I would not like to forget this night.  Could I beg of you that I might capture and take with me a memory of the feast you are so graciously sharing, by using your camera to record it all?"

"But of course, Master, I am happy to oblige."

Ohh, yeah.  Time to make a porno of my own, haha!  I manipulated my grope into a good stroking of his cock through his expensive trousers.

"Five minutes!" announced the wife.  The supper did indeed smell quite good.

"Set the table, children!" ordered the father and he rose, sliding out of my grasp as he powered off the television.  I had worked him to such an arousal that truly, I must say, he had quite the pitched tent.

"Yes, papa!" they politely replied.

And they did so ... five sets, five places, fine china and crystal and silver all around.  The set was staged!

I setup the camera, making certain it had a good view of the dinner table; the image quality was outstanding.  Priests of shelters do quite well, but I digress again.  Maybe not studio camera quality, but ... truly, the possibilties for storytelling were less and less in the hands of hollywood media giant controls.

The husband bowed to me and disappeared down stairs to a cellar, returning not a minute later with a dusty bottle of wine.

Now mind you, I actually hate wine, hate alcohol -- but for tonight, I wished to swallow my distaste and indulge every luxury of their home, but probably not what you are thinking.  Nah, I won't be getting the kids drunk -- fun as that might seem, not my aim.  My plans were far more devious!

Before pouring a single bit for himself, he asked if I would care for a glass.  "Why yes, Father."  And so he graciously did, then moved to where his wife would sit where another wine glass was, and I raised my hand dismissively.  "Nah, that's okay."  And with no hesitation or question, he did not pour a glass of wine for his wife.  When he moved to his seat to pour himself a glass, I repeated ... and his wine glass remained empty.

The priest sat the bottle down and gave an relaxed sigh.  "This shall be splendid."

"Indeed!" I remarked.  "I have much to learn from you of the Lord, and your family shall learn from me to conserve the Lord's creation, mother Earth, and to take care of her."

"Oh, blessings abounty, Master!" chimed the father as he headed toward his wife in the kitchen.  I heard the refrigerator door open, and appear with a jug of apple juice.  He went to his childrens' settings first, but I waved my hand dismissively.  "That's okay, father, just a glass for me, and you and your family shall receive the rest from me."

No question, no curious stare, no hesitation ... he filled my other glass with the juice, then returned the juice to the refrigerator.

"It's ready!" called the wife, pulling a dish from the oven.  She brought it out, not seeming to notice nor care that all the glasses at the table except mine remained empty as she set it down and tweaked a couple of the empty settings here or there.

"Ah, lasagna!" I smiled.  "How divine!"

"I am pleased you are pleased, Master!" the wife bowed.

"Well, everyone," declared the father, "let us ask the Lord's blessing and enjoy this bounty your beloved Mother has worked so hard to prepare for us."

"I, uh ..." I started, then remanded myself mentally for having the slightest lack of confidence now, "Could I ask the blessing?  To show my appreciation to the Lord and the graciousness of your sweet family?" I asked.

"I would be honored, Master!" the priest declared.

The wife and husband sat at the far end and bowed their heads; the children sat on either side of me.  A simple maniupation, and instead of grasping each others' hands, they groped and held each others' crotches; this wound up with two hands on each crotch, one from the left and another from the right ... I ensured my hands on the childrens' crotches were the hands underneath those of the father over his daughter and the wife over her son.  I allowed the son's hand to naturally be the one underneath the daughter's on my own crotch.

"Praise be to Penis," I began, "For He provides much bounty for us.  Praise be to Vagina," I continued, "For She sacrifices much for the world.  Amen."

Tearfully, the family chorused, "Amen."

"Gosh," the daughter declared as the hand-in-crotch unity broke.  "Master, that was ... that was ..."

"... breathtakingly marvelous," the wife finished.  "I ... I wish I could have heard such a fine prayer in this household long ago!"

I served myself a good heaping of the lasagna.  "A fine meal, my lady," I declared.  As the wife reached to serve herself, I again dismissively shook my hand.  "Ye shall enjoy my lesson on conservation," I declared.

And so supper was served ... a good slosh of wine, a glass of juice, and a heap of food on my plate, and four glimmering, well-set empty settings before a handsome young boy, a darling sexy young girl, a smiling and gracious lovely wife and her priestly husband.  They each sat silently as I gobbled down the darned good cookin'.  I hadn't been exactly starving, of course -- since having learned to stroke a sense of charity, I dined at I pleased, but it was not quite the same as a home-cooked meal.

I finished the wine, the juice and the meal, and wiped my face with a napkin.

"Ahhh ..." I remarked.  "Now, who is ready for a lesson on recycling water?  Is anyone thirsty?"

"Oh, I am!" smiled the wife.

"Me, me!" cried the son.

"I am too, Master," politely declared the daughter.

"And I too thirst for both drink and such a lesson," remarked the priest.

Oh yeah, now the real fun begins ...

I stood and walked over to the wife, putting my crotch to near the table.  "Now to start, just fine my stem from which a warm recycled drink shall pour.

The husband and children watched intently as, nudging each of their minds just a bit here or there, the wife groped around my crotch, unzipped my fly and pulled out my cock.

"Children," I declared, "come closer, you most of all should learn how, so you will know what to do when I serve you next."

The wife looked frustrated.  "Okay ... now what do I do, Master?"

"Well, bring your glass to the spigot, silly!" I returned.

With a silly laugh, the wife brought her wine glass toward my cock.

"Now," I continued, "make sure the lord's wine does not spill."  With that, I filled her glass ... very full, I might add, though of course my bladder was far from drained.  "There, easy now!"

The slightest of drips held at the end of my cock.  The son noticed it first, and moved in quickly, licking it.

"MICHAEL ANDREWS SMITH!" shrieked the wife, bumping the her glass and sloshing the 'wine' onto the table a bit.  "Mind your manners!"  She looked to me with a shameful look in her eyes.  "I apologize severely, Master, we have had some trouble teaching our beloved son patience."

I nodded.  "Quite alright, dear, he shall learn soon enough to feel blessed for what he has and to not grasp for fruits that are not his.  Now ... now that your glass is full of the lord's wine, clean and return the spigot."

Without further word, the wife -- with husband, daughter and son each watching closely -- began licking at the tip of my cock, further back along the shaft, then finally took my whole member in, coating it thoroughly with her slobber.

Loaded with recycled wine and juice as I was, it wasn't really arousing and I remained flaccid.  A good thing too, for I had three more thirsty glasses to fill, and its rather hard to do that while ... well, hard!

The wife grasped and returned my cock into my pants and re-zipped my fly.

"Good job," I commended her.

"Thank you, Master," she replied, breathing a bit hard and shallow, almost like panting.  Ahh!  The lasting desire effect I had been kneading into their minds was already taking effect -- a bit earlier than I expected, not necessarily a bad thing.  She was still a bit upset from having to reprimand her son, and reached for her spilt glass to lift it to her lips.

"Ah ah ah!" I said.  "You will wait for your whole family to be served, won't you?"

"Oh!" she cried.  "My manners, Master!  Please forgive me!"

I shook my head.  "I am but your humble guest, ma'am.  I guess the Lord might be better appeased by your sin, though, if you were to present yourself more in a manner He created you?"

I intentionally held back fully translating the meaning, to let the words themselves linger and process with the wife in the state I had altered her in.

She nodded her agreement as she figured it out on her own, standing, unbuttoning her blouse, removing it and the remainder of her clothes, then returning to her seat before her family, fully nude.

Truly, I thought I might grow more of a taste for a young adult woman, but ... really, I was disappointed.  The only real gratification I got was that she was naked before her family.  I mean, there was nothing physically wrong or anysuch about her, she just ... bored me with her sight.  She could well have been a much lusted-after movie star and really, my reaction would have been the same.

Onto the son ... I moved to put my crotch by his setting.

"Now, boy, take out the spigot as you saw your mother do," I said.

He was a bit red-faced from the reprimand he received, but he brightened a bit as he did so.  Now ... ohhh ... there.  Well, damn me ... the slightest touch of the boy's young, soft hands and watching him there, in the broad light under the dining room chandelier, a seven year old boy's hands touched my cock.  "Ohhh ..." I remarked.  I had well learned to manipulate others, several at a time, but ... manipulating myself was far more difficult, and as much as I wanted to repress myself, I could not with this boy's touch.

I rather hate to leave a scene hanging, but I am who I am, and must comment at a moment like this.  Sex, really good sex, is quite magical on its own.  I'd had a couple moments in my life before this time when I had good sex ... the sort of sex where time and the world outside of myself and my partner just disappeared.  Truly, I had made love before the sun had set, and when the dance of bodies had ended, I was surprised to notice it had risen the next day.  Where had the time gone!?

Just the tiniest sliver of that magic struck me then with this boy whose name I only had just learned from his mother's reprimand and his touch I commanded.

"Oh God ..." I could not help myself.  Dammit, I had wanted to stay flaccid to 'serve' him, his sister and finally their father in the same manner -- but as difficult as I always was to arouse, this boy's touch defeated those plans as my 'spigot' rose to full attention.

With the manipulations in place and already taking a life of their own, the daughter cried an excited 'Ohhh!' at the sight.

"Ummm ... what ... what happened?" the boy asked, trying to bend my boner to get it to his glass.  "I can't quite get it to work right!"

"I'm sorry, son ... sometimes this happens ... when someone has a rather good spirit," I remarked and smiled weakly at him as I tried to fight it.  "You might just have to take from the spigot, its almost impossible not to spill trying to make it to a glass like this," I told him, stroking the back of his head as I did.

"Uhh ... so I just go like this?" he asked, putting his small, smooth, moist and warm lips to my tip and taking what he could into his precious little mouth in.

"Uhhh ..." I cried, my legs starting to shake a bit.  If you think mind control means you control everything, buster ... well ... doesn't always!  It took every bit of control to keep my already very stiff arousal from going further, and the arousal already made it difficult to give the boy the wine he deserved so richly.

"Hey, no fair!" cried the wife, stroking her glass thirstily.

"He's just a boy, for crying out loud," I snapped back at her even as the boy gulped down my irregular stream I really had to force out through my arousal.

"I ... am sorry, Master," she submitted reluctantly.

I was so ... rather distracted ... that with the son's persistent nursing, though I somehow managed to further my arousal, my mind was overstretched, mostly by that magical feeling from this most forbidden of intimacies, that my bladder fully drained down his throat.  The best laid plans ... now what?  I still had a daughter and a husband to go, and I was all out!

"Good ..." I declared, starting to lose control over the arousal and needing to withdraw rather quickly to salvage any sort of plot.  "uhh ... don't be greedy, son, you've already taken it all ..."

"WHAT!?" shrieked the daughter.  "NOOOOOO!" she cried.

The husband, for his part, being the 'noble provider,' merely sighed.  "Please," he pleaded, "my daughter must be served, Master.  Spare me if you must, but please ... not my lovely daughter!"

Finally, the son finished and returned my boner -- as best he could -- to the confines of my pants.  The tent was impossible to hide -- of course, at this stage, that wasn't really necessary.

"Do not worry, I have a bit of milk for the lass," I smiled.  "But tell me," I said, to the father, "You truly find your daughter lovely?"

"Oh, yes, of course, Master!" he declared.  "She is gorgeous, isn't she?"

"Oh, I'm not disagreeing that I would describe her as the same, I would just like to know how much and deeply a father can love a daughter," I said as I walked over to her.

She seemed nervous and excited with anticipation, her hands shaking a bit as she unzipped my fly as she had seen her mother, now nude, and brother, now sated, had done before her.  She had to work a bit to get my stiffy out, though.

"Words defy such a description, Master."

I made ever so slight of a few more tweaks to his mind, invoking something a little similar to dyslexia that would ... well, just watch.  If he thought he was struggling for words, the manipulation would make him stumble and get dragged around by words ...

"Do you love her enough to allow her to be free?"

"Of course, Master!"

"Do you love her enough to watch her make love before you?"

"Of course, Master!"

"Do you love her enough to show your love for her, by making love with her?"

"Uhhh ..." he gasped at the thought.  "I would so love ..." he stammered.  "... to show my love ..." ... breathing hard ...  "... by making love ... with my daughter!"  He was breaking down physically and emotionally at this point, his mind filling itself with thoughts.  That's part of the real beauty ... and here I take another aside.

See, I could be in some two-bit sci fi instead of this mind control fantasy.  Truly I could envision "fem-bots" (or for me and my bisexual tastes, "men-bots" too! :P) truly realistic in the softness and tenderness of their flesh, realistic odor to their breaths and behinds, duplicates in every last synthetic detail ... but they just wouldn't have these emotions, this life of their own.  Yes, I am a real puppet master, pulling a lot of strings, but while they could not restore their "morality sensibilities" and restraints, their minds and emotions and spirits were still very much intact and acting and reacting on their own where I did not so tightly control them.

Anyhoo, sorry to interrupt your lust, now back to the whack ...

The father struggled to his feet, out of his own -- and my -- control.  The mere thoughts that had colluded, images and fantasies and the crippling I'd done to the very artificially constructed restraints no longer contained them.  He did not go to his daughter and fuck her then and there, no, he could not make it that far -- the thought and fantasy were overtaking him, really -- again, not to poke too much at you Christians among my readers -- the way those nuts on the televangelist shows "feel the spirit" and really start screaming.  But instead of screaming for the lord and feeling power to make them jump and shake, this was a very sexual urge and, well, it took mere moments with the mere fantasy swirling in his mind for this conservative father's unleashed feelings of lust for his daughter to explode rather literally in his expensive church trousers.

"ohh god!" he cried weakly, a dark spot emerging.

"Oh dear me!" gasped the wife.  "I ... wow ..." she shuddered.  "My beloved husband, you ... you love our daughter ... I knew that ... I did not realize ... praise the Lord, am I a lucky woman, blessed to have a husband who loves our daughter so!"

"... please ..." the husband babbled, falling to his knees, his semen oozing through his rather expensive threads.

The daughter fixed her gaze, almost crying.  "That ... that is what love looks like?" she asked, she too getting caught up in the emotion not entirely under my control.

All the moral sensibility rules broken down, my lusty plans for domination I began to shelve.  This was my first time using my mind control for sex, you see, so all the sex I had previously is what you might call more normal ... I had been me, the world had been the world, reality had been reality, and in that, my lovemaking had been what I felt was the very definition:  no books, no guides, no pre-plotted schemes, just a very intimate, unchoreographed dance that went where it would, and ... I think perhaps because of the unexpected sensation I got from that handsome young to-be-stud, I hung my plans and decided to go a bit more where the flow was going on its own.  Its not all bad, of course, and -- with later experiences -- I'd follow more to plan, but in a sense this was a second "first time" for me!

Her focus on her father had distracted her from her task on me, but I let that happen and decided to draw her back with more conscious means.

"Yes, sweetheart, that is your father's love for you, right there.  Ever since you were born, he has loved you so, but ... his love for Jesus was above that, and he did not realize how much his Creator wished him to love you, until now.  He thought his Creator forbid such.  Now ... now he knows it is a loving blessing to bless with love!"

"... yess ..." the father gasped, truly overwrought and spent.  A shame, really, I really had plans for things to go much more slowly.  Whatever I could do to manipulate minds, even if I wanted to at this point -- it did not take much extrasensory sensing to discover how twelve years of lust for his daughter, and even more of restraint in conservative sex with his wife and his lust for every being he'd encountered, had just erupted in a single massive shot.  I actually found myself worried for his life, for while I had no telekinetic abilities to manipulate physical stuff, I knew from the massive wells and reports from the nervous system in his mind that he was very precipitously on the edge of having a heart attack.

"FUCK!" I yelled as I realized it was so.  This was very much not to plan.  Quickly, I had to work or the heart attack would come.  I hadn't quite explored quite how to do something like this, but the "autonomous" things in a mind -- breathing and heartbeating -- are as present, readable and manipulatable as emotions and thoughts, and quickly I struggled to quell the dangerous thrums and thrusts.  "Easy, father, easy ... you have much time to show your love ... not so much at once there ..."

Okay, okay, time for another aside here.  Any time you get yourself all worked up to finally just do it, to go in and gratify your lusts in a particularly sinful manner, and you wind up having the save the life of those whose will you are violating ... shit, I gotta tell you, that's a real mindfuck to yourself!  I mean yeah, me being me, these effing Christians ... and god, yeah, I know, I got Christian friends who are okay, but the priests like this -- I had checked this guy out for awhile, stalked if you will, and knew him to be one of those "homosexuals are evil" type priests -- my stupid desire for revenge wished me to wish harm on them, yet here I couldn't let one of them die because of me.  Damn, I fuck myself!

First times are always messiest, and ... like I mentioned ... this was sort of a "second first time."  Anyhow, I'm sorry to spoil the mood a bit, I suppose I could have fictioned this for you and described how everything went to plan, but ... then ... that would make it too easy to disbelieve.

The father recovered, though it took some effort.  From his knees, he fell forward to his elbows, struggling to just keep himself from fully collapsing onto the floor.

"There, there," I told him.  "You would free your daughter to get fucked by me in front of you, or get fucked by a dog ... and you would even free your daughter to penetrate and fill her with your own love.  Its a powerful, good way, man ... honey," I said, twisting my hips slightly to tap the daughter on her cheek with my erection.  "Go to your father, taste and soak in his love for you," I said.  "Be gentle, this is so much for him."

She did so, standing, and slowly walking over to her father.  Her reaction to his condition, quivering on all fours, was uncertain.  I did not spoil it with manipulation, but could feel the turmoil ... she was afraid, while she did not sense how close he was to death the way I did, she nonetheless did and was afraid.  She was also moved by the burst of love greater than any she had felt, and knowing his weak condition was because his love for her was stronger than his own body.  She knelt by him, and got on all fours by him.

"Father ... father," I called.  "You will not be able to show your daughter love if you do not relax.  Lay ... lay on your back ... and relax.  Let her find your love."

He did so, the immediate danger of a heart attack ebbed -- though not gone -- but he was still very strongly physically overwhelmed.  He laid and rolled over, onto his back, more of his semen having worked through his trousers.

His daughter crawled over, hovering with her head over his crotch.  I did not bother to go through with the "cover and re-discover" routine with my aroused cock, merely stood closeby watching.  Its rather hard to explain how I felt, other than a need to be as I was just voyeuring at this point as this night took on a life of its own.

She was shaking a bit herself and uncertain, her heart racing -- but being young and vibrant, nowhere near the heart attack level his was, so while I endeavoured to monitor everyone closely in that regard from now on, I otherwise did nothing to manipulate as she inched herself to explore this love for the first time.

The wife breathed a bit nervously herself.  WIth plans pretty much destroyed, that little noise was required to remind me I'd forgotten all about it.  "Enjoy your drink," I admonished to her, and she ever so eagerly took the glass of my urine to her lips.  As strongly as I'd compelled her to thirst for it, she merely sipped it.

Expecting it to taste exactly like the wine from the bottle, she had a look of surprise.  "Oooh!" she declared, a rather peculiar sensation overtaking her as she pondered the flavor on her lips.  She took another sip, and began to breathe heavy ... another and another and she began to pant.

Meanwhile, the daughter had summoned the courage to nervously reach a hand to her father's spent love for her, lightly brushing over the cum stain with her finger.

"Go ahead," I soothed to her.  "Its your father's love, just for you."

The father, relaxed, manage to just keep conscious with his eyes open as he watched his daughter lift a finger dipped with his cum lift it to her lips and taste it.  She breathed deeply and flushed, much as her mother just had tasting my piss from her fine crystal wine glass.

"uhh ..." the father cried, as my feeling-sense-monitor I'd maintained over his overwhelmed mind snapped me back to him again from his wife and her drink.

He was losing control over ... other things ... fortunately I managed to keep his heart from the danger zone again, but quickly a large soak from within appeared in his crotch.  He cried softly but did not move much.

"Down to the love," I whispered to the daughter, and -- quivering, a bit, excited and scared at the same time -- she lowered her head even as the soaking remained active, welling up from the stream at one particular spot before disappearing back through the threads, drenching down and soaking and pooling underneath him in the family's expensive dining room carpet.

I myself was nervous a bit, excited by everything myself even though yeah, I was the master who had control over all the puppets' strings, but I managed a further tweak -- this to the daughter's mind -- that had been a piece of the now otherwise up-in-the-air plans.

"Daddy," she breathed, beginning to shake her young, transiting-into-puberty-butt from side to side.  "daddy, your love frees me ... I feel like an unleashed dog ..." she said, shaking her butt again.  She began to pant -- at first like her mother was, but then more of a doggish pant, and before she -- or anyone except me -- knew what she was doing, she buried her face in the wet mess of piss and cum in her father's crotch, alternately rubbing the wet and slime into her face and licking it.

"Your father's love has freed you," I coaxed her, "now ... free his love for you."

With that, her hand reached and unbuckled her father's expensive leather belt, undid his zipper and pulled down his soaked trowsers.  Impatient with the time it took, she rubbed and again licked at the untouched mess under the trowsers soaked onto his skivvies.  Despite the full load, that I could sense had fully drained his balls in one shot, his cock remained at full flag and it truly showed.

"His body is empty of seed, starving, you sweet young pussy," I coaxed to her, "but so very engorged on his love for you.  Share this love before it bursts him!"

Struggling, she pulled his trowsers down his legs.

"Now," I said, turning to the father, trying my best to manipulate him to more of a coherent and cognizant state, "your love for your daughter shows.  Your love for her has freed her soul for a bit, but she is ... still bound ... by restraints.  Would you free her of those?" I asked.  I found I had to actually give a touch of my energy to him just to enable him to move his hands at this point.

"Quickly," I whispered to the daughter, "let your father free your love as you have freed his ... put your privates back where he can reach them!" I smiled.

She did so, sort of 69ing him, and the father reached up and undid her blouse as she indulged dog-like licking of his cock and surrounding belly where the bulk of the cum and piss still remained.

Soon, an unrevealing conservative blouse was cast aside, and the form of a twelve year old hottie was before me.  My arousal was well out of my control, but ... considering the newfound discoveries before me ... I could not bring myself to disturb it through thoughts of physically involving myself.  It was so very arousing just watching the father and daughter as he, still too weak to rise himself up much, wasted little time pulling down and off the girl's panties and wrapping his arm around her lower back to pull her down onto him, her netherlips to his full, thirsty, hungry ones.

I nonetheless felt a rather growingly urgent and uncontrollable need to express the seed of my love.  I scurried back around the table to the son, shaking my head at the wife ... nude, young, shapely, most every man's dream but just not to my personal taste.  No, with the daughter off limits for me for the moment as, having completed 'cleaning' her father, she was to sucking his cock and he with his tongue exploring her virginal depths, there was only one choice.  I smiled as the son watched intensely, breathing a bit on his own and excited.

"Its rather a sight, isn't it?" I asked him.  "To see your father love your sister so?"

"Yeah, Master ... I didn't ... I didn't know love could be so ... could ..."

"I /love/ you, boy," I said.

His breathing went from elevated to very heavy.  No, I wasn't manipulating the reaction!  He was reacting to reaction, the flowing love before his eyes energetic and spreading to him on his own, but nonetheless it didn't take much for my mind to read that he himself, as prepubesecent as he was, was getting aroused.  And fuck if that wasn't damning to me!  The mother's arousal to my piss, which yeah had been an orchestrated reaction, the father and the daughter in their intense 69, which was not as manipulated with just a few more barriers and distinctions taken down and that dyslexic blurring of love, and most strongly this potent colt's natural arousal as he became more aware and soaked more in around him and the newly deepened meaning of the word I just just cast at him struck him.  He was much enthralled at the scene before him, but that paled.

He gasped, turned from the scene on the other side of the table on the floor to me, standing behind him, my fly still open and my stiffy still, well, stiff, out and swinging.

"You ..." he gasped.  "You love me?"

I shook my head and trembled a bit myself ... and no that wasn't an act.  "Yes, boy ... you ... you are so ... magical ... such a spirit ... your touch ..." I gasped.

He began to cry, sobbing softly.  "I ... I didn't mean to ... I can't believe I'm so special ..."

"I really didn't realize you were either, honestly," I said.

"But ... but ... you're so much older ... and have such a hard life, I know people like you do ... how could someone as small as me ..."

"Because you are so innocent and haven't yet.  Because you are sweet and have not soured as I have, and I long to be sweet again ..." the pedantic poetry of mine flowing.  I could barely keep the safety-sense on all as my own emotion began to pour out.  The father was fluctuating as his love with his daughter was orally imbibed.  Fuck, I was supposed to be manipulating this family to avenge my hatred of their type, but here I was getting emotional!

"You ..." the boy sobbed.  "... are very sweet, I didn't even know, until you said ... you love me ... I want God and Jesus to know you love me ... I want you to show them your love for me ... I want to show them ... I love ... I love you, Master!"

The boy's emotions were running away from him ... well, at least he had the multiple excuses of being a boy, immature, and not even fully under his own control ... what the fuck were mine?  Jesus Christ!

My cock was in his face as he stood.

"Your mother filled my stomach ... would ... would you indulge me in a feast of your own?" I whispered, desperately losing control.  The wafting scent of my piss on his breath only enthralled me further ... not that I'm one to regularly drink my own, but I've enjoyed it second-hand ... but, well, that's a prequel!

"I ... I want to know how ... " he said.

"Free my love fully," I said, "as your father and sister freed each others', and as your mother freed herself into the way God made her!"

Quickly, the boy undid my belt, dropped my trowsers and boxers.  Being so young, 7, he was a bit small to reach up, so I helped him with removing my shirt.

Fully nude, my body trembling from holding so close to climax so long, I nonetheless struggled to keep a pace.

"I love you, boy ... I need so desperately to make love with you, if I might free your love?" I begged.  God ... now I gotta tell you seeing the daughter nude, and by her father's hand no less ... that was a huge fantasy and a big reason I came tonight.  Before the reality of the feeling, it was pretty much equal to my desire for the boy.  But, having had the boy's touch already, drinking down my piss as he did, and having had a sight of the daugher -- oh fuck yeah, I would be plowing her fields very enjoyably soon, don't get me wrong there, but -- the boy was proving supreme.  This moment ... I began to worry I would explode myself into a heart attack as the father nearly did, only there wouldn't be anyone to save me as I had the father ... but that thought didn't frighten me.

I had plans of course that this would only be the beginning.  But those plans, like my original plans for the night, were fucking gone, I tell you.  Then and there, my own emotions were going away with the current about me.  I had dug some channels, putting a river where none had been, but it was carrying me away with it!  And the thought of dying making love to this boy ... didn't scare me a bit.  I did not believe in God, did not believe in Jesus, but I was starting to feel a worship for this boy like a real life messiah.

"Please ... please, Master ... please let me ... love me ... free me ... love ...!" he shuddered.

The single most difficult control of the night was myself as I, nude and knelt before this seven year old boy, undid his small, tidy belt and unzipped his pants.  I pulled off his pants and dress socks, then his shirt, his undershirt, leaving only his skivvies.  I'm sure the father and daughter are one hot couple and truly they were, but they and certainly that mother sipping my piss and starting to orgasm by herself from it all faded into nothing for me, and just this boy before me and I existed in all the universe.  That small, high lump in his skivvies beckoned and yet the holding-back a moment to enjoy the sight was a turn on.  My weathered, crackled hands advanced beyond my age by my exposure from having been homeless for so long reached and touched the soft, shapely shoulders of the boy.  My hands delicately stroked down along either arm to his hands, and I took each of his hands to my own.  His bright pearly blue eyes sparkled even as they sobbed softly from so much emotion.  I removed one of my arms from grasping his hand (leaving the other to remain hand in hand) to gently cup the back of his head, and I pulled him to me, his face to mine, his skivvied crotch to my exposed arousal, and with that arm, I held him tight.  I craned my head to put my lips to his, getting a soft hint of my bitter salty piss, and suggested solely with pressure from his lips that I wished him to part his, and he complied ... and in I slipped my tongue.

He mmmped and uhhhed in pleasure, and what miniscule awareness I kept on my telepathic taps on his senses tingled from his own growing arousal, but ... the time for the kiss to end had not come, it had only begun.

I sensed his mind sensing my touch, my tongue.  It was of course very new to him, but the barriers and inhibitions even he had built up and gotten used to and relied upon I had wiped out.  I had not done anything to manipulate him to enjoy a grown man french kissing or proposing sex to him ... really, I did very little of that at all to any of them, but merely took away their "moral value," their inhibitions and their disciplined sense of "eww" and disgust to such things that are not truly natural to be repulsed at -- and hell there's a good story 'nother prequel from earlier in my life on how I found what was and wasn't natural.  The enjoyability of the piss was very much the same, that's yet another programmed inhibition we create a disgust toward.  Tasting my flavor deep within him was enthralling, mixed with what remained of the boy's innocent flavor.

But it was nonetheless, with inhibitions gone, new to him.  Christian morals would not inhibit him.  Rules about "don't do such things" no longer inhibited him.  Just raw, natural exploration of physical love, unrestrained by such things.  That, you see, is the means of the vast majority of my evil power -- the only "crimes against nature" are the falsehoods and inhibitions we put up!  The laws of nature and the laws of man are vastly, vastly different value sets.  In nature, pleasure is pleasure, love is love ... and at no point in my life had I ever felt more pleasure or love than in the embrace of this boy.

Finally, I pulled back.  I could hardly believe I restrained myself this far, but I knew I could not.  Any moment, I would explode.  I could barely speak, I was breathing so hard.  "Up, lay on the table," I gasped, groping around blindly to knock off dishes and plates.

He struggled to hop up onto the table and, finally, the last inhibition my hands did unleash.  His small, fine, uncircumcised cock was but a few inches long, but every inch of it was at full attention, just above his dainty marbles in their sack.  I was very rapidly losing control her, marvelling at them ... there they were, the innocent tools of love for this young stud.  I struggled to stave off choking on the flow of emotion.  "Swing around, the other way," I pleaded, gasping, my cock at its maximum and already beginning to ooze precum.  "Please, boy ... I can't hold my love but a few more moments!" I cried.

The boy did his best to swing around quickly, his head now to me.  I could not finish just ramming my cock into his little mouth ... no, for as short as I knew this boy, I fucking had love for him so deep that made no sense at all!

My tip slipped between his tips as I leaned forward over the table, going down quickly to take his young love tools into my own mouth.  I had hoped the moment to last longer, but I was already overextended and the moment my lips encompassed that small, stiff member, my testicles failed their restraint and the boy choked on a hot load.  I am no hung, overly capacious stud mind you, but -- while the time since the very last time I had made love was long -- it still did not fully explain the volume.  I could actually feel it leaking out the boy's mouth, and it wasn't because he was angled wrong or down.  My climax, as final as it was -- and I knew, as my bladder had given every last bit of their bounty unto this boy, so too my testicles had already in such a short if potent burst -- was not over.  No.

Fucking dammit, I had this whole plan just to sate my lust, but that was not enough ... I needed the boy's love back.

I added a new twist, one you might think of as a mirror or reflection, channeling the orgasm I just had back to the boy.  It was not strong enough to immediately bring him to orgasm -- no, I wanted to earn that a bit more -- but, well, I can only describe it as intensifying the electricity between us.  Conversely, it also allowed me to feel what my lips and tongue were working on the boy, and that was more the desired effect.  No "Am I doing it right?"  I immediately sensed, a little more this way, a little more that.  My tongue, my mouth worked better than any over could, as well as one could do doing it to onesself, amplified by the it-isn't-onesself-doing it ... don't worry if you don't quite get that, suffice it to say the boy was getting the most pleasurable lovemaking than anyone in history could possibly have had before, myself included.

The sweet charm of this being before me was his youth, of course, but being seven ... his small marbles were just not physically capable of producing sperm yet.  As much as I had long lusted since setting foot in that church and seeing him, I knew that, but that I would still take joy in getting him off nonetheless, and while he impressively outlasted both myself and his father's "waking wet dream" fantasy of his sister, his body convulsed and his cock puffed ... and I hadn't expected it, but there was some slimy fluid I could feel and taste.

The boy pulled his mouth from my cock, crying in spurts of sheer pleasure before collapsing in that post-gasm fall.  He began to sob, and my tap on his emotions sensed it was actual sadness.  This put me into an immediate panic, unfortunately shattering that magical him-and-me-and-nothing-else moment.

"Wh ... whwhwat?" I stammered.  FUCK, I was TOTALLY losing it in my own show here!  "Why ... why ... why are you crying?" I cried, my own mood becoming ill with the thought something I had done had made the boy sad.

"I ... I felt it go ... but ... I didn't give you my love ... I so feel love for you ... but it didn't ... I didn't ..."

I tell you, I fucking smacked myself mentally.  Quickly I pulled myself off of him, a long string of cum stretching before finally breaking from my cock into his lips.

"No no no, that's not your fault," I assured him, grasping his head and holding him close.  "I've made love before, and ... well ... its just your youth.  Your body won't let you give what I gave ..." I gasped.  I must admit to fuck I wish it could, I so badly wanted to taste him ... ummm ... "But it can share that drink I shared with you earlier," I said.  "Would you bless me with yours?" I asked him.  Oh man, oh man ... thank fuck my own mind's inhibitions had gone long ago.  Really, what dignity or inhibitions can you keep when you've spent more than a decade eating spoilt rubbish?

"Re .. really?" he asked, his sobbing coming to an ebb.  "Would ... would you like me to?"

I cried and let him see my tears.  "Boy, I pray you consider me worthy to.  Please, boy ... please ... share your drink with me!"

He squealed slightly at the thought of a way to show love with me, my leaked semen shining from his cheek.  "You ... your love ... I so ... loved your love ..." he gasped, sitting up and facing me.

"I badly thirst for your love, boy," I said as I put my head down in his lap to his spent, flacciding cock.  I tightly encompassed his cock with my lips as he seemed to prepare himself, again going a place he had never gone.  He tried figuring out what to do with everything before finally wrapping his small, precious arms around my head.

"Nnnh ... " he squeaked as I could feel him pushing from within.

A splash of sweet bitter saltiness.  Oh, God ... maybe there is a fucking God ... and he does make it rain ... I think I've hinted I've had some dirty moments in my life, and while I had never before used mind control, I had enjoyed watersports with partners in the past ... but ... fucking god.  Smoother than a milkshake, sweeter than honey ... I had never tasted anything like this boy's piss.  Damn the modern world's take on man-boy love.  If I had the slightest hint a young boy's piss could taste like this ... hell, I wouldn't have waited for mind control, I would have done it and gotten my balls fried in sex predator prison for it just for a single taste!

Warm, innocent, sweet.  Ohhh ... fuck ... part of my plan for the night would be to teach this family 'recycling' by being the only one to drink anything but piss, and to pass that recycled juice, wine, water or anything on ... but here I was drinking it back.  Fuck well, plans to hell!

I tapped the boy, though.  This wasn't /entirely/ fair, as satiated as I was getting.  He ceased his flow, and I couldn't help but satiate my lips of it.  My awareness was back of everything else, though marginally -- and of course this newest pleasure the boy had given me had started to dim my peripheral awareness again.

He looked me in the eyes, uncertain.

"Gods, boy ... your love ... I've never tasted anything so sweet," I said, licking my lips.  He smiled and giggled, pleased to have pleased.  "I ... need some private time for you, but ... it isn't fair to your family for the moment.  I mean, your dad is dying of thirst.  Come, let's go help them ... mom, over there, you too."

I grasped the boy lightly by his limp, dripping cock, and guided his hand to grasp my balls as we walked around the table.  The mother looked at us, looking almost drunk from my piss, most definitely flushed having apparantly fully orgasmed while I was fully satiated draining my balls into her son ... I guess a combination of that magic and my lack of interest caused me to miss the actual moment of her orgasm, not that it was of significant interest to me to witness anyhoo, though I had planned for the family to very much witness, focus and share a bit on each others' orgasms -- again, all my lustful plans were out the window, and things were going by the seat of my ... well, not wearing those anymore!

Dad was again quivering, nearing another heart attack.  I sighed.  "I guess ... you've just held back your love too long, Father," I said, shaking my head.

I slipped a finger under his tongue penetrating his daughter, so my finger cohabitated her pussy along with his tongue, but giving it a pointier focus of a stroke as a lusty, inhibition-free tap on the shoulder to the girl.

"Your dad is ill with so much love for you, girl.  He's really seriously weakened by it.  He needs some ... replenishment!" I told her.

She gasped a bit strongly at my alternative to a tap on the shoulder, her back arching as she continued to work on her father's uselessly limp, long drained cock.

I couldn't help but gaze ... not only was it flaccid and shrivelled by then, almost like he'd just had a cold shower, but his balls were, too.  I rather had hots for him more than his wife, though certainly not as much as his daughter and of course, as I think is clear to you now, his son had quickly become my number one adoration of the family.

"How ... how can I?" she pleaded, lifting her head from her father's spent tools.  "I need to know daddy's love some more, that was ... so much ... but I just can't seem to get more from his spigot!"

I rubbed the inside of her pussy some more.  The father's tongue hogged the clit, but I at least got a little piece ... I still had plans to hog that pussy to myself sooner or later, but I'd need a lot more recovery myself to replenish from what that fucking colt had taken from me and my heart already!

"You may not have a spigot from between your own legs, you fine young pussy, but you have a sprinkler.  Your dad hasn't been able to drink at all.  I know you only got some licks of what he spilt too early realizing how much he could love you, and I'll fix that in a moment, but ... for now, your dad is the worst off.  He needs your piss to help quench his thirst and save his life."

It should never happen when every lustful moment of the night was supposed to be yours to plan, and even worse to me as I had open relationships and had never felt such before, but as that new thought came out of my mind, I felt jealousy.  I wished very much to be the first to taste the daughter's piss as well, but I did feel guilty for the father's condition.  I wondered if hers was as sweet as her brother's, if it was puberty that made piss taste pretty much as it did afterward -- taking some used to and even then being so bitter that at the wrong time or a bit too much can really have consequences -- and I guessed I would soon find out.

That smacked of another twinge on my plans ... this was to be a one-night stand with this family, but to find such a thing out, with this twelve-year old girl in particular, he'd have to come back and revisit.

"Oh ..." she said.  She rubbed her hands on her dadd's chest beneath her, and sat up a bit more with her father's tongue not ceasing its work to her pussy.  "I ... love you daddy ... please ... take what I have ..." she shuddered, and I could feel her push.

I felt ever so guilty for lingering my finger to get a soak of the initial spray.  Her father not making such a tight seal with his lips on his daughter's pussy, it was a lot messier than the drink I gave and the drink I took from her brother whose cock I still enjoyed the feel of in my hand (and likewise his hand still on my balls, which he absently explored in a very enjoyable gentle fondle), my other hand with fingers having enjoyed the feel of her nectar now bringing the taste to my lips.  A bit more tart, a bit more bitter than her brother's, but quite enjoyable and something he regretted surrendering to the moment to her father.

"Mother, you have duty to your daughter.  Since you've gotten to enjoy so much of my fine wine, you should share what I recycled to you by recycling to your daughter.  You do love your daughter too, as your husband does, as you obviously had with your husband?"

The mother looked at me, looked at her daughter still giving a good spray of her sweet young piss onto her husband's face he was struggling to gurgle down, so weak.

She looked and thought.  I did not manipulate her mind further, so this was earnest.  A bit to my surprise, she shook her head.  "No," she said.

"You don't love her as much?"

"No, Master," the wife repeated.  "I don't love her as much as my husband.  I love her more.  Much, much more," she breathed, starting to look flushed again.

Whoah!  Okay, awesome.  I actually turned off my telepathic taps on her, so I could get some fun in the reveal of her unleashed perversion truths.

"How's that?"

"I ... I married John ..." ... she said ... "because he was an honest, decent man.  I felt ... like I was supposed to love him ... and really ... he is a good man ... but ... he's not blood.  I really love my blood.  I ... I can feel their love, John and Susie's ... its so ... powerful ... much more than John and I had with each other.  I felt but subdued that so much before, why did I?  I felt it with my dad, my mom, my brother ... but ... something held us back from each other!  And ... I feel it ... to Susie ... and Michael."

Ohhhh ... man.  There were a lot of things I could explore before, the natural stuff I mentioned ... before I learned mind control to adjust people this way.  For rather obvious reasons, pedophilia and incest were not among them.  I know the nature and detail of the strings I have pulled on this family.  I know that, however you might think they are not who they were because of the seeming insanity of such a family being seemingly mindless zombie sex slaves ... but while yes, I manipulated them, took away their inhibitions and their distinctions between love they restricted to being appropriate between a man and his wife in a bedroom to apply more universally, it didn't make them really.  Well, okay, I added a bit of the wife to adore my piss, not that she wouldn't necessarily enjoy it on her own, I just ... well ... that was the start of my plans now abandoned.  This was entirely her, just without those inhibitions.  Got it?

"You've spent your whole life abiding by fundamentalism?" I asked.

"Yes, master ... and now I see ... you have righteously freed us from that.  Nature's way is God's way.  Our church ... we put it before God ... and in so doing ... we violated God!  Thou shalt not put any others before me ... but we put church and stayed in church to keep us out of our natural ways."  She shook her head, eyeing her son.  She knelt before him, and I unleashed my wonderful touch of his cock as she reached out to feel and fondle.  It remained limped and spent, but she nonetheless held it.  "Michael," she said pleading.  "I love you and wish to fuck with you.  I wish my next child -- your next sibling -- to be sired by you.  From now until the end of time, I will bear children only to you, and any sons and their sons we might have.  I long for the day, hopefully not long off, when your seed is ready to plow my bosom."

Man oh man ... suddenly I was feeling a bit of a wang to this lady.  Seriously, I tell you, this is not me doing this!

She leaned forward and kissed her son.  "Oooh!" she cried, tasting my semen on his lips.  "Wonderful, loving boy ... you shall enjoy any and all fucking you wish.  Ask and I shall provide it!" she squealed in delight.  "You wish to fuck me?  Your sister?  Your father?  Other men?  Dogs?  Any and all ... you deserve all the loving you wish!"

Uh-oh ... shit.  As caught up as I was on the moment, this hit with all sorts of trouble.  I had done manipulations here and there, and yeah this family was as much under my spell as I wished, but ... she didn't realize her family was the only one this way with their inhibitions gone.  To carry out her promise to her son, I would basically have to live with this family, and ...

Well, fuck.  Now I really /am/ their Master.  And that wasn't what I wanted!  Their Master as in ... now being responsible.  Shit, I had plans, you know?  Seriously, I was going to enjoy myself with flings with every family on a street.  I would get mothers and fathers to see me and lust for me to stud their underaged daughters and sons as well.  And I got a taste for tail ... dog tail and horse tail that is.  I mean, yeah I'm getting up there in years, but developing this ability, I figured I could enjoy my remaining years doing as I please!  But now ...

"My boy, my beloved boy, I hope you share your seed with me and your sister."  With that, she kissed -- frenched -- her son quickly, then released her grope to turn to her daughter.  "And you ... I love you as well ... and hope you will love me."

"I love you too, mom," the boy whispered first.

"And me too," the daughter gasped, struggling to squeeze out every last drop for her father.

"You are running dry, sweetheart," I said to her.

"I know ... I'm sorry ... I love my daddy so much, I need more ..."

I smiled.  "Well, this is where the beauty of recycling comes in."

"How ... how now?" the daughter asked.

I looked to the mother.  "Quench your daughter, so she might continue quenching your husband.  Love him truly or not, your daughter does, and you love her.  Monogamy is so overrated ... you can recycle and love in a chain, let your daughter taste you, and use your maturity control to show her to spill and waste less!"

The mother had to take several moments to think it out and understand, walking to straddle her daughter from a stand, who in turn was knelt and sitting on her father's face.  The daughter, too, took a moment to understand what to do as her mother spread her legs over and around her; she tilted her head up.  She gave a testing lick -- yeah the doggy lick I slipped into her mind earlier -- and cried, "Mom ... mom ... I love you ..." almost uncontrollably.

"Put your lips in tighter, hon," she said, reaching back to her daughter's head to try to guide the angle.  "That's it, honey, that's it ... just a little bit forward, watch your embrochure, like your trumpet!"

It was only moments before I could hear the muffled gushing of the mother's piss into the daughter's lips.  True to my command, not a drop was spilt.  I knew it would be a bit before the fluid would work its way through her system and she could continue watering her father, but ... well ... they were getting the idea, at least.

"Your son is quite the colt, ma'am," I remarked.  "His cock is so fine.  I've never tasted piss so fine, either.  You are lucky, now that you are free.  I had to hold myself to keep from swallowing it all, because I know having slid this young stud out of your bosom and brought him into the world, you have a right to enjoy the juice of his fruits, and I feel guilty for as much as I have already taken."

The mother trembled more than she was already at wetting her daughter's throat.  "I ... I ... can't disagree ... but you so deserve it ... I could feel your love with my son .... God, your fucking ... you need to fuck with my son ... and my girl ... your love is amazing, look what you've shared with us !" she cried.

"Bend over a bit, and ... Michael is it?  Let your mom have the rest of your love."

This was a bit more of a piece of the original plan, to have the whole family chained together with each other.  The young colt trembled slightly as he explored a touch with his mother who helped guide him to stand before her as she bent over.  She looked quite satiated taking the limp, drygasm-spent cock of her son into her mouth to finish draining his bladder.  I could see tears in her eyes as her lips tasted his piss.

The jostling around with her son tipped her seal with her daughter, and the girl got a splatter from her mother running down her cheeks, shoulders and yet-to-develop bare breasts.  She hovered and quivered over her father who continued his tongue-strokes of her pussy, though her next wave of recycled refreshment had yet to pass to him.

He broke a moment to lie back, for a moment I was worried it was another near-heart attack, but checking my senses on him, I found he was actually more relaxed and the drink from his daughter actually worked, his spirit and body were reviving!

"Sir," he called to me.  "God is blessed by you!  My wife ... gods, amazing ... she is right and true, about everything.  My mom, my sisters, my father, my brother ... I had these buried feelings for them all along as well, stronger htan for her!  But ... I cannot help ... but love you, sweet Sir.  Maybe not quite as strong as my daughter, but ... I am grateful beyond gratefulness to you for this Awesome might of freedom you have given us!  I ... beg a question ..." he fumbled, reaching up casually and stroking his daughter's nether realms with his fingers.

I quickly called off my taps on him as well.  C'mon, I wanna hear it, not just know it!  "Yes?"

"... you have shown us the how and shared the feel of recyling drink.  But ... could you do the same ..." he started to chuckle with a smirk.  "... share a recycling of more solid food with me?"

Ohhh you ... heh.  Still not my cup of tea, but ask and ye shall receive.   And in that position he was in ...

I moved in.  With my feeder to his lips, that about put my cock, limp as it was, just about perfectly with where his drink had just come from.  And damn if, drained as it was, that didn't bring some life back to it yet!  I knew I had no cum left to give after the boy, but that didn't bother me.  That it didn't bother me bothered me a bit ... dammit this was just to be lust, solely for my gratification!  And yet, as I knew my unloaded gun stood to attention, it would be purely to please the girl.

The father figured his way of showing his full gratitude before I readied my load for him with ... preparation.  I've had a rimjob before, but it was always a bit clumsy and uncertain ... this man I knew had never given one or even allowed himself to think much of one was giving a real pro of one, and he was going all the way.  A dance around the rim, cleansing strokes across, and then again at another angle, and another to thoroughly do the job.

The waves of pleasure made it a bit difficult to keep any notion on pleasing the daughter, even as my half-revived cock pushed its way in, but fortunately with her inhibitions gone and the intial no-clue-how-this-goes hesitation, she took the initiative herself, squeezing her netherrealms to manipulate and pull in and grasp my semi-flaccid cock.  I absolutely couldn't reach much farther in its arousal, the boy had just taken too much, but it didn't matter.  She was enjoying it, a soft penetration within her, and I did nothing to take away her full control of it.

Meanwhile, the entire surface was cleaned, and farther went the father, lifting his head up to give more of a boost, actually penetrating his tongue into the chute.

Fuck ... all the fooling around with rimjobs, okay not that many but a few, but no one had gone that far.  Ohhh man ... okay, pops, the new you I like!

His tongue danced and swirled in my uncleansed innards.  Just as so, his lips sealed very tightly around my rim ... he wasn't planning any waste!  But his ... preparation ... was not yet complete as he reached farther and farther with that warm, soft muscle.  No longer spouting homophobic religious nonsense, I was finally getting quite a real joy from it!  Its not like being penetrated by a cock at all, its a lot more filling on all sides of the rectum, warm and soft, and I could feel the cleaning job.  Getting fucked by a guy has its pleasures, but it feels rather like someone taking a hard shit /up/ your ass ... this was more like someone gently wiping within with soft, warm velvet.  Gods, maybe there is a God, and here was heaven!

Before realizing it, the sensation had me harder.  My cock stang a bit, oversensitive, and my balls complained they had nothing, and nothing was forthcoming, but the daughter was getting pleasure from a cock in her pussy for the first time.  I couldn't help but remand myself it should have been her father's cock in her pussy for the first time, but I didn't feel too much like complaining.

With my taps off, I didn't sense the warm surprise the daughter had coming for me as her mother's quencher reached her own bladder, and she decided to use it to lubricate, trickling her nectar down my shaft, onto my balls and her father's chest below.  With that, my bowels were ready and with her father's tight lips, excuded a healthy, long, warm feast.  He waited for the log to finish before grasping it around his mouth with his tongue, breathing heavily through his nose as he seemed to roll it around his mouth and slowly swallow.

"uhhh ..." I grunted.  "... not only conserving food, but sanitary paper.  You are becoming a much more responsible family!" I chuckled.  He chuckled a bit as well, but not enough to break his seal as, having finished the first log, his tongue dove in to cleanse what it had left on my innards and beg for more.

The son gasped, his bladder drained, the exhaustion of his remarkable expenditures reaching him first, pulling his flaccid cock from his mother's thirsty lips.

She licked them, relishing every last flavor of her son's bladder juice, as her own flow to her daughter ebbed.

Sensing her mother's rain having dried up, little Susie broke from the seal with her mother above her, resting her head down a bit as her flow into my penetrating half-flaccid cock continued dribbling.  I squeezed every last bit of digested lasagna into the father my bowels could, and his tongue continued awhile afterward to keep my colon cleansed before he, too, broke, resting back into a lay, leaving only my cock in his daughter's draining pussy.

"Are you ready to call it a night?" I asked her.

She looked back at me and smiled.  "Yeah, but I want you to stay inside me.  We're all together," she said, looking around.  She gave an almost idle, casual grope of her brother.  "I so want your love, little brother, but I know you have given it all already.  I want so badly for both you and father to give me my first child, I can't really decide, but it shall be one of you, that's for sure.  I guess it will be dad's, since his seed is ready ... but ... I can't wait, brother, to bear you children as well."

The need for bedrooms and bedroom doors seem to have become obsolete, couple with how spent everyone was.  There, in the carpet soaked in a couple different flavors of piss, they snuggled in closer, my cock in Susie not breaking for a moment in the process.  The mother and little Michael settled into a flaccid 69, and the mother snoozed off not long after Michael who was first.  I myself felt myself drifting off, but not before I negotiated with the father for a special positioning.  With my cock, flaccid as it was, still penetrating his daughter, I had him 69 us both, slipping his tongue into his daughter's pussy -- dripping freely as she chose, uninhibted by potty training evil -- with his flaccid cock and balls for Susie and I to share together.

And that is where this chapter shall end.
---

Now onto that completely out-of-story rant on fantasy, real life, and things like pedophilia.  Completely skip this if you don't want to get pissed off by the author.

I /hate/ pedophiles.  As in the people who actually screw kids.  There's no gentle mind control, and even if there were, it'd still be wrong IRL.  Do I, the real author (not the first-person perspective character in the whacky above, this is below the end-of-story cutline, so this is the -real- author) have such a desire?  YES.  Duh!  I mean I fucking wrote this shit with plain as day, older man with 7 year old boy and 12 year old girl pedo pleasure!  But its /fiction/!  Its /fantasy/!  Its the only out I need, and if I ever feel I can't control it with that, I have the mind to purge my sexual drive altogether.  Seriously.

But just as much, people who want to prosecute fantasy writers and fans piss me off, so for you guys who like the stuff but agree the real life committers should be castrated ... hey, glad you're with me, wish this text file coudl have a message board feature so we could talk about it.  But, hey, guess what?  I got an e-mail.  Flamers for hate me for writing the story, or for this philosophical bullshit I just scribbled past the end of the story, you'll just get a delete button.  Disagree with me and yet can respect my view in an intelligent e-mail, quite welcome.

-- PervRat (AT) (Gee)mail (DOT) com