The Star of Their Smut

"I could do the 27th if it works for you." said Melissa. "You can meet my boyfriend."

"He's coming down here?" I asked, surprised. He was new on the scene, and I didn't expect him to have Christmas privileges already.

"Only for a couple of days. He wants to meet my parents."

"The 27th works for me. I'll probably have plans on Boxing Day." I answered.

We were in a taxi home after our first night out since the summer. Melissa is based in London now and a few months deep with this new beau of hers. She falls quickly and deeply in love but the feedback on this was better than usual. We had spent the night catching up after a few more forlorn months apart but were a lot more sober than we usually were on the journey home. We couldn't be getting too old for hangovers. Not at 21.

We were close to pulling up at her parents' house when she finally faced the elephant in the room head on. "By the way, this new era of yours." she teased. "You can't be wearing dresses like that around my boyfriend."

We laughed together. She is not the jealous type at all, so she was only playing. There's nothing to be worried about when you're a pretty as she is. I was wearing a short and black bodycon dress that clung to me. You could call it figure hugging or form fitting if you wanted. Tight as fuck works too. It really wasn't my style, but I was trying something out. "I think this might be a one time thing." I replied, but she was quick to change her original stance and argue the opposite.

"Oh no, it looks amazing!" she assured me. "You look so good. I thought the farm girl phase was going to last forever."

"Don't disrespect my dungarees."

"I'm only kidding. You make them work like no one else."

"Never forget that." I said, leaning in to hug her before she clambered out onto the pavement. We exchanged our mutual love a few times before she shut the door, and then she blew kisses at me until the car was out of view. Going to different universities hadn't been able to pry us apart. At times she was the only thing keeping me sane, even if she didn't know it.

My phone vibrated and revealed a text from one of the guys I exchanged numbers with earlier in the night. Part of me had planned to get laid to let off some steam before the weekend that was ahead of me, but it was much more exciting to hold myself in this perpetual state of arousal until the pay off my mind and body desired most.

The dress was just an experiment. I didn't need to prove to anyone how sexy I am. Not even to myself. There was a time I wasn't so confident when it came to that sort of stuff, but recent years had taught me I was the most desirable woman on the planet to the two people who mattered most. I was the living embodiment of their every desire and in less than 24 hours I would finally reveal the truth. I knew everything. I felt the same way. I wanted to give myself to them.

I'm talking about my parents, and how much they want to fuck me. I've seen it in more detail than you can possibly imagine. My dad wants nothing more than to fuck me. My mum wants nothing more than to watch me fuck my dad, and then fuck me. They want to share me and love me and fuck me and cum in and all over me. I'm not exaggerating. They made it crystal clear in their writing.

Mum and dad are erotic authors. They've been writing smut for years. I never found out about it until I was 19 and they still don't know I know, but they are some of the most prolific and beloved writers in the game. They both release weekly content and have thousands of subscribers between them, and since a couple of months after I turned 18 I have been the absolute star of the majority of their work.

I mean it. Basically every story is about me, and it's definitely me. They aren't subtle about it. She has my name and my age and she looks like me and she dresses like me. Their stories are about a mum and a dad who fuck their daughter and that daughter is me and it just never ends. The content never ends. They are fucking obsessed with me and now I have become just as obsessed with them. As far as I am concerned, it's time to make those stories a reality.

I was in a daze when the taxi pulled up at home, quickly climbing out and rushing to the house to escape the winter chill. Dad was still awake, chatting to my brother who had now arrived home from his own university exploits. He was going fishing for a few nights with our grandparents starting tomorrow, which gave me the motivation and free house I needed to bring forward my reveal.

"Pumpkin." he said, much to my ire. When I pouted he apologised with a hug. Our universities aren't too far apart so we usually catch up once or twice a month, but neither of us missed living together. My name is Phoebe and my parents have this habit of giving me nicknames beginning with P, but when they do it its earnest. When my brother does it, it's targeted. He calls me pumpkin because a scary Halloween pumpkin made me cry when I was 6.

"Be nice to your sister." said dad, who was stuffed under his blanket and still refusing to put the heating on unless it was an absolute necessity.

"Yeah, be nice to me." I moaned, before falling onto the couch with my knees together and my bag resting on them.

"I'm always nice." Liam argued, slouching beside me. "Why are you dressed like Melissa?"

"New year, new me." I answered, unwilling to give him much more of an answer than that.

"You can't say that for another two weeks. Do you want to come fishing anyway? Grandma wants you to come."

"Grandma knows I love her, but I would rather die." I said. It wasn't the time of year for that sort of nonsense. Plus I'll be fucking our parents instead, but I can't tell you that part, can I?

"Whatever. I'm going to bed. I'll make you some breakfast in the morning."

I almost moaned in expectation. I missed living with his breakfasts, to give him some credit. Once he was gone and it was just me and dad, the flutters hit me again. I hadn't been able to escape them since I made up my mind about telling them. That was a couple of months ago and I bottled my first chance to reveal all back in October. The wait since then had been torturous, but the inevitability of it all usually steadied the ship. I know they want me, so there wasn't much to worry about. The moment of revelation would still be terrifying but once the panic dissipated I would sit myself down on his big cock and we would finally fulfill all of our darkest desires.

I always find it funny how dad writes himself in his stories with a big dick, but mum writes him with an elephant trunk. He was more likely to be telling the truth on this occasion.

"Earth to Phoebe." Dad said, standing over me. I was lost in fantasy again, and shook my head to wake myself back up. I'm still fascinated by the way they have always treated me the same way, despite everything they write about me. Nothing in their behaviour ever changed. "Do you want a drink? I'm having one more."

"Uh..." I croaked, blinking a few times. This POV angle of him hovering over me felt like a sign of things to come. "I'm fine thank you. I've got stuff to do tomorrow so I need to get some sleep."

"Okay princess." he said, walking off towards the kitchen. "Sleep tight."

I wouldn't fall asleep as soon as I hoped. I spent most nights squirming in bed for a short while before I could relax. It was impossible to forget their stories, and the fantasies filled my head whenever I was alone and undistracted. With my new self-imposed reveal deadline of tomorrow, it was fun to reminisce on the journey that brought us to this moment.

My parents started writing about me two months after my 18th birthday. The first piece of writing starring story Phoebe was released on June 24th 2021. It was released on my dad's account and was his first ever tale of incest. Before that date he was a bit of a jack of all trades, though he had a few successful long running sci-fi series. In an author's note at the end of the piece he said he was just trying something new, and the comment section was full of excitement at the stories to come. Mum dropped her first story about me a couple of weeks later. There was a hell of a backlog to work through by the time I discovered it.

It was an innocent mistake. I didn't go snooping on his computer. I actually asked if I could use it to buy something while my laptop was out of action. It was Christmas time and there was one last gift left to buy. It was 18 months after they started writing about me, and a treasure trove awaited me. He clearly forgot what tabs were open, and I recognised the name of the website they shared their stories on. I wasn't new to smut though most of my reading up until that point had been fan fiction. I couldn't help but notice that he wasn't just a reader but a writer, with 100's of stories on his account. I paid it little attention at the time because I don't like being nosey, but his username stuck with me. Seagullsfan76.

A few days later a wicked feeling washed over me and I went back to his account. It was a sort of morbid curiosity. I just wanted to see what kind of stuff he was getting up to on there. My sweet and innocent father, the smut writer. Then I discovered his opus.

Phoebe: A Family Love Affair

But I'm Phoebe?

My heart sunk when I saw it, but I couldn't help but click on it. I couldn't read the whole thing. It was too long. A ludicrous slow burn that my pounding heart couldn't take. But it was me. It was so clearly me. Everything about this Phoebe was me.

There were some differences. Dad didn't keep his own name. He went from Phillip to Jeremy. Mum wasn't Alison anymore either. She was Sophie. The names were different, but it was clearly based on them. My brother wasn't even given the dignity of life, but I did have younger twin sisters on the page. 'Jeremy' couldn't understand why he was so attracted to his oldest daughter. A simple premise. I skipped to the end in an attempt to compound my growing misery as the slow progression started to agitate me. Was he really going to write himself fucking me? Well no actually. It was just a kiss. He was in this story for the long run, leaving his audience on the edge of their seat and promising a part 2 by the end of the next week.

I felt sick. How could my dad feel this way about me? It broke my heart. Everything I thought I knew about him was a lie. I felt horrible for my mum as well. She can't have known this side of him. Imagine how it would kill her to learn he was fantasising about me. I could see there were over 80 parts of the story, and it was obvious what was going to happen.

It took me a couple of hours to discover mum was in on it. I couldn't bring myself to read his stories but I went from one comment section to the next to read his comments. His readers loved me, and he replied in turn about how much fun 'Jeremy' was having with his perfect girl. One comment talked about how incredible his wife was, and dad tagged mum's account as he agreed. I had seen her username in the comments but never put two and two together that it was her. I clicked on mum's profile and the horrors over there were even more palpable.

Mum's writing had little time for love. They were lust filled fuckfests between a family of three. My poor brother never made the cut for a second time. She released content at a similar rate to dad, and like him every part featured a daughter named Phoebe. My parents were called Oliver and Sally this time around. The first part of hers I tried to read was so different to dad. Her Phoebe was a confident slut who wanted her daddy so badly, but having tried to seduce him behind her mother's back, she needed to be punished by the both of them. I turned off my newly repaired laptop around the time my dad started taking his cock out of his pants, and mum pushed me onto my knees to serve him.

Both of them were writing scandalous smut about me, and I had discovered it during my Christmas visit home. I couldn't bear being around them. I just didn't trust them anymore. I fought my way through Christmas and Boxing Day and then travelled back up to Nottingham before the New Year celebrations. All of my university roommates were still out of town, giving me a week of pure rotting in bed before I had to face anyone again. It felt like life was never going to be the same again. How was I supposed to ignore what I knew about them? How could I return to normal?

I didn't see them for four months, choosing not to return home during my reading week in March. I would text them so they wouldn't worry about me but tried to avoid phone and video calls. They sent my brother to check on me in early April but I convinced him it was just dissertation stress. After I ignored their phone calls on my birthday until almost midnight, they decided enough was enough. The next day they drove up to see me, and thrust themselves back into my life.

It was a weird visit because they were just completely and utterly them. I could never shake what they wrote about but it helped me process how much I was missing them. They were the constant in my life, and it was so much emptier without them. The versions of them I loved so much were still there. I didn't know if I could ever truly accept and ignore their stories and fantasies about me, but the few days they spent in town convinced me to at least try. Hopefully I would just forget. Time heals.

Possessed by the power of forgiveness, a new wave of morbid curiosity crashed into me a few days after they left. I don't know why I went for another browse, but I did. This time I read dad's opening chapter in full. He seemed the slightly more nuanced place to start. I was fascinated watching his character's internal monologue fighting his demons. His attraction to me hurt him, and he was terrified of betraying his wife as he sank deeper into the depths of his desire for me. These must have been real feelings he had translated to a fictionalized version of our family. Mum was clearly both aware of and shared in his attraction to me, so perhaps the internalized guilt wasn't as strong in the real world.

I revisited his profile each night before bed, reading another part of his story. As days and then weeks ticked by, I became engrossed in their relationship. They didn't have sex until part 14 and most parts were at least 10,000 words long. Plenty of them surpassed 20,000. The slow burn was ridiculous. I stopped before the sex the first time, but returned the next night. It was so satisfying after all that reading. I needed the emotional release. I believed the love the characters had for each other. It was like I understood my dad more than ever. But it was still weird!

It took some courage to return to mum's work after the sanctity of dad's vanilla love story, but as my intrigue grew I just couldn't help myself. I was becoming captivated. I quickly became aware of the differences in their styles. Dad wrote about love, and mum wrote about lust.

Dad told the story of Phoebe and their family, one chapter at a time. I never appeared in any of his other work, though the comment section begged for more of me whenever he released something different. I think he's a more limited writer than my mum when it comes to the technicalities, but he has created a riveting family tale almost 200 chapters long that has never felt like a slog. I've read back through it over a dozen times by now, and it entrances me like nothing else I've ever experienced. The guy just needs to buy himself a thesaurus.

I have lived vicariously through story Phoebe and dad has such a grip of who I am as a person that he writes me so perfectly. I would sit and nod along to my character's decision making, minus the whole cheating on mum part that initiated the relationship. I understand that my unique position in this grants me a more enhanced emotional connection to the story, but the way in which my mind and heart have been absorbed into this fictionalized family continues to stun me to this day. I actually feel a connection to the twin sisters he created for me. Thankfully for my brother, not enough that I wish they would replace him.

At this point I feel like I have a photographic memory of our pretend life together. From their first time having sex in chapter 14, through to their first incestuous creampie in #23. Dad claimed my anal virginity in #39, but the guilt between us grew and we revealed our affair to mum in an emotionally charged #50. By #58 mum was watching dad fuck me and in #63, she joined in. I fucked her for the first time six parts later. A 69 for chapter 69.

Then the twins came into play. First was Chloe, who caught me giving dad a blowjob after her birthday party. She followed a similar trajectory to my own in real life. First there was the anger and emotional disconnect, followed by the curiosity and eventual acceptance. It wasn't long before it started to turn her on. It was incredible seeing something so similar to my reality in the very story that scarred me in the first place. Chloe is the sluttiest of the three daughters, and she reminds me more of the version of me mum writes about. It seemed like it was dad's way of including a cock hungry character without bastardising his interpretation of me. It was chapter 100 when he fucked her for the first time and the competition between me and one of my sisters was born.

The love story with the second of the twins, Lily, was centered on mum's insistence that we couldn't do it without her. It was wrong to love so deeply as a family when a member was left out. Dad argued he couldn't force himself to want it, and that the previous relationships formed naturally. Mum picked up the slack and did it herself, expertly seducing her third daughter before presenting her to the family and watching her claim her fair share of everyone else. Lily fucked mum for the first time in chapter 123, Chloe in #130, me in #140 and then dad in #156.

Now mum on the other hand, her stories are different. It's hard to process sometimes that this is how she pictures me, but there's very little she has written that I wouldn't do if she asked me. She operates in a more fragmented way. Each story is its own universe, though the character names are always the same and I am always the slutty daughter. She typically tells one off stories around our first time fucking, with occasional sequels to fan favourite tales.

Though she is a proficient writer, her stories are typically shorter than dad's, with less build up and more fucking. Pages and pages of exhausting fucking. She has a magical way with words that never feels repetitive and almost feels immersive. I can almost smell the sweat and cum covering our bodies. She seems to have a new kink every month, and that kink gets passed on right to me to use against my innocent parents.

Sometimes she even takes me outside of the sin of incest to use my likeness in another category. I've been in more than my fair share of gangbangs and orgies, and she even had me peg a couple of guys.

The deeper I got the more invested I grew, and my body started to naturally react to the intensity of the writing and the beauty of familial love and taboo lust. I was getting horny long before the first time I played with myself while reading, but my first father induced orgasm was an inevitability. It didn't take long before I was cumming over mum's writing as well.

I had long since accepted they were both enamoured with me, but I was growing just as infatuated with the two unique perspectives they used to shower me in their love. I couldn't imagine what the conversations were like when they were proof reading each other's work. Dad was a love maker. Did he scold mum for using my body in the way that she did?

I ended up making an account of my own, so I could comment on their stories with suggestions for future installments. I never talked back to them when they replied. I didn't want to initiate an anonymous relationship with them. As my attraction to them grew I began to accept that one day I would tell them I knew, and that we would likely have sex when that happened. It took time, but like the love in dad's stories it developed naturally over time. I found out when I was 19, a whole two years ago. Now at 21, after 20 months of reading their stories and falling in love with their desire for me, it was finally time.