Note, this story contains consensual incest, breeding/pregnancy, and a religious kink (Catholic flavoured specifically) so if that's not your thing, this is your warning. Enjoy :)
Rosemary, or Rose for short, had always been an introvert, ever since she was young. She preferred reading to sports, coffee shops over bars, and staying home to study over anything close to a party. It didn't help that she was a student at St. Mary's, a prestigious all-girl's Catholic school whose graduates were, more often than not, hand-picked for some of the best nunneries and colleges in the region. Not that she minded much, though; her late mother had always insisted that she be educated, and so she was brought up in a proper Catholic house. After her mother had passed suddenly when she was just ten, Rose's father Isaac threw himself into his work, and hired an au pair to continue rearing her. When she turned fourteen, she was shipped off to St. Mary's and hadn't seen her home, or her father, since.
Six long years later, and Rose had graduated with impressive grades, at the top of her class. She had a bright future ahead of her if she so wanted it. Her grades alone would land her a scholarship to any number of excellent academies, and her choice pool was doubled thanks to St. Mary's alumni connections. There was just one problem, though.
Rose had no desire whatsoever to pursue further education. In fact, she had gotten her fill of schooling at St. Mary's, and by the time she graduated, she knew exactly what she wanted her future to be. Of all of the many teachings she absorbed during her time in school, the story of Mary and her holy conception had stood out to her. An immaculate conception, she was untouched and pure, and yet full of life all the same. The plates and etchings of a heavily pregnant Mary that appeared in Rose's textbooks soon began to fascinate her, and she spent many hours poring over these images under the guise of "studying". The truth was, she began to obsess, and found herself burning with a desire
to befall the same fate. Though she never admitted it during confessions, she would pray to the Lord to visit her, as He had done to Mary, and make her pregnant as well. She desperately wanted to know the joys of motherhood, but like any dutiful Catholic she knew that sex was off of the table. Rose was a clever girl, though, and as her schooling finished and she began preparing to return home, a devious plan began to take shape in her mind.
"Daddy!" Rose squealed as she hopped out of the airport valet car and into the waiting arms of her father, Isaac. He wrapped her up in a bear hug and planted a loving kiss on the top of her head. He easily picked her up off of the ground, her petite feet dangling as she kicked her legs, laughing and smiling at her father.
"Rosie!" Isaac returned his daughter's energy, grinning wide and genuinely happy to have his baby home again. "It's so good to finally see you back again, sweetheart! I've missed you so much. How was your flight, angel?" He set her back down on the ground gently, and brought his hands to her shoulders, giving her a loving squeeze. She beamed up at him, her heart-shaped face wrinkled in a smile.
"Long and cramped, Daddy. I'd love a bath, honestly." She replied, bringing her fingers to her face to coyly tug on one of her curls. She may have been on the petite side, but standing next to her father made her look even smaller. Isaac was of the spry age of fifty, but you wouldn't know by looking at him. He kept in shape, his six-foot frame padded with practical muscles, giving him a strong but soft appearance. The only thing that gave away his age was his salt-and-peppered hair, and a slight gut from years of
lovingly-prepared homemade meals.
Rose, however, came up just at four foot ten, taking after her mother in both demeanor and proportion. She was sporty, just like her father, which gave her an athletic build on top of her naturally violin-shaped body. Her curly, golden-blonde hair came down just below her ribs.
"Sounds like a plan, sweetie. I'll bring in your bags, you go up and draw a bath while I get dinner figured out." Her father said, walking toward the cab to pay the driver and fetch her suitcases from the trunk. Rose thanked him, and began walking up the steps of their home. She had made sure to wear a short uniform skirt, and as she bounded up the steps quickly, she could have sworn she saw her father sneak a glance at her panties. She smiled to herself, praying that she was right and that this would work.
After her father brought up her bags and she unpacked some of her clothes and toiletries, Rose set about drawing a bath. She brought out her favorite floral soap and ran it beneath the warm water, frothing the surface and filling the bathroom with the delicate scent of lavender. It wafted out through her cracked bedroom door and into the hallway, catching Isaac's nose as he rounded the corner. He had just about finished bringing up all of her things, and was just dropping off the last of her bags when the
warm smell of flowers drifted over him. He was glad to see she had begun to settle in and was now taking a much-deserved bath. He had worried she might be hesitant to unwind here, since it had been so long ago since she'd last stayed at home, but he was pleased to hear the squeaky knobs on the bath being adjusted and the sounds of rippling water increase. He would be quick, just duck in and set her bags on the bed
while she was in the bathroom.
Isaac gently cracked her bedroom door and sidestepped inside as quietly as his socked feet would allow. He was graceful as he crossed the room, carefully placing his footfalls so as not to creak the wooden floorboards and startle his bathing daughter.
As he approached the bed and set down her last few bags, he noticed the clothes that Rose had come home in were in a crumpled pile on the floor. He smirked, just short of rolling his eyes.
Still just as messy as ever,
he thought, and glanced up at the bathroom doorway. His breath caught in his throat. Isaac had been so focused on watching his footing entering the room that he hadn't noticed the bathroom door was halfway ajar.
Where he was standing by her bed gave him an unobstructed view into his daughter's bathroom, where she sat unaware on the side of the bathtub.
Her honey-blonde hair ran wet down the length of her back, sticking to her glistening skin as she swept it around her neck to the front. Rose brought a delicate hand up to her left shoulder, gently soaping her skin and letting the suds run down her body, taking her sweet time in the steaming water. Her motions were achingly slow, almost
