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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 »