AUTHOR: T. A. BEAU

TITLE: Dad Hunts and Breeds Both My Virgin Holes on Halloween

SUBTITLE: A NONCON Dad/Daughter Erotica Short Story with humiliation, restrained (rope), forced breeding, virgin, first-time anal, double dipping.

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: 5300 words

The music blares from the speakers, sending waves of fake cheer down the crowded street. My wings keep getting snagged on people’s costumes, and I’m sick of it. Why did I even agree to wear this stupid fairy costume? I feel like a glittery mess, a joke in a sea of fake vampires, ghosts, and-of course-my parents as matching werewolves.

I tug at the frilly skirt, feeling ridiculous. My mother waves at me from the drinks table, all fangs and fur, her face painted gray with those big, dumb wolf ears poking up from her head. She looks over-the-top, as usual, and the crowd seems to love it.

“Fifi! Come over here!” she calls, motioning for me to join her and the neighbors. My dad’s busy howling at the moon with his pack of other dad-wolves, and I roll my eyes. It’s all so predictable.

I take a slow step toward her but stop short, an idea bubbling up in my mind. I spot the drink table, the big punch bowl teetering near the edge. Everyone’s too distracted to notice me slipping over. I’m not going to do anything bad-just a little push. No harm, no foul, right? It’s Halloween, after all.

With a quick flick of my wrist, I “accidentally” bump into the table. The punch bowl wobbles, and then-splash-red liquid pours down the front of the table, drenching everything in its path. Glasses fall over, and people shriek as they scramble to avoid the spill.

“Fifi!” My mother’s voice cuts through the chaos, sharper than I expected. She’s glaring at me, her eyes wide and angry. “What is wrong with you?”

“I didn’t mean to!” I shoot back, though I’m already grinning inside. It was harmless. No one got hurt, just a little mess. But from the way my mother’s face twists, you’d think I committed a crime.

“You never think about anyone but yourself!” she hisses, her voice cracking. “You always have to ruin everything.”

Her eyes are wet. I’ve never seen her look like this before-genuinely upset. It’s like I hit something deeper this time, like I’ve crossed a line I didn’t even know existed.

I shrug, trying to brush it off. “It’s just punch. What’s the big deal?”

But she shakes her head, wiping her face with her furry paw, and storms off without another word. Great. Now I’ve done it.

My dad glances over, catching the scene, but he just looks confused, like he’s not quite sure what happened. Typical. I know he won’t say anything. He never does.

I stand there for a minute, watching her walk away. Guilt flickers in my chest, but it’s quickly smothered by boredom. I didn’t mean to make her cry. I was just trying to have some fun. This party sucks anyway. It’s always the same every year, and I’m done with it-done with all of them.

I turn on my heel and head down the block, away from the lights and noise. Maybe the park will be more interesting. There’s gotta be something better than watching adults pretend to be spooky for one night a year.

As I leave the party behind, the air gets colder. The streetlamps grow sparse, and soon, I’m standing in front of the park entrance, the metal gate creaking in the breeze. I push it open and slip inside, the crunch of dead leaves under my shoes the only sound.

The darkness wraps around me like a thick blanket, and for the first time tonight, I feel calm. No parents, no fake smiles, just me and the quiet.

Until I see it.

At first, I think it’s just my imagination-a shadow moving at the edge of my vision. But then I notice it again. A shape. Far back on the path, just standing there. I freeze, staring hard, but it doesn’t move. It’s too far away to make out any details, just a dark outline against the faint glow of the street behind me.

A chill runs down my spine. Who else would be out here at this time? Everyone’s at the party.

I start walking again, faster this time, but I can feel it-whoever it is, they’re moving, too. Every time I quicken my pace, the sound of footsteps follows, the same rhythm, matching mine.

My heart starts to pound. I glance back over my shoulder, but the shape is closer now, still following me. I swallow hard, the fear bubbling up in my chest, but I push it down. It’s probably just someone from the party messing around. Maybe they followed me here for a joke.

But deep down, I know better.

I break into a jog, my breath coming quicker now, and I hear them-footsteps speeding up to match mine. I don’t look back this time. I can’t. My legs move faster, but the park is so dark, I can barely see the path in front of me. I’m running blind.

I swerve off the main path, ducking between trees, my wings snagging on branches as I go. My heart is in my throat, pounding so loud it’s all I can hear. I just need to get away, find a way out of the park, but I’m lost. I don’t know which direction leads back to the street.

I stop behind a thick oak, gasping for air, trying to calm my racing heart. Maybe I lost them. Maybe they didn’t see me cut off the path.

But then I hear it. Footsteps. Close. Too close. Coming from my right.

Panic grips me, and I bolt again, but my foot slips on the wet ground. I stumble, hitting the dirt hard, and pain shoots up my leg. I try to scramble up, but it’s too late. A shadow falls over me.

Before I can scream, a hand grabs my arm, yanking me to my feet. I twist, trying to break free, but the grip tightens, cold fingers digging into my skin.

“What you keep doing to your mother is wrong,” a voice hisses in my ear, low and sharp. “It’s time you learned there are consequences to your actions.”

I freeze, my blood turning to ice. How do they know? How do they know what I did to her?

“Let go of me!” I struggle, but the hand doesn’t budge. The shape looms over me, just a dark silhouette in the night.

“You think you can hurt people and get away with it?” The voice is closer now, colder. “You’ve gotten away with too much for too long. Now it’s time to pay.”

I scream, but the sound is swallowed by the trees, the darkness pressing in around me.

When I come to, I realize I'm on the floor in a dark cave. The only light is from the moon, and it's not particularly bright. There's a man standing over me, and when he steps closer, I realize who it is.

“What the hell, Dad?” I yell. “That wasn't funny. I almost peed myself!”

He cocks his head to the side. “What makes you think I was trying to be funny, Fifi?”

I stare up at him, not understanding his angle. “Then what were you trying to do?”

“Teach you a lesson, obviously.”

I've never heard him sound like this before. A chill goes down my spine. I need to move.

But my body seems to freeze in place.

As I lay there, both too tired and too scared to do much of anything but dread what will come next, my dad begins to approach me. He has a stick in hand, which I cannot imagine what he needs it for. He is also naked from the waist down, a huge cock threatening looming over me. It looks slightly wet too. Like he had… jerked off while I was briefly unconscious.

Between the stick and the cock, I genuinely don't know which one I'm more afraid of.

My dad, however, has clearly made up his mind. Faster than I can blink, the maniac is suddenly on top of me, all but pinning me to the ground as my lungs fight for air and my heart pounds in my chest. As I watch, my eyes tearing up and my entire body shaking with fear, he grabs a rope from God knows where and ties my arms behind my back before roughly shoving me so I'm face down on the rough ground.

“Dad, whatever this is, it isn't funny. I-I'm gonna tell Mom!” I shout, struggling with the restraints.

He scoffs, and I gasp when he rips off my short skirt and panties in one tug.

“Tell her? After you ruined the party she'd been looking forward to all year?” He laughs loud and long. “You're dumber than you look. I can't believe you came out of my balls.”

“Some punch pouring doesn't ruin a party. She'll get over it!” I snark.

The stick hits my ass like a fucking cane and I yelp. It's not even a smooth cane, more like a tree branch that fell down. So not only does it fucking hurt on principle, it's also kinda sharp.

“You disrespectful little brat,” he growls, punctuating each word with another hit. “I should've shipped you off to military school. Maybe then you'd have some kind of sense!”

Tears drop from my eyes freely and I try to move away somehow. My dad steps on one of my legs, holding me in place.

“Stop, stop! I'll apologize! I'll make more fruit punch! Just stop, it hurts!” I cry out. I can't believe he would hurt me this way.

But most importantly, I can't believe I'm so wet right now. My eyes are squeezed shut but it's as if the outline of his shaft is traced inside my eyelids.

“Apologize, huh?” I hear him hum in consideration. “That's not good enough.”

He turns me face up and grabs hold of my polo shirt by the collar and then, with inhuman strength, tears it from me and tosses it aside. A moment later, my bra follows, leaving me naked from the waist up, my ample breasts-notably larger than my mom's, if that matters-bare to the world.

Still shaking in fear and pain, I can do nothing but close my eyes and try to wish it all away as I feel my dad grab and squeeze each of my breasts, one right after the other, still holding his stick as though it's glued to his hand.

I whimper a little as he rolls my breasts beneath his fingers, squeezing them and pulling them painfully hard, taking extra time to pinch my little brown nipples as they harden at the touch of the cool night air.