The Origins of Incest Island

A dedication: To my friend Cherry White, for inspiring Incest Island with Incest Magazine.

From the desk of Samuel Clementine:

This is a bisexual novel about the Bloom family, the first incestuous family to take up residence in the fabled Lot's Cove. In my own experience, the build-up is what makes incest/taboo stories worthwhile. While I have introduced the different interactions between family members with a deliberate attempt towards pacing, the waiting is the hardest part...

This fits into almost every category: novels and novellas, gay, lesbian, anal, first time, nonconsent, and especially exhibitionist and voyeur. I chose incest as I believe it best attracts the appropriate audience. Though I considered breaking it into parts, it would have interfered with the flow and design of this stand-alone story. While I encourage the curious to read on - if this is not your thing - no harm in turning back now...

One final note - I begin writing this novel without the ability to even open my computer, my wife being kind enough to start the talk to text program. Though I have recovered significantly from several surgeries, this endeavor would not have been possible without my editors mycroft_mania and larry74403.

This is my submission to the Nude Day Contest, please vote, and as always, should you catch any mistakes, please consider volunteering as an editor.

Prologue: A Strange New World

Oh God, Daddy, fuck me harder!"

Bethany stopped dead in her tracks and wondered if she was actually listening to a woman screaming for her real, biological father. Even on this island, where little else seemed forbidden, such a thing would be unspeakable, wouldn't it? Barely 18, Bethany wasn't sexually experienced. But in the past few weeks, she had so learned much, thanks to a steady diet of erotic art, literature, and photos - all of which she'd seen in her uncle's home.

She stood out in the open, completely naked, embracing her strange, sensual new life in this extraordinary community. It had only been a few weeks and things were still new. But more anyone else in her family, she was adjusting to wild and erotic ideas that fueled this hedonistic haven.

To experience a place where nudity and sex were freely encouraged was strange enough, but living here with her conservative family was bizarre. In the past few months, so many things had changed: roles had been reversed, altered and altogether abandoned. It all merged to create a swirl of exotic and forbidden pleasures in her imagination. She wondered if her family's constant proximity, as well as the carnal pleasures that were so openly shared on the island, had given rise to the fantasies that now claimed her attention.

Could she really be overhearing a father fuck his daughter?

She wondered one more thing as she inched closer.

Why is that thought exciting?

This had definitely been a day filled with firsts. Though she couldn't see them yet, Bethany had never been this close to people actually having sex. It was so openly brazen and explicit. She'd set out to simply wander around naked, but now the idea of doing more sent a shiver of excitement, tingling up her spine, shaking every nerve responsible for sexual stimulation.

The cacophony of screams, moans, and grunts echoed into the soft summer night. Bethany thought of going down there, moving from behind the hidden path and into the clearance. She imagined seeing some gorgeous petite 18-year-old girl like herself riding a big, thick cock attached to an older man who might share the two of them. She imagined walking up to them, showing off her puffy nipples, hard from the cold air. She dreamt of herself down there, amidst the rest of the sexual deviants, nudists, and queers.

"Oh God, Daddy! You're so big..."

Bethany's mind raced with the possibilities. Despite the initial revulsion at what she heard, her thoughts drifted towards her dad. There couldn't be anything more forbidden than a young girl seeing her father fully engorged, driving his cock deep inside of her body. And after a lifetime of sexual suppression, something deep inside of her mixed these new, erotic thoughts together.

Before Bethany realized what she was doing, her hands were exploring between her bare legs. She touched herself almost accidentally. And as she heard the voices in the distance, she imagined herself inserted into the elaborate roleplay. Experiencing a tingle of sensation, she started to go even further, forgetting that she now stood out in the open ground, where anyone could see.

She started stroking her burning sex as she desperately tried to find a solution to this new desire. It had been building up inside of her since leaving her home in rural Oklahoma and moving to this island. As the screams of pleasure built, she crept closer, remaining far enough away to only see the silhouettes of the naked residents.

She was so afraid. Afraid of being caught, either by these strangers or her father. Afraid of her own feelings and what they might mean. She knew it would have been best to simply walk away from the scene, to pretend she had never seen anything. Hadn't she already pushed things far enough by skinny dipping in the ocean? And yet......

Her fingers moved with determined purpose, finding a spot above her pussy that seemed almost perfect as she rubbed harder and faster. More... she needed more, and yet she knew she couldn't ask.

She had to hide her excitement - to hide her newfound interest and curiosity in everything sexual. Bethany's own father found the very idea of the island abhorrent. But in just one week, she'd discovered more about her own sexuality than she thought possible, and as a result, it simmered and smoldered. Part of her wanted, no needed, her father to know the cravings this move had awakened, and for him to approve. If only to appreciate the gift her uncle had given them.

She'd never known her Uncle Liam, and that had been deliberate. And yet, as she played with herself, chancing that someone else might see , Bethany recalled hearing his voice, basked in the glow of the television. And with this memory of her departed uncle in her mind, Bethany stepped close enough to see the lovers, opening herself up to the island...

Chapter One: An Immodest Proposal

1988

"Wow, this is a lot more uncomfortable when I realized it was going to be, okay, where to begin, well I am dead."

The voice of Liam Bloom boomed rather than rambled out of the tiny speakers on the projector. The rest of the Bloom family stood transfixed watching. Liam looked at his age, 60 or so at the time of filming. A notorious Luddite, the poor quality of Liam Bloom's video made it seem decades older. This was in no account a reflection of the wealth behind his will and testament. A lifetime of achievement in science fiction literature and a series of prudent investments had made him wealthy beyond measure.

In the background, the lawyer's modern office stood in contrast to the grainy, aged 8-millimeter film stock. It was an elaborate firm, the kind with several receptionists. The decor boasted of its occupant's accomplishments, and everything on the screen created an extravagant display of opulence designed to delude the mind with images of the owner's power and prestige.

Watching the film was Liam's only family in the world since his wife passed - his brother Martin, Martin's wife Mary, and their twin children, Brian and Bethany. Martin and Mary had been high school sweethearts. When Mary became pregnant with the twins, they got married during their senior year of high school. They were a family of four, stereotypically suburban and middle-class, and Brian and Bethany proved to be wonderful children

Martin had never spoken to his children about their Uncle Liam, except in vague stories. He simply shut down any sort of conversation about why they never saw each other. As Brian and Bethany both entered their senior year of high school, neither were really aware that their uncle was actually alive and doing something in the world. And now he was talking to them in the most surreal of circumstances. From beyond the grave, departing instructions as to what was to be done with his worldly remains.

"So I'm going to assume that I'm just talking to Marty, and here goes nothing. Brother, I'm sorry for how things have been between us. I'm sorry for my part in it. And I know that the times that I've apologized, it's been too late."

The old, wrinkled face behind that bushy beard took a deep breath and paused as if considering how best to put what needed to be said.

"Please don't think that it's because I do not care about you, that I give this to you. It is my life's work, or at least what I actually accomplished with my life. Savanna and I, Jesus that's hard to think about. That it's been four years without her..."

Liam Bloom struggled for a second, almost unable to reconcile the memory of his dead wife with the new reality he had been forced to accept.

"I'm giving you Liam's Cove, that's what it boils down to," the man said.

His voice seemed to carve out a silence in the room. Liam paused as if waiting for a throng of people to heckle his announcement. Instead, the look on Martin Bloom's face showed at all. His dark face reddened to the point of rage, every muscle in his body clenched and unclenched in response, an impotent gesture for a man that had known only intense frustration for the past 20 years.

Martin had just now finished his master's degree in history, with a focus on medieval England. He had worked for the better part of two decades as a public school teacher, though he looked like a stereotypical professor, tall, wiry, bookish, with a studious sort of seriousness, that matched his soft features. His dark eyebrows furrowed in frustration at simply hearing the name Liam's Cove - that hated haven of the other side of the Bloom family.

His brother and his brother's late wife had allowed all manner of misfits to live with them on their beach property in Japan. It had always been Liam's dream to live there, as he'd been a staunch admirer of all the strange and exotic science fiction to pour out of Japan. Many of his own works had actually had been translated and popularized in the region.

"It's not money. I know you wish I had it." Liam's face seemed to shrug. "But we really built a community out here. I'd like you to see it at some point, and bring the kids. Well once you feel they are old enough. I set up enough money to take care of the place during the foreseeable future. Don't worry, I'll have someone handle all the details."

There was a brief pause as if Liam Bloom was trying to remember everything before completely vanishing out of existence, his last message in a lifetime of words painfully and purposely put to pen and enacted so as to create the world as he had imagined it.

"There's the institute now to run things... but I'm giving you my house out there, a job if you want it and I'd encourage you to visit. Here's where I made a family. I'm only sorry I wasn't able to share it with you. I love you, and I love your family. Okay, I'd really like to leave you on that note, but I don't know how to turn this off."

The video continued for several moments as Liam struggled with the camera, making it clear before the image cut out that he had not been wearing clothes.

"What the hell is Liam's Cove?" Bethany finally asked.

"Language," Martin said. "I don't even know where to begin with my brother and his island paradise."

The last few words were soaked in sarcasm.

"Okay, what the heck is Liam's Cove?"

Martin to brush back the question. His hand worked its way through his thick, brown hair, stopping at the right side of his temple where his fingers squeezing against his head in exasperation as if warding off an inevitable migraine. He seemed to freeze, almost unable to answer the question and utter the words that might make the decades-old hatred understandable.

The lawyer started speaking in a technical, formal voice.

"In his later years, Liam Bloom set aside the entirety of his funds in a trust managed by our legal team to manage the various properties in holdings of Mr. Bloom. His Cove primarily refers to the land he owns on a small private island in the Sea of Japan. On such properties, Mr. Bloom has allowed a number of occupants based on his own personal interviews and interactions. He was determined to continue to provide for them after his passing."

"But, there's a house?" Bethany insisted.

The lawyer sent a look to Martin, silently imploring him to admonish the impertinent youth and allow him to continue with his job.

"There are over 100 houses and residences, with plans to expand. Consider it almost like Mr. Bloom's own personal town, though he never called it that. There's a lot of legal details. However, it's arranged so that you are not be bothered." Lawyer said. "Suffice it to say, you have been awarded Mr. Bloom's personal home, which I assure you is quite luxurious.

"However luxurious it is, I assure you we will not be going." Martin Bloom insisted.

Chapter Two: Something Said

Martin had meant it. His feud with his brother was complicated and not something he spoke about, not even to his gorgeous wife. In their nearly 20 years of marriage, Mary had done more than maintain the essence of her high school beauty, she'd accentuated it by adding the allure of a mother others would love to be fucking. Her dirty blonde hair was usually worn pulled back, the result of too many busy days spent chasing children around a preschool. And yet, though often weary, her face still had the same beam, the same youthful exuberance she so effortlessly showed in high school. Even at forty, her large breasts and hourglass figure drew the attention of every man with a pulse. More often than not, Mary caused their friends and acquaintances to wonder how Martin had done so well for himself.

Mary had only known of Liam by reference, and not very well. He was nearly 20 years older than his younger brother, her husband, and already well-known and well-established in his own literary niche. Their fight had not involved her, though she knew better than to speak of it to Martin. That didn't stop her from nettling Martin about the possibility of taking a vacation to see this island in Japan.

"We wouldn't even have to stay there very long," she said. "We could take the twins into Tokyo or some other place and just enjoy the beach."

"You don't understand, Mary," Martin said through gritted teeth. "Liam built himself a little nudist colony there, if not an island of outright sex criminals."

"Oh come on," Mary said. "It's not like if we took the kids to Europe, they wouldn't see a topless beach or something. They're 18."

"I don't want to think about that."

"We're going to have to think about it eventually. Besides, I don't see why at least the two of us can't go check out our vacation home."

And that had been the argument, over and over and over again in the Bloom household for nearly a month. Mary, insisting that they had a right to see the property that they inherited; Martin, for his own reasons, denying that there was any reason to augment his heavy-handed response with any logical debate over the matter. The two went around and around in a circle for a month, the exchange growing more heated as a result of the repetition.

Then Martin lost it at work.

It'd been a little thing, the kind of comment that he had heard 1,000 times from 1,000 different kids in 1,000 different ways. Each time he had responded correctly and the event soon dissipated into nothing worth considering. Nothing costing a valued public servant so much as another thought, let alone a career.

Oftentimes well-meaning educational endeavors are met with derision, scorn, and derogatory gestures and comments. Heather Rochester proved to be one of those students determined to demean anyone foolish enough to educate her. And for Martin Bloom, Heather's stunning looks, so close to his wife twenty years ago, made remaining professional much harder. Especially given the regular effort she made to violate the school's dress code, wearing skirts that flashed her panties when she bent, blouses that barely covered her breasts, and taking every opportunity to make the most of her 18 year old body.

Perhaps that's why it became so easy for Martin to objectify her. Often, when lecturing or hearing about how, "history was like, totally ruining her life," it became easier for Mr. Bloom to imagine her in obscene positions. He could almost remember doing her, the hallucinations were so vivid. He would see himself grabbing those teased blonde curls into a large knot and forcing the senior onto a desk. His strong hands pulling out those tits, always so desperately trying to throw themselves out of whatever she had them squeezed into that morning. Then he would strip down those thin black panties she wore during the dance, the kind that showed up in a single line accentuating her butt with every motion she made.

He imagined her at every pep rally, every game, every eighth period. It became a fixation, the idea of taking this spoiled brat and spanking her in front of the class until she begged him to stop. Only then would he rip off her clothes and fuck the girl in front of his now-fixated class. Mr. Bloom imagined her swallowing every inch of his cock, sucking down every drop of cum. Sometimes his brutality extended to lurid acts he'd only imagined, like anal sex. He wondered what it would feel like to put his dick inside that tight, barely legal hole. He even thought about sharing her with other teachers, passing the slut around like a used little fuck toy.

He knew it was insane, but such was the depth of his obsession. Maybe it was that she reminded him so much of his wife. Maybe it was her demeanor, her display of raw sexuality that made him want to punish her for using her feminine wiles so wantonly at such a young age. Or maybe it was that the fantasy of such violent and forceful hate-sex shook up something inside of him, especially given the extended length of the dry spell he was suffering through at home. Regardless, Heather was a major pain in his ass. She became the object of his derision and desire. Day by day, the mental boundaries he'd built between himself and his students eroded with every lusty thought.

Martin wasn't a wallflower; he stared down worse misbehavers a dozen times a day. He could coolly freeze out the class clown or motivate the burned out kid barely making a D. But the unique problem that Heather Rochester presented burrowed into his mind until his every thought of her was sexually aggressive, even violent. He imagined himself a principal armed with a paddle, spanking her over his desk until she cried. Fucking her with the door to his classroom locked, the whole time her begging him to stop, pleading that she would be better.

Privately, Martin remarked many times about the peculiar nature between the relationship of Heather Rochester and her boyfriend William, an honor roll student whose grades Mr. Bloom had seen slump as the semester neared its close. Several other teachers also noticed and made comments rebuking Heather's showy acts of disrespect. She behaved just as badly in other classes - too proud and just as dramatic. For all intents and purposes, Martin saw her as a bitchy but beautiful girl who leapt at the opportunity to find faults and flaws with the curriculum. Real or imagined, she used them as an excuse to blame her failures on the teaching staff.

Martin had many times expressed his thoughts, both vulgar and profane, about Heather Rochester with other educators. It was the kind of thing even parents who legitimately love their children sometimes whisper to one another when trying to comprehend how someone they made, who came from them, could seem so unfamiliar. Teachers often remark similarly, only without the filter of having to remember that their DNA was involved. It wasn't uncommon for the teachers at Martin's school to vent and express their own frustration about being cursed out by some 18-year-old senior.