Daddy Turns Me into a Mother for Mother’s Day

I came home from college expecting bad coffee and awkward small talk. What I got instead? My Daddy breeding me every chance he gets.

My dad is hotter than ever, and one fake tool emergency later, I’m bent over the workbench losing my virginity, my sanity, and every shred of decency I possessed. Now I’m leaking through Mother’s Day brunch and getting railed in the garden shed.

Because apparently, I’m not just his daughter anymore. I’m his personal breeding project.

Filthy, funny, and full of cream pies, this short story is for anyone who wants their taboo with extra teasing, extra heat, and a very full womb. No pull-out. No regrets. Just one very obsessed Daddy making sure his daughter celebrates Mother’s Day the messy way.

Word count: 5700. All characters are 18+
The cover picture is 100% created with AI.

Excerpt

I let myself into the house, toss my bag in the hallway, and immediately start daydreaming about f*cking him. I definitely need my head examined. I can’t f*ck my own father.

My pu$$y clenches and my entire body buzzes like it disagrees with me. This is what I get for being a twenty-year-old virgin. My body is protesting and wants every c*ck now. I peek through the blinds like a total creep. He’s still out there. Raking. Sweating. Oblivious to the fact that his daughter is about five seconds away from baking him a thank-you-for-your-service pie with her womb.

Okay. I’m being dramatic. But also, I’m not. Because this break is already a disaster. Three whole weeks at home without any of my friends. I came back because it’s Mother’s Day weekend. But the timing sucks. There’s end-of-the-year parties I wanted to go to, and I recently dumped my first boyfriend. He’s now dating someone who looks like she drinks her own perfume. Then at the last minute, my mom said she was going on a weekend trip with her boyfriend, and she won’t be back until tomorrow’s brunch.

So yeah, I’ve been left alone… with my dad next door. What happens next is not a decision so much as a deeply slutty instinct.

I throw on a tight little crop top that screams Daddy Issues and decide to pretend I need help with something in the garage. Classic bait. I’m not even sure what I’m going to ask him for. A ladder? A strong pair of arms? His seed?

Too much? Yeah. But also, not enough. Ever since my boyfriend broke up with me because I wouldn’t sleep with him, I’ve felt a need to lose my virginity to the first guy who turns me on. I didn’t expect it to be my father, but I’m so horny right now, I’m in the mood to make some bad life decisions.

I open the automatic garage door and immediately regret it. The garage smells like dust and man. Which is to say —heaven. Leather, cedar, faint gas fumes. It’s like testosterone colonized this whole space and decided to taunt me with it.

My dad glances over from his yard and sees me standing there like a dumbass. I wave, awkward and too bouncy, knowing my boobs nearly hop out of my crop top.

“Hey!” I call out, voice way too high-pitched to be casual. “Do you have a… wrench? Or a hammer? I—something fell off my car?”

Nailed it.

He lifts one eyebrow, then drops the rake before wiping his hands on his jeans and strolls over.

His jeans, by the way? Worn in all the right places. Thighs straining against denim that’s seen better days. That easy, dominant stride like he’s used to being obeyed. My mouth goes dry.

“Nice to see you again, Addison. What fell off?” he asks, voice deep enough to rumble between my legs.

Me. I’m the thing that fell off. Off the rails. Off sanity. Off my self-respect.

“Umm. Something… under. I think. Maybe.” I shrug and lean against the workbench like I’m trying to look chill. Instead, I just knock over a can of WD-40 and nearly eat shit. He catches me before I faceplant, one hand on my waist, the other steadying my elbow like it’s no big deal.

It is a big deal. His hands are huge. And warm. And strong. I look up… and up… and up. Damn my father is tall. His thumb is still pressed into my waist, heat seeping through the thin fabric of my top. I might actually spontaneously combust.

Without thinking I lean into him and brush my br3asts against his chest.

He sucks in a breath and tilts his head slightly, eyes dark as espresso. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but whatever game you’re playing, sweetheart, it’s not going to work on me.”

Oh God.

“You think I’m playing a game?” I blink up at him, all fake innocence and accidental cleavage.

He chuckles. “Babygirl, I know you are. You’re my daughter and you’re brushing your t*ts against me like you think I’m going to touch them.”

“I just needed a tool.” Suddenly, I imagine my hands on his c*ck and my n*pples harden.

“Uh huh, and that’s why you look like you’re about ready to grab mine.”

How did he know? I’m now w*t enough to need a damn mop, and even more determined to f*ck my father.