“A lie!” she exclaimed proudly, “I just told a lie! Maybe I am evil!” “Passion taught you the word ‘hereditary,’ but she didn’t teach you about lying?” I asked. “Don’t be too hard on her,” my daughter insisted in almost a scolding tone, “she only had about thirty seconds to teach me language, motor skills, concepts of life and death, math, physics, biology, and history before you blew her up.” “Oh.” I replied, dropping my head, homemade busty my emotions a dumbing mixture of confusion, grief and shame. “Hey,” my daughter smiled, putting a hand on my Hardcore knee, “she also taught me about how great a person you are; how kind and loving you can be, how gentle and patient you are.” “I’m none of those things.” I whispered, a tear rolling down my cheek. “You are all of those things,” my daughter grinned brightly, “and I love you, Dad.” My daughter crawled forward, turned around, and sat in my lap. She snuggled into my abdomen, made a pillow of my breasts, and then folded my arms around her. I sat stupidly for a moment, terrified and confused, ashamed and bewildered. Some primal, instinctual feeling began to swell within me. It was a warmth in my chest, a thrumming in my heart, a softness in my troubled mind. This was my child; I knew it without having to know, felt it without having to feel. Maternal and paternal instincts kicked-in, and I pulled my daughter into a protective, loving embrace, placed my lips on her crown and kissed her. She was Passion’s gift to me, the surprise she no-doubt thought would cement a love she’d engineered, but a love I had felt nonetheless. It made the guilt almost unbearable, but the warmth of my daughter’s form quelled the anguish. I made a silent promise to the woman I’d murdered; no harm would come to our daughter. I swore it on what was left of my soul. “The last thing Amateur Porn Mother told me,” my daughter said softly, “was to help you find someone called ‘The Life Giver.’ She said The Life Giver could rebuild the womb and save Arbortus.” “The Life Giver is a Creator,” I said, resting my chin on my daughter’s head, “like me. No one knows who, what or where teen he or she is.” “He’s a human boy,” my daughter said, “his name’s Bradley, or Bradford, or something. As if to support the statement, a tentacle fell from the ceiling to the floor and landed with a crunch. "Sounds like you're talking about spirit names, you know, the names our soul had before we teen were born. “That’s reason like fifty-seven why firing Phil was stupid. She's been at volleyball games.” “Yes,” she groaned. Only pictures that he had taken of their encounter. You feel Hardcore so amazing in me. You're thick and throbbing. I didn’t care; in fact I was enjoying it. It wasn't homemade as easy as he expected it to be, and he was deeply conflicted in trying to handle all of what was happening to him. Interestingly, I was going to include a small but complete bathroom off one of the bedrooms that any residents with me could Amateur Porn compete to have for their own habitation. "Ladies first," I held up a corner of the sleeping bag. My body bucked, my tits jiggling. I sucked my cheeks together and slowly moved busty my head up and down his shaft. All the goings on had been closely observed by Nita and Sarah. In fact the teacher that I spoke to told me that it would be good for the students to draw a woman that doesn’t have massive breasts. Just wet your diaper and your brother can change you.” June just looked up at this young boy and she said to him. The stars seemed aligned for a wonderful future. Who could've thought he'd become such a good mate of mine when I lend him my dictionary? Then the fork stabs into the salad bowl.