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Not Living With Fran Anymore
by Mad Bohemian (address withheld)

***

A parody of the television show Living With Fran in 
which Josh finally snaps and wreaks havoc upon his 
family. (MFff, ped, nc, rp, bi, inc, 1st, oral, bd, 
humor, v, sn, parody)

***

I finally couldn't take it anymore and I snapped. 
That's the only way to explain it. I went crazy. You 
would too if you had to live with the fucked up 
people I had to live with.

My bratty sister Allison, my disapproving father with 
that stupid English accent, who never missed an 
opportunity to make me feel like a failure, my mom's 
lunkhead boyfriend who was only a few years older 
than me, and of course, worst of all, my mom.

Oh God, my mom.

Out of all the people in the world who drove me out 
of my mind, she was the absolute worst. That 
incredibly annoying voice of hers alone made me want 
to set fire to a school bus full of children. The way 
she acted, like she was the queen of the world, and 
smooching it up with a guy half her freaking age, 
made me want to stomp kittens. And the way she 
dressed, Jesus Christ on a crutch, with her tight 
pants and her low necklines and the Victoria's Secret 
underwear in the dryer, made me want to grab a gun 
and cap myself.

Fran. What the fuck kind of name is Fran, for crying 
out loud?

It's no wonder I cracked. I'm surprised I didn't 
explode like a bomb, sending my bones and blood and 
visceral matter spraying everywhere. Or run through 
the city streets with a machete, hacking every living 
being I saw into pieces. Drink rat poison with a 
battery acid chaser.

I did do some damage, though. I set things right. I 
let everyone know just how upset I was. And how 
insane.

And I'd do it again.

***

Like most deadly rampages, mine had a catalyst, an 
event that set everything else into unstoppable 
motion. My precipitating stressor was a common one: I 
lost my job.

I probably deserved to, since I'd been screwing up 
all evening. Losing credit card receipts, giving 
customers too much change (or not enough), putting 
the videos in the wrong sections. My biggest fuckup 
was putting an X-rated video in the discount bin for 
a ten year old girl to find. Her mom was outraged 
when she discovered her little girl and the little 
girl's friend giggling at the naked people doing 
naughty icky stuff. My boss had looked at me like I 
was Chester the Molester.

I usually worked until midnight, but because of my 
abrupt (and rude, I thought) dismissal I went home 
two hours early. And, as you probably know, stressors 
tend to beget stressors. My sister Allison had been 
spending the night at her friend Becca's house, so it 
was just Mom and Riley at home, and since they 
weren't expecting me for another two hours, they 
thought they had plenty of time to do their own 
naughty icky stuff. Which is what I walked in on at a 
quarter after ten.

You can imagine the horror, but I'm going to describe 
it for you anyway (you might as well be as 
traumatized as me): they didn't even have the decency 
to commit their hideous acts in the bedroom, but were 
right there on the living room floor, between the TV 
and the coffee table.

Riley was completely naked and standing there with 
his hands on his hips, looking down at Mom, who was 
on her knees in front of him. She wasn't naked; she 
was worse than naked. She was wearing a leather 
thong, for the love of God, had a spiked dog collar 
around her neck, and her hands were bound behind her 
with fur-lined handcuffs. She was sliding her mouth 
forward and back on Riley's (I have to admit it) 
impressively-sized cock, and as my rotten luck would 
have it I came in right at that magic moment.

"Yeah, baby," Riley said, "take all of my meat. Suck 
on it, you dirty slut."

And Mom, the dirty slut, gobbled that thing up like 
it was chocolate covered alimony. Quite possibly the 
most horrific thing I'd ever seen. Up to that point, 
anyway. In the next few moments, however, Mom managed 
to top it with something even more revolting.

"Oh fuck, here it comes, baby," Riley nearly shouted, 
and suddenly he shot his load. It spurted out of his 
cock and all over my Mom's face and tits. Mom moaned 
in pleasure like the nasty tramp she was, and bobbed 
and weaved, trying to get some of the slop into her 
mouth. I would have screamed myself to death if I 
hadn't been in complete shock.

Riley grabbed Mom by the hair and shoved his tool 
back into her mouth and I just couldn't stand to 
subject myself to any more of this shit. It had to be 
stopped. No, they had to stopped. They had to be 
eradicated from the face of the earth.

I walked like an automaton to the stairs, then up the 
stairs to my room. I went straight to my dresser, 
opened the bottom drawer, moved a few sweaters that I 
never wore, some old porn magazines I didn't look at 
anymore since I got a computer and an internet 
connection, and took out the .38 caliber pistol I had 
hidden there.

Convenient, I know, but that was what happened.

I checked the gun to make sure it was loaded, then 
walked automatonly (note to self: check to see if 
automatonly is a word) back down the stairs to the 
living room. I found Mom still on her knees, but now 
she was bent over the arm of the sofa, and Riley was 
beating her savagely with a belt. I might have let 
him continue with what he was doing if I didn't feel 
the overwhelming need to punish the shitty skank 
myself.

I aimed carelessly and fired, and by chance the round 
expended from my gun hit Riley right in the temple. 
He made no sound as he suddenly fell to the floor, as 
lifeless as the Fox network's new Fall schedule.

"What?" Mom said. "What happened? Riley?"

Her voice was like the screech of a cat getting its 
guts clawed out by a pit bull. I turned a little and 
aimed the gun right at her head. She turned too, saw 
me, and her mouth fell open in surprise. Then she 
lost her balance and fell onto the floor, her legs 
flying open and revealing to me the ghastly place I'd 
come from. I fired another round, not at her but at 
the fact that I'd been born. Then another round. And 
another. And another. I emptied the gun, in fact, 
putting five bigass holes in the wall above the TV 
set.

Of course, by this time Mom was screaming her head 
off (which didn't sound too much different from her 
normal conversation) and trying to get up from the 
floor. She was almost hopelessly hindered by the fur-
lined handcuffs, and kept falling back down. She even 
hit her head on the coffee table, although it wasn't 
a hard enough impact to even knock her out, let alone 
kill her.

That job was still left up to me.

Since I was out of bullets I had to find another 
weapon. Not too difficult, since we kept a baseball 
bat near the front door in case of home invasions. 
Not just convenient but ironic as well.

I went over and picked it up, swung it a few times 
for practice. Mom was still shrieking like a banshee 
and flopping around on the floor. I very calmly went 
over to her, brought the bat back over my shoulder 
like Hank Aaron, then, just as she'd managed to get 
up on her knees, I swung for the fences.

The sound the bat made wasn't the same kind of crack 
that you hear when you hit a baseball, but there was 
still a definite cracking sound as I struck the back 
of my mom's head. She went straight down onto the 
floor, face first. Tits first too, since her hands 
were still cuffed behind her back.

The blow I struck was probably enough to kill her, at 
least from a medical standpoint. From my own, though, 
it was just barely a beginning. I hit her again, 
quite obviously cracking her skull open this time, 
then continued hitting her with the bat, over and 
over again, up and down her entire nauseating body. I 
didn't think about it, I just kept hitting her and 
hitting her, raising the bat above my head and 
bringing it down again like a woodchopper chopping an 
unbelievably disgusting log. I didn't break every 
bone in her body, but the damage I did was pretty 
close to ninety percent complete destruction.

It was unbelievable that none of the neighbors heard 
all that noise.

When I was done (actually, when I got tired), I 
dropped the bat and stood there for a long moment, 
just staring at all the carnage. Riley lay on his 
back, a big fat hole in his head and his brains all 
over the wall; Mom lay near him, on her stomach, her 
blood and fragments of her bones littering the floor 
in a gruesome and yet profoundly pleasing way.

I'd gotten some of her blood on my clothes (mostly my 
shoes and pants legs), but I remedied that by going 
upstairs and changing. I came back down and dragged 
the bodies of my former mom and her former boyfriend 
down to the basement, placing them at opposite 
corners, then returned to the living room to clean up 
the mess. That took about three hours. Blood is hard 
to get out of the carpet. When I was done, I went up 
to my room, taking the baseball bat with me, lay down 
on my bed, and waited.

***

Okay, I fell asleep. It was late, I'd had a long 
rough day, and I was exhausted from beating my mother 
to death. You'd be sleepy too.

I woke up the next morning around eight, just in time 
to hear two chattering girls downstairs. Allison and 
Becca. I sprang from the bed (or, possibly, dragged 
myself out of it), grabbed the baseball bat, and went 
to my bedroom door. I peeked out and, eventually, the 
girls went past, still chattering, and giggling as 
well. They stopped in front of Allison's door and 
Allison said, "I gotta go pee. I'll be back in a 
minute."

"Okay," Becca said, then, to my astonished eyes, they 
put their arms around each other and Allison gave 
Becca an unmistakably romantic kiss. The two girls 
smiled at each other, then Allison went into the 
bathroom and shut the door.

I told myself I should have known. As much as my 
sister talked about her fascination with boys, she 
hardly ever went out with a guy, and when she did she 
spent the next day doing nothing but bitching about 
him. And when she wasn't on the rare date with a guy, 
she spent all of her time with her girlfriends 
bitching about guys in general. The dumb cunt was a 
dyke. And now, apparently, she had turned Becca into 
one as well.

I figured I could fix that, though. Becca had had a 
crush on me for some time now, and had even tried to 
get me interested in her, but I'd shrugged her off. 
After all, she'd been jailbait. She still was 
jailbait, since she was only sixteen, but with my mom 
and her cementbrained boyfriend rotting in the 
basement, getting slapped with a statutory rape 
charge was the least of my worries at this point.

I opened my door further and was just about to call 
out her name when Becca disappeared into Allison's 
bedroom.

'Crap,' I thought, but then I thought, 'No, wait, 
this is actually better. Leave her in there and 
eliminate the threat first.' Which meant I had to 
wait until Allison came out of the bathroom, and who 
knew how long that would take? I stayed in my doorway 
and prepared to grow old.

About five minutes later, which can be a long time 
when you're waiting to victimize someone, the toilet 
flushed and I could hear the water running in the 
sink as Allison apparently washed her hands. I went 
out into the hallway and stood by the bathroom door. 
It finally opened and Allison came out and I swung 
the bat, connecting perfectly with the back of her 
head. She fell right down to the floor, face first. I 
set the bat down, grabbed my sister by her hair, and 
dragged her into my bedroom. I checked for vital 
signs; she was still breathing, still had a pulse, 
which was exactly what I'd intended. I was pretty 
good at this shit.

I left my sister's inert body on the floor and went 
back out into the hallway. I knocked gently on her 
bedroom door and a moment later Becca answered. She 
had a somewhat mystified expression on her face that 
first instant, no doubt because she couldn't figure 
out why the hell Allison would be knocking on her own 
bedroom door, but that look was immediately replaced 
by one of shock and horror (almost as if she'd just 
discovered the bodies in the basement), not so much 
because I was standing there instead of Allison but 
because she was stark naked.

She had a kickass body, too; all smooth and pink and 
finely shaped, round firm little titties, small patch 
of blonde pubic hair over her pussy.

My eyes quite naturally went wide and my jaw dropped 
as I took in the sight of Becca's amazing nudeness. 
At the same moment Becca screamed, her hands going to 
her mouth, then covering her tits, then covering her 
pussy, then going back up to cover her tits. It was 
funny, actually.

"Josh!" she cried. "What are you doing?!?"

I could have asked her the same thing, answering the 
door in her birthday suit when the only person she 
was expecting was my sister. But I didn't have time, 
or the inclination, for a conversation, and I figured 
the current situation, what with all the mayhem, 
didn't warrant one anyway. To hell with that whole 
seduction scheme.

I barged into the room and pushed Becca toward my 
sister's bed. She screamed again and lost her 
footing, stumbling and nearly falling. She managed to 
catch herself, but in that micromoment when she was 
regaining her balance I struck again, shoving her 
down onto the bed. Predictably, she screamed again, 
and it was really starting to irritate me, so I 
slapped her hard across the face a few times. That 
pretty much stifled the screaming, but now she 
started to weep and whimper, which, in a way, was 
even more irritating than the screaming. I don't know 
why.

I felt a really powerful urge to just keep hitting 
her, to bash her face in, break her bones, brutally 
mistreat her tits. Yeah. But I kept myself in check. 
I had something much more satisfying to do, and if 
you haven't guessed what it is then you're dumber 
than my mom is. Was.

Once I had Becca reasonably subdued, I fell on top of 
her, forced her slender sexy legs apart, and reached 
for the fly on my pants. I got my cock out, got it in 
the right position, and shoved it right up Becca's 
pussy. She was tight as hell, and it took me 
something like four or five jabs to get it all the 
way in. I felt her cherry break, which by itself 
would have been enough of a victory to make the last 
twelve hours or so worth it; there's no better 
experience in the world than taking a young girl's 
virginity. Especially, I discovered, by force. Rape 
is definitely the shit. They should make it legal. 
Call me a revolutionary.

Becca, naturally, was wailing and gnashing her teeth 
even more now. I had to hit her again, twice, then 
hit her a third time just for fun. Then I grabbed 
onto her tits and squeezed them as hard as I could. 
That made her cry out, "Owww!" and, "Josh, please 
stop!" Music to my ears. I was having the time of my 
life and I hadn't even started fucking her yet.

Speaking of which: I held onto Becca's tits, 
continuing to squeeze and pull on them, causing her a 
great deal of pain, as I began fucking her. Hard. I 
shoved my cock up into her pussy again and again, 
really jamming it in there, slapping my balls against 
her small tight ass. Becca, aside from her weeping 
and a few pathetic attempts to ward me off, just laid 
there and took it like a good little victim. Within 
just a few minutes I got off, shooting what felt to 
me like about a gallon of come up into her pussy.

When I was done I slapped her one more time, just to 
add insult to injury, then got up. Becca immediately 
turned over onto her side, still crying her eyes out, 
and rolled up into a ball. There was blood and come 
on my cock and I looked around for something to wipe 
it off with. I saw a clump of clothes on the floor, 
no doubt hers, and I grabbed the panties and cleaned 
myself up with them. Then I grabbed Becca by the hair 
and shoved them into her mouth. She spit them out, so 
I slugged her really hard, actually knocking her out, 
then put the panties back in her mouth.

I left her there and went back to my room, where my 
sister still lay unconscious on the floor. I stood 
over her body for a few minutes, seriously 
considering the idea of beating her to death the same 
way I'd beaten mom to death. I didn't know if I 
really wanted to do that, though. Then I got another 
brilliant idea. Pure genius.

Unfortunately, it meant I would have to do some more 
waiting.

***

In the proverbial meantime I decided to consolidate 
my position. I went through my room, Allison's room, 
and my mom's room and collected all the cloth belts 
from everybody's robes. I used two of them to tie 
Becca's hands and feet together, then put some duct 
tape over her mouth (with her nasty underwear still 
in her mouth). I put her in the closet, which I 
thought was an appropriate location for her, and 
blocked the door with a chair so she couldn't get 
out. Then I returned to my bedroom with the duct tape 
and the rest of the cloth belts. I tossed them onto 
my bed, then proceeded to take all of Allison's 
clothes off.

I hate to give anything away, but I have to take a 
moment here to say that I've never been sexually 
attracted to Allison. At those rare times when I 
looked at her dispassionately, I could admit that she 
was a cute girl, and she had a truly fine body, but 
even then I never felt attracted to her. I never once 
considered the idea of having sex with her. After 
all, that would be incest, and while I might be one 
hell of a nutcase, I wasn't a pervert. Not that kind 
of pervert, anyway. And this time wasn't any 
different. 

Sure, I got a hardon while I was taking her clothes 
off, and I had to fight the urge to just go ahead and 
rape her before she woke up, but still I maintain 
that what I did to my sister wasn't about sex. It was 
about power, and getting revenge, and making her feel 
worse than I felt. My dick was a weapon and I was 
going to knock the shit out of her with it.

Once she was naked I tied Allison's hands behind her 
back with one of the cloth belts and, as if on cue, 
she began to wake up, fluttering her eyes and 
moaning, hopefully in pain. I kicked her in the ribs 
just to be sure, and she let out a yelp that 
satisfied me to no end.

"Josh," Allison said, "what happened? What's going 
on?" She wriggled around on the floor like an eel, 
trying to get her hands free.

"What's going on," I said, "is that a maniac came 
into the house and murdered Mom and Riley, raped 
Becca, and now I'm going to rape you too."

She looked at me like she'd just gotten a mouthful of 
shit.

"What?"

Maybe this is where I should have put that paragraph 
about not being sexually attracted to my sister. Go 
back up and read it again.

"You heard me, you stupid dyke," I said.

Another misplaced paragraph: I really don't have 
anything against lesbians. In fact, I think they're 
totally hot, even the ugly ones. I just didn't think 
it was right for my own baby sister to be one. Call 
me traditional.

"You're gonna pay," I went on, "for all the crap 
you've given me over the years."

"Josh!" Allison cried, still doing her hyperactive 
eel act.

"You should have been a cool baby sister who adored 
her older brother and looked up to him and had a 
secret crush on him and all that shit. Instead, you 
had to be a fucking cunt, so now you're gonna find 
out what happens to fucking cunts."

Not my most eloquent speech, I know, but I was pretty 
crazy at that moment.

I kicked her again.

"Oh my God!" Allison cried. "Oh my God! Help me! Help 
me, please!"

The neighbors were still as deaf as statues. Either 
that or they were ignoring us. Assholes.

I grabbed two handfuls of Allison's hair and pulled. 
She screamed, but at the same time she struggled to 
her knees. As she did so I noticed her tits jiggling, 
then noticed that my sister actually had some pretty 
fine looking tits. Kind of small, yeah, but firm and 
round, like little milk-white apples with brown 
nipples.

I decided she'd have to pay for having such nice 
tits.

"Oh God, Josh," Allison cried, "please don't hurt me, 
please stop!"

I slapped her face, then pushed her so that she was 
leaning back against my bed. Since her hands were 
still tied behind her, she had to arch her back, 
making her tits stick out like sweet little 
headlights. I slapped them, hard, several times, and 
Allison let out a combined yelp and howl. Nice.

I grabbed her by the hair again, forced her up to her 
feet, then turned around and shoved her face first 
down onto the bed. Allison continued to scream and 
whine and cry and otherwise prove that she was being 
nothing but a big baby, but the sounds were muted now 
that her face was pushed down into the mattress.

I lay down on top of her, reached under and grabbed 
one of her tits. I squeezed it really hard, making 
her scream some more, then with my other hand I took 
out my cock and, pushing her legs apart with my 
knees, guided it up to her pussy. I had a bit of a 
hard time (no pun intended) getting it lined up 
right, but eventually I got it in the correct 
position and shoved it home. My cock slid right into 
her, easy as pie, which meant that she wasn't a 
virgin. Hell, she wasn't even tight. What was that 
shit all about? The straight chick is tighter than a 
gnat's ass, but my lesbian sister's as loose as a 
fifty year old porn star. Go figure.

I suppose I could have asked Allison about it, but 
neither one of us was really in the mood for 
interviews. Instead I just started fucking her as 
hard as I'd fucked Becca. I did a little extra too, 
holding her head down on the mattress so it would be 
hard for her to breathe while she was getting 
violated. Anything I could do to make sure she got 
the full rape victim experience.

While I was fucking my sister I thought about how 
cool it was to be brutalizing the little shitass, but 
that wasn't what finally got me off; what got me off 
was thinking about how, after I was through with her, 
Allison was going to have to live with the trauma of 
being raped by her own brother for the rest of her 
miserable life. The sheer magnitude of her pain and 
grief, stretched out over the next sixty or seventy 
years, filled me with such erotic pleasure that I 
couldn't hold it in anymore, and I came with a force 
that I'd never experienced before. I shot my come 
deep into her pussy, the most exquisite orgasm I'd 
ever had in my life.

I'm telling you, if you want to have the absolute 
best sex you'll ever have, beat up and rape your 
sister. If you don't have a sister, then I don't know 
what to tell you.

Allison was still crying when I was done with her, 
and she continued to cry long after I pulled out, 
despite the several times I hit her and told her to 
shut her shitty mouth.

I tied her feet together, did the thing with the duct 
tape and the soggy panties, then lifted her up and 
carried her in a fireman's carry back to her room. I 
moved the chair in front of the closet, opened the 
door and tossed her in. She landed with a heavy-
sounding thud on top of Becca, who was still out like 
a light.

"Hope you two twats are happy together," I said, then 
shut the door and replaced the chair.

I realized then that I was starving and went back 
downstairs to the kitchen and made lunch. Just some 
sandwiches and coffee, nothing really involved. 
Around the time I finished eating I heard some 
banging coming from upstairs. Allison, more than 
likely. I thought about going up and telling her to 
keep quiet or I'd cut her tits off and shove them 
down her throat, but decided against it; at the most 
it would be an empty threat, and besides, at this 
point I didn't really care what she did. My 
destructive spree was just about over. I only had one 
thing left to do.

I went down to the basement and stood over my mom's 
body, and for about ten minutes I told her every 
single complaint I had against her. I spoke in a 
calm, even voice, and for once she didn't open up 
that sewer she called a mouth and attack my ears with 
her insufferable voice. She didn't interrupt me, 
contradict me, argue with me, remind me of what a 
loser I was. She just laid there like... well, like a 
corpse.

After my speech I pissed on her.

When I was done I felt a lot better. Hell, I felt 
like a new man. Which, when you think about it, I 
was. Only a day before I'd been your typical twenty-
five year old underachiever with severe emotional 
problems, but now I was a rapist and murderer. My 
life was going to be looking very different from now 
on.

***

Naturally, I got the hell out of there. Not that I 
expected to get away with what I did, or even get 
very far; I just knew that it was the normal thing to 
do. Freedom, however unlikely, is an instinctive 
imperative.

That's right, I'm educated.

I got as far as a motel about a hundred miles away 
before the cops caught up with me. I didn't resist 
arrest. I went calmly, let them book me and question 
me, and although I pretty much spilled my guts to the 
investigators, I insisted on a trial, not so much for 
myself but for my sister and her cuntlicking friend. 

I made them get up in front of the whole world and 
tell the entire story, detail after detail, of what I 
did to them. That was rich, let me tell you. That and 
the fact that, near the end of the trial, I found out 
that I'd gotten both of them pregnant. They had 
abortions, but still, just knowing that Becca and 
(especially) Allison were, for a short while, 
carrying my children in their wombs, seemed like just 
another reward.

I was sentenced to sixty years in prison, which is 
essentially the rest of my life, but that's okay with 
me. I was smart enough to kill the first big 
motherfucker I ran into as soon as I got behind bars, 
and I nearly killed the second one, so now I'm in my 
own cell and there's no chance of getting assraped 
any time soon. But even if I was getting my colon 
ripped up every day, I'd still be a happy man. 
Because at least I'm not living with Fran anymore.

Life, finally, is good.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
anyway shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of
the scenarios in this story; should seriously consider
seeking professional help.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
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