“This’ll be your last day at school for a while,” a voice startled me, causing me to look up from the thick, hard-cover Berserk graphic novel I cradled in my hands.

“Are you punishing me?” I spat back with attitude, glaring in the direction of where the voice came from.

“No,” replied the voice calmly, yet with a hint of sternness. “We are going into a lockdown.”

“Oh.” My shoulders shrank, and my face welled up with embarrassment. “Is this sickness really that bad?”

“’Fraid so, kiddo,” came his reply.

“What the fuck are we going to do if we can’t leave the house?” I scoffed, slamming my book shut.

My father and I shared a modest two-bedroom apartment, adorned with vinyl flooring that mimicked grey wood and walls as white as snow, with scattered decorations. Some of the pictures along the way were of me and my late mother, Teresa. One photo was a favorite of his – I had to be about seven years old. Mother stood behind me, hands firmly on my shoulders, with the biggest grin you’d ever seen. Both of us – dressed in our summer dresses – were slathered with mud from head to toe. The picture had been taken moments after I threw a mudball at her. Instead of getting angry, she picked up some mud and flung it back at me. Dad stayed back and filmed the exchange. The neighbors peeked out into our backyard, wondering what all the commotion was about. The one to our left came out and scolded my mother for poor parenting, but all she did was smile and explain that we had all had fun, so the mess was worth it. Our blonde hair, so pale that it almost resembled silver, though caked with mud, still shone in the early evening. That day was one of the most perfect days anyone could experience. I smiled to myself.

I’d heard time and again that no couple is ever going to be perfect; though mother and father were probably as close to being perfect as it came. When I was born, my mother was 22 years old, and my father was 42 years old. Despite the looks they would receive or the questions they would have to answer regarding him being their daughter's or wife's partner, they maintained a healthy relationship that I’d only read about in fairy tales. It’s hard to find a man like Dad, I thought to myself as I stood.

“We have the internet?” my father laughed.

“Right, because I’m totally into social media.” I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms under my breasts, intentionally giving them some lift with my arms.

“I know, I know. Your nose is always in a book. In fact, why don’t you order the rest of that series you’re reading, hmm? It should be here in the next couple of days. That should give you something to do for a few days, at least.” He suggested, shrugging.

He knew my weak spot. Books.

I pinched my lips to one side of my face, chewing on my cheek as I contemplated.

“That’s like five HUNDRED dollars!” I exclaimed, knowing he would do anything to keep me happy and fulfilled.

“It’s not like we can’t afford it, my darling,” he soothed.

I scrunched my lips to the tip of my nose, peering at him over my dark-rimmed glasses. He knew I couldn’t say no to books, despite the price. Per usual, he was right; we could afford it, and he knew I could never say no to books. In fact, he was the reason my manga collection was so extensive in the first place. As the only child growing up, I was very spoiled and loved by both my parents more than most people know in a lifetime.

Two years ago, my mother, a soldier in the armed forces, was deployed to an active combat zone. As a Major General, she was in high demand and would often be away for long periods of time. Her last assignment was, of course, classified, so I wasn’t privy to much of the information at the age of 16, but what the military personnel did tell me is that she died a hero and in the service of her country. What my father told me was that she died protecting a little girl from an explosive device during an evacuation of a hospital. That little girl? She shared my name: Clare. Father, holding a doctorate in the profession of psychology, knew that the girl reminded mother of me, and that’s why she saved her, despite not making it out herself. Since then, he has been somewhat hollow, despite the mask of a strong man that he puts on, I sighed. There was no one to blame for her death.

“Okay.” I smiled, my demeanor shifting from annoyed to relaxed.

“That’s it?” he chuckled. “No fighting? Just acceptance?”

I shrugged; book tucked under my chin.

“You’ve exploited my weakness. What else could I do but give in to your charm?” I flirted.

He stood from the sofa, walking down the length of the sectional. The L-shaped sofa was a splurge purchase after mother died, but it was something he needed at the time. I stood at the other end of the L, caught off guard by the sudden embrace. He held me tight, my crossed arms digging into his massive chest.

Standing at only five feet tall, I was a mere ant compared to my father, who stood over six feet tall. I barely came to his chest. I looked up at his speckled hair and face, gaunt and slightly droopy from rapid weight loss. He had weighed over three hundred pounds before Mom’s death, but he rapidly dropped a hundred pounds in the year following her death. It showed on his face, yet I could still see the handsome man in the photos that mom fell in love with.

“Anything to keep you happy, my love,” he squeezed.

“Thank you, daddy,” I said, uncrossing my arms.

I set the book on the sofa and wrapped my arms around him, squeezing him back. Both of us knew that Mother would have done the same thing and bought me the rest of the series, as well. It was moments like these that we both missed her dearly and were both reminded of her. There were moments I knew that Father looked at me and saw her, despite not being biologically related. I’d always suspected that Mother’s personality rubbed off on me, and that’s why I was a constant reminder of his late wife. In truth, Mother and I were quite different. Her courage and determination were what carried her through the ranks of the military. I had no such interest in the armed forces. Not once did she push me to follow in her footsteps – in fact, both she and Father let me explore my own path and make my own decisions in life, despite not all of them being particularly responsible decisions. In light of keeping me accountable, Mother bought me a vibrator so I could learn to pleasure myself in my own way without getting pregnant. Mother was unorthodox.

Releasing the sturdy man who held me, I fell back on the heels of my feet and looked up at him. Without another word, I quickly grabbed my novel and disappeared into my room to purchase the rest of the series. I tucked myself into bed and curled up with the book and read for some time, falling asleep mid-page. When I awoke in the middle of the night, the light was off, and the book was on the nightstand under my glasses. Father was always looking out for me.

Morning came early. I smelled the coffee my father was making the second I awoke and rose as if I’d inhaled smelling salts. Still in my clothes from the previous day, I yawned and pulled my N7 comforter off my person, standing and stretching as I acclimated to the morning light peeking through the one window in my room. Across the room was my closet, with a tiered dresser inside, along with several articles of clothing hanging from the bar. Shuffling through them, I found a comfortable pink night shirt with a nebula-like pattern and grabbed it. On the front, the word “STARDUST” was printed in a contrasting yellow. My mother had this saying – “Our bodies are the stars made flesh; we are stardust.” – so when I found this last year on the anniversary of her passing, buying it was the only thing I could do. It has always been worn with pride by her.

I slipped out of my jeans and anime t-shirt. “Power” was written across the top, representing a female devil in the anime or manga known as “Chainsaw Man”. Dropping them in the basket, I slipped out of my bra and panties, sighing with relief as my breasts wiggled freely. The shirt was the next thing to go on as I tossed my remaining clothes into the bin inside my closet. With my “Triforce” socks on, I closed my closet and crossed to my door, pulling it open, the aroma of coffee melting my nostrils. Breathing deeply, I stepped outside my room, leaving the door cracked behind me.

“Good morning, sunshine!” called my father from the kitchen.

“Morning,” I creakily replied.

“Sounds like you could use some of this,” he suggested, pouring me a cup of delicious Colombian blend coffee.

“God, that smells incredible,” I groaned.

“Fresh and black, just how you like it.” My father handed me a mug.

My favorite mug was that of a character named “Iroh”. On it were some of his most memorable quotes and sayings, mostly of wisdom and advice. He was a character I’d admired since before I knew what admiration was. This was a gift from Mother from our last Christmas together and was one of my most cherished items.

“I don’t know what I would do without coffee,” I joked, taking a sip of the bitter liquid.

“Careful, it’s hot,” he warned.

“Almost as hot as you!” I retorted with a devilish, yet innocent grin on my face.

“You’re one to talk – miss I-don’t-wear-a-bra-at-home,” he smiled, turning his back to head into the living room where we usually enjoyed our morning coffee.

I followed, sipping my coffee again as I settled onto my end of the sofa. On the far side of the living room was our TV. I grabbed the remote and flipped through the options of something to watch or play. When I found nothing that held my interest, I returned to my room to grab my book and settled back into the couch to read.

Whether it was the lockdown or the lack of ability to leave the apartment, the day passed at a turtle’s pace. The highlight of my day was receiving the order of the last several books I needed to complete my series. Most of the day was spent reading through the story, which Father didn’t seem to mind. He was preoccupied with his work, talking to clients in his room while working on his computer. Though it wasn’t the most excellent solution, he said, it was still better than his patients having no one to reach out to during this time of worldwide uncertainty.

When dinner time came, I suggested pizza, and Father didn’t object. We ate in the living room, discussing the book series and the story found within the pages and illustrations. Before long, it was time to turn in for bed. I wasn’t looking forward to another boring as shit day.

“I know I love to read, but being cooped up all day blows donkey dick,” I complained to Father, closing the leather-bound cover of my book, ending yet another chapter in the series.

“Let’s hope this isn’t for long,” was father’s reply as he handed me a hot mug of tea.

“Better not be. I’ll go insane! I can’t even get a dick appointment!” I continued.

“Oh,” laughed father, amused. “I’m sure you can.”

“Not with these social distancing rules and curfew!” came my annoyed retort.

I cupped my hands around my favorite mug and brought it to my nose, inhaling the sweet peppermint and honey tea that Father knew was my favorite before bed. The disappointment of not being able to be intimate with someone and the sexual frustration left my mood feeling more than a little sour. Though it wasn’t difficult for me to find someone to fuck, my standards were so high that no one, thus far, had risen to meet them. So far, it had been impossible to find someone who matched my father's traits. Any attempt to find an older man like him resulted in fruitless labor. And a couple gross cocks, I shook my head to myself.

“Go to bed,” was his gentle suggestion.

Pouting, I looked up at him over my glasses and raised my mug to my nose to inhale the sweet scent once again.

“Fiiiiine.” I sipped my tea and then left the living area, heading for my room.

For the next hour or so, I read my manga. By the last sip of my beverage, I was so exhausted that I could barely read the pages. I managed to get my glasses off and latest volume onto my nightstand before drifting off into a hazy sleep.

“Hmm?” I awoke, my head fuzzy, vision blurred in the pale moonlight.

“Ssshhh…” hushed a familiar voice.

Not much time passed before I realized that my arms were stretched towards my bedposts. My wrists were tied, leaving little room for me to move my torso around. Not that I could move. On top of me was a large man, one I couldn’t quite make out at first until I recognized the smell of the aftershave my father wore. His warm body straddled my hips just below my pelvis. I saw him pull something from behind him and lean in towards me.

“Hey!” I tried to get his attention, though, through the wooziness and confusion I felt; I wasn’t even sure if the word came out.

I felt his strong hands groping around my body, under my t-shirt, feeling around my hips, up my chubby stomach, and to my sizable breasts. A whimper escaped me just as he pulled his hand away. With his other hand, the item he pulled from behind him came into view. It seemed to be some cloth, which was later affirmed as he forced it through my lips and teeth, binding my head to tie the fabric securely, its purpose now known as a gag. Through muffled words and a scrunched nose, I pleaded with him to tell me what was going on.

Silence.

Again, his hands wandered up my hips, this time pulling my shirt along with it. Though he was unable to remove the shirt entirely, he was able to lift it far enough that my whole body was exposed, my peach skin gleaming in the pale light of the moon through the crack in my blinds.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he finally said.

I bit into the fabric hard, flaring my nostrils as his bare body pressed against mine. I could feel the heat of his sex, growing against my thigh. His rough hands, still exploring my supple body, caressed each inch gingerly. Through the delirium, I sensed how much he was enjoying himself. In turn, I couldn’t help the natural reaction of my own body, shuddering at his light touch – one I’d been craving for as long as I could remember.

My nerves calmed a bit, and I relaxed into his touch, closing my eyes as his warm hands explored me. His knee slid up my legs, parting them, granting him access to my own sex. He repositioned himself as I spread myself wider. I felt his cock brush up against my mound, my nose twitching as a response. His fingers slid down to my slit, opening it. I bit my lower lip as he positioned himself on top of me, the tip of his cock gently poking the entrance to my soaked hole. I gasped as he entered me, closing my eyes. Though I was no stranger to taking cock, the feeling of Father’s sizable shaft sliding inside me felt more pleasing than any other dick before.

Through the gag, I moaned, flaring my nostrils again as I felt him press his tip in as far as it would go, my pussy squeezing him as he began to thrust in and out of me. His eyes locked onto mine, his body moving with mine. His hips moved slowly at first but quickly gained pace when I started moaning louder and louder. I felt drool well up on either side of my mouth corners, leaking out onto my cheeks as I took every inch of Daddy’s long cock.

Several minutes passed as he fucked me; my tits bouncing with each thrust, my curvaceous body rippling and jiggling as we moved. His moans sang with my own muffled sounds, echoing in the evening air around us. Between thrusts, I felt his large hands grab my breasts, gently cupping them. Now and again, he would lean down to suck on my small nipples that were surrounded by large areolas. His thumb would brush over them, causing my body to tingle and my cunt to grip his cock even harder.

“Good girl,” he finally broke the silence.

I felt him push all the way inside me, his member pressing against my walls so hard I thought they’d break. His cock, hot inside me, burst, throbbing and twitching. I felt his steamy cum leak inside me, filling my tight canal with his delicious seed. My eyes closed again, and my head rested back against my pillow. His huffing and my panting filled the room as we lay entwined.

“Ass up,” he commanded, procuring an empty pillow from the head of my bed.

Slowly, he slid his cock out of me. I tightened my walls, trying not to spill any of the precious seed Daddy had left inside me. He slipped the pillow under my hips. I lifted them as...