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My Reward
By Azil
Copyright 1998-99


Disclaimers:

This is a work of fiction. No character is meant to resemble any
specific person, living or dead.

Sexual actions of various types will be depicted in this story. This
does not mean that the author approves of these actions, has ever
performed any of them, or would perform them if given the opportunity.
(Nor does it mean that he doesn’t, hasn’t, and/or wouldn’t).

This is inappropriate reading material for minors. In many jurisdictions
it may be illegal for minors to read it, or for adults to make it
available for minors to read. The author urges you not to disobey these
laws. Even if it isn't illegal where you are, keep it away from kids
anyway.


CHAPTER 46: MEMORIES OF SHORT CREEK

Throughout the summer a series of events had taken place that, at the
time, seemed of little significance. Taken together, they were to come
to a head with some interesting consequences in the fall.

Long ago, near the beginning of this story, I mentioned that Sharon had
been raised in a strict Mormon family, but had become estranged from her
family when she married (her first marriage) outside the faith. She
hadn't spoken with some members of her family in years.

After our marriage, as I came to know more about her, I began to see
what a burden this was for her, and how troubled she was that her girls
had little contact with their grandparents. Being the good fellow that I
am, I decided to effect a reconciliation.

Step number one was to become a Mormon. I didn't actually do this, but I
changed the thinking of everybody concerned to think that I was. Step
number two was to have our marriage sealed "for time and eternity" in
the Temple. I considered having a wedding like our first one, complete
with consummation at the altar, but I decided to save everybody a lot of
time, trouble, and expense by just making them think they had witnessed
the ceremony.

Now that Sharon was, in her family's minds, properly married to a good
Mormon guy, her mother called her, suggested she drop by with the kids,
and soon all was peace and love.

I then sat back and congratulated myself on being both so clever, and
such a very kind, caring person. I didn't foresee that Sharon would take
my idea in directions I hadn't anticipated, and that this would present
some interesting opportunities.

I should have. I had had previous experience with Sharon taking
something farther than I intended. You might recall that she went from
being attracted to me and seeing an affair with me as a good career
move, to being in love with me and seeing marriage as an even better
career move.

Now Sharon took her reconciliation with her family and church, and began
to move more deeply into both.

Under most circumstances, I would see no problem with this. I think it's
great when people are close to their families (I know -- I'm leaving
myself wide open, considering my relations with Sarah, so just make your
jokes and I'll keep moving along). And, although I'm not particularly
religious myself, I think religion is generally a good thing for those
who choose to make it a part of their lives.

The only problem in Sharon's case was the nature of her family and their
religion.

Sharon's family, I was to learn, came from the part of the state known
as the "Arizona Strip" -- the narrow strip of land north of the Grand
Canyon and south of the Utah border.

Originally settled by Mormon pioneers migrating southward from the Salt
Lake Valley, and always cut off to some extent from governmental
authority by its isolated location, the Strip had developed a peculiar
nature of its own. Foremost among its peculiarities was polygamy.

When Utah and the Mormon Church outlawed polygamy in the 1890s, the
Strip just ignored them -- they weren't in Utah, and they felt the
Mormon leadership had sold out their beliefs in order to get admitted as
a state (a belief that wasn't without foundation).

For the next fifty-plus years the insular little communities of the
Strip mostly went their own way.  Most Arizonans were totally unaware of
them -- they had little contact and less impact on people down south in
Flagstaff and Phoenix and Tucson.

The Strip had its fifteen minutes of fame in the mid-fifties when
somebody in the state government - in a fit of temporary insanity, I
suppose - sent the state police in to raid the towns and arrest all the
men who had more than one wife.

Naturally, the whole thing got a lot of publicity, becoming known as the
Short Creek Raid, in honor of the largest of the communities in the
Strip, but it ended up being more of an embarrassment for the
politicians than an opportunity to pose as the protectors of decency.
After all, once you've arrested all the men in a town, what are you
going to do with the women and children?  And you don't look like the
protectors of family life when the news reports are full of crying
children asking why the nasty men took Daddy away.

The men were released quickly, the affair was forgotten, and since then
the state has pretty much left the Strip alone.  It became sort of an
early version of "don't ask, don't tell" -- as long as the polygamists
were discreet, the government left them alone.

I hope I haven't bored you with this background.  I pass it on only
because Sharon's parents, I found out soon after I met them, were from
Short Creek.

Although they were not polygamists themselves and had left the Strip
because of its lack of opportunities, they were sympathetic to the
polygamists' beliefs, and had raised Sharon with similar sympathies.
Now that I had helped Sharon return to her roots, these sympathies were
revived.  In fact, with the zeal characteristic of a convert, Sharon now
enthused over the positive aspects of "celestial marriage".

This wasn't much of an issue -- Sharon's interest in the subject was
academic -- until that day in mid-September when she called me at work,
screaming that I had to come home right now, and she meant Right Now.

I wasn't too pleased about the summons, because I was in the middle of
an excellent (aren't they all?) Wendy blowjob. Wendy was also enjoying
it; she always did, but particularly this time because she was having
her pussy eaten by Valley, who had become an important part of the
Business Development team in the couple months since she had
transferred. Val (I had learned she hated being called Valley, and I was
trying to overcome the habit of calling her that) balanced our team out
nicely, since she was primarily lesbian, but also enjoyed (increasingly)
swinging the other way. This complemented Wendy nicely, since Wendy
loved cock, but also enjoyed swinging every other way there was to
swing.

So there I was, in the middle of a quite productive staff meeting, when
Sharon summoned me home. Actually, I'm being light about this, but her
voice indicated that she was very upset, nearly hysterical, and I had
Reward transport me home immediately.

When I got there, it was clear that things were awful. I could see
Cassie disappearing up the stairs and slamming the door to her room,
unusual behavior from this usually mild-mannered child (though hormones
have done stranger things to kids her age). Sharon was in tears at the
kitchen table.

Sharon had kept Cassie out of school that day, I knew, because she
hadn't felt well, but I doubted that illness was the problem - Cassie
had looked healthy enough scampering up the stairs, and Sharon looked
angry, not worried.

"Tom!" she wailed when I came in, and grabbed on to me, holding tight.
"Oh god, Tom!"

This was about all I got out of her for quite a while. Then she finally
managed to blurt it out - "Cassie's pregnant."

Oh, my.

I wanted to ask questions, but the most immediate priority, it seemed,
was providing a shoulder for Sharon to cry on, and that was what I did
for the next several minutes. Meanwhile, I tried to think.

Cassie had been sick for the past several days. Sharon was not one of
those mothers who rush to the doctor at every sniffle or cough, and had
assumed that the problem was something minor, so didn't insist on taking
her in until this morning. It's possible of course that the morning
sickness had been going on longer, but that Cassie hadn't mentioned it -
especially if she knew or suspected what it was.

Morning sickness, I knew, was one of those unpredictable things - it
might set in as little as a couple weeks into the pregnancy, or wait a
couple months. My first unreasoning fear, of course, was that I had made
her pregnant, in my role as Thom McNally - but then I remembered that
that had been far too long before.  Besides, of course, Reward knew that
none of my partners were to get pregnant unless I said so.

When Sharon had calmed down a bit, she told me that Cassie was refusing
to talk, to the doctor or her, about when her last period was or who the
father was or much of anything else.

When I suggested that maybe she'd talk to me, Sharon glumly agreed that
I might as well give it a try - though she was clearly skeptical about
my chances. Meanwhile, she unburdened herself of her secret worry - that
her former husband would use Cassie's pregnancy to pressure her into
giving up the kids. I assured her that that was not going to happen, and
headed up to Cassie's room.

As I went up the stairs, I tried to work out what I was going to do. I
have very mixed feelings about abortion - I'm adamantly opposed to it,
but I don't think it should be illegal. I despise the extremists on both
sides of the issue, and their habits of demonizing everyone who takes an
opposing position. It's too tough an issue to deal with in simplistic
terms.

In any case, I figured that what I was about to do might be the moral
equivalent of abortion, although I assuaged my conscience by
rationalizing that it was more a matter of restoring the status quo
ante.

But first, I needed to get the facts.

The door was locked. I knocked and, when Cassie shouted "Go away!", I
had Reward open it.

I could of course also have had Reward just tell me all the details of
Cassie's pregnancy, but I decided I wanted to hear it directly from her
- even if I had to use Reward to loosen her tongue.

When I entered the room, Cassie was lying on her bed, staring at the
ceiling. She wasn't crying, but her red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked
face indicated that she hadn't stopped long before. She didn't bother to
ask how I'd gotten in; she just looked at me with what tried to be
indifference.

As might be expected in a 13-year-old's room, there was no place to sit.
Clothes littered every surface. Cassie being in transition from
childhood, dolls and stuffed animals were still prominent in the decor,
as were magazines with Ricky Martin and 'N Sync on their covers.

I sat on the bed next to her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Everybody still loves you, Cassie. No matter what's happened, it's
okay."

She turned to look briefly at me. "Mommy hates me. She thinks I'm
awful."

"Your Mom's angry and hurt. But she'll never stop loving you, no matter
what you do."

Then she was crying - bawling might be a better word. As with her mother
a few moments before, I figured I wouldn't get any information until she
had cried herself out, so I just held her until she was ready.

"Tom, it's such a mess," she said finally. "I didn't mean to get
pregnant."

Talk about stating the obvious! In spite of myself, I almost laughed.
"Of course not," was all I could reply.

After a few more meaningless comments passed back and forth, as she
began to see I wasn't going to punish her or condemn her, I could feel
she was becoming more comfortable about talking.

"I know you don't want to talk about it," I said then, "but we really
need to know who the boy is - his parents need to know."

I could feel her stiffen. "I can't."

We went back and forth on this a few times. I was a bit surprised - she
had seemed to be about ready to talk. Finally (I'm not noted for my
patience in such situations), I told Reward to make her as talkative as
a broken-hearted drunk.

She sighed deeply, seeming to come to a conclusion, and said, "You'll be
mad."

"Probably not," I answered.

"You'll hate me."

"No, I won't."

"You'll kill him."

"Probably not."

She paused again, then blurted it out: "It's Thomas."

"Thomas who?" I asked, before I realized whom she meant.

No, it couldn't be. I didn't actually say those words, but they were
clear enough on my face.

She nodded.

"My . . . my Thomas?" I stammered, though I knew.

She nodded again.

Holy shit.

The story poured out. I'll save time and space by deleting the
backtracking, redundancies, pauses, and circular conversations, and
summarizing the meat of it.

The occasion was the Fourth of July picnic. I allowed myself a smile at
the irony - the year before, at the same picnic, I had fucked Sharon.
This year, my son fucks Sharon's daughter - full circle.

What happened, it seems, was that while hanging out in the group of "big
kids" at the pool, Cassie began to flirt with Thomas. He, being
considerably slower, didn't pick up on it. Finally, frustrated, Cassie
just said "Come with me," and led Thomas to a spot amongst the rocks
that one of the older girls had pointed out to her. There she had
completed her seduction, and there my son had impregnated my
stepdaughter.

Although some reading between the lines was required, it gradually
became clear to me that Cassie, from the first moments of the picnic,
had deliberately targeted Thomas.

"Why Thomas?" I asked. "You barely knew him."

My shocks weren't done for the day. Cassie spent a while looking down at
her hands, then took another deep breath, looked me straight in the eye
and said, "Because I love you, but you don't want me." She paused and
then went on, "And he's your son, so I thought it would be like having
you, but it really wasn't."

And then there was another rush of words, and I understood that the
sexual tension I had so casually created between Cassie and I - letting
her watch Sharon and me, letting her know that I had seen her watch,
watching her masturbate on the plane, our experience together in Mexico
- the tension that I had created partially just for amusement and
partially because I thought I might someday seduce her - this same
tension had found its outlet in her seduction of my son.

"You told that girl down in Mexico that you wouldn't have sex with me
because I wasn't old enough," she said, with a touch of defiance in her
voice.

"I guess you showed me, huh?"

I had always been strongly attracted to Cassie, from that day so long
ago (was it less than a year and a half?) when I had first seen her with
her mother and sister in the Toys R Us parking lot. I had fucked her
clone that night, I had fucked her as Thom McNally. Some day, I knew, I
would have her again.

But never in my wildest dreams had I imagined she'd have sex with
Thomas. And yet, I reminded myself, and yet . . . I had put it all in
motion. I had teased her and honed her sexual instincts to such an edge
that it was hardly surprising that somebody had gotten hurt.

And yet, and yet . . . .

I was so totally confused at this point that I called for a time out.
Literally. I told Reward to stop all time, or at least slow it to a
crawl, while I thought things through and figured out what I should do
next.

I wanted Cassie. That was a given - it was a fact that had never
changed. No matter the amount of guilt I had felt over my first
encounter with her and her sister's clones. No matter the bad taste of
the Thom McNally experience. I had always wanted her and had known that
sooner or later . . . but I had planned on later.

But now she was pregnant, and I realized that that excited me further.
I'd never had sex with a pregnant 13-year-old. To the best of my
knowledge, numerous articles about how common such things are
notwithstanding, I'd never seen one. Until now. I imagined her belly and
her breasts growing in the coming months, and imagined myself stroking
into her swelling body.

And yet . . . Sharon was downstairs in hysterics over her daughter's
pregnancy. Once again, as so often in my experiences with Reward, I was
in a quandary over how to have the most possible fun while doing the
least possible harm.

At which point, I had an inspiration - I'd marry Cassie.

I can hear you expressing doubts over the wisdom of this solution.
Cassie, you might point out, was only thirteen; I was already married,
you might add - twice in fact; you've probably also noted that one of
the women to whom I was married was Cassie's mother.

All of these are very good points. But her age meant little as far as
her attractiveness for me was concerned. And, once one is married twice,
can once more matter?

Normally, the third point might be a stopper, but I saw a way around it.

In one of our conversations on polygamy, Sharon, while extolling the
virtues of the practice, had commented on the bonds of sisterhood that
grow up among the wives in a plural union. They generally refer to each
other as sisters, she noted, and added that it is not uncommon for them
to actually be sisters - often a man marries two or more girls from the
same family.

Sharon's defense of polygamy was, of course, only theoretical. I
remembered being amused at the time by the thought of how quickly she'd
change her tune if she were to suddenly realize that she was actually
married to a bigamist. But Reward could, with relatively few changes to
her personality - something that was important to me - build on
theoretical acceptance of the idea and change it to real and
enthusiastic acceptance. It was a slightly bigger step, I knew, to move
from the idea of marrying sisters to mothers and daughters, but I'd let
Reward handle it - perhaps something along the lines of "You've always
wanted to be Cassie's best friend - here's something even better."

So that was that. I unfroze everybody, told Cassie that I'd fix
everything, and had her follow me downstairs. When we arrived in the
kitchen, where Sharon was sitting, red-eyed and tense, I told her
everything would be okay. They both looked at me expectantly.

"I know you don't approve of abortion," I began, "and of course you
don't want Cassie to be an unwed mother." They both nodded. "So I've
decided that I'll marry her."

I suddenly realized that I'd forgotten to tell Reward to set Cassie up
for this, but he had apparently gone ahead and done so on his own.
Cassie gasped in pleasure, and squeaked out her joy, grabbing me around
the neck and pulling my face down for a big kiss.

Sharon took a second to take the idea in, then, as programmed, smiled
and said, "That's a great idea, Tom." She took Cassie by the hand and
pulled her close for a kiss. "Now you'll be my sister as well as my
daughter," she said, stroking the girl's hair tenderly.

Then she spoke to me again. "Why don't you take her upstairs and
consummate the union?" she suggested, no doubt parroting Reward's
instructions.

Whether it was truly Sharon's idea or Reward's, Cassie and I both
thought it was a good one. I took Cassie's hand, and led her up to the
master bedroom. There, now slightly nervous, she stood looking at the
bed where she had so often seen me enjoying her mother's body. Then she
turned to me, smiling a bit crookedly, and said, "I'll try to be a good
wife."

"Of course you will," I replied, stepping near her and taking her in my
arms. "I think we'll make each other very happy."

She turned her face up to me, and parted her lips as I kissed her
deeply. A few moments later, as we continued to embrace and kiss, I
lowered her slowly to the big bed.

Cassie was wearing only a t-shirt and shorts. In a moment, that was
amended to bra and shorts, and a moment later to shorts only. The
beautiful little teenager looked up at me, expectantly and nervously,
hoping for approval. "Am I pretty, Tom?" she asked.

"You're beautiful," I replied, with feeling. Her breasts were larger
than they had been several months earlier, when last I had seen them,
not a surprise at her age. They were still perfectly shaped little
hills. Still just a handful - but slightly fuller hands.

I filled my hand with one, massaging it lightly and tweaking the tiny
nipple, as I licked at the other. Cassie drew in her breath as her
sensitive little breasts sent pleasure messages through her body. She
arched her back, pushing her breast into my mouth, then put her hand on
the back of my head, pulling me down to crush the breast into my face.

She grunted as her body tensed, then she relaxed slightly. My free hand
slid down her still-flat belly, sliding down past her navel and slipping
under the waist of her shorts. I massaged the soft flesh of her lower
belly, then heard her intake of breath as my hand reached her pubic
mound.

Again her body moved of its own accord, making itself more available to
me, her hips now rising to place her pussy in my hand. Constricted by
the tightness of her shorts and panties, I could at first only play with
the outer lips. Frustrated, Cassie suddenly sat up, tossing me aside in
the process, and pulled off her last garments. Then she lay back again,
spread her legs, smiled lewdly at me, and said, "I'm yours."

If you've never had the experience of having a 13-year-old girl with a
freckled nose say "I'm yours", I recommend it without reservation. I
immediately dove between her open legs, gently but hurriedly separated
her lips with my thumbs, and drank in the aroma of her lust.

The next moments were silent, except for Cassie's little squeaks of
pleasure as my tongue explored her secrets. I licked first the outer
edges of her pussy, slowly circling inward, gradually working toward the
inner lips, then down to her vagina. The tiny hole was warm and wet when
at last I reached it, and Cassie squeaked again as my tongue touched
lightly at the opening, then she sighed gently as I curled it into a
spear and pushed it slowly inside her.

Inexperienced as the girl was, nature told her what to do. Her hips rose
up to meet the invasion, then her hands descended on my head to hold me
prisoner and to guide me in bringing her pleasure. When her breathing
became more ragged, I knew she was approaching her peak, so I moved my
tongue up to her clitoris, where I licked around the base for a moment,
replaced the tongue in her fuckhole with a finger, gave her a couple
strokes with the finger, then licked the full length of my tongue across
her clit.

A tremor went through her that probably set off the seismographs over in
LA. She took in two short breaths, then squealed loudly. Her legs closed
on my ears and her hips rose off the bed, remaining poised in midair for
long seconds, before her whole body collapsed.

She lay sprawled, her legs splayed out, her little cunt gaping open and
dripping her juices.

When her breathing had returned to approximately normal, I kissed her
lightly on her lips and asked, "So how does it feel to be Mrs. Mallory?"

She smiled and kissed me back. "This is just what I hoped it would be
like - even better. It's why I wanted you to make love to me." She
frowned. "I'm just sorry I got pregnant, because I'd like you to do it
instead."

"Let's pretend," I said, moving over her. Her legs were already open for
me, and her cunt was so wet that my cock was inside her almost as soon
as I spoke. Small as she was, I sank into her without difficulty.

There I paused, with my cock deep inside my stepdaughter/wife. We
embraced and kissed, as her legs locked around my waist to hold me in
place. "This is what I've dreamed of," she said, punctuating the words
with little kisses. "I watched you and Mommy making love, and then I'd
go back to my room and I'd play with myself and dream that it was you
and me."

"It is," I answered, with a kiss.

She relaxed her legs slightly and said, "Do me real hard like you do
Mommy."

I disobeyed that command, at least at first. I pulled out slowly and
reentered the tight little cunt the same way. This was partially out of
concern for her, and partially because I was savoring the exquisite
feeling of her velvet cuntwalls releasing my cock, then pulling it back
in. I repeated the motion a couple more times before Cassie whined in
displeasure and used her heels on my ass, as though spurring a horse.
"Please, Tom, more," she said.

I was ready for more, too, so I stepped up the pace, pushing harder into
her, then pulling out the full length of my cock and driving down still
harder. "Yes," said the girl, then "Yes!" again as I came down into her
again.

Then it was a constant stream of "Yes!", each one coming louder and
faster as I drove into her faster. Then her hands were on my ass,
pulling me into her deeper as her hips drove up at me, and she was
screaming just one long, loud "Yes!" as the second orgasm of her wedding
day washed over her, and a moment later my sperm spilled uselessly into
the belly already occupied by my grandchild.


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