Stuffed and Bred by StepDaddies on Family Vacation
T. A. BEAU
Stuffed and Bred by StepDaddies on Family Vacation
T. A. BEAU
A short interracial pseudoincest erotica story with humiliation and praise kink, rough, DP, choking and breeding.
Copyright © 2024 T. A. BEAU
All rights reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the writer and the publisher.
WORD COUNT: 5000 words
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If there's anything I hate more than sleazy frat boys, it's family vacations. There's nothing wrong with them, but my family always manages to choose the shittiest destinations.
Last year we went camping in the desert. The DESERT. What's wrong with a simple weekend at a hotel in a new city? Why did we have to go to a lake house two summers ago and nearly get mauled by bears every time we stepped outside?
This year, it's a huge family reunion. My mom's ex-husband, Tony, magically has time off. Even though my mom recently got remarried to Jack, some white guy who hates my guts, Tony is still in our lives because he's my little sister's dad.
And funny enough, Tony and Jack get along well, considering their personalities are like oil and water. Tony is friendly and pretty softhearted, honestly a bit of a pushover. Whereas Jack is a straight-up asshole from the depths of hell.
“Whenever you're done sulking, you can get out of the car and help carry stuff,” Jack says out of the blue.
Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. I scowl at him before getting out of the car. My mom and my sister, Sophie, are inside. They don't have to do anything. Jack just wants to make me a slave worker.
I remove my duffel bag from the trunk and pointedly stomp towards the cabin. Another fucking cabin. Ugh.
“Clea, I swear to God—”
Tony cuts in before I can lose my temper. “It's just three bags left. We can handle it.”
“Don't coddle her,” Jack grunts. “She's lazy enough already.”
I roll my eyes, heading inside. I've learned to keep my mouth shut and just spend as little time at home as possible to avoid him. Yet, he takes every opportunity to be a bitch whenever we're in the same place—making up for lost time, probably.
This cabin is in the mountains. The road was covered in ice which meant we had to go really slowly. Several times during the drive, I was sure our car would just tip over or spin out of control.
There are three rooms and they've already been shared—my mom and Jack are in one, Sophie and I are in the other, and Tony is alone.
I'd heard he was seeing someone new now. I wonder why he didn't bring her along. With the weather as cold as it is right now, it's the perfect time for hot, steamy sex.
Ugh. Not the time to think about how I desperately need to be folded in half and fucked until I can't speak.
“Hola Hermosa,” my mom calls as I step into the kitchen. Sophie is playing on her tablet at the dining table. Oh, to be a blissfully ignorant kid again. “I was thinking of making lasagna. What do you think?”
Lasagna is Jack's favorite food. Garfield-looking ass. Nobody else really cares for it.
“Sure mama, sounds great,” I shrug. I don't care as long as I don't have to participate. “Can I order Uber eats this far up, though?”
She gives me a look. “You think any self-respecting delivery person who values their life would actually come all this way?”
I think back to the sheets of ice and foggy air, snorting out a laugh. “Point taken. Gonna put my stuff in the room. Which one's mine and Sophie's?”
“It's the red door. My room has a blue one, Tony's green.”
Good to know.
When I'm lying down in bed and trying to get some kind of signal, I discover that the walls in the house are very thin. Jack starts bitching to my mom about how I'm supposed to at least help her cook.
“I wonder if you don't have functional arms and legs for that,” I mutter with a scowl.
“Are you saying I can't handle things myself? That I'm… too weak, maybe?” I hear my mom respond, and I'm sure she's raising her eyebrows.
I cackle at Jack's hurried assurances. Serves him right.
The temptation to find some whimper audios and touch myself to it is strong, but evidently the devil's influence is stronger, because that's when my sister comes looking for me. With a stifled sigh, I invite her to hide under the blanket with me. It's cold as a yeti's ballsack out here.
It doesn't take long for the eight year old to fall asleep. I wish I could relate.