*Author's Note: I like to experiment with different types of stories, so this one will be much different from the others on my site, which mostly deal with "true love" as well as incest. This is story is part incest, part psycho-thriller and part cheating spouse. If neither of these are your cup of tea, please leave now. Otherwise, sit back, relax and enjoy.
Addendum to editors: No sexual activity occurs with any character that is under eighteen. All characters who engage in erotic behavior are legal adults.
-Version edit: 1.1-
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The day that my daughter was born was the happiest day of my life. My wife Eileen and I had been hoping for a child for years, and the day she announced that she was pregnant, I ran through our entire neighborhood screaming "I'm gonna be a Daddy!" at the top of my lungs. That little escapade embarrassed the hell out of Eileen, but I came home and immediately fucked her brains out, so she forgave me pretty quickly.
We settled rapidly into the groove of impending parenthood, becoming more excited as we watched her belly grow day-by-day. Of course, Eileen went through the typical mood swings and physical changes that came along with child-bearing, but I was patient, loving and understanding. My baby was giving me a baby . . . and there was nothing that could break my jubilance about that!
My daughter was born on July 9th, during the biggest heat wave of the year. Our apartment didn't have working air-conditioning, and I complained to the super about it constantly, worried about my wife and unborn daughter's health—even doubly so after she went into labor. For the next eleven hours, I was beside myself, worrying if suffering through the heat had induced my wife's labor and whether or not that would affect her health or the baby's. The hospital staff did their best to calm me down, and I knew they were doing all they could, but I'm a very excitable person—especially when it comes to my family.
Fortunately, after hours and hours of pure torture, my wife finally gave birth to a beautiful and healthy baby girl. We had already picked out a name for her: Rhonda, and we took turns holding her the entire night.
We were able to afford a bigger home, and things were going remarkably well at first. Rhonda was a relatively normal baby and infant, although our first sign that she was more than she appeared was when she began crawling in four months. Eileen and I were amazed, and even more so when Rhonda was outright able to RUN at six months. Not walk. Run. Eileen and I were excited that we had given birth to a real prodigy—a wonder child that would surpass all of our greatest hopes and dreams.
If only we knew.
Rhonda soaked up knowledge like a sponge. Eileen and I tried homeschooling until she was six, but she quickly outpaced our combined education. She was doing trigonometry by that age, and the most math I could remember was algebra. I was exceptionally good at English and Literature though, so I would continue to read with my daughter, and we used to talk afterwards and compare literary critiques. Rhonda's acumen was amazing, and she was able to pick up on greater subtext and abstruse themes than I could ever dream of doing. Eventually, rather than teaching her, she was beginning to teach ME, and I was captivated at learning what insight my little girl had to share.
However, things weren't all good. A few years after her birth, Eileen began to distance herself a bit from Rhonda, and she used to stand by and just watch our little girl play on her own or with other children, such as when her cousin Teddy came to play. Teddy was three years older than Rhonda and had a reputation for being something of a bully. I didn't like the kid, but he was my brother-in-law's brat, and Eileen was close to her big brother, so I really couldn't object. Besides, they were just kids: it's not like they could really get into trouble.
Like I said, though, Eileen began to distance herself from our daughter and secretly observed her whenever Rhonda didn't know she was around. At first, I thought it was some bizarre motherly instinct, but eventually, I began to suspect different. It seemed like Eileen sensed that there was something
wrong
with our daughter, and she wanted to keep her distance. Every once in a while, I tried talking her out of her behavior, and she would make an earnest effort to get closer to Rhonda, but it would always fail a few weeks, days, or even hours later.
Don't get me wrong—Eileen was a wonderful wife and mother in every other respect, but her detachment to Rhonda just didn't feel healthy. Rhonda seemed pretty happy, though, so I decided not to press the issue. I just doubled my efforts and decided to spoil my little girl rotten. I relished the time Rhonda and I spent together reading, watching movies, and discussing them afterwards. And I mean real, in-depth adult conversations. Sometimes, it felt a little weird that my young daughter seemed to be talking down to
me,
having to reword some things so that I could understand it, but I was immensely proud of her, so it didn't matter.
******
Things were pretty good for awhile. I bought Rhonda all the books she wanted, and she finished all of them immediately. She would always come to me immediately after, saying that they had left her with even more questions. I sat down and read them with her, and found myself suddenly unable to really keep up with my little girl's conversations anymore. But since she loved to talk to me, that didn't matter.
But Eileen was less than thrilled.
"I think this is getting worse, David," she told me as she paced back and forth, biting her nails. "This . . . this isn't normal for a child to be acting like. She's not supposed to be reading those types of books like what you bought her."
Again, I found myself trying to be the voice of reason. "Well, Rhonda ISN'T normal," I corrected her, "she's an unbelievably gifted child, and I think the longer we try and hold her back, the more confused and miserable we're going to make her."
"Then what do we do, David? I can't keep up with her anymore, and even you're starting to struggle. I think it's time we considered other options. Maybe we should start seriously discussing hiring a tutor for Rhonda . . ."
I gave in and we stretched our financial resources to look into getting Rhonda some mentorship. Eventually, we found a professor from a local college who was used to dealing with exceptionally gifted children. With his help, Rhonda gained her high school diploma at seven and completed a full college curriculum by the time she was nine. My pride in her only grew as I watched my little prodigy develop, and Rhonda beamed at me whenever she saw the love in my eyes. During this time, however, I got laid off from my job and our family began hitting horrible financial straits. The only thing that kept us going was all of the money we got from schools looking to develop our daughter's 'gifts', but I felt really guilty exploiting my only child for my own gain.
One day, when Rhonda was eleven, Teddy was sleeping over at our home again. Eileen and I left he and Rhonda to play together while we sat down and discussed our current economic crisis. Eventually, we heard a scream in the living room and came to check. When we got there, Teddy was laying in the living room, trembling and holding his stomach while Rhonda was calmly sitting a chair, playing with her Game Boy. There was a lot of blood on the carpet underneath Teddy, and his shorts were pulled around his ankles. Eileen ran to call 911 while I went to Rhonda and asked what happened.
"Teddy and I were playing," she told me very calmly.
"Playing!? Ronnie, what the hell kind of playing ends with a boy's stomach bleeding?"
"Teddy said he wanted to 'play doctor'. At first I didn't want to, but he kept pushing, so I just tried to do a little surgery. But all of a sudden, he started crying that it hurt, and he didn't want to play anymore. I don't think he meant the same thing I thought he did, Daddy."
I couldn't believe that Rhonda was reacting with such cold indifference. She had nearly cut her cousin's belly open, and didn't seem to give two shits about it. It was at that moment that I finally began to think that Eileen was right about Rhonda and that there really was something wrong with her. But I felt conflicted—just what had Teddy, that little punk, been trying to do? Upset, I left the room and sat with Eileen as we waited for the paramedics.
Eileen rode with them after they arrived and told her brother she'd meet him in the Emergency Room. In the meantime, I stayed home with Rhonda and wondered just what the hell I was going to do about this mess.
"What's wrong, Daddy? Did I do something I shouldn't have?" she asked me with a very worried tone.
How the hell was I supposed to answer that? Frankly, I felt that the little punk got just a bit of pathos for whatever he had tried to do with his cousin. Of course, she always could have just yelled for Eileen and I, but would we even have believed her? If she'd screamed, it would have been her word against Teddy's, and Eileen had a habit giving that little snot too much due because he was her brother's kid.
What bothered me most, however, was the twinkle in Rhonda's eye. She didn't even seem to care that she had just effectively MAIMED a young boy.
Rhonda could see my apprehension, and she stepped closer . . . tears beginning to well in her eyes. "Did I do something wrong, Daddy?"
"We'll talk later, Ronnie," I told her. "Daddy needs to think right now."
"Why don't we think together, Daddy?" she asked me. "All my fancy certificates say I'm good at it."
"No, not this time, Ronnie," I argued. "Just go to bed and sleep."
Her eyes narrowed, and she stared right at me and declared: "No."
I shot disbelief right back at her. "What did you say?"
"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's wrong," she told me. "It's not fair!"
