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    It had been a month since the night Milhouse had toyed with Bart in his sleep and Lisa awaked.  Since then, he had not had the opportunity to have sex again, with them or anyone else, even though Bart had slept at his house only a week ago.  Milhouse had to resort to hand, but it was getting tiresome.  After having a feel of both Simpson kids, he craved for more.   Bart had quickly forgotten his strange wake of a month ago, but Lisa hadn’t.  She had remained somewhat distant of him however.  The sex had been good, but she was only interested in playing with Milhouse, not actually dating him.  But even from afar, she could tell Milhouse wasn’t only interested in her.  She noticed the glances he gave her brother’s butt and crotch area, even though Bart didn’t.  Maybe she could do them both.

   Everyday of summer seemed the same for Bart.  Not that it was a bad thing.  He liked to spend his days roaming around Springfield, with his trusty sidekick Milhouse at his side.  Playing video games, blowing stuff up, watching Itchy and Scratchy… it was the good life.

   Milhouse had been invited to stay for the night at the Simpsons, again.  This time, Homer and Marge would be gone until late into the evening however.  Lisa had managed to convince her dad that they deserved a vacation and that she could baby-sit Bart. Read the rest of this entry »

“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 »

            As Bart loaded his bag, in the car, he couldn’t help but complain again.  He didn’t want to be up so early, didn’t want to go camping and certainly didn’t want to go there alone with his father for a whole day and night.  He couldn’t blame Homer however. It wasn’t his idea after all, it was his mom’s.

            “Please Bart, do it for me,” she had said with her pleading eyes, the ones which no son could resist but agree to.

            Homer had complained as well and Marge had dealt with him as well.  It was ironic that the camping idea was meant for father and son to bond, when the one thing they did agree to was that they weren’t interesting in camping alone together.

            But having agreed to it and with no way to back out of it, they had left home fairly early on Saturday, both men grumpy and complaining to each other.  Homer didn’t trust the boy and knew that he would have to watch his back with his son around.  There was no anticipating what devilish plot Bart might come up with to torture him.  It was Bart’s favourite pastime it seemed and Homer his favourite victim.  But for the moment at least, the boy was sleeping on the passenger seat.  Getting up early on a weekend is never easy for a ten year old after all.

            It took little over an hour before the Simpson men arrived at their designated camp site.  Marge had chosen a peaceful forest spot for them rather then public camping grounds.  She said that being completely alone together without opportunities to meet and socialise with other people would help the bonding.  Also, she secretly wanted to avoid giving Bart any opportunity to humiliate his father in public. 

            As Homer stopped the car, Bart woke up and yawned loudly.  He looked around and was surprised to find the area to his liking.  The camping spot was a clearing surrounded by tall trees and as the boy opened the door, he heard a small river not too far in the distance.  A circle of stones was set on the ground, the remains of another camping family no doubt.  As he stretched, his father opened the trunk to bring out the tent and other camping gear.  The food would remain in the car, to avoid attracting any wild animals.

            Homer laid out the schematics for the tent and studied them for a moment.  “Alright, so if I put this here…” he said as he planted a stake in the ground to set the tent, “and I put this one here… and I attach this here…”  One could almost believe that he knew exactly what he was doing; ‘almost’ being the key word.  Bart knew his father well enough to know that he was basically guessing and not really thinking through his methods. As he planted the last stake, Homer took a step back to look at his work.  Three full seconds later, a small gust of wind brought it swiftly to the ground, to Bart’s laughter… Read the rest of this entry »

cute Lisa simpson from artist.

Dreams come true

   ‘It’s a good thing Homer isn’t here,’ Lisa thought as she played the blues on her saxophone.  She had not felt well today at school and hoped that her instrument would help soothe her as it often did, but today it failed at the task.  She had too much on her mind to let the music reach her heart.  Even when she tried to do some homework to push her ill thoughts aside, she simply couldn’t concentrate and had taken the surprising decision to put it aside.  Besides, she knew Mrs. Hoover wouldn’t mind since after all, Lisa was the best student in class and even without the home work, would be able to score straight As.
The ordeal had started the day before, as Lisa was cruising on her sax, deciding to play one last song and then write in her diary.  When she played, she didn’t always consciously choose a song; sometimes she just let her fingers play by themselves and choose by themselves, almost as if the song were her master rather then the opposite.  That night, she played a song by the late Bleeding Gums Murphy, one of her mentors and best friends.  The soft rhythm had made her a bit melancholic and as she blew the last note, a tear in her eye, she had thought: ‘that was for you Bleeding Gums.’  She had then turned her head to the album of the artist she had, Sax on the Beach.
        Even after so long, Lisa still couldn’t believe that she actually owned the very rare album.  And more surprising was that her brother Bart had been the one to buy it for her in an unexpected selfless act. Just thinking about the circumstances, how he had been lucky to have that much money but still decided to spend it on her, brought another tear to her eye.  Neither sibling had told anyone about the gesture, Bart wanting to keep the generous act a secret for some obscure reason.
        She put the saxophone aside, her brother still the center of her train of thoughts.  ‘Then again, I don’t really understand him.  No one does.’  Every time Lisa thought she had him all figured out as a bad boy, Bart seemed to pull off a selfless caper which threw her off completely.  Even their mother didn’t completely understand the boy but of course she still loved him all the same.  After a while, Lisa accepted that to comprehend Bart would require more than simple deductive reasoning.  Maybe…
        Bart was disappointed.  Sitting on his bed, in the room adjacent to his sister’s, he had been listening to the song for many minutes now.  Although he would never admit it to a soul, he loved to hear Lisa play her saxophone and tonight especially since the notes seemed to reflect the melancholy of his soul.  He hated that he had to hide his emotions like that to the world lest he wouldn’t get the respect he needed to survive school.  But survival wasn’t a choice, it was a necessity and along the years, he had at times acted a bit too extreme for the people around him and his family.  Those extremes still helped his case at school, but it did come at a price.
        But under all of his misdeeds, Bart hid true and pure emotions.  Some part of the untameable bad boy act was his true personality, but he still had a certain desire for peace and certainly did not want to make his family and friends miserable.  He could never forget what had happened during hockey game opposing him to his sister who served as goal tender to the other team.  The opposing team had roughed up one of their players and Bart had been offered a penalty shot.  To the outside world, it had seemed like a simple game opposing two teams in the junior series finale.  For the Simpson family however, it was able a brother and sister out for blood on the ice.  This penalty shot would determine the victor.
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Prologue

***

“You sexy thing, sexy thing. I believe in miracles…”, sang the radio along with a happy Homer, driving home from work. He parked the car and entered him home. The kids were watching TV and Marge was taking meals out of the oven. Having heard the door close, she shouted “Kids! Diner!” That night, the Simpsons were having chicken, except Lisa of course, who was having tofu.

-So then, Bart said, Mrs. Krabapple turned to the board and I used my last elastic to hit her glass of coffee, which made it tip and fall over our exams. I guess we’ll have to do it again, but now, I know what to study.

-And you, what did you do?

-We received the notes from our last exam. I got an A++… but of course, Alison had an A+++. Stupid Alison, Lisa said under her breath.

-Oh, Homer started, by the way honey, Mr. Smithers is coming to visit us tonight. He says he wants to talk about something important concerning the family. He didn’t mention what though.

***

Later that evening, Waylon Smithers arrived. They all sat in the dinning room, except Maggie who was sleeping upstairs.

-Ok, as I come here, know that this doesn’t concern your job at the power plant. This is on my own terms. Even Mr. Burns doesn’t know. Actually, this might be the one thing he doesn’t know about me.

They all looked at each other, meaning “yeah, that and the fact that you’re gay.”

-I come with a proposition. I’ve interacted quite often with your family and find it quite charming. On my time off, I built a company, Snurb Corporation, which is registered and legal. Officially, it researches pharmaceutics products, but it never saw the light of any medical stuff. Actually, it deals with underground pornography.

He waited until their obvious shock passed. They always are, he thought, but they always see the light.

-I very well understand your reaction, but believe me, it’s not as bad as it sounds.

-Get to the point, said Bart.

Waylon took a deep breath before blurting out the whole truth about why he was there.

-Homer, I would like you and your family to make pornographic videos.

Marge’s voice covered the rest: WHAT?!

-I understand your concern Mrs. Simpson, and…

-And nothing! I want you out of my house, NOW!

-Please, if you would just let me explain.

-Homer, show him the door. She didn’t shout anymore, but her voice was ice cold. Homer had rarely seen her so angry and he knew the best was to obey, for the time being at least.

-This way Mr. Smithers.

Homer followed Smithers to his car.

-Well, I’ve got your wife’s answer, but what did you thing, Homer?

-I don’t know… how much does it pay?

-5000 dollars for your first movie, if it’s what I’m interested in.

-5000?! That’s a lot of money!

-And easy money too… Look, I see your wife in the window looking at me and quite frankly, I’m scared of her. Here’s my card, call me on my beeper anytime, day or night.

Smithers slipped a card to Homer before taking off in his red convertible. Homer hummed while looking at the card, reading: Waylon Smithers, CIO of Snurb Corporation.
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