Not quite the clean fix you were hoping for.

It's been a couple of days since the fierce 24 hours you put Isabella through. Your sleep cycles are more or less back to normal, and her body recovered nicely, at least in terms of muscle soreness. Of course, being sexually stimulated for an entire day was a bit much for a young adult, barely more than a virgin; she's been avoiding contact with you whenever you allow such distance, as little as you allow. Today, you manage to wake up before she does, and so she'll have no chance to slip away from you before you can give her a proper morning. You squeeze her naked form under the sheets and let your hands drift down to between her legs, where the slightest stubble greets you thornily. When at last your seed takes, you'd get to blame her irresponsible shaving habits... and from there, the rest of your twisted plan would unfold. But for now, it is a smooth belly beneath your arm. At the tips of your greedy digits, her pussy is just a bit damp, but it moistens as you slide your fingertips cautiously between her tight little lips. Your new daughter groans under your touch, and you seal her lips with your mouth as you continue fingering her. When her thighs clamp down on your hand, her cute little reaction when she realizes you're groping her in the waking world, you spring your offer. "Good morning, honey. Let's take care of feeding and cleaning you right now."

"Mmmmm... right here? In bed?" She sounds more than a bit alarmed.

"We can always shower later."

"I... I mean, can't we do the cleaning later, dad?" You **** yourself to keep the smile... but disappointment, even frustration, runs its course. Perhaps naively, you thought she'd be more sexually liberated right now, confusing all that stimulation for familial love and leaping onto your cock for every ounce of it she could milk from you... but she continues to grimace through breakfast and avoid your advances to help douche her. "I mean, we did that really... really deep cleansing only two days ago... that's... that's gotta count, right?"

"That was to make up for lost time... honey, why don't you like our cleanings?"

She fidgets as you continue to caress her sex, and now let your free hand knead her opposite breast. With your body scooped against hers and your cock resting against the crack of her ass, you're already halfway to coming already. "I... I don't... I know it's not like regular sex, dad, but it does seem just like it and I'm... I'm..."

"You're what, sweetie?"

"I'm a... a lesbian!" she finally exclaims, and starts to shudder as she weeps loudly in your arms. Stunned, you stop molesting her and just lay next to her, frozen and unsure as to how to react. You didn't know this... and of course you didn't. Did that idiot wife of yours even have an inkling about it? No boyfriends were allowed, and you always assumed that Isabella obeying so odious a command so naturally was naught but evidence of your wife's own manipulations of AGS... but now the truth was laid bare: Isabella never wanted the dick in the first place. "Do you..." She breaks the long silence first. "Do you... not love me... anymore...?"

"Honey, of course I love you!" You give her a comforting hug, withdrawing your hand from her crotch as you embrace her. "It's just that..." You hug her tighter as you rearrange your narrative. You can't break character, not yet, hopefully not ever. "Well, at least now we know why it's so hard for you to grow accustomed to this relationship so late... of course, even lesbians have fathers they love, and who love them back... and of course, lesbians need their cleaning and daily nutrition as much as any girls. Starting late as a lesbian is naturally going to make this harder for you... but I promise, being a lesbian is perfectly normal, baby."

"I just... I can't... I don't know why I don't feel the..." She sniffs as she continues to talk while crying. "I don't know what's wrong with me... I can't feel the love you told me I should feel... the love that should feel l-like sexual love, it's... I just don't..."

"Shhhh shh shh," you continue to comfort her, rubbing her stomach, smiling coyly as you remember what must be a growing zygote under your hand by now. "It might take us months, even years to fix the damage done by our isolation... but we'll work through it together, I promise. Come here, face me." She does so, turning in your grip until your cock slips between her shifting legs as she rises up along the bed to be at eye level with you. You lean forward and kiss her tenderly, letting your tongues and morning breaths mingle in that marital fashion that she would never know as anything but fatherly doting. "Remember when you came, honey? When I was eating out your little pussy?"

Her face knots as she looks away with something akin to shame. "I was... I was thinking about... someone..." Someone else. She doesn't say it, but she doesn't have to. Of course. She was imagining she was with a woman... that she was fucking someone else while she was fucking you...

... just like her mother.

"I understand." The words slip out of you like ice, and she looks back to you with wide eyes, alarmed at the malice heard. You clear your throat, and respond again, with that same warmth you've managed so far. "Of course I understand. If that's what you have to do to... get through this... then just go ahead and do that."

"But that's wrong! This is supposed to be father and daughter love, not... not that..."

Hmm. She's got a point there. "You're... you're right, sort of." Her eyes glisten as she searches for some hope in your words. "You shouldn't have to do that, but this is... an exceptional situation. But if you prefer, don't... and just try to grow accustomed to loving me." You put a hand on her face; it's so hot from the stress of crying. Your earlier jealousy and anger seems foolish as this confused young woman attempts to reconcile what she perceives, the world you created: somehow she finally found her father, and she can't love him the way you've told her she must. She accepts this without doubt, without hesitation... so of course she feels broken, flawed. You know you should feel bad about this...

"Now sit on my cock, and we'll work past this together." But you don't. She looks down between her legs, where your manhood is trapped between pressed thighs. She nearly slides onto you, whimpering all the while, until, for the first time in three weeks since the police officer came to report the accident that gave you this new lease on life... the doorbell rings.

In a panic, you send her off, at first to get dressed and then, as a more definite solution, to go get showered and then dressed instead. You remind her one last time about the terrible price she and anyone else would pay if she told anyone about your "family love". Now, you fear, is the test of your trap, of the fortitude of the walls of this fortress of sin you've erected around yourself. Once fully-clothed, you head downstairs while she nervously showers alone for the first time in days.