Poppets Snowstorm Rewrite I

The snow was coming down hard, man, and it wasn't looking so good for me and my old man. We were stuck in a car in the middle of nowhere. Me? Well, I was busy in the back seat, lost in my sick little fantasies. We were never exactly a well-adjusted, normal family. No, my dad had a way of controlling me, making me do shit I didn't want to do.

So there I was, pretending to be asleep, but really dreaming up some twisted scenario where I had the power to transform the whole damn world. And in this fucked-up dream, I imagined myself as the only chick left and everyone, including my dear old dad, lining up to take a shot at me. Sick, right?

I guess my hands had a mind of their own too 'cause one of 'em found its way down into my pants, gripping my cock. Fuck, I was hard as a rock, man. And just as I was about to let my sick fantasy go to a whole new level, BAM! The car hit a bump and jerked me right back to reality.

"Daddy," I muttered absentmindedly, not fully snapping out of my sick little reverie.

"The fuckin' car is off the road," he snapped back. "And you better call me 'sir.'"

"Yes, sir," I replied, my mind still lingering on twisted thoughts of my dad bending me over and getting a taste of my imaginary girlish assets.

We stumbled out of the car, surveying the situation in the freezing cold. Fuckin' great. We had two options: either snuggle up in the car and freeze our asses off together or find some shelter. And just our fuckin' luck, a faint light twinkled in the distance through the flurry of snowflakes. Looked like a building, man.

"Let's go see if someone's home," dad suggested, his voice laced with hope. Maybe, just maybe, they could bail our sorry asses out of this mess.