Prick Van Winkle

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1-2 | 3-4 | 5-6 | 7-8 | 9-10 | 11-12 | 13-14 | 15-16 | 17-18
19-20 | 21-22 | 23-24 | 25-26 | 27-28 | 29-30 | 31-32 | 33-Epilogue

Chapter 5

Thankfully, by the time Betty had decided that there might still be some clothes left in a box that her son had left behind, and that they might fit Bob, and June had found a blouse and a pair of jeans that fit her, and Bob had managed to drink two more cups of coffee, his penis was behaving itself again.

With a stern warning directed at June not to "do something stupid" Betty marched out the door, presumably to go get the clothes she hoped would fit her father. She left Fran there saying, oddly enough, "Watch your Auntie June." and disappeared.

June had many of the same questions for him that Betty and Fran had, and he was content to let Fran answer some of them while he examined this new woman in his life. She was healthy and what, fifty years ago, he would have called "well preserved". He had never found himself attracted to older women, his young wife giving him all the loving and more that he could have desired. But his memories of this woman's alto voice, and what went along with that voice, caused him to look at her much more frankly than he might have otherwise. Her animated personality, and vivaciousness made her seem much younger than the fifty-three years of age he knew she had to be. He was startled to realize that her birthday was only two days away. He resolved to get her a present of some kind.

While they talked Fran went to the phone and made two calls. Her voice was excited, but muffled. She was grinning when she hung up the phone and returned to the kitchen, where Bob had decided to stay, just in case something happened "down there" again. He felt refreshed, though even so small a breakfast had filled him to the point that he felt slightly bloated. He figured that his stomach must have shrunk during fifty years of being empty.

A car door slammed outside. Soon after Betty opened the door, her arms loaded with clothing. As she reached to shut the door there was the screech of tires and two more car doors slammed shut. There was the sound of excited voices... young female voices... as Betty turned, her face agitated.

"It's the girls." she announced.

"I called them." said Fran smugly.

"You shouldn't have!" barked Betty. "It's too soon for him to have so much excitement!"

She was almost bowled over, as she tried to block the doorway. She was pushed into the room by a tall black-haired girl and a shorter girl with dark red hair.

"Where is he?" they chorused together. Their eyes found him, still sitting at the kitchen table, bare chested, his level gaze examining them.

Bob was pretty well in control of himself. The food had helped, and his mind was clearer now than it had been since he awoke. There were only three female voices he'd heard while he slept that hadn't been matched up with women. One, he knew was Martha's voice, which was older. The other two had to be the voices that had announced themselves to the sleeping man... on many occasions... as Becca and Val. He now remembered two voices saying they were Val. His mind had separated them simply as his wife, and the other Val. He now suspected, based on what he had already learned, that one of these two young women was that other Val.

The two young women skidded to a stop as they saw the man at the table. For all their excitement as they had entered, they were now frozen and mute. Betty shook her head and closed the door behind them.

His initial impressions of the girls were based mostly on appearance. The taller of the two had jet black hair that was long and straight, falling well past her shoulders, and held back with something. She was thin in the waist, and was wearing a pair of pants that flared outward at her ankles, like the bell bottoms sailors wore when he was a young man. But the resemblance ended there. The ones worn by this woman were so tight that if she had a bee sting on her ass, the swelling would show through. They were also low slung to the point that he wondered how she kept them up. Her shirt looked like a T shirt that the lower half had been cut off of. Her breasts pushed that shirt out so that it would have been easy to reach up under it and grab handfuls of... what was pushing them out. He could see skin from just below those thrusting breasts all the way to where he would have expected to see the start of pubic hair. He couldn't tell how old she was, but she was obviously older than the red head and Fran. Her high cheekbones and the lack of anything resembling fat on her face gave her a mature worldly look.

The red head had on loose shorts and what looked like a man's shirt. The tails had been tied in a knot between and below her breasts. The shirt was too big for her and was loose, but he could tell that she was well developed for a girl in her mid to late teens. Her hair was in a loose braid, but a lot of it had fallen out, giving her a wild windblown appearance. She looked like she spent a lot of time outdoors because her skin had a nut brown color, like June's and was darker than that of the others.

Bob felt a need to take some kind of control over his life. He started by hazarding an educated guess.

"Well, one of you must be Becca, and the other is probably Val."

Five sets of female eyes all locked on him. No one said anything at all. Their mouths were open and it was clear to him that he had scored a hit.

Feeling a little giddy, he made his face remain calm and pushed a little further.

"I remember you two reading to me... and other things."

Both girls' faces went ashen white. The red head moaned and looked down. The raven-haired one covered her mouth and her eyes went large and round.

Betty frowned, and was the first to move.

"Other things? What other things?"

She looked around, her frown deepening as she saw the embarrassed looks on their faces. She looked back at Bob, who was smiling, completely unaware that he was perilously close to opening a can of worms. None of the grandmothers who had been so familiar with him were aware that their granddaughters had also become... familiar with him as well, if a little less so. That the girls hadn't told each other about their private activities only made them a fragmented force, that couldn't work together to defuse the situation.

The only thing that kept all those worms in that can was the fact that Bob was able to recognize that something was wrong. Betty's face was taking on classical look of suspicion, which signaled to Bob that all these women didn't necessarily know about each other's activities. He felt the little bit of control he'd tried to grab for slipping away.

"Um... you know..." he caged. "They told me things... private things I suppose. They probably didn't' think I'd ever wake up and remember them."

Betty looked at him, three small lines creasing her brow. It was obvious she was evaluating his statement. Bob realized she was a very intelligent woman, something that made him both proud and a little nervous at the same time.

"What kind of private things?" asked Betty suspiciously.

Bob smiled widely. "Now I wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I blabbed things spoken to me in confidence... would I?" He stared intently at Betty. "I mean isn't it true that women should be allowed to have certain... secrets?"

Betty flushed. This was dangerous territory. She and her sisters had adjusted to the fact that they all loved their father in ways that society wouldn't understand. They had kept very secret who the fathers of their children were. That had been no small feat, seeing as how each had had her first child at age fifteen. There had been some fancy footwork as the girls visited the doctor alone for their prenatal checkups. More than once Martha had called the doctor's office pretending to be her mother and explaining that she had to work, and could the doctor please give her his report over the phone? The fact that the sexual revolution was in full swing had helped a little. There had been other children too, a pair of boys for each of Bob's daughters, all sired by the sleeping man. But by then they were older, and no one asked them any questions. Bob's daughters knew that things couldn't go on like that, and that their children should be raised in as normal a fashion as possible. So a pact was made that none of the children would be told who their biological father was.

It had been difficult. Any woman who has three children by an unknown father is odd in modern society. To have three sisters all do that was a powder keg. That they had been able to pull it off in a small town was a miracle. While they worried about the neighbors, they did not worry about their father. None of his daughters had thought he'd remember anything if, and when, he woke. Right now Betty was the only person in the room who knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that her father knew at least what she had been doing. She was, in fact, doing it when he woke up.

June was thinking along the same lines. She didn't know what her father remembered about his time asleep, but if he remembered anything at all, she didn't want him talking about it in front of the girls.

"Yes!" barked June, making everyone in the room jump. She shot a conspirator's look at Betty. "Of course a girl sometimes has secrets. It's nice to know my father is a gentleman." she added.

The two new arrivals didn't relax so much as wilt while standing there, darting looks around as if to see if they were really safe. None of them seemed to catch on to the fact that all five women in the room were uncomfortable... and that all of them thought they had something to hide.

Just as the grandmothers didn't know about the erotic activities of their granddaughters with Bob, they were firmly convinced that their granddaughters didn't know about how intimately their grandmothers had cared for Bob over the years, and would be horrified if they did.

The uncomfortable silence went on so long that it was Bob who felt the need to break it.

"So which one is Becca?" he asked.

The redhead came alive and smiled timidly.

"That's me." she said shyly. She had told this man all sorts of secret intimate details about herself, and spent enough hours with him that they now added up to several months. But to her he seemed like a completely different man as his blue eyes stared at her. She felt a tingle in her belly at that level gaze. He was much more handsome awake than he had been asleep.

Bob looked at the tall thin beauty. She looked like a fashion model.

"So that means you're Val... Valerie?" He glanced at Betty. "Named after my wife?"

Betty nodded, smiling.

Val had a little more self possession, being the oldest of the cousins. She smiled and said in a formal voice. "It's wonderful to finally meet you Great Grandfather Bob."

Fran waved her hand in the air, like she was waiting to be called on in school. Everyone looked at her.

"Um... we were just talking about that. He says we can call him Uncle Bob... if we want to..." She suddenly looked uncomfortable in the spotlight. "I mean so he doesn't sound so old..."

It still felt stilted and uncomfortable in the room, and Bob didn't want things that way. He waved a hand in the air.

"I don't really care what you call me. I'm just glad to be awake and get to meet all of you. At least I think I'm glad to be awake. I have a feeling all of this is going to take some getting used to." He pointed toward the counter. "Take for instance the obvious improvements they've made in toaster ovens. That one got my breakfast ready much faster than they would have... back in my day."

All the women looked at the counter where he was pointing. Becca was the first to speak.

"Toaster oven? What's that?"

June laughed.

"He's talking about the microwave." She turned back to her father. "You're right. A lot has changed since you went to sleep. You're going to see some amazing things. I can't wait to show them to you," she finished excitedly.

Betty came alive too. She held out the clothing in her arms.

"I brought some of my son's things. Your grandson. He's off doing something somewhere, trying to make money. I think they'll fit you."

Bob's first instinct was to go somewhere private and get dressed. But as he reflected on the uncomfortable reactions of the women, based on his comment that he remembered "other things" he suddenly felt wicked. After all, every woman in this room had either handled his stiff prick, or taken it into her pussy. He had a glimmer of a suspicion that not all of them knew that, and another glimmer of a way to find out. He casually spread the clothing out on the table in front of him. He picked up a pair of shorts made of some soft material. They had the regular pockets, but in addition had an extra set of big pockets on the thighs, with a flap that kept them closed. He pulled at the flap, but it didn't seem to want to move. He thought that was odd and pulled harder. There was a ripping/tearing sound as the flap came up and he stopped.

"I didn't mean to tear them." he said helplessly.

June laughed again. "You didn't tear them. That's Velcro. It keeps things closed when you want them closed, but lets you open them when you want them open."

She reached for the shorts and closed and then reopened the pocket flap several times.

"See?"

"Wow" said Bob, examining the hook and loop system with fascination.

He picked up a T shirt that had the words "No Fear" on it and put that back down.

"Can't wear that one. I'm terrified." He grinned to show he wasn't serious. The fact was that his stomach was in knots, based on what he was about to do. He picked up another shirt that had buttons down the front and a floral pattern on it. It reminded him of those kids who rode long boards, standing on them in the surf.

Then, like it was the most normal thing in the world to do, he stood up and dropped the towel on his chair. All five women stood and stared at the naked man as he picked up the shorts with trembling fingers and stepped into them. They were too big and he had to hold them up with his hands.

"Got a belt?" he asked, looking over at Betty.

Her eyes were large and her mouth was in the shape she could use to whistle.

"I... I didn't think." she croaked.

He glanced at each of the other women, trying to make it look casual, as if he thought one of them might, for some strange reason, be in possession of a man's belt. His purpose was to gauge the look on their faces at seeing him naked. He felt satisfaction when all of them looked surprised, but none of them displayed the outrage he would have expected had they never seen him naked before. Psychologically, they were used to seeing him that way, and none of them thought fast enough to act as if they hadn't.

And... none of them objected to what he had done. He thought to keep them off balance.

"Unless you don't mind me walking around nude, somebody needs to find me something to keep these pants up."

Nobody said anything and he almost grinned. Then Betty jerked and spoke.

"Frannie, honey, go out to the garage and see if there's a piece of rope or something out there."

Bob saw something white peeking out from under the shirt he was going to wear and pulled it out. It was a pair of briefs, and was the first thing he'd seen that looked like the clothing he remembered. Feeling naughty somehow, he let the shorts drop and stepped out of them. He took his time stepping into the briefs and pulled them up. In contrast to the shorts, they fit him perfectly. His penis made a distinct bulge in them. He was having fun now and just stood there. All five women were still watching him.

"Go on Fran!" barked Betty, and Fran jumped and then went out of the room. She was looking over her shoulder as she did so.

Bob picked up the shirt and slid his arms into it, shrugging it up onto his shoulders. He left it open. He knew he'd feel silly if he was wearing only a properly buttoned shirt... and underwear. He looked around. It was awkward and uncomfortable again. He looked at the two newest arrivals.

"Well, sit down or something. You don't have to stand just for me. I'm sure, if you're like the others, that you have some questions for me, and I'd like to find out a little about everybody too. It looks like I'm going to have to live the rest of my life in a future world, so we may as well get on with it."

His matter-of-fact approach to the situation had a remarkable effect. Val and Becca went immediately to empty chairs at the table and sat, as if they were afraid they'd be shot if they didn't. June went to the sink and poured herself a glass of water. Betty picked up the dishes she had served Bob on and took them to the sink, butting her sister hip-to-hip to get her to move over so she could put the dishes in the sink. Bob watched with half an eye as she ran some water over the plate and then opened a metal cabinet door under the counter and put the plate in a rack inside, still dirty. She dropped his silverware in a basket mounted on the open door. Looking over her shoulder at Bob she asked if he wanted more coffee. When he shook his head she came, got his cup, and put it in another rack that slid out above the one that held the plate. Then she closed the door and reached up to a long white tube on the wall. Bob saw her pull and tear off a square shaped towel looking thing, which she ran quickly under the tap, getting it partially wet. She came to the table and started wiping it down. As she started to leave he reached out and grasped her wrist, peering at the towel. It was paper!

Betty smiled. "Paper towel. Use it once and throw it away. Cuts down on the laundry."

"How about that." said Bob, amazed. "They should come up with something like that for diapers too. Talk about laundry!"

There were feminine giggles all the way around.

"They did that already Daddy." said June. "They have diapers that come in packages and when you take it off the baby you just fold it up and toss it in the trash. I didn't get to use them until I had my last child. They're expensive, but it was worth it, believe me!"

Fran bounded back into the room with a six foot piece of rope in her hands.

"I found this!" she announced proudly.

Betty took it from her and went to a drawer. She looked inside and moved some things around and then went to another drawer, pulling out a knife. Bob stood up as she approached him and raised his arms in the air. She knelt in front of him, her face only a foot from the bulge in his briefs, and reached behind him to pull the rope around his waist. That brought her face only inches from his groin and Bob had the insane urge to lean forwards and make her lips bump his... bump. He stopped himself, and was distracted by thoughts whirling in his brain.

He was, physically, a young man. His wife was gone, and had been gone for some time. He still had his whole life ahead of him, apparently, assuming he didn't go back to sleep like he had before. His brain wrestled with the morals he had gone to sleep with, and the knowledge that the five women in this room had been intimate with him repeatedly and willingly. True, they thought he was unconscious, but their participation had been both willing and happily consummated. He was sure of that.

There was a whisper from somewhere in his brain that it was normal to want that to continue, while another voice whispered just as urgently that it was perverted and wrong. The first voice notified him that his penis was currently filling with blood and that he really should lean forward just a couple of inches. The second voice insisted that he stop thinking that way completely. Before he could make a real decision, Betty stood up and cut the rope with the knife, handing him the piece she thought would fit.

Relieved that the temptation was gone he fumbled with the rope, sliding it through the belt loops of the shorts. His bulge had grown to perhaps twice its original size. He missed the fact that all five women were staring at it while he prepared the shorts.

He also missed the fact that Val and June licked their lips as they noticed.

He bent over and pulled up the shorts, knotting the rope tightly. He didn't miss the chorus of sighs as his bulging prick was concealed from view. He looked up and smiled.

"All better?" he asked.

He almost laughed when no one answered for a space of five seconds, and then Betty blurted "Yes."

To prove that morals in 2000 weren't gone... only twisted a little in the Winkle family... the mood was much lighter and happier once Bob was clothed. Conversation flowed more easily, at least until Becca asked the question: "So what was it like? How much do you remember?"

Taking a chance, Bob just told the truth, though a very synopsized version for the present.

"I remember everything that anyone said to me, and everything that happened to me."

That tensed things up again pretty much instantly.

"Everything?" squeaked Val.

"Yup" said Bob. He wasn't sure how to go about having a waking relationship with all these women, but if he was going to have any kind of relationship at all, it didn't need to be clouded up by a bunch of guilt. On impulse he added.

"I had a good sleep, all things considered. I'm sure that all this will have its difficulties... but, I have to say nothing happened to me while I slept that I'll ever be sorry for."

The relaxation that flowed through the room was palpable.

Bob frowned. "Maybe I spoke too quickly." he said.

The tension returned just as palpably.

"I'll always be sorry at the time I lost with Val... my wife. And I'll always be sad I wasn't there for you girls as you grew up." He looked at Betty and June.

There were tears in Betty's eyes.

"It's okay, Daddy. We did fine. Mamma missed you so much. But we made do. I mean you were still here, and we got to see you. We did okay, honest."

"I'm glad you feel that way." Bob said honestly. "I'm awfully proud of you two... and Martha too, even though I haven't met her yet. As hard as it is to think about what I missed... what I deprived you of... it's nice to know you're not bitter about it."

"We could never be bitter about you Daddy." said June softly. "We loved you all those years, and we knew you loved us too."

Bob's mind flitted to memories of just how they had loved him, but he ignored those. He knew she wasn't talking about physical love, and he had heard their emotional love in their voices. The younger girls too, though not as deeply. To them he had been more of a secret pal, a guy they could talk to, and experiment with, he now realized. But they had been tender and loving towards him too, even when they didn't have to be.

"Tell me about your families." he ordered. He was the patriarch of the family again, and he wanted to start acting like it.

He had just been brought up to date on the dates everyone was born, and the names of the children, where they all were and what they were doing these days, when the back door opened and another woman walked in.

"What in the world is going on in here?" she asked, authority in her strong voice.

That voice was familiar to Bob instantly, and he knew this was Martha. That she was older than Betty and June was evident, though not in obvious ways. Her skin was a little darker and showed more effect of sun and weather, almost as if Becca were her granddaughter, rather than Val. But she was tall and slim, like Val. She had on a dress and had two plastic sacks (was everything made of plastic these days?!) hanging from each hand. The sacks were full of little boxes and Bob could see tomatoes through the thin walls of one.

"I go out to get a few things and there's a party going on at my house when I get back?" she said in a falsely grumpy voice. "Am I even invited?" she drove on.

Then she saw Bob.

Her face scrunched up and then smoothed as her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. Plastic sacks thumped to the floor beside her feet.

"Hi, pumpkin." said Bob calmly. "It's good to see you again."

He had always called her pumpkin. At age five, when he had gone to sleep, he had loved telling her that they had found her in a pumpkin patch, and she was so cute that they took her home to keep forever.

"Daddy?" she whimpered, her strong voice vanished. "Daddy?" she whined again. Her strong voice came back loudly. "Daddy? Oh Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!"

She almost tackled him, but he was ready for her, his arms spread wide and a grin on his face. She felt good in his arms as she was suddenly sobbing and babbling into his neck, crushing him with her hug. All she could say was "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy" over and over again.

Just as suddenly she pushed back away from him, rubbing at her face with her hands.

"When did you wake up?! Why didn't somebody tell me you woke up?! Oh I can't believe you're awake!? Where did you get those clothes?! Oh, I feel faint. I have to sit down."

Hands reached for her and she plopped into a chair, only hitting half the seat and leaning dangerously to one side before helping hands moved her over. She looked up through shining eyes and then jumped up out of the chair to hug her father again. This time she planted a completely unabashed kiss on his lips, crushing them against his, before sobbing some more.

"Oh Daddy I'm so glad you woke up. I've been waiting for you so long. I love you so much!"

She kissed him again and then moved to his cheeks, kissing his face all over. She stopped abruptly and her face fell.

"Mommy died Daddy. She's gone."

She fell against him sobbing and clutching at him, her grief overflowing. Other eyes in the room got wet with tears of grief too as Bob stroked her back, murmuring to her that it was all right, and that everything was okay.

Martha pushed away, gently this time.

"I don't know what to say." she whined.

Bob grinned. "For somebody who doesn't know what to say, you've been doing pretty well. As I recall I couldn't get you to shut up the last time I saw you."

Martha looked shocked and slapped at his shoulder. Of all his daughters, she was the only one who had already had a firm relationship with him... one that she could remember vividly... when he went to sleep.

"Don't be mean to me Daddy." she scolded, sounding five years old somehow.

Bob laughed and pulled her back. This time he kissed her, and he told his morals to go away and bother somebody else. Her willingness to kiss him as she had gave him the permission he needed to kiss her back, and he did so happily, making a long grinding kiss. He felt her sag in his arms, as though her knees had gone weak.

He helped her sit down again, sitting beside her.

"You sure have grown up a lot." he said, smiling at her.

"I had to!" she barked, her tears stopping. "Mamma said we had to take care of you!"

Another thing about Martha that was different from her sisters was her attitude about what "taking care of Daddy" had meant. When she was five, and before he had gone to sleep, Martha had announced that, when she grew up, she was going to marry him. Bob and Valerie had smiled at that, and Bob had said that he'd be proud for her to marry him some day. Her parents both assumed that such a common faze would pass. But the events surrounding her family had affected her in ways that most little girls are never affected. When she began "taking care of Daddy" she still thought of him as her man, whom she inherited from her now departed mother. And, as the years went on and she became more mother than daughter, Martha thought of him as her husband. He gave her children, and she loved him both emotionally and physically. In a way, her five year old fantasy was lived out. In a strange way.

As a result, while she agreed that his grandchildren would not be exposed to all that caring for Grandpa entailed, she never felt the least bit guilty about loving him, or having those grandchildren. Her lifelong love affair with her father made it much easier for her to be more open about it than her sisters had been, at least in front of the great grandchildren. Even now, kissing him... and being kissed by him in front of the girls didn't bother Martha. She was just too happy that her father was awake and in her arms.

To prove that her sisters were less comfortable with their erotic roles in his life, June spoke.

"Martha, he remembers everything that happened while he was asleep."

Martha didn't break her eye contact with her father.

"Everything?" she asked.

"Everything." he stated.

Martha felt flurries in her stomach, but that was all. They were only a result of the girls being present.

"Mamma said we could take care of you." she said carefully. "She even showed us how."

More memories of young voices, in concert with Valerie's voice, surfaced in his mind, like an audio diary unfolding.

"Are you taking care of Daddy again? Mommy?"

"Yes dear, this makes us both feel happy."

"I'd like to feel happy." said a young voice.

"Some day you'll get to do this." said Valerie. "You just be patient and wait for some day to get here."

"I can't wait." came the young voice.

"You have plenty of time Martha." echoed his wife's voice in his memory. "It's worth waiting for, because it's the most lovely feeling in the whole world."

Then there was the same voice, but older now.

"It's my turn now Daddy... my turn to take care of you." And "Here's the butter, try that!" from another voice. He remembered the sensation of intense pressure surrounding his penis, and of moans of pain and whimpering and then joyous laughter as his prick spurted in the body attached to that young voice.

"I remember your laughter." he said, amazed that the memory had surfaced so clearly.

Now Martha blushed. But she smiled too. "It was wonderful Daddy. It made me feel so close to you." Her eyes darted to the young girls in the room. "We'll talk about that later."

Bob wanted to smile. He was pretty sure now that the older women didn't know about the younger women, and that they had been doing almost the same things with him. Still, he didn't want to push things.

"We have a lot to talk about, I imagine." he said.

Chapter 6

It was a fascinating afternoon. That might seem obvious to many, but it was also fascinating in ways it would e hard for many to understand. Bob was mildly interested in seeing what changes had come to the world while he slept, but the memories of what had happened kept rising, and becoming more clear as he talked to the six women who had been so much a part of his affliction... if that was the right word. He felt like he knew them better than should be possible. All of them had talked to him, at one time or another, about things they were worried about, or what their hopes were, and even about other people in their lives. In a strange way (if this situation wasn't strange enough!) it was as if he had been awake the whole time, and was just an exceptionally good listener. So, in that sense, he knew these women very well.

Of course that didn't go the other way. The women had gotten nothing from him other than sexual satisfaction for most of their lives, older or younger. Becca, it turned out, had an interest in history, and she asked him question after question about what life had been like in the thirties and forties, during which time he had grown up.

Val, on the other hand, was practically giddy with laughter as first she brought him things to look at, and then took him by the hand and dragged him throughout the house, showing him normal every day things that were taken for granted by everyone alive today... except Bob. They were almost all brand new to him. Even something so mundane as a Bic lighter was a thing of fascination as he tried to figure out how the girl had gotten flame out of a plastic (!) tube that he couldn't seem to make work to save his life. When she laughingly showed him the safety feature that controlled the gas, he grinned sheepishly.

But being around her - all the women, really - was so satisfying, on so many levels, that Bob didn't mind being made fun of occasionally, and being pretty much unable to do anything for himself, because he couldn't figure out how to make many things operate.

The women were so taken with him, and he with them, that they never left the house the rest of the day.

One of the pinnacles of his update was a truly astonishing session in front of a television that was physically smaller than anything he had ever seen before, but which had a screen larger than many TV cabinets he had seen (but had not been able to afford to buy). Bob explained that, when he had gone to sleep, he had been trying to figure out a way to scrape together the $95 necessary to buy the latest television set on the market... with its three inch screen.

Finally Martha chased the other women out, telling them her father was exhausted by their nattering. That, in itself, took an hour, as each woman came up with yet another thing to talk about or ask about that just couldn't wait until the next day.

June was the last to go. Bob had received only four goodbye hugs and kisses by that time, but he was already in a state of high arousal from having three young, tight bodies plastered to his, whose lips were anything but tight, and who brought back memories of ecstasy. Now June molded her lush body against his and kissed him long and deep.

"Welcome back Daddy." she whispered, licking his ear and making him shudder.

"It's good to be back." he said, resisting the urge to let his hands drop from her lower back to her firm buttocks. His mind was awhirl with the conundrum of a past in which touching his daughters - or any woman other than Valerie, for that matter - was considered wrong!, and his current desire to repeat with all of them what had happened while he slept. That part of him seeped out as he whispered back. "I liked your... bathing suit."

She reluctantly pushed away from him as she blushed, and then frowned and turned to Martha.

"What if he goes back to sleep... like last time?" she asked.

Martha pushed her toward the door. "That's the last thing you need to put on the poor man's mind. He's been through enough without having to worry about resting after a long day. You'll be here for breakfast, along with the rest of them, I imagine. He'll either be awake by then, or not. Now leave him be."

Martha's practical attitude changed radically once the door closed, however, and she was left alone with her father. She had a look of almost panic on her face when she turned to him.

"What if she's right, Daddy? What if you do go back to sleep?"

Bob thought about that for a few seconds. With his memories fully exposed, he'd have precious little to complain about if he did go back into the long sleep. So much had happened in this one day of being conscious again that he felt like he'd lived several years in just this single day. In another way he felt like he might be asleep right now, and dreaming this whole crazy thing.

Still, the look of panic and concern on Martha's face was real.

Bob smiled. "I don't think I'd have waked up if whatever was keeping me asleep wasn't finished with me."

Martha smiled tentatively. "Really? I don't know what I'd do if you went back to sleep... like that I mean. We have so much to catch up on. There's so much I never got to tell you."

"I remember everything you said to me." he said, hugging his daughter.

Martha's eyes were startled as she tried to remember the myriad things she'd said to her sleeping father over the years. While he could remember them all, she couldn't.

"I'm still nervous." she said, holding both his hands. "I'm afraid to go to sleep myself."

"Then we won't." he said. He wasn't really sleepy, after all. It's pretty hard to wake up from a fifty year long nap and be sleepy right away, after all. He was tired, but it was that good kind of tired where sitting just feels wonderful.

So they sat and talked, and Bob reminded her of some of the things she'd said to him that she'd forgotten about. Some memories brought laughter, and some embarrassment, while others made other emotions surge in them both. It was difficult for Bob to broach the sexual activities that had gone on - they seemed so bizarre and strange to a man whose mindset was still in the late nineteen forties. But both of them knew that some of the things they talked about this night had been said in the heat of passion, while daughter impregnated herself on her father's rampant prick.

"Do you really remember us making love to you?" Martha finally asked, her face darkening a little.

"Oh yes." he said, blushing himself. "I can remember each and every time if I try."

"Did you... like it?" asked the woman.

Bob's forehead wrinkled as he pondered how to answer that question.

"For me it was just a haze of white. I knew people... you girls... were there, but I didn't realize it was you. I mean I recognized Valerie's voice, and yours when they were younger, but it was all just a cloud I was in. I don't remember feeling anything exactly. I remember each orgasm I had, but not how I felt about it." He looked at her. "Isn't that strange? Now that I'm awake I can close my eyes and play back each time it happened, with whatever woman or girl was with me, but I can't remember how I felt about it."

"We tried to hard to wake you up." said Martha, leaning toward him. "Mamma said she was doing that because it would make you happy when you woke up. I think us girls might have misunderstood that at the time. We thought that was what was supposed to wake you up. We thought she meant you'd wake up because you loved us. Later we thought she was trying to shock you into waking up, but by then we were hooked. We couldn't quit. Looking back at it now, of course, Mamma just loved doing it with you. And we did too, later. And then you got me pregnant, and June and Betty couldn't stand it until they got pregnant too."

"I got you pregnant?!" laughed Bob. "I think it was the other way around, little missy."

Martha's eyes glistened as tears filled them.

"You haven't called me little missy for fifty years Daddy!" she bawled.

A hug was called for, and given. That hug somehow turned into a nuzzle, which turned into a kiss, which turned into more kisses which had both of them panting within the space of just a few minutes.

Martha pushed him back, her chest heaving.

"I'm tired after all, Daddy." she said, looking at him through thick long lashes. "I want to go to bed now."

She stood, and had his hand in hers.

"I'm still worried that you might go back to sleep. I think you need to sleep with me tonight... so I can keep an eye on you..." After what they had just talked about, and what they had just been doing, her meaning was clear.

Bob felt himself being pulled in two directions. He stood while his mind warred in his skull. Her hand was warm in his, and, small as that was, it made the difference. All he could remember was a cloudy haze... and voices. He wanted to put sight into that equation.

"Okay." he whispered.

Martha made no bones about it. When they got to the bedroom she unashamedly stripped off her clothing as if he weren't even there. He stared at the woman whose voice he knew so well, but whose body didn't match anything in his memory. Her full breasts sagged a bit, but the dark areolas perched on top of each one, with a firm nipple on each one that pointed more up than out. Her stomach had a middle aged pooch to it, a roll that was the perfect size to fit into a hand, and her hips were fleshy too. Still, she looked more in her mid forties than the over fifty years she actually was.

"I loved being able to... take care of you." she said softly, almost shyly as she waited for him to remove his clothing.

He stood there, all his muscles locked except the one in the pants he was wearing. It was almost as if that one took all his newly-awakened brain's power to manage as it swelled. She drifted, at least to his eyes, toward him and he felt her hand flicker across the front of his pants.

"I looked forward to it every day." she murmured, looking straight into his eyes.

"Every day?" he choked.

"Well, almost every day." she corrected herself. "I just knew that someday you'd wake up because of what I was doing with you."

"Well," he sighed, letting out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, "I guess that sort of happened. When I woke up Betty was on top of me."

Martha's eyes twinkled as she smiled. "I'm not surprised. Betty loved taking care of you as much as I did." Her brow furrowed a little. "Please hurry up Daddy. I need to take care of you again. I can't wait to see your eyes this time. I've dreamed of looking into your eyes while I..."

Now she blushed, and her eyes darted to his ear, but then came back immediately.

"While I feel you spurting inside me Daddy."

That galvanized him, and it seemed like only a few blinks of the eye had taken place - the most time was getting the rope around his waist un-knotted - before he stood naked in front of her, his penis jutting almost obscenely toward her naked mons. Her fingers casually grasped it and squeezed gently as she leaned in for a long kiss. Her tongue probed... just the tip... and he opened his lips in surprise. He had never kissed anyone like this except Valerie.

Then, suddenly, they were on the bed and he was above her as her hands pulled at his hips and he was surrounded by heat.

"Ohhhh yessss Daddy." moaned the woman under him.

His release was both unanticipated and shockingly powerful as he suddenly spurted helplessly.

"Ohhhhh baby." he moaned.

"Daddy!" squealed Martha, laughing. "You always lasted much longer than that!"

He took a breath, not knowing what to say, but her finger came up to his lips and sealed them.

"Don't you worry about it. You make me feel special, cumming that quickly. We have all night. We can't go to sleep... remember? Now, suck my nipples please? I've always wanted you to suck my nipples."

Bob looked down at the nipples under discussion and his head dropped. They were larger, and softer than the nipples he had sucked the last time he'd been awake. To his astonishment, he felt something happening in his groin and felt himself becoming erect again.

Martha cooed and giggled, stroking his back and shoulders, urging him on, calling him her Daddy Bull. This time he wasn't so rock hard, but he was able to probe her deeply for much longer. He found himself in that nebulous place inside his mind that said what he was doing was forbidden... that Valerie wouldn't be pleased... and then remembered that she was the one who had taught this woman how to love him physically. He let go of his inhibitions and surrendered to her loving embrace.

She brought him back twice again and they made love well into the wee hours of the morning. They talked at length about all the children he'd created in his daughters, and that none of them were aware of who their biological father was. For some reason he kept quiet about what the great granddaughters had done with him. None of them had actually had intercourse with him, and the secretiveness of his daughters about doing that themselves led him to believe they would not approve of what their granddaughters had done. Discussion about that could come later.

But exhaustion claimed them, as hard as they fought it, and eventually, in a tangle of naked arms and legs, they couldn't stay awake any longer.

Again, Bob slept.

Author's Comment: What do you do when the story you're telling is as confusing as this one can be? We have women who, officially are granddaughters, but biologically are daughters. We have great granddaughters, officially, who are in fact granddaughters biologically. That confusion is compounded when the various relationships between the women are addressed. No author wants to create frustration in the reader, so here's the plan for the rest of the story: From this point on, each woman will be referred to her her official title rather than her biological one. At least most of the time. Think of it as a contract between the author and the readers. I'll try not to confuse you... and you try to keep up. Sound like a plan?

Bob was awakened by a racket and violent motion in the bed.

What happened was that both he and Martha, exhausted after their extended lovemaking session the night before, had slept late. Or at least it was late by virtue of the fact that there were three more women in Bob's life he hadn't met yet, and they now knew he was awake.

Becca, Fran and Val had all gone home after leaving Martha's and had excitedly babbled about how Great Grandfather Bob had awakened. Their mothers were caught up in the excitement. They had not been even remotely as involved in his care as their daughters, but still were part of the mystery of his long sleep, and they were obviously excited to go and meet him. It was too late that night to do so then, but all three called each other to spread news that everybody already knew. In the process they all agreed to meet at Martha's the next morning. No time was agreed upon, primarily because each of Bob's granddaughters wanted to be the first to get there. June and Betty, though they weren't part of that conversation, had already decided to come back early the next morning, too.

It might have evolved quietly... peacefully... sanely... instead of the landslide that happened. The first trickle of sand that started rocks rolling was when Gidget, driving rapidly down the street, was blocked by her sister Sunny, who backed out into the street from her driveway like she was in labor and heading to the hospital. Becca and Val were in the cars with their mothers, of course, and immediately set up a chant urging their mothers to drive faster and "beat" the other to Martha's house. That madcap race was observed by Polly and Fran, who only lived a few blocks from Martha's and were walking. They both broke into a sprint, not wanting to be last to arrive. Betty and June both parked a split second apart, as screeching tires morphed into slamming doors. Polly and Fran came hammering up the street, yelling "Wait for us" between gasps for breath.

So it was that eight excited women descended on Martha's peaceful house around six in the morning. To be truthful, none of them intended to disturb anyone, but their angst about whether Bob had gone back to sleep... and would wake up again like a normal man... resulted in each of them deciding to arrive early. They didn't have any actual plans to do anything in particular, but they all wanted to be there. It was chaos, though chaos with attempts from various directions to inflict order. June and Betty tried to establish matriarchal control in the yard. They were ignored by their daughters, who raced for the back door and burst into the kitchen much like a S.W.A.T. team might have. Nobody yelled "Clear!" though.

Still, Martha awoke in her father's arms to what sounded like a home invasion. She was terrified on several levels. There was the "What in the nine hells is going on?" kind of terror, followed quickly by the "Oh shit! That's Sunny's voice I hear and I'm in bed naked with her grandfather!" kind of terror, which was compounded when she also heard the voices of her nieces, Polly and Gidget. There were other voices too, a babble that made it difficult to figure out just how many people were out there as she bolted up out of bed and searched frantically for her robe. This led to the "What if there's a TV camera crew in my kitchen!?" kind of terror.

What gave her the time to make it trembling to the door of her room, and into the hall where she could repel boarders, was the fact that all of the women in the mob went to the room where they thought they'd find Bob... the room he'd been in for fifty years.

That room, or bed, to be more precise, was empty, of course, and like a tsunami that has hit a cliff, the wave of women rebounded out of the door and flowed aimlessly around looking for the object of their search.

It was Betty who figured it out first, and she turned toward her sister's bedroom. There, in the hall, holding her hands out like a traffic cop facing angry motorists, stood a disheveled Martha, her hair flying in all directions, her robe tied haphazardly around her waist, her eyes open wide in... well... terror.

Martha started to relax a little when all she saw in the hallway was Betty, but like in a bad disaster movie, the hallway behind Betty was suddenly roiling with women acting like they were at a Christmas sale at Macy's and were all going for the very last Tickle Me Elmo doll on the shelf. The cacophony was horrendous as all the women demanded to know where their Daddy, or Grandfather or Great Grandfather was and whether he was awake or asleep.

Martha, when she didn't see any TV cameras, set her feet and put on her most ferocious frown. Holding her arms out like she was going to hold them all back by pure force of her will, she planted one palm on each wall of the hallway and yelled "stop!"

On the other side of the bedroom door, Bob's eyes popped open as the bedroom door was slammed shut. He lifted his head, while his arm moved to where Martha had been the last time he'd been awake. His mind cleared surprisingly fast as the sounds of mayhem came through the door. After what he'd gone through the day before, the noise of babbling voices didn't phase him, and he sat up and looked around for something to put on. All there was were the clothes he had been given the day before and he calmly pulled them on while he listened to the mayhem slowly quiet after someone screamed "Stop!" at the top of her lungs. He stood and went to the door, listening. The voices were somewhat muffled, but he could discern them without too much trouble.

First there was a trio of "Is he awake?" followed by a duet of "He's not in his bed!"

Martha had not had time to properly think or prepare for this.

"He's in my bed!" she blurted.

"Oh is he now?" crowed Betty.

"Why is he in your bed?" asked Sunny who, as a little girl, had spent many happy moments climbing into bed with her mother on cold winter mornings.

"Well... um... you see... I wanted him to be comfortable." Martha came up with.

"So..." said June, her voice tight, "Where did you sleep?

Sunny chimed right in "Yes mother, where did you sleep. Grandpa's bed hasn't been used."

"Well, uh, I slept on the couch!" said Martha weakly.

"I just bet you did." growled June.

"Well, it just seemed wrong, sleeping in his bed and all." went on Martha. "Kind of creepy, you know?" She was trying hard, but was behind the power curve. She had a stroke of what she thought was genius. "He fell asleep and I sat there, with him for a long time, watching him. Finally I took a nap on the couch. I just got up to go in and check on him when you all barged into my house."

Gidget missed the undercurrent that was threatening to sweep Martha away.

"So is he awake?" she asked excitedly.

"Um... I think so." said Martha, grasping. "I mean I was just about to shake him when you all stormed in here."

"I just bet you were." growled June again.

"June!" said Martha with warning in her voice.

"Well it's not fair!" yelled June.

"June!" shouted Martha. "Look around you, June!"

"Oh shut up!" yelled June. "I want to see my Pappa!"

"I just bet you do!" crowed Betty, laughing.

"What's going on here?" asked Sunny, her voice taking on a note of suspicion.

Bob decided that things were crazy enough out there and pulled the door open quickly. He stepped out into the hallway to see Martha still holding up the walls and eight feminine faces peering past her shoulders with various moods painted on their faces.

For Gidget, Sunny and Polly, those moods were of astonishment... a fairy tale come true right before their eyes. Their mouths dropped open and all three took in deep breaths. Bob looked at them interestedly. These were the three voices that weren't so familiar... the three women he didn't really know in any real sense. While he had managed to wrap his mind around the fact that the other six women had been intimate with him, and while he now knew that these women were his biological daughters, he was suddenly at a loss for words.

"Hello." he said.

"Grandpa?" came the cracked voice of one of them.

"I guess so." he said smiling. "And you are?"

There was a surge of bodies and Martha was brushed aside as if she weighed nothing more than a piece of paper.

"Sunny!" squealed the woman. "I'm Sunny, and this is Polly over here, and this is Gidget, and that's my daughter Val and..."

"He met us already!" cried the three youngest women, laughing.

"Oh! Yes! Of course." Sunny blushed and grinned. "This is so ex-citing!" she squealed.

Both Polly and Gidget had to do the same "Grandpa?" routine, reaching out to touch him to make sure he was real. Martha, feeling disgruntled and neglected, not to mention upset that her lovely interlude with her father had been all but destroyed, reasserted her matriarchal position in the family and started yelling to give the man some room to breathe, and about why was everyone standing in her hallway when she had a perfectly good living room. The girls asked about breakfast, of course, and that set in motion another wave of women who were hell bent for leather to fix something to eat for the exciting man who was being swept along with the tide, grinning and laughing at the antics of all those women.

It took half an hour before anyone was able to speak without interruption, and for questions to be answered. Bob sat in an easy chair while the women flitted about, changing seats for no reason, or going to the kitchen only to be chased out by Martha, who couldn't stay there because she couldn't stand the suspense of wondering if her father was saying something that would give away the fact that they had made wild glorious love all night long. So she kept drifting back into the living room, only to have to go back into the kitchen when one of the others got up and invaded her space.

But, eventually, things did settle down after that. There was still the occasional awed comment, like "This is just so strange!" and "I just can't believe you're really awake!"

It was Sunny who asked the question - or more correctly, string of questions - that made everything go quiet. At that point all the women happened to be in the room.

"So, what are you going to do now? Where will you live? What will you do?"

Bob blinked. He hadn't actually thought about that. He did so, realizing instantly that he was on a very slippery slope. Martha had obviously wanted to continue her former relationship with him. It was just as likely that Betty did too, based on her actions. He looked at June, remembering the sound of jealousy in her voice and added her to the list of women who would want some intimate time with him. Then there were the three younger women, all of whom had done things with him. Would they too want to keep doing things now that he was awake? Part of him hoped so, because they were all cute and beautiful and interesting. It was the three middle aged women who were the unknown variables in the equation.

"This is his home." stated Martha firmly. "Technically he still owns it."

Bob saw the faces of both Betty and June begin to harden and held up his hands.

"All of you are my family. I'll want to get to know all of you, and spend time with each of you. I have a lot of catching up to do, and lots of questions about your lives that I'd like to find out about."

He looked around the room.

"How about if I live with each of you for a while? I wouldn't stay too long or anything - you all have your own lives to live and all that - but that would give me a chance to spend some time with each of you and catch up until I can figure out what else to do."

June, Martha and Betty traded glances with each other. There was no blushing or prevarication. All of them knew what the other was thinking about. Martha knew her sisters were upset with her for trying to preempt time with their father... and lover... so she offered the first olive branch.

"I think that sounds like a perfectly wonderful and workable idea." she said.

Gidget looked at her sister, Polly. "What about Roger? What will he think? Do you even have room?"

Polly snorted. Roger was her husband, but in name only. After Francine had been born he'd come out of the closet and announced that he was gay. For Polly, the devastation that could have caused was blunted by the fact that Roger still loved her and he loved his daughter. He had told her he just wanted to be honest with her. As a result, they decided to stay together, living as husband and wife. But they slept in separate bedrooms. They were closer to loving roommates.

"Roger won't care at all." She looked critically at her grandfather. "On the other hand, Grandpa is kind of a hunk, you know? Roger may hit on him. And all the bedrooms are full."

"He can stay in my room when he comes to visit." offered Fran, her voice innocent.

While most of the women in the room didn't realize the import of that "kind offer", a lot of them felt the tug of suspicion. Bob had the appearance of a twenty-something year old man, who was quite fit and handsome. It was hard to think of him as being their seventy-something year old grandfather or great grandfather, not only for themselves, but as they saw him with the others too.

Betty was one of the women who felt suspicion in the otherwise innocent remark of her granddaughter. "Of course, when he's staying at my house, you all are welcome to visit as much as you like. I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable at home."

"Oh, it wouldn't be any trouble at all!" piped Fran. "I have mamma and daddy's old bed and it's huge! There's plenty of room for two people in it." Her comment was, at the same time, based on the pure logic of a mostly innocent girl of tender years, and the hormones flowing through that mostly innocent girl's bloodstream.

"I don't know about that." said Polly doubtfully, suddenly seeing the youth and virility that was obvious in her grandfather... now that she thought about it. "I'm not sure that would be proper dear. You know no boys are allowed in your bedroom."

"Maaahm" moaned Fran. "He's my great grandfather, not some boy who wants to get in my panties."

It took every muscle in her body to keep Fran from clapping a hand over her mouth. She couldn't believe she'd said that.

"Francine Elizabeth Anderson! That was uncalled for!" said Polly, exasperated and embarrassed.

Sunny laughed at her cousin's discomfiture.

"We can worry about that later. It's a good plan. But what about the other? What are you going to do? You're still a young man, for all intents and purposes. I feel more like I'm talking to someone my son's age than my grandfather."

"I have no idea." Bob admitted. "I was an accountant when I went to sleep. Does the world still have accountants? How have you all taken care of me all this time, for that matter? I must have been a real burden."

Martha waved her hand. "There was an insurance policy that paid out... is still paying out... and... oh my!. What will happen now? You're not asleep any more! The insurance company will have a fit! They'll probably say you've been faking it all this time or something!"

Becca sat up straight all of a sudden.

"The journal!" she gasped. "We forgot about the journal!"

"What journal?" asked her mother.

Now there were two young faces that went tight. The most closely guarded secret of their youth... well almost the most closely guarded secret anyway... had now been blurted in front of a whole bunch of adults who would be very upset about it once they found out what had been kept secret from them.

Val, the eldest of the younger generation, tried to pawn if off.

"Oh, it's just a diary. Our diary. We sort of... um... kept it... together." she said airily. She was trying to give the impression that it was a meaningless little thing.

Becca, though, was worried about her Aunt Martha's comment that the insurance company would think it was all some kind of fraud.

"We have to tell them, Val!" she insisted. "If the insurance people start making trouble it's going to be important!"

"Tell us what?" asked Martha, looking at her granddaughter with a piercing look. "What have you been keeping secret?"

Val may have been a self possessed nineteen year old young woman, but under the intense gaze of her grandmother, and the questioning looks of her mother and other older female relatives, she all but wilted.

"Well?" asked Martha, her voice dark.

"We were playing." Val started weakly. "Hide and seek." She trailed off.

"And?" prodded Martha.

"I was hiding up in the attic. We were very young Grandma." She looked around. Neither of her cousins would meet her eyes, but every other eye in the room was nailing her to her seat. She swallowed.

"I was hiding under that old desk up there. You know the one that has a lot of Great Grandfather Bob's papers in it?" She waited for a nod, but didn't get one, so she went on. "And I found a book... a diary sort of... in a secret compartment of the desk."

"A roll top desk?" asked Bob, leaning forward. "My great grandfather's roll top desk?"

Val looked at him, a tentative smile on her face, and nodded.

"Yes, that desk. And anyway we looked at this old diary and it sort of was signed."

"Sort of signed?" asked Betty, leaning forward herself now.

"Yes." said Val. "And it talked about a man who slept for a long long time... like Great Grandfather Bob was sleeping."

"Sort of signed?!" prodded Betty again.

"Yes." said Val miserably. "It was signed... Rip Van Winkle."

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