Cara's Si Trip Breeding

[Author's note: In

Grown Up

, Cara confronts the reality of the new relationship of her mother Rena and Wade, her new step-father. This story takes place two years later.

This story is part of the Literotica Valentine's Day 2025 contest - please vote!]

---

Cara zipped her pack up and then hollered through the bedroom door. "Wade."

Presently, her burly step-father appeared in the open doorway. She gestured to the ski bag. "Make yourself useful?"

Wade wrapped a massive fist around the strap of her pack, slinging it across his broad shoulders. He reached down and grasped the handle of her ski bag, tugging it after him without complaint. Cara trotted along behind the big man.

Her mother was in the kitchen, packing food into a bag for them to take. Cara went over to her as Wade lugged Cara's luggage to the front door to load into the car.

"That smells nice," she said.

Her mother smiled. "Bolognese, the spaghetti is underneath. Should keep you both going. It's good energy food. You got your ski jacket? Packed your thermals?"

Cara's mother was just a little shorter than her, standing in her bare feet. She was in tight lycra exercise pants and a white crop top that showed off her cleavage. Her long, blonde hair was tied back loosely in a ponytail that reached midway down her back.

Wade had decided to bimboify her, or rather, Rena had bimboified herself to please her new husband, transforming her forty-two-year-old body with rigorous exercise until she was as toned and fit as her daughter. At first, it had rankled Cara that her strong-minded mother had turned herself into Wade's bimbo wife without any hint of resistance, but, in the intervening two years, she'd come to accept it. She'd come to accept many things.

"Yep, all packed. I'm a big girl now. I'm all grown up, despite what you seem to believe," Cara replied.

It caught her mother's attention and she patted her daughter's hand, instinctively. "I know, baby. You're making adult decisions."

"Ready to roll," thundered a male voice from somewhere else in the house. "Daylight's wasting."

Footsteps approached. Wade strode purposefully into the kitchen, reaching between the two women to pick up the food bag. Cara and Rena parted to allow him between them. He glanced at them both and then smiled.

Cara was very aware of how they would look to him: same height, same slim, trim figures, one with modest, natural breasts and the other augmented for his pleasure to D-cups. One older, but seemingly not too much older. Both now with long blonde hair because that's how he preferred them.

Cara had changed herself too, until she and her mother were often mistaken for sisters. They used the same hairdresser, they had the same fitness instructor, they shared the same clothes. Cara wasn't going to get herself augmented, but she'd worked hard, like her mother had, to sculpt a perfect bubble butt. Her step-father leaned into his wife and gave her a kiss.

"Drive safe," she told him. "Let me know when you get there. Steady on the road, it'll be icy in the mountains."

"Yes, dear. I'll call when we're safe," Wade drawled, giving her a rugged, lopsided grin that Cara knew set her mother's heart alight.

Cara knew, because it set her heart alight too. At first, she had hated him for what he was doing to her mother, until Rena had finally made her see the truth. Now, two years later, approaching the end of college, Cara had found herself slotting into the peculiar life that Wade and Rena had constructed around each other.

"Love you," Wade told Rena.

"Love you too," Rena replied, adding, "Daddy."

"See you soon baby. Let me know if you can get away early."

"I'll try."

They kissed, and Cara hugged her mother. Then they left, Cara following her step-father's towering figure out into the cold. She got into the passenger side of the car because Wade always drove. It was part of the quid pro quo, a man thing.

Cara would have bristled at it two years ago, all fresh-faced from the first year of her Psychology degree. She'd become well-versed in male power dynamics and toxic masculinity, right up until she'd tumbled into Wade's bed while her own mother watched. It had opened up an entirely new world of love and sharing, and made a mockery of some of the things her friends back at college said to each other about gender politics. So, she'd learned to keep her mouth shut. She'd also learned how to deflect the advances she got from the guys on campus, and then the girls as it started to go around that a girl with a body that hot who wasn't dating must surely be into females instead.

It was simpler to invent a boyfriend back home that she was saving herself for, than to even attempt the truth. Sharing the same bed with her own mother and her step-father on a regular basis would have gotten her excommunicated from the friend-groups she'd maintained on campus.

They all shared a bed when she was back from college, Cara and her mother taking turns to sate their sexual appetites with the gruff, muscled man sitting behind the driving wheel.

"When's she coming?" Cara asked.

"Depends. She's got a project all-team meeting she said, then there's a bunch of reports."

"She could bring her laptop and do them up at the snow."

"Apparently not. She said she wants to keep it separate and I don't blame her. I've told the guys at work not to message me unless something is literally on fire." He placed his massive hand over hers. "I value my family time. Anyway, it's not forever."

"When's she finishing up work? Did you decide?"

"There's a phase-two project that'll run to the end of July, and then she'll finish up. She's been doing it years, she's earned a change."

Cara smirked, and Wade picked up on it.

"What?" he said.

"Just the thought of her giving up the career and becoming a full-time housewife."

"So what, Cara? You think it's wrong?"

"It's just, I never imagined her letting go of the reins, swapping the high heels for the domesticity."

"Oh, she'll still need to wear the high heels," Wade rumbled.

"And the pearls, Wade? And the crisp A-line dress?" Cara mocked, good-naturedly.

"Maybe also the big hair," he chuckled. "I might make her do that for me. I'm sure she wouldn't refuse."

Cara tingled inside. No, her mother wouldn't refuse. She'd dress up as the Fifties housewife in her heels and her pearls and her stockings for her husband. Then there would be fireworks afterwards.

"It's a big year, Cara. A lot of changes. You're graduating, Rena's leaving work, we're all getting ready for the next part of our lives. How are you feeling?"

Cara hesitated. Wade was checking again. "If I gave you a different answer now, what would you do?"

"Whatever you wanted to do, Cara. It's your life."

"It's yours too, the both of you."

Wade frowned, hunching his shoulders. He took a while to answer, and Cara became aware of the rumble of the wheels on the road.

"I'm asking," he said at last, "Because it's a big step and it's irreversible. There are certain, uh, gates that you come to in life, where your decision to step through changes you forever. If you wanted to go, I'd understand. Rena would understand, too. We're offering a life, but you're twenty-one. You could go anywhere."

Cara watched the signposts go past. "Music?" she asked.

They listened to tunes for the next couple of hours, stopping to refuel and grab lunch, then pressing on. In front of them, the mountains reared up over the horizon. She surveyed the oncoming granite faces, the brooding bulk, snatching glimpses at snow topping the more distant peaks. Wade seemed content to listen to music, tolerating her choices because she'd picked songs that she knew he'd like too. They would have to switch to Wade's playlist soon, and it would be all classic rock, all the way to the ski fields.

They made slow progress through the snow, as the darkness set in. At least it wasn't snowing. The lodge was a little out of the centre of the village, set on a wooded hillside with cabins dotted between the trees. Wade pulled up at one and turned off the engine.

"Cabin thirteen," he said. "Lucky for some. I messaged the keycode to you both, wanna get the place opened up? I'll haul the luggage."

"Sure. That definitely sounds like a man job, Wade."

Cara got out of the car, and the warmth was stripped instantly from her body. Her boots crunched over packed snow as she raced to the cabin door. Behind her, Wade was pulling her ski bag out of the car, his breath steaming in the car headlights as he approached her. She tapped in the keycode and entered the cabin gratefully.

Wade lumbered in behind her, depositing her bag on the wooden floor. He gave the cabin a cursory inspection. "Nice. This should do for the weekend."

"Two bedrooms, plenty of space," Cara smirked.

"You try having the conversation, Cara. I'd like to book a cabin. I'm bringing my step-daughter. No, we just need one bedroom, thanks. Yeah, let me just go ahead and pop your number onto our do-not-answer list, sir."

Wade left to fetch the rest of the luggage. Cara found the pans and when Wade brought in the food bag, she got on with heating up the bolognese. Like her mother would have done, Cara realised, without fuss, just taking the female role and making the food without protest or expectation of help. It struck her then just how much she'd settled in her step-father's presence, how well they fitted together.

"Rena, which bedroom?" Wade called out, then. "Damn, sorry. Cara. Cara, which bedroom?"

"Blondes all look alike from behind, hey, Wade?" Cara fired back, smiling to herself. "Any, I don't have a preference."

Powerful hands grasped her hips unexpectedly, but she kept stirring the sauce as it heated.

"No, you're not interchangeable. I'm sorry, it's just force of habit. It's usually her with me, not you."

Cara felt the warmth of his palms through her jeans, not letting her go. She turned her head, looking up at him. "She'll be here tomorrow, Wade. Then you can order the good little wife around as much as you like. You won't need to tell the difference anymore, but for reference she's the slightly shorter one who calls you Daddy."

"You don't give an inch, do you?" Wade rumbled, smiling down at her.

Cara went up on her tiptoes, giving her step-father a peck on the lips. "Not a chance, because you'd take a mile. Do you want to set the table?"

Wade did as he was asked, and they sat down to eat. They talked about the runs that were open, the weather report, planning the day. It felt cozy and casual. Wade was a skier too, but not quite at her level. Good enough though to spend the day together up the mountain.

Cara cleared the table without his bidding, pouring them both a red wine. Wade had the wood heater blazing, sitting on the thick sheepskin rug in front of it.

"Man make fire," she commented, and was rewarded with a rough hand sliding up the back of her leg as he crouched in front of the blaze.

She could feel the heat. She passed his drink to him and hunkered down next to him, staring into the flames.

"What's in my smoothies, Wade?" she asked.

Wade sipped his wine thoughtfully, lost in the fire. "You know."

"You took her off the birth control. Have you done the same to me?"

"Might just be vitamins."

Cara shook her head. "I saw the folic acid bottle in the cupboard. There's less tablets in there each day. Am I fertile?"

It had been the hardest thing to take, surrendering control of her fertility to him, just like her mother had done. At college, she stayed on the pill but in the holidays, Wade made them all smoothies in the morning, crushing up vitamins, adding protein powder, fruit. She'd given Wade her birth control pills too, and he'd added them into the mix alongside everything else. Wade had taken charge of her in a fundamental way, deciding whether she was able to breed or not. Cara shouldn't have been shocked by his requirements: he'd done the same thing for her mother. But then he'd stopped adding the birth-control pills to her mother's morning drink.

Wade didn't use protection for either of them, and it was fine because Cara wasn't having sex with anyone else. Wade had sworn the same, and her mother, well, Cara couldn't conceive of her needing fulfillment outside of the home. Rena had given up her fertility like it was two hundred years ago, when the wife was expected to produce babies and keep house. It had made her blissfully happy, the idea of trying again for children with him, even as late as it was for her.

For Cara, knowing that Wade intended to breed her too, to have both women carrying his children, did something in the back of her head that she couldn't name. He'd been direct in his wishes and her mother had been matter-of-fact about it. She was going to step away from her career, so why not mind her own child and Cara's? After all, Rena had just been Cara's age when she'd given birth to her only child.

It should have felt monstrous, Wade choosing to burden her with a child at twenty-one. But there was something indefinable in the idea of it, as if the same urge had been passed down from Rena to her daughter: the desire to be bred.

Slowly, Wade nodded his head. "You're fertile, Cara, and it's the right number of days since your period. I've been keeping track. There's no guarantee. God knows, we had a struggle with your mother due to her being older, but once she fell, I just think it's...."

"Good to have them close together," Cara interjected. "Makes sense."

He fished into his pocket and produced a foil square. "You choose. But, your body's ready, if I don't use protection."

Wade opened her hand and pressed the square into her palm. His attention turned back to the flames. Cara made a fist, staring at the fire too, her wine forgotten. She could feel her step-father's presence, his silence. Her mother had already chosen, now he was giving her the same choice. Cara took his face in her hands and kissed him deeply. The condom lay forgotten on the floor.

Cara broke off, "You know it's Valentine's Day, right? Just tell me. Was this set up?"

"You mean, did Rena really have meetings she couldn't get out of?" Wade replied. "Of course not, that was made up."

"Then, why?"

Wade touched her again, pressing against her chest, and she laid herself down on the sheepskin rug. She allowed him to strip her naked, discarding her jeans and then her top into a little pile next to her on the floor. Cara undid her bra and was rewarded with strong hands cupping her, rough skin against her hardening nipples. She raised her hips, like she was offering herself to her step-father, and he tugged her panties down her legs, adding them to the growing pile. Wade looked down at his work, his eyes roving over his beautiful step-daughter's body. It made her wet, just watching him.

"It's her Valentine's Day gift," Wade told her. "She wanted us to have this one-on-one time. She'll be here first thing tomorrow. In the meantime, Cara, why don't we give her a call?"

Cara extracted her phone from her pile of clothing and called her mother. It connected almost instantly, like the woman on the other end of the call couldn't wait to talk to her.

"Hi, we're here," Cara said. "We're fed and just crashed out."

"How's the cabin?" her mother asked, but there was an undercurrent of excitement in her voice.

"It's nice. It's cozy."

"Show me. Go to video."

Wade took the phone away from Cara. He tapped the screen until it showed Rena's face. She looked surprised. "Strip for me," he told her.

Cara watched in mute fascination as the strong-willed, independent woman of her childhood, reduced herself to a passive spectator. She followed Wade's commands, displaying herself as she freed her plump, incredibly firm, impossibly high breasts from her bra. Rena tracked the phone down her body, showing off her trim stomach, tugging clothing off her bottom half too until she was staring down the phone's camera lens completely naked.

"Now I'm going to make you watch," Wade told her.

He propped the phone up against a leg of the coffee table, then returned to the rug, positioning himself over Cara's supine body.

"How's that Rena?" he called out, turning to the face on the phone screen.

"I can see everything," his wife replied. Her voice was hoarse, like it was a confession.

Wade turned his attention to the nude woman beneath him and Cara was caught in his smouldering eyes. She felt her body responding on a primitive level, reacting to the knowledge that he'd removed her fertility protection, that the condom packet was lying on the floor, forgotten. He smiled down at her, and she felt like prey, pinned beneath a powerful predator.

"Good," he grunted, his attention now focused on Cara. "I want you to watch."

"May I touch myself, Daddy?" Cara's mother sounded pitiful, like she was begging.

"Touch yourself, baby. Stroke yourself while you watch your daughter satisfying my needs."

"And can I cum?"

Cara looked up helplessly as her step-father, her alpha male, smiled wolfishly.

"You know the answer to that, baby. You know you need to be a good girl for Daddy."

Wade undressed himself slowly, revealing his thickly-muscled bulk to his women. He took his time, folding his clothes in a pile like he was teasing. But, his manhood was already solid, standing out proudly from between his legs.

"Ready?" he asked, and Cara nodded meekly.

Wade descended, his mouth pressing against Cara's, forestalling further words. She felt the tip of his rock-hard erection pressing between her thighs, and she understood. Cara had reached the point of no return: if she spread her legs now, Wade would enter her and he would breed her. A delicious, undeniable urgency seized her. She wanted to be bred. She wanted her step-father to claim her. He pulled back, breaking off his kiss.

She stared into his eyes and parted her thighs. "I love you," she confessed.

"I love you too."

He penetrated her gently, sliding deeper with each thrust as she slickened his shaft, until finally he was embedded fully, his tip pressed against her unprotected cervix. Cara closed her eyes and let her step-father take her.

Wade built up gradually, taking her slowly at first before increasing his rhythm. Cara was conscious of the sheepskin beneath her, the warmth of the fire on her skin, the slick heat of her step-father's body on top of her, and his implacable manhood as it withdrew and then plunged deeply inside her.

She was dimly aware of her phone, propped up across the floor, broadcasting what Wade was doing to her into a bedroom hours away, to a naked woman who would be staring at the screen masturbating herself, utterly powerless to stop the man she'd married fucking her only daughter.

Cara had felt it in the beginning, the awfulness of subjecting her mother to it, of being a willing accomplice as Wade put his wife in her place and made her watch him take his enjoyment from a younger version of herself. But each time afterwards, she'd seen the euphoria in her mother's eyes, and the compersive love as she'd experienced the two people she cared about most in all the world enjoying each other's bodies.

Wade began to grunt, increasing his cadence, and Cara understood. This was a service fuck, her step-father emptying his balls into one of his women, rather than an extended lovemaking session. It felt delicious and forbidden and tantalizingly humiliating to know that she was giving up her protection for the very first time in her life, but the man doing it to her was uninterested in her pleasure.

It twisted something in her head, and she asked, "Can I cum, please?"

Wade gritted his teeth, his face flushed with his exertions. He just nodded. She'd asked him permission for the first time, giving over control of her climaxes just as her mother had done, and she knew the words she was going to say next, and what they meant.