Yes, perv on your daughters

You watch Kyler's slut dance. Your body reacts before your mind can catch up, a wave of heat and shame washing over you. This is Kyler. Your daughter. But on the screen, in this alien landscape of likes and shares, she's an object of desire, a fantasy for a million anonymous strangers, just like the hundreds of other girls you just watched.

The video ends, and you keep scrolling, almost in a trance. The algorithm is relentless. Kyler again. This time she's alone in her bedroom, the one with the band posters. She's doing the "bunny challenge." She sits on the floor, her feet making little "bunny ears" behind her head, a playful look on her face. Then, the song kicks in, and she grins mischievously at the camera. In one fluid motion, she falls forward onto her hands and knees, and sticks her ass up in the air directly at the lens. Her tight, cotton panties stretch over the firm globes of her ass cheeks for maybe 5 seconds.

The pose is held for a beat, two, three, before the video replays itself. But the image is burned into your retina. The comments are a firestorm: "FUCKING GOD DAMN", "you know what you're doing KYL", "We love you KYL ", "Daddy wants to pound".

The word "Daddy" hits you like a physical blow. A primal, territorial rage snarls through you. Not jealousy, but a fierce, protective anger that borders on madness. These aren't her friends. They're predators circling in the digital dark, and she's just playing, unaware of the wolves.

You jerk your hand away from the mouse. The screen is now a montage of young, taut bodies, your daughters' flickering among them like ominous signposts.

You grip your cock stroking your cock. These are my sluts. You mutter to yourself. You see Elsa again. She was dancing outside, wearing jean shorts. The song was twerking as she bounced and shook her fat little ass for the phone. You look to the comments and everyone gushing about her ass for her size and wanting to destroy it with their cocks.

You groan with pleasure as your daughters dance on your screen while you jerk your veiny cock at them. The shame is there, a dull throb in the back of your mind, but it's smothered by a stronger, more urgent heat. You feel like a perv, a patriarch surveying your daughters, watching your progeny flourish in their newfound power. They are so beautiful, so alive, so under your roof.

Your pace quickens on your cock. The faces and bodies on the screen blur together. You focus on Elsa's bouncing ass, then Kyler's upturned, presented rear. They are no longer just your daughters. In this dimly lit room, to the anonymous eyes of the internet and the dark corners of your own mind, they are the hottest, most popular sluts you can claim. The thought is a jolt of pure, uncut ecstasy.

You cum hard, painting your own fist in ropes of hot cum. A grunt escapes your lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated release. You go limp in the chair, the screen still glowing with the silent, looping dance of your daughters, your chest heaving. You look down at the mess on your hand and stomach, a tangible marker of the line you've just gleefully raced across.

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