Peeking Sibling Rivalry

Vicky hadn't been like this since their first night together.

SHIT! VICKY was going to KILL him. FUCK! NO!

He was starting to panic but Ellen pulled his head down to her and guided his lips to hers.

"Don't worry, Daddy. It's just me. I love you. I want to be your good girl again. Please."

He was fucking his daughter. What the fuck? He was fucking his daughter. It was true. It was happening.

"Ah!" he said as he pulled out of her and splashed his cum all over her belly.

Then he laid back and tried to get back to his senses. His reason. Oh, no. This was bad. This was definitely bad.

He watched Ellen as her naked body got up to go take a quick shower. While she was gone, he laid there, wondering what to do. What to say. Where to run in case Vicky ever found out. His family, his life could be destroyed from this. Why had he done it?

He hadn't even answered one question yet when Ellen came back.

He remained very still. She got in bed and moved her naked body right up next to him.

"Daddy. I want more."

"Tonight?"

"Every night."

He turned to look at her with shock. She was biting her bottom lip. "Fuck me, Daddy. It has to be you or no one."

She reached for his cock and then guided him to his back. She got on top of him and inserted him into her. Her face was so cute just then. Ok. Ok, baby. He closed his eyes and fucked her.

...

He opened his eyes and the first thing he thought was that he was thirsty. He tried to get up but then there was a pain in his head. The details of what was around him started to be understood.

The sounds and the smell of the place tipped him off that this was a hospital. He had an IV in his arm and he was in a hospital bed. Well, that's a very scary way to just wake up. There was some woman sleeping with her head at the foot of his bed. She wasn't wearing any kind of uniform so he figured she wasn't staff or anything.

He had the distinct feeling like he was supposed to be somewhere. He was late for something. He was supposed to ... be driving. Yeah. Something about a car. He slowly started to sit up and he brought his hands to his lap. That was weird. They looked wrong. They didn't look like his hands. He got the feeling like he knew what his hands should look like but they were not his hands. There was just something wrong with them. But what?

He started to move his legs so he could get out of bed and stand up. That got the woman's attention. She stirred slowly but then she turned her head to look at him. Her eyes went wide and she jumped to her feet.

"Aah!" she screamed loudly.

He just put his hands up to block an attack.

She rushed him, put her arms around him and started kissing him all over his face.

"Thank God. Thank God. Thank God." She continued like that for quite a bit before she pulled back with tears in her eyes to look at him.

His instincts were telling him that she obviously cared about him. She had obviously been worried about him. He put on a smile for her to show appreciation even as he was looking for the exit with the corner of his eye.

'Hi.' he tried to say but nothing would come out. Wow. If this situation wasn't already scary enough, he couldn't talk.

"Are you in pain?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Don't worry. I'll go get someone."

Before she could just rush off, he pointed to her phone and reached out, asking for it.

She nodded. "Here you are." she said as she unlocked it and handed it to him. Why would a mute person need a phone. Not to make a call.

Then she left to get someone for him. As soon as she was out of sight he started going through the settings. Accounts. Profiles. Her name was Victoria Thatcher. Damn, even just the name sounded overbearing. Where's facebook? What kind of person carries a smartphone but doesn't have facebook? What was this? A prayer app? Ok, come on. Give me something.

Contacts. He figured if he was her boyfriend then he might be listed as that. There were portraits next to a few names but it all just looked unfamiliar to him. There was a Kelly Thatcher in there. Maybe that was him. Was he her husband? No. Can't be. He would certainly know if he were married or not. Then again, he thought he'd certainly know if he were white or not but he was surprised by that. And that lady was foxy enough to date so why not. What better way to put a long hospital stay behind you than to tap some ass?

Photos. He looked at the people. Were there any photos of himself? Each face was a stranger. That lady obviously knew him. Oh, she's a religious person. Just his luck, he'd be stuck being married to some church hypocrite. Oh, look, the whole family together. Two daughters and some snot nosed son sulking off to the side. He flipped through a few more pictures. His daughters looked like the active sort. They were generally happy. Well, that's nice. If he was going to have to put up with them, they could at least smile for him. There was nothing worse than a woman who didn't know how to smile. It looked like the son was just some loser who sat in his room all the damn time. Well, no matter. Just so long as he stays out of the way.

He opened the camera app and got it to act like a mirror. What the hell? He looked at the face and then he looked around to see if anyone was watching him. Was there a hidden camera? Was this a joke? A tv program or something? He looked at the face again and did some silly motions to make sure. He touched his face with his hands. That wasn't him. That wasn't his face. It was wrong. It was all wrong. From the nose to the skin color, it was wrong. And then he realized, he wasn't the father in the family. No. He was the son. Fuck. That sucks.

This was bad. He couldn't put more words to it than that but this was bad. He didn't belong here. This wasn't his life. He felt like he'd been body swapped with someone else.

He heard people coming so he quickly went into the contacts. The son. Who was the son? Carl. Got it.

Calendar app. Son's birthday. Oh, not that long ago.

The people passed his room so he could relax again. He didn't know what kind of game was going on but he just needed to play along for long enough to get out of there and then he could make his escape.

Email. How to do laundry? What? Where to put the vacuum. How to cook the dinner. Where to drop off the clothes. Which prayers to say so Carl will wake up. Oh, yeah, that was supposed to be him. How long had he been in this place?

Text messages. Well, she didn't text very much. Her husband had sent her a screen shot of another phone. In the image he could see that it was someone else's text history.

______________________________" " "

||

|Carl - Prayer is for suckers. |

|God is a lie. |

|When I get home |

|I'm taking your ass |

|whether you let me or not.|

||

|Ellen - No. |

|You can't mean it. |

|Who's making you do this? |

|I can help you. |

||

|Carl - If you want to help, |

|be naked when I come |

|to your room tonight |

|and keep your mouth shut.|

||

|Ellen - I'm not going to talk |

|to you anymore |

|if you're going |

|to be like this.|

||

|Carl - Fine by me. |

|But get ready |

|to be raped tonight. |

|_____________________________|

" " "

Holy shit! What kind of fucking asshole was he? Ellen. The daughter's name is Ellen. That meant she was his sister. He was going to rape his sister? Oh shit.

Ok, look on the bright side. He wasn't in handcuffs. Ok. That was good. Clothes. He wanted clothes. Get this fucking thing out of his arm. OUCH. How deep does that damn thing go? SHIT!

Great, and now he was bleeding. Come on. This is a hospital, there had to be one of those $1000 band aids around. No. FUCK. So instead he wrapped a face towel around it and tied it taunt right before yanking off the hospital bracelet.

There were some clothes that looked like the kind of thing some idiot religious teenager would wear in a basket. He wondered how many times he'd been forced to suck the priest's cock while wearing this shirt. For all he knew, he'd been anally raped countless times while his mother watched and prayed that it would inject Jesus into his heart. No wonder he was a psycho who raped his own sister.

He got dress and left the phone there on the bed as he left the room. No need in adding theft to his list of crimes. Not that it would matter if he had really raped his sister. They put you under the jail for that kind of shit.

He passed a cop and he tried to just keep his eyes forward and not let on that the cop was freaking him out. Walk normally. Just walk normally.

He turned the corner. ANOTHER cop. Was this the jail house hospital or something. And ANOTHER cop.

Down the steps. Follow the signs. Use the elevator. Go down the hall. Pass another fucking jackass cop who had no business looking at him. Go get a donut, porky; and leave me the hell alone.

Ok. Good. The front doors were right there. Nothing was stopping him from just leaving. Eyes forward and walk. Going well. Going well. Almost free. Open.

The air outside was very different from the air in the building. There was a heat and a stickiness to it. No matter. There was a bus stop not that far away. As he walked he felt his pockets. No money. But by the bus stop there was a map, plus it wouldn't look suspicious for someone to just stand at a bus stop whereas he might call attention to himself if he just stood in front of the hospital.

As he was looking at the city map and figuring out where he was in the world a police car rolled up on him.

"Hey. You bleeding?"

He just shrugged.

"Are you ok?"

He didn't answer but he felt like saying 'I'm fine.'

The cop was about to roll on but then the cop stopped. "You got ID on you?"

He shook his head no.

"You got to have ID. What's your name?"

He put his palms up to say that he just didn't have ID. Something in his mind was telling him that the Supreme Court had actually said you don't need ID. It was too bad he couldn't bring that up.

The cop raised the cop's eyebrow and then decided to get out of the cop's car. "Ok. You want to be a mute, huh? Get over here."

Am I under arrest or am I free to leave? He'd taken a class once where a guy had taught him to say that if he was detained by police. And now that he could put that to use, it did him no good.

"Put your hands on the car."

As the cop was patting him down he remembered that he should be saying 'I do not consent to any searches.' Being unable to talk really sucked.

The cop forcefully grabbed his privates and then squeezed. Pain. He squealed but was unable to make anything that resembled a word.

"No ID. No wallet. No keys. Where the hell you going?"

He wanted to be going to have a chat with this guy's supervisor.

The cop cuffed him behind his back. Then, there in the backseat of that car, something happened that would have left him speechless if he weren't already that way.

Later.

Down at the police station or jail or whatever this place was he was handcuffed to a round metal handrail in the hallway of the jail. He had pink sticky stuff on his fingertips from the fingerprint machine.

"No match." he overheard the heavy set policeman say. Then they called out to him. "Hey, asshole. You got a name?"

He just looked down in shame.

"Give me your name."

Lawyer. He wanted a lawyer.

"Oh, we're going to have a real good time with this one. I'll put him down as John Doe 26. What you charging him with?"

"Operating a vehicle without a license. Failure to ID. Obstruction of Justice. Loitering. Public indecency. Public intoxication. Public disorderly. Failure to keep the peace. Possession of Drug paraphernalia. Possession of a stolen fire arm. Resisting arrest. Battery on a Legal officer."

"That all?" the other cop asked.

"Unless he wants to tell us his name. How about it, punk?"

He couldn't answer but in that moment he wouldn't have wanted to answer anyway.

"Add, terroristic threats and sexual assault of a minor."

"Why stop there? Keep going." the heavy one taunted.

The arresting officer thought for a second. "Kidnapping. False imprisonment. Making racial slurs in public. Attempted murder with a motor vehicle. Making a false police report. Oh, and parking illegally."

After waiting for a very long time in that hallway, chained to the wall, they eventually led him to a room where they told him to strip and then they issued him a prison uniform. They noticed that he was bleeding from his arm so they had the medic come and patch him up. Then they marched him down another hall and then through a maze of halls before putting him into a very large cell with dozens of other inmates. There were metal tables and metal stools here and there and off to the side there were some hallways that had bunks. Most of the prisoners were watching the tvs that hung from the ceiling.

Well, at least he wasn't charged with rape. Had to look for the silver lining. Someone used to always tell him that but he couldn't remember who.

Right before dinner he was issued some bedding for his bunk and he found an empty bunk to sleep in. He made his bed and then he went with the rest of them to a cafeteria to eat the food. Wow. He was actually really hungry. He felt like he hadn't eaten in a very long time.

Upon returning to the very big cell he tried to find his bunk but somehow it was gone. Oh, come on. His memory wasn't that bad.

"Yo, man. Yours is this one." one of the prisoners said to him. The bunk he showed him had been stripped of everything save the mattress. Seven or eight inmates all started laughing.

"Sweet dreams, white boy."

A few hours later, it was lights out. He didn't actually feel like sleeping but with nothing to do and no one to talk to he eventually allowed himself to drift off. Maybe when he woke up, he'd be back in that hospital again.

...

"It's not my fault." Ellen protested. "Daddy, tell her. I'm a good girl."

"He was looking at this when he ran." Vicky said as she shoved the phone with the image in her face.

"I didn't show it to him."

"You and your lies. Why do I even keep you in this house?"

Kelly went to his wife and tried to get her to calm down. Karen was smart enough to stay out of sight. She tried to think of where Carl would actually go but he hadn't gone to Vocational School and he didn't go to his job. Everyone at the hospital was on the look out for him and even the police were searching.

How does someone just vanish?

"Try his girlfriend again." Vicky said.

Karen tried the number. "Still no answer."

"It's not my fault." Ellen protested again.

"Shut your little tramp mouth before I put my shoe down your lying throat." Vicky said as she turned back to the front door of the house.

All night long she called and drove to every hospital, homeless shelter, train station, 24 hour shopping center, and any other place that someone might go.

Why would he run? What was he thinking? Didn't he trust them to believe him?

Sporadically through the night Karen called Vicky to let her know that she'd checked a certain place or other and he wasn't there. Well, at least she was trying to help which was more than she could say for her husband or her other daughter.

Vicky was exhausted when she came into the house right as the sun was coming up. She was just going to crash on the sofa but Karen had already done that. Fine. She walked to her bedroom and opened the door.

What was this? Ellen was in bed with her husband. She couldn't even begin to have the energy to deal with this. She walked down the hall to Carl's room and looked at his bed. She laid down and noticed that it didn't smell like him anymore. It was really Karen's bed now. But not for the next hour. For the next hour, it was her bed.

...

Morning. He was cold. He felt stiff as he got out of bed, he had to rub his hands together to get them to warm up.

He marched out with everyone to get breakfast and there were lots of various conversations around him. Then a hush came over one of the tables and people all started to look towards him. He just shrugged.

He looked around with a questioning look.

"You're some kind of white supremacist?" someone asked him.

He shook his head negative.

"That's what the guards say. Look, bitch, you better watch your back."

Well, maybe that's why these guys were prisoners and not free men. They were stupid, gullible sheep ready to believe anything some liar tells them. Good job, morons. Maybe if you all could think for yourselves you wouldn't be in here.

Back at the large shared cell, he was standing by the wall just minding his own business.

"Doe." the guard yelled out from the other side of the bars. "Doe." The guard yelled out again.

He watched as the other prisoners looked around.

"Don't make me ask again. Doe!"

Someone came up to him and said "He's asking for you."

"M mm mm me?" he finally stuttered.

"Doe." the guard yelled. "John Doe."

He just shrugged and walked up to the bars.

"Why didn't you come the first time I asked for you?"

"ah. ah. Ai c c can n nn."

The guard laughed. "Man. I ain't got time for this. Bring me your bed dressings."

"P pp p hhha mm."

"We issued them to you. Where are they?"

He started trying to gesture since actual sign language was unknown to him and mostly likely to the guard as well. "Puh."

The guard got board and decided to cut to the chase. The guard waved at another guard who was behind the dark glass on the opposite wall. Then the tvs in the cell all went off and there was an upset clamor from the prisoners.

"This man don't have no bed sheets. Until his bed is made like everyone else's there will be no tv and no visitation."

Well, as he quickly discovered, that was a good way to cause moaning and complaining among the inmates. It was almost comical to look at. The little stress bomb went on like that for a full ten minutes and then someone yelled out "Fuck, he can have mine. Damn."

That prisoner had apparently been in there so long, the prisoner had somehow acquired an extra set that was older and faded. The inmate put the bedding on his bunk.

"There you go."

He bowed in appreciation.

"Fuck you, whitey."

A few moments passed and he didn't move from his spot by the wall. The tvs stayed off.

"Damn, motherfucker. Go make your bed." someone said.

He shrugged.

"Just go do it."

He shook his head. "N nn No."

When they all heard that, three guys got up from where they were sitting and started walking in formation over to where he was standing. He didn't know if they wanted to talk or fight but he had already decided what he was going to do. Something inside him was saying that they were going to hit him. A faint voice in the back of his mind said 'Hey nigger. I got something for you.'

The moment that the first one was in range, he threw the hardest, deepest punch his body would let out. The prisoners all seemed shocked and several hands reached for him to try and grab him. He dodged as best he could and avoided a swing at his face. He saw another target and then he struck again.

The fight didn't last very long. The guards all rushed in and started subduing whoever they thought was in the altercation. He was dragged off to a cell for just one person on a hallway that smelled like shit. It was rank, too. It was so bad, it felt like it was burning inside his nostrils. And there was no getting away from it. It made it difficult to eat dinner.

However, the good thing about this was he could sit and stutter in peace. He struggled to get a few words out. The first word that actually came out was "puck". Learning to talk again gave him a huge headache and it pounded away in his skull with each new word he relearned to force out.