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Blurb:
My name is Jack, and I’m the world’s luckiest idiot.
Six months ago, I was a divorced loser tinkering in my garage and none of the women in my life would give me the time of day. Now I’m engaged to a billionaire goddess who worships the ground I walk on, I’ve got a gorgeous pregnant twenty-year-old influencer who can’t keep her hands off me, and my daughter Morgan thinks I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to humanity.
The problem? My ex-wife Josephine. She’s beautiful, bitter, and determined to destroy everything I’ve built. She wants the police involved to investigate Morgan’s personality shift, she wants my head on a platter, and she definitely doesn’t know about the little machine in my basement that’s responsible for my sudden change in fortune.
Morgan knows, though. My brilliant, gorgeous daughter figured out how the Trance Machine works. You might have thought she’d use it to free herself, to escape the influence that’s made her so… devoted to me. Instead, she has other plans. Plans that involve her hot, mature mother. Plans that involve completing what she calls my “perfect collection.”
I should stop her. I should destroy the machine. I should be the responsible parent I’ve always tried to be. I shouldn’t think about how sexy my fitness-perfect gymnastics star daughter is, or how much I want to see my arrogant wife on her knees in front of me, mindless and obedient.
Right?
WARNING: Contains mind control, explicit content, and a bumbling protagonist who turns his ex-wife and daughter into his desperate, breeding-hungry harem members!
The First Thousand(Ish) Words:
Morgan’s fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her skirt, her breath catching as she watched the scene unfolding in Monika’s master bedroom. She hadn’t meant to spy—she’d only gotten up for a glass of water to keep her throat clear for the important task she had with Emma—but the sounds coming from down the hallway had drawn her in.
Now, she stood frozen in the shadows, one hand braced against the doorframe, the other working methodically between her thighs as she watched her father fuck his fiancé—and not for the first time, either.
It would have been dishonest of her to suggest, truly, that she didn’t suspect she might see this when she left her room. They fucked all throughout the night, and always with the door open. Usually, Emma was inside, and if she wasn’t, she was welcome to join them and often did.
And always, Morgan was allowed to watch. Her father knew he had nothing to hide.
He was such a man. Morgan was obsessed.
Monika was a vision of submission incarnate. The hot blond billionaire—all endless legs and platinum hair cascading down her bare back—rode Jack with a desperation that made Morgan’s pussy clench with envy. Monika’s breasts, full and perfect, bounced with each downward thrust, her prominent clavicles glistening with sweat in the soft lamplight. The diamond choker around her elegant throat caught the light with every movement, tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of jewelry adorning a woman who would gladly give up every cent to keep Jack’s cock inside her.
“Please,” Monika gasped, her accent thick with need. “Please, my love, my husband, my god—tell me I’m yours. Tell me I belong to you completely.”
Jack’s hands gripped Monika’s narrow hips, his fingers digging supple flesh.
“You’re mine,” he growled, and Morgan felt her own orgasm building just from hearing the possessive rasp in his voice. “Every inch of you. Every dollar. Every thought in that beautiful head.”
“Yes!” Monika threw her head back, exposing the long column of her throat. Her abs flexed with each movement, her impossibly tiny waist creating that tight hourglass that made Morgan understand why men started wars over women like this. “Yours forever! Everything I am, everything I have—”
Morgan bit her lip to stifle a whimper as her fingers found her clit. She was soaked, her expensive La Perla panties ruined beneath her Prada skirt. Her other hand crept up to squeeze her own breast through her partially unbuttoned Hermès silk blouse, wishing it was Jack’s hand instead.
She had forgotten, exactly, who had bankrolled her new wardrobe. Was it Emma’s influencer money? Money she had siphoned from her own mother, Josephine? Or money that Monika had devoted to Jack?
It didn’t matter. Everything belonged to him now.
She wanted this. Needed this. Not just to watch, but to be the one on that bed, to be the one crying out as Daddy claimed her, bred her, made her his hot fuckslave alongside Emma and Monika.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She fumbled for it with trembling fingers, nearly dropping it as another wave of arousal crashed through her.
Emma: omg babe where are you?? you said this was urgent
Morgan’s thumbs flew across the screen, her other hand never stopping its work between her legs.
Morgan: watching your mom fuck my dad rn
Morgan: she’s riding him so hard
Morgan: her tits are bouncing everywhere
Morgan: she’s begging him to own her
There was a pause. Morgan could practically feel Emma’s jealousy radiating through the phone.
Emma: WHAT
Emma: thats not fair
Emma: god I love Him so fucking much
Emma: I want His babies so fucking bad. so jelly. Only been fucked three times today.
Morgan’s pussy clenched at Emma’s desperate texts. God, her best friend was so totally broken for Daddy. So pregnant. Just like Morgan wanted to be.
Morgan: focus babe
Morgan: you in the workshop yet?
Emma: yeah just got here
Morgan had to bite down on her knuckles to keep from moaning aloud. Soon. She would make it happen. So soon.. In the bedroom, Monika’s cries were reaching a crescendo, her long tight body trembling as Jack’s thrusts grew more forceful.
“Tell me about Josephine,” Jack said suddenly, his voice rough with exertion. “Say what you said before.”
Monika’s eyes—so much like Emma’s—went hazy with something beyond mere arousal. Something darker, more obsessive.
“Your ex-wife,” she panted, her hips never stopping their rolling motion. “That gorgeous, cruel bitch who threw you away like garbage.”
“Keep going.”
He was so commanding. Morgan was so fucking wet.
“I want you to destroy her,” Monika said, her voice taking on an edge of vicious excitement. “I want you to use the machine on her. I want you to take that haughty princess and turn her into your devoted little cockslave. I want you to make her worship the man she discarded, make her beg for the cock she rejected.”
Morgan’s fingers worked faster. The thought of her mother—perfect, untouchable Josephine—reduced to a drooling, desperate slut for Daddy made her head spin with forbidden ecstasy.
And if Monika said it, it was because Daddy wanted her to say it. That’s how the Machine worked.
“Monika—”
“Please, my love,” Monika said, leaning forward to press her magnificent tits against Jack’s chest. Her lips found his ear, her voice dropping to an intimate whisper that somehow still carried to Morgan’s hiding spot. “I’ve seen the way you look when Morgan mentions her mother. I know you want revenge. I know you want to see Josephine on her knees, worshipping you like you deserve.”
“That’s not—”
Monika silenced him with a deep, grinding thrust that made him groan.
“Don’t lie to your future wife,” she said, playful and serious both. “I belong to you completely. My mind, my body, my soul—all yours to command. And I’m begging you to take what’s yours. Take Josephine. Break her. Make her yours like you made me yours…”
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