Mating Impulse Ch. 01

Author's Note: As is usual to state on Literotica, all characters participating in sexual acts occurring in this story are at least 18 years of age.

Originally, this was planned to be a single one-off story, an anthology consisting of various semi-self-contained stories united only by the common trigger. Then, my writing pace declined as my workload increased, and before I realized it, it was over a month since I thought I'd finish this story and move to something else, with the end nowhere in sight. So, with the first few chapters already finished and the last ones still being worked on, I decided to go ahead with breaking the story down to its constituent parts and releasing them one by one.

This is the only chapter containing two parts of the story (Prologue outlining the overall situation and the trigger for the stories, and a normal story focusing on a sexual encounter between a father and a daughter, which wasn't originally supposed to be published first but I put it together with the prologue due to it being the shortest one), the others will all contain only one story each.

This part will be posted in the Mind Control category, the others will go into the Incest/Taboo one.

Those stories include themes of incest, mind control, and overall quite questionable consent. If any of those offend you, you have been informed, choosing whether to continue reading is only your decision to make.

***

Prologue

Eternally unseen, the device floated through the endless, black void of space, a meaningless, unending, eons-long journey continuing.

If it had a name, it was forgotten now.

All the creators it had were dead by now.

If it had a home, it was gone by now.

If its journey had a goal, it wasn't informed of it.

It did have a purpose though, one it ceaselessly continued to fulfill even now as a half-broken wreck, with its only source of energy being whatever it managed to capture from the light of the far-off stars.

The device was a motivator. Or, more precisely, it could be described as an urger. Perhaps some of the more grammatically correct synonyms, such as compulsioner, hankerer, or, for the weaker minds, forcer, would also be a correct description, but all described the device's purpose quite aptly.

As all of those variously dread-inducing and grammatically correct titles implied, the device was created to guide living beings' actions and to do so in quite a forceful manner.

Functioning on a principle which many even of its creators' race would describe as "magical" due to its complexity and difficulty to be understood, the device was, using a complicated mix of electromagnetic signals adapted to whatever frequency the targeted minds operated at, capable of forcing them to focus on achieving the goals its algorithm judged to be their most important.

In its original role, it was used in space-faring, and in this area, the device was indispensable in the role it was created to perform.

Due to cultural taboos that outsiders would likely describe as "extreme technophobia-slash-xenophobia", its creators never created other minds than their own. No AIs, no new lifeforms created in the lab, no provolved animals. They even went as far as not even creating any new minds out of their own, eschewing any but the most rudimentary genetic engineering.

The problems with this approach soon made themselves known, as their species began to traverse the stars.

They simply weren't made for it. What they had inside of their brains simply couldn't get them through space in any other way than theoretically. Were they extant and in contact with humanity, the device's creators would be described, and in fact, mostly were described by their contemporaries, as exceptionally boorish, thuggish, and animalistic beings, placing short-term pleasures and gratifications of bodily needs above nearly everything else and with little ability to think long-term and analytically.

A race few would believe capable of creating something like the device, nevermind trying to traverse the stars, so it was little surprise to anyone, even themselves when all of their interstellar missions failed due to various "human" errors.

And in a society where fighting to the death was always a common way to die, going through life without "gifting" some corrupt official was effectively impossible, and everyone knew at least one person who raped somebody, there were a lot of fatal "human" errors to choose from.

And then, the device was created.

Overnight, the situation turned around.

Using its high-level decision-making, situation-judging algorithm, the device could decide what goals the beings under its watch were supposed to seek and using its electromagnetic impulses, it could force their minds to follow them.

To say it was a game-changer would be an understatement of Biblical proportions.

With the devices nested as close to the optimal spot as possible on each one of their starships, periodically bathing the brains of all members of the crew in their guiding bursts of electricity, with the goal of survival and accomplishing the mission being firmly defined as their highest priority, the blunders of the past were done with forever.

No longer was any ship, or life, to be lost to the follies of their primitive nature. No longer was any crew member, no matter how bloodlusted, to kill any other one. No longer was any rival agent, no matter how devious, to fatally sabotage any mission. No longer was any crew of a long-term mission, no matter how lazy, to forget the essentials of their mission, or fail to teach it to their offspring, etc., etc.

If it could speak, the device, now floating endlessly through the eternal void, would do nothing but affirm the truth of this new state of affairs for its long-gone creators, though, truth be told, it didn't need to speak to do so, as its scarred and cracked exterior, undoubtedly damaged by weapons of great power, was proof by itself of the fact that any ships lost to its creators, after this game-changing event, were so by the hands of hostile foreign forces.

Said hostile foreign forces were also, undoubtedly, the cause of its creators' demise, long ago. Perhaps even their own, having turned their weapons on themselves after finding no outsiders to fight.

This, however, the device did not concern itself with in the slightest.

For now, flying through the endless, pitch-black void at a significant fraction of the speed of light, said extreme speed and its damaged exterior serving as a cold reminder of the brutal way in which it was ripped from the rest of its ship, the only concern of the device was continuing its mission.

Harnessing energy from every source it could, whether it were the faint rays of stellar light which reached it, the omnipresent microwave background radiation, or the once-in-many-millennia treat in the form of a gamma-ray burst, it took everything it could to absorb, to power itself, to have the strength to carry on its mission to guide biological minds to what they had to do, what they needed to do, even if they didn't realize it.

And so, that was what it did, unceasingly. For eons, every single time it had enough power to do it, without fail, it sent a burst of its calibrated electromagnetic impulses into the space around it, trying in vain to fulfill its purpose, even with no minds around to adjust its impulses to and being able to only send out the most basic "Continue existing, achieve your goals." orders.

An AI of a higher order, realizing the futility of its continued activity, and indeed, its very continued existence, would have shut itself off a long time ago. Perhaps, were it not damaged, the device would have as well.

But it did not. And for its unceasing dedication, it was about to be rewarded.

If it had sensors to observe the world around it, as well as a mind to think about said observations, it would've likely already noticed the yellow dwarf star whose gravity captured it, drawing it towards itself, into its orbit, though it likely wouldn't have thought much about it.

As it cruised through space to it, the gravitational pull of the stars' satellites trying to nab it for themselves, its interest in its new surroundings might have been piqued a little.

As the gravitational waves of all of the objects trying to claim it ended up positioning it right in front of one of the smaller planets in the system, its seemingly endless journey through space now finally destined to end due to a billion-to-one coincidence, its mind would probably be overwhelmed by feelings it hadn't felt for eons.

And as it hit the surface of one of the countless bodies of water which covered most of this planet and sank to its bottom, its body turning unmoving for the first time in ages, and the electromagnetic sensors with which it scanned its surroundings to detect living minds, which were, in reality, the only sensors with which it could interpret the outside world, finally again flooded its system with signs of life all around, it would've likely turned utterly ecstatic as never before.

But, of course, it didn't have a mind to do all of this.

All it could do was do what it had always done.

Scan the minds around it, determine their top priorities, and force them to focus on them. It was already obvious it was in a much different environment than the spaceships it was created for. Unlike the spaceships which were populated by minds of one kind, with a clearly defined common mission, the beings all around it didn't have much in common at all. They ran through the entire spectrum of complexity, from ones so tiny and simple as to be virtually indistinguishable from simple automatons, belonging to the insects of this world, to ones similarly complex to those of its creators, held by this world's dominant species.

Not even those most complex were anything near what it was created to affect, however, so its effects on them will become null over time, after a couple dozen "doses". By that time, though, it would hopefully leave some permanent imprint on them.

The fact that, instead of having to work together to survive, all of those lifeforms were simply living their lives paradoxically made finding common orders for them easier.

Those thousands of species all around it would probably not understand 99% of what the others were doing 99% of the time, but there was the most basic 1% they all shared, and it was specifically this most basic 1% which, in absence of any points of reference, the device had so much experience with sending during its finally-ended journey through space.

"Protect yourself."

"Continue living."

"Procreate."

Waters family

"Ufff," Jeanie Waters breathed out deeply as she got the tight bikini top on. It was painful but worth it, she said to herself.

As she looked in the mirror, she liked what she saw.

The tight bikini top firmly held her large, E-cup breasts, making them appear even larger as they overflowed from its grasp. Her small bubble butt was, likewise, firmly grasped by a similarly tight bikini bottom. Her luscious dark hair, long slender legs, and clear milky skin looked perfect, as always. With her large blue eyes, cute lips and small, dainty hands and feet to top it off, it was clear that nature was very merciful to her.

Her freshly 18-year-old body was perfect, and she was ready to show it off to the world.

Then, she heard loud knocking on the door.

"Come in!" she replied carelessly, not taking her gaze off of the mirror image of herself.

"For God's sake, Jeanie!" Rolland blurted out the moment he stepped in.

"What?" his daughter replied angrily, as she turned her head towards him.

"Again?! Don't you think that's too much? I mean, my God, look at yourself," he said.

"I did, just now," she replied resolutely "And you know what? I love it."

So did he, of course, as the hardening cock between his legs quickly made him realize, much to his chagrin.

But, of course, that wasn't something he'd ever say to her, even were he not her father.

"You look like some friggin' bimbo," he said angrily "Get something else on. Just because we live where we do, with almost no one to look at you, doesn't mean I'll just let you waltz around looking like some stripper."

"I won't," she replied angrily "I won't, sorry. I'm 18 now. You know what that means? My body, my rules. I decide what to wear, whether just to walk around the house in, or to go swimming like I'm going to do now!"

She angrily stomped out of the room as she said that. He didn't even try to stop her. With a sigh, he went back to the living room downstairs, resting himself on the couch.

With the hard-on raging in his pants, he briefly thought about masturbating, then quickly ejected the thought out of his mind. It was wrong. Him getting a hard-on from looking at his daughter's body was simply wrong. And yet, it was happening more and more for the last few months, and with good reason.

Every day, she seemed to act, and dress, sluttier, and sluttier. He had no idea why she acted like this. Some kind of a cry for attention, for help? Maybe she missed her mother? He also missed his wife, but she decided to leave them and spend so little time communicating with them. Maybe she just didn't like that they moved here?

Anyway, he'd have to talk with her about this soon, get her to start acting normally again. This was becoming too much.

While her father thought about her behavior and their recent living situation, she was quickly, and angrily, making her way to the pond near their house.

He just didn't get it.

Yes, that was right. He. Just. Didn't. Get. It.

When she comes home, he'll subject her to yet another lecture of how showing off her body is wrong, on how she should behave, how it's not her fault that her mother left them to live her life (As if she cared about that.), how he understands it's hard to adapt to a new living situation, new surroundings and yadda, yadda, yadda.

He just, as she told herself a moment before, flat-out didn't get it. She didn't do what she did because she was coping with some trauma. She didn't do it to piss him off, even though that was a nice bonus. She didn't force herself to act unnaturally out of pain, waiting for him to say the right words so she could go back to being the good, chaste girl he had always seen her as, and desperately wanted to continue to do so.

She did it because she liked it. She might've even said she loved it. She loved dressing revealingly, provocatively, and show off her body. Why? Because she had something to show off, and she damn well knew it. She was sexy and she knew it.

She stopped, feeling her heart beating faster and faster. Suddenly, she felt as if an electric jolt ran through her body, as if some kind of electric bold set her entire nervous system on fire for an instant, flooding her mind with a mix of various thoughts and feelings.

Yes, she was friggin' hot. That wasn't her ego talking to her, that was simply the unarguable truth. She was hot, and if she wanted to dress slutty to show it, then she could.

Suddenly, her mind completely exploded, while her pussy once again was set on fire by as if hit by some bolt of electricity.

Suddenly, she knew exactly what she needed to do.

Suddenly, she knew that, since she was dressing so slutty, then, of course, she was quite a slutty girl. She was a really slutty girl, and she loved it! She knew that and she knew what she had to do. Being a slutty girl, no, simply a slut, she had to do the sluttiest things imaginable.

It was all so obvious, how could she not realize it sooner!

Turning back towards the house, she set herself to do the one thing only a true slut could do.

Before she did so, her father, his heart beating louder and louder in his chest, thought about her.

The more he did so, the angrier he was becoming. Teenage rebelliousness was one thing, but what she was doing was starting to be insane. Prancing around dressed like a fuck doll? Ignoring him and talking back when not?

How dare she, after everything he did for her?

He was the one who was always there for her, even before his wife left them. Hell, he was the only one who was ever there for her, and this was how she was paying him back for that?

Talking back at him, raising her voice at him, dressing like a slut?

He just wanted to help her. He just wanted to help her, to help her see she was on the wrong course with her behavior, and to get her to act like a normal girl again.

Then, suddenly, everything felt different. For a moment, as he felt an electric shock briefly, gently, wash over his body, the entire world felt different, lighter, brighter.

Suddenly, as his mind was momentarily going crazy, he saw their situation in a different light.

Why didn't he ever think of it this way?

Helping her was what he wanted most in the world. Everything he did for the last few years was, in some way, to help her. It was what he lived for now, his prime directive he could say. She was his child, his only child for God's sake, and he wanted only the best for her.

But now, he realized he might've been doing it wrong.

Surely, helping her doesn't have to mean making her dress and act like some nun, does it? Just about all the girls her age dress like sluts now as they post titillating pictures of themselves and their most enchanting body parts all over the internet. Why should she be different? Why shouldn't she be the best? Helping her show off her beautiful body would surely be just the help she actually needed, wouldn't it?

Images of her voluptuous, naked body filled his mind.

Yes, all the young girls now are sluts, she is no different. But she is his daughter and he is her loving father, so, what else is he to do than help her in that?

His blood-filled, swollen cock was now rock hard in his pants.

The doors opened.

In the door frame stood the voluptuous figure of his beautiful daughter, her large breasts overflowing from the small bikini barely covering her nipples, her clear, tight skin shining in the sunlight and her large, clear eyes gazing at him pleadingly.

"Daddy," she said in a voice dry and heavy with arousal "I need your help with something. Urgently." She said as she started slowly walking towards him, her long, slender legs moving with a feline sensuousness.

"I know," he replied meekly, his eyes glued on her striking figure.

His heart skipped a beat as he watched her coming closer and closer.

"You know your daddy is always there for you, honey," he said as he unzipped his jeans and let them fall to the floor, making her loudly swallow as she saw the large cock tearing its way through his boxers.

It was obvious to both of them what was going to happen. Most people would find it disgusting. Neither cared about that.

Their hands started frantically touching each others' bodies, while their tongues intertwined and their lips sealed together. After making out for a couple of seconds in pure erotic passion, they quickly started undressing, with Rolland's T-shirt and boxers soon being thrown on the floor and Jeanie's tiny bikini, both parts of it, soon following on top of them, fully freeing the luscious curves of her body at last.

Guided by a force they didn't know anything about and only barely acknowledged, a father and daughter stood before each other, their naked bodies separated by nothing except the humid air in the room.

Resuming their making-out session, he picked up his daughter's slim body, his hands grasping her perfect butt as her legs locked onto his waist. After continuing their lustful kissing session in this uncomfortable position for half a minute, he laid her body down on the couch, positioning himself on top of her.