Part 3: Escape Route
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Author's Note: despite what the characters in this story might think on the matter, this is a work of fiction. None of the names have been changed because none of these people really exist - except in as much as thoughts exist. Perhaps they'll exist in your heads for a while.
This story also contains more sex than the previous two; this is intentional and is the case primarily because this story covers a much longer period of time than the others.
I hope the experience is satisfying.
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Hello. My name's Dane and this is a story about how I almost escaped.
First things first - my name's not really Dane, names have been changed, that sort of thing. I won't bore you, you know how this works. Yes, this is real. No, I'm not going to bother proving it to you. No, I have no idea who you are - I just know my sisters are going to find this and show it to someone because that's. What. They. Do.
I have two sisters, a mother and technically a father, though if he turned up I'd...
Who am I kidding? I'd let him in and give him a coffee and then talk at him a lot. I'm not a fighter, even though I hate the guy for running out on us. He IS my dad, though. Can't help but love him. Sandy - that's one of my sisters, they're younger than me and twins - says it's probably just biochemical. Maybe she's right, I don't know. I'm the big dumb one of the family and until really recently I thought I was pretty much the normal one.
So much for that.
Um. Basic information. I'm twenty-three at the time of writing this but a lot of this started before my birthday. I'm a bit over six feet tall - six-two, I think, it doesn't bother me so much. I work as a courier and go to the gym... Well, not actually a lot, but often. Being a courier doesn't do too much to keep me in shape but actually being in shape helps haul boxes and stuff, you see, so I've got a bit of muscle to me. I have brown hair but I dye it sometimes - okay, that's not true. My sisters badger me into letting them dye it. There's a running joke at work that people have bets as to what colour my hair's going to be after the weekend's gone by.
I... guess I'm pretty good-looking. I've had compliments and they tend to make me feel really weird. I guess I'm kind of straight, too - I've met a couple of guys I think are pretty cute but never had any serious urge to... you know. Do anything about it.
I'm not a writer, by the way, not by nature or by training. I carry boxes, stick them in a truck and then drive the truck to wherever the boxes have to go.
What else? Oh, I've had a few girlfriends and almost every one of them has complained I think they're ugly - which is completely not true, right, let's make that clear. But I have twin sisters and a mother and... Well, they're pretty hot. Mum's hot in that 'I used to be sexy and I miss it but fail to realise I'm still damn sexy' way - I don't know if that makes any sense, like I said, I'm not a writer. My sisters are still in that 'bloom of youth' stage. Oh, and they're all redheads.
So... people find them a bit intimidating. Hell, I've even had friends say that I don't get it when they talk about this cute girl or that hot woman because I'm 'surrounded by hotness all the time' or some bullshit.
*****
Anyway, I should get into this.
It's been a few months now since I had sex with my mother.
I wrote and erased and rewrote that about twelve times, I think. At first it was just hard to type the words out. Then I was trying to type something more lewd but that feels so damn wrong. Does that seem weird? 'Made love to' is more satisfying to type but it's not quite true. I love her because she's my mother, it's not like I want to marry her or anything. But saying I... you know. My mother isn't someone I like attaching the word 'fuck' to.
Fucked my sisters, though. I can type that no problems - mainly because at first I couldn't and they actually sat me down and forced me to verbalise it. They've got this thing about me being the most innocent and pure one in the family - they're probably right, too - and they like embarrassing me. They call it 'tough love.' I call it sadism.
So yeah. I have hot sisters and a sexy mother. All of whom I've been to bed with.
Here's a thing, though. Most people don't really realise that, right? I mean the sexy part. Hard not to realise you're in bed with a blood relative when it happens, believe me. Plenty of people have hot siblings or parents but even if they know it in their heads it doesn't trigger anything off. My sisters are studying to be shrinks or something. Sandy said it's - I forget the term. But it's this syndrome thing that means that something in your head turns off the 'must fuck that' reaction if you grow up with a person. Doesn't matter if you're a girl or a guy, it turns off and that's why when you hear about cases of incest in the media - the ones that aren't outright child abuse - it's almost always step-relatives or people who grew up apart from one another. In those cases the syndrome thing doesn't kick in, so the juices get flowing.
That's not the case here. Not only did we grow up together, we grew up REALLY tight-knit, partially because of my fuck-headed Dad leaving us, but otherwise just... because. My sisters have always been really hands-on and my mother never missed good-night hugs until we kids felt we'd outgrown them. You know how that happens.
Funny thing, when Dad left we decided pretty much without saying anything that we hadn't actually outgrown them at all.
Westermarck Effect, that's it. Reverse sexual imprinting. Sandy and Sally have been really interested in it recently, for obvious reasons.
Now, see, when I found out about that effect thing I asked my Mum about it. Did she just not have that reaction? Turns out she did. How about my sisters? Yeah, they struggled with it too. This wasn't an easy thing for any of us. The shock of wanting it gets complicated (but not replaced) by guilt, and the guilt of wanting it doesn't go away afterward. It just piles up with the guilt of having had it.
And I almost escaped wanting it. Almost.
This is about that.
*****
First, though, I need to give you a bit more, um, background.
This is going to get a bit hot and heavy from place to place so sorry about that. Unless you like that, in which case... Good for you. I guess. See, I can't really talk about almost escaping a thing until I talk about the thing in question so we're going to go back a bit.
I'm just going to say this outright: my sisters and my mother are actively dangerous people to underestimate. A lot of people do it - Sandy and Sally can run rings around people intellectually and they sometimes find it fun to act like they don't get what's going on. I've seen them lure people they don't like into social traps and then finish them off like wolves dragging down caribou. I've lost more than one friend that way. Though admittedly those 'friends' have always turned out to be complete bastards so I guess I owe them.
My mother, she's lost a lot of her confidence over the years, but recent events have revived a bit of her spunk. Just yesterday I went shopping with her (okay, she went shopping and took me along to carry stuff, amongst... other things) and I watched her flirt her way to discounts in every single shop that had anything even approaching a male shop attendant (as well as more than one female salesperson). My sisters are good but I couldn't help but think - if that's the sort of thing my Mum can do when she's down, it actually scares me what she could do when she's firing on all confidence cylinders.
