Family Secrets Ch 01 6

WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS VIOLENCE AND EMOTIONAL TRAUMA.

DISCLAIMER: Chapter One, is 9500 words of world-building, and character development, involving comparatively little sex. IT IS ALSO A HIGHLY REDACTED VERSION OF WHAT I WANTED TO PRESENT TO YOU. Although there had been NO underage sex in the first version of the story, the moderators felt it had violated a rule involving 'an underage person's body development and other people's reaction to it.' As you read this I hope you can picture why the parents of our heroine may have been concerned about her non-sexual development without my spelling it out in the story. Sorry for the watering down of the plot. :( Although I do understand their side of the legal issue.

I also realize this story could have been placed in several other categories including First-Time, Non-Human, Erotic-Horror, or SciFi/Fantasy. I chose Incest/Taboo because that is where the sex will be most prevalent.

All characters involved in sexual activity are over the age of eighteen at the time of the activity.

Family Secrets (Ch1)

A story by R.C.PeterGabriel all rights reserved.

It is said, that every girl develops a crush on her dad at some point in her life. I don't know how true that is, because I never did. Sure, I thought he was handsome, empathetic, caring, strong, and protective. He had also inherited a big chunk of land and money from his grandparents and makes more than enough to maintain what we have, so yes, he's a good provider as well. My mother and I were lucky to have him. I suppose in hindsight, I should have had those feelings but I just never did.

We have a huge tract of mostly forested land with our own private lake. It isn't big enough to ski on but almost. As the crow flies, our closest neighbor is a little over three miles away. But between the peaks and fast-moving river that divides our properties, it's way easier to take the road. By road, the trip is closer to seven.

Our only other neighbor is a national wildlife preserve that is larger than most national parks. I guess the designation works out because people don't visit preserves like they do parks. On the far side of that are the Canadian border and more undeveloped land that I'm told belongs to distant relatives.

To say I live among some of the world's most beautiful and untouched land is an understatement. To say that I'd wanted to crawl out of the sticks since before third or fourth grade is also an understatement. Although I've since learned to embrace my surroundings, that doesn't mean I appreciated what I had as a child.

It took just over an hour to get to school by bus and that's if the bus is running all the way to my stop. Yes, the satellite dish allowed me to keep up with my school work but missing seventy percent of the in-class time meant that I've always been considered an outsider. You have no idea how lonely it is to be considered less of a friend to someone you've known since kindergarten than they are to someone that moved to town a few months before.

That isn't to say that I've had no friends. The few I have had, tend to be into sports. They also tend to be guys. That's because I look like your typical magazine cover cheerleader. You know, too hot to be approachable. I never really saw it until my mom made me do a comparison with all the other girls in my yearbook. What can I say, I was graced with good genes, even if I didn't always believe it. That being said, I'm not the statuesque model type. I am a petite 5'-2", with blond hair and ice-blue eyes that I got from my mother. My dad gave me enough athleticism to make me scary good at any sport I try.

The combination meant that the guys all wanted to be on my team so they could perv on me while claiming they had won the game. It also means none of them tried to date me. Not that that matters now. Anyway, I got the feeling the reason I wasn't datable was either they thought I was just one of the guys, or their egos were so small they didn't want to go out with a girl that could so easily outplay them. The only other possibility I could think of at the time was that the distance to my house was a deal breaker. I later found out that there had been some "discouragements" made on my behalf. I'll get into that later. As it turns out, my genes are the reason for those discouragements and are the reason my world got so fucked up.

Regardless of why I was shunned, I eventually took the hint and left most of the team stuff behind in favor of long-distance running. I know, it's an unusual sport for someone of my height. It's just that running seems like home. And as a bonus, I don't have to put up with the groping that was pretending to be a celebratory hug or a butt slap. It also means I could still train on days the bus didn't run because of the rain, snow, or the occasional fallen tree making the road impassable.

My Mom and Dad loved to run too. We would often take to one of the many trails around our property or in the reserve. Although my parents had a tendency to fall behind. I used to think it was because they were too old and just couldn't keep up. That was until I decided to circle back one day and caught them dogging it up. I was too far away to see any details and the thought of watching my parents have sex just didn't do it for me. So no, I didn't get a look at my Dad's cock and suddenly find my hand down my pants wishing it was me getting dogged.

Let's just say that from that point on, if we got separated, I didn't try to find them. But yes, if truth be told, I was a little jealous. Not that I wanted to replace my mom or anything. I was jealous of the obvious friendship they had. They were well and truly married and their love for one another was never in doubt. I was jealous of the relationship and wished I knew what it felt like.

Of course, my mother and I would talk often. With my having missed so much school, we more or less had to. We got along great though, even better than most mother/ daughter relationships. I considered her my best friend. It almost always seemed to me that she loved me without reservation. I felt the same thing from my dad, but he separated himself a little more than my mom. Regardless, I loved them both with complete trust and respect. I even managed to avoid the rebellious 'I hate you/foot stomping/door slamming stage' and the 'exaggerated eye roll stage'.

There were only two times in my life when things got weird. Well, between the three of us anyway. To be honest, the first thing on my list was less of a time and more like it was part of our way of life. By not having spent any time at other kids' houses, I didn't even realize it had been weird until later.

From my earliest memories, my parents were constantly hugging me and smelling me. They insisted they were simply searching for hints into whether or not I was going to be afflicted by a genetic trait that was common in the family. They refused to say specifically what that trait might have been, only that they very much needed to be aware of it for everyone's safety if I did.

They did say that the trait always caused those afflicted to give off a distinctive odor, and explained that if it manifested, it almost always did so during puberty. That the dramatic changes the body goes through force the trait to show itself. They apologized over and over again for trying to hide it from me, but never actually explained how the trait would affect me if I had it. Needless to say, as time went on, I didn't seem any different than any other kid.

When I made it into my teens and I hadn't grown an extra head or two, my parents, both seemed to slowly relax around me. My parents, on the other hand, seemed to be touching ALL the time and developed a need to go running... a lot. I started purposely running on trails that would send me in the opposite direction.

As the years passed, I found myself running trails all the way through the reserve. One day, I paused to look out over a ridge and was treated to the sight of two wolves playing below me. The female was simply beautiful, with a white coat and bright icy blue eyes that could be seen all the way from my vantage point. The male was huge and obviously alfa. His coat was varied with darker browns along his back that transitioned to red on his mussel, belly, and legs.

I watched the pair roll, chase, and pounce on each other for several minutes before they mated. When they finished they nuzzled tenderly before darting off at a frightening pace. I've always regretted not having my camera with me that day.

I know, haven't I ever heard of a cell phone? Of course, I have but there's no signal anywhere near our property. So, I don't bother carrying one unless I'm headed into town. Anyway, the experience was beautiful and unforgettable but I still wish I had a camera. Looking back, I cherish the experience but thinking about it always brings me to tears.

The second thing that struck me as weird didn't take me very long to notice. It was a month after my nineteenth birthday. I had driven into town for provisions and as fate would have it I was t-boned. Neither of us had been going fast but when a jeep is hit on the driver's door and the intersecting road slopes steeply away below you on the passenger side, you're going to roll. I'm told I did it five times, with one of them completely airborne. I ended up with my roof on the hood of a parked car. The hospital staff was amazed I hadn't broken every bone in my body. Although, I was battered into a fairly consistent color of deep purple.

I guess a car crash isn't really that weird, but my father's reaction was. While I would have expected him to be overjoyed that I was more or less okay, that wasn't what I got.

He rushed into the ER exam room, straight to my side, and started sniffing me from head to toe. "Oh my God. No! Not now!" was whispered before rushing back out again. I was left totally confused. But being, like I said, confused, and on some really nice painkillers, I only mumbled "What?" instead of calling after him.

Anyway, It wasn't long before I heard arguing going on just outside of my curtain, and several people, including a trauma Dr, two nurses, and an administrator soon managed to crowd into the small space. They were all trying to convince my very agitated dad that it was not only highly dangerous for me to be discharged at that time but it wasn't his choice since I was over eighteen. I have no idea how the next several days went because I chose that moment to succumb to the pain meds.

I woke up in a private room with my mom and dad pacing in what little space they were allotted. The second they noticed I was awake, they both insisted that I get dressed and demand to be discharged.

Long story, short, I was being forcibly dressed by my mother while my father paced and looked even more distraught. Okay, yes I was confused again, but REALLY? "Well, hello to you too! Mom, Dad, I'm fine by the way. How are you?"

So there I was confused and uncooperative when Dad stepped up and locked eyes with me. "Remember when you were younger and we kept trying to smell a new scent on you?" That did it. I knew why they were so worried. The trauma of my accident had activated the 'genetic trait' that had worried them so much. Because I trusted my parents I started cooperating in my extraction from the hospital. Of course, I was only allowed to leave after signing a release of liability and an acknowledgment that I was discharging myself "Against Medical Advice".

On the way home I asked what this all meant. They hadn't told me anything back when I was nine and they weren't being very informative now either. I would have been totally pissed if my mother hadn't been looking back and forth between me and my dad with an ashen completion and a fearful expression in her eyes. Still, I was about to make demands when I caught my dad's face in the rearview mirror and saw a tear fall from his red-rimmed eyes.

I had never in my life seen him sad, let alone cry. That tear clamped my mouth shut better than a whole tube of superglue. I knew that whatever this was, it was beyond bad. I still had no idea what to expect but now I was terrified.

As soon as we got home I was ushered to the kitchen's breakfast bar and told to sit. I did, while Dad went to the walk-in and pulled out a big plastic tub of deer meat that hadn't yet been properly butchered for freezing. Mom had put on an apron and turned on the stovetop to heat up a pan but then pulled the big cutting board from under the kitchen island. They were moving with purpose but still hadn't started explaining anything.

As I watched Dad pull the heart and liver from the crate, Mom set a plate, knife, and fork in front of me but wasn't setting a place for themselves. A few seconds later I sat stunned as Dad used a carving knife with the precision of a master chef and the speed of a lawn mower to cut the liver into one-eighth-inch thick slices. He pushed the carved meat onto a plate and handed it to Mom before setting out to carve up the heart.

At that point, I'm pretty sure I was too stunned to even consider asking what was going on. Before I knew it, Dad was working on carving the rest of the meat into steaks and Mom was lifting several lightly pan-fried strips of liver onto my plate. When I say lightly pan-fried, what I mean is that she kind of seared the outsides and that was it. The inside was still raw.

I liked deer meat well enough but I shy away from the organs even though Dad had insisted that they held the most nutrition. I started to complain but my Dad simply commanded that I eat. It wasn't the demand of an annoyed father, this was something else. There had been an undertone of authority that vibrated along my spine and into my guts. I had a choice to either eat what was put in front of me or challenge his authority. My guts were screaming "Eat it, I don't want to die" while my head was saying "I'm starved, why not?", so I started eating.

Now if you'd asked me the day before my crash if I would eat mostly raw liver, I would have laughed at you. When the barely warmed meat hit my tongue, I heard myself growl before swallowing the slice whole. The next thing I knew, I was suddenly aware of every ache, every muscle pull, and every bruise in my body. They didn't really hurt because I was still sailing on pain meds but I was aware of them. Before I knew what was happening, I was shoveling slice after slice into my mouth.

Every bite was a balm to my injuries and soon I wasn't even giving my Mom time to sear the meat at all. I took the plate from her and ate the entire liver. Moments later I had forgone the use of my fork and had snatched the plate of heart meat from my Dad. I barely remember eating it but suddenly there I was, licking a deer's heart blood from my fingers. "WHAT THE FUCK?!!"

I sat big-eyed, unable to keep switching glances between my bloody hands, my Dad's grim expression, and my Mom's 'how do I tell my baby she's got cancer' look.

"Um, Mom?" I pleaded in terrified desperation.

My Dad put a hand on my Mom's to stop her from speaking before he started to talk. When he did he had a calmness to his voice that didn't match the situation. It was almost like when he told me to eat. I felt it, but this time instead of putting urgency into my guts, it was like a caress. "We will explain everything in a few minutes. I promise. But first, you need to finish healing. If you're not whole when I explain things, you will probably not accept the reality of it, and when the time comes it won't be good for any of us."

Then without ceremony, he handed me a twenty-eight-ounce slab of venison, without bothering with a plate. I felt a tear roll down my cheek as I stared at enough meat to feed a family of four. Raw meat at that.

In my head, my emotions were screaming "WHAT THE FUCK?" over and over and over! The 'me' part of my mind kept staring at the meat and thinking, "You just eat an entire heart and liver, you can't possibly consider eating that." And then there was a part of myself that I had just met. It sniffed the meat and thought "Fresh but cold. It would be better warm." At the same time, it knew of every injury I had. It was like some kind of magic database that just knew the location and extent of each wound. It knew how each one would affect me while moving, running, cornering ... hunting! That new part of me also knew that if I ate, I would heal. My stomach rumbled ... I ate.

I'm not sure how long I ate, or how much. When I realized that all of my wounds had fully healed, I glanced at the tote Dad had pulled from the cooler and found it staggeringly close to being empty. How could I? My parents must have had some. I'm a hundred-five pounds soaking wet, there's no way! Then I heard or felt, or I don't know, knew from the new part of me that said, "Yes, I ate it all and it was good. I am now healthy, and strong." The thought made me want to vomit. Instead, I tried to shake off the confusing tumble of thoughts.

I glanced at Mom and found that she had been crying. When she noticed that I was looking at her she swiped a few tears from her face and tried to look brave. What she gave me instead, was the look of a mom that completely and totally loved her daughter. The look of a mom that would sacrifice her life to save her little girl.

Before I could say anything she had pulled me into a tight hug and wouldn't let me go. It was several minutes before I realized that she was sobbing into my hair, and suddenly I was sobbing just as hard. I could feel it. I just knew. She was saying goodbye!

My heart was torn in two and I released a long agonized moaning lament. I didn't want her to go. Why would she leave me? Then the thought hit me, maybe it wasn't my mom that was leaving. I still didn't know what was happening to me. I might be dying. But how could I be? I'm whole, I'm healthy, I'm strong!

As those thoughts tumbled through my head, Dad put a hand on my shoulder. The contact brought with it an awareness of the forest around our house and a half dozen pain-filled howls filling the air.

Wolves!

I had believed there were wolves running our lands but other than the one pair that I had spotted far to the north in the reserve, I hadn't actually seen any. But there was definitely several spread out around us, singing out a chorus of pain and loss.

I looked up into my Dad's eyes. "They know our pain. They mourn for one of you."

My grief was suddenly gone as confusion returned in full force. Why would wolves feel us? Why are they even here? Wait, did you say one of us? Why don't they know which one to mourn for? But, either way, that means one of us is going to die!

I pushed my Mom back to arm's length before back-peddling into the counter. I suddenly felt hot ... trapped. I pulled at my clothes. I was having trouble breathing. My mind was a whirlwind of confusion and I made a break for the door. I wanted out but at some point, it had gotten dark out. The glass of the sliding door reflected my parents and I spun. How could they be in two places?

My mother's near panicked voice was yelling, "It's happening too fast. She's stronger than we thought. There's no time, she's going to change!"

Dad's voice slid along my spine trying to calm me, trying to bring 'me' to the front of my mind. I was in a battle with myself. I wanted to run away, to get out! I felt like I was coming apart at the seams! None of this could be real! I had to focus, and Dad's voice was something I could focus on. I met his eyes, knowing full well mine were shouting "HELP ME, DADDY!"

"Layci, Sweetheart listen closely, we have no time! I was hoping this wouldn't happen for another few days but it's going to happen any moment! You have to try to let your body go while keeping your thoughts as human as possible! I know you won't succeed and none of this is your fault! No matter what happens, just know that this is not your fault!"