Family Comes Together

A simple story about the joys of reuniting with family over the holidays. Our main character Rob reconnects with his family after years spent away learning to become a neurosurgeon. It's funny how things can change in the time it takes to become a doctor. Family can always be tricky, but the holidays are always a particularly stressful time. So hopefully this tale can be an example of how two winter holidays end up bringing one family closer together. This story contains quite a lot of family incest. If that isn't your thing, then perhaps this story isn't for you. All of these fictional characters are consenting adults over the age of 18.

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I wasn't sure if the turkey had been shot or bought. There had been a vague attempt to tell the story of the turkey's demise at dinner, but it was muddled, a half cooked effort just like the bird itself. The mashed potatoes were watery and the green bean casserole tasted like a tin can. The cranberry sauce had come from a can as well. The pumpkin pie was store bought. My father's gravy was lumpy and I suspected he had bought a bottle of stuffing mix from the store. Maybe I was just being judgmental, but not much seemed to have changed in the time since I had left to go to college.

The house was in slightly better shape than the last time I'd visited, someone had clearly done some work in the years I'd been gone, but otherwise it felt like things were exactly as they'd been his whole life growing up. I wondered if my mother still cleaned the house in a similar pattern each week, and I had the urge to get up and look for the dirty plates from breakfast which were always hiding somewhere in the house.

"Everything alright Robbie?" My mother asked, the only person alive I let call me that anymore.

"It's great. Really good." I forced a smile and ate a bite of the soggy stuffing.

"It is delicious, isn't it?" My father asked. "This is the best year yet, I really think it is."

I wasn't sure what he was talking about but I nodded in agreement,

"Yeah, it really is. The food is just what I needed, Dad."

The table went quiet for a moment, and then Sammie, my sister piped up. "It's good to have you back. Happy Thanksgiving."

She smiled at me, and I could tell she meant it. She'd always been kind, even if she'd always been a little strange. I smiled back and she went back to eating, shoveling forkfuls of turkey and stuffing into her mouth. She was a good kid. Maybe a little overweight last I'd seen her, but she'd grown from a chubby teenager to a curvy, hourglass shaped woman. She'd clearly put in some time at the gym or playing a sport because her arms were ever so visibly toned with subtle muscles. Her legs were covered by her jeans and a pair of white socks, but I was pretty sure they'd also gotten bigger and stronger.

"It's nice to be back," I said, "I'm just not sure how long I can stay though, work is picking up suddenly and they've said I need to be in the office Monday."

"Oh, you're not going to be staying more than a night?" My mother asked, her face radiating disappointment. "We'd hoped you might stay until Christmas, Robbie."

My mother was wearing an apron over her normal clothes, a light green dress that made her look like she was the wife of a country club golfer. She was now that I thought about it. I looked around the house at the various portraits of my parents on hunting trips and fishing outings, and a couple of pictures of the four of us at a distant holiday dinner. I looked miserable then as well. A photo of my parents smiling in a field while they posed with a turkey. My mom had a way of always looking impeccable and feminine, even in the great outdoors.

"I might be able to visit again around Christmas, but they need my expertise in person. Not a whole lot of neurosurgeons to spare where I live."

I felt my gut twinge as I qualified my statement with the 'might' I used to make space for myself. It had perhaps become an overused tool because my mom frowned as soon as she heard the word leave my lips.

"I know Robbie," she said. "But I've barely seen you since you left for college, and then you just went and disappeared off to that big city of yours. You'll barely let me visit, and you won't even come home for Christmas? I'd think you were ashamed of us or something."

"I'm not Mom, and I'll come home for Christmas. I promise."

I felt guilty as soon as the words left my mouth. I knew that I'd been avoiding this place and these people, but I didn't want to hurt my mother. But another part of me wanted to push away from the feeling that came over me when I stayed at my childhood home. It was like I became incapable to resist the childish behaviors and urges that came over me as a teen. It was hard to spend a long time at home without getting into fights with my father, and I knew that I had to work on it.

"Promise?" She asked, her eyes staring into mine. "I mean it Robbie."

"I do too mom."

"Well, what are we all sitting around for?" My father said, raising his glass in the air.

"Let's get this party started!"

"Oh George, calm down." My mother said, but she was smiling.

Everyone raised their glasses for a toast, after which another bottle of wine was opened. For the first time that day, I began to relax. The tension I'd felt in my stomach seemed to ease, and I could feel myself beginning to smile and laugh along with my family as the alcohol did its work. I noticed how close my father and sister were sitting to each other. She was practically leaning into his lap, clinging to his arm while she gazed absentmindedly into the distance. He was whispering something into her ear, and I couldn't help but notice her nod at something he said.

"What are you two whispering about over there?" I asked, feeling boldly curious.

My father smiled at me and my sister looked up, her attention now focused on me.

"Oh, nothing." She said, a sly grin on her face.

"She's just been talking to me about what we were going to get you for Christmas." My father said, his expression noncommittal.

"Get me?" I asked, surprised. "You don't have to get me anything. I'm happy with the dinner you made."

"That's no fun!" My mother interjected. "Besides, we've already got it. There's no taking it back now. Your sister and I went shopping together last week when I drove up to visit her. We picked something out."

"Yeah," my sister said. "We picked something out, Rob."

She was looking at me intently with a sarcastic expression on her face, and I noticed that my father's gaze was also fixed on me, studying me with an unfamiliar expression.

"Really, you didn't have to. You know I don't need anything." I said. "I just appreciate being included."

My father shook his head and leaned back, his arm slithering out from where it had been kept below the table for most of the meal. I noticed that it now wrapped around my sister's shoulder, pulling her close to him. She snuggled in and leaned her head against his chest, her eyes closing as she nestled against him. Something about this felt new. My father and sister had been close when I'd left, but this dinner table cuddling was foreign to me. The alcohol helped me push the thought away, and I decided that maybe they were just leaning on each other innocently, and it was my own perverted mind imagining strange and terrible things.

"You're part of the family." My father said. "You always will be, Rob. We want to include you."

I looked down at my plate and shoveled some more turkey into my mouth. I noticed that the bird was nearly gone and I hadn't had any seconds. My mother had probably planned for me to eat my fill of turkey because she had another bird in the fridge that would be turned into a turkey pot pie the next day. The stuffing was disappearing as well. I'd never been much of a fan of the gelled texture, but I could tell that someone at the table was working on the plateful that had been brought to the table.

"Well," I said, "I'm not sure what you're getting me for Christmas but I'm sure I'll love it."

The conversation turned to other topics after that, but I couldn't shake the feeling that my father was staring at me intently whenever my attention was directed elsewhere. Eventually everyone stood up, the conversation making way for the sound of plates and silverware clinking and rattling as they were gathered and taken from the dining space. As the table and kitchen were tidied up my mom put on some old Christmas themed records she had inherited from her parents. The old time-y music made it feel like the cleaning was happening quickly and soon enough the whole family was relaxing on the living room sectional. I found myself sitting in a loveseat across from the couch.

My father sat in the center with his wife on his right and daughter on his left. They had a pile of blankets between them, which I assumed had been retrieved from a closet somewhere in the house. I felt my eyelids growing heavier and heavier as I sat there listening to the music and letting myself relax. I hadn't realized how tired I was until I found myself dozing off while my family chatted softly between themselves.

I didn't hear what they were saying, but it sounded like they were discussing what to watch on TV. I didn't know why they were asking each other when the TV was right there, but I figured that it was a polite thing to do, even if I wasn't involved in the process. It was nice to be included though, and I drifted off thinking of how I finally hadn't ruined an evening by arguing with someone, or getting upset because of how I'd been made to feel. In fact, everyone had been on their best behavior. Even my mother hadn't tried to make a big deal out of my father's alcohol consumption, something that was always a point of contention when we ate as a family. I fell asleep, feeling like this might have been one of the best holidays I'd spent at home.

When I woke up, I was alone in the living room. The blankets were spread out on the couch, but ruffled in places as though someone had been laying on them. The TV and record player were both off, but I could hear gentle music playing faintly in a distant part of the house. I stood up and stretched, letting the stiffness out of my bones as I yawned. I went to the kitchen to get a drink of water, but found a bottle of beer waiting for me in the fridge. I popped the cap off with a bottle opener and made my way to the room I'd once slept in every night. The music I'd heard was coming from the end of the hall, where my parent's master bedroom was.

Their door was cracked open, and I could see the faint flickering of a television playing from inside. I was surprised no one had woken me up to go to bed, but I checked my phone and realized it wasn't really very late at all. If it was only 10 o'clock at night and I'd just napped for a few hours then it only made sense that the party might have moved on. I tried not to feel jealous or upset, knowing it was only a result of my own actions that I missed out on the chance to say good night to my family.

I went back to my room's door and glanced at the door across the hall from my parent's bedroom. My sister's room seemed not to have any lights on inside. The last time I'd lived at home I remembered her being an absolute night owl. Every time I'd wake up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, there would be a thin golden bar of light at the bottom of that doorway. Its absence was strangely disturbing. I shook my head and tried to push the feeling away, walking into my old room and shutting the door behind me. I decided that if everyone else was busy or had gone to bed then I would do the same.

I stripped down to my boxers and t-shirt before going to my dresser and pulling out some pajamas to wear. My mom always kept my old room ready for me, like it was just a guest bedroom that she hoped someday might be inhabited. The bed was always made and the closet was stocked with clean towels and spare blankets. I felt guilty as I pulled on a pair of flannel pants that were slightly too small and a cotton shirt with a faded picture of a video game character I'd once had lukewarm feelings about. I turned off the lights and got into my bed, letting the old mattress cradle me while the blankets did their work to insulate me from the cold night. I stared at the ceiling, feeling more awake than I ever had in my life.

Time passed, and I was worried that I would never be able to sleep again, but then I heard it.

The sound of my parent's door opening and closing across the hall from my room. Then the creak of floorboards in the hallway. I heard the sound of my sister's door open and shut. I checked my phone. 11:37. What had Sammie been doing in my parent's room for such a long time? My thoughts shot back to the sight of them leaning against each other at the dinner table. Why had his dad been sitting like that? Why had my father's arm been around her?

I tried to ignore the thoughts, but they kept coming. I was a man of science, and I couldn't stop myself from entertaining the idea that my sister might be doing something with my father. My mind raced and swirled as I tried to tell myself that it was wrong to think these things. That she was my sister and he was my dad, but I couldn't help myself from thinking about it. Thinking about what it might mean, about how it might have been happening for years. As I lay in my old bed and grappled with the situation my phone buzzed and made a 'plink' sound that indicated something work related. I sighed and checked the device, lifting it from the nightstand I'd covered in all sorts of stickers and garish sharpie drawings.

"11/24 unfortunately deceased early AM."

I clicked the phone off again and set it back down. I could delay for another day, perhaps stay another night and try to find out what was happening. I would talk to Sammie in the morning. Make sure she was doing ok. I closed my eyes and tried to force myself to sleep. I was home after all, and it was time to relax. It was something I was usually very good at, having learned about how precious sleep was in my many recent years of schooling and work in the medical field. For some reason, the only thing that kept swimming into my mind was the sight of my father's arm around my sister's shoulder. The sight of his fingers so near the swell of her breasts. The thought of him touching them. Disrobing her on my parent's bed while my mom watched.

I tried to sleep but found myself with a raging erection. I was furious and ashamed of myself for thinking the thoughts I was having. I turned over, trying to ignore how incredibly horny I was, but still I was unable to sleep. I tossed and turned for what seemed like hours but must have only been minutes. Eventually I gave up. I was a doctor, and I knew that sexual arousal was just a natural response to stimulus. My body was sending out chemical signals and making me feel restless and agitated, that was all. I was a healthy young man after all, and it was only normal.

I pulled my boxers down and let my cock spring free. I tried to think about past sexual conquests of mine, but the thought of my sister's adult womanly body kept intruding. It only made me more horny so I eventually relented, giving in to the desire to sexualize her body. She was 23 years old, an adult with a job and a degree. She also happened to have a lush mane of auburn red brown hair that shone in the sun. I thought about the pictures she'd posted on her social media that showed how shapely her body had become. Her breasts were sizeable, but no larger than a D cup I thought to myself. They were perky and full and matched the ripe swell of her hips. Finally, I thought about her thick ass, arguably her finest asset.

She had been waiting for me at the bus station, standing near her car and looking the opposite direction. I had been walking down the sidewalk towards her when I needed to stop to tie my shoe. As I bent to fix my laces, so had she, bending to pick something up from the ground. Her yoga pants were high quality, stretching to mold around her toned ass without becoming transparent or showing any panty lines. The sight of her buttocks gleaming like twin dark orbs in the morning sun was entrancing. I'd found myself staring for a moment or half a minute before I remembered what I was supposed to be doing and who I was ogling. I used that memory now, combining it with the idea that my father could possibly have been fucking that ass tonight to drive me to new levels of fucked up arousal. I knew he wasn't. It was impossible, I couldn't stop the urgent need to release myself sexual that the thought sent coursing through my veins.

I stroked my cock, relenting to let the heady rush of chemicals flood my brain as I let my imagination run wild. I imagined what might have happened just now, with my sister bent over my father's bed. What would I do? Would I try to stop it? Would I join? The thought made my cock twitch in my hand, and I realized I was about to cum. I turned over in bed, my cock throbbing with pent up need. I wanted to cum, and I wanted to cum while thinking about my sister. I wanted to make myself feel guilty for it, but I couldn't bring myself to. I pulled up one of my socks and quickly held it up to catch the explosion of semen that my penis sent shooting out. I felt my whole body tense up as my cock pulsed and sent rope after rope of hot, sticky cum into the soft fabric of the sock. I groaned softly into my pillow and squeezed my eyes shut. Some things were new, but other things were very much the same as ever.

In the morning, my mother was thrilled to hear that I would be staying for another night.

"Obviously, it's a tragedy, but for me, I can't help but feel a little thrill of happiness Robbie!" She said, smiling as she put her arms around me.

"It's good to be here mom, even if it is for a reason like this." I said, feeling like a giant compared to her.

Sammie and my parents were busy trying to catch sales and shop all day, so I spent some time relaxing at the house while everyone was gone. The house felt quiet without the usual presence of family to fill it. I hadn't brought many of my usual distractions, so I spent some time thumbing along the bookshelves, occasionally selecting an old favorite to thumb through for a moment of nostalgia before moving on. Eventually I settled on a well-worn paperback copy of War of the Worlds and decided to give it another read.

After about 20 pages, I started to get bored. It was a fine enough story, but nothing held my attention after the first few paragraphs. I decided to get up and explore the house a bit. Now that I'd been in it for longer than a few hours I was beginning to notice subtle changes and differences that clashed with my recollection of the place as it had been. There was a new cupboard and several new paintings. The corner where a stack of magazines had once languished was now a lounge space complete with a monstrous indoor plant and a chaise lounger. I had no idea how I'd overlooked it. I decided to go room by room to really take in the place I had grown up.

The kitchen seemed mostly the same aside from a new range. My mother still kept everything neat and organized, and it was the only room in the house that I found to have a truly minimalist aesthetic. The rest of the house looked lived in, but not the kitchen. The living room and the dining room were also very similar to how I remembered. Several closets and bathrooms later the only remaining spaces I hadn't looked at were my sister's room and the master bedroom. I found myself drawn to the door to Sammie's room and stood outside of it for several minutes debating whether or not I should enter. Eventually I decided that it wouldn't hurt, and opened the door and stepped inside.

I couldn't help but smile at the sight. She had posters on the walls and stuffed animals on her dresser. She had gotten a new bed, but much about the room was the same as I remembered it, aside from it's general tidiness. I walked over to her dresser and looked at the items that were neatly arranged on top. Her jewelry box was there, as was a small makeup mirror and several bottles of what I assumed was perfume. The room smelled nice, floral and sweet. There was a stack of books on one end of her dresser, so I picked one up and thumbed through it. I smiled as I saw a photo of a young Sammie grinning at the camera, her two front teeth missing. She had been so cute as a kid, and I found myself missing the years when she'd been around me and had always looked up to her older brother.