Note from the weird fucker what wrote these words'o wisdom:
The town of Birchbark Falls has many a tale to tell. They're the tales 'bout a Godly sort of people, raisin' theirs in a way that's right n' proper. This here tale's what I'm fixin' to call the Standard Edition of this asstastic fantasy of familial bumfuckery.
If'n yer the kind that fancies takin' a longer journey, delvin' deep into the slippery wet hole of familial breedin', well, ya' might consider the Author's Definitive Edition, Reared in Birchbark Falls: Breeders Edition. The Breeder's Edition contains three additional chapters dedicated to the incestuous insemination of Allison.
Not yer thing? S'alright. Ain't nobody forcin' ya' to take a helpin' o' fatherly baby batter in yer cunny. You just get yer pleasures with this bit of daughterly butt humpin'.
Chapter One: The Town of Birchbark Falls
The town of Birchbark Falls was a small dot on the map, far from the eyes of big city folk, a sleepy place of nigh 1,000 souls. It was the kind of town where the birth of Farmer Pembroke’s latest calf was the news of the week, and a town in which the two churches loved and hated one another in equal measure. Birchbark Falls was a conservative place, populated by a god-fearing sort of people that flew the American flag with pride, spoke of the President with reverence, and said the name ‘New York’ as though it were the pinnacle of the civilized, modern world.
In the town of Birchbark Falls, lived Allison and her father. Allison’s Father, Jim, was a helpful sort of man, the kind of man that the neighbors could count on to fix a faulty dryer, lend a tool without a question, and to never ask for anything in return. He was the hard-working sort of man that was quick to give the Widow Bess a ride into Main Street, or to drop a nickel into One-Legged Bill’s bucket on the corner, in exchange for nothing but a tune on his harmonica. Jim would do these things, because that was what neighbors did, by God, and not a soul in the town would ever say that old Jim couldn’t be counted on to do right by his neighbors.
If there was one true worry in his life, for Jim it was his daughter, Allison. Jim had kept this worry in his heart for many a year, for he knew that one day, someone was going to put their cock in his daughter’s ass. That time was fast approaching too, Jim knew with certainty. Allison was eighteen years old, now, and a right beauty that took after his late Sarah (God rest her soul) in every way.
Those ways included Allison’s jiggling, enticing, perfectly formed behind. His Sarah had had such an ass. Sarah though (God rest her soul) was no longer here to rear her daughter properly in the ways of bumfuckery, the ways in which a man had an expectation of. Many a night had Jim sought the comfort and warmth of his late wife’s plump and welcoming backdoor and it was a certainty, Jim knew, that a good, proper rogering of the woman’s asshole had kept him on the straight and narrow for all the years The Lord had blessed them with.
Jim dreaded the day that Allison would, herself, take a husband, only for his daughter to find that she could not meet with the man’s expectations that her butt be a ready receptacle for his penis. Worse yet, he imagined his daughter taking a trip into the big city, as youngsters were wont to do, only to end up getting her wires crossed about the joys of a good butt-loving, because some uncaring city boy assaulted her virginal butthole before it was good and ready for proper use.
So it was, with a sense of duty, that Jim set about taking the task of adjusting Allison’s ass upon himself. And, with the Lord’s help, he’d have her anus ready for proper fucking by the time she was wed to the right man.
Chapter Two: A Little Swat Ne'r Hurt No One
Allison was expected home directly after school, where she was to do her schoolwork first, before anything else. A dutiful girl, Allison followed her father’s rules to the letter, because that was what good daughters did. In the town of Birchbark Falls, a man’s house was his dominion. So, The Lord had decreed, and so it was.
Allison’s father, Jim, came in through the back door of the house and washed grease from his hands. He dried them, pulled a chair from the table and sat. Each time he sat at the table Jim ran his hands lovingly over the wood. He’d crafted it himself, as with most of the furniture in the house. His work was all over the town, too. If there was wood that needed carving or carpentry that needed done, Jim was the man the town came to.
“How’s that homework comin’, darlin’?” Jim asked.
“Almost finished, dad,” she said, scribbling on her paper, giving the eraser the occasional, adorable chew.
“You come see me in the front room once you’re done. We got some things that it’s about time to talk about.”
Jim stood up, ruffled the girl’s hair and took a seat in the front room, taking up his whittling knife and block of wood. It wasn’t long before Allison joined him. Allison wore a cute summer dress, picked up for her by her father on one of his trips into the city. The pretty dress was dotted with cornflower blue petals, in the same color as Allison’s eyes, and the honey yellow of the fabric was a perfect match for her hair. The dress, though, was a couple of years old, and though the girl loved it, she’d gained the gorgeous curves of a woman and pushed the fit of the cloth to its limits.
Jim could see this in the way that her breasts strained the neckline, the swells of her cleavage spilling temptingly over the top. Her legs were longer, too, leaving the once-modest dress invitingly short, enticing a man to dream of the treasures hidden beneath. Allison sat next to her father.
“Honey,” he said, setting his tools aside, “You’re of an age where it’s time that you should get to know the facts of being a woman.”
“Dad,” Allison groaned, “they tell us about birds and bees in school. You ain’t gotta go all into that.”
Jim nodded and said, “There’s only so much a public schoolhouse can tell you, girl. What with all the separation of church n’ state. Fact is that there’s a good deal they ain’t gonna teach you. Your dear mother, God rest her soul, woulda been the one to, rightly, instruct you. Seein’ as The Lord saw fit to call ‘er home, though, that task is up to me.”
Allison blushed. She did not want to have a talk about this with her father. She was dutiful, though, and her father’s word was second only to The Lord’s.