This series started from a prompt in the Forum by
ScrappyPaperDoodler
: "As Many Tropes as Possible (A Tribute to Literotica and Smut in General):... a guy... who's hung like a horse and inherits a billion dollars from a father he never knew he had. He falls in love with his sister... after somehow winning... a game of poker... here's the twist: the sister is an alien-vampire and all the friends are cyborgs (see 'fem-bots')... his high school bully ends up banging the hero's mom... we all know revenge is a dish best served anally... the use of a time-machine ..."
Me being me, I took the absurd as a challenge, and with a lot of help and ideas from Scrappy I've written an amusing tale of wishes and wanton lust.
Content Warning:
Incest, Non-consensual; all characters are at least 18 years old.
*
It resembled Robbie - almost as if some mechanical sex god had looked at him and decided, "I can do better than that. A lot better." The hair was the same chestnut brown and the eyes the same blue, and there was a familial resemblance in the sculpted features of the face... but this version of Robbie was toned and muscular, a confident college athlete compared to Robbie's skinny high-school nerd.
Not that Zo hadn't liked the original, but she felt herself almost uncontrollably attracted to this adonis with its unnatural perfection, its eyes smouldering with desire for her, its cock erect and twitching impatiently (and superior in dimensions to the original).
The strength in its hands as it grabbed her, one hand on her thigh, firm and supportive, the other on her bum, possessive and controlling, excited her as much as dismayed her. "Wait! Stop!" she cried, but then its lips were against hers, soft but determined, and it felt so warm and human she almost forgot that her boyfriend was dead. That she had killed him.
Zo was aroused, but also still wet from earlier, from spermicidal lubricant and the original Robbie's cum. That had been a sweet way to lose her virginity, an intimate and playful coupling, both full of innocent uncertainty and awkwardly rough. There was blood on the sheets from her torn hymen - and more from what had happened after.
"Stop," she repeated between kisses. It was a machine, it wasn't Robbie, and to surrender to this passion was perversity. She pushed it away, or tried to, but her strength was unequal and her efforts half-hearted. Its mouth was sucking on her nipples, and its hard, throbbing cock was gliding between her labia, brushing against her clit, and she was almost dizzy with lust.
It was big, so much bigger than Robbie's, and she was sure it would hurt, but Zo parted her thighs to give the machine access to her. Wrong or not, she needed it to continue. She needed the illusion that Robbie still lived. "Do it," she whispered. "Fuck me."
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"Happy Birthday, sweetheart. I made a cake."
Zo scowled at her mum. How anyone could be so full of energy at seven in the morning was beyond her. Zo's mum was some kind of superwoman, able to both bake a cake and get herself ready for work by the time Zo crawled out of bed, and somehow she managed to look perfect and make everything seem effortless. She even faced an increasingly fucked-up world with a relentless optimism, entirely oblivious to climate catastrophe and political crises.
She often thought something was fundamentally wrong with her mum. Her world literally revolved around Zo as if nothing and no one else mattered - which, to be fair, made Zo feel loved and protected, but there were times when she desperately wanted more, though what exactly she didn't know.
"Tell me about my father," Zo asked sometimes, to which the reply was always, "You have no father." What that was supposed to mean, she had no idea. What it meant for her life was equally unclear. She wasn't the only one in her class from a broken family with an absent parent.
She was, however, the only one in the class whose mother was a teacher in the school. That was embarrassing enough in itself, but listening to the boys in her class all lusting over Miss Evergreen the 'sexy maths teacher and total MILF' was almost painful. Not that her mum did anything to encourage it, but she was beautiful and had a body to die for and was just so helplessly nice to everyone, whether they deserved it or not.
"Hey, Mum," Zo said. She tried not to get her hopes up. "Since it's my birthday, can Robbie stay over tonight?" It had never been allowed before.
Her mum stood still for a few seconds, and seemed almost sad as she said, "You're an adult, now, Zo. Your choices are your own." Brightening up, she added, "Would you like me to make a nice romantic dinner for the two of you?"
Zo cringed at the thought. "Just pizzas, Mum," she said. "And maybe some wine?"
"Of course, sweetheart. Now please go get dressed. We don't want to be late for school."
The John Alexander Academy was a large and well funded high school, and part of the international Alexander Foundation for Higher Education. Supposedly John Alexander himself had gone to this school and had been something of a nerd, much like Zo was now, although she seriously doubted she was about to inherit a fortune from her unknown billionaire father - although she wouldn't mind that at all.
Almost as good though (to stretch the meaning of the word 'almost') was the invitation she had just received. By actual hard-copy post. The postman had delivered it (along with the usual pile of pointless junk mail) just as she had stepped out of the house, and had seemed very pleased with himself for doing so. She'd thanked him, of course, and had opened it in the car.
"Dear Miss Zo Evergreen and Mr Robert Johnson," it started. Zo and Robbie had applied together as lead writer and principal editor respectively of the school's student media. "We are pleased to invite you to the International Relations Residential at Edgecomb Manor," it continued, going on to give details of the amazing week-long visit. The handwritten signature at the end, written a looping script of blue ink, was that of Cassie Edgecomb herself, co-director of the Alexander Foundation.
"Yes!" Zo screamed. The annual event was hugely competitive but the school had provided glowing references for them both, which no doubt had helped. She hugged her mother (although not too tightly - she was driving) and said excitedly, "I'm going to Edgecomb!" It was the sort of opportunity that could completely change her life.
Her mother barely reacted to the news except to murmur, "I miss John."
Zo pulled away and stared at her in surprise. "What do you mean?" she demanded, but her mother just smiled and refused to say another word on the matter.
As the car pulled up in front of the school and Zo climbed out, it was with the dreadful suspicion that maybe she did know who her father was after all.
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Had the real Robbie treated her with such casual disregard for her struggles and her pleas to stop, no doubt she would have been even more traumatised than she was. Zo understood, however, that this simulacrum was reacting to her body's wishes, not her mind's. Staring down into her eyes with feigned adoration, for a while it held her ankles high and apart, driving its huge, tireless cock into her without mercy, from time to time changing pace, or depth of thrust, or angle of attack, always measuring her, studying her, mapping her, becoming the perfect lover.
She'd lost count now of how many times it had made her climax. Each time she recovered from one Earth-shattering orgasm, it withdrew from her shaking, fatigued body and twisted her into a new position. Sometimes it held her wrists above her head, or behind her back; increasingly it spanked her bum or pulled her hair, and she hated how much she loved it; after one particularly intense climax, it had forced its thick cock (slick with the undeniable evidence of her own arousal) between her lips, stretching her jaw painfully wide, holding her head still as it fucked her mouth.
It abused her and exhausted her. Not until she desperately called it by the name of the boy it had replaced did it actually listen to her. "Robbie!" she cried. "Stop, please!"
The thing that wasn't Robbie - the thing that had ravished her like a character in some cheap porn show - stopped. It watched her wriggle free from its controlling hands and made no attempt to resume. It merely knelt on the bed and regarded her with lustful eyes.
She didn't question it. She took the win. She felt bruised all over. Snatching up the bottle of water that was beside the bed, Zo drank half in one go, then sat sipping the remainder as she considered what to do.
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"What if he is?" she asked Robbie that evening. They were alone in her room, well stuffed with birthday pizza and more than a little merry from the wine.
"What if your father is a reclusive billionaire who spends his life surrounded by gorgeous women?" He laughed. "Maybe your mum was one of them. I mean it is possible they knew each other when they were younger. Maybe they were even high-school sweethearts."
Robbie made a point of kissing her, and she was happy to respond. They'd been doing a lot of kissing lately. "You know," he said, "we're both adults now, and we finally have a room to ourselves..." He said it as if she hadn't been thinking it all day.
"You smell really good," she murmured, kissing his neck, tasting him. Feeling his pulse beneath her lips. "I want to meet him."
He pulled away, startled. "What?"
"When we're there," she explained. "At the manor. He lives there. Let's look for him."
Zo was feeling warm. More than warm, she was hot. She stripped out of her dark tights and skirt and her white, button-up shirt, and lay back on her bed wearing only her black lace underwear. "I need to know if he's my father."
Robbie hurriedly stripped down to his blue boxers and joined her on the bed, one hand reaching tentatively for her breasts, squeezing them gently as he kissed her. It was nice in a way, but also frustrating to have the fabric between his hand and her sensitive nipples.
"Hold on," Zo said, and removed her bra - and then sighed as he bent to suck on the exposed points, his tongue teasing them until it was just too much and she had to push him away. Not that he stayed away, of course. She liked his hunger for her.
There was something else, though. The very evident hardness within his boxers, pressing against her thigh. "Take them off," she ordered, and he was happy to obey. It was, she judged from what little she knew of these things, a moderately sized cock. She wrapped a hand about the smooth shaft and gripped firmly as it pulsed in time with his beating heart.
She moved down the bed so that she could smell him, an incredible aroma of male sweat and sexual arousal. She pressed the hot, throbbing shaft against her cheek. "Put it in your mouth," Robbie said. "Please, Zo."
She hadn't planned to do it. She'd thought they'd kiss and eventually make gentle love, not that she'd immediately pounce on his cock and try to devour it. The smell of it was making her dizzy with lust, and she took it in her mouth, sucking on it like an ice lolly, bobbing her head like they did in the movies. She had no idea if she was doing it right, except for his gasps of pleasure.
