"AFD", and my Family Won't Quit

"AFD" is Coming, and my Family Won't Quit

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This is an expanded version of my 750-word story called 'April Fool's Day Again.' This story runs a little over 4700 words. I want to thank sbrooks103x for reading, editing, and catching all my miscues. I am an 'all secrets will be revealed at the end' writer, so don't jump ahead.

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My wife Stella, son Stuart, and daughter Sasha love pulling April Fool's Day pranks on me. I'm Stan, and if I hear those three words, I'll hurl. So let's call it "AFD."

Ten years ago, they began with harmless jokes and stupid tricks, but for the last three years, their pranks have become nastier and are not funny at all.

Last year's prank was the worst one ever; my lovely family convinced me a ghost had moved into our home. They had wireless speakers all over the house, and for the week before "AFD," I didn't get much sleep. Then, when they reeled me in on April 1^st, I went crazy.

I packed a bag and left home, called my boss for some time off, and went fishing. I stayed away for two weeks, but it was another two weeks before I spoke to any of them. Finally, I pleaded and begged them to stop pranking, "This has to end before someone gets hurt. You know what I do for a living, and last week I almost killed myself thinking about ghosts and not focusing on the work at hand."

My family looked shocked and agreed, apologizing for my pain and suffering.

Even though they agreed to stop, I didn't believe the two-faced assholes. They probably thought I made up the story about killing myself by accident.

I got off work early Friday, March 14^th, and decided to visit Sasha and my granddaughter. I called my wife and asked her if she wanted me to pick her up, but she declined, telling me she'd see them the next day. Sasha's car was in her driveway, so I parked out front and walked around to their sliding glass door.

When I looked through the glass, I froze because my daughter was bent over the back of her couch in the living room, getting fucked. Whoever was fucking her was wearing a dirty T-shirt and a baseball hat that looked familiar. I could hear Sasha trash-talking through an open window, "Fuck me harder, that feels so good. Your cock feels so much bigger than my husband's puny dick."

I almost went in, but this wasn't my problem yet. Walking back to my car, her husband Steven's car was nowhere in sight on the street, so I drove away quickly. I was no longer nervous; now, I was depressed.

I tossed and turned most of the night before falling asleep, so of course, I overslept. When I awoke, I walked toward the kitchen and heard whispering. The floorboards were creaking, so I slowed down until whispers changed to words, then stopped.

"Then what happened?"

"Ron pushed me over the couch and buried his cock in me. He's huge."

Ron, their neighbor Ron? That's why the hat looked familiar; Ron always wears that dirty old hat, and Steven hates him.

"My orgasm was the absolute best I've ever had. Ron filled me with lots of cum."

"Aren't you ovulating this week?"

"Weren't you the one who told me what a rush it is to hear Dad tell the story about why you got married?"

"That's true."

"And when he tells everyone that you got married because he knocked you up with me, what happens?"

"I have an orgasm without touching myself."

"And why is that, my mother the slut?"

"Because my boyfriend, before Stan, is your biological father. I did a DNA test a few years back to confirm it."

I wanted to die, to have a massive heart attack right there in the hallway.

"I told you to take a lover. It's magical."

My chest did start to hurt, and I decided to go back to bed until I heard Stella speak some more.

"Gerald is longer than Stanley but not as thick. I can still swallow all of Ger's nine inches down my throat."

Gerald Davidson is the old boyfriend? He's Sasha's father, not me! Down her throat? She only sucks the head of my cock.

FUCK! What did she say? 'I can still swallow all of Ger's nine inches.'

I'm going to get my Glock and shoot Stella, Sasha, and Stuart, and then I'm gonna blow Gerald's balls off in front of everyone at the pub. After that, I'm going to get blind drunk.

I turned around and shuffled back to bed. I lay there, trying to create an exit plan, but I couldn't block out what I overheard my wife and daughter saying. Were they always this shallow? My pulse was slowing down, and I needed to get away from this house. I staggered into the bathroom just as Stella came into the bedroom, running her mouth while she made the bed. I put my Friday work clothes back on, marched through the bedroom, down the hall, and out the front door as Stella and Sasha were yelling my name, trying to get my attention.

I drove to the Holiday Inn outside of town and got a room before heading to the bar. My plan was to get shitfaced before I really started drinking, but I saw this cute little girl in the dining room, sitting with her parents eating lunch, and she looked at me and smiled as she waved her hand. I waved back and turned away before I started to cry.

After that, I was treated to an hour-long, nonalcoholic therapy session with the bartender. When my time was up, I put a twenty in the tip jar, went back to my room, and ordered room service. After eating, I took a long hot bath while reflecting on the age-old question, 'How can I create blue fireworks without blowing myself up?'

I went to bed and fell asleep watching a baseball game. My dreams had me tossing and turning all night, but they all faded away when I awoke. So I stayed another day and night, ate three hot meals, and spent two hours swimming in and relaxing around their indoor pool.

I checked out in the morning, and when I thought about going home to shower and shave, depression surged through my brain, reminding me it was thirteen days until "AFD." I almost went back to the Holiday Inn.

Alas, a new workweek was beginning, and I went to work in a daze because my pyrotechnicians needed my expertise on a new mortar shell we were designing, so I tried to focus on the job. I did go home every night because Stella had to rehearse for the stupid play the theatre group was putting on, and I was asleep when she came home. I only saw my wife in the morning, and I didn't speak to her.

On the 26^th, a week later, we finished the shell design and turned the plans over to development. I checked out and told my secretary, Betty, good night and left work, arriving home at about 2:00. Entering the garage from the side door, I heard Stella and Stuart talking, so I listened for a moment.

"We pushed him to the brink Saturday a week ago. Your sister and I heard the floorboards in the hall creaking, and we really wound him up. He stormed out the door and disappeared for the rest of the weekend. All last week he never said a word to me, not one word. He should be home soon because Bob, a tech on his team, keeps an eye on Stan, and he called an hour ago telling me Stan was leaving early today. Go check and see if his car is coming down the street?"

Motherfucker. They are doing another "AFD" prank. I quietly opened the side door and closed it loudly, then raced over to the kitchen door. I heard Stella whisper, "Quiet. Start your story, Stuart."

I turned the knob a little, then stopped so they would know I was listening.

"Mrs. Grainger, my future mother-in-law, was on her knees, squealing like a pig, as I buried my cock up her ass. Her cunt's a little loose, but that ass is so fucking tight. After shooting my load up her ass, I pulled out, and we sixty-nined on the floor, me eating her sloppy cunt while watching my cum ooze out of her ass onto her carpet. She was swallowing my cock while her tongue tip flicked against my balls. My stupid fiancée, Lydia, was working overtime again."

So now I know all three members of my psycho family are a part of this "AFD" prank. I still needed an exit strategy, but now I wanted revenge. I slipped out of the garage and drove downtown to Radio Shack, where I purchased three electronic audio recorders. Before going home, I drove back to work to speak to my boss.

I gave him the abbreviated story of my problem and made him a proposal. He totally jumped on it and said he'd get the paperwork done with our lawyer. He was thrilled with my end game because he was aware of some mistakes I'd made lately and was worried about me. We talked a while longer, and I filled him in on Bob Kramer, the only Bob on my team. He assured me he would take care of Bob. Allen and I have always been very close.

That night after dinner, while I was cleaning up the kitchen, Stella went upstairs. I finished cleaning after 8:00 and hid a voice-activated recorder on top of the kitchen cabinet over the house phone. Then, I locked up, turned out the lights before slowly going upstairs.

Stella was reclining on the bed, wearing one of her chiffon nightgowns that showed more than was hidden. For a brief second, I thought about telling her to fuck herself, but the little head overruled the big ego, and I decided I was going to enjoy myself, right up to the very end. But I had to poke the sleepy bear before I wrestled with it.

"Is that your costume for the play, or are you going to perform on a webcam for tokens?"

"You fucking asshole, I was going to let you have some, but you can go fuck yourself." She was getting off the bed when I picked her up and dropped her back in the middle. I quickly stripped, kicking my shoes off against the wall and throwing my clothes around the room. Then, I got on the bed, crawling on my hands and knees up between her legs, where I erased the smirk on her face by ripping off her nightgown. She slapped me and rolled over, trying to get away, but I grabbed her legs and pulled her onto her back before placing her legs over my shoulders, and I fucked her. No words said, no foreplay given, no consideration for her feelings at all. I pounded my cock into this bitch, who I used to call my loving wife, Stella, and pinned her arms above her head.

Surprisingly, I don't think I'm going to jail for rape because my wife was screaming my name, begging me to fuck her harder. So I released her hands, and I did fuck her harder, and unusually for me, I lasted longer than I had in ten years. She came twice and was coming for the third time when I filled her cunt with cum.

I pulled out of her frothy pussy and presented my cum covered dick to her face. She swallowed my whole prick as it slowly softened, sucking like the best vacuum cleaner ever made, and she resurrected it. It quickly stiffened up, then hardened up like it was 10 minutes ago. She was more experienced than any porn star I've ever seen in a movie giving blowjobs. I didn't last long, and I cruelly held her mouth over my entire cock as I shot my cum into her throat. When the spasms stopped, I released her head, but she didn't remove her mouth right away. Stella was sucking again, trying to clean all the cum off my cock.

Sadly, my Stella had never sucked me like this before. More confirmation, that I have been replaced in her bed.

When she released my shrunken penis, she got up and went to the bathroom, and I crawled under the covers and fell into a deep sleep.

I woke up at my usual time and felt good, damn good. Stella must have gotten up early, and I knew why; I could smell sausage and bacon cooking in the kitchen. I took a quick shower, dressed, and placed a second recorder on the vanity in the bathroom mixed with my electric razor accessories. I put the third one I purchased in her Kleenex box on her end table by cutting a hole in the bottom and squeezing the recorder under the whole pile of tissues. Then I took a pin and punched a few holes in the box next to the recorder.

Going into the kitchen and sitting at the counter, I checked out her fashion for the day. She was wearing one of my dress shirts with one button fastened. She'd put some curls in her hair and brushed it out. Her eyes were made up the way I liked, something I hadn't seen in many years. Her lips were a dark red, and again it had been years since she wore lipstick for me.

She brought my plate of food and a cup of coffee and walked around the kitchen counter, and set them in front of me. She could have slid them across the counter, but she wanted me to smell the perfume I got her three years ago that she'd never worn before. As I ate, she was clinging to me, twirling my hair with a finger while her other hand was stroking my thigh.

When I finished eating, Stella pushed my plate out of the way and squeezed between my legs. "Last night, you were like the young Stan, the man I fell in love with twenty-six years ago. Why don't you stay home, and maybe we can re-create some of the magic we once had?" She took my hands and reintroduced them to her breasts as she gave me a scorching kiss with lots of tongue.

I kissed her back while caressing her spectacular tits and countered, "I'll stay home today if you call the soap opera gigolo, who can't get a job in the daytime TV industry, and tell him you won't be at the rehearsal tonight."

This was it, the crossroads of our marriage. She could turn left and run to the washed-up TV star, she could turn right and reconnect with her old boyfriend Gerald, or Stella could run straight ahead to me, her husband of twenty-five years. The logical part of my brain told me she would turn left, but the rest of me was praying that she would choose me. I was 99% sure that logic would be the correct answer.

"Stan, you know his name is Antonio, and I can't miss another rehearsal. I missed the one last night, and opening night is in two weeks, and I have rehearsals every weeknight the rest of this week and all of next week."

And that was the reason why she had no time for me, her husband, because she got involved with a local theater group eight years ago. A washed-up soap opera actor ran the group, and six years ago, Stella began changing, becoming less affectionate and cutting way back on the amount of sex we had together. Soon she wasn't making dinner anymore and stopped kissing me goodbye in the morning.

Every time I asked her, "When will you be home?" or "Where are you going?" she'd lie to me, and that's when I decided our marriage was in trouble. I hired a private detective to get me proof of her infidelity, and it only took him two weeks to get video and audio. Now I can end this Greek tragedy on my terms. The DVDs were locked in my safe, and I began living the life I wanted without any thoughts of my family ruining my day.

"Yeah, sure, whatever. You expect me to ditch work for you, but you won't miss one rehearsal for me. Shame on me for trying to reconnect with my wife. Forget it; perhaps you'll be free Saturday morning?"

"Oh, Stan, don't be such a drama queen. I have nothing going on Saturday morning. So why are you asking?"

"Call both kids and tell them to be here at 9 AM for a family meeting. I might as well go to work today, so I can wear myself out and be asleep when you finally decide to come home."

Today I had a meeting with my divorce attorney. I hired him six years ago after Stella had changed so much and pushed me out of her life. Without guidance from my attorney, other than hypotheticals, I began diverting funds to offshore accounts after all applicable state, federal, and Social Security taxes were paid. Once the money arrived, I began purchasing gold reserves in Switzerland. Going over my finances, I had $570,000 in gold reserves at the current market price, $157,000 in a Cayman Island bank, and $31,000 in US banks. Our house was worth $1,275,000, and the shares I held in the company I worked at, Stoddard Fireworks, was worth an undetermined amount until an appraisal was completed. I was prepared to give her the US bank accounts, two-thirds of the value of our house after it was sold, and per our prenuptial agreement with a no-fault divorce, 30% of the value of my company stock.

However, if the reason for divorce was adultery by either party, the guilty spouse would only receive 15% of my stock. I told my lawyer to draw up two sets of divorce petitions, one for no-fault and one for adultery on her part. I hadn't made my mind up with 100% certainty. He said the documents could be served to Stella the following Monday at the theater during rehearsal.

I went to work and had my secretary Betty put an out-of-office message on the phone. When she finished, I had her lock the outside office door and join me in my office. I was eight years older than Betty, and she has worked for me since she graduated from college. And unknown to everyone in my universe, we had been infrequent lovers for five years after I determined my wife was using most of her acting talent keeping me in the dark.

"Betty, I do believe the next chapter for us is about to begin." I laid out my family's latest "AFD" prank and told her what my response would be to their evil plan. I also told her the financial breakdown for the divorce, and all she said was, "Will we be able to go out to dinner and dancing, and can I hold your hand in public, and can we kiss anywhere?"

She never mentioned the word money at all. "Yes, Betty Boop."

Then she said, "Do you think we're too old to have a baby?"

I sent her home, and I made a call to my insurance agent, changing all my beneficiaries. Then I called the lawyer I used for my will and told him what changes to make. I talked to Allen for about an hour, and he said he would have all the papers ready for signing early Friday afternoon. So I told him that was fine. It was 4:15, and I borrowed everything I needed for Saturday morning from my warehouse and loaded it on a work pickup truck. Then I drove home.

I parked in my driveway and unloaded my supplies into the garage. After closing the garage door, I began carrying everything down to the basement and my man cave. Then I returned the truck to work and came home in my car. I fixed myself something to eat before going down to the basement and putting my "AFD" surprise together. I think this year I'm going to win the prize for the category Best "AFD" prank on your family."

Before going to bed, I pulled all three recorders and hit the jackpot with the one in the Kleenex box. It was about a thirty-minute recording, but the first fifteen seconds was more than enough to harden my heart, and even though I could only hear Stella's responses, the meaning of her words was crystal clear. I threw the recorders into my briefcase, locked it, and went to bed.

The runaway train was in motion, and it had no brakes.

The following morning I called my divorce attorney and, while talking to him, emailed the recording to him and told him, "File under adultery and enforce the prenup precisely the way it was written. She trashed me on that phone call, and I'm angry as hell."

The rest of the week flew by, and when I awoke at 6:00 AM on April 1^st, I felt relief. Stella was still sound asleep, so I dressed and made a pot of coffee. My surprise guest arrived as I poured out two mugs of steaming hot black coffee. I escorted my guest to Stuart's room, and then I went to wake up Stella.

She was stirring in bed, and when I shook her, she stretched and smiled at me. "Stella, when the kids are both here, all three of you come downstairs at exactly 9:00 AM. Please, this is important, 9 o'clock when the second-hand strikes twelve."

"Okay, honey."

At 8:55, I heard my children come in, and when the alarm on my watch went off, all three walked slowly down into my lair. I pointed at the couch, and they hesitated before sitting down.

"Every year, you pull an April Fool's prank on me, each one worse than the last one. I begged you to stop last year, and you agreed. And then you try to pull a cheating spouse prank this year."

"How did you find out, Honey?"