Disaster on Station 12 Ch. 2

The company had been good enough to arrange a place for us to stay, since our home had been destroyed along with the rest of Station 12. The doctors thought it would be too traumatic for her if she had to go live in another space condo, so they found us a place on Earth where we could take Lorraine. Of course, Earth real estate is very expensive, and the entire planet now is basically one large tourist attraction. So it was only fitting that they gave us both an unlimited leave of absence and put us up in a nice Caribbean resort.

At the hospital, it took some explaining to help my wife, unfamiliar with her new body, to even begin to come to terms with the transformation she had made. But in only a few days she was responsive and cheerful, though she kept noting aloud how "surreal" everything seemed. For my part, it was almost a full day before I even noticed that she was shorter than she had been, and how that must make the world seem slightly oversized to her. There were some adjustments to be made but, finally, after determining that there was no longer anything medically wrong with her our daughter Lissette and I took Lorraine to our new home.

The company was clearly trying to avoid a lawsuit, that much was obvious. Everything was taken care of, and the place was really first class. I was surprised to discover that we were living amongst the vacationing rich and famous. For a guy who was used to pulling overtime, all the sun, service, and sightings, when added to the fact that I felt constantly nervous now around Lorraine, made the experience surreal for me as well. Imagine how it must have been for my wife.

By the second day there, things started to get a little better. I really have Lissette to thank for that. She broke the tension by noting that she and Lorraine were now the same size, and could share clothes. They spent the rest of the morning laughing and trying them on. For me, it was amazing hearing my wife laughing like a young girl again, so much like I remembered, but now infused with a more knowing, worldly quality. I was amazed by the sound. We had a nice lunch, and that afternoon I went to meet with our lawyer… because nice hotel or not, the company was going to get it's ass sued off.

I came back from the meeting tense and on edge. While the company execs had been busy making a show of kissing our asses, the company lawyers were already quietly taking steps to cut their losses. As the sole "survivor", if you could even call her that, of the Station 12 disaster my wife had their lawyer's full attention. My lawyers were sharp though, and smelling money I am sure, had already gotten themselves a private detective. The detective had found what they were up to, and it wasn't good. They were going to try to stick us with the medical bills, everything.

I guess I wasn't prepared for the fact that, body of a young girl or not, Lorraine knew me well, and she instantly picked up on my mood. The night was difficult as a result. Plus, I had felt odd, like some kind of pervert sleeping beside her the night before. Not knowing what to do, I let myself fall asleep on the couch in front of the TV.

The next day it was like someone dropped a bomb on poor Lorraine, and unfortunately I knew it was me. She was a mess, crying, and wouldn't speak to me. Once again, it was Lissette to the rescue.

"We in Jamaica, Mom," Lissette said, pronouncing mom more like "maam". "We should go to the beach!"

My wife complained she didn't have a suit but Lissette said it was OK, they could go shopping. Lorraine seemed to like that idea, and off the two of them went, giving me the chance to relax.

The stress, or the bamboo couch, must've gotten to me, I'm not sure which, but when I laid down for a quick second on the bed I fell immediately asleep. The morning slipped away, and next thing I knew my watch was buzzing my arm.

"Yes," I said groggily, tapping the audio answer only button since I was sure I looked like hell, "what?"

"We are at the beach, Daddy," my daughter said, "you should definitely get down here. Buy a suit in the lobby shop and meet us down here, ok?"

"Ok," I said, and dropped the connection.

I was on my way to the spot on the beach they had described when I stopped cold. There, a few meters ahead of me, was my daughter talking to some boys her age – topless! My jaw dropped so far I found out what the sand in Jamaica tastes like. I had never seen Lissette's bare tits before, having made a point of respecting her modesty. But there they were, high riding, firm, and perfect. They were topped off with little pink nips that reminded me of the color of bubble gum. Somehow seeing her topless made me check the rest of her out too, and man, she was gorgeous. What a body!

Luckily for me I got my tongue back in my mouth before anyone noticed me, and walked up smiling as though nothing was wrong. When the guys noticed me coming they all changed their posture a little, something I remember doing around Lorraine's father years before. That tipped Lissette off, and she turned her head and saw me. She broke into a grin, and then into a run, and for a half second I got to see how those bare tits look when they bounce. Then, she was in my arms.

"Daddy!" she squealed, "isn't it just beautiful out here? I love it!"

"It's great," I told her, trying not to let her see that I was panicking because I felt my cock responding slightly to her presence in my arms. Jesus Christ, I thought. What the fuck is wrong with me? I can't sleep, JUST sleep, with my own wife because she has a body like this all of a sudden, and yet here I am nearly creaming my jeans because I saw my daughter practically naked. I tried to shake it off, and gestured at the young men ogling my daughter's tits. "Who are these guys?"

"Just some guys," she shrugged, pausing to tell them she had to go before she pulled me off in the other direction.

"Now, Dad," she said, suddenly turning serious, "Mom's at the bar waiting for us. You should see her, she looks fabulous, in fact I'm so jealous of her new body." I found that hard to believe. "Wait," she said then, as if reading my thoughts, "you'll see!"

I had already seen WAY more than I expected, and I told my daughter so, admonishing her for being so shameless in front of me.

"Oh," she said with another shrug, "when in Rome, do as the Roman's do. When in Jamaica, do as the other tourists do, right? Besides, this is really cool, I've never felt so free… plus there's all these guys around, and they DO look, but it's normal so they don't stare. It's really fun!"

"If you say so. But I am your Father, you know. I'm not really supposed to see you that way." That sounded wrong, too harsh. I didn't want her to feel ashamed of her body or that I was, I just didn't want her to guess how hot she'd made me. So I softened it a little with some humor. "Besides, I'm old. The least you could have done was warn me – I could have had a heart attack!"

"Oh, Daddy," she said theatrically, playfully bumping me with her hip. But I noticed she smiled, and then I noticed the way her tits jiggled when she bumped into me. It was hypnotic.

Suddenly she took a few quick steps ahead of me and turned to face me, putting her small hand on my chest to stop me. "I get it Dad, it's cool. I mean, I guess I shoulda thought of how you would feel about seeing me like this, but to be honest I was so excited to have the chance to walk around like this in public that it just never occurred to me. Actually, I'm surprised… I don't feel awkward or funny at all, not even with you seeing me… and I guess that this thong bottom is small enough that I may as well be nude… I hope you aren't too shocked." Then she seemed thoughtful for a second, and finished by saying, "but since you have seen me, like this, I… no, it's stupid."

"What, honey," I asked, my fatherly instincts to answer her questions kicking in.

"Well, I guess, I'm curious to know… what you think. Of my body I mean, since you've seen it and all." Now she was blushing.

"Umm, err," damn, I thought, is the sun always this hot in Jamaica, although my sudden sweating wasn't really because of the sun. "Well, yeah. It's nice."

"JESUS, Dad!" She laughed, shaking her head, "you've got a way with women. Tell you what, next time a naked, or close to naked woman asks you how she looks, tell her she looks hot for crying out loud."

Did you ever say exactly what you were thinking, when it was a way, WAY out of line thing to say, but you just couldn't help it? Like it just popped out? And then, once you got started it seemed like some kind of blessed release, right? Like someone let the pressure off, and now you just can't stop. I have, and here's what I said, "OK, dammit, to be honest, if you weren't my daughter, and if I were 20 years younger… ah the hell with that, I don't care if I am too old for you! If you weren't my daughter, looking like, like… THAT… Jesus Christ! I'd spend all afternoon, and all night buying you drinks, telling you jokes, and trying to turn you on so I could take you to that hotel room and fuck you harder than ever in your young life… all night, until I saw what the first light of morning looked like shining off your sweaty, heaving breasts."

We stood silent, both of us shocked at my words. I think I was even more shocked than she was, but it was a close call. I watched her skin flush, her eyes glaze over, her nipples harden, her legs move a little closer, being an old pick-up artist (before I was married, anyhow) I just couldn't help it. I had trained myself to notice these little hints women give off long, long ago. And suddenly I realized that my own daughter wanted me. Somewhere in the back of my mind I thought about the time when I was a teen, when my older sister had taught me how to kiss, and how to seize that opportunity. I hadn't felt weird about kissing her because she was related at all, only very excited to have the chance. The memory seemed very real. Too real.

I was kissing Lissette! Her breasts were bare and pressing to my chest, her nipples like little needles pushed right into the nerve. Unconsciously, my hands had made their way to her ass, and as I squeezed she seemed to delight in it. Slowly, I took a hand up to touch her breast, which was amazing. My God, what a wonderful sensation, what a - what a terrible revelation!

I gasped and pushed her away, saying something like "we can't" or "I can't", I don't remember. Her head dropped to rest against my chest, as we both stood gasping for breath. She said something like, "I know" or "I know, Daddy". I whispered to her that it was ok, that I was sorry. She said it wasn't my fault. She seemed desperate to change the subject, so she took me by the hand and pulled me up the ramp.

Off we went to see my wife.