Family Holiday

Set in the world of my novel - Rise of the Church: Zadie's Journey - and the ensuing anthology.

The church featured in this fictional story is a fictional organisation.

All characters are over 18.

Continue reading if you like stories that feature incest - something that I do not condone in real life.

Please enjoy!

***

Family Holiday

Hazel struggled to feel enthused about the sights that her parents were dragging her around the capital city to see. The boring old buildings, town squares and statues were not so different to many others she'd seen many times before. She enjoyed the local cuisine, though, and she was looking forward to dinner. All the walking gave her a ravenous appetite - she loved her food on a normal day, and people often commented on her ability to eat so much while remaining so small and compact.

One thing had fascinated her since she had arrived in the country: the disregard among the female population for physical modesty. She could quite reliably tell at a glance which women were locals; they looked so comfortable in their barely covered bodies that she couldn't help but envy them. Her father, John, had requested that she go braless to fit in with the local culture, and she had complied, but she felt very self-conscious despite still being more clothed than the majority.

'Dad, stop perving!' said Hazel. 'I thought we were here to look at the cathedral!'

John snapped his eyes away from an attractive young lady in a sheer dress. 'I'm not perving; there are women whichever way I look.'

'Your eyes were following that girl for a while.'

John tutted and took a picture of the cathedral across the square.

Hazel turned to her mother, Susan, and spoke in hushed tones. 'Isn't that annoying you? He keeps doing it.'

'It must be overwhelming for him,' she said with an easy smile. 'You don't see women dressed like that at home.'

'That doesn't make it alright.'

Susan watched her husband take a few photos of the square and its many beautiful visitors. 'I've given him a free pass for the holiday. The culture is part of the experience.'

'Maybe he should remember it's not our culture, though.'

Susan glanced at her daughter's chest. 'It's good to see you partaking in it. He appreciates that.'

Hazel realised that her pert nipples were conspiring to draw as much attention to themselves as was physically possible beneath her cropped windbreaker. She shifted the smooth material, pulled the zipper fully to the top and neatened her hood. John had bought her the little jacket, along with her short skater skirt and high heels, for the holiday. The outfit was a popular look, especially in the city, as it emulated the uniforms of the convent girls of the prominent Secular Church of Acceptance, or the SCoA.

Her mother grinned at her. 'You'll get used to it soon enough. Most girls don't even wear anything underneath their jackets.'

'That's crazy,' said Hazel, sliding her hand under the satin material of her windbreaker to touch the soft cotton crop top beneath. 'They must accidentally flash their boobs all the time!'

'And their other girly bits.'

'They don't even wear panties?' said Hazel, her mouth agape.

Susan grinned and gestured toward a young woman in an outfit similar to Hazel's who was bending forward to stroke a friendly dog. Her skirt had ridden up to expose her entire rear, and her lustrous jacket was too small to conceal the underbellies of her hanging breasts.

'Oh my God,' said Hazel, her eyes fixed on the perfectly exposed, bald pussy and puckered sphincter. 'She must know—'

'I don't think she cares,' said Susan, smirking at John as he pointed his camera in the direction of the flashing girl.

Hazel shook her head in disbelief. She heard a frustrated exhalation from her father when the girl straightened up, and she guessed that he hadn't managed to capture the shot in time.

The three of them wandered around the exterior of the Cathedral, John taking far more pictures than necessary and delightedly glimpsing several more instances of public exposure. He suggested that they sit at a bar by the river and watch the world go by - Hazel had no doubt that his true intention was to continue his voyeurism with a beer. The flow of alluring young women was even greater along the promenade, and his eyes darted constantly from one to another as he sipped his beverage.

Hazel played on her phone as her father chatted with her mother, and she paid no attention as he wrapped his arm around her and draped his hand over her shoulder. She barely noticed it inching down to the point that it was resting platonically on her chest, but after a while, she became aware that he was caressing her breast with very minute movements. She pulled a face and glanced at him, but he was facing away and conversing with his wife, possibly unaware of what his own hand was doing. Hazel snorted softly and returned her attention to her phone, deciding that her father's transgression was unintentional.

When he began to rub her chest with more directed movements, she sighed and said, 'Dad, are you aware you're literally groping my boob?'

'Oh, sorry,' he said with a laugh. 'I just like the smooth texture of this windbreaker.' He put down his beer and caressed her chest with both hands. 'It's so silky and soft!'

'Oh my God,' she said, batting his hands away. 'Mum, are you actually letting him do this?'

'He's harmless,' she said with a smile. 'We're on holiday in the land of the SCoA - loosen up a little.'

Hazel snorted and shook her head, sitting back and looking around, expecting to see some disgusted faces as her father returned his hands to her soft chest. On the contrary, his shenanigans were attracting nothing more than a few barely interested smiles, and she realised how truly alien the local culture was. John soon picked up his beer again, leaving the original hand to casually fondle her breast, and she eventually found that she was able to zone out and ignore the bizarre violation - why should she be bothered if no one else was?

***

A couple of days passed, and Hazel was getting used to her father's wandering hands; she no longer complained when he felt her chest, and she even started to feel a comforting sense of protection when his strong arm enveloped her small shoulders. Even more strangely, she began to think of her breasts as belonging to him as much as to her, and it felt right when his big hands enveloped them.

'Your nipples are really hard today,' said John, looking down at his daughter as his fingers circled the erect nub.

Hazel looked down at his animated hand. 'You're so cheeky!'

Susan ignored them and continued reading the plaque explaining the ornate fountain that they were visiting.

'Let's have a selfie,' said John, turning his daughter around to get the fountain in the background.

Hazel smiled prettily, letting him hold her breast as he took the picture.

'Can I get another one like this?' he said, unzipping her little windbreaker and shifting the material aside to nicely frame her breasts under the tiny, white crop top.

Hazel rolled her eyes but gave another smile as he took a few more shots, his hand casually fondling her breast and rolling a prominent nipple between finger and thumb. To her embarrassment, he accosted a passer-by to take yet more pictures.

John handed the stranger his camera and positioned himself behind Hazel. He wrapped his arms around her and hooked his fingers under the hem of her crop top.

'Hey!' she yelled, grabbing his hands as he tried to pull the little garment up. 'What are you doing?'

'I don't just want us to remember the places we've seen,' he said, maintaining his grasp on the soft fabric, 'but how beautiful you were when we saw them!'

She put all her effort into prizing his hands off her, but he was utterly immovable. 'Why does that have to involve my tits?'

'I want to remember your full beauty - not just your beautiful face but your other beautiful features, too! Come on - let's immerse ourselves in the culture!'

Hazel sighed and relaxed.

'Thank you,' he said, kissing the top of her head and lifting the cotton fabric. 'Wow, they're quite big these days, aren't they!'

'Oh my God,' she said as he exposed her full breasts. 'This is so humiliating.'

'This means a lot to me,' he said cupping her unblemished tits and pushing them together, his thumbs passing repeatedly over her already pert nipples. 'Thank you.'

'Don't you want to get mum's boobs out?'

'Yours are prettier than mine,' said Susan, leaning her head against John's shoulder and smiling as the stranger snapped some pictures.

'Thanks very much,' said John, massaging his daughter's breasts as the other man checked the photos he had just taken. 'Would you like a feel? It's the least I can do for interrupting your day.'

'Now there's an offer I can't refuse,' said the stranger, greedily appraising Hazel's lovely chest as he handed the camera back.

Hazel gave an exasperated sigh and shook her head again as her father pulled her arms behind her back, ensuring the other man's unobstructed enjoyment of her breasts.

The stranger glanced at John as he kneaded the soft flesh. 'They're really nice.'

John chuckled lightly and kissed his daughter's ear. 'Good girl - you're fitting in so well.'

Hazel gave a short exhalation and shook her head again, but she couldn't help feeling a hint of pride and even a little thrill. She couldn't remember the last time her father had given her such earnest and heartfelt praise - it was a joy to hear, and it helped to temper her annoyance toward his outrageous handling of her body.

'I can't believe how beautiful they are,' said John, commandeering his daughter's breasts again once the stranger had gone.

Hazel gave an exasperated smile as her father squashed her young tits together and kissed her nipples, forcefully sucking each into his mouth and leaving them glistening with his saliva.

'Okay, that's enough for now,' said Susan after she had captured the moment in a few photos.

John straightened up and took a last, lingering look at his exposed daughter. 'I'm so proud of you.'

Hazel was taken aback by the passion in his voice, and she didn't resist when he lifted her chin and pressed his lips against hers. In a daze, she returned the long, deep kiss until her mother broke them up, insisting that it was time to return to the hotel and prepare for their evening meal.

'Let's not be exposing our daughter in the restaurant,' said Susan as she kicked off her shoes by the door. 'I think she's had enough for the day.'

'I'll have to get it out of my system now, then,' said John, unzipping his daughter's windbreaker.

'No,' said Susan, slapping his hands away from Hazel's chest, 'we need to get ready - our table is booked.'

'We can make a compromise,' he said, leading Hazel to his still-unsorted suitcase and retrieving a small garment. 'Try this on - you can wear it tonight.'

'Can't I just wear my own clothes for once?' said Hazel, holding the item up for appraisal. 'It's see-through!'

'I know! Try it on!'

'I'm starting to think we went on this holiday just so you could play with my boobs,' she said, retiring to her room.

'We're here to immerse ourselves in the culture!' he said as she shut the door.

Hazel removed her jacket and pulled her crop top over her head before studying her little body in the long mirror by her bed. She wondered what it was about the two fatty protrusions on her chest that men - including her father - found so irresistible. She watched her reflection as she pushed them together and gave them a squeeze. No... the appeal would forever be beyond her comprehension.

She sighed and donned the new top before checking herself out again. She rolled her eyes at the sight - the dainty floral patterns covering her chest did nothing to conceal her nipples and areolae - but she found herself striking a sexy pose and staring for a lingering moment. Despite herself, she felt sexier than she ever had, but she felt some trepidation toward going out with so much on show.

'You bought this for me, just for this holiday?' she said, re-emerging and raising an eyebrow at her dad.

'It doesn't have to be only for this holiday,' he said with an appreciative smile, his eyes flicking between her pink teats.

'When am I ever going to wear it? I can't go out in it at home.'

'You can wear it around the house,' he said, gently tweaking a pert nipple.

Hazel laughed. 'We're going straight back to normal when we go home.'

'John, you need to get ready,' said Susan, already in her more formal evening dress. 'Get into your suit.'

'Wait,' said Hazel, 'is that the sort of place we're going to? Like, posh?'

'Don't worry,' said John, releasing his daughter's tits. 'They make allowances for young ladies like yourself. Anyway, you do look smart.'

Hazel wore her little windbreaker for the walk to the restaurant, despite her father's pleas to forego an outer layer. When they arrived, though, she couldn't bring herself to remove it, and she attracted some funny looks as she followed the prim waiter to a linen-draped table in the middle of a fancy dining area.

'You look more out of place with your jacket on,' said John, leaning over the table and trying to unzip the satin garment.

'Leave her alone,' said Susan, squeezing her husband's leg. 'She's not as comfortable with SCoA culture as you thought.'

John sighed, turned his attention to the wine menu for a moment, and looked back at his daughter. 'It's customary for young women to thank the chef before the meal if you'd like to do that.'

Hazel frowned. 'Shouldn't that be after we've eaten? Why me?'

'It's different here. You're the only young woman among us.'

'Do I have to?'

'I don't want my family to seem impolite, especially in an establishment like this. People already think we're rude for letting you keep your jacket on.'

Hazel huffed. 'Where do I go?'

John pointed at an open door. 'To the kitchen.'

Hazel reluctantly made her way over and loitered at the indicated doorway.

'Can I help you?' said a waiter, his eyes flicking from her face to her sheeny jacket.

'My dad wants me to thank the chef,' she said, shrinking into herself.

'Well, we'll want to get you out of this,' he said, casually unzipping her windbreaker and sliding it off her shoulders. Barely registering her exhibited areolae, he led her through the doorway and to a small, unoccupied room, where he unceremoniously lifted her sheer top and exposed her breasts.

'Hey!'

He extracted an oily substance from a dispenser on the wall. 'Something wrong?'

'What the hell is happening?' she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

The waiter paused, a pool of oil in his cupped hand. 'Sorry, did you say you were here to thank the chef?'

'Yes!'

'Let's get on with it, then. If you'd please lower your arms.'

Hazel stared at him for a couple of moments before complying.

He rubbed his hands together and cupped her breasts; she gasped but let him massage the oil into her soft chest.

'This way, please,' he said, wiping his hands on a flannel.

Hazel stared between her naked breaks at her feet, avoiding the gazes of the various workers as she followed the man through the kitchen.

'A young lady here to give her thanks,' said the waiter, stopping her by a large, slightly rotund bloke.

'Ah, aren't you a delight!' said the head chef, turning from the large pan and the sizzling meat to knead her glossy breasts, his fingers gliding over the slick skin and digging into the soft flesh. 'You're not from these parts, are you?'

'No, I'm on holiday,' said Hazel, not looking up from his dancing fingers and her glinting bosom.

'This must be strange for you,' said the chef with a kind smile, 'so I won't help myself to your more intimate parts. Thank you for paying me a visit, though - that was very thoughtful of you.'

Hazel managed a half-smile and continued watching as he manipulated her young breasts into a seemingly limitless variety of funny shapes. She was becoming quite comfortable with his incessant fondling when he gently slapped her bottom and returned to his pan, the contents of which were starting to smoke.

'I'll make sure I pay special attention to your meal,' said the chef, giving her shoulder a squeeze before nodding at the waiter.

'This way, please,' said the waiter, taking her by the arm.

She pulled her top back down as he led her back toward the restaurant area.

John had a silly grin glued to his face as he watched his daughter return to the table. 'Did he like you?'

She looked down at her chest, wondering if people could tell that it was covered in oil beneath the sheer fabric. 'I guess so.'

'Did you let him see your private parts?'

'He didn't ask to see them.'

John frowned. 'Oh. You sure you saw him?'

'Maybe it was someone pretending to be him.'

John gave his daughter a searching look.

'The head chef would like to show you his appreciation,' said the waiter, appearing with a small tray and two glasses of wine. 'The house red.' He placed the glasses in front of John and Susan. 'On the house.'

John's face lit up. 'Ah, I hope the chef enjoyed her!'

Hazel shook her head at her dad. 'You could've told me what they'd do to me.'

'Would you have gone?'

Hazel snorted and looked at the menu.

John raised his glass to his wife. 'Cheers!'

***

'What a beautiful sunset,' said Susan, aiming the camera over the cityscape.

They were huddling on a bench, their backs to the old, hilltop fort; the panorama was what they had come for.

'Get in the shot, Hazel,' said John urging her off the bench, 'and open your jacket.'

'It's cold,' she said, resisting the hand pressing against her back. 'Don't you have enough pictures of me now?'

'This view will be so much more memorable with you in it,' he said, unzipping her little windbreaker and tickling under her arms.

Hazel squealed and sprang to her feet. 'Fine!'

She let the jacket hang off her shoulders - it had a delicate sheen in the fading, golden light. She looked quite innocent with her hands clasped in front of her, despite her puffy areolae and stiff nipples being clearly definable under the pretty, floral fabric.

'Maybe you could try a more, uh, grown-up pose,' said John with a laugh.

Hazel stuck out her chest a little more. 'Like this?'

'Stick your arse out too!'

Hazel rolled her eyes as she complied. 'I feel ridiculous!'

'You look amazing.'

'Right, that's enough,' said Hazel, returning to the bench. 'Let me see.'

She had to admit: other than the photos in which she was blinking or looking away, she did look pretty good. She handed the camera back to her mother and retrieved her phone, launching into a painstaking effort to take a selfie with the main landmarks positioned perfectly behind her. She struggled to get the lighting just right and became quite frustrated with the device's tendency to either darken the background too much or silhouette her, and she was determined to capture the city in its full glory while also showing off her revealing outfit.

John began to stroke his daughter's legs, appreciating her smooth skin and supple musculature, and allowing his hands to venture higher and higher. She appeared to be so engrossed in her task that she was unaware of his increasingly audacious explorations, and he was able to freely enjoy the super-soft skin at the upper limit of her inner thighs.

Hazel was uploading her pictures to her social media when she realised that her father was pulling down her silky panties. 'Hey! What are you doing?'