The Family Trees

Heads up, there are erotic horror elements in here. It is Halloween season after all.

All characters are of legal age.

*****

I got the news that my brother Jack had been missing for long enough that someone had to deal with his estate. It looks like I have another 6 1/2 months left before that dead category becomes applicable but in the meantime someone had to clear up his estate and as his only living relative, I had to be that someone.

One of the nearby neighbors had taken pity on us by doing upkeep on Jack's cabin. However such a kind soul wanted to see his kids for a few weeks. Thankfully that could actually be a blessing in disguise. The trip to the cabin for upkeep could be pitched as a family vacation. My family and I all had fond memories of visiting Jack at his cabin.

I suppose it would be in poor taste to be grateful that he had no immediate family of his own besides me that would register this loss. And if we're coming up with silver linings the way things are going ecologically a few fewer people couldn't hurt.

Still to just disappear like that, it makes a guy wish there was a remnant of him or what have you. Something to carry on his effect on this world now that he's almost certainly gone. My brother Jack had almost never done anyone intentional harm. Unfortunately that does not appear to be enough to leave a concrete legacy behind.

I have seen some absolutely abhorrent people manage to plant their genes deeper into this world. It's a hard pill to swallow knowing morality can have fuck all to do with procreation. That some wretchedness will leave behind seeds to further pollute this already befouled world.

Looks like his lack of commitment did him no favors. He was nice and charming and during his time had more than a few women. I can only assume the coldness our parents treated us with had dissuaded him from settling down. I had known the pain of our parents' aloofness, though not to the degree of avoiding having a family of my own, even if I did make an effort to not repeat the mistakes of my parents.

I suppose the term patriarchy is gauche now; I for one can't say my mother was blameless. The effect of that power structure... Well, it was a power structure without a lot of room for new things in the arguable patriarchy I was raised in. God I feel like a parody of an SJW for even saying that word, but certain parts of that word fit like a glove. There was only an unquestioned power held up by my mother, who, it could be argued was a victim of it. It wasn't an unbearable experience; it was just oh so boring, so mind-numbingly boring. Even today I wonder if my imagination is lacking because of how I was raised.

I don't know how to tie this all together besides stating my brother Jack had some spark, and yet, given how we grew up together, it appears that spark of zest had kept him from leaving behind any quantifiable legacy. Like he had possessed some open mind that was anathema to the familial structure we are all fated to be born into.

As far as legacy goes, I had certainly been impacted by him, and so had my family, but even that seems so... inadequate. I know of people who have sunk far more hooks into this world for the worse. I can't help but bitch about it for longer than is perhaps necessary. Grieving is not known for efficiency.

So to try to leave this train of thought in as good a place as any: my brother had been more fun than our circumstances of birth should have decreed. He had gone far beyond being better than his birth circumstances and his reward was... I don't know if there's an afterlife but if there is I hope he's gone somewhere good. Someplace that makes up for the good he should have left behind now that he's gone.

So with all that thought through, I decide that I might as well leave things at that for now. Time to make plans for a hopefully fun family trip built on one hell of a sad story. I figure that I'll tell my son first. He's in an exploratory phase anyway; by all accounts he could do with a change of scenery. Plus I have a letter to deliver to him.

My son was on the verge of dropping out of engineering in college. Bye-bye to all that engineering money I figure, but god what a sick society one must live in to value money over happiness. I know he was breaking away from that thought with all of those religious texts he had recently bought. Unfortunately his foray into a religious studies class at college had left him fairly wanting. He had called it a paradoxical mix of too progressive and too conservative. However he had found some books he had liked, or at least liked enough to entertain the idea of taking a gap year to explore where they led.

While I walked to his room to deliver the letter I couldn't help but be taken a bit aback by the handwriting. The lack of a return address was not even close to being the most striking thing. It was not normal calligraphy, though the lettering did look dazzling. If I had to come up with an explanation, it was as if it had been written by someone who drew some... is mystical the right word? That lettering really did look like it had come from someone who had spent a lot of time drawing things that pointed to a different world than this suburban existence my family and I were leading.

That appeared to be as far into this mystery as I was going to get. So I finally finished making my way up the stairs and to my son's room. I did the polite thing and knocked on his door. I was told that I could come in.

I see my son reading a book by Guénon. From my own minimal research it looks like the writer has gained a newfound appreciation in some alt-right circles, though that political view is not an absolute condition for one to read him as far as I can tell. Anyways, my son also kept a book that offered a queer reading of Guénon on his shelf, which would probably cause the actual Guénon to roll in his grave as far as I know. I don't even think my son is queer, at least he's never had us meet any boyfriends and he's had us meet multiple girlfriends. Hopefully that book keeps him from going full fascist.

So I gave my son the letter and told him of my plan to make the upkeep on his uncle's cabin into a family vacation. He sounded agreeable; he told me that some of his most recent reading had instilled a desire to experience the woods given the new perspectives that he had read about.

I suppose that more mental bandwidth would have to be spent on figuring out how to broach the subject with my daughter, and for good reason.

She had been dressing more modestly than usual and I think I know why. I know it's in vogue not to tie outfits to expression, but she had previously appeared to enjoy playing with how much skin she showed. I didn't mind; allowing my daughter to have fun with showing skin felt like a small rebellion against how I was raised. From what I could tell even men were doing such things with bro tanks and what have you, though that seemed like a thing for men generations after me. I can't say I particularly understood given that I had little inclination to care about the visual presentation of men.

Anyways, regarding my daughter's recent change in dress. I've heard treating correlation as causation is the path to conspiracism but it was almost hard not to draw a conclusion here.

My thinking came from experiencing my daughter cry against my shoulder as she told me about the lies the boy who had taken her virginity had used to trick her. She had thought that the first person she had let inside her was making love to her. However, after he apparently had his fill, he proudly told her during a discussion about their relationship's future, that there wasn't one. He had only done what he claimed was par for the course for guys and lied to get what he wanted. That whatever love they had was just a trick to let him feel her so intimately, solely for his own pleasure. Said it was all the game. Unfortunately, all those countless attempts at instilling feminist thought hadn't vanquished the specter of Mystery and his Pick-Up Artist tactics. To make matters worse I've read there was in fact something akin to a moral code in those perversely halcyon groups to leave their women better than they found them. That was probably a load of bullshit but given that things appeared to have gotten even worse what with Andrew Tate's popularity even that previous school of thought seemed nostalgia-inducing in the bleakest of ways.

My daughter confessed to me that he had told her so proudly, that he had essentially managed to fool her into letting him inside of her. Wonder what type of conscience a man could have if he found self-value in his ability to deceive. And she was the one who had to bear his predilection for amorality.

I felt her cry into my shoulder. Usually a man is not supposed to think about his daughter's sexuality, but I couldn't help but wish that her first time had been more genuine, more real.

I couldn't help but remember the woman who I lost my virginity with. Even if she didn't end up becoming the woman I married, it had been an honest act. We were both concerned with how the other felt, even if that concern had limited the sexual highs that we might have potentially experienced the first time around. More practice would help us figure out how to reach said further highs while still caring for one another. Nothing experience can't help with.

However, the point of that initial encounter was the care. We both brought care to such a milestone, such a vulnerable moment. We were able to support one another through an act that polite society demands be hidden. And my daughter had been robbed of such a first time by a man proud of his own callousness... what a fucking world to have my daughter live in. I wish I could have changed that.

I suppose a father of the year in the past would have gone all primal father on such a boy, shown him daddy's wrath. But this current era doesn't seem to be the time of daddy. Don't know who it's the time of, perhaps grifters and frauds. I can only hope that there's some kind of reckoning for the men who would betray my daughter's desire for intimacy in that way. I just don't know how that would work however.

I know this wades into vulgarian territory, but god what an awful thing to do with a cock. I had known what it was to bring women pleasure with it (though with a few unavoidable failures as well). It was such a beautiful thing when someone else's sexual desires truly met yours that to fake it in such a way... I could only conceive of it as a desecration of all that is beautiful.

While my daughter cried on my shoulder, she called me daddy all the way through her confession. She never did outgrow the term. I never had the heart to tell her to use a more adult word. Even if technically she was an adult, there was about her an... I don't want to say innocence, because being lied to about sex is about as great a fall from innocence as possible. I wouldn't call it childishness either, as it felt like there was no feeling of immaturity in the way she used it. I didn't think that she was using it in a manner to keep from growing up. It was more like she used it as a means of preservation, as if she was using it to keep that idealism of what a person could mean to someone. And hell if I was going to challenge that.

And so it was time to broach the subject of a family trip with my daughter. I knocked on her door and she told me to come in. So I opened the door and tried to gauge the temperature of her emotional state.

There remained an air of sadness, but there was also oddly a look of gratitude in her eyes. She looked thankful for me. Maybe I'm not so far away from father of the year after all.

"How are you feeling?" I asked my daughter.

"It still hurts, but thanks for comforting me earlier, daddy," she told me. "It really helped."

"No problem, honey," I replied. "I just wish I could have done more."

"Do you really mean that daddy?" She asked.

"I sure do," I replied. But then a notion in me wanted to change the subject quickly; I don't know why. "Anyways, your Uncle Jack's cabin needs some upkeep, and I was thinking we could make a family vacation around it. I hope that would be nice for you."

"That would, it really would be," she replied and gave me a hug. I tried hugging her back but I didn't think I could reach the purity of that hug. I loved my daughter more than anything but the affection she showed me... I don't know how to even approach that.

Once the hug ended, I made my way to ask my wife.

There had been a certain malaise between us recently. Neither of us was to blame for that; it was just hard to figure out how to work together to dig our way out of it. Things between us didn't feel doomed, just kind of lost is all.

My wife especially seemed to be carrying a kind of sadness recently, though it didn't appear that either of us harbored any ill feelings. With both of the kids going to college, it felt more as though a sense of 'is this all there is?' had crept over us. Nothing to resent besides the limitations of reality I suppose.

I guess some meagerness could be laid at my feet; I hadn't thought of another way to fill the hole. That's certainly not the sign of a good husband, or at least it's a place I can improve. The trouble was I could not think how. Beyond paying for the rest of college and giving whatever life advice the kids asked of me, I had pretty much exhausted my familial duties, which I had been performing for so long that they might have deepened my lack of imagination I mentioned before.

Anyways, when I broached the possibility with my wife what one would expect happened. My wife agreed to the trip, but a lingering emptiness cast a shadow over our conversation. I didn't know what more to add to make it go away; I'm feeling pretty empty myself too. I wonder if that's anything I can think my way out of, or perhaps if I'm lucky something will happen that will shake me out of this hollowness.

*****

It was nighttime and I was lying in bed with my wife. The possibility of what happens when a man and a woman are in bed together was in the cards for us, though, as I've already explained it was not the path of least resistance. Uncertainty is far from an aphrodisiac.

I had enough to work with, as she was beautiful even if she was wearing nightwear that was more functional than tempting. A man could in fact imagine enough beneath it even if said imagination wasn't explicitly being invited. So I took a moment to look at my wife in her current dress and thought about what I should do.

A kiss on the lips feels in order. Probably the best way to transition to as close to physical pleasure as we could in this moment. And so I lean in and place my lips on hers and go for an initiatory kiss.

Astonishingly, she responds more than I expected, even if there's some trepidation. She still wants me; that's good. However, finding our way properly back to one another is an open question.

I figure that I should increase the passion of my kisses. Well, that doesn't quite appear to be the key to this whole ordeal, but they still seem to help. I don't know if they will guide us onto a better path, but the shared pleasure feels like it's actually there.

My inclinations guide me toward moving even closer. A shared nervousness makes me think that explicit communication is ill-advised. So I try to let my body do the talking. I lower a hand to her bottoms and hook my fingers all the way into her waistband and look into her eyes so that she can do the nonverbal thing. All systems are go is what I gather.

And so I expose my wife's lower half, leaving her pussy and perhaps her ass available to me. The curve of her hips accentuates those two areas.

I try to make her feel comfortable, to settle down beside her as agreeably as I can. I know what I'm about to do to her will go beyond innocuous in hopefully a positive enough manner, but some sensitivity seems to be in order.

I wrap an arm around my wife's clothed upper body. I think it's the right thing to do. Hopefully it'll make the act that we're about to partake in more comfortable for her. My fingers begin playing with the edge of her shirt. This pales in comparison to the greater transgressions we've done, but we are where we are.

I remember a much more audacious time when while hiking the urge came over us and we chucked away our clothes in the woods with nary a worry about how we would find them again so that we could experience each other's bodies there and then. In fact, the lack of caution seemed to be a part of it: no safety net, so to speak, just the two of us knowing one another as intimately as possible while saying fuck you to the risks. Our disregard for repercussions really played such a wonderful role, as if we were deliberately downplaying them to prove how great our carnal need for one another truly was.

Alas, we're in a much more private place now where the risks are nonexistent by comparison. Looks like our fun will have to be much less than transgressive. Probably for the best given where our relationship currently is at, sadly.

So if full nudity doesn't appear to be the thing to do perhaps getting as close to comfort as we can with such a carnal act is the way to go. Even though my wife is the most important person to me besides our kids, I haven't reached mind reader status with her. So I can't say my best judgment is right on the money but my best judgment is what I've got.

So I continue with my kisses before going even further around the bases. I keep lying next to her shirted body, planting kisses on her lips and neck until the time feels right to move forward.

Still I don't want to seem meek, since that will almost certainly not do me any favors, at least where passion is concerned. However some feeling of a barrier might be prudent so I make no gesture to remove her shirt. Plus I have no reason to strip her completely bare; I have enough access for my purposes.

I don't think my cock has to make its appearance now, but my finger heat, or maybe my finger pressure, is another story as my fingers make their way to her bottomless nether region. With her pussy bare, it seems fair for my digits to enter her. Her moans sound like they agree with that assessment as my fingers make their way to her clit. That registers as more than agreeable to her; she arches her back as my index finger begins circling her clit.

I start kissing her cheek as I continue circling her clit with my finger. My lips make their way to hers as my circling continues. I can sense her hips begin to rock as my finger does its work.

I try fitting in my middle finger where I can in her pussy as my finger continues its circling. By the sound of her breaths this seems pleasurable enough for her, but hopefully I can grant her even more pleasure. Before more of my body enters into the equation, I want to see if even greater pressure on her clit can do even more wonders. By the sound of her moans, I'm right.

However before my cock meets its reward, I think there's more work to be done, particularly with my tongue. With my fingers continuing to do their work, I lower my head. I can see deeper into my wife's pussy as my fingers begin their transition to another relationship with her opening. My fingers exit their focus on the interior of my wife's cunt and assume their position around the opening of it so that my tongue can have its turn.

I wonder if my warm breath makes any impact as my tongue begins its descent. My fingers part her opening further as my tongue finally makes contact with her clit. I try to go slow but impactful enough as my tongue makes circles around her most intimate nub, my tongue's tip trying to go as wide as possible to optimize her pleasure. I work my licks through her many folds.

She appears to shake, even if it isn't with the intensity I have previously known her to. Yes, there's pleasure, but is there the sublime? Doubtful.

But it would be unfair to discount the effect my tongue is having on her, as far as her moans are concerned. It would be harder than not to fake pleasure like this. At least her walls opening, expanding and contracting seem to confirm this. She feels too slick for pure counterfeit.

Might as well try to suction my lips around her clit as I prepare for my final descent. I've never gotten absolute confirmation that this works, but neither have I gotten a denial. So I do my cross between a kiss and a suck on her clit as my cock is about to do its work. As far as bodily motions from her go, this appears to be doing the trick.

In any case, it's time to assume the position. My cock makes its way out of my boxers for its head to press against my wife's most sacred opening. I take a look into my wife's eyes to make sure, and all signals are clear as my cock's head presses against my wife's soaking entrance.

With time on my side I slowly press into her. This appears to be the correct decision as my wife's mouth opens gradually with pleasure.

I feel her interior grip me with every centimeter my cock breaches her. The way her eyes look as I lower myself into her, well... I don't need to reiterate that we've reached greater heights together, but there are small reminders of when we first began. An echo of the initial novelty seems to be flowing through her eyes.

However my cock can only go so deep into her, and it feels as if it has bottomed out now, apparently to no disappointment on her end. Just a knowledge of how deep my length can go.

With there being nowhere more to go but out and then in, at least until this act is over, I prepare for the main event. Hopefully it will last long enough as I begin my thrusting.

My pumping seems fast and forceful enough for her liking. Her moans are nothing to discount as my cock thrusts in and out of her. Special attention should be paid to the way her mouth moves as we fuck.

Still, perhaps I can make this hopefully new beginning even greater as I try to thrust my cock into my wife's pussy as pleasurably as possible. Now's not the time to rest on my laurels, and so I try to increase the pace of my thrusts even more to my wife's liking.

I figure I should try to bring even more of myself into this act as my fingers try to find a way to rub my wife's clit as my cock does its work. I think that I've done more than required, but few would decry the extra effort. At least my wife's louder moans don't indicate that.

So here I am fucking my wife's pussy with my cock as my fingers do the circle game. Might as well try to go even deeper if I can for both of our pleasure. The sound of our skin slapping together seems to be music to my wife's ears if her facial expressions are anything to judge by. I try playing with the pace of my thrusts on the off chance it helps. It's hard to gauge. I'd assume my finger on her clit is making more of an impact.

Hopefully it has been good enough as the unmistakable signs of my rising orgasm begin to manifest themselves within me. A moan of my own emerges with the telltale signs. The initial signs of stiffness flow through me as my fingers make their last attempts to leave as good a mark as they can on my wife's clit.

Then I cum. My eyes do their thing as my thrusting stops to let the moment of orgasm take over. My wife used to delight in that look in my eyes. Hopefully she does now.

And so some uncontrollable pumps begin to allow the process for my cum to flow into my wife's cunt. My wife has had her tubes tied so there are no more children on our horizon. And yet my seed is making its way into her.

And now that's done. My softening but still hard cock is enjoying its last moments in her.

For better or worse, now that it's done there's nothing else to do but exit her and lie beside her.

One could classify this as nothing more than me doing an act my wife and I had repeatedly done since we were married. Yet there's also the argument that repetition is a form of change. Maybe in the back of my mind is the hope that if we do this even more, then we may break through to something greater.

However, this did indeed feel good. It was nice to know that her folds still welcomed my cock.

I thought about the times my cum had entered her. At this moment her tubes were tied irrevocably, yet I guess one could wax philosophic about my breeding material entering her without the hope of offspring.

Creation by all accounts was no longer reasonably in the cards for us. Yet something creative, that might be... that might be... might be... Well, what exactly that might entail was for further reflection down the line.

However, even if this was the best that we'd fucked in months, the lingering emptiness remained. The heights we hit here were not enough to find bliss. With that in mind I decided some additional discussion was in order.

"Would you mind if I pointed out that we've had much better highs than this?" I asked.

"That's ok," she replied.

"You know I love you. It's just..."

"Our love used to have more zest in it though, right?"

"Was it better when we were younger?"

"We had better moments, but I don't think we're doomed because of our age."

"I don't want to give in to nostalgia but..."

"Better memories do exist."

"And so do all of the memories that have led up to all of this."

"Yeah, but memory is virtual in a way. It's not real in the way the present moment is, if there even is a present moment as some claim there really isn't. So from what I've read, we naturally organize memories chronologically but that's not the only way. We can highlight a specific memory and use it as the basis of what we do next, chronology be damned. All memories exist equally parallel to us in a way," she countered.

"Hopefully this change of scenery could give us the break or disruption to no longer be so guided by chronology," I told her.

"I'd like that," she finished as she moved to go to sleep.

Before falling asleep I thought about how I had promised myself to my wife for the rest of my life. No doubt many other couples allowed for sexual experimentation, swingers and whatnot. Allowing themselves a variety of sexual partners. I had been devoted enough to her in the early days to not ask for that in a marriage. Still, 20 years was a long time, long enough that one might consider the missed opportunities.

Don't get me wrong, I had no complaints about her. It's just that further possibilities began creeping more and more into my mind.

Whatever form they take, I just don't want to continue down this path. I did want my wife alongside me on a different path, but by god, I wanted circumstances to change.

*****

There were plenty of trees to look at as we finished the last leg of our car ride to Uncle Jack's cabin. We were far outside the city with only a mere paved road to keep us on track. The surrounding trees, unplanned by human inclination, dwarfed whatever organizing principle the road offered.

It made me think about when we clear forests and when we keep them around. A city might sometimes have a few stray trees, almost certainly in a garden or something. Somewhere where it was decided they fit in, often curated with signs describing them fully.

Anyways we were headed to a place in which people lived surrounded by trees. Where law and order is a bit more encumbered by having to navigate such foliage.

My son was reading Symbols of Sacred Science by René Guénon in the back. Quite the large book though he appeared to be skipping around. Last I checked he was reading a chapter titled The World Tree, particularly an analysis of something called the inverted world tree.

He had also brought another paper that offered a more modern perspective on Guénon's concept, a rereading if you will. From what he told me, it didn't challenge Guénon's thought so much as read it against itself, an against-the-grain reading or what have you. I had bailed on college philosophy too quickly to understand what that entirely meant.

Either way he seemed to be pretty into branches, whatever those symbolized. Don't know if he had figured out what roots such branches came from in an inverted tree.

My daughter, on the other hand, looked as if she was trying to have a much less mediated experience of the woods, at least not through other thinkers' thought. Even if the car window wasn't doing that any favors, she appeared content to take in the sights of the woods with no electronic device to capture her attention.

My wife, meanwhile, was looking straight ahead, possibly stealing glances at the kids. From what glimpses I could catch while driving there seemed to be a thoughtfulness in her expression, if not a determination. At the very least she was looking at what was coming toward us.

Then we arrived. First thing I did was turn on the power and water so that my wife and kids could make themselves at home while I inspected the exterior. As far as I could tell, the building was secure. In fact, our vacationing neighbor appeared to have gone beyond the call of duty in clearing out any branches or invading foliage. Perhaps people in this neck of the woods honor each other beyond the bare minimum one would expect in the city, even for someone whose life status was doubtful.

One thing that did strike me was the sight of a very odd tree. Someone could call it deformed but it looked as if it were properly alive. I wonder how it got here? I think I would have remembered it if I had seen it the last time I was here and it seems too big to have grown so suddenly.

To explain in more detail, it was almost as if roots were coming out of its side. What they were absorbing from the air I had no idea. They must be there for some reason, I figured. Even if it was almost certain that there were enough roots below its trunk to keep it alive and well. My thoughts turned to what my son had been reading about, though I don't think I could call this an inverted tree however. Sideways maybe.

Weirdly enough, there were flowers laid at the base of the tree. Don't know why anyone would decide to lay flowers underneath such a thing, yet they were there. Ah well, there are greater mysteries that I've walked away from.

So with my outside inspection complete it was time for me to take my bags in and start my inside inspection. By the looks of it the pipes had held together. No broken windows to be seen on the inside either. A few mouse traps our vacationing neighbor had left behind on the off chance, even if food had been taken out months ago.

Eventually I would have to get around to dealing with the remnants of my brother's possessions, figuring out what to keep and what to throw away. Before that though I figured I would check the balcony, both to make sure it was secure and to treat myself to a view. Heading out there, I found my son was already out enjoying the vantage point.

Oh shit. I was not expecting that to be in this view. Following my son's gaze, I realized he was looking straight at two completely naked women about to enter the woods. Can't say I blame him for looking but it was going to lead to one hell of an awkward conversation.

If that wasn't bad enough, it was going to be even more awkward now that I realized my wife and daughter had joined us to see the same sight.

"Oh wow," I somehow decide to awkwardly let out, much to my chagrin.

"Wow is right," my daughter adds, saving me from some awkward silence. This might make things even more awkward however.

"I didn't know people do this sort of thing around here," my son continues.

"Not that I know of," I respond.

"Well it's not like they're hurting anyone," my wife retorts.

I stay silent for a moment. I remember a time when exposing one's body would count as harmful, or at least objectionable. I don't always stay on top of what's considered acceptable or not with the times, but from the looks of things, none of the rest of my family have any signs of disapproval. My son well, he looks like you would expect a young man to look at the sight of two naked beauties. The women in our family appear to be a bit more difficult to gauge. I couldn't argue with the brightness in my daughter's eyes, however. Even if her body language looks as if it is carrying some uncertainty, her overall demeanor seems inspired. As for my wife it looks like something has opened in her mind, as if a new thought has entered it for her to dwell on in wonder. But who knows what looks really mean?

And then the two women crossed into the woods where their bodies were no longer cleanly in view. I stood around a bit looking at the rest of the view so that I could act as if that had been my main focus all along. The rest of my family hung around too, though they didn't seem to even feign interest in the scenery.

Once the appropriate amount of time had passed we all dispersed to our respective tasks. My kids went to ostensibly make themselves at home while my wife went to set up the cooking supplies. With that being done, I went on my way to sort through my brother's belongings.

*****

I was thinking about what to do with this book called This Sacred Earth, and the notebook my brother had filled with notes on it, when the doorbell rang. I heard my wife go to the door, which gave me more time to consider my options. Whatever notes were in this notebook were probably far more pertinent to whatever was going on in my brother's head than anything anyone else could experience. Still, to throw away the evidence of so much time spent by someone sorely lacking a legacy, it seemed like an affront.

Thinking further, it's not like my brother lived in the woods because he hated nature, but yeah I had no idea that he had any interest in the spiritual side of it. I assumed that his interests were based in putting some distance between himself and the wider world. I guess before he disappeared he had been looking into the depths of the place that he had escaped to.

With my wife now actually opening the door there was something to overhear to take my mind off of what to do. "Hello, can I help you?" I heard my wife say from upstairs.

"Oh we just wanted to introduce ourselves," came one female voice.

"Yes, part of the pleasure of living in a less populated area is that a new face becomes a treat," another woman's voice added.

"Well, thank you so much, though we're not staying permanently. In fact we're doing a combination of a family vacation and a sorting through some things."

"Oh we'd thought you all had maybe moved here given what happened to the previous owner. Are you relatives taking account?"

"Yes, he was my husband's brother and we're here partly to go through what's been left behind."

"Our thoughts go out to you all, especially your husband. We know how hard it is to lose a family member, especially given the wonderful man Jack was."

The knowledge that they had known Jack made my ears prick up. There was no way I could concentrate on what to do with his notes knowing that someone else who had known my brother was upstairs. So up the stairs I go, ostensibly to introduce myself but really to hear what they have to say about my brother.

Speak of the devil, the two women who are at our door are the same ones who we saw wander fully nude into the woods about an hour ago. I don't know if my wife has recognized them as the same yet. Anyways they're far from nude now, with the one on the left wearing an outfit almost akin to what one would expect of pilgrim wear, with much bolder greens and browns than one would assume were accepted in those times. The other one is decked out in more gothic attire, which is more tasteful than what one would pick up at Hot Topic but seemingly in the same vein.

"Hello," I say offering my hand to the two.

"Oh you must be Jack's brother. Our condolences. We felt his loss too you know, even if it seems incomparable to the way you must have," says the gothic-looking one as I shake her hand.

"He had quite a freedom of thought. That's rarer than one would hope for, so we were so glad we were able to warm our way into his company. He had some interest in our areas of expertise," adds the more pilgrim-y one.

"And what were those areas of expertise?" I inquire.

"How about we tell you about them over dinner, our treat? The least we can do is cook for you given that you've been dealt such a loss. In fact we often love treating people no matter the occasion; it can be such a blessing to serve others just for the sake of serving," the gothic one adds.

"Any chance to take a break from cooking is one I'll take," my wife stated before I could reply.

"And it'll be our pleasure. Like we said, we really do love providing for others, and if we're being selfish, not enough giving can poison the soul. Just look at all of those who only take and take. It's not hard given that the mainstream has savagely somehow made them the supposed cream of the crop. And anyone with any sense would know exactly how such so-called elites are in fact sickening themselves," continues the pilgrim-looking one.

"I can't say I disagree with you, just that I hope there are more enjoyable things that we can talk about than politics," I reply.

"Oh yes, my mistake. As you know politics can provide such go to examples of poisonous ways of being. But don't fret: given that we'll almost certainly be discussing better ways of being I doubt our conversation will dip into politics given that," she quickly corrects.

"Then it's settled, we'll be at your house for dinner. I can't wait to taste what you will have prepared for us," my wife decides for me.

"And we can't either. I have no doubt in my mind that you won't be disappointed," the Gothic one finishes before leaving, ostensibly to prepare for the evening's festivities.

And I guess that's that. All that's left to do is tell the kids the plan for dinner my wife has set out for us.

*****

And so we arrived at the home of these two women who had a predilection for going naked in the woods. I didn't know if the rest of my family would recognize them as the same women from before. If so it might lead to one hell of an awkward conversation.

Well, nothing more to do but knock on the door and let the chips fall where they may.

And so I did, and the women opened the door to invite us in.

"Make yourselves at home," the pilgrim dressed one said.

And so I walked in with my family following right behind me. I took a gander at my surroundings, a lot of artwork depicting symbols that almost certainly had some special significance that was lost on me.

One thing of note was a lone rabbit kept in a circular pen. What's more, it was like no rabbit enclosure that I had ever seen. There was dirt in it that must have been a pain to move in and out of the house. Plus, there were ferns surrounding it that the rabbit appeared to have no interest in eating.

"Those are sweet ferns, in case you were looking for the proper name. The rabbit's just a little project we have going on. We'd love to talk about it more over dinner," the pilgrim one told me.

Looking at the rabbit some more I saw it attempt to venture into the fern, probably initially out of a prey animal's instinct for hiding. It didn't make for great camouflage; any predator worth its salt could see that it was there and it seemed especially futile against any nose evolved through survival of the fittest.

Yet on further inspection, the rabbit looked as if it was no longer using the fern as a hiding place. The rabbit almost looked as if it was trying to be inside of the fern, as close as it could be to it.

Anyways, the gothic one appeared to have finished her cooking and was setting her circular table for us all to eat. Let's see what they have planned for us.

It seemed like a vegetarian meal was what was prepared. I could recognize squash and an assortment of nuts surrounding it. I could also identify goat cheese with honey, crackers and some specialty bread probably made to be served with whatever alcoholic beverage was in that bottle on the table, with very odd-looking mushrooms at the center.

God those mushrooms were like nothing I'd seen before. Gone was the stereotypical mushroom cap; they were almost like flowers with a hole in the middle; trumpet-shaped or something.

"What are those?" I inquired.

"Oh they're quite a treat. A delicacy we keep for special occasions. The colloquial name is black trumpets. Have some will you?" The pilgrim dressed one said.

I watched her and her companion pass out the mushrooms to my family and me, but set aside none for themselves.

"Aren't you going to eat them if they're such a delicacy?" I asked in confusion.

"Oh well, eating them seems to limit... not quite our connection to the woods, but basically our role in them," the gothic dressed one said.

"What do you mean?"

"We mean that we take our sojourns into the woods with the guidance of both witchcraft and Wiccan teachings. According to those, while these mushrooms may be delicious, they interfere with our playing the role that we think the woods want for us," she continued.

"Fortunately we can have plenty of this. We're very proud of this cyser we've concocted. That pride really carries us through the difficulty of harvesting our own yeast. Fermented with love. Made to instill even better dinner talk with the inhibitions dwindled just enough to really let all of us bloom before one another. It took some time, but we found a way to use certain tree sap to make it taste even better. Plus the zest it brings makes us feel closer to the woods in a way that serves our place. Hopefully that sensation passes on to you," she finished, beginning to pour the cyser into glasses for everyone.

Though I had remaining suspicions, my family dug into the black trumpet mushrooms and drank of the cyser.

"Mmmmm this is delicious daddy. You have to try some," my daughter insisted.

Even if thoughts of the ridiculous number of poisonous mushrooms that are somehow out there flowed through my mind, I did not want to cause my daughter any worry. So I took the leap, deciding that in a worst-case scenario I wouldn't want to live without my family anyway. Wow, those mushrooms did taste delicious. If we all die, we die with a good taste in our mouth.

"I know I keep saying it, but it's such a treat to serve a family," the pilgrim dressed one said.

"Do yours not come up here?" My daughter asked.

"Well, speaking in a certain sense we actually are a family, just one that's been disowned by our larger one," she continued.

"Oh I'm so sorry to hear that. What happened?" My wife asked.

"Hmmmm, it does get into a bit of socially-frowned upon behavior. All I can say is that my cousin and I love each other, we really do, in ways cousins generally aren't permitted," the pilgrim dressed one admitted. "That's the truth and we live by it, very happily if I may add."

This came as quite a shock to me; the rest of my family, however, seemed unfazed. This was a definite taboo being presented to us. Should I say something? It isn't generally considered a man's place these days to judge sexual morality, so I didn't know what effect words of displeasure would have coming from me.

"It's our truth. Sometimes it's better to hide the details of our relationship but it always feels freeing when it's voiced openly," the pilgrim dressed one disclosed.

"We're glad you feel comfortable enough to share that with us," my son said. Well, there went any chance I would express judgement.

"If we're being honest, the lesbian part was much more frowned upon than the cousin part from where we're from," the gothic dressed one added.

"So because we've experienced the sting of unsupportive families, we love families who are there for one another, we really do. Biological and chosen families alike. Our only concern is when someone who is... well, to put it charitably, misguided, and to put it less charitably, inclined towards domination uses the family unit as a system of control. That puts it down the route of 'the father has to do this, the daughter has to do that,' etc., etc. We doubt you all have that problem though. It's so much better when those limits come down and the people in the family are still together to do what's possible after that. That is a beautiful thing indeed," she continued.

"We're glad that Jack had a wonderful family like you all. It's just a shame that he didn't have a wife and kids of his own," the pilgrim dressed one added.

"Oh yeah you said you would tell us about Jack," I remembered. "Please do."

"Where to begin? There were so many specifics we talked to him about. To generalize he had a genuine curiosity about our spirituality and nature. I don't know if you've been going through his belongings, but I'm sure that you've found stuff that showed it rubbed off. We even got to show him where in these woods we practiced our teachings. If there's time, we can show you some of what we showed him in there," she finished.

"Speaking of which, we saw you two walking naked into the woods. Are you two nudists?" My son blurted out. I was too far away to try and shush him so I had no choice but to let such a provocative question play out.

The two laughed. "Not in the strict sense of the word. As you can see from what we're wearing we do love an outfit. The main impetus for such bare travels today was that the woods give some special bestowals to those who venture into them in their natural state. Though we do enjoy our bodies in other contexts," the gothic dressed one answered.

"Oh could I get some of those special bestowals if I were to come with you?" My son tactlessly asked.

This is where I had to draw the line. "Son, don't ask such things!" I admonished.

With a cool head the gothic dressed one let out "oh it's quite all right. Like he said you've already seen our bodies, even if it was from a distance. We have no qualms with him getting a closer look, though. The same goes for any of you. Shame regarding our bodies is just not anything that enters us."

"But having him join you like that?" I asked incredulously.

"He's an adult isn't he?" She asked in response.

"Yes, but..." I tried to continue, but had trouble finding the words.

"Don't worry about it," she chuckled. "I totally understand your reaction. By all accounts this is an odd time for a parent. Your kids are adults in the eyes of the law but you're still planning trips for them, right?"

"Yes, that's right," I confirmed.

"That's a remnant of a father's duty right there, and I'm absolutely sure you will find ways to remain a father as your role with your kids changes. But their needs for a father are changing, isn't that correct?" She additionally inquired.

"I suppose so," I acknowledged.

"And maybe I'm giving the impression that I'm challenging your structure; witches and a patriarch, if I can call you that are not usually seen as a match made in heaven. But like we said we love families. We just want to have your son experience a new sensation as he embarks on a transitional period. We want to provide a possibility, one that allows for a more open mind. No one's trying to lead your son away or take anyone's roles from them; we only want to provide experiences to rethink them, perhaps find an evolution of where you might be headed as a family."

"But you would feel comfortable with my son joining you in such a state?" I inquired.

"I know witches are often associated with misandry, especially dyke ones like us. But I assure you that couldn't be further from the truth. We have a respect for men even if we don't welcome them into our beds. We also know that they have their own hardships, and we like to offer acceptance. Also, while we mostly set our sights locally, every once in a while the curiosity hits and we decide to take a look at what the algorithm has decided is emblematic of feminism, and from what we can tell it needs a new beginning. A discontinuity from where it is now, so to speak. It would be nice if having some women openly accepting your son while showing him something new could counteract that," she finished.

I had no more words. This was so bizarre for me, made even odder by the fact that the rest of my family seemed amenable to all that had been said. I was in ungrounded territory here mentally. The only other thing I could think to do was ask about that rabbit.

"Oh like I said it's a project dealing with our Wiccan and witchcraft teachings. You would agree that a rabbit is seen as prey by a lot of other predators, right? Well, it's part of a spell or ritual to see if it can be more than prey. Here's hoping the constant replacing of the dirt and putting it in the correct place in the woods is worth it, because that can be a pain," the pilgrim dressed one explained.

That was a somewhat more comfortable note for the conversation to end on, at least for me. So I continued with my food and drink, trying to figure out how I would adjust to what I had previously heard.

*****

"Wow, I didn't know our son had that in him," my wife said with almost a tinge of pride as we began getting ready for bed.

"Yeah it's shocking that a 19 year old boy would have it in him to want to wander naked with a pair of equally naked nubile girls," I said sarcastically.

"I'm still proud that he was willing to ask."

"So you're proud of him for basically acting like a horndog?" I couldn't help but caustically ask.

"It's kind of sad that you would characterize wanting to experience something new as being a horndog," she said solemnly. "They were more than accepting of him, even welcoming. I don't know why you think you have grounds to pass judgment here."

"Such invitations seem perverse in a family context, particularly when he's going with incestuous lovers," I added.

"It's not like they can reproduce, can they?" She pointed out. "And like they said they don't swing that way; all they're going to do is explore further possibilities with their bodies, just like we used to do," my wife said while touching me in a way that hinted at sensuality. However, something in me rejected such a notion. I closed off my body language, while wondering how to keep my wife from feeling completely shut out.

"I know we're talking about us both wanting to bring back that passion that we used to have, and I'd like to, I really would. It's just... not like this. Tonight was a lot for me to take in. Could I get more time?" I requested.

"It's more than ok. I know that we'll get there eventually. However our son's boldness and those women we met, it's kind of... well you can see how it inspired me to try to make a move on you. But as I said, it can wait until later," she acquiesced.

"Thanks," I said, having nothing more to say than that as I made my way into bed, hoping sleep would help me process everything that had affected me tonight.

"But it's such a welcome change of pace, finally meeting someone bringing inspiration into our lives," my wife continued, joining me in bed. "Back home there's so much conventionality, with conformity being prized for reasons that feel astoundingly soulless. Hopefully you can see what possibilities of zest they might bring, but I respect that it's a bit of a shock for you. So please let me know if there's anything I can do to help you work through this."

"Ok, I'll let you know tomorrow," I replied, hoping that would be the end of it.

"I'm just really feeling that word 'possibilities' right now. Isn't that a beautiful word, possibilities? So I'm proud of our son for opening up a new possibility for himself. Can't a mom be proud of her son for that?" She continued despite my discomfort.

"You sure chose quite a lascivious thing to be proud of your son for," I couldn't resist retorting.

"I mean, given what our daughter has been through, it might be nice for her to know her brother has had an enjoyable sensual experience with respect from both parties. I know they're not going to be doing anything physical exactly, but you get my point. Maybe part of what our son is experiencing can provide us with the inspiration we were talking about before we went on this trip."

"Doesn't seem appropriate for our son to inspire us in that way," I grumbled.

"Like they said, he is an adult, and besides we were talking about how to regain the passion that we had when we were his age, right?"

"You got me there," I admitted, hoping that would be the end of it.

My wife seemed to accept that and she finally turned the light off so that sleep could give me a respite from this unreality that I had somehow stepped into.

I lay there feeling like I was failing. I didn't want to crush what had seemingly galvanized my wife. It's just... who talks about their kids like that? Maybe the puritan attitude toward sex in our country's history had sunk its hooks into me in a myopic manner. But by god, I had known nothing to guide me through what had been suggested tonight.

*****

It was hard to gauge what to keep and what to clear out after such a disorienting day yesterday, made even worse by the fact that my son had actually gone over to our neighbors'. I tried to put it out of my mind, but my wife's admiration for such a bare act... Well my brain was getting some blockages trying to reconcile that fact.

Also, on further reflection, it was entirely possible that my brother Jack had joined those two cousins in the state that my son was currently in. Maybe more likely than not given the praise that they had heaped on his open mind. The idea that someone who had been raised alongside me had done such a thing brought feelings that I did not want to turn into actual thoughts.

With all this buzzing in my mind it was hard to be confident myself that I was judging accurately what to keep and what to throw away. Take, for instance, this mass-produced copy of a painting of a woodland nymph on my brother's desk. I'd assume that the frame around it had more monetary worth than this replica, and even the frame looked a bit chintzy.

Yet staring at this print felt like the closest thing to grounding I'd had since last night. Just seeing this nymph in harmony with nature... At least it wasn't compelling anyone directly. It was solely showing this nymph in pure contentment with her surroundings. Made me glad that pictures were a medium best known for stillness.

I felt kind of bad, but it was nice to feel something that didn't come from a real person. Maybe a presence coming from a source other than my family or neighbors is just what I need. This will have to do. The picture lives to see another day.

But then I heard what was almost certainly my son coming back from his unclad sojourn with our incestuous neighbors. That gave me quite a pit in my stomach, one that didn't feel like it would go away on its own. Fuck it, it's Miller time.

So I head upstairs to see if alcohol could dampen my seemingly increasing mental turbulence. I grab a beer, open it and let it flow into my mouth.

While I'm up there I find the door to my son's room is slightly ajar. I take a brief look and... fuck, my wife and daughter are sitting on his bed with him. I can only be thankful that at least he hadn't come back naked. I don't know what I could possibly do if my son had exposed his body to my wife and daughter right now.

Something in me leads me to move out of any possible sight but stay close enough to overhear what they have to discuss.

"So how was it?" My wife goes first.

"Oh it was incredible. They were being honest about not swinging that way, but they still had appreciation for the male body. Even gave me a friendly chuckle when I immediately popped a boner once we got out of our clothes. The way they looked at it made me think they found some beauty in it," my son responds.

"Were they really comfortable with their bodies? I mean, from what I saw so far away they seemed to be, but up close..." My daughter asks.

"Nary a worry in their bodies. Just pure comfort with their bodies, no self-judgment at all, or toward mine anyways. Only chipper spirits as we enjoyed nature as freely as possible," my son continues.

"Where did they take you in the woods?" My wife inquires.

"Oh, they led me through trees and rivers and whatnot, but where they led me to was this dead log that the rest of nature was starting to lay claim to. Many roots and fungi had found their way to it. Some moss had grown on it too," my son continues.

"'That hard-on you have must be quite a bother,' one of them said to me," my son retells.

"'It's all right if you don't mind," I replied to her."

"'We wouldn't say we mind but it can't be ideal to carry around unfulfilled desire, can it? How about we give you a sight to help take care of it? There's just one simple favor that we will ask in return when the time is right. Incredibly simple, I'm sure you won't mind,' the other said," my son speaks as he continues his tale.

"Stunned, I nodded my head and their lips locked instantly. Between breaks their tongues passionately collided in each other's mouths until it was time to move their mouths to their breasts. They really drew out the act, almost certainly for my visual pleasure. By god, they were 100% right about not being misandrists. I have had girlfriends who haven't cared as much about my pleasure, even if they went all the way with me. Anyway those two cousins really put on a show. They really wanted to give me a good time," my son tells them.

"And so my hand instinctually wrapped around my cock with pure lust powering my strokes. Ostensibly being placed in the position of the guy who can only pleasure himself is supposed to be emasculating, but it sure didn't feel that way," my son says, continuing his story.

"As they say, masturbation is sex with someone you love," my wife jokes.

"Anyways, they brought their naked bodies down onto the ground with such a sensual effort, so that gravity would be on their side to better show off their pleasuring of one another. They left kisses all over their naked bodies, lingering on each kiss to keep the visual element in mind," my son adds.

"Then it was time for their tongues to enter their most intimate of places. I couldn't get a gynecological view of their fornication, but it looked hot, and the beauty of their moans more than made up for what I couldn't see."

"For some reason they knew I was about to cum. The one who was being eaten out turned to me and said, 'Now it's time for that favor. Just aim your orgasm at that log. That's all you need to do.'"

"That sounded like the best deal of the century. So when the time came I shot out my cum onto the log as best I could. Though I mainly have experience covering my tip with tissues when I blow my load, this trajectory couldn't help but look different, almost as if my sperm was magnetized or something. It landed as ideally as possible on the log, right where the roots, moss and fungi met. I doubt my eyes could tell accurately, but it seemed to move of its own accord to touch them, almost as if it were connecting them."

"Anyway they finished their lovemaking and thanked me for the small favor. I told them it was my pleasure, and that I would cum wherever they wanted if I could see such sights like that. They chuckled and said they might just take me up on the offer. Hell they might let me watch just because. Why not make me feel good after all?"

"And so we all walked naked out of the woods together in the afterglow of what we had shared."

"And you all felt good about it? You all walked away sharing such a feeling, basking in what you all experienced together?" my daughter hopefully inquires.

"As far as I know. They would have to be pretty hypocritical to have judgment in their hearts, given the status of their relationship," my son answers.

"I'm glad that you got to experience a special event like that, son. Not many people do," my wife adds.

"Yes, it would be a wonderful world if everyone could have experiences akin to what we went through, though if they can't, I'm glad I was one of the lucky few," my son states.

"Maybe I could know something similar too," my daughter adds.

"I hope you can. In fact, I'm sure there's a way," my son answers.

Well that seemed pretty debauched. Far beyond an appropriate family conversation but it looks like I'm outnumbered here in feeling discomfort. Three out of four have apparently decided that such discussion is acceptable; the odds aren't looking too good in my favor.

No one could blame me for partaking in Miller Time Part 2 after this can is empty.

*****

It was the next morning. I had maneuvered my way to let as little of what I was feeling slip to my wife. From what I had overheard last night they all seemed happy, but god how is such a family who could discuss such things going to be able to return to polite society?

Looks like today's another chance to figure out how the fuck I'm going to maneuver my way through this one. Well it looked that way until I saw the sight in front of me. I would have let out one hell of a spit take if I'd had anything in my mouth when I saw my daughter completely uncovered. Naked as the day she was born, now grown into a full figure.

Just then my son walked in and said "looking good sis."

"Why thank you, brother," she replied. There went my chance for any admonishment. With the way things were going, my wife would be equally accepting.

"In fact, I would get naked with you so that you weren't alone, but something tells me that you want to experience the thrill of being the only naked one here," my son added, to my chagrin.

"It's an idea that inspired me, yes," my daughter admitted as I stood there, still saying nothing. What was there even to say?

Well, my wife thought of something when she walked into the room and said "oh wow, what a beautiful woman you've grown into. I can't imagine a guy not finding you sexy."

"Thanks mom," she replied.

Now I was the only one left in conspicuous silence. Being put in a position that no father should ever be put in.

"It's ok, daddy," my daughter said, trying to comfort me. "You can look at me guilt-free. I'm your daughter but I also have a body that carries womanly beauty. You can enjoy looking at my nakedness, daddy. You can find my naked body beautiful."

God where did she learn to talk like that? I remained standing there silent. Words would not come out of me, not that I would want them to.

"I know, daddy. You must have been taught to be the man in control, as most daddies are. My unadornment must trigger the need for control that was unfairly placed upon you. It's not your fault; no one in their right mind would blame you for feeling this way. I just want to show you another possibility, daddy, one where you feast your eyes on my womanly nakedness that has been the obsession of men since the beginning of time. You've given me so much, daddy. Why not give you the gift of letting you see the pure unabashed femininity of the daughter you raised without any obstruction?" She asked.

God had my daughter gone descriptive on me. "I... I just want you to be happy," I mustered. Fuck, that felt inadequate. I could only futilely hope that was a good enough start.

"And so do I, daddy. It's ok if you don't want to say anything more. It must be a lot to wrap your head around. I hope once you do you feel as good as you deserve to feel," my daughter concluded.

"So sis, do you want to see if our neighbors are up for a further adventure? I doubt you have to put on any clothes to do so. In fact you're one step ahead of me in that regard," my son asked my daughter.

"Sounds like a plan," my daughter replied. And with that they made their way off, leaving just my wife and me while I once again dealt with my seemingly failing attempts to pick up the mental pieces.

"I'm proud of you for not discouraging her," my wife says to me.

"Somehow I think that discouragement would have been the correct action," I mutter.

"Well then you would think wrong. Did you not see how happy she was? How good being in her bare skin made her feel?" My wife asks.

"Like our daughter said, there has been a lot to wrap one's head around," I reply.

"I personally admire her confidence. I'm sure her resulting journey with her brother and our neighbors will do nothing but give her even more confidence. In fact, I look forward to seeing how much more confident she can get in her skin."

"I can't think of any circumstance where it's recommended that a father admire his daughter's naked body. In fact, by almost every standard it's judged," I let out.

"That's nonsense. Beauty should be admired whenever presented, even in this case. We have had many a great time basking in our own nakedness. Her body is not forbidden, if it were she couldn't have shown you her nakedness could she have? And now that she has, why not appreciate it, guilt-free?"

"I can't help but think about how that boy made her cry through his deception. Such actions with her body will surely attract more boys like that," I admit.

My wife's expression softens a bit as she thinks about how best to ease my concerns. "I know it hurts to see your daughter hurt, especially in such an intimate way. But here's your daughter exploring the light with her body while a man like that hid his true self away. She's showing herself fully, not afraid of those who might want to take advantage of her. In fact, she may be growing the confidence to stand up to those who treat her as a mere object. Like I said, it's not her nakedness that's the problem; in fact it may be the solution. It might show a comfort with herself that would make such ill-willed men second-guess their deceit, given they're dealing with such boldness, confidence and self-acceptance."

"I still don't know how to deal with being asked to admire my daughter's nakedness as a father," I confess.

My wife smiles, confident that she can help me out here. "Women are naturally beings of grace; being unclothed only unconceals that. How much comfort has my naked body given you even if we've hit a rough patch as of late? She naturally carries that womanly beauty with little of your own doing, so why not admire it? Why not admire the bare beauty that you raised? You don't have to fight it, my love. I'm sure you'll find what your honest reaction is once you stop fighting it judgment-free. You will see her nakedness as a gift to be admired."

"It's been so long since you've spoken so passionately to me, wife. What's changed?"

She smiles even more. "Because I think our sharing the sight of our daughter's nakedness might spark the new beginning we've been looking for. She's around the same age that we wanted to reach back to and take of its essence. And what a reach! We've just seen the breasts of a youth blooming into this world, lush curves that were once like mine to bolster the beauty of her ass. And most importantly, her hidden flower. The same genitalia that you have called my pussy, open to whatever sensations that the world has to offer her most cherished of openings."

I'm taken aback that my wife is using such explicit words. "When have you ever used such terms?" I ask.

"I guess something has come over me. I'm using such descriptions because they are almost certainly the best way to get us to that new beginning that we both want. Shock you with what you know to be true. You needed to hear the description of our daughter's nakedness in a manner that refinement can't dilute. That she has the same body shown in porno mags but with no middleman to reframe her as an object for consumption. Though nudity is not always sexual, we sure do connote a lot of sexuality with it. Now, does seeing such a beginning of a woman's body, even if it is your daughter's, make you want to break the chronology of our relationship? Project the freshness of your daughter's breasts, ass and pussy onto mine? To try to follow the joy in her body that she just found with me?" Who are you and what have you done to my wife's mouth?

God help me, I'm getting hard. Uncontrollably hard. Passionately hard. How can this be happening? Out of all of the things my daughter's nakedness is what reignites our spark?

"You wouldn't judge me if I take this feeling to bed with you, wife?"

She grins excitedly. "I wouldn't have it any other way. It's only right that we admire the fullness of the body that we created and have that admiration bring us closer together. It's fitting that we re-enact the same act that created her in the first place after we've seen her unadorned body. Now that we've seen the wonders of the end result, let's use that encounter with that wonder to finally fuck each other good for the first time in as long as we can remember."

With that my wife takes hold of my hand and excitedly leads me to the bedroom. Once inside, she pushes me on the bed. "Now let us experience each other's nakedness in the wake of such a sight," she says, reaching for the waistband of her pants and pulling them down before she makes short work of her own shirt. With a bit of eroticism in mind, but not enough to slow down the excited pace of the encounter, she strips off her bra and panties, leaving herself as naked as our daughter had been.

"With this view feel the enjoyment you denied yourself when you saw our daughter's equal nakedness. Though my breasts may be fuller than hers with my maturity, they still have the same softness that brings pleasure for both parties when they're touched," my wife commands before turning around.

"And my ass, honey, time has claimed it, but once it was just like the same ass that you saw on our daughter. We both share the same round sweep that has captivated men to such great heights."

She then turns around to show me her front again, this time parting her legs and opening her folds with her fingers. "And last but not least, see how much of my opening that I'm showing you now. See how it blooms for you, just like our daughter's will bloom for the lucky guys she chooses. Now feel the more experienced version of what our daughter carries between her legs."

And with that she ravishes the clothes off me with incomprehensible speed. Honestly a lot of seemingly incomprehensible things have been happening recently.

"Now it's time to experience the full gift of where our daughter's nakedness has led us," my wife continues as she lowers the slick, wet heat of her pussy onto my cock, my length making its way through her walls with us both relishing the friction our intimacy mutually creates. Her internal muscles do their work around my hardness as she begins her bouncing.

I couldn't even bring myself to try to finger her clit with the force she's fucking me with; I'm sure it would have been a futile endeavor, given the speed she's bouncing on me with.

I'm sure the looks in our eyes are almost inhuman. At least hers are, and no doubt in my mind I'm feeling a holy sensation as my wife's pussy rides my cock, pouring what feels to be her maternal pride and carnality into fucking each other as good as possible. She then shifts her weight even more to make sure I'm as deep as I could be inside her, throwing in a good grind for variety's sake.

Thank god this isn't one of those sex acts that are judged by longevity, it's for sure one of those cases of what burns brightest burns half as long as we both make our final thrusts and cum at the same time.

"I can't believe I finally feel like it's ok that this caused our new beginning," I admit with gratitude.

"I'm so glad you do. Just know there will be much more to come. I promise you," she assures me, rolling off of me, her equally naked body lying next to mine in postcoital bliss.

*****

Feeling the best I'd felt in recent memory, I woke to my now-empty bed. Though it would have been nice to have woken up together, I would be a fool to harbor any ill feelings towards my wife after what she caused me to experience last night.

Getting dressed, I exit my room to find my daughter once again completely naked. This time however, I feel completely at ease seeing her without clothes. In fact, I even feel a little proud of myself for being able to admire my daughter's naked beauty.

"Hey daddy, you seem to be much more comfortable seeing me like this," she says to me.

"Your mother really helped me through that; she's the one to thank. Speaking of which, where is she?" I ask.

"Well, there's something I need to tell you regarding that. Some decisions have been made about where we're going forward from here as a family. Here, let me show you something, daddy."

And so I follow my naked daughter trying to keep a respectful gaze on her as her swaying ass guides me.

When she stops, I see she's led me to a pile of clothes. With further inspection, it appears to be my son's and wife's, and god, even their underwear is in the pile.

"What's going on?" I ask with concern, hoping that the answer isn't going to be what I fear it is.

"Your wife and son are out there enjoying their bodies in the woods before they consummate their relationship," she admits to me.

My stomach quickly sinks.

This is a line. A huge fucking line. This is no longer about body positivity or human beauty anymore. I know our neighbors have already crossed it, but us...?

"Now you have a choice, daddy. You can either deal with the fallout of your wife and son's decision to experience each other as intimately as possible..."

"Or?" I ask with trepidation.

"Well you can either get cucked or you can get fucked by me."

And there it is. Any chance of having a family that isn't damned by the rest of the world is now gone.

My wife has betrayed me in the most desecrating manner possible... Or has she?

The hysterical thoughts find their way through my head again. My wife's framing of our daughter's nakedness had brought us to what I believed could be a new beginning. However, that new beginning has been torched by the taboo my wife and son have decided to partake in, leaving nothing that could be built directly from it.

"Hey, daughter?" I ask shakily.

"Yes, daddy," she responds with great affection.

"You know that I love you, right?" I try to confirm.

"Of course, daddy. How could I not?" She responds.

"So you know that I never want to do anything that will harm you," I tremble.

"How will fucking me harm me at all? It only seems possible that it would do the exact opposite," my daughter counters.

"Well, there's the taboo of it all, for one. And... and..."

"And what if I don't give a fuck about taboos if that's the only thing that keeps me from experiencing you as much as I can?" She challenges.

"And, also, your uh... sexuality is supposed to guide you further out into the world. To lead you on a journey to find guys that you want to be with in that way. Expand your horizons so to speak."

"What, like that guy who lied to me so vilely?" She laughs.

"It's just that uh... most fathers who pursue such things with their daughters are regarded as... predators. I guess now that your mother is currently pursuing that with her son, that makes her a..." I continue to stammer.

"Your son seemed super excited about it. From his expression that appears to be one ludicrous example of predation," she counters.

"Look you've been such a good daddy to me. You really have. You've comforted me when I needed you to. But why can't we expand our relationship so that I can return the favor and make you feel good? Hell make us both feel so fucking good at the same time victim-free," she presses.

"You would be considered to be my victim if I did that," I let out.

"Considered by who? By no one who knew how horny I am for you right now. Why limit our relationship to their standards? Because some people decided that they and they alone should decree what a daddy does? That a daddy can't fully love his daughter's body because that's wrong somehow? What action do you honestly think would make you the best daddy possible? One that doesn't allow his daughter to experience her father's love as fully as possible?"

"You could still find someone who will treat you right," I try again.

"I don't think that has been laid out in the cards for me, daddy. In fact, I feel it in my bones. Why else would I want to know you as fully as possible? At least, that's all I seem to want. There must be a reason for it, right, daddy? A reason that makes me feel as far from depravity as I do when I fantasize about fucking you," she pushes further.

"Would you actually be a good daddy if you handed me off to someone I wanted far less than you, daddy? That doesn't sound like a very good daddy once you think about it, does it? There are such games and competition with boys today with nary an ounce of morality in them, survival of the smoothest, as they once said. But I don't want that. Please have me so I can have something better than that, daddy. Let us give ourselves to each other with no taking involved. Think about what pain this society or what have you expects me to go through in the so-called dating, and those guys who celebrate their own immorality by saying it's just the rules of the game. I don't feel any games with you, daddy. In fact, I don't want to feel any games ever again. Please, daddy, please don't feel you have to continue to raise me like you think you do. I'm a legal adult now; you can love me in every way possible now. Let us join together as equally as a man and woman can," she pleads.

"Mommy even laid the groundwork for this to happen when she fucked you yesterday. She showed you and fucked you with the same parts I have. You're all warmed up for this, daddy. All that's left for you is to step up to bat and make this family what it was meant to be," she encourages.

God, what a daze in my head. All grounding in morality and proper parenthood seems to have abandoned me. The only thing I can think of to say is essentially a repeat. "I just love you, daughter, I really do."

"I do too daddy, and?" she presses.

"I want you to feel good," I finally confess.

"Oh, and I want you to feel good too daddy, so good. Let's just do it now, daddy. Let's go to bed so we can take our relationship past the most wonderful precipice, one that we can never return from, as if we would ever want to. Let's enjoy our bodies so completely until I feel the seed that made me inside of me," she almost squeals.

And so she grabs a hold of me and her naked body guides me to the bedroom. Me in a daze, not entirely sure what possessed me to go along with this. But deep down inside I know there's a genuine want for this, even though the turmoil in this isn't yet over in me. My daughter could grasp enough of this also as she glances back at me and notices that even if I've agreed I still haven't actually found my bearings.

"This is going to be good, daddy. You're going to make me feel so good. There's nothing wrong with feeling good, is there?" She asks, reminding me.

I think about it, and yes, this does actually feel like it's going to be good. Now that the moral dilemma has passed over me, all I experience is the love for my daughter. I'm going to use that love to show her the best sexual highs that I can. All doubt in my morality has dissipated from me. My daughter was right; this is going to be good.

I nod at my daughter, and with that nod her smile becomes the happiest it has ever been. Carrying that beam, she leads me into the bedroom.

Inside, we stand enjoying each other's presence for a moment. Though she's completely naked and I'm clothed, we feel so blessed to have this moment. I'm sure she'll feel even more blessed once she gets me out of these clothes.

And so I lead the way for that by kissing her lips in a manner that starts as a father's kiss and becomes a lover's kiss, my tongue entering her eager mouth. Her own tongue joins in on the action and we tangle them before we pull apart and my daughter rips my shirt off as fast as she can.

Then I push my naked girl onto the bed so I can move forward toward experiencing her as my daughter and my lover at the same time.

I then lay my body upon her, trying my hand at softer kisses on her lips as I move to take the rest of my clothes off. If I hadn't felt morally in the clear before, I do once the love her lips impart upon mine clears up whatever misgivings I could ever have. She even tries her best to help me get as bare as a state as she is.

"Yes, yes and yes!" She clamors excitedly when she sees that my clothes have come completely off. "Oh god, I'm so glad I get to see you like this daddy!" She continues, looking at my naked body and my rock hard cock. "Especially given what you're going to do to me with your manhood."

"Well there's another appendage that needs to do its work to make sure you're wet enough for what's between my legs to do its job properly," I say as I lower myself down my daughter's body. Once I'm in between her own legs, I open her folds and let her feel the most experienced tongue she has almost certainly ever known. All the right lessons from eating out my wife came back to me, and none of the disappointing instances fly out of me and into play as I lick her pussy and clit with my learned tongue. She seems in bliss as far as her moans are concerned. In fact, her moans sound angelic, as if she's feeling something divine with me. And if I was mistaken about that belief, at least I got to taste her cum when I drove her to orgasm.

"Now are you ready for what made you to enter you?" I ask my daughter sensually.

"Is that even a question?" She jokes as she spreads her legs as wide as possible for me to take her.

And so the point of no return goes bye-bye. I betray everything that's expected of a father by lowering my cock into my daughter's pussy, much to her delight. I snake it in gradually so that she can feel the feeling of it entering her as much as possible for our first time.

Then come the thrusts. God, her face likes that. I'm sure her looks will like it even more when I increase my pounding.

"I'm so happy that I can do this for you, daughter," I say while I pick up the pace. "Show you that your needs and desires can find a home and satisfaction with my body. Show you how physically you can be adored. Have you experience as much as possible what a body has to impart through sex."

"And I'm so glad I get to experience this with you, daddy," she says as her interior walls try their best to take as much pleasure as possible from my thrusting cock. I try to honor their commitment by making my increasing thrusts as tender and yet as powerful as possible.

Then my speed hits its peak. Nothing more to do but experience our fucking until my orgasm indicates it's over for now. But while we're savoring this everything seems sublime. We're engaging in such a taboo and collaboratively working together to make it an act of pure love. Polite society is now forever undermined in my eyes for thinking what we're doing could ever be wrong.

How could such a mutual enjoyment of the sound of the wet, rhythmic slapping that the most intimate parts of our bodies are making be wrong? The pleasure flowing through my daughter's face is providing such counter-evidence that it could never be as I aim my member as deep inside of her as possible until the most glorious of endings reaches us.

And then comes the tingle. My cock shoots cum inside my daughter's pussy until the spraying stops. One hell of a first time together, with the promise of many more to come.

With that it's time for me to roll off of her, making sure to snuggle my naked body against her equally naked body to give her the gift of continuing to feel how close we are now. What's done is done, and by the looks on our faces we're all the happier for it.

*****

And so after that I stopped bothering with trying to figure out what to do with Jack's possessions. Heck, the idea of our kids returning to college didn't enter our consciousness at all. We didn't even tell the school they weren't going back. It almost certainly would have been financially wise if any of us had bothered to check, but like I said we couldn't be bothered.

It wasn't like there was a point. Our ability to function in so-called polite society was farcical now. Not with the pleasures we had given each other. Our relations would never find acceptance in civilization as we know it. We had no choice but to enjoy the path less taken for the rest of our lives.

Our kids eventually fucked each other; we even watched them. My wife and I casually pleasured each other's genitalia as we watched my son enter my daughter. We didn't pleasure each other so much that it distracted us from the sight, just enough to share the mood with our kids. From what we could gather, they didn't feel the same transcendence as when they fucked their parents. Still, they seemed to appreciate the increased connection and the additional experience of knowing each other more intimately. At least to the degree that they fucked each other more than once.

We pretty much drifted into something akin to nudism. It wasn't a conscious choice but modesty no longer served any purpose for us. It had gone the way of the dodo. We were all open to any opportunity to fuck and so a lack of clothing was convenient in that regard. My wife didn't even bother with her clothes when she greeted our neighbors to accept their next invitation for dinner.

*****

So we went to our neighbors' for another dinner. I assumed that they suspected our family's relationship had become like theirs. My wife answering the door au naturel was one hell of a tip-off in that direction. It wasn't like they could very well judge, unless they wanted to go down one hell of a hypocritical route.

Their friendly smiles indicated that was not the case as they welcomed us in. There was almost an extra warmth in their eyes, as if something had happened that caused them to be even more pleased to see us than before. The way they pulled out our chairs for us to sit and served us our food was almost nurturing.

The food was the same, with them making sure to serve us those black trumpet mushrooms and their special cyser again. They were as delicious as last time, so we partook of them even more. It was during such culinary enjoyment that our attention turned to the rabbit, still in its pen.

"It's time to let you all know that we invited you here for a special occasion," the gothic dressed one announced. "Hopefully an event that will provide you comfort and possibly inspiration."

The pilgrim dressed one went over to the rabbit's pen and said, "you would all agree that this bunny here is seen as prey by foxes and wolves or what have you. Just something to consume, and if it's lucky, it might produce even more prey to be consumed, more likely than not. But beauty seems almost sacrilegious to consume. That's almost certainly an evolutionary defense in its own way. There are pockets of said beauty through which we can glimpse the creator's, or creators', way of thought; we on our end haven't come to a certain conclusion as to how many of them there are. From our experience, however only one creator looks unlikely. Lots of dualism and contradictions in this world we inhabit. This does not appear to be the work of a single vision."

The pilgrim dressed one was now standing over the pen. "Anyways, though cute, a rabbit's existence is a scary one. With its peripheral vision and its large ears, it is designed to always be on the lookout. Beauty, on the other hand, stands there without a care in the world, knowing that only the most shameful people would dare damage it, and that righteous people will eagerly stand up in its defense against those who would dare desecrate it," she continued.

"You see we caught this rabbit. By the rules of nature we are more than entitled to feast on it. Rabbit meat does in fact have a part to play in some delicacies. Eat or be eaten, as they say. But what if we took another direction with it, such as beauty?" The pilgrim dressed one additionally remarked.

"In fact many beautiful works of art have been made regarding rabbits. Van Gogh himself painted quite a piece involving rabbits. Makes a girl wonder if she can make the transformation more material on this plane we're on. Art can do it, so why not physical reality?" She asked as she made some openings in the pen. The rabbit made no attempt at escape.

The gothic dressed one then strode over to the pen while saying "prey by most definitions runs. So a being that chooses to stay can hardly be called a prey. Sacrifice is probably the word most people would reach for after that, but what if there's another possibility?"

And so, surrounding the pen, the cousins began an incantation in a language I had no familiarity with, and... What the fuck? What was happening to the rabbit? What I was seeing was hard to accurately put into words, but it was changing. Shifting, transforming, mutating until.... Were those flowers now? With deep silver petals.

"The proper term is harebell in case you were wondering," the pilgrim dressed one said as she looked over the resulting transformation. "Of course without the blue and purple color that they're known for. It's almost safe to say that this color is the doing of the rabbit's original essence. We didn't know for sure it would be this color beforehand."

One thing that hinted at that possibility was the way the flower petals seemed to move of their own accord, almost as if they were listening.

With our family stunned the gothic dressed one added "now you can't possibly classify this as prey, can you? Perhaps this really is beauty. A possible feast for the mouth has become a feast for the eyes, so to speak. A sight to only take in through memory or possibly a photo if people so choose it."

The pilgrim dressed one continued, "tomorrow we will give the rabbit a new provider. We'll transfer it from us by planting it in the woods so that its nurturers will now be the sun and the soil. We have some ideas of what planting this among the trees will do, but the reality is anyone's guess. Only time will tell what these newly formed petals take from the sunlight and transfer to the soil below them."

As our family left the dinner, I wondered how seeing this rabbit change form might have changed us in our own way. I doubted seeing such a transformation could have zero impact on us. What new thoughts or explorations of possibilities would enter our minds? I suppose those answers would be revealed with time. I sincerely doubted that the answer would be nothing.

*****

After that the cousins started delivering those black trumpet mushrooms and their special cyser directly to our doorstep while we fucked like... well, rabbits. It was in fact during such a fuck that I noticed something.

You see my daughter wanted a less civilized act. She had leaned herself over the counter and positioned her ass, her pussy peeking through directly at me. My cock could not refuse such an invitation.

As I went to position my hand on my daughter's ass, something about my fingertips caught my attention, which caused me to inspect closer. I was taken aback as I saw that gone were the ridges normally associated with fingerprints; in their place were rings akin to the ones one would find in a tree stump, faint, tight circles like the grain of a cut tree.

Taking a moment before entering my daughter I took her hand to inspect it and found the same rings on her hand too.

She appeared to grasp what I was examining, that something was happening to our bodies. She might even have figured this out before I did. Yet that womanly grace my wife had described earlier seemed to flow through her when she asked me, "would you be ok with what's happening to us, if that were the cost of knowing each other in this way?"

"Would you?" I asked in return.

"Absolutely," she confirmed.

"Then I think you know my answer," I finished.

And with that, this time when my cock plunged into my daughter's cunt the simultaneity of the pleasure spread all over me, as if it were transferring through my veins to every single part of my body. God was the sensation good. I can only imagine my daughter was feeling the same way.

I didn't forget to impart the wildness that my daughter wanted from me for this specific act either. With this increased flow of sensation I playfully pulled on her hair, causing just the right amount of pain to increase the pleasure.

I kept driving myself into her with lunge after lunge that shook her body. Her breaths became sharp as she experienced her daddy fuck her with as much force as could still feel good. Her pussy rewarded me by gripping my cock in worship as I hammered into her.

The animality in me came through as my thrusts increased in urgency and I readied myself to mark her interior with my seed once more. I poured myself fully into this act so that she would know I had once again fucked her as fully as possible. It's almost impossible that she could learn that lesson too much. And with my breaking point reached our moans formed a cacophony as I made one final thrust as deep as possible, so that my cum could go as far into her as possible.

*****

My family and I were all lying naked in bed after one hell of a fuck session, lounging in the aftermath. Especially in our bare state, it was impossible to ignore the changes that were happening to us.

Some lines were popping up from under our skin that couldn't be chalked up to elongated veins. Looking into each other's eyes as we fucked, we saw that our irises weren't staying the same color, with the lines in them and the veins around them looking more like roots and branches. Our skin had never been so olive colored, with some green that could almost be mistaken for a bruise appearing on our knees and shoulders. It felt like there may be some webbing between our fingers too.

"You know something's happening to us right?" I acknowledge. "Something that might not be reversible if we stay here. But this does feel so good," I then concede.

"I think I've had enough of the limits of a conscious life," my son responds. "Whatever path we're on feels too good to fear any consequences for knowing this feeling. As long as a semblance of this sensation remains, I can't care about any repercussions."

"I'm just worried about losing the connection between us now. Don't get me wrong, the pleasure's so wonderful, but the connection..." My daughter admits.

"I can't say for sure but something in me highly doubts that we'll ever lose each other after this. I really don't feel like we're in any danger of this discontinuing," my wife states. "In fact I feel the opposite. I feel like there's more in store for us."

*****

And so with our decision to let whatever happens happen made, I decided to take a look at Jack's notebook. I decided that with whatever was going to happen, I might as well learn some of his final thoughts from the book he had been reading. Maybe there were words in there that I could carry with me into whatever was going to become of me.

One quote that was written out fully in his notebook was "If we ignore our connection to the land and deny our relationship to the pansexual nature of earth, we will render ourselves impotent as a species." Though I was far from pansexual I would assume such a grounding in the earth allowed for the sexual pleasures my family and I had known together.

There was more writing on the boundaries of the body being open and indeterminate, more like membranes than barriers. How our bodies draw their sustenance from what surrounds them and then contribute themselves, spreading out so it is difficult to discern where a living body begins and ends.

There was some further writing on how Foucault's account of sex fell short because it was entirely too humanistic, or too human-focused. I guess he didn't include the natural world or something. I don't know; this was a bit too intellectual for me however. Perhaps I'd live through such a thing before I ever understood it.

*****

Finally, the day came when our neighbors approached our door completely naked. Few of us had to take anything off to match their state.

Without question, we followed them into the woods. I stabbed my foot on a sharp twig that stuck in it, but I felt no need to pull it out. The pain that normally would have served as a warning in no way registered.

Eventually we reached the place in the woods where they had meant to guide us to. "Thank you all for giving us the chance to rectify the mistake that we made with Jack," one said. "We thought only a male would be necessary; at least that's what our book said. However, since our teachings were first formed, the man's role just isn't what it used to be."

"We can't help but feel regret," the other continued. "The way your relative Jack signaled himself as a possible candidate for transformation opened our minds. We really do wish we could have given him greater possibilities. We honor his remnants with flowers. At least we know for certain that we won't make the same mistake with you all."

"We know now that a family, especially a family that has been de-hierarchized in the way you have enjoyed each other, will for sure work. We now have the harmony that was missing, and we can cultivate that harmony to a greater degree with you all with the earth you will now be planted in, while breaking from the consumption that characterizes life, by giving through transformation," she added.

Though such words would frighten a rational man, a calming feeling came over me. Shouldn't we all want to lay the groundwork for a better future? Why not do that by giving ourselves to the real world, not the constructions of modern living? Besides, whatever was to happen to us we were all in this together. My wife, my son, my daughter and I were all on equal footing here. Heck, even these witches before us had skin in the game.

"We're glad you were so open to our guidance with our first letter," one of them said to my son. So that answered that mystery.

I thought about how a woman had brought me into the life I had known. Now two of them were ushering me into another. It seemed oddly fitting.

What was new was that a different inheritance had been set forth for us. It wasn't my genes mixed with my wife's. It was now how these two nude women had instigated what we would become. No longer would my wife's genes mixed with mine guide our legacy; it was up to the combination of these women, the woods and the transformation currently occurring in my family.

"We may take some bark and sap from you for our own purposes; I hope that's ok. Beyond that, you will be cared for by us and these beautiful woods, I promise. Trees can live a long time, almost certainly longer than us," one said. I could clearly see that there was no maliciousness behind these women; while they did need us for their purposes I could clearly see a hope of mutualism in them. Possibly even a hope that what became of us might benefit others beyond those who were currently standing here.

"It's time for us to finish our part. Now take what's already inside of you and use it to grow beautifully. We can't wait to see what you all become," the other finished.

And now these two naked cousins begin their final incantation as roots spring forth from my bare feet. I look over to see that the transformation is also happening to my wife, daughter, and to my son. What becomes of us will not be consciously known to us, at least in the way we conceptualize thought. There's just no possibility that the loving ways I've known my family these past few weeks wouldn't play a part.

*****

People often talk of four abnormal trees in some woods up north. The trees seem almost inverted, with what appear to be roots at the top, reaching toward the sky. However their branches and trunks have grown into one another in such a way that challenges any purely vertical description.

There have been claims that the trees move but none have never been definitively proven.

Additionally, unusual vegetation has formed nearby, along with reports of unconventional relationships too, in many senses.

A few scientifically minded people took samples from these trees for further analysis but could never produce any useful findings with their methods.

Those who stay there for greater investigation often end up disappearing without a trace.

However, people who simply come to admire these trees seem to depart unharmed, perhaps having grown in their own way afterwards.

*****

I hope you enjoyed reading this story. I'm thinking of writing a full blown erotic horror novel in a similar vein so any constructive feedback is appreciated. It's kind of a bother and a bummer when one gets nonconstructive criticism, unless you're on the alpha male trip. Then go right ahead because it's hilarious.