Wicked's Metamorphosis

"See any raccoons, WicKed?" I couldn't help but ask as I began setting food onto the table. Then, shaking my hand back and forth over my hair, while pointing to her head, I let her know about the chaff clinging to her.

Kitten gave me a smug smile, responding, "Just two wicked ones. One held me down while the other took off my cloths. I had to fight like hell for an hour to get them back. Must be related to those ones that took the cloths off the wash line, Saturday, and dragged them up into the barn loft. Yes?" She asked perfectly mimicking the twins' Spanish intonation and language patterns that she had heard earlier in the day.

"Had to be those twin raccoons that hang around the barn. Be careful out there. I hear they bite." I came back at her response.

"Yeah. They bite, good, So ... WicKedly good!" Katrina smirked with a hint of exhaustion in her voice. We ate. The air in the kitchen was thick with silence. Not the kind that floated above a vile pool of anger, so it was not bad for a first day of intervention, I thought.

Finishing up dinner, I told Katrina that I'd handle the dishes and she could go bathe and clean out the chaff from her hair. "You can use the guest room, the one your Daddy used to stay in. It's at the top of the stairs, opposite my room," I said.

Looking coolly at me, she stared for a few moments longer than necessary. Then she asked, "So ... should I stay there ... in the guest room, tonight?"

The doctor part of me wanted to answer matter-of-factly, "Yes." And stop without added conversation.

But I struggled to formulate an answer for her. Katrina's parents had been an integral part of my maturation through college and beyond for a number of years. My love for Katelyn and my grandmother's care had kept me alive when I wanted to die so many years ago. Even now, on occasion, Bobby's attempt to rape Katelyn and me at the lake brings out screams in the night. So, the answer couldn't be just a simple, yes. Only a coldhearted bitch would throw away those lifesaving experiences as though they didn't matter in this situation.

I really didn't want to totally isolate her as an intervention would normally call for but this wasn't a normal situation. Finally, I pulled back somewhat from my original program notes and said, "Katrina, as much as I would like to be with you in my bed tonight, I think it might be best if we give ourselves a couple of days of separation and some time for thought. Don't you? Kat, if it gets too quiet for you, please, know that you are always welcome to come and slip into bed with me and cuddle anytime -- just cuddle -- no fucking, understand?"

We stood locked together in time watching each other, each waiting for a sign from the other. The words to "Bridge Over Troubled Water" played through my mind as I watched her standing motionless, just staring at me. Whatever was playing behind those eyes wasn't letting it show up front where I could get a sense of how to bridge those feelings. I had just sent an eighteen-year-old to bed after supper -- and in timeout to boot. What was I expecting, a good night hug?

Bridge Over Troubled Water

Simon & Garfunkel

When you're weary, feeling small

When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all, all

I'm on your side, oh, when times get rough

And friends just can't be found

Like a bridge over troubled water

I will lay me down ...

Then, just like a draw bridge being lowered over troubled waters, she glided across the kitchen floor and we melted into each other's arms.

Leaning her head on my shoulder, Kitten whispered, "I'm sorry about being such a bitch, today, Marie. It's just that I thought ...."

"Thought you were losing your Daddy, baby? That you might not be able to keep your promise to your mom?" I asked seeking to confirm the cornerstone premise of my grandmother's thesis entitled "Inceptual Relations between Fathers and Daughters."

"Yes. How am I going to make sure Daddy is always happy, if I'm not there?"

She voiced one of the most perplexing questions a child, caught up in incest, could ever posit on the road to adulthood. It came amidst her soft sobs. I feel the wetness of her tears as they stream down onto my neck. Pulling her tightly into my arms seeking to quell the tremor rolling through her core, I find myself rocking her like the child I never had.

"Kitten, your mommy would never have made you promise to do something that was impossible for you. You can still make sure your daddy is happy in life even without satisfying his cock yourself. Make him happy by being you, being yourself. He wants you to spread your wings and become an independent woman as life is meant to be. Achieve your own goals, not just the one you promised to keep for your mother."

"Kitten, twenty-four years ago I gave Ray to your mother as my gift of love into her life. Now, she has given him back to me as her gift in death. You brought him to me, that's the gift of satisfaction and happiness your mother wanted you to keep as your promise to her." I whispered from the depth of my heart as I pressed Katrina closer to my breasts.

"You have kept your promise, Kitten. Now take wing and fly out to explore the world. And I'll keep your Daddy's cock happy for you. I give you my solemn promise!" I smiled as I kissed her lush lips before sending her off to wash the chaff out of her hair. I watched her sore, cute butt amble up the stairs before I picked up my note pad for today's entries.

My thoughts turned to Ray, again. I had left a second message on his recorder before starting dinner. Strangely, he had not returned my call. I half expected that he would be checking in after getting my messages, but perhaps he didn't want to risk Katrina answering the telephone and setting off another cascading tirade such as the one that took place on the front porch this morning. Tomorrow brings another day, one that seems to be brighter and with fewer dark clouds on the horizon for Katrina. I really wanted to inform Ray of that tonight. I know that he would sleep better hearing some good news. I believe Kitten may be turning the corner. I recorded that entry into my patient's notes file for Katrina Schumacher as well as a similar entry into Raymond Schumacher's file notes before locking away my journals for the evening.

Right now, from personal past experiences, I surmised that Ray would be jacking off at least twice before falling into a restless sleep tonight since he wouldn't be getting his customary sex services. I expected that to be the case tonight as he arrived home to an empty house. The rest of his week would be just as dire as he would be spending it flagellating his own cock. Poor man. 'Too bad you can't have long distance sex,' I thought to myself as that old familiar heat began to blossom between my thighs.

I peeked in on Katrina on my way to bed. She was asleep already. Uncovered, with the warm night breeze blowing across her cunty, her fingers slowly swirled around her vagina. Freud would have loved to be sitting by her bedside taking notes right about now.

I made a mental note to place an early morning call to Ray and give him an update. I crawled into my empty bed with wicked thoughts of having spent Friday and Saturday nights there with Kitten and Ray in a mangle of arms, legs, pussies and a dick. Then, I let my own fingers slip into that blossoming heat radiating from my groin as I rocked myself into a slowly building climax - then into a welcome deep sleep.

The Morning After the Storm of Storms

Dawn was trying to creep through Kitten's bedroom window, fighting its way through the gray overcast skies. Last night's storm had rolled into the distance, along with the gale force winds, sometime during early morning hours. Without the electricity on, I'm guessing it was about 6:00 a.m. The actual time now -- I've no idea. But, it's light enough to see the small bloodstains left on the sheets as evidence of my piercing Jackie's virgin cunt last night at the height of the storm. Light enough to also see the coiled fetal resting position of shy Jackie Wilson's pussy quietly, seemingly, whispering for more attention.

My one-eyed snake, Richard, as Marie had named him twenty-four years ago, lifted his head and slithered forward intending to commune with Jackie Wilson's pussy, again. But he was forced to retreat in alarm. Somewhere, in the distance, the harsh sounds of chainsaws starting up startled him into disgorging, breaking his concentration. County road crews were starting to clear debris from the downed power lines, presumably. I'd guess or it was neighbors out doing the same thing.

Jackie moaned and rolled over awaking at the buzzing sounds of the saws. Grabbing at the bed sheet, she pulled it up and clutched it over her naked body as she looked into my eyes. Her lips pursed as if formulating her thoughts.

"Mr. Schumacher, were you looking at my butt while I was sleeping?" Her sleepy, dry morning voice croaked out.

"No, ... Jackie ... a little further around," grinning, I answered her question.

"My mother told me men are not supposed to see women like that in the daytime," she softly lectured me as she avoided eye contact.

"And if it's nighttime?" I replied.

"Nighttime is the time for pillowing ... Daddy." My Asian American bedmate answered, remembering that she'd agreed to no longer call me Mr. Schumacher after I'd shared 'Clouds and Rain' with her last night. I was sorely tempted to show her that her Asian mother was wrong about seeing women naked during the daytime. But I thought better of it knowing that she had asked to have the next four days to explore her body together with me before Kitten returned home.

As much as I wanted to stay in bed with her, I said to Jackie, "The power has been out for quite a while and there is no telling how long it will be down. I'm going out to start the backup generator and get some power to the well pump and kitchen circuits. That should keep the food from spoiling. Everything else will be off."

"Jackie, there may be enough warm water for a bath. I'll run water in the tub for you before I go outside. Otherwise, it will be a cold shower, later," I added thinking about the dried stains left trailing down her slender leg. A soak in a tub would be far better for easing any soreness after a first-time marathon fuck session than a cold shower.

"I'm sore ... down here," she pointed, "and a soak in the tub would feel nice. Thank you, Daddy." Having said that, she wrapped the sheet around herself and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting while I filled the tub. The water temperature wasn't normal, but it was at least lukewarm, warm enough to soak in for a few minutes. She didn't move to stand until I left the room, then I could hear the rustle of the sheet dragging across the floor toward the bathroom.

I got the power circuitry switched from the grid over to the backup circuits and fired up the generator. There would be no problem with fuel as the propane tank for the house also was connected to the generator fuel supply. I'm glad that the electrician who wired the home also thought to provide power to the automatic garage door opener as well. I drove out and down the driveway to check out the damages down the street. A ten-minute drive was all I needed to see large trees downed in nearly every yard toppled over on the power lines. There was only one-line crew working our roadway. The extensive damage would take days to repair. I turned around and headed home.

Heading inside, I examined the freezer and refrigerator. Both are running. Next the kitchen circuits check out, as the toaster and radio were good to go. Opening the kitchen cold-water faucet, I was relieved to find a steady flow of water; that meant the well pump was also functioning and the hot water heater would also be powered on as soon as I re-ignite the pilot light. Too bad the generator wasn't provisioned with power to the electric stove. Electric skillet meals would have to do -- or barbeque.

Turning toward the living room is when I spotted the telephone recorder light blinking. I hadn't checked for messages when I arrived last night. My attention had been diverted - getting into Jackie had caused that failure. I'd told Marie that I would call her later, when I arrived home and check in on progress between Kitten and her. I failed. Snatching up the receiver, I listened, but there was dial tone. Hitting the recorder's play button, I listened for messages.

Sunday, 2 pm -- Message

"Ray, I'm alive," Marie's wry voice cracked jokingly as the recorder started to play, "and so is Katrina. It started off rocky just after you left, but after an hour-long tirade, she calmed down a bit. She's out riding the fence lines with the twins, now. She seemed in better spirits, at least she was smiling as the girls gave her a few riding tips before they headed out. Call you later, after she gets back. ... Love you."

Sunday, 7 pm -- Message

"Ray, ... I wanted to give you an update. I believe Kitten may be turning the corner. She broke down in tears tonight ... actually apologized for her tirade. This is usually way too early during the recovery process for such a response to be sincerely meaningful. Often it is a classic ploy during a psychiatric patient's initial trust establishments to try and win me over to her side. But, based upon your input about her concepts of honor and promise keeping, it may be genuine. Call me, tonight. ... Ray, she had wheat chaff in her hair, again. She got to those twins! So ... she isn't totally heartbroken. Call me any hour tonight. I'll be up."

After the last message played, I knew I had no way of calling Marie right away. Clearly, she was really going to be concerned at my lack of communication. I would have to drive into the city and find a functioning telephone connection as soon as possible. Intending to check on Jackie and explain the power outage damage, I turned toward the stairs.

Barefooted, Jackie was standing on the last step, dressed in faded jeans with a knotted red silk scarf for a belt. She wore a short sleeve crewneck tee shirt -- no nipple sightseeing for me this morning. They fit her well and must have been from Kitten's earlier wardrobe days when she was about four years younger. Jackie's face was expressionless. She had no good morning Daddy or bright smile upon seeing me, now. From her expression, I'd gathered that she must have heard some part of - or all of the messages.

"You said that Kat is staying at your cousin's farm. But that lady on the recorder sounded like a doctor talking about Kat as a patient. Were you lying or is something wrong with her that I'm not supposed to know, Mr. Schumacher?"

"It's complicated." I replied.

With a sigh, I sat down on the couch thinking about what to tell Jackie. If I couldn't have this conversation with my daughter about my feelings concerning our relationship, how could I explain it to an eighteen-year-old that I'd just slept with for the first time? Did she really deserve an answer? ... Of course, she did, some kind of answer at least. Once the skeleton is out of Pandora's box, you cannot very well stuff it back inside and pretend it never got out into the open. This felt like a flash back to Marie's recounting of her attempted rape by Katrina's brother, Bobby. It had tormented Marie for more than thirty years and still had not been put to rest. It certainly shocked the hell out of me when she revealed her attempted suicide this past Friday as a result of her remorse for beating Bobby to death.

'Fuck! What the hell should I tell Jackie?' I thought as she sat down on the chair opposite me, waiting for an answer.

"Jackie," I began recalling Kitten's words about how dissatisfied Jack Fletcher left her when he lost his virginity, "not all fucks should push you over the top." My jumbled thoughts were trying to get at the idea that perhaps fucking Kitten shouldn't feel as good as it always does, but ...

"What are you talking about, Mr. Schumacher?" She asked, perplexed at my answer.

"I'm trying to answer your question about Kitten, but I can see I'm not doing a very good job at it. So, let me try, again."

I started over. "When you saw Kitten and me on the lawn, it wasn't the first time. But maybe it shouldn't happen again. I have mixed feelings about Kitten and me." So far, Jackie hadn't expressed any revilement at our incest act, perhaps it never came across to her that this is a taboo area in many cultures -- especially in the mid-west Bible belt. I had no idea how this situation would be discussed, or even if it would be in her family.

"Katrina is staying with my cousin, Marie. It's Marie's voice you heard on the recorder. Marie also happens to be a psychiatrist and I asked her for help. Not because there is something wrong with Katrina, but something I feel is wrong with me wanting to continue doing what she and I have been doing, together."

Jackie sat with her hands folded in her lap for a few moments before responding. "So, Katrina wants you ... you think you don't want her, ... but you did it anyway?" She asked.

I sat down on the couch and just looked into her eyes. How had she been able to so succinctly summarize what I had been trying to say, so readily and so quickly?

"Kitten made a promise to her mother to take care of my ... my needs, Jackie." I replied. "And you know that she would move mountains to keep a promise if she had to. Hasn't she done that for you also?"

Jackie nodded in agreement, "Yes. I always know I can count on Kat to keep a promise. Then, how do you feel about last night with me? Did I make you do something you didn't want to do?"

"No! No, sex with you last night was wonderful and I hope you don't feel that I took advantage of you. I felt it was what you wanted, but just couldn't tell me."

"You're right about that. I really wanted it and it seemed the ideal time. I was home alone, without interference from my parents. And to be honest, I was glad when you told me Kat was away. It just seemed so timely and I might never get another chance like that again. After watching the two of you fucking outside, well, I thought it was about time I had some cock too! I really wanted that experience before I go away to college this fall." Kitten's smile seemed to creep across Jackie's face as she let me know that I had interpreted her needs correctly last night.

"Are we good?" I asked, at a loss as to how much more I should tell her about Kitten's new sexual predilections; she had taken John Deere' virginity and took on Marie as well as the twin girls within three days of arriving at the farmstead. I decided that I would let WicKed fill her in when she came home Saturday, if Kitten wanted to do so.

"Fuck, yeah!" She giggled, having found a new voice. "So, you're still okay with teaching me about sex stuff, until Kat comes home? And how about what you said last night about including her -- a threesome you said?"

"Jackie, I'm not sure about doing Kitten, again -- as a threesome with you. That's why I asked Marie to help. Maybe, Kitten made her promise due to a misinterpretation of what my wife was asking of Kitten. We'll have to wait and see what happens when I drive out to pick her up Saturday. But, as for still spending the next four days with you, fucking yeah! I'll be glad to provide demonstrate the lessons that your PE teacher didn't include in the sex-ed lesson plan!" I grinned at the thoughts of upending Jackie until my cock fails to rise, then we'll find other things to do!

"But first, we have to get to a working telephone and return the calls to my cousin, Marie."

Contact After the Storm of Storms

"Hello, Ray. I thought you got lost going home. Going to put you on speaker with Katrina," Marie teased as she answered my call.

"No, smarty pants," I joked using an old term Grandma Johnson often used with Marie, "I got caught in a major storm that blew through here. When I got in last night the winds were blowing so hard that the rain sounded like ten-foot waves crashing against the windows. It took almost two extra hours to get home and out of the storm. I didn't see your messages."