A tactical retreat

The feeling that settled over Sam could only be called existential dread. He continued to read and reread the email he had received, his mind using this new piece of information to complete the puzzle of where his sudden powers had come from. He had assumed that original email was nothing more than spam, but as crazy as it seemed, the timing of it all surely meant a connection.

But what could be done now?

He had tried to make a few further changes, to no avail. No sense of vertigo, no rewriting of the universe. And worst of all, the changes he had made were now permanent. His eyes traveled the hectic office. The large mass of Harriet was sitting at her desk, still looking out out that he had left before she could coax him back to her place. Lisa was still walking around with a tent in her work pants. Dylan was gracing Sam and Jerry with a big stupid grin every time they looked in his direction.

And worst of all...

Sam hadn't made any further changes to Vicky, but she was still there obsessed with marrying him and birthing his children. Worse, there was a very real chance she would commit **** to make those things happen. Suddenly he felt very uncomfortable being in the same building as the woman. He needed to escape, preferably without attracting too much attention.

"Hey buddy, what's going on?" Jerry's concerned voice cut through the turmoil of Sam's mind. "You look like you're having a stroke or something."

"Well," Sam swallowed nervously. "I can't uh...do any of this magic stuff anymore."

Confusion coloured Jerry's face. "I thought you could do anything?"

"I guess it was on a fucking time limit," Sam battled to contain his voice. "Now I'm stuck with everything," he gestured about, "like this..."

Then it occurred to him. Not all of his changes were problematic. He had wished for a better house, a more beautiful and sexual wife, a chilled out daughter. Maybe he could retreat and figure out his next move rather than stay hidden in a cubicle.

"Look, Jerry," He glanced about nervously, "I'm going to make a break for it and head home. Think you can cover for me if anyone asks?"

His friend shrugged. "Sure, I guess. Pretty lame that you were a god for like half a day and now you're normal before we could have fun with it," he shrugged again, "but whatever, I'll tell everyone you're outta town or some shit."

Feeling a sense of relief and gratitude he fist bumped the other man, anxiously looked about, and power walked for the elevator. Harriet's eyes lit up as he approached and promptly fell as he rushed past. Dylan cheered him on, confused by why he was running track to the elevator but just happy to support the whole thing. Lisa gave him a shy smile, the tent in her pants bulging at the sight of him.

He was at the elevator and tapped the button a couple of times. Shifted his feet uneasily. When the bell rang and the doors finally opened Sam felt as though a weight had been lifted as he stepped inside.

His relief was short lived however.

"BLAKE!"

Terror flooded his being when he looked up. Throwing her office door open was Vicky, eyes set upon him with a mixture of profound lust and vicious, animalistic savagery. For a second that stretched out to an eternity they remained frozen, locked eyes. But then Sam broke the spell and smashed the elevator button and Vicky raced forwards. His heart was ready to explode in his chest as she drew near and he smashed the button again and again with his fist. He could practically feel her breath when the doors mercifully closed shut and he began his descent.

He was in his car and on the road in no time. The whole time he had the irrational feeling of Vicky chasing him after him Terminator style, waiting to latch onto his car to get to him, but luckily he arrived home without a complaint.

It was dark when he got in, and strangely quiet in the large house he had fashioned for himself. He considered calling out, but the truth was that all of the excitement and fear from the days events had utterly drained him. It was all he could do to put his keys in their place and stumble over to the couch in his expansive living room. He let out a long sigh, rubbed his face and leaned back into the cushions. His eyes fell shut mostly on their own initiative and sleep took him relatively quickly.

His dreams were blessedly nonsensical and bland, shapes and colours and places that he half recalled from years ago. It was a wonderful montage of vagueness and his mind felt a wonderful sensation of peace wash over it.

There was another sensation too. A warm tugging, as though his essence was being drawn forth in a warm whirlpool. That gentle tugging grew more persistent. It felt good. In fact, it felt great. And soon he began to realise that the source of pleasure was coming from his groin, and that there was a strange kind of wetness around his groin. Faintly he could hear...smooching? Was that what it was? Some kind of wet, almost kissing sound? Light began to slip into the dark void of his sleep state and slowly he felt the world coming into focus as consciousness regained supremacy.

Somewhat awake now, and feeling soft hands on his thighs and the faint tickle of hair brushing his skin, he recognised the feeling for what it truly was. He was getting his dick sucked. The sucking was aggressive now, a Hoover on his cockhead coaxing him closer and closer to completion. He didn't try and hold back his orgasm, why should he? It had been a long day and he needed the relief of Julie's mouth.

It was only when he had emptied his balls into the waiting mouth that Sam began to properly open his eyes, though what greeted him caused his heartbeat to screech to a grinding halt.

Kneeling between his legs, with his softening dick in her cum filled mouth was his eighteen year old daughter Stella. Meeting his eyes she pulled herself of his shaft, audibly swallowed the load she had received and smiled sweetly at her father.

"Morning Daddy!"