πŸ“š his father's genes Part 6 of 8
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SCIENCE FICTION FANTASY

His Fathers Genes Ch 06

His Fathers Genes Ch 06

by amaraine
19 min read
4.69 (5200 views)
adultfiction

"From dust we came, from dust we return," said the balding man with the black shirt and the turnaround collar. "But we are more than dust. There is something in us that is eternal, and we have faith that part of Alicia is now with our heavenly Father."

Brent wanted to believe, so for that moment, he did. It was an eight-five degree day in early November, and the people in their suits were sweating.

Not far from him, Alice stood with her husband and her two daughters, now in their twenties. Two lovely young ladies, who thought they were Bob's kids, but they had Brent's eyes. Bob knew better, of course. But the young women would never become dragons, so there was no need to tell them the truth.

Brenna wore glasses, and no one could tell whether she was paying attention to the funeral or watching a movie playing out in front of her.

The left side of Brenda's head was still shaved, where she had recently had a chip installed. He wondered what sort of programming she had put on it, but it was rude to ask. Her belly bulged with Brent's granddaughter. Her husband Tom's arm was around her.

Alice had covered up her few gray strands with dye; Brent had applied more than a little gray to his hair the same way. She strove to look young, and he strove to look older. She was still, even in austere mourning clothes and with a somber face, sexy to him. Brenda and Brenna, her daughters, looked uncertain how to behave, having been dragged to a stranger's funeral and unaware that the woman inside the dark maple coffin being lowered to the earth was, in fact, their grandmother. Brent's mother.

It was hard for Brent to look at Alice without thinking of making love to her. In this setting, it was also hard looking at Alice without thinking that someday it would be her in the box, and he would be standing, watching, not appreciably older than he was now, unless he used more gray dye and perhaps added some artificial wrinkles.

On the other side of the hole stood Gardner, Brent's father, watching. He looked like a man in his late forties, although he was in fact hundreds of years old. Alicia's husband, Pete, the man who raised Brent, had passed on two years previous, and Gardner had taken good care of his mother since, even as her mind started going. In many ways, this ending was a merciful one. She would not have wanted to linger like that.

Next to Gardner stood a gray-haired woman, with hints of the red she'd once had. She put her arm around him. Brent remembered when the reminder that Chloe had been intimate with his father would have annoyed him. He had felt odd sharing "his" women with anyone, but especially with his father. But now, at this time, he could not begrudge Gardner her comfort.

He remembered his mother smiling at him and telling him, in one of her last lucid moments, that she'd had a good life. Sometimes she'd tell him that Gardner was the best thing that had ever happened to her, or that Pete was; more often, that Brent himself was. She'd loved and been loved.

And now it was time to say goodbye, and Brent tried to choke back tears.

Alice saw and came to him. The girls might have wondered at that, but they did not follow her, gathering around Bob, instead. She took Brent's hand, unable to hold back merely because there was an audience, and gave it a squeeze. "Every moment is precious," Alice said. "This moment is precious, too."

"I loved my Mom," Brent said, and the flow of wet tears started down his cheek.

"I know. And you love me. And love makes it all harder, doesn't it? But it makes it worthwhile, too."

Brent nodded.

"I love you," Alice said.

Her words were a balm and a rusty knife, all at the same time. She knew it, and no doubt hoped the balm would mean more than the other.

"Do you want me to sleep with you tonight?" she asked.

Brent nodded.

She smiled. "I'll let Bob know."

"I don't want him to watch, tonight."

She nodded. "He'll do something with the girls, I imagine. Take them to a movie, or something."

"How does it feel to be about to be a grandparent?"

"Amazing," she said. "I could - no. Are you okay?"

"Okay enough. Go ahead." What did it feel like to be about to be a grandparent, himself? Different, totally. He wasn't really part of Brenda's life, and he doubted he'd have too much contact with the child as a result. He wanted to be more involved, but that would mean watching his grandchild grow old, and die, and stand like he was standing now, at her funeral. And it would require a lot of messy explanations, or a lot of lies.

The cycle of life.

"See you tonight," Alice said, and slipped back to her own family.

Gardner was walking around the big hole in the ground, headed Brent's way.

"Son," he said, putting out his arms.

Brent hugged him. "Father." He had rarely called him that. It got easier, now that Pete was dead. "Dad," He said, trying it on for size.

"You okay?"

"Yep," Brent lied. "You?"

"I've been here before. You haven't. Although this time isn't the same as every other time, either."

"Isn't it?"

"No. It's all different, each wound is fresh, the same as each joy."

"Huh."

"She was a good woman. The best. And she produced a fine son. She lives on through us and especially through you. And you know she'd want you to live your best life."

I nodded. "And she'd want the same for you." It wasn't as easy to say, I thought, for me as for him.

Shovels piled dirt on top of the lowered coffin. The assemblage slowly broke up.

"Darling," said Alice. "What are you thinking about?"

It was morning, and Alice was by his side. She rarely slept over these days, although now that the kids were grown it might happen more frequently. He considered lying.

"That someday, it will be you."

She smiled. "Well, no. I'm going to be recycled. It's more eco-friendly, as my daughters always tell me. No moldering in the grave for me."

"You know what I mean."

"I know what you mean," Alice said. "And thank you for having me in your life, anyway. I'm the luckiest of women. But you - I warned you, of the sadness you would face." She scrunched up her face. "Now that's not supportive. I didn't mean to say I told you so. I'm reminding you that you made your decisions for reasons."

He smiled. "What's the saying? Attachment brings suffering. But a life without love is empty."

"I do not want you to ever experience that emptiness."

He let his hand wander, idly, over her body. It was not as taut as it had once been, and her breasts were softer and less perky. She was still beautiful.

"You see Kirsten much these days?"

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He smiled. "Now and then. Chloe, too. And Rosita, and Lynn."

"Sally?"

He shook his head. "It's been ages."

"And how often do you go to the club?"

"That's been ages, too. Years."

"You should go tonight."

He blinked. "Why?"

"Because sex is fun?"

He laughed. "I noticed." He pulled her to him.

She squirmed out of his grasp. "I'm serious, Brent. I want you to go. There's probably lots of girls there you've never even met. Young, luscious girls."

"Perhaps I've developed a taste for older women." He grabbed her ass, and gave it a happy squeeze.

"You can say that now," Alice said. "But will you say it in twenty more years? And you won't have anyone to say it to in forty. It's time for you to stop living in the past, Brent, and prepare for the future."

"You want me to find another girlfriend."

"Yes. But not tonight. Tonight I just want you to have fun. If not tonight, then very soon."

"Maybe I don't want to."

Alice smiled. "You've always trusted me. Trust me again?"

Brent couldn't resist that smile. "Fine. Soon."

She grinned. "Good boy. Now you get a reward."

Good boy? She'd never have been so bold, in the old days. But they had an easy familiarity now, and she could say it and have him shrug. He knew she'd do whatever he asked of her.

She slid down his body to take his cock in her mouth. He let her suck it for less than a minute, before rolling her over and fucking her hard.

It was not that night, but a few nights later, that Brent walked down the familiar alley. The neighborhood had changed, but the alley was still there. The old bouncer had died and gone to bouncer heaven, and he had not been replaced. The new door responded to his presence, detected that he was a dragon, and opened for him automatically.

He wondered how much longer the secret of the dragons could last, given that they could be detected by electronics now. As long as the governments didn't know what to look for, he supposed.

Inside, the place hadn't changed much. The same bar, the same style of couches. They'd been replaced a few times. The girls were different, of course. Twenty somethings, the age of Brenna and Brenda. He did a quick scan to assure himself that they were not there. That would be awkward, to say the least; also highly improbable.

He recognized a few of the men. Marco, and Gray. Neither had changed a bit.

He scanned the panoply of pulchritude. The girls were as pretty as ever, and he thought there was a bit more ethnic diversity as well. Had breasts gotten bigger over the years, and perkier? And some of the girls were very tall, over six feet in their heels. He looked for the dragon tattoos, and that had not changed. Almost all of them were on breasts or thighs now, requiring the girls who had them to wear revealing outfits. Many of the girls had a small, metallic looking square beneath the little dragon that proclaimed them free for dragon use. One of the girls had little cat ears; another, a fox ears and a tail.

He didn't scan long before two girls came up to him. One was nearly as tall as his six-two, with generous curves and skin nearly as dark as midnight where it was revealed by her slinky gold lamΓ© top. The other was shorter, a busty platinum blonde with a birthmark, and she wore nothing but a thong and heels.

"Hi there," said the ebony beauty. "I'm Qiana."

"Haven't seen you around," said the blonde. "Marilyn."

"It's been a while," Brent said. "Brent." Qiana and Marilyn both had the little squares. "What do these mean?" He asked.

"Oh, they've been all the rage the last three years," Marilyn said.

"Hard to get a dragon's interest without one," Qiana said. "It means we're dragon-only."

Brent shook his head. The little dragon usually implied that, too, although exceptions were made for cuckold husbands and the like. Marilyn's breasts brushed against his arm, which surely wasn't an accident. Casually, he cupped one, while raising an eyebrow at Qiana.

"It's a symbol of the chip. We literally can't cum unless a dragon nearby is having an orgasm. And if he is - wow. It's like the best thing ever. But the chip makes our pleasure totally dependent on yours."

Brent frowned. "And who made you do this?"

Marilyn giggled. "No one made us, silly. We just know our place."

"Right," he said. Technology had confused him when he was young, when it meant figuring out a cell phone app. The new world where people put chips in their heads, where a pair of glasses was probably loaded with electronics, where genetic modification allowed people to choose their gender and even add attributes from an animal - it was hard to keep up with. At least humanity had managed to slow down and halt runaway climate change - cold fusion, or something or other - although not before it had gotten significantly warmer.

Dragons were, in general, not great with tech.

"I want to walk around," he said, putting one arm around each girl. They snuggled next to him as he took a tour. What would it be like to fuck a girl who had a tail? He realized that he didn't, and probably would never, even know if the girls whose waists he had his arms around had been girls all their lives.

"I'm close," Marco yelled. A girl with bright blue, yet strangely natural looking, hair, was riding him, reverse-cowgirl style. Her skin was ghostly pale, her lips indigo, and she even had a little blue landing strip above her pussy.

"Mind if we?" Qiana asked.

"May we?" Marilyn asked.

He wasn't sure what they meant, but he nodded. "Sure."

The two girls ran toward Marco and the goth beauty. Others in the club did the same. They crowded in, most of them kneeling.

"Auuggggh!" Marco yelled.

At once, the whole group of women started writhing in ecstasy. Screams filled the club as every woman nearby orgasmed at once. The girl on top kept bouncing up and down on Marco's dick, but her eyes rolled back in her head.

Once again, Brent wondered how long the dragons could keep their secret. All these girls, their chips attuned to dragons alone? Maybe no one would figure out about the door, but the women were walking around with the secret to dragon detection in their head. Someone was going to figure it all out.

He shrugged. Perhaps dragons wouldn't be hunted, like Gardner talked about in the old days. After all, people were a lot more accepting now, of all sorts of things. The one constant was change. The world changed. Women changed.

Had he been letting himself change?

Qiana and Marilyn hurried back to his side. A sheen of sweat covered their bodies, and a glow.

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"I hope you'll come a few times tonight," Marilyn said. "We'd be happy to help."

"And if you see another girl you like, we'll introduce you," Qiana said. "As long as we get to be close when, you know, it happens."

"Is closer better?" Brent asked.

"Oh yeah," Marilyn said, with a shudder as if she was remembering something delicious.

A couple of girls, the catgirl in a bikini and a redhead in French lingerie, got up and headed toward the door, and Brent looked to see who had gotten their attention.

Gardner. Brent tightened up. He'd never liked it when Gardner and he were both in the club at the same time.

Gardner scanned the club quickly, his gaze passing over Brent with the slightest of nods. Then he said something to the redhead.

Immediately, she took her panties off, leaving her in demi-bra, garter belt, stockings, and heels. She handed the panties to the catgirl, who took them to the bar. A girl wearing a bow tie, a white blouse, and a miniskirt was tending bar, and her dark hair reminded him of the first time he'd seen Alice. The only buttons fastened on her blouse was the one at the neck, to hold the tie, and one at the bottom. The rest gaped.

He was tempted to go over and put his hands inside her blouse. He knew she wouldn't object; the girls of the club were there to please the dragons. It amused him that the idea of groping some strange girl turned him on, even with a whole bar of strange girls who would probably bend over obediently the moment he suggested he wanted to fuck them, only asking, "What hole?"

He decided to stop questioning his impulse. Besides, it meant walking away from Gardner.

"Get you anything?" asked the bargirl.

"These," he said, reaching in and putting on hand on each of her large boobs.

She arched her back. "Thank you, Sir," she said.

"Get these two whatever they want," he said, taking his hands away so he could indicate Qiana and Marilyn.

He didn't ask the bargirl her name. Already, bittersweet memories of Alice, at the same bar, were filling his head. If Alice had been there tonight, tending bar, he would have been tempted by her, all the cute and body-sculpted twenty-somethings notwithstanding. She, in turn, would probably have encouraged him to enjoy the youth and variety.

She was, in a way, encouraging him now. He pivoted on the stool to face the rest of the club, and Qiana and Marilyn turned with him.

Gardner had not wasted any time. The catgirl had not been his cup of tea, apparently. He sat on a couch, and the redhead and a naked East Asian girl were licking on opposite sides of his cock like they were sharing a lollipop.

So soon after... thought Brent, and realized he was being hypocritical.

"May I touch?" asked Marilyn.

He nodded. Marilyn reached out and stroked his crotch. Qiana's eyes asked the question, and he nodded again. Soon, both girls were massaging him to hardness.

Gardner looked at him, and for a moment, their eyes met. Brent didn't flinch away, this time. Gardner said something to the girls, and they adjusted. The redhead took Gardner's hard thick cock into her mouth, and the other girl stood and rubbed Gardner's chest, while he groped her boobs, and kissed her.

It was oddly hot. He'd forgotten how casual things were in the club, and how simple they could be. He could touch who he wanted to touch, make love - or fuck - who I wanted to make love to. The girls were here for the dragons, the dragons were here for the girls, and no one pretended it was any different than that.

"Do you want us to do something about this?" Qiana asked. There wasn't any doubt about what she was talking about.

Gardner looked over at him again and smiled. The redhead was going to town, sucking him enthusiastically on all fours. At a word from him, she moved her legs a little further apart, and reached behind her, displaying two empty holes to Brent's view.

Brent shrugged. "Come with me." He got off the stool and walked toward Gardner and redhead. Qiana and Marilyn tagged along behind him. None of them would think to say "Good boy" to him. Probably if they thought it, they wouldn't dare.

"May I?" he asked Gardner.

"Go right ahead," Gardner said, with a grin. The old man was trying to sound casual about it, but he couldn't fool Brent. They both knew that this was different, and crossed a line that Brent had drawn, back when he was new to all of this.

"Take off my pants," he said. Qiana and Marilyn hurried to undress him.

"Shirt too?" Qiana asked.

"Sure."

Naked, he knelt down behind the redhead and slid inside her pussy. He didn't know her name. He wondered if Gardner knew it.

"One of you two lick my balls. I want the other to kiss me."

He wasn't sure how they worked it out between them, but Qiana ended up being the one doing the kissing, and Marilyn insinuated herself between himself and the redhead just enough to do what he'd asked.

He pushed the dress off Qiana's shoulders, baring her torso, and enjoyed exploring her chocolate skin. His cock plunged into the redhead's molten pussy, and his balls were cool and wet.

"Lick her pussy some," Brent said.

Qiana giggled. "Evil man. I like it."

"Evil?"

"You know she can't cum that way," Qiana explained. "She has the chip. But she can get very very frustrated."

He would probably be a better person, he mused, if he didn't find that quite so hot.

"I think the little slut wants us both to cum in her," Gardner said.

He'd been, perhaps subconsciously, avoiding looking at Gardner. No doubt Gardner was right. The redhead was moving her head up and down on Gardner's cock enthusiastically. Frantically, even.

"Let's do it," Brent said.

Brent grabbed her hips and pounded her hard. Gardner wrapped his hand in her hair and started face fucking her.

He knew the moment Gardner came down the redhead's throat, because all the girls nearby came at the same time. Qiana moaned in delight, and Marilyn vibrated against him, and the pussy around his cock contracted in beautiful spasms that increased Brent's pleasure tenfold.

Marilyn started kissing his balls again. Qiana caressed his asshole. He knew what they wanted, and he wanted it too.

He let go, flooding the redhead's pussy with his hot seed. The girls shuddered and moaned around him, and he sensed that other girls had crowded around to join the orgasmic feast.

When he pulled out, Marilyn's mouth quickly enveloped his cock, licking up the mixed juices there.

The redhead curled up on the floor, an empty-headed look of absolute bliss on her dazed face.

Qiana snuggled against him, pressing her breasts against his side.

He got up, suddenly, pulling his clothes on.

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