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“Homer!  Please, stop!” Lisa winced in agony.

  Lisa Simpson was crying out her rage and her pain.  Her rage because she was useless to stop the fiendish acts of Homer.  She was too petite in front of his 200 pounds.  And her pain because he was raping her.

  It had all started when she was only 5 years old.  Back then, she still looked up to him, he seemed to be there when she needed him the most, even if he was quite irresponsible.  She loved him.  He loved her for more then that.  Actually, love wasn’t the right word.  Homer just used her body for release.  He didn’t like Lisa Simpson the person; only body she had.  That’s why one warm summer night, he had come into her room.

  Marge had left with her sisters to see a show and said she would only be coming back the day after.  Homer had then decided to make Lisa into a woman, moreover, his woman.  He had entered into her room with out a word.

  “Hey dad!  What are you…”

  He had thrown her on the bed, had removed her nightgown and immediately starting sucking her private parts.  She didn’t like it at all, she was afraid him.  She kept asking Homer to stop, hitting his head with her small fists when he refused.  He hit her back in the face, hard, making her cry out. 

  The walls had no ears to hear her plea.  On that warm summer day, Lisa had not become a woman, she had become a victim, the victim of a lewd and perverted man.  Since then, Homer had taken advantage of her every time he could: when Marge was out, when he was alone with her, even late at night when she was sleeping.  There was no escaping his monstrous cock, the symbol of her nightmare. Read the rest of this entry »