[Flash Forward] Sarah's darkest timeline

That day was a turning point for you, and for your entire family. You and Dad staggered home, leaning on each other for support. You were furious with him, but he was in a daze after his Zanalfil-fueled rampage, you weren't much steadier. Neither of you had the energy for a confrontation...

...But you sure got one, after you arrived home to an angry and confused Mom. After a few minutes of lecturing, she switched over to Dad, who rallied to defend himself.

"We saw you with Peter, just before... When we were leaving," he snapped. "What were you doing with our son?"

Things got a little more complicated after that, and it wasn't long before everyone ran out of steam. After a quick shower and an uncomfortable visit from Peter, you finally got some well-earned sleep.

But from that day forward, something about your family was broken. The old social norms, the old taboos... They had been degrading since the H1W1 pandemic began, but for you four, that day must have pushed them over the edge. It revealed that all of your notions of equality and respect were just a mirage; there was no longer any substance behind them. Not while you and Mom needed semen to survive... Not while Peter and Dad had the power to save you, and needed to be aroused to do so.

Peter's attitude towards you was already pretty bad, but his behavior has gotten even worse since he realized that Mom and Dad wouldn't be imposing any real consequences. At night, when you're at home and Dad's too tired to "help" you, your brother takes over. You usually end up sleeping in the same bed: it's easier than being disturbed whenever Peter feels the need to empty his balls. He abuses all three of your holes to his heart's content, and doesn't take much care to feed you the medicine you so sorely need.

Luckily, he prefers blowjobs when he's halfway to sleep or just waking up. Many of your nighttime doses are the result of your half-awake brother grabbing you by the head, pushing you toward his crotch, and letting you go to town. If you're foolish enough to refuse (or even hesitate) he tends to wake up fully, ready to pound your ass, pussy, or throat until you're a trembling mess.

Dad's always been **** than Peter, and you suppose he still is... But the way he treats you is no less degrading. It seems like every week he's ranting about "drastic measures" he needs to impose on you and Mom, to make sure you get all the jizz you need... And every single one robs you of more independence, modesty, and dignity.

A few choice examples from the "Sarah humiliation timeline," in chronological order:

• Dad creates a social media account on your behalf. He says it's supposed to "drum up interest" in your body and sexual prowess, resulting in more donations... But you suspect it started as a way for him to show off to his friends and coworkers. They were your first followers, but now you have a couple thousand, most of which don't even live in your city; they clearly won't be feeding you any medicine. The account takes full advantage of the more-relaxed content policies that are becoming common post-H1W1. You're either nude or wearing lingerie in all of the posts, and many of them involve precious, wasted jizz sliding down your body. When Dad needs to punish you or Peter's feeling particularly mean-spirited, they read to you from the comments sections. There are thousands of gross pickup lines to choose from, but the worst one from today reads: "You're my favorite slut to look at while my GF blows me <3 Wanna come take her place, maybe steal a couple doses while she licks my balls?"
• A new house rule is devised, in order to stop you from "talking back" or "acting ungrateful." If you refuse an order from Dad or Peter, or if you're doing a bad job making them cum, they reserve the right to blow their load on your body, the floor, or pretty much anywhere that it isn't desperately needed. Mom is usually there to lick up the mess, so it's not a total waste, but it's still heartbreaking to watch the seed you worked so hard for spraying into the air, rather than down your throat. The worst part is, the rule works... You've never been more obedient or better in bed. There's always anger and sadness hiding behind your fake smile and gyrating hips, but you do what you have to in order to survive.

• When the social media empire dad's constructed on your behalf begins to slow down, he takes another drastic measure: breast implants. It's still technically your decision (society hasn't fallen that far yet), and Dad pretends to care about your opinion, but the subtext is clear. Either you can get ridiculous-looking fake tits, or you can find a new place to live and two new guys who are willing to feed you their jizz every day. First you beg and plead, and when that doesn't work you put out feelers looking for a new home... But as far as young, cum-starved women are concerned, the demand outweighs the supply. Eventually you give up, and a few weeks later you walk out of the hospital with brand new funbags. At least Dad has the decency to hold off on titfucking you until they've healed, and even stops Peter from doing the same... What a gentleman. The plan saves your internet "career," at the cost of making everyone in your life (male or female) look at you differently.

• Now that your breasts are closer to watermelons than grapefruits, most of your favorite outfits no longer fit. In an astounding act of poor judgement, Dad puts Peter in charge of your new wardrobe... But you soon realize that it isn't poor judgement at all. With your pervert of a brother dressing you up in two-inch skirts, sling bikinis, and other degrading attire, Dad can ogle you like a piece of meat while pretending to care about your dignity. One minute he'll be telling Peter off for making you wear a thong to school, and the next he'll be pulling it aside to fuck you up the ass. After wasting a dose in your butt, he comes up with an excuse to to "let" you keep wearing the thong, and you're **** to feel his load running down your thighs as you hurry off to class.

• Speaking of "class," your difficult final year of high school soon comes to an end, and you're not sure what comes next. Mom wants you to go to college, and Dad agrees... But he doesn't think you're smart enough yet. He firmly advises you to take a gap year or two, during which you'll need to try twice as hard to drink more cum and raise your IQ. You immediately call that plan out for the selfish scheme that it is, and go to Mom for support... But she's just had a particularly dry week, which your father and brother spent focused on you and your new, obscene tits squeezed into equally-obscene outfits. Dad easily fools her with his "concerned father" act... He even seems to believe it himself, acting genuinely regretful even as he orders you to your knees. The next thing you know, the college application deadline has passed, and you're still nothing more than a live-in cumdump.

• As your social media following continues to grow, more gross internet strangers are propositioning you every day. One morning while you're titfucking Dad beneath the breakfast table, he casually brings up the topic of you dating some of those losers. "They all want to give you free medicine," he says, pushing your mouth down onto his cockhead before you can interrupt. "You can't afford to say no to that." But you do say no, at first... Until Dad puts Peter in charge of the project. He devises a new strategy: "I'm gonna start inviting these guys over to our house, and they're gonna use you. I'll tell Mom they're just my friends, and she'll totally believe me... She'll believe anything, these days. If you don't cooperate, I'll pick the most ugly, unpleasant, shitty human beings who ask for a turn with your body. But if you do what I say, you can pick which ones get invited. So c'mon, sis... Easy way, or hard way?" You pick the easy way, of course, and soon you're going on "dates" with two or three strangers a week. Months later, you learn that Peter is charging them a fee... Nothing huge, of course (hookers are cheap or free, nowadays), but you have plenty of internet fans who're itching to get into bed with you. Well, "bed" may not be the right word: half the time they fuck you while you're still in the restaurant, in their cars, or even in front of your parents.

• Despite Peter's best efforts and Dad's complete indifference, you manage to drink enough cum to gain a little bit of intelligence as the months go by. But even as you build up the IQ and willpower to escape your degrading lifestyle, there's one thing that makes you hesitate: Mom. While you were being transformed into a big-titted hooker, her fate was debatably worse. She's even more obedient, less independent, and more willing to go to any lengths to slurp down her husband and son's semen. God knows how Dad justifies sharing her with Peter to up her intake, while also depriving her of cum through tricks and half-baked promises... Just the other day, he watched passively as Peter fucked his own mother's pussy to completion on the kitchen floor. He didn't say a word, even when Mom questioned the wet feeling between her legs and Peter told her that he "really had to pee" and "couldn't hold it." You're not sure what part was worse: the fact that Mom believed him, or that she barely seemed disgusted at the fact that her son had (supposedly) used her as a toilet. Your fear of ending up like her wins out over your distaste for your current situation; you might have it bad, but at least you're still treated like a human being... Most of the time, anyway.

And that's where you stand today. It's been a couple years since the facade finally snapped, and things have only gotten worse... Worse for your so-called family, and worse for the H1W1-ravaged world. Just like so many other young women, you're **** to serve both strangers and the men who supposedly love you...

...No, that isn't fair. Dad still looks at you like a daughter, sometimes: usually it's in the moment after he's blown his wad, just before exhaustion sets in. He'll look guilty, give you a smile, pull out of whatever hole he's abusing... But then he'll slap you on the ass, or rub his cock across your face, or grope the new tits he **** upon you. He'll say something jovial like "just getting in the mood for round two," and then everything will snap back to normal. You'll go back to being a cum-dumpster, disgusted yet grateful for every life-giving load that ends up in your mouth.