Author's Note: This story is set after a worldwide pandemic that is close to, but not quite like the one that took place while it was being written. Imagine it as an alternate world where the virus was a little more serious and lockdowns had to be more intense than they tended to be and people were generally better about abiding by them.

This Is How It Starts by AnonyMPC (Mg, Mf, MF, Mmf, inc, prost, semi-mc, dubcon, oppai, loli, sci-fi)

I blame the quarantine. The stay-at-home orders. The lockdowns. If not for that, it might never have been discovered... or maybe it would have, but I might have been left out of it, might never have seen what no man was meant to know.

People complain that the virus changed everything, that it established a New Normal. They have no idea that the subtler contagion that really has the potential to rewrite society was just using the virus and all our social distancing to keep under the radar. If we were in our normal world, where kids went to school, surely somebody would have noticed right away... or maybe nobody would notice the effect enough to take advantage. After all, without the lockdowns, a lot less people would have started baking.

My first encounter with this all was while the virus... the actual virus, the one everybody was paranoid about, the one that had us wearing masks in public, canceling family holidays... all of that looked like it was finally winding down. The new vaccine was out, and--as a grocery worker--I was lucky enough to get one of the first waves of injections and the corresponding card which let me pass lockdown checkpoints, so I could finally visit people without risk of infection or reinfection or becoming a carrier.

So, naturally, I visited my brother. My place isn't that far away from his, but in a lockdown it might as well have been across the country... for months, I'd only seen him and his family from a long distance, or on video chat, and... I missed my nieces and nephew. Them, I'd barely even seen at all aside from a few social media pictures or brief hellos on a screen before rushing off to do something. Maybe my nephew Cameron I saw a little more than the others... when I did get a chance to talk to the kids, he had a habit of taking over the camera, apparently completely oblivious to the fact that I also wanted to see and talk to my nieces. Maybe even more. Don't get me wrong, I love my nephew, but I'd just always connected better with the girls and it felt like I hadn't caught up with them in so long.

Despite this, I didn't rush to his house the moment I was allowed to... my brother Ben had hedged around my coming to visit, even though I offered immediately and he agreed, tepidly, that it was a good idea. Still, when I pushed for a time he kept giving me vague 'I don't know maybe sometime soon' type answers while also significantly downplaying the idea of an extended visit. I thought maybe he was listening to one of those conspiracy theories about the vaccine being dangerous. After a week of letting him put me off into an undefined 'soon' I finally decided to say 'Fuck It' and just drove up to his suburban home and knocked on the door.

After all, it was the middle of the day, and he wasn't working. Most people were still afraid to leave their homes except for emergencies, so I couldn't imagine it was even possible that I'd come at a bad time. I'd be going stir crazy, and I still had a job designated emergency, because grocery stores still needed to run, and even if now they were making a lot more deliveries some people still made treks to the actual store. Ben, on the other hand, had been laid off, doing nothing, for months now.

Well, nothing that counted as work. I did know that he'd gotten really into baking. For a while he was daily posting pictures of his homemade bread and muffins and other sorts of things on social media. Lately there'd been less pictures, but I knew he was still doing it because he'd been making a lot of inquiries about flour and where to get it... it was going through another scarce period. That was another reason I expected to be welcomed with opened arms. I had two bags of flour from my store to give him, fresh from the delivery truck... being a manager has its privileges. Now I wonder if he'd have opened the door at all if I hadn't.

Either way, it took him long enough, I must have waited there for five minutes before he peeked out, and he didn't look all that happy to see me. I thought it was leftover fear that had been drummed into us... I wasn't wearing a mask, and I often still had to show people my vaccine ID to convince them things were okay.

"Hey man," I said with a smile as my brother poked his head through the sliver of his front door.

"Oh, hi Mike," he said. He still didn't open the door beyond a crack. "I wish you'd called."

"What, am I interrupting your quarantine plans?" It was hard not to feel a little hurt by a reaction like that. "I was in the neighborhood, figured I'd drop in on my baby brother with some supplies. I brought some of the kids favorite snacks, some frozen vegetables, some flour. So are you going to let me in or should I take this stuff to someone else?" Not that I would, even if he did turn me away I'd have left it on the porch.

His eyes widened at my list of goods, particularly the last, and he said, "No, no... it's good that you came, just... give me a couple minutes?"

So I waited on his damn front porch, assuming that his house was just a mess and he needed to do some quick sprucing up--which I understood but also... he knew me well enough that I wasn't exactly going to hold a disordered house against him. Mine got to be pretty gnarly when I didn't have a woman around who cared about such things.

Finally, after about five minutes, my brother Ben opened the door, and I entered, lugging in the two bags I had dragged out from my car for him, one after the other. I left them by the door and took a look around at the place that had been almost as familiar as my own, once, yet that I hadn't seen in months.

It didn't look much different, and it certainly wasn't anything like a pigsty. Not even a pigsty-that-has-been-hastily-cleaned-up, just a normal lived-in family home. There was a bit of a smell in the air, sour and yeasty. I sniffed at it a little too loud, not intentionally, but it must have caught his attention. "That's just the sourdough. It hasn't been fed."

"Right," I said. His little home-baking project. "Well, the flour's going to help with that."

"Hi, Uncle Mike!" I looked up to the top of the stairs, where my brother's teenage son Cameron had just come out of his room, closing the door behind him. I figured he was reasonably good looking for a fifteen-year-old, his dirty blonde hair a little shaggy and probably in need of a trim, but otherwise his slim body not showing much hair. He was shirtless, wearing long shorts, confident and casual in the way teenage boys can be around the house, or I would have said so but there was something that tripped off my uncle intuition, some subconscious cue I recognize from what he was in trouble as a kid, something that made me think he was more nervous than he should have been. At least until he saw me taking out a bag of flour from the grocery bags, and then his face was flooded with relief. "Shit, you've got flour? Thank god."

Not quite the reaction I was expecting from a teenager. "You been getting into the baking too?"

"Not really. More the eating. The bread is... really good though." Again, that uncle intuition went off. There was something about the way he said that that sounded just wrong, but I didn't press it.

Nor did I know enough to interpret the look that passed between father and son. Maybe it's an in-joke, I thought. "So, where's Mandy and the girls?" Another look.

"They're, you know, busy with their own things," my brother said. "Mandy's taking a Zoom call, she can't be disturbed. And you know girls, always wrapped up on their phones."

That seemed a little unfair, Cameron seemed just as much into his phone at our last family gathering as the girls were, although right now he seemed more engaged, even came all the way down the stairs to take the groceries into the kitchen. "I'd better feed the starter." Far more helpful than a teenager should be with his father's hobby, no matter how good the bread was.

His father nodded. "Anyway, Mike, thank you for coming, I really appreciate the groceries...."

I'm not totally oblivious... that was a 'thanks for coming but you really should go.' "Dude, I've got to be the first person outside this house you've seen in weeks. And it's like you want me out of here as soon as possible. Did I do something?"

His face looked stricken. "No, it's not that, it's just..."

That was when I heard a commotion from upstairs, voices, girl's voices, a door opening, then slamming shut, then a struggle over what state it should be in. "No, I wanna say hi to Uncle Mike!"

It was my youngest niece, little Chloe, ten years old now, and the brightest smile you could imagine, although I still had to do that because she still wasn't visible. "Dad said to stay put," I heard from her older sister, Isabelle.

Chloe whined, "But I haven't seen him in forever! And he might have cash!" That was a little unusual... I mean, like any good uncle, I often did find excuses to sneak them a little cash just as a symbol of my affection, but they weren't usually openly eager about it.

Much more unusual was the way her father sprang into motion with nervous energy, dashing to the foot of the stairs, yelling up, "Stay in your room, honey!" There was a panicked tone in his order that I'd never heard before.

Up there, it sounded like there was a limited struggle... not a violent one, but like two kids wrestling, and as often happened when Ben and I wrestled as kids, the littler one had an astonishing habit to wriggle free and that must have been what happened here. Chloe slipped through the partly open door and started charging down the stairs and I got my first look at more than her face in months.

"Hi Uncle Mike!" she said, but all I could do was stare.

She was hardly recognizable. Sure, she still had the same smile I remembered, though she'd lost one of her baby teeth, and the same bright eyes. Everything else... was just shocking, starting with her body shape. Little Chloe always tended a little bit on the chubby side, baby fat she still hadn't grown out of... well, now she's grown out of it, or maybe it was still there, but had reallocated, all of it going to her breasts and butt, leaving her body waifish, tiny... and showing a fuckton more skin than a girl her age should, more than I'd ever expect her in particular to want to show. The last thing I remember seeing her wearing, before, was a short sleeve purple blouse with various flowers, and somewhat baggy child-jeans. Even in summer she rarely wore shorts or showed more than her arms, and though I'd taken her and her siblings swimming a few times she always seemed a little uncomfortable to be wearing a swimsuit, at least until she started having fun. I never pushed her to wear anything, it was none of my business, and honestly I didn't care, I just noticed the trend and felt a little twinge of sympathy for the body shyness I figured she'd picked up somewhere.

Clearly she was over that and had gone so far in the other direction it was practically obscene. Now, she wore the tiniest red miniskirt you could imagine, and her legs beneath weren't technically bare... but only technically. You couldn't call them leggings, they were instead just widely-spaced fishnets, the kind you could stick fingers through and stroke her legs unimpeded, if you were so inclined. The rest of her outfit looked like she was encouraging that kind of boldness, with a pink halter top that pushed up her inappropriately full bosom, and the straps dangled down her shoulder showing no bra when she now definitely needed one. I tried to focus above the neck, hoping everything else could be explained by sudden-onset puberty and bored dress-up games, but she almost looked like a different person, her face thinner, her hair long and styled rather than the androgynous mop top I remembered... and, one more dramatic change, her face was covered in color and shine, glossy lipstick and dark eyeshadow... she might have even had blush. She was made-up like, to be charitable, a child beauty queen, and to be uncharitable, a cheap whore.

The last was more on point, because beauty queens are at least coached to be demure, while Chloe now was anything but... in her zeal to wave at me the moment she saw me, she bent over the handrail of the stairs, and in the process show off her startlingly advanced cleavage, which, with what she wore, in that position, couldn't help but also display her prominent little nipples. "It's good to see you," she said with no shame whatsoever at what anybody could see, which you might have put down to her innocently not realizing it... at least until she immediately continued with, "Hey, want a blowjob? Only $20."

I stared up at her, then to my brother, who didn't seem surprised, only embarrassed. Cameron returned from the kitchen, palm over his face, muttered, "I knew Bells would blow watching her."

My mouth hung open, and in that space little ten-year-old Chloe bragged, "I'm really good at them. Ask Dad or Cameron."

I stared at my brother, not angrily, at that point, but in pure incredulity. What else could I say? "What the fuck?"

He sighed, a resigned sigh that I imagined a death row inmate might give in the chair if they've made peace with their death. "You'd better sit down."

"No, seriously, what the fuck?" Now the anger was rising, although the incredulity was still there. My own brother, molesting his kids? I guess families are always shocked to learn it, but I'd still say, with Ben, it was hard to even imagine.

And now he wanted me to sit down. Like it was something we could discuss. I advanced on him, prepared to throttle him, but Cameron got in between us, ready to defend his father in a way that would have been touching in another context. "It's not his fault," my nephew said quickly, and then corrected. "Well, it is a little. But not how you think." He cocked his head back towards the kitchen. "It's the sourdough."

It was just so bizarre an explanation that it interrupted my righteous anger. "The what?"

"Just... just hear me out," my brother said. He had his hands up defensively, but he didn't seem scared so much as weary.

"Sorry Dad," I heard from upstairs. It was my other niece, thirteen-year-old Isabelle. Bells for short unless she'd grown out of that and preferred another nickname. Looking up, she certainly seemed to have grown up in a few other ways, although her changes were less dramatic, and focused mainly on wardrobe. Last I saw her, Bells was just starting to get to the stage where she was interested in fashionable clothes and makeup, at least when I was taking her out somewhere people from her school might see her, but at home you could still feel her lounging around in something like an old NASA t-shirt that was far too big for her. Now, as I caught sight of her in the upstairs hall, she seemed to be dressed exclusively to attract the wrong kind of male attention... if I was more up on the slang I might have called her a 'thot' (if that isn't already out of date by now).

Bells strutted out of her room in high heels and pleated school girl skirt that wouldn't have met any school dress code except in a porn movie, and a cut off tank top that left her belly bare. Bells also sported the same over-elaborate eyeshadow and lipstick combination her little sister did, although hers was applied with a little more finesse. Her eyes had that effect, I think it's called winged eyeliner, where it looks like it's swept to one corner in an unnatural way, exotic way. I guess it's a style now, but when combined with her outfit it seemed to make her look extra trashy. She seemed to have more-or-less the same body type and the same straight black hair I was used to (maybe a little longer and more wavy), but it was her outfit that set off red flags. Side-by-side with her little sister, the two of them looked like an obscene pair of underage streetwalkers. "She got away from me," Bells said, and in her shame at whatever her failure of sibling-watching she nervously tugged down on the straps of her tank top. That motion, whether intentional or accidental, ensured that her own breasts made a shameless appearance through the arm holes, even without the straps leaving her shoulders. I wasn't trying to look at them but it was hard not to notice in the second or so it happened that her breasts seemed much smaller than her little sister's... or at least, smaller relative to body size, they might have been bigger overall, but even there I thought little Chloe won out. I forced my eyes to Bells' face again rather than attempt that comparison, and when she caught my eye she said, with warmth but still slightly less enthusiasm than her little sister, "Hi Uncle Mike." Then, followed it up with, "Hey, you looking for a good time? For just a hundred you can cum inside my ass or pussy. No, wait, seventy-five, I think I can give you the family discount."

"I already offered him a blowjob," Chloe warned her, sounding defensive, or jealous, and then turned her eyes on me, almost pleading. "Just twenty dollars. It's a steal." Then she barreled down the rest of the stairs and stepped forward, although instead of going for a hug as she might have before, she instead reached out and made a grab for my crotch. Instinctively, I put a hand on her head to push her back... whatever depravity was going on in here I had to stay clear of it. She struggled to get by but with a smile on her face like it was a game. "It's okay Uncle Mike, I don't mind swallowing."

"They can't help it," my brother said softly, almost forlornly.

"Chloe Susan Spalding! I better not have heard what I thought I heard!" The last member of the household, my sister-in-law Mandy, could be heard from upstairs, possibly the master bedroom, and naturally, I expected her to freak out and blame me somehow for what their daughters were doing... she'd never liked me much, and I always got the impression she was giving me the stinkeye any time I played with her children, and now here her ten-year-old was still trying to go for my cock.

Her appearance was only a slightly less dramatic change than those of her children. She looked like she'd spent the quarantine getting into top shape and had plastic surgery to boot, her lips puffed up like a porn star, skin almost glistening, breasts far more pronounced with her lost weight... she wasn't skinny like her children, but Kim Kardashian-style thicc sexyness. She was always a 'hang around in sweatpants' kind of wife, and even when she dressed up for a night on the town, it was conservative... she hadn't really shown off, at least as far as I'd seen, since she had her kids... but now she was practically putting her assets on display in tight-fitting yoga pants. Her hair, previously kept short, was past her neck now, though she was hardly the only person whose hair had grown out during the age of social distancing. "Did you just say you were going to swallow his cum for twenty dollars?" She moved past Isabelle and stomped down the stairs, a mother's anger in her eyes.

"I didn't ask her..." I tried to insist, but she brushed right past me and grabbed Chloe by her top.

"Twenty dollars?" Mandy repeated, as though that was the issue.

"Family discount?" Chloe suggested.

"Uncle Mike is extended family," she clarified, stressing the 'extended' part, which I guess meant I didn't deserve a discount, or not that much of one. "And your mouth's worth far more than twenty for a first time customer." Now she turned to me, and put on a smile that was rare from her on a normal day. "I'm sorry, you can fuck my daughter's mouth for a hundred, if you got it, but I can't in good conscience let it go for twenty. She's only ten, that comes at a premium, you know." She circled around her daughter, bent to lay her chin on the little girl's shoulder, then pulled up her skirt and I forced my eyes away, mostly, but peripheral vision--or maybe just my imagination--made me certain she was cupping her daughter's pussy. Maybe bare pussy. "If this little devil had her way, she'd be selling her best assets for dollar store candy. But, just so you don't feel cheated, I'll personally give you the twenty-dollar blowjob she offered... just don't get used to that price, it's a one-time offer, today only."

Any other day my sister-in-law offering to suck my cock right in front of her husband, seemingly careless of his reaction, would have been the most awkward encounter in my year, but now it barely rated. And now I got a glimpse again of the weariness of my brother's eyes and had some sense that maybe it wasn't just the look of a dead man walking, but rather someone who'd been dealing with something deeply weird for too long. "Honey," Ben said, "Mike brought some flour, for the starter. Cameron just finished feeding it." All three of the girls seemed to let out a breath. "He's not interested right now and we need to talk... why don't you go back to doing your shows?"

Mandy shrugged, and turned and started up the stairs, her bubble butt swaying alluringly. Little Chloe followed, although she looked back at me as she ascended, a dejected expression on her face, at first... although when she was partly up the stairs she did pause to look back, open her mouth wide and extend her tongue out as though demonstrating her oral skills, and tilt her head like she was renewing her offer, before her big sister stepped down just enough to grab her by the arm and then yanked her back into her room.

I turned my gaze back to my brother. "What the fuck is going on in this house?" He gestured at me that I should sit down, and, what the hell, the world's gone crazy, and it felt like the floor could scoot out from under my feet at any moment, so it just seemed wise to be somewhere comfortable.

"I told you, they can't help it," he explained. "It's the sourdough starter. It fucks with their brains somehow."

"You should tell him the whole story, Dad," Cameron suggested, and his father nodded.

He took a breath, sat down across from me, put his hands on his knees and leaned forward. "You remember Eddie? Eddie Kirkman?"

Vaguely. Being a couple years older than him, my little brother's high school friends only merited the tiniest portion of my memory. They were nerds... not stereotypical taped-up-glasses, bullied-all-the-time nerds like you see on TV... honestly, I don't even think they were social outcasts in the sense that people deliberately excluded them, but at the same time when we were in high school together they weren't the type you'd see at parties, pretty much ever. I wasn't the most popular guy in school by any means, but compared to my brother and his friends I might as well have been. He was always on the shy side, and so were his friends, and they had niche interests... so they pretty well spent most of their time hanging out with each other, and I don't think one of them had a girlfriend until they got into college. I remembered at least one was actually autistic, although I don't remember if it was Eddie. "I guess?"

"Anyway, you know he's a bit of a history buff." I did not know that, but didn't challenge it. "And we were talking about ancient Egyptian bread. This story popped up on social media, some scientists actually found some yeast on ancient Egyptian pottery and brought it back to life and actually used it to make bread."

I put the pieces together. "So... the sourdough starter comes from ancient Egyptian yeast?" Seemed pretty far-fetched.

"Oh, no. But it gave him the idea. You see his thing is the Old West. You know, cowboys, saloons, and so on. He takes trips up to old ghost towns, just for fun. And he thought it'd be fun to try to bring back some yeast from those days. If yeast can survive thousands of years, recovering something usable from a few hundred should be much easier. And there was a story in one of these ghost towns that captivated him, and he thought it'd be fun to try to bring back bread that was the center of an Old West shootout, in the town whorehouse."

"Wait, what?" Cameron asked. "You never mentioned that part. You know that actually explains a lot."

"It wasn't exactly appropriate to mention, so when Eddie dropped it off he gave you kids the sanitized version of the story. But considering you're buying sex off your little sisters every day that's probably not required anymore." Cameron didn't even try to deny my brother's accusation, just put his hands in his pockets. "Anyway, this local Wild West whorehouse was known, aside from the obvious, for its bread. And when the town went bust after the gold ran out, the whores got into a fight over who got to keep the sourdough starter... during a tussle, the jar smashed, and that led to a gunfight and pretty much all of them died. Eddie thought if the bread was that good, he might as well try to culture some of that yeast from shards recovered from the scene... and I got a kick out of trying out 'whore bread,' so when it seemed to be working for him, I got a sample. I never would have done it if I thought it would make all the women in my family start actually acting like whores."

"So, what, you're telling me this sourdough starter is haunted by the ghosts of Old West prostitutes?" I asked, sarcastically.

"Christ, I don't know, Mike. That's as good an explanation as anything. But my theory is it's just a weird biological quirk. You ever hear the story of that fungus that takes control of ants, turns them into zombies? I think this yeast does something similar, turns women into whores to keep itself alive. It's not so out of the question... I mean, that's what yeast does, it converts starches and such into different acids and chemicals. A normal starter, if you don't feed it regularly enough, it starts producing alcohol, all the sites warn you there might be a layer of hooch. But you know, there's always variety in nature... like... some mushrooms are delicious, some make deadly poisons, and others produce hallucinogens. I think that's what happened here, this lost strain of yeast makes something other than alcohol, some sort of psychoactive compound that makes women willing to sell sex. Not just willing, really, it's more like a compulsion."

"It makes them want to dress sluttier, too," Cameron piped in. "First day we made the bread, I was like WTF, since Bells started walking around in just her underwear, which she never does and Mom... well, like she was going out on a night clubbing."

"I'm not even sure they're fully aware of how weird these urges are, at least not right away. It all feels like the most natural thing in the world, to them." He took a breath, then revealed, "This isn't just us, you know. Eddie told me he got lucky with his hot neighbor after sharing some bread... it was only later I got him to admit that he paid her... but it took us all a while to really figure out what was going on and why. I mean, when Mandy asked me for money for sex I thought she was doing some kinky roleplaying thing. And you know, married almost twenty years, any sex I can get, I'll take. Had no idea my daughters were doing the same to Cameron."

"Mostly Bells," Cameron explained. "Chloe just kept trying to get me to give her quarters to look at her underwear at first. I mostly just did it to get her to stop bugging me. But you know, every time she had a slice of the bread, Bells offered to give me a blowjob for some of my allowance money and like, everybody's been stuck at home forever it's not like I'm going to meet a girl, where else am I going to get a deal like that?"

Ben snorted a little. "Besides your mom, or Chloe, you mean."

Looking down at the floor, Cam gave a little half-hearted shrug without removing the hands from his pockets. "Mom charges too much... and I only do Chloe because I have no choice."

It didn't look like my brother entirely believed his son, but at the same time, he seemed like he was beyond being mad about his own son buying sexual favors from his ten- and thirteen-year-old daughters. And maybe his wife. "So they eat the bread and they start selling sex?" I asked. My brother nodded. I wasn't sure I believed it, or how I felt about it... I mean, it was awful, obviously, and yet a drug like that could be priceless... if not for the moral issues, that is. "So why not just stop making the fucking bread?"

My brother barked out a bitter laugh. "Oh, if only it was that easy. It's funny, it's not even that great bread. To us, anyway. Maybe the whorehouse had some special recipe since it was supposedly popular among the customers, but the stuff I make is just bland, at least to me and Cam." Cam nodded his agreement. "I'd have stopped making it after the first loaf if Mandy and the girls didn't all love it." He shook his head. "And if not making it wasn't worse. See... whatever drug the yeast produces... it's like a stress chemical reaction. As long as the yeast's happy, it doesn't produce much. I think it comes out in the bread because the yeast's dying as it's getting baked... starts converting sugars into something that only tastes good to women, I think, and causes the whore effect. But it's subtle... I think most of it bakes off, and it's just a residue. The real problem starts if the starter starts to get too hungry... then it goes into overdrive, the chemical spews out into the air, and well... that's when the whore time really begins. Even worse than from eating something baked with it. They eat a slice of bread, maybe they get the impulse but they don't act on it, you know? If they eat too much of it, they might make an offer, or if you suggest it... but if the starter's hungry, and they're breathing it in... they start to get really insistent on it. Like they need to earn money that way."

"To pay to feed the starter," Cameron explained.

"And you couldn't just give them money, without sex?!"

"It doesn't work!" my brother insisted. "Don't you think we've tried that? Unless they make the money sexually, it doesn't satisfy them."

"And even then," my nephew added, "it's just a short time, if we don't feed the starter, it just starts up again... and flour's been impossible to get. We've tried feeding it other stuff. It has... some weird effects."

Before I could wonder about those, my brother continued, "Believe it or not, I was trying not to molest my daughters, but you have no idea how strong this compulsion can be... when I refused them, and made sure Cameron wasn't going to accept their offers, Chloe actually tried to sneak out of the house. She was going to find someone to sell a blowjob to if it meant walking the streets." Shit, that was terrifying for a number of reasons. "Thank God Cameron caught her sneaking towards the door and offered her a candy bar for a handjob. But by then the starter was in the air and it didn't even hold her for long. So, yeah, eventually we started buying everything they offered, because the more they earn, the longer they get relief when they turn the money over." He shook his head ruefully, then explained at my confusion over the last part, "It's like the chemical kicks off some kind of cycle in their brains. They smell the starter hungry, they whore, and then, they give me the money to pay for taking care of it, because, I guess, I'm the one they think is in charge of it. Chloe even gave me the candy bar she earned. It's crazy... the compulsion isn't about sex, exactly, or about money. To satisfy this itch in their brain, they specifically have to earn what they think of as a fair price for something sexual, and then contribute that to whoever's taking care of the sourdough starter. There's no logic other than that. It's just like those ants with the fungus... they crawl to the tallest grass and wait there to be eaten, because that's the next stage in the life cycle... it's a parasite in their brains, just using them to get what it wants. Except this... yeast doesn't want them to die, it just wants them to whore enough to ensure it gets fed. That doesn't mean it's intelligent, it's just evolved a system of chemical reactions that happen to work out for it. There are rules that it follows that we've pieced together. If I just gave Bells fifty dollars right now, to use when she needs it, even if the starter was starving, she'd lock it away in her piggy bank and still be increasingly desperate to find someone to whore herself to. But if I give her that money in exchange for anal sex, she'll turn around, hand most of the money back, be satisfied that she helped, and be my little girl again for a while. But only a while, if the starter still hasn't been fed, the compulsion begins again, and all we can do is hope we're rested. So, yeah, our family's had to go through some changes... but what else am I supposed to do?"

I wasn't sure I had an answer to his question. I wasn't entirely sure I believed him, either, it was such a crazy story, seemed tailor-made to give him an excuse... and yet, every female in the house had already offered to sell me some kind of sexual service which meant either there was some truth to what he said or deliberately he'd used his time off to start a family whorehouse and they'd all come to accept it. But assuming he was telling the truth, there seemed to be one obvious escape. "I mean, couldn't you just destroy the starter?"

He waved a hand in the direction of the kitchen. "Be my guest." His son buried his face in his hands. Maybe he was dreading what he might be about to lose.

I slowly stood up, walked into the kitchen, still not entirely sure what to believe. The story was completely crazy but... I began to consider that maybe my brother was telling me the truth. Or the truth as they knew it, but it was hard not to blame them when the solution was this obvious. Yet... he and Cameron ate the mutant sourdough bread too. Maybe it had some effect on them, too, subtler than with the women, that just made them unable to take the bold action necessary. I hadn't. I could do it.

Right there, on the table as I entered, I could see the plain mason jar. Innocuous... to anyone who hadn't heard the story, it could be pancake batter or any number of other things inside. The jar's top was covered in something like cheese cloth that allowed the substance, the aroma it was emitting, to get into the air. It seemed like it was less intense a smell than when I entered, maybe because it was fed, maybe I'd just gotten used to the yeasty smell. Visually, the potential cause of all this insanity was just a simple white goo, though with the faintest sign of the life inside, a few bubbles slowly breaking the surface. Harmless, really. I drew closer. All it takes, I thought to myself, is to just dump the whole thing in the sink, run the water, until it's gone. Maybe there was a slim chance that would put it out into the environment, that it would somehow thrive and spread, and I was unleashing a plague into the world but the way waste water gets treated, I didn't think it was too likely.

I took another step... and heard the sound of thunder from upstairs, thunder that was moving with rapid staccato punctuation that almost sounded like a rolling gunfight coming down the stairs. I think I knew what was coming before I saw it, as first my niece Chloe, then my sister-in-law Mandy burst into the room, rage in their eyes. Through the open door I could see Isabelle dawdling after, with less intensity, like she was curious about what the fuss was about, but I only saw that for a second before Chloe went for my legs, a move I taught her long ago, pulling them together until it was hard for me to stay stable, and my brother's wife, looking like the all-time champion enraged spouse-catching-her-husband-cheating... or maybe enraged parent walking in on a molestation, she completed the action and knocked me off my feet, tumbling on top of me in the process. As I grunted and winced from the sharp pain in my tailbone, she used my chest to push herself up, reached for and grabbed a salt shaker from the table and then raised it over my head like she was going to bash my skull in with it.

"Honey... honey... he's not going to harm it." My brother was there, suddenly, holding her arm, preventing the murder blow but it was a struggle. As her nostrils flared with rage and effort, I could see her arm straining against his, the muscles flexing... but it was a good thing she didn't actually have much in the way of muscle. Ben met my eyes, and in a voice that was half-gloat half-warning, said, "Remember what happened at the saloon, Mike?"

He said all of the whores in the town died in a shootout after the jar shattered. At the time, I didn't question it... it was the Wild West, people had gunfights all the time for ridiculous reasons, why not because they got mad a prize sourdough starter got destroyed? But now it took on a darker implication, somehow this same type of thing happened, and all the women working there were filled with this same insensate rage. Ben was restraining his wife but only for a moment, and that option to bash my head in with a salt shaker denied, her free hand went around my throat, doing her best to choke me. Meanwhile, I could hear what sounded like soft little sobs from little Chloe as repeatedly punched my thigh. I truly believed both were willing to murder me if that's what it took to keep this malevolent yeast culture alive.

And maybe my brother was willing to let them, to keep his secret. There was no warning for what might happen, he just let me try and kill the starter...maybe he didn't believe I'd believe it unless I saw it, or maybe he was just trying to get rid of me and give me the small comfort of letting me believe he just couldn't stop it.

Until he did stop it, somehow, with just a few words. "Honey, Mike was just telling me he was interested in your services. Yours too, Chloe."

It was like flipping a light switch. The tension, the anger, left Sarah's face immediately, replaced with a sultry smile, hand falling limp the moment her husband let it go and she casually put the salt shaker on the floor as though she was only dimly aware she was even holding it. Though I couldn't see Chloe's face, she'd also, at virtually the same moment, stopped punching my thigh and her hand started to gently rub where most of her blows had landed... which still hurt the now bruising flesh, but not as much and probably not intended. "Oh really? What did you have in mind?"

"We should give him a mother-daughter blowjob," Chloe suggested.

"That's a hundred fifty dollars, honey," her mother said. "I don't know if your Uncle Mike has that kind of money on him." She got off of my chest then, using the nearby table to help herself up and, in the process, giving me an upskirt look at her bare pussy... I hadn't really noticed until now, but, for whatever reason, in the time Ben had been explaining about the starter, she'd changed into a black leather skirt. She was shaved and I instinctively looked away from some lingering reflex about not looking at my brother's wife, and forced my eyes down my chest for a view of my ten-year-old niece pulling at my zipper like she was ready to give me a free sample.

"I... I don't want to buy any sex with either of you..." I said, but it was a lie, proved by my stiffening cock. I'd never touched Chloe or any girl inappropriately, never would have, but with that reaction I had to consider there was a tiny part, suppressed even to me, that wanted it. But even if that was the case I wasn't about to just go for it.

My attempt at nobility just about got me killed again, I could see both of them, their brows furrow, eyes narrow, mindless rage building, and my brother said, "He doesn't want to pay for it, he means. He's proud, and just isn't used to paying for sex. But I'm sure you'll find some transaction you can complete." Again, the sudden change from suspicion and anger to carefree, and I got my brother's message. I had to pay for some kind of sexual favors to short circuit their protect-the-starter-culture instinct.

"How about a titjob," my sister-in-law offered, and bent down, not just giving me a good look at her tits almost overflowing her bustier, but also reaching for my wallet. "I'm sure you can afford that, at least. Let's see what you've got, anyway."

Now, you might think the weirdest thing about this situation was my ten-year-old-niece and her mother soliciting me for prostitution in the family home, or that my brother and nephew were looming over me seemingly willing to let it go on. But what struck me as strange in that moment was that my thirteen-year-old niece wasn't joining in... she hadn't tried to kill me when I threatened the starter, and right now she was just standing by at the kitchen door with her brother. "Man, you guys are so shameless," she said, and then stepped through the kitchen and went to do something on the counter that I couldn't see, as her whore mom and baby-whore sister left me on the floor to look through my wallet.

"Holy shit, you've got tons of cash here," Mandy said. Blame that on the pandemic, too... when it first started, I took out a bunch of cash as just-in-case emergency money, and then, of course, paid for every single thing electronically from then on out. Yet I kept those surplus bills in my wallet, and now it seemed to be serving me well. "You can afford practically anything you want," she said, flicking them through her fingers to get a quick count, then seemed to stop and notice something on my face. "My husband's not making you uncomfortable, is he? Because we can take this to the bedroom, if you want. Or Chloe's, if you want to fuck her in her little princess bed." And fuck, my traitorous dick lurched at the idea, making a mockery of the convictions I thought I had. Chloe giggled when she saw the bulge through my underwear, which she had a good view of because, thanks to her diligent attention, my zipper was now down.

"We'll give you guys some privacy," my brother said instead, saving me from the worry that he would see. "So you can do what you need to do without inhibition. Trust me, though, buy something from both, or you'll regret it," he advised, and then tugged on his son's arm and left. Cameron gave me a shrug, a 'Whaddayagonnado?' look, and also left me alone with the three women of the house, although apparently only two were triggered into this artificial whore instinct. At least, at first.

"Hey, Bells, Uncle Mike's got a nice one," Chloe said, having fished my cock out of the underwear and now holding the base of my rigid dick on display. Her older sister took a break from looking in the fridge, took a look, and gave an approving nod, but apparently it wasn't enough to keep her from her snack hunting.

Little Chloe leaned in, tongue extended, but her mother slapped her softly on the back of the head before she could make contact and admonished her own daughter. "Not until we make a deal."

The little girl pouted. "What about free samples like the grocery store?"

"You're not a grocery, dear. You attract with looks, but if you touch you might have nothing to sell."

Little Chloe considered this a moment, then pulled up her top over her head and tossed it aside, proudly displaying her far-too-adult boobs. Seriously, if they didn't look fully natural I almost would have assumed surgery. They were were in proportion to her body, and if she stayed with exactly those dimensions and didn't gain a cup size or something in her teen years, she might still grow up to put Katy Perry to shame, but even as a tiny ten-year-old she had a big round handful to squeeze, and her nipples stood out like beacons.

"I know," her mother said, as though I'd commented on them out loud. "She really developed fast, didn't she? Is that your poison, Mike? Tit-job from a ten-year-old? That's a steal, at only twenty-five dollars. I probably should make her charge more, since most ten-year-olds don't have a body like hers, but you know, it's hard to justify without penetration. Hundred dollars, though, and she'll give you a fantastic blowjob. Tell you what, I'll even throw in a titjob as part of it. It's two hundred if you want to fuck her ass, two-fifty for pussy." She was still rifling through my wallet and finished counting it, then said, "But you have three-twenty here... if you want to blow the whole wad, I'll give you a half-hour with both of us, cum anywhere and we'll do whatever you want. I mean, no really kinky stuff, that costs extra."

I wasn't sure I wanted to ask what counted as 'kinky stuff' when she was selling free use of her ten-year-old daughter's body to the girl's own uncle. My eyes darted to Isabelle, completely left out of the transaction, but it looked like she was listening, either out of professional interest or something else, while trying not to be obvious about it.

I had to buy something from Chloe and Mandy, but what about Isabelle? She certainly looked like just as much a whore as the others, but seemed to behave differently. Should I try to negotiate for all three? Or would that cost more than I could afford?

And, of course, the bigger question, which really should have been the first question, "Is Ben going to be okay with this?" Maybe his view of 'buy something' was much less than the 'do anything you want, cum anywhere you want' offer.

Mandy's face grew the faintest hint of a scowl at the mention of her husband. "This is our business, not his." At least until they felt compelled to turn the money they earned over to him, if his story was to be believed. "But I doubt he'll blame you for buying what he and Cameron buy all the time. You're a little bigger than her daddy's cock, but I'm sure Chloe can handle you."

My brother all but admitted molesting his daughters already, to satisfy the starter, but hearing that from my sister-in-law shattered any illusions that maybe he was only doing the bare minimum--oral at the most. Clearly he'd had his cock inside his youngest daughter's ass, maybe pussy, and his wife was okay with it.

I was only Chloe's uncle. Didn't that make it by any definition less wrong for me to do what her father and brother had been doing? Particularly if they needed it to be free of whatever compulsion had gripped them? "Come on Uncle Mike," Chloe begged. "I know it's probably too much money to fuck me but I'll do my best to make it worth it." She pulled up on her skirt, and this time I didn't look away, which proved that my earlier impression was right... her fishnets were indeed all she wore under there... they were leggings more than garters and so the mesh did go up past her little pussy, but the weave was so wide that it actually covered nothing... not only could I see her puffy hairless pussy, blushed soft pink and dripping in wetness, if I was in the right position, I could stick my cock through one of the gaps and fuck her like that.

If I wanted. "Fuck, okay," the words burst through, surprising even myself.

She grinned and in a few hops she slid her way up my leg, ready to hop on and ride my cock like a toy rocking horse, but her mom wasn't quite so ready, held her steady with a hand on her shoulder. "Okay what? What did you decide on?"

I couldn't remember the offers, or at least the specific details of them, nor was my brain really in the right place for comparison shopping and math, math which might be important to my life. If I bought something from Chloe would I have enough to buy something from Mandy as well? And again, where did that leave Isabelle? She didn't seem to be trying to kill me earlier, so it seemed like I could leave her out, and only one deal I was sure counted both of the others.

"The half-hour deal," I said. It covered both of them.

"Yay!" Chloe bounced about, as gleeful as if I'd just agreed to take her to McDonalds on the way home from school... something I'd done on occasion before the pandemic. But this, this would be something I've never done. I watched as her mother took every last bill from my wallet and held it in a curled fist. "So can I?" she asked then, not me, but her mom, and she received a nod in reply, and she leaned in to my crotch and gave my cock a long, wet lick from the bottom up that turned into a suck when it reached the head, and then it was like a magic trick where she made my dick vanish into her tiny mouth in a matter of seconds. Maybe not all the way, but farther than I could have imagined possible for a ten-year-old without triggering a gag reflex.

She pulled back and let me fall out of her mouth, just long enough to take a deep breath and then give me a smile as she licked around the tip, then looked up to her mom. "We should give him the Mother/Daughter blowjob," she suggested. "I think he liked that idea."

My sister-in-law was rubbing her pussy with her fistful of cash while she watched her little girl suck me off, but she made an 'mmm' noise and looked to me. "Do you want that?"

I nodded, and Mandy slid off the chair on her hands and knees beside her daughter, still holding the cash, and when she got close enough, she and Chloe pressed their faces up to either side of my dick, tongue's extended and waggling back and forth like this was a rehearsed routine... and I wondered how many times they'd rehearsed it... if I was lucky I might be the third person ever to experience it, but it might not stay that way if they still had these whore instincts after the vaccines got distributed, all the stay at home orders were lifted and they could go out into the world. Maybe, despite everything, I really should kill that damn....

No, I forced my thoughts away from that. They went into berserk mode when I planned it before, despite having no way to know I was going to, so clearly I couldn't think about doing that, not yet... maybe later, but for now I had to just concentrate on enjoying the Mother Daughter Blowjob Special, for the sake of my life.

After licking up and down my shaft for a while, mother and daughter started taking turns going into full sucks, and though Chloe won out on enthusiasm her mother had more skills and... there was just something about how she moaned into my cock, eyes closed, like she was getting off on it more than I was, that I hoped Chloe would one day learn.

I heard another noise, not from us, and looked up to see my other niece, Isabelle, who I'd almost forgotten was there this whole time, but she was... although not for much longer. On her way out of the room, she looked me and her mother and sister with an amused look you sometimes see on teenagers when people are doing something you're evolved past, and then took a small handful of irregular shaped crackers out of a ziplock bag, the snack she was searching for selected at last. I wondered if it was made with the sourdough culture, but not for long, because I overheard her a few seconds later from the living room. "Hey, you know, since Uncle Mike's keeping the others busy, if you guys were interested in doing a spit roast again I can give you the group rate. Real bargain." Yup, I guess in addition to whore bread they have whore crackers. Did that make her a cracker-'ho? I don't know, but I'm coming to discover just how versatile sourdough is.

I didn't hear what they responded, and in any other scenario I might have strained to listen to see if my niece was indeed having sex with her brother and dad, but her little sister and mother were still performing an incredibly distracting show on my cock and so I lost track. After a couple minutes I could feel that pressure building, and I wasn't sure whether to go with it or try to hold off... I still wasn't anywhere near my thirty minutes. I'm not sure paying my sister-in-law and very underage niece for sex was the morally right thing to do in these strange circumstances, but if I'd already started it I damn well wanted to get my money's worth.

Luckily, the hard kitchen linoleum helped me out, as Mandy winced a little after she leaned down to suck on my balls while her daughter licked a dribble of precum off the head of my dick, and she said, "Hey, you want to take this to a bed? I mean, it's your money, if you want to get dirty on a hard kitchen floor that's what we'll do, but my knees are starting to hurt." No sympathy at all for my bruised tailbone and thigh, if they even remembered causing that.

Traveling to a bed would not only help that, but probably be just the way to give my cock a break and calm down a little so I could enjoy my full time... and there was that suggestion earlier of doing things in Chloe's own bed that spoke to some dark part of me. "Fine, fine," I said.

I might have refused if I wasn't thinking with my cock--or at least, the cock-dominated part of my rational brain since my cock itself was probably just thinking "empty that load"--but the farthest I was capable of thinking ahead was that I wanted to enjoy and stretch out what might wind up being my single slip into utter depravity. That part of my brain in charge didn't even consider that by going out my brother would see me taking his wife and preteen daughter upstairs, now a somewhat willing participant. It's hard to argue you were only doing what was necessary to survive if you move to a second location for greater comfort.

I also didn't think ahead enough to realize that I'd see him, too, and what he was doing to my other niece, Isabelle. I still had those illusions that, sure, maybe my own brother might be paying his daughters for sexual services to satisfy these insane sourdough compulsions, but surely his participation would be reluctant, limited. Despite what his wife had implied, I could tell myself that maybe, aside from a couple slips here and there, he tried to stick to the bare minimum, maybe mostly letting his girls strip for cash, or hand jobs at most if contact was required for whatever bizarre conditions were in play.

But no, as I left the kitchen I saw my brother, with no apparent shame or regret or restraint, guiding his daughter's head down on his cock, while Cameron leaned forward pushing into her ass, hands on her cheeks. And I was filled with hypocritical righteous fury, because he should not be abusing his thirteen-year-old daughter like that, even if I was on my way to do worse to his even younger daughter.

He didn't look up at me, whether because he was absorbed in his incest or not wanting the image of his brother going off to fuck his wife and daughter to be in his mind, and soon I looked away too... the anger and disappointment was real but at the same time it was hard to sustain, particularly when little Chloe grabbed my hand and tugged me towards the stairs, like she used to do other times I visited, before the lockdowns and viral waves, when she wanted to show me something in her room.

The last time must have been her tenth birthday, and back then it felt like her mother watched our every interaction like a hawk, as though afraid to leave me alone with her, probably because of an earlier comment about giving Chloe her birthday spankings, a thoroughly innocent comment that still drew Mandy's stinkeye. As if I was going to do something inappropriate with my niece.

Now, months later, Mandy was following behind as her daughter pulled me towards her room where I was going to do some extremely inappropriate things with my niece, only she wasn't planning on interfering. "We'll be busy for about half an hour," she said, to her husband, or other children maybe, but no one responded. They were busy too.

When we got up the first few steps Chloe let go of my hand and started racing up the stairs on all fours, like she was a puppy who couldn't wait... again, this was one of her own habits, given new life by the fact that crawling up the steps this way let me see her not-sufficiently-fishnet-covered pussy and asshole. This also didn't bother her mother, who I remembered always warning Chloe whenever she sat without crossing her legs or something... but I guess after a certain point there's no sense in preserving modesty.

At the top of the stairs, Chloe got to her feet and took my hand again and yanked my arm in the direction of her room. It looked pretty much like I remembered it. Given how topsy-turvy the world had gotten lately, I was half expecting a sex swing and strap-ons on all her teddy bears or something, but as far as I could tell, the room was indistinguishable from a room any ten-year-old girl might sleep in. Which isn't to say all kids are the same, but despite sometimes looking boyish with her pre-lockdown hairstyle and clothing choices, at heart Chloe was always a bit of a girly-girl, and so her room seemed like it fit that common type. Or what I assumed was the common type, despite not having seen many kids rooms outside of television. But basically, it was a pinksplosion, with rose colored walls, and a pink shaggy rug covering the hardwood floor, white and pink dresser, and a desk which was itself pure white but was cluttered with enough doodads on it, in variations of that shade, to make it clear to anyone what her favorite color was, and that this had to be where a preteen girl lived. Maybe a like-minded girl of any age might have liked it, but the decorations included a good number of kiddie cartoons, especially Disney branded stuff (Frozen 2 was well-represented, for example).

And, of course, the girliest thing in there--and her immediate destination once she flicked her light on-- her princess bed. Four posts that stretched to about a foot shy of the ceiling, gauzy pink drapery that I think could have closed but never were. Big fluffy pillows and a comforter, slightly askew because bed-making was never a priority, but the covers that were in place were puffy enough that a kid her size could get lost in. Except, of course, if she was on top of them, with no intention of hiding. My littlest niece just hopped on to her bed, got on her hands and knees, and pointed the lower half of her body at me like an invitation. When I didn't immediately jump her, she looked back at me over her shoulder, saw me looking, and wiggled her butt enough that her skirt flipped back and forth between covering and revealing her effectively bare ass. My eyes flicked between that and the devilish expression on her face. This was a girl who knew what I was staring at and was happy about it. She was no longer tugging me by her hand, but I felt myself involuntarily approaching anyway.

Abruptly, before I got close enough to touch, she flipped around to lie on her back, although she leaned up on her elbows and asked Mandy, "Hey, Mom, Uncle Mike can fuck my coochie, right?" One arm stopped being a support and she pulled her skirt back and stroked her glistening slit, using two fingers to spread the hole wide.

"With what he paid, he can fuck any hole he wants," her mother said, but then took the opportunity to drop something that passed for parental wisdom. "But you shouldn't be so eager to tell a guy where you want him to stick his dick. Some guys will want to go just where you don't want it. Best thing to do is just let him choose until you know him well enough to decide if you should use reverse psychology or something." Then, to me, she said, "There's some lube in her nightstand if you want some, but if tears are your thing, you can fuck her asshole dry, too. I can keep her from making too much noise." Well, that was disturbing, and looking at the earnest puppy-dog-eyes on my niece she silently implored me not to hurt her, or at least, that was what I read into it. Maybe she was already trying to use reverse psychology on me. How would I know? If the sourdough could do all it had, maybe it could make someone a masochist too.

But when I said, "No, I don't want to hurt her," she looked genuinely relieved, widened her pussy hole again, and Mandy shrugged. Then something else occurred to me, which, yes, should have occurred to me long ago but hadn't. "Uh, shouldn't I use a condom or something?"

"Your choice, but we ran out of condoms weeks ago, so unless you brought one, you'll have to go without." I had not brought one. I was long past the days I'd carry one in my wallet 'just in case' because whenever I felt like there was a chance there was always time to stop at a store or a washroom dispenser. And of course I never expected a situation like this. "I promise she's very clean." I would hope so. "Or if you're worried about pregnancy, just pull out. Or not." My heart stopped at Mandy's lack of concern over her daughter, then started pounding again as the little demonic thought about taking full advantage of this opportunity wormed its way into my mind. It was only because little Chloe's body, with tits and hips, looked like she was ready to have kids, aside from her tiny size, that it awakened some primal impulse. "She's probably too young to get pregnant," Mandy said, again as though she could read my mind. "...and I've got a few Plan B's. But pregnancy's a risk Chloe's going to have to learn to take if she wants to do this life." With the sourdough's influence, I still wasn't sure 'want' really played much of a factor here, except my own. But even I had to do this, right? I was forced to preserve my life.

To that end, I unzipped again, let my cock flop free once more... it had never really lost its hardness, but some of the urgency was gone. From behind, Mandy pulled my pants down and reached between my legs to stroke my balls, then said to her daughter, "Spread wide, honey."

Like all kids, little Chloe could sometimes be difficult, but usually she was pretty good about following her mother's directions and being helpful beyond that, and no exception here... not only she did spread her legs, which were already pretty wide, but she went one step extra... she tugged at her leggings, centered the weave of the fishnet so a diamond-size hole was right over her own. With her arms at her sides just under her oversized breasts, she held it there with both hands, and pulled that hole wider, inviting me to plunge my cock inside. My eyes drifted back guiltily to her mother, hard to believe she was okay with this, and figured that I owed one last try at resisting what was about to happen. "Are you sure...?"

"You paid for it," my sister-in-law said again, as though that was all that mattered. Maybe it was, when whatever psychoactive trigger was in her brain. "And it's pretty clear you're eager to get a crack at her. Don't worry, I'm not that offended you wanted her first... the last thing I want is an unsatisfied customer, after all. But you did pay for both of us, so is there something you want me to do while you're fucking my daughter? I could call you a pervert if it'd make you feel better. Or I could just suck on your balls." She shrugged. "But if you'd prefer, I'll just watch and wait my turn."

Who knew if I had enough in me for more than one turn? My brother's instruction rose in my memory again, I had to buy something from both of them... I'd already gotten part of a blowjob, but how was I to know that was going to be enough to satisfy her urge? "I don't know, make sure I'm not hurting Chloe... I'm really not into causing pain, but... I don't really know..."

"I know, she's so little, isn't she?" Mandy agreed, showing some motherly concern, as she came around the side of the bed, leaning over her daughter and stroking her hair gently, then looked back to me. "How about I guide you in?" She slipped up to my side. With one hand, she grabbed hold of my dick, pulling me closer to violating her daughter... and then let me go, suddenly, making my cock bounce against the little girl's bare mound and leave a drip behind as Mandy rolled on her side and decided, after all, to go for the jar of lube in the drawer first. I guess I could hardly complain about that, although it felt like I was leaking plenty of natural lube over her skin. While her mother was turned away, Chloe grinned at me and shook her upper body, making those boobs that were too big for her tiny size jiggle enticingly.

Getting started took longer than I expected, at least while I put things in Mandy's hands. First she tried to open the jar of lubrication while holding the wad of bills tightly in her hand, and I realized she hadn't let go of the cash since she'd taken it from my wallet, looked like she was unwilling to part with it, although she finally had to put it on the night table, just for a few seconds, while she worked to loosen the jar lid (which, you'd think wouldn't need it, being a lube jar). The moment the top was off Mandy snatched up the money again as though it hurt to be without it. Was it some kind of psychological crutch, I wondered... reminding herself she was getting paid for these acts, acts she wouldn't do under any other circumstances aside from the influence of this parasitic sourdough starter.

But once the lube was open, Mandy only needed one hand free, got a good clump on in her fingers and rubbed some into her daughter's pussy, then with the remainder began stroking my cock, making sure it was slimy from tip to base, although the tip was already that way just from my own excitement. While her mother handled me, Chloe started using the tips of her fingers to rub at her own pussy again, spreading the lube around or getting herself in the mood, or both at once. She seemed to be smiling when she did it, an intense biting-her-lip smile like she was excitedly anticipating something fun, and my impending cock seemed like the only contender in the room. It was hard not to think she wanted it.

"You ready to fuck her little cunt?" Mandy asked me, letting my dick slip through her fingers with a suddenness that made it bounce springily and look almost like it was nodding. She took it for a yes, anyway, and took hold of my shaft again, aimed me towards her daughter's wet, willing hole, and pulled me until I leaned in and was pressing my dick into my niece's warm wet slit and with me seeming to be the one in the room who was most reluctant about that.

But even my reluctance only went so far. A clench of the balls sent a new pulse of precum dribbling out, into her hole, and some part of me realized that if she could get pregnant at her age, that could have done it, even without penetration or ejaculation, although really, the pulse wasn't even required, what was already making the head slippery could have done it too, it just didn't feel as much like a point of no return as directly depositing sperm cells between the lips of her pussy.

And that's what it was, a point of no return, or close enough to one, because that sense of 'I could have already gotten her pregnant' ends in the next logical thought 'so I might as well fuck her all the way, now.' The only thing that might stop me, short of someone breaking through the door and pulling me off, was little Chloe in pain.

As things stood, that was very close to happening, or very close to me thinking it was, anyway, as I edged forward, my dick slowly prying the incredibly tight walls of her hole apart. It had seemed like an open hole when she spread it, but when time came to compare it still needed to stretch to accommodate me.

With that stretching came a whimper--or a moan of pleasure, impossible to tell which--and a trembling of her tiny little body, but no tears, and that deranged smile still held at least until the head slipped its way inside, when her mouth turned into a soft 'o' shape.

After that, it became easier, still tight, but I didn't feel like I was forcing anything, my cock could slide in and out, though her pussy did cling on the outstroke and I wondered if it might hurt her more to pull all the way out, get the bulbous head back past those lips that were already straining too far around the shaft. Or maybe that was just a delusion I told myself, that I needed to keep fucking her until I was soft.

It wouldn't take much to get me to that point, so I moved slowly, but still with enough force to watch her too-big-for-her-age breasts jiggle when I pushed in. They were remarkably hypnotic, moving both in sync with me and with a little extra bounce that seemed to give them a life of their own, and I wanted to squeeze them, use them as miniature handholds, and, to be fair, convince myself they were real and not some bizarre plastic surgery nightmare (even though I knew that was impossible... who would be doing such surgeries during a pandemic?). I kept my hands on her legs, though, feeling that was a better way to control my pace.

After the first couple strokes, I looked at Chloe's face, enjoyed her open gasping mouth, eyes widening as I went deep, but still no sign of pain, though after a first look at my cock entering her she did look mostly at her mother, and finally she said, "Can I have my pay now?"

Mandy slid her eyes to me, as though trying to evaluate something, then said, "Okay, I guess you've earned it," and took some of the bills--not even half, maybe a quarter at most--and passed them to Chloe's tiny hand, where the little girl immediately made a fist and started twitching and moaning, if you could call it a moan as the sound kept getting interrupted by gasps.

It wasn't just an act... or if it was, it was the best sexual excitement act a ten-year-old could muster, because her pussy began convulsing at the same time and I was absolutely convinced that she was having an orgasm, and as much as I'd like to claim credit for it, it was hard to miss that it started the moment she began holding the money from her whoring.

This must be how it works, some analytical side of my brain said. Part of the secret anyway, how the starter performs its magic to turn normal women, even little girls, into whores... I don't know the exact chemical triggers or how this yeast managed to figure out how to produce them, but somehow there's something in the sourdough that gives women sexual pleasure merely from holding money they earned through whoring. My little niece was cumming on my cock, not from the cock itself but because I paid her to do it.

It wasn't just my niece, either. My sister-in-law, her mother, seemed to be driven to a need to masturbate, with her share of the money, while she watched her daughter getting fucked. I hadn't noticed it much when it started... it might be surprising but if you're going to be fucking a preteen for the first time, your eyes are pretty focused on that rather than a naked adult woman, the kind you've seen before--even if this individual one might have featured in a few inappropriate fantasies. But when I did finally look away from little Chloe's body trembling on my cock, I spotted Sarah biting her lip and rubbing her bare pussy. 'Rubbing' is maybe not strong enough a term, since that might bring to mind a lazy, careful stroke... no, she was attacking it like there was a stain on it she needed to wipe off before an emergency pussy inspection. I'd almost say she was chasing after an orgasm of her own but I think she was already having one and just rubbing through it.

That left me the only one in the room not cumming, and with my cock buried in my adorable, orgasming, niece that situation couldn't last very long... I could feel it building inside me, to an unstoppable force, and leaned forward and supported myself on my knuckles, pushing in for one more burst as what felt like all the pent-up sexual energy in my life from every taboo thought I ever had exploded out of me and into her.

Soon the excited squealing from Chloe, her mother's deeper restrained moans, and whatever sounds I make fucking a little girl (I imagine it was grunting but again, I was a little too distracted to take notes) all fell away and there was just the sound of exhausted breathing, at least for a few seconds. "You've still got some time left," Mandy pointed out, breaking the relative silence. "You have any more requests, or do you want to just lie here dripping cum into my daughter?" I just groaned, briefly considering asking Mandy to do something outrageous like lick the cum out of her own daughter's pussy, but... I'd just blown my load and the idea wasn't as appealing as it might otherwise be. Guilt was starting to set in, and the tiredness that came with release. I felt like I wouldn't be able to get it up again for hours, even if every celebrity I'd ever fantasized about all showed up begging to join my harem. Even if I hadn't done enough to keep Mandy from murdering me for what I tried to do to the start, I'm not sure I could have gotten it up again. "Okay," she said, as though I'd given her a firm answer. Maybe I had. "I'll get you something to clean up with."

Little Chloe was still beneath me and began to squirm, and I thought that she was trying to get out, that maybe the spell of the starter was broken and she'd realized the horror of what she'd just done with her uncle... but although my slimy cock slipped out of her in the motion, after that initial separation she grabbed me by the neck, pulled herself up to both hug me tightly and hang from me like a monkey, at least long enough to kiss me on the cheek and say "I love you Uncle Mike."

Well, good to know treating my ten-year-old niece as a prostitute hadn't ruined our relationship, I guess. Still felt guilty, though. "I love you too, kiddo." But I had to grunt as I did, she wasn't as light as she used to be, especially with her new breasts. She got the hint and let me go, and I was able to stand up at last, look down at her naked body, now with my cum running out of her obscenely widened pussy. What did I just do?

Maybe the starter doesn't only affect women, I told myself. Maybe it makes men more likely to buy sex, too, even when they know it's wrong. If that was true, I could hardly blame my brother for taking advantage of his own daughters... nor Cameron, although in truth I can't say I'd blamed him much to begin with. There were times when I was a teen where my hormones were raging and I know that if my little brother had offered to suck my cock, I probably would have let him and just pretended he was a girl. I'm at least 90% straight, and I'd have never have made any such suggestion myself, but if he offered, I don't think I would have refused, that's just a teenage guy's brain at work, or at least as I experienced it. So I could have given my nephew a pass, regardless. He was a teen, offered an easy supply of sex, and too young to really know better. Ben and I weren't. Unless our minds were warped too. I hoped that was the answer.

Mandy came back into the room with a wet washcloth and pulled Chloe to her feet, then, standing by a wall, began to wipe the cum dripping from her legs. She gave me a side-eye seeing me sitting on the bed, watching, then finally said, "You're welcome to watch until your time's up, but it's not very interesting." I took the hint, started to get my clothes back on. Before I was done, Sarah dragged her daughter off to the bathroom to complete the cleaning regime, and I slunk out of my niece's room.


I stopped at the door of my other niece's room. Isabelle's room was also pink, but that was the lighting... the paint was some kind of cream color, but a ring of programmable LEDs on the edges of the ceiling gave the walls (and, when it was dark, the skin of anyone inside them) different shades, according to her whim... before I might have described it as a sophisticated pink, compared to the childlike pastel pinksplosion of Chloe's, although context and the lack of the regular lights now gave it a feel of something like strip club lighting. Technically, lacking a pole, it looked more like she was in a strip club dressing room... indeed, Bells was standing in front of a mirror, her skin a soft pink like she was flushed all over, adjusting a short short skirt, different from the one she was wearing earlier, tighter, darker. She seemed to be checking to see that it showed off her ass. It did, or at least the bottom globes. Up top, she wore a tight sports bra that clung to her body, with the slogan (or maybe brand name?) 'girl power' on the bottom elastic. She still didn't have much in the way of breasts, compared to Chloe, but finally getting a chance to look at her without being from an angle looking up, I realized how she'd grown in other ways in the last few months... puberty had started giving her that lanky, long-limbed look teens sometimes get.

After a second, Bells caught my face in the reflection, then turned around to look back at me. Her face closed off a little, going carefully blank. "All done, then?" She turned away again and flopped down on her bed, which was comfortable but not especially fancy. As though uninterested in my answer, she started playing with her phone and seemingly ignoring me.

There are things you don't think about when you're having sex with your niece to save your life... like that her sister's going to overhear it and know what you did. I stepped to the threshold of her door, feeling an overwhelming need to explain. Of course, Isabelle was also apparently a whore, based on her offer to me when I first walked in, what she'd done with her brother and father just before she changed. Though there were clear differences between her and Chloe and Mandy, differences I didn't entirely understand, and while I wanted to make sure that what happened wasn't weighing on her, I also hoped that I might be able to get some answers about those differences.

"Are you upset?" I asked. She definitely seemed a little upset, in that way that women sometimes are by seeming completely unconcerned about everything, from the classic "I'm Fine" that means things are everything but, to stewing silently when you're used to joking and smiles. I'd seen that more from Mandy--second-hand, when my brother had pissed her off--than from my nieces, but it seemed like Isabelle had learned it, because she wouldn't even look at me.

Or maybe she was just really wrapped up in her phone. Kids learn that early, too, and those wings on her eyeliner made her look more hostile, so I hoped maybe I was just reading into things. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, she shrugged, which I took for an answer to my question, a firm 'yes.'

"I only... did that because your dad said they'd kill me if I didn't." Which was sort of true, although I wondered about how easily I accepted that, and how easy it might have been to convince me without that threat.

"Yeah," she said finally, sounding a little amused, but still not actually looking at me. Which meant I could look up her tiny skirt, where I could see she was wearing a purple thong (or maybe it was another color and the lights just made it look purple). "Shouldn't have tried to throw out the starter." In that tone of voice that suggests it was obvious and I was a dumbass for thinking differently. Then, softer, more plaintive, she added, "But you sure bought everything you could get from them!"

Why weren't you right beside them, trying to kill me for that too? I wondered, but the fact that she understood the mechanism, on some level, pushed that question aside for an attempt to get back on her good side. "This is all pretty new to me," I said. "I was worried that if I didn't spend enough, it might not work, to turn them back to normal." I guess that was a lie, as were most of my self-justifications... by their reactions, it seemed like the threat to my life was over the moment I agreed to negotiate, and although I was slightly worried they might resume if I screwed up, I can't blame all of what I did on fear. Now I had to face that, and another sin... somehow, in buying full on sex from her little sister and mom, I'd offended Isabelle. I wondered if it was taking sexual advantage of her younger sister or potentially interfering with her parents marriage that bothered her more.

Turns out it was neither. "Yeah, but you didn't have to spend all your money on them," she said, turning on her side, drawing one knee up and in doing so flashing the thong under her tiny skirt again. "Didn't you even want to buy some time with me, too?"

If today wasn't weird enough, now I was going to have to reassure my thirteen-year-old niece that I wanted to buy sex from her, too, to spare her feelings. "I'm sorry. I just wasn't thinking. Of course I wanted to... it's just you didn't seem as crazy to kill me so I thought it could wait." She still looked uncertain, that kind of skeptical 'I don't know if I buy your bullshit' side-eye (with wings, which made her look extra-skeptical), so I said the first thing that came to mind. "Next time, I promise," and her genuine smile warmed my heart.

"You mean it?"

I nodded, not entirely sure if I was lying or not. Once I was away from this house, maybe I'd feel entirely differently, maybe my head would be clear, the pervasive sourdough scent not influencing my own brain (as I still hoped it must be), and I'd choose to do the only moral thing I could do, stay away. Or maybe I'd be coming by more often. I didn't want her to suspect my uncertainty, though, so I covered it by asking the other question on my mind. "Bells," I started, taking a few seconds to compose my thoughts. "Why weren't you trying to kill me in the kitchen?"

"Oh, that," she said. "You know what makes sourdough sourdough, right?"

"Yeast?" And bacteria, some kind of symbiosis. Normally it doesn't turn women into whores, but there's clearly something special about this strain.

"Yeah. Well, you could say Mom and Chloe have a yeast infection." She twirled a finger at her head. "Dad says it's in their brains now. Anyway, Chloe really liked the smell of the sourdough and she ate it raw. That's when she started..." Now her hands went to her chest, miming the boobs her little sister had grown.

"And your Mom...?" She was always cute but now she had a body a Kardashian would be happy with.

"Mom took some too. We all tried some of the raw goo, when we saw how much Chloe liked it, but it didn't take with me. Dad thinks your immune system usually fights it off unless it's weakened by something else, and, you know Chloe..." One of the reasons I hadn't been by while the virus was even a remote possibility... Chloe was in the 'high risk' category. It wasn't as though she was one of those bubble kids or anything, but her immune system was considered weakened due to a genetic abnormality, so she tended to be out of school for colds more than most kids her age, and of course with this particular plague there were worries she would be hit harder than most. I literally had nightmares of accidentally passing it to her if I was still asymptomatic and didn't realize I was carrying it. But her condition was a mutation, not inherited from either of her parents, so I don't know what would have caused Mandy to be more susceptible to the yeast. Bells continued, "I was disappointed at first, I mean, you know how embarrassing it is that my little sister has a better body than me? But I think I'm better off. Since they changed they seem to be a little more... crazy. I mean I have my crazy time too, but it's like an itch... I can not scratch it, if I need to. At least until it gets really bad. But it's like they barely even try anymore."

A persistent infection, in their brains... that explained their reaction when I tried to destroy it, if I just made a little leap. "So the yeast must be telepathic or something," I guessed, realizing how insane that sounded, but it was the only thing that made sense. "So when I thought about harming it, the yeast that's in their brain sensed it and forced them to come to stop me?"

Isabelle listened to my theory with a straight face, then burst out laughing. "No, Dad texted us that you were going to destroy the starter. That's when Mom and Chloe came running."

That bastard. My brother set me up, put me in a situation where I'd have to wind up getting involved in this sordid business for my own survival, so I wouldn't ruin what he had going. It's possible, like me, he didn't have the choice to get involved, but still, that was a shitty thing to do to his own brother.

At the same time, I guessed Bells might be the most unbiased person here, if she wasn't benefiting from it like the guys and wasn't affected as bad as the other girls. And she didn't seem to be... aside from her new, overt sexuality, she still acted mostly like herself. I think she even saw the anger in me and tried to protect her father, distract me by saying, "I don't think it's actually in their brains, you know? I was doing a project in school about how the bacteria in the gut can affect your mood and behavior a lot too... like probiotic yogurt. And it makes more sense the yeast managing to survive there and keep making chemicals instead of getting all the way into your brain."

So there was still a bit of a science geek in there. If she was still mostly herself, even with the influence of the sourdough, maybe I could get straight answers from her. "So... how are you dealing with... all this?"

She shrugged, although this time it was less about aggressively trying to portray a disinterest and rather a genuine, if ambivalent, answer. "I don't know. At least there's something fun to do while we're cooped up here." Sex with her dad and brother apparently counted as fun for her too, despite not having the yeast inside her. I guess that was a good thing, rather than her hating it. I'd almost like to try that moral dilemma on a philosophy professor though, just to see the reaction. "I'm not looking forward to going back to school, though," Bells added, her eyes downcast for a moment. "Everybody there knows what I'll do for a little money."

I shuddered internally. "How does everyone know?" If they knew, the secret was out, and if the secret was out, that meant arrest was coming for all the adults involved.

She shrugged, this time a guilty expression on her face. "We've kind of been doing.... you know, shows, for money." She held up her phone. I let out a breath. That was still bad, but it wasn't necessarily the end of everything.

"We?" I asked, not sure I wanted to know the answer.

"All of us. It helps with the, you know, feelings, when the starter hasn't been fed and the boys don't really want to pay. But it doesn't really scratch the itch, you know? It's like using oven mitts. It's so much better when you're holding cash you've earned. Digital just doesn't measure up. But I guess it's good to have extra money for buying outfits." So did the whores get to keep their digital cash, as it doesn't strike them as 'real' enough to turn over?

Maybe there were other ways to hack the rules. "Couldn't you, I don't know, pay each other?" As incest went, lesbian incest seemed like the lesser of all evils, although the ridiculousness of me, who just had sex with my even younger niece was now advocating on lesser evils was not lost on me. Much less advising this solution. What even is the world anymore?

"I guess we could," she hesitantly agreed, but then added, "if we really wanted it, but we don't. Not when there's always guys willing to pay us."

"But you just said, when things get bad, and sometimes your dad and Cam are worn out..." Her whole face dropped downward now, eyes not willing to meet mine at first and then only hesitantly, and I remembered my brother saying something about catching Chloe trying to sneak out. I've never been a parent myself, but I always remember something my brother said, long ago, and in another context, that if you catch your kid doing something, you can bet it wasn't the first time, just the first time you caught them. "You've been outside the house."

"Just a little..." she insisted. "And anyway, it was Chloe's fault, I wouldn't have gone if it wasn't for her. Besides, Mom said it was okay. She did it too."

"With that shit in her brain, she's not exactly the best judge, Bells!" She cringed a little at the tone in my voice, which made me feel guilty, but she had to know what a bad idea it was. "What did you do?"

"You know..." she said, seeming a little abashed. "Found some customers. We really needed some, it was like we were climbing the walls." Off my annoyed sigh, she added, "We did always wear masks." And at that, she had a bit of a smirk on her face, seeming to find a bit of dark amusement in this. I guess I could too, picturing the ten- and thirteen-year-old girls selling their asses in an alley to any comers, but still diligently wearing masks except when they had to give blowjobs had a certain comic appeal in the back of my mind... and another, darker kind of appeal in another area.

But a mental image isn't always as funny when you think it could actually be happening. "You've got to know you can't do this, Bells."

"You think I wanted to? But we ran out of flour and the stores didn't have any and what else were we going to do? At least I just kept it to some guys I know in the neighborhood, when Mom took us out..." She didn't finish the thought, and I didn't even want to imagine what perversity her sourdough-infested mother got them into. "And anyway, I was the one taking the most risk."

"What do you mean?"

"You know Dad's been comparing notes with his friends who are using the same starter, right? Well they say Chloe and Mom are immune to the virus out there, because of the yeast inside them. So he's not as worried about them going out." She broke into a grin. "It's kind of funny, really. The world's been going crazy waiting for a vaccine, but we already had one. Just with a few side effects."

I guess that made another thing my brother lied about. A lie by omission, at least... maybe he actually did catch Chloe trying to get out one time but apparently he got over it. "I don't think you can entirely trust they know what they're doing. This kind of thing is... too new." But if it was real, what would that change? It's not as though the world would accept a virus cure that turned women into literal whores. Would it?

"Well, I only did it because Chloe begged. Now Mom takes her out when she needs to. She says I don't charge enough. But, like, guys from school don't have much! You can't charge Vegas escort prices when all your best customers still get an allowance," she explained, in a defensive voice like I might make the same accusation. "Anyway, I don't even go out like that anymore. I don't want to risk it. If I get the virus, maybe I won't be able to fight off the yeast anymore... and I decided I don't really want to be like Mom and Chloe. I mean I want a sexy body but, like, I want to have normal sex sometimes too, you know? Without someone paying for it?" She bit her lip, looked down my waist, then up to my eye again. "You know, even if you're out of money, I could give you a freebie. It'll be fun." She leaned back, raised both her legs up to show the thong disappearing into her ass.

My recently spent dick twitched a little, but it was exhausted fucking my other underage niece. A decade ago or more, I'd have been rock hard again but I'm not as young as I used to be. This close to my last orgasm, there was no chance I could get it up again. So I tried to spare her feelings. "I don't want to get you in trouble with your parents."

She blew air dismissively in a "Pfft," lowered her legs again, and then elaborated, "I'm not like Chloe, I can decide who I want to sell to. Or not-sell to. If I want to give you something for free, it's my business. You said you wanted something next time, right? So why not right now?"

"Bells, you don't have to..."

"But I want to," she insisted. She sat up more fully, crossed her legs on the edge of the bed. "In fact this makes it better, that way you know I want to. I wanted to before quarantine started."

Okay, I thought my dick was exhausted and useless, but somehow it mustered to attention, a hollow, almost painful stiffness, but stiff nonetheless. "What?"

"I used to always have these... fantasies." She leaned forward again, resting her chin on her elbow and her elbow on her thigh, grinning like somebody sharing gossip. "About you, you know, molesting me. Like picking me up from school and then driving me somewhere in the middle of nowhere instead of going directly home. Calling me a good girl while you making me suck your cock, then threatening me so I wouldn't tell, but I didn't want to tell, I wanted to to keep doing more and more, being a good girl for you, until you had me trained to do every thing you wanted and I was just a dirty slut for you whenever you got me alone." She patted her bed. "I had my first ever orgasm right here, thinking about that." Then she clarified, "Before we got the sourdough starter. I mean, I knew you wouldn't actually do it, that's part of what made it so exciting. And I never would have told you. But... now things have changed, you know?" Her face lit up. "So you want to see what a good girl I can be?"

Yup, I was definitely hard. It was weird, back in the day, I called Bells a good girl a fair bit... nothing inappropriate intended, just positive reinforcement when she told me she'd done well in school or sports... or sometimes when she just did something I thought was funny to approve of. Like when she agreed with me instead of her father on what to order on a pizza, or gave the proper opinion on some television show I liked or disliked, I'd give her a 'good girl.' I did the same with her little sister. Apparently Bells was far more into the little term of endearment than I ever imagined. Before this latest revelation, I thought of her as still innocent, but she was growing up, and that meant slowly discovering sex and things that turned her on. It was only natural... I was masturbating before her age, although not to uncles praising me. I wonder if little Chloe would have developed along similar lines when her sexuality started awakening... if she wasn't already an all-out whore.

Still, there's knowing that intellectually, and there's being told something that you fundamentally weren't expecting. "You're saying you had a crush on me for..."

"Not a crush!" she insisted, wrinkling her nose as the hand she was resting her chin on dropped between her legs, like ready to play with herself, although she stopped short of that. "You're my uncle! That's weird. I just wanted you to make me do whatever sex stuff you wanted." Her shoulders wiggled. "So what do you say? I bet I'm better than Chloe. She only does it for the money." I didn't want to discourage her but Chloe's constant cumming on my cock, even if it was from holding the money rather than me, would probably be hard to beat.

But I guessed I was willing to give it a try. I mean I owed it to her, didn't I? I always did my best not to play favorites between my nieces. "I mean, as long as you promise I'm not going to get you in trouble..." Getting her to promise I wouldn't be in trouble seemed like a ship that had already sailed.

She grinned, biting her lip at the same time, pushed herself up off her bed and then slid off entirely so she could kneel down in front of me in some kind of proper subservient cocksucking position. She cupped my erection through my pants with her hand for a moment, and then pulled my zipper down, pulled everything down to about mid thigh, and took my bare cock in her hand, lay it on her cheek as though some instinctive demonstration of how far it would go in her mouth. I was fully hard but maybe not quite at my fullest, still, and fresh off a cum the contact actually hurt a little... just not enough to really make me want to stop, particularly when she drew back and opened her mouth, wrapping her lips around it and sucking me all the way down to the balls. I wondered if she could taste her little sister's pussy on me, but if she did, she gave no sign, just sucked me like her biggest goal was to make me cum.

Her eyes looked up at me like she did, no shame. With the lighting, her outfit, and the makeup she wore, it was almost easy to imagine this was a strip club private dance blowjob, but no disinterested stare, there was firm eye contact like she wanted me to be aware that it was my niece, and to know that I was. Though as her gaze continued, I thought I saw a little expectation, like she was waiting for something, and I suddenly remembered what she said about her fantasies, so I put my hand on her hair, stroked gently, and said, "Such a good girl." Her eyes wrinkled into a squint that I imagine was what was left of a thirteen-year-old girl's smile when your cock's filled her mouth. That somehow made it cuter than a regular smile, but maybe it was just bias.

But, after a second, she stopped moving, which worried me, at least until she reached up with one hand behind her head, placing her fingers on mine and pushing her own head back and forth. I got the hint... she wanted me to direct her, show her how I liked it... or maybe just wanted to be used.

If she had a kink like that, it was only fair that I indulge it, I decided. What kind of uncle would I be if I didn't take her desires into account? However bad I was for what I'd gotten into today, at least I wasn't that bad. So, I took a loose clump of her hair and pulled and pushed, probably slower than she would have gone if she was doing all the work, but I was still a little sensitive and wanted to enjoy the feel of sliding my cock along her soft tongue, her eager-to-please eyes looking up at me, and yes, the fundamental wrongness of the whole thing, the fact that I was breaking rules that were not meant to be broken and getting away with it... so far. I knew one day there'd be a price for it, but for now... I was using my niece's mouth for my own sexual pleasure, and, most erotic of all, she was letting me.

I pulled her back, off my cock, to give her a chance to breath through her mouth, though she kept her tongue out ready like a slide until I asked, "So, for this 'freebie' how good a girl are you willing to be for me?"

Her tongue withdrew, and she smiled, a bit of a smug look on her face like she knew how well she did, how she'd hooked me into asking for more than I intended... or maybe now she just expected every guy would do what they wanted, given the opportunity... but she had offered a freebie, and it's hard to turn down a bargain.

I got the answer I'd been hoping for, even if the words weren't exactly what I was expecting. "It's okay to treat me like a whore, Uncle Mike. It's what I am," she said. "Even if you're not paying for it this time, you get to decide what hole you cum in."

My heart broke a little. Even if she didn't seem bothered by what she just said, it still struck me as incredibly sad. Of course I still had a hard dick bobbing right at her lips, so I guess I wasn't that broken up about it. Still, I felt like, as her uncle, it was my duty to give her some confidence and self-worth for the future. "No, Bells, it's always up to you, even if someone's paying you money, you still set the boundaries you want. It's like those old signs, 'We have the right to refuse service to anyone.' Plenty of people sell only oral or only handjobs." I wasn't actually sure if that was true. My knowledge of whoring was somewhat limited. My impression of strip club ambiance was something more out of TV and movies than actual experience. Sure, I'd been to a few, but usually only when dragged by friends, paying for overpriced drinks to watch a woman dance for tips felt too much like an admission you couldn't see naked women any other way, and as for whores... I'd only paid for sex twice before that day. One time when I was nineteen in college, and a stripper at a bachelor party a few years later. And now, my sister-in-law and younger niece. Bells didn't count yet, since this was, as she said, a freebie. But I assumed some whores had firm lines they wouldn't cross and the two I tried who weren't members of my family insisted on condoms. "It's okay to want to be used and treated like you don't matter, but don't start believing it."

She flashed me a weak smile, and I wasn't entirely sure if she hadn't already started to believe it, but that concern faded when she stood, turned, and bent over in front of me, then, with one hand reaching back between her legs, pulled her thong aside, hiked her already short skirt just a little. Just underneath, between the globes of her ass, you could see her mound hanging out there, and a sweet bare crack, clean despite what else she might have done that day, with a cleft and a fold that looked like a cat's tongue sticking out and forming a U. With two fingers, she spread her pussy open, showing off the hole, glistening fluid clinging to both sides at once until it had to pick one side and drip down one or the other. Supporting herself on her bed with her other hand, and maybe using her toes to lift the high heels off the floor just a little, she made herself to be the perfect height if I wanted to fuck that tempting opening. "But I want you to treat me that way, Uncle Mike. It makes it hotter."

That seemed like a dangerous kink for an underage girl with a recurring, irresistible need to whore, but I had my own irresistible needs, and they were telling me to slam my cock into the offered hole. I put one hand on the small of her back over her skirt and pushed in, taking not just her spread pussy lips but also the surprising wetness there as a cue that she wanted it. No extra lube needed. Not as tight a fit as her little sister, but tightness isn't everything--I actually felt I preferred the feel of this pussy more, even thought to myself, I could get used to this.

She whimpered with what sounded like pleasure when I entered her, and she didn't seem to need to hold cash in hand to fully enjoy it, all of which mattered more to me. Though if I wanted to satisfy her, and I did, I might need to be a little more forceful than my normal inclinations. "That's a good girl," I said again, the magic words, which didn't seem to get old, inspiring a sigh as I pushed in deep, without as much fear of harming her as I had with Chloe, and only a little fear of friction burns from the thong which was rubbing against my too-sensitive cock as it tried to get into its proper place.

I must not have been hitting her kinks quite as hard as I'd like because instead of being swept up in the moment like I almost was she still seemed to be thinking about what I'd said earlier. "See, a real good girl does whatever you want. Like a good whore. Setting rules kind of ruins the fun."

"Well, if there's something you don't want to do," I said, thinking on the spot as I slowly fucked her, the urge to cum starting to feel like a possibility again, albeit one farther away than it would have been if I hadn't already so recently. "You can just blame it on your pimp I guess." Was the pimp her daddy, who took care of the sourdough, or was it the sourdough itself? I imagined her father, despite everything, still would prefer his daughter didn't sell herself so freely, and if she did, that she at least stuck to oral... he just hadn't been able to stop her when the urges from the sourdough starter started to get hungry. But I hoped she could control herself for her own sake.

"Or I could just let you be my pimp," she suggested, looking back over her shoulder at me. I gave her a little half-laugh, like she'd made a not-particularly-funny joke that I still wanted to acknowledge, but she said, "I'm serious, Uncle Mike, I could move in with you and be your private little whore. It would solve so many problems."

"I don't think it would be a good..." I started, but apparently the was an idea she was running with, and started moving her lower body, bucking back against me, whether to entice or shut me up or maybe just because she wanted the motion I couldn't say.

Didn't stop her from talking, though. "No, really. I mean if I lived with you I could go to school again--once they open up, I mean. Everyone here already kind of knows what a 'ho I was during quarantine... it'd be good to go somewhere I don't have a reputation."

Everyone knowing the kind of things she did just reminded me this entire house of cards was going to fall and hurt all of us, especially the adults in the equation. I wasn't sure how to bring that up. "Your parents..."

"They won't care," she insisted. She stopped moving again, suddenly. "I mean, Dad and Cam already have trouble keeping three whores with customers when they need them... that's why we had to start going outside the house anyway. And you could bring me to visit every once in a while too.

I couldn't bring myself to bring up the fact that we'd all be going to jail the moment this inevitably got out. That's really something her father should prepare her for. "Maybe we can discuss this a little later..."

"Oh, right... you want to cum. Sorry, I'm being such a bad 'ho, worrying you with my problems..." Her ass started moving again, and I could feel her pussy squeezing on me, trying to bring back the joy of fucking to an organ that was overridden by a brain concerned with more than just the moment. Cocks are stupid though, so it didn't really take much convincing to get me only wanting to get off, although not quite physically capable of getting there. To my surprise though, her next move was to pull away so that I was all the way out, and then turned around to face me. "Here," she said, and grabbed my hand, pulling me to her bed, though with my pants around my ankles I had to mostly shuffle. "I bet you'd like making me do all the work."

A bit of a change from wanting me to force her head down on my cock, but I wasn't going to complain. She guided me to sit down, then bent over to slide her thong finally to the floor. After kicking it aside, she helped me pull off my shirt, which really wasn't in the way but I was feeling a little overheated so the relief was welcome. Next came my pants, tugged off my legs entirely so that, if the need required, I could reposition myself much more easily. That done, she climbed onto my lap, wrapping one arm around my shoulder to steady herself as she got into position, then sank down on my cock, squeezing again, and then one more shift of position as my niece started riding me like a pro... which I guess she was, now. And although I'm not enough of a sexual connoisseur to evaluate her on a professional level, the enthusiasm, whether real or fake, was impressive. "See? Imagine having your own whore that can do this every day when you get home."

It sure would make the drudgery of a grocery store manager life easier to deal with. Not even just having someone around willing to drain my balls as necessary, but just having someone on hand to share the empty after-work hours with. I guess I'm a little bit of a softie... except my cock which was hard as a rock as my underage niece slid up and down like she wanted this, wanted me. That was her crowning achievement of whoredom, the act, and I had to assume it was an act, that there was more to this than just business. Some whores offer the so-called 'girlfriend experience' from what I understand, and this wasn't that, this was deeper, her face close to mine as though we might kiss at any moment, and the look in her eyes like she was hoping I would try.

It's intense, looking at someone like that, being in a position where kissing is a possibility, feeling her exhalations on my skin, my own breath reflecting back on me from hers. It's weird, since the pandemic really started getting serious, most of the time I've seen people, it's been with masks in the way, and Bells was now closer, and seemingly more intimate, than I'd been to anyone, even her little sister. If she was honest about always wearing masks while whoring, I might be the same for her, especially if she refrained from getting kissing-close to her brother and father, which was plausible. But for me, less than an inch of motion could have pressed my mouth against hers into a full on kiss, traditionally the taboo of whores. Sure as hell a taboo of uncles. For all I knew, it could even be her first real kiss. Dare I push my luck that far with my own niece?

In the end, I decided not to... it was unfair to spring it on her without asking her feelings, and besides, the unfulfilled fantasy was better than an outright rejection. Instead I just watched her face, measuring her enjoyment. I thought briefly of how much I'd always loved that... watching my nieces' faces while they experienced something fun and exciting, whether it was an amusement park roller coaster or some new delicious taste I'd exposed them to for the first time that maybe they'd continue to love the rest of their lives. It's one of the joys of being an uncle, and, I suppose, a parent, knowing you've given them pleasure... and I'd never considered it before, but it made a surprising amount of sense to expand to pleasures of the sexual kind. I got to watch as Bells experienced the new taste of her uncle's cock, and now the exciting ride on top of it, and by all I could divine, she was fond of both, maybe enough to want to make a lifelong habit of it. Her eyes squeezed shut suddenly and her breath caught for a few seconds, and her riding of me got decidedly bumpier both inside and out, and although she didn't make much sound, I felt sure she'd just had an orgasm, and that was especially mesmerizing to watch, and know I caused... not cash in her hand satisfying some yeast in her brain, but me, personally, bringing her the ultimate pleasure. Some growing part of me wanted to do that again and again. I'm sure there were plenty of monsters out there who molested kids just to selfishly satisfy their own urges, but now I wondered for the first time how many were tempted into it by their more noble instincts. Maybe, just as often as the purely selfish abusers, this is how it starts, a little bit of selfishness but combined with a greater portion of misguided altruism. Misguided being the key word, because whatever momentary pleasures couldn't make up for the pain that would inevitably come because of it.

Except, maybe, in cases like this. If Bells had already lived as a whore for who knows how many months, and still seemed to want it, how much worse could I do? Whatever bad outcomes were coming may still be ahead... but any pleasure I gave her in the meantime might not pile on top of them, but instead be like any other way I could make her time before that a little bit better, make her day just slightly brighter. And that's an uncle's duty, isn't it?

Probably that was just self-justification. I'm biased, obviously, but in my heart I honestly didn't know for sure anymore. What I did know is that when she finally opened her eyes again, her lips curled into a sultry smile, and then pulled herself closer, staring me in the eyes as she rode more controlled, feeling her soft breaths on my lips, making me think about reversing my decision and just going for a kiss that might not be unwelcome, might be what made things better for her, what it looked almost like she was barely holding herself back from doing herself because she wanted me to make that move, to claim her.

Again, I didn't. But the idea alone was enough to trigger my own long delayed, until-recently-thought-impossible, orgasm, and my body seemed to shudder as I emptied my balls in one of my underage nieces for the second time that day. The second time didn't feel as good but I savored Bells tight embrace as she sensed what was happening and, instead of going for that hypothetical kiss that I still didn't know was desired, pulled me aside to her neck while I squirted and she held on tight. My lips did press a few times against her skin there, but that's a different matter and, I don't think, unwelcome.

"That's a good girl," I said once more when I felt like I had breath again, stroking her hair gently as I said it, and then her sweat-sticky body pulled away from mine. Or maybe my body was the sweatiest. It did seem to be pretty hot in there.

"So, you liked it?" she asked, me still inside her, and her now holding me at arm's length but looking like she wanted to be at just the right distance to assess my honesty. I took another ragged breath and nodded. "Was it better than Chloe?"

It wasn't really fair to compare them. Both because they were two very different experiences--what with my sex with Chloe occurring while I was full of a potent mix of built up horniness and fear for my life, and fucking Bells while I was drained, both physically and emotionally--and because it was just mean to compare my two nieces on how good a fuck they were... even if I could make a choice the winner would inevitably make sure the other one knew about it. Sisters can be so competitive. So I tried to be diplomatic. "You're both very good."

Her handful of years of sibling competitiveness had also trained her to know when someone isn't going to play that game, since she seemed fairly satisfied with the answer I gave, hiked herself up so my now totally flaccid cock flopped to the sheets, then swung her leg up and around so that, after just a moment of sitting sideways on my lap, she stood up. She looked over her shoulder at me and wiggled her butt on her way to fetch her clothes (or at least her thong, for she never removed her sports bra top or short skirt), which inspired me to go a little bit further. "I will say that's the best free sex I've had."

A smug breath huffed out of her, and then, bent down with thong in hand, she said, "Well, next time you better bring enough for both of us, that's your last freebie." Bells looked at me over her shoulder and with a smirk added, "At least, unless I move in with you. I mean if you're my pimp you'd technically get it for free. I mean you might need to pay but you'd get it right back."

"I don't think that's going to be as easy as you make it sound," I said, realizing as the words left my mouth that I was giving her the impression that this was something I wanted. There was a light in her eyes at me even considering the possibility. "I'd need to have a long talk with your father." The light didn't dim... it was as if she had faith that I could convince her father to let me take her off his hands. I didn't see that as likely, but the fact remained... "I mean I have to, regardless."

"Okay. I should get myself cleaned up anyway." Bells looked down at herself, assessing the damage, like a teenage girl worried her outfit might have been messed up, only in this case messed up by some loose cum or tossed askew by energetic sex. Still, in that self-conscious action, she looked shorter, more fragile and innocent, I thought, and then noticed that sometime while she was riding me, her heels fell off her feet. Not quite knocking her socks off, but made me weirdly proud nonetheless. And certainly the extra innocence was only an illusion, for once she satisfied her outfit was mostly okay, she aimed her front at me, looked down, and with the hand that wasn't holding her thong and pulling up her skirt she spread the lips of her still-swollen pussy, brazenly letting a little dribble of white leak out. "If I wasn't on the pill you could have got me pregnant." Her eyes met mine, added, "Then you'd kind of own me, you know." She seemed to take a devilish glee either at the thought or my own expression which I assume was blind panic. "But I'm careful. You need to use the bathroom first?" I shook my head, and she started off, naked, clothes in hand.

I took a long steadying breath, got myself composed and dressed again, and headed back downstairs.


My brother was sitting on his favorite chair, sipping a Coke I brought in his grocery care package, and as I slowly made my way down the stairs he looked up at me wordlessly, though plenty of words seemed like they should have been obligatory... angry shouts, threats of murder, something along those lines. After all, this man probably just listened to me having sex with both of his underage daughters, his prides and joys. He used to be the kind of guy who'd confront someone who happened to have his phone pointed in their direction for too long at a public location, but that version of him died sometime in quarantine. Now he was someone new, someone who set me up in a situation where I'd committed crimes as bad as him, which should have filled me with righteous fury, but a part of me had died and been reborn too. So we just looked at each other, until finally he said, "You want to talk out on the back porch? Get some fresh air?"

My first thought was that fresh air wasn't going to make any difference, but then I realized it potentially might, if whatever chemicals that malevolent sourdough starter had been spewing into the air were lessened, somehow, it might be an ideal place to clear our heads... but on the other hand, he just might want the conversation to be private, where his kids couldn't hear the thing we both knew but hadn't addressed.

"Sure," I said, and followed him out. The fresh air did help, at least psychologically... it was like I was emerging from some dark perverted underworld into reality again, where things were bright, and I felt more like myself, the self I believed I was before today. Of course it didn't fundamentally change anything... there's a reason the phrase 'the harsh light of day' exists, too. Even on a nice day, a pleasant breeze running through your hair, certain facts were still in the forefront of my mind.

"I'm sorry, Mike," my brother said and his eyes were soft and had an almost pleading quality to them. "I would have preferred you never got involved in this at all." I wonder if he was just as sorry about what Isabelle implied, that he forced me into the situation where I had to have sex with his preteen daughter to stop her from trying to kill me... or if that was swallowed up in the broader apology.

"I think it's safe to say I'm involved now. I'm just as screwed as you are." He winced slightly, but didn't seem surprised at my assessment. "I mean how exactly do you see this playing out? We're going to jail. You realize that, right?"

"Probably," he agreed, which didn't quite sound like an agreement. "You might not. Nobody has to know you were involved... I'm pretty sure I can get Mandy and the kids to keep you out of it when the shit hits the fan."

The kids might. If the girls felt the same way about it in a few months as they seemed to now, if they didn't hate me for taking advantage. His wife? "You really think Mandy's going to defend me if the cops start pressing? She hates me." Or at least she never acted like she particularly liked me. Granted, the last time we interacted she seemed a lot easier to get along with but then I was paying her for sex with her youngest daughter. But I didn't expect that feeling to last.

"She didn't like you at first, yeah, but that's all the past, and it's the future we're talking about here. Because I might go to jail, and she might go to jail too, and if that happens, you're the best chance of Chloe and Bells and Cam staying out of some shitty foster home." Mandy's parents were dead, just like mine, and she didn't have any siblings. So yes, if I avoided getting dragged into jail myself, I would be the logical next guardian.

Which reminded me. "Bells seems to want to come live with me already."

His eyes widened slightly, and then looked down to absent-mindedly peel at the label of his drink. "That might not be a bad idea, actually, it could really help out a lot." I wondered if telling him she wanted to be my private whore would change his opinion. "Might buy us a little bit of time, at least. We can keep Chloe homeschooled and Isabelle, well, she obviously can't keep going to hers, but she should go to a real school while she can. You live in a pretty good neighborhood, once everything opens up again, I'm sure that'd be fine."

"Fine?" I asked, my voice straining nearly into hysteria. "Do you have any idea how many people already know what both of your very underage daughters have been doing for money?" Another guilty look that told me he was aware of at least a little more than what he told me before. "Sooner or later, someone's gonna talk. Or notice Chloe looks like she's gotten a whore makeover... not to mention the boobs she got because she ate some raw starter." He looked up at that, maybe surprised that I knew about that. "You can't keep something like this a secret forever!"

"I thought I could," he said sadly. "I mean as long as it stayed under this roof, maybe we could have kept it a family secret. That was the plan. Just wait for everything to open up again, destroy the starter when everyone was far enough away not to notice, find some anti-yeast medication to clear up whatever's inside Mandy and Chloe's brains, or guts, or whatever, and hope things returned to almost normal. But then the fucking shortages happened and the starving sourdough made them whore-crazy and they broke outside the bubble, and yeah, now too many people know, at least a little bit of it. Now the only thing I can do is play for time."

I shook my head. "Just enjoy it while it lasts?" I asked. "That's your solution?"

"No. Stall. Stall and..." He kept his head down but looked up at me with just his eyes. "Spread the starter around."


"You know as well as I do that we had no choice in this." That was debatable. "But if child protective services or the cops come sniffing around because they heard my little girls were whores, or trading sexual videos for money, or that my wife was helping, and... Christ, all they need to do is test DNA stains on the bedsheets to confirm I was involved." My DNA was on those bedsheets too, now, probably. "You think anyone's going to believe that I didn't want to do it, my daughters are whores because of fucking sourdough?" He shook his head, answering his own question. "But if it's part of a trend, another fucked up pandemic going around... maybe they'll still lock us up if it's only a few dozen people, but what if it's five, ten percent of the population? What are they going to do, lock up ten percent of the parents in the country? Leave that many women, children, asking everyone they know to buy a piece of ass? Eddie thinks if it gets widespread enough, the country will have to just adapt, maybe regulate it, put some limits on it, but just accept that some people, even some kids, will be stuck with a biological need to sell sex, and decide that, since there's always been people who want to buy it, that maybe there should be no shame on those who do."

"I don't think society's going to bend that far."

"Maybe not, but... attitudes do change. Prostitution used to be just accepted by society, you know? Not just not illegal, but in a lot of places even respected... hell, sometimes prostitutes worked for religion, living in temples, honored. Maybe our time is the aberration, and it's just about run its course. Eddie actually thinks prostitution used to be accepted because this starter's been part of human development throughout history, co-evolved with our society, a symbiotic relationship... only something happened. Once people were keeping yeast strains going on their own, and prostituting on their own, this particular strain of starter just started dying out, or mutating into forms that made better bread but wasn't as psychoactive. Then laws and religion started coming down hard, and those who had the pure yeast, the original strain, couldn't keep it going. Maybe that Old West whorehouse had the last sample in the world, or maybe there are other pockets lurking about, but either way, society had already shifted their attitudes towards prostitutes and the entire world became more sexually repressed in the process. But he thinks if we spread the sourdough around enough, when it becomes public maybe we'll push attitudes back to how it used to be, whores who are happy to be whores, and no shame."

"And you want to bring about this... this Brave New World?" I read the book in high school, so I knew the term was used ironically. I hoped my brother would too, since he was always more of a nerd than me. "Even if it means your own kids, your wife, are whores?"

"I sure as hell don't want to go to jail. And besides, times being as they are, being whores might be the safest thing for them. You remember the problems Chloe had? But since she took the raw sourdough, and she started changing, she's healthy as a..." he smirked as he realized what he was about to say, what it sounded like, and just finished that way, "as a whore. Eddie says the other thing the whorehouse was known for was being basically untouched during a smallpox outbreak, the whores were drafted as nurses when the rest of the town was laid out. When the yeast gets in someone's system, permanently, we think it also fights off other infections, like an in-born antiviral." I knew some of this, of course, but he didn't know Bells filled me in, and it was worth a reminder. "That could be a good thing, for some people. Who knows when the next pandemic will hit? Natural, man-made, it could break at any moment. Maybe it'll be even worse... maybe society needs a large group of people permanently protected like this."

I wasn't so sure that was a good justification. Sure, a killer virus could pop up unexpectedly but there were usually centuries between serious ones. And I had a feeling that the next pandemic might be the spreading of this sourdough starter, and the effects it has on unaware women driven by an irresistible urge to have sex for money.

My brother wasn't wrong, though, society could change in big ways, remarkably quickly. After all, in just a matter of months we went from a society that shook hands and packed convention halls to one where we stood six feet apart and wore masks inside every store... maybe a whore pandemic really could change our collective attitudes towards sex, make everything I'd done today, even sex with children, just part of the norm. Did I want that, or to try to stop it?

We sat in silence, drinking, processing this idea, this new world that might be being born as the starter spread right under our noses, whether it might be worse than a world without it. I tried to imagine this new culture overtaking the world, how so much would have to be different. It could be real, if enough people were sharing their sourdough secrets. "How many people are out there, using the starter now?"

"I don't know, exactly. I just talk to a few of the original group, I'm not in on any secret committee meeting. Like I said, I was just going to try and ride out the pandemic and then hope things could get back to almost normal." As normal as you can get if your family's crossed the incest barrier, I guess. "But I know a few have shared it already, and if those people each shared some..." He left the thought unfinished, except to say, "I'm sure you heard a lot about exponential growth with the pandemic talk... well, a sourdough starter can spread just as fast, you can double it every day if you want to and pass it to someone else. And an idea, a lifestyle? That can spread even faster." He took a breath and a sip. "I just hope it's spreading fast enough that it gives me some kind of excuse. You too. I don't need the world to change, I just don't want my family to blow up even more than it has. But if the world needs to change for that to happen? I'm okay with that, y'know? This isn't some sexual fantasy come to life for me."

"It isn't?"

His eyes met mine briefly, the 'I should have known I couldn't bullshit you' look family sometimes gets, and he said, "Well. Not one I'd admit to, or ever try to make happen, if I wasn't forced. And some I wasn't even aware of until after. But you seemed to be pretty willing to hop in bed with my daughters so, you know, glass houses." Fair point. "And I'm not sure it's just us guys, either. I'm honestly not sure if Mandy's been enslaved by the sourdough or if it's freed her to be who she always wanted and forced me to be the husband she always wanted."

Remembering her dismissive tone I pointed out, "She doesn't sound especially satisfied with you."

"That's because I've been failing... I'm supposed to take care of things, but I couldn't function as the breadwinner without stuff to make bread. But other than that? The starter might make women more submissive, or maybe more of them crave that than I would have expected. I don't know. Either way, stuck together in lockdown, we should have been driving each other crazy, but we weren't. Sure the sex helped, and her not being so irritable every month certainly made a big difference, but it wasn't just that. We've actually been getting along better than we had in years.... it was only after the shortages started that she started getting a bit sour on me." As should be obvious, a sour 'ho could be a lot of trouble. "As long as the supply chains don't get interrupted again, I think she'll start to be happy again... and then it's just a matter of satisfying the whore urge safely. And, trying to keep a lid on things. You could help out with both of those things. But I understand if you just want to walk away."

After another lengthy silence, I said, "I guess... I could maybe take Isabelle in for a while, if it actually would help."

My eyes drifted upward as I heard a soft "Yes!" from somewhere in the vicinity of one of the kids' bedrooms, proving that our private conversation wasn't quite so private. I just hoped that our voices didn't carry as far as the neighbors. Unless the neighbors already had their starter. Who knew, really?

"Not full time, mind you," my brother said, raising his voice as though intended for her ears as well, before reverting to his normal level. "She's still my daughter, her mother and I want to see her, and Cam and Chloe will want to see their sister from time to time, too. But maybe she can live with you during the week while going to school and you can bring her back on weekends. And believe me, you're going to want that time to yourself... to get a break from the Kpop if nothing else. She plays that all the time."

A dark part of me remembered the submissive side she showed and wondered if I could train loving Kpop out of her. But I pushed it down. I might treat her like a sex toy but she deserves her own taste in music. And how bad could it be?

I wasn't even absolutely sure I was going to be having sex with her... yes, a big part of me wanted it, but I was also prepared to accept if, away from the influence of the starter, if she lost all interest in sex, to just give her the chance to be herself again, a kid again, make her own decisions about her body and how to feel about what had happened. I may not be able to change what already happened between us, but that didn't mean I had to let the future be decided by that, and really, despite everything I've done, at heart, I want everyone to have the freedom to make their own choices.

At least, that's what I told myself before we went back inside, to "break the good news" to Bells--officially, anyway, even though she already knew--and we found her in the kitchen, dressed in yet another outfit (this one tights and a blouse, the most conservative thing I've seen her in today), and she was pouring flour through a funnel into a jar that once used to contain strawberry jam. The original jar of starter also sat nearby, though the amount inside was noticeably less... about half.

"What are you doing?" I asked, although I had an idea already.

"If I'm going to move in with you, you'll need your own sourdough starter."

"Whoa," I said. I threw a book back to my brother, who gave me a shrug, like 'what did you expect?' "First off, this isn't happening right away. I'll have to make up a room for you." I had a second room I used for storing junk I'd collected and never gotten rid of over the years, maybe this would finally be an excuse. Or maybe I'd just spread it out among the other rooms.

"Oh," she said. "I assumed I'd just sleep in your bed."

That made me look to my brother again, and got another of his shrugs, so I guess I had to be the responsible one. "No, you'll have your own room." To show other people, if nothing else.

Finally, my brother spoke, said, "Give him a little time to adjust, Bells, it's a big change. It'll be before school starts, anyway."

My niece seemed to consider, then went to stir the flour into the jar. "Well, you'll still need your own starter," she decided. "So you get used to how to take care of it."

"Yeah, it's pretty easy, but there are certain ground rules," Ben said. "For one thing, you're going to want to feed it a little every day so it doesn't go into defense mode. More if you're baking with it. It doesn't respond well to refrigeration, either... it'll probably survive but you'll want to be careful who you open it around. And don't let this one drink any of the raw starter either." He tousled his oldest daughter's hair.

She looked exasperated with him, as many daughters her age perpetually seem, and said, "Da-ad... I don't even want to."

"Unless this damned virus mutates and starts coming back and she takes sick," he clarified. "Better she get changed than die. You should talk to us first, though, that kind of thing should be a family decision. But... you're not going to want to drink any of it yourself, no matter how sick you get. Probably, anyway."

That got me curious again. "Why, what happens?" If my theory about the chemicals causing men to behave with less inhibitions was true, at least it might help with my conscience.

"Nothing, maybe. Your immune system might fight it off. But if it takes hold in you like it sometimes does, like it'd probably have to, to fight off other viruses?" I waited for the punchline. "Well, you know how it only works on women?" I nodded. "And you know how when Chloe got it she started developing her, uh... womanly features? Well, some of the other users have found that it pumps out feminizing hormones... and after a while on them, a very feminine-looking guy'll react to the other chemicals like any other girl, too." I shuddered at the picture, me as a girl, unable to stop from selling my ass. "Yeah, there's a reason I do my best to keep Cam from getting sick." Would he treat his feminized son the same way he treats his whore daughters? Would I?

"I think he'd look cute as a girl, personally," Bells said. I hoped she meant her brother. "Anyway, it's totally safe once you've baked with it. Do you know how to bake, Uncle Mike?"

I'd never really tried before. Even in the thick of the supply shortages... well, working at a grocery had some advantages. "I'm not sure I want to take that into my home with me at all." And not just because of those secondary effects.

My niece pouted and I almost gave in right there. "But I like the bread and stuff. And my monthly cramps aren't nearly so bad since I started eating it." Ben had mentioned Mandy not being irritable every month as well. Another part of the complicated symbiosis, I wondered, that had women continuing to eat the bread, becoming slaves to the starter's chemicals, even knowing what it cost them and their dignity? Better bodies, immunity to disease, easier periods... I wondered how many out there would willingly take on a life of whoring knowing those benefits. Not to mention guaranteed enjoyable sex, as long as you got to hold the cash. "Also, you know, if I go to school in your area, I might want to bring friends by, and I should have something to feed them, right?"

"But then they'd..."

"People in glass houses can't throw stones, right?" Echoing the words of her father, earlier. "Can't call me a 'ho if they offered to do stuff for my uncle for money, right?"

"It's worth thinking about," my brother agreed. "Like I said, the more this behavior spreads, the better. And anyone who eats it will probably think it's their idea, selling themselves, at least the first few times. If there's ever someone you wanted a shot with, that goo and a little baking skill is your backstage pass."

This suggestion was almost more astounding than everything else that day, than learning my brother had been having sex with both of his daughters, than that he was okay with me doing the same. That, maybe I could excuse it like an alcoholic falling off the wagon. You know you shouldn't have done it, but the temptation was too great, but once you had the first drink, you can't go back and undo it, you've already fucked up, so why not enjoy it? They might not have chosen it to start with, but if his daughters were now happy being his whores, continuing to use them may be a sin, but it's a familiar sin, one you could justify to yourself. And, if both Ben and Bells were okay with it, I could even see myself keeping my niece in bread. But this, suggesting I use the starter on random women I wanted to fuck, not caring that they might not be into it out of their own free will... that was a dark change in character from my brother who was the kind of guy who looked down at me for making admittedly over-the-line jokes about women.

And yet...

I couldn't help but picture this hot neighbor lady, and living out a long-held fantasy of fucking her brains out in the building's laundry room... and adding a part I'd never consciously included before, her preteen daughter licking my cock while I did. A little offer of homemade bread made with the jar of yeast in my hand could make that fantasy happen. Maybe not in the laundry room, though, there are open windows there. Or for that matter, there were plenty of vibrant teenage girls working the cashiers at my grocery store, I could bring some homemade sourdough cookies or something and give them a ride home and see if that inspires them to make some kind of outrageous offer to earn a bit more cash than minimum wage.

Was this the inevitable moral slide that came with power nobody should have? Maybe this yeast was going to change the world into something unrecognizable... or, maybe it was just going to change me, but either way, this jar of starter in my hand was... well, how it was going to start. If I accepted it.

Obviously, I took the jar... put it where I left my shoes, so I wouldn't forget it. That's why I'm writing this, too, keeping it somewhere safe, to not forget, some kind of duty to history. Maybe a new world will read it and understand some of what led us here, figure out a way to reverse it if it's all gone wrong. Or maybe the world will keep going the way it's gone for the last few hundred years, and this'll be Exhibit A at my trial. If so, I probably deserve it.

I can control myself though, I thought, still think. Fight off the worst temptations. Having my own live-in teen whore would help with that. I wouldn't have to use it on anyone who doesn't want it... except maybe friends Bells invites over, so she's not the only whore in school, because that's for her, more than me. I might not want to abuse the power the starter offers, but if it's about protecting my family... well, it seems like that's the yeast I can do.

O brave new world, and this is how it starts.

The End

Disclaimer: Any justifications made for sex with underage girls are purely to service the story and should not be taken as endorsement for similar acts in reality.

This story is free to share and distribute so long as no money is charged.

AnonyMPC's Lazy Sourdough Crackers Recipe


- 3/4 cup PERFECTLY NORMAL sourdough starter

- 2 tablespoons melted butter

- 2 teaspoons (or more or less to taste) salt... sea salt's great if you've got it but I'm not fancy.

- various seasonings as desired


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