His nineteen year old sextuplets walked by in a uniform row, first Carling — a skinny blonde half hippie, half hipster, all yoga — then Erin — shorter than her sister and not conventionally attractive, but with a wry, seductive smile constantly glued to her face, then Darah — the smart one and a little wider than Erin. Then came the next three: Hope — the stylish one — and her identical twin, Christine — the stoner one, and, yes, Brian knew, though of course Christine didn't know that he knew — and, finally, Stacy — athletic and tanned as always, even in the winter. They turned to face the wall, squatted ever so slightly, and pulled down their bottoms to reveal their rear ends, buttholes barely squinting out of specially-cut holes in their panties, above which was written in a flowery cursive, Daddy. And so, it began.
---
But how had this all actually come to be? It still blew Brian's mind every day how his once rebellious teenage daughters had ended up so submissive to dad. It had started with his divorce. He and his new partner, Vanessa, had been trying for awhile to have another kid, as if six wasn't enough! But Vanessa had really wanted a child of her own, so they had gone through all sorts of measures.
The end result of this process had been him sneaking down around midnight with his specimen, stored in an egg-yolk medium container — specially designed for desperate situations just like this one — to place it in the freezer, as the fertilization lab was closed for the night. As usual, he had hid it at the very back of the freezer in his secret spot.
When he had come down the next morning for breakfast, he found that his kids had absolutely ravaged the freezer making breakfast smoothies, and the container was nowhere to be found. His girls were all on a health kick, working out together and in remarkable shape by this point. He turned to look at them sitting around the kitchen table, their lips frothy with smoothie, their glasses empty, talking about their latest Instagram posts, when he saw, to his horror, by the blender, his empty container.
"Why'd you buy egg yolks dad?" Carling piped up, seeing his horrified stare wandering over there.
"You joining us on the health kick?" Erin laughed, wiping her mouth.
"Sorry, we needed a bit of a protein boost," Darah said. "Especially for today, we're doing squats after class."
"We'd be happy to get you some more though — " Hope cooed to him playfully.
"—when we go grocery shopping later," Christine added, as usual.
"We gotta run for uni though now, talk later dad, love you!" cried Stacy.
And with that, they were gone, and luckily, they didn't catch that he still had the same horrified look on his face as when he had first noticed the empty container. This was an accident of epic proportions, and the ramifications were hitting him in a steady stream. Had he just ruined any semblance of a normal relationship with his daughters, each of whom he loved so much? Had he just defiled his own flesh and blood? Had he inadvertently traumatized his daughters forever? Had he committed a crime? Had they?
But as time usually does, it lessened the horror of the accident in the coming days. He still thought about it constantly, but realized there was nothing to be done about it now, and nobody would ever have to know. Moreover, at a physical level, the amount of his sperm his daughters had accidentally ingested, split among 6 of them, must have been minute. Small enough to pass through their systems in the blink of an eye and let the episode be completely forgotten. One day they might all be able to laugh about it? Worst case scenario it was kind of just like a mother breastfeeding her kids, just the male version and a little delayed — and so, on and on his rationalizations went.
But the problem was that after the accident, his daughters started behaving differently. He noticed they pestered Darah, the chef of that morning's smoothie, constantly about her recipe. Every morning, it was like they were chasing the dragon of this perfect smoothie, tasting the new batch always with a look of disappointment.
Moreover, they had started behaving differently. Under the discerning gaze of their loving father, they had started wearing skimpier and skimpier clothing, their skirts slowly moving up their thighs, their jeans a little tighter around their bums, cleavage spilling out more from their blouses. And he overhead among their everyday chatter that even Darah was starting to struggle a bit in classes, and that each was having trouble focusing of late.
One morning, Darah finally remarked that maybe it had somehow been dad's egg yolks that had made the smoothie special, and their questions turned to him. Of course, he hadn't divulged the secret, but as they pestered him, he realized that he better invent some kind of alibi to divert any suspicion. Finally, he relented that he had gotten them from a local farmer's market, a secret one though.
"Mmm, organic" Carling murmured.
"Farm to table" Erin said, licking her lips.
The girls were in awe. They demanded more, and how could he say no? He went to the grocery store the next morning, bought some plain old egg whites, put them in the fertilization container, and handed them to his eager sextuplets. But still, they noticed something was off. Different. He had never seen this kind of greedy hunger in anybody the way his girls chased the taste of his seed. They glared at him all through breakfast, and were cold the rest of the day. Darah, the most studious of them all, failed a test.
It was when he heard them whispering in Erin's room about reasons why dad wouldn't provide the egg yolks that a twisted and desperate plan began to form in his head. It began to crystallize even further when one of his girls mentioned bringing up the whole "suspicious" affair to Vanessa. He realized there was no way he could allow his new partner to get involved in this horrible accident.
The next morning he had the egg whites. Like he had said before, it really was a minute amount... and male breastfeeding and stuff... probably some health benefits? He had done it once, so there was no going back. His daughters were clearly suffering without the stuff — Darah could lose her scholarship — and he would do anything for them — really anything, even this admittedly sick act. But they didn't have to know. It was probably just like everything with them, a phase, like Ed Sheeran or Riverdale. It would all be over soon...
But his daughters each had 2 glasses of smoothie that morning, and left for university with a definite glow about them. Over the coming days, his desperate plan quickly became even more desperate. The girls were soon drinking the smoothies breakfast, lunch and dinner, and his supplies were constantly running low, till one day, he simply couldn't produce. The well was dry.
That morning, his daughters started groping at him, pawing at him, tugging his arm to give them some or divulge where he had bought them, to his protestations.
It was at that moment that suddenly Darah raised a finger to her nose.
"This is weird, but I smell them," she had said.
"What?" cried Hope.
"Where?" cried Christine.
"Are you holding out on us dad?" Stacy pointed at him accusingly. "Don't you care about my gains?"
"And my straight A's?" Darah complained.
They started rummaging through his pockets, grabbing at him, till Darah knelt down in front of him, right by his crotch — highly inappropriate — and pronounced, "It's coming from right here."
"Those must be some good egg yolks to hide in your drawers," said Carling.
His daughters were ravenous — he was completely disturbed by this situation, but unwillingly, he was also rock-hard, from all the female hands running all over his body.
"He definitely has something in his pants," Erin accused.
"Looks like—" Carling whispered
"—silly, that's too big to be that."
"Yeah, tough luck C if you're expecting that for your first time."
"It's definitely a container," Darah said, propping up her glasses. "Got you dad," she smirked as she pulled down Brian's shorts.
Out sprung dad's cock, engorged to immense proportions, its thick 12 inches completely rigid and swollen with veins, its head standing angrily at attention.
