There Was No Punch Line: Expectation subversion contest?

So my subversion of the trope in My Daughter The Nudist was that, despite some confusion and fantasy thoughts on dad's part, daughter wasn't actually trying to seduce him, and they never fuck. Dad in fact never lays a finger on her.


Most readers understood my subversion of the trope and why.

Well, except this guy, who apparently thinks wanting to fuck your own daughter is the default setting 😬:
You ever get the urge to do a 'where are they now?' thing, but for the readers?
 
Yeah, someone who doesn't want to fuck their daughter clearly has some issues. Like, what sort of freakish pervert wouldn't fuck his own daughter? That's just disgusting! Whatever happened to good old family values?
Lucky there's a Family Guy
Lucky there's a man who
positively can do
all the things that make us
f'ing cry

(I don't care what Seth said, those are the lyrics)
 
Saturday night, dad is away on a fishing trip and Billy knows its now or never.

For what you ask? Well, you're reading in the incest category, right? But shut up and let the narrator tell you.

For months Billy had been attracted to his mother, he knows its wrong but he can't help himself. First it was just looking a little longer than he should, his eyes lingering on his mother in her ratty bathrobe, those Sponge Bob pajama pants and those baggy mom jeans. But he knows what's under there, he knows there's a hella lot of fun beneath those clothes.

How?

Because this is literotica and all mom's look like milf porn stars here, okay? She's just one of those moms who pretend to look normal and dresses like a woman in a jardiance commercial but when the moment arrives, she's going to look like prime Kay Parker, (Why her? Because Kay was in her prime when his mom was, okay)

It went from those longing glances (as in longing to see something) to fantasies of her putting on Abbas greatest hits and when Mama Mia plays, it becomes Mama Mia time, baby, and doing a sexy striptease out of those pajama pants and dad's old Bruins jersey, kicking those slippers off and hitting him on the face, covering him with doghair because he didn't vacuum the floor like he was supposed to, but the combined smell of musty carpet and gold bond powder is like oedipal Viagra to our mom smitten young hero.

But its nothing compared to scent wafting from those enticing floral-patterned briefs she throws over his head. Billy's left eye goes wide, but only his left because the corner of the pantyliner still stuck to the underwear struck him the right eye.

That's when mom strolls on over, reminding him she would have crawled had he vacuumed the floor, but Billy know why, yes he does, it's because she isn't going to waste those sexy as fuck Lanacane patches she just put on her knees. He knows that shits expensive and dad's state medical sucks so he'll settle for just watching her limp on over while reaching back and taking off her bra, when she whips it off, narrowly avoiding scratching her boob with the piece of underwire protruding through-hot damn, she'd even worn her good bra for him-Billy is ready to see the boobs he'd been dying to get his hands on, and see them he did.

When that bra comes off, Billy's jaw hits the damn floor, joining Mom's boobs which got there first, but now she's leaning over in his lap and taking him in her mouth. Some boys would be put off when she plucked a half-smoked cig out of the ashtray and tucked it into the corner of her mouth, lighting the match by striking it off of the crusty stain of whatever the hell it was that spilled on the coffee table no one ever cleaned up.

But beggars can't be choosers and mom was clearly ready to add new meaning to the expression welcome to flavor country and hot damn did she get down to business. The good news was Mom sucked like a fucking Hoover! Bad news was it was like the fifteen year old Hoover that needed a belt and barely worked so it really wouldn't have been able to vacuum had he remembered. Buit between pausing to catch her breath, pick his pubes out from between her teeth and tap some ash on his thigh, he came hard but she wouldn't let him do it in her mouth because it night burn that canker sore she'd been dealing with, so she jacked him off and his first spurt landed on the table next to the ashtray making Billy realize what that other crusty stain was!

That's right mom was treating him just like dad! All he needed to really become man of the house at this point was case of Gansett, a cheap cigar, and a disability check!

But alas, that was just a wet dream, in reality poor Billy had been resigned to sexy fantasies like that while jacking off in mom's old running shoes which had done as much running in as Billy had vacuuming, but even just wearing them around the house had left them with that lust inducing pungent aroma of mom feet! Hmm, they'd be his feet soon, ingrown toenails and all! When they weren't around he used her stocking, because you can keep nylons and fishnets, compression socks were bringing sexy back!

But no more dreams and soiling moms already soiled and rather fragrant things, no, tonight, Billy was going to confess his feelings to his mother, and when he did, Mom's cigarette wasn't the only thing that was going to get lit! Helll yeahhhh shit was going to get hawt!

There she is on the couch, wearing those old slipper socks with the hole in the big toe, oh that cock teasing minx, showing off that toe complete with some dirt in the nail, giving her that ghetto French manicure he found so exciting. Those socks with those shorts that were three sizes too big because she'd bought them like that to get dad to believe she was taking Ozempic because she'd taken the money for it and spent it on a carton of Virginia Slims.

Yeah, conditions were perfect so Billy sits down, then patiently waits while Mom finishes watching Jeopardy, once again disappointed that Famous Trailer Parks, white trash cuisine or quotes from the dollar store weren't categories and that's when Billy comes clean and tells his mother how he wants to take her upstairs to her room and fuck her so hard the dust bunnies will fall off the broken ceiling fan! Mom looks at him, so intently he swears her lazy right eye is even focusing on him and asks him if he's out of his fucking mind, then informs him they live in a Florida trailer park and not West Virginia, so what is he thinking?

That was Saturday, now its Monday and Billy is standing in the waiting room. Standing because when his father got home and mom ratted him out, he proved to Billy that he hadn't been kidding when he told him that no matter how old he was, he'd still take the belt to his ass. At thirty-two Billy hadn't believed him but here he was with an ass redder than the rash on Mom's ass he's spotted that time she'd bent over and her shorts ripped open exposing that sexy red dry skin and a pair of once white now greyish underwear with a matching hole in them.

As he thought about it, it occurred to him that was when his impure thoughts of his mother had started.

Now he had something to tell the therapist when she called him into her office.
 
Saturday night, dad is away on a fishing trip and Billy knows its now or never.

For what you ask? Well, you're reading in the incest category, right? But shut up and let the narrator tell you.

Containment? We have a 10-17. I repeat, a 10-17, fourth wall-break in progress. Bring the specOps team and a crash cart.

This reminds me a bit of one of the first of anthro's posts that I :love:'ed because she said something like, "Because reasons. I just work here okay?"
 
Containment? We have a 10-17. I repeat, a 10-17, fourth wall-break in progress. Bring the specOps team and a crash cart.

This reminds me a bit of one of the first of anthro's posts that I :love:'ed because she said something like, "Because reasons. I just work here okay?"
I think it was something to the effect of "Why do dragons only want virgins who are 18?"
 
We need a film noir, hard-boiled detective story as well. More deadpan version of Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid.

A dame walks into a private eye's office. Legs up to here, fishnets, the works. She offers some dough for a week's work, plus expenses, taking snapshots of some other little honey that she thinks is shtupping her hubby during those late nights when he claims he's at the office, working late.

The private eye does a stakeout. Saxophone music plays. He discovers, after several shadowy adventures, that the dame's husband is actually at the office. Working late.
 
Yeah, someone who doesn't want to fuck their daughter clearly has some issues. Like, what sort of freakish pervert wouldn't fuck his own daughter? That's just disgusting! Whatever happened to good old family values?
There are more of these fuckers that you think. Look at the popularity of the T/I section
 
Mom enters boy's room who is masturbating. Mom turns red and close the door. Knock on the door. "Dinner served". The end.
 
Horny just turned 18 daughter tries to seduce daddy and get him to breed her.

Dad and mom have a conversation and decide to get daughter to therapy.

Part 2:

Daughter attempts to seduce therapist. Therapist rejects her advances and, after consulting with parents, prescribes proper medications along with continued therapy in controlled, monitored situations.
 
Horny just turned 18 daughter tries to seduce daddy and get him to breed her.

Dad and mom have a conversation and decide to get daughter to therapy.

Part 2:

Daughter attempts to seduce therapist. Therapist rejects her advances and, after consulting with parents, prescribes proper medications along with continued therapy in controlled, monitored situations.
Strongly suggests they send the daughter to SAA meetings (which IIRC recommend a year of abstinence before attempting any further romantic relationships)
 
Mom enters boy's room who is masturbating. Mom turns red and close the door. Knock on the door. "Dinner served". The end.
Father installs a keyed lock on his door the next day and hands him the key without comment. Birthday presents include a bluetooth speaker.
 
Hmm. Therapists. 50 years ago I had a problem with getting too close too fast with women I dated. My therapist worked hard to fix this, pushing the concept of "sportfucking", that every woman I was intimate with was not auditioning to be my next wife. That obviously stuck with me, and she is referenced multiple times in my latest series along with the very useful technical term. It is a technical term used by professional personal counselors, right?
 
"Help me, stepbrother! My head and arms are stuck in the dryer!"

"How? Why did you even put your head and arms in there?"

"I got tired of having to reach in here over and over so I was trying to scoop up all the laundry at once, and now I'm stuck!"

"Have you tried letting go of the laundry and just straightening your arms?"

She slides out. "Oh, that was easy. I'm so dumb!" She proceeds to empty the laundry like a normal person.

(Fin.)
 
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