The Grow House

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[Tough father faces tough questions in re his daughter; mistreated by her husband, he saves her and has to take things into his own hands.

This is a gritty crime drama as well as a love story. If that concerns you, then we will see you next time. Thank you.]


I would be the first to admit it. I wasn’t anything like a perfect father. I ran a customization shop, mostly bikes and boulevard cruisers. Think “pimp your ride” though we didn’t have the bad taste which made them rich and kept me a pauper. My ride of choice is a Honda Gold Wing GL1200. No, I didn’t have an earring, tattoos on both arms, a keychain with lots of keys (most of them useless), a Swiss knife on a lanyard, or the grimiest Levi’s in North America. Maybe that’s why we never got our own show on the Discovery Channel.

Anyway, my humble existence finally cost me, big time. Here I was in the police station, asking, begging them to arrest this guy, and nothing. I just know that the cop at the desk scoped me out and thought I had no clout in town, ignoring anything I said. Let me backtrack:

My name is Thomas. My old lady was Jean. She up and left me for a younger guy, abandoning Heather, our only child, without a fight. Jean owes me $600 in child support (at $50 a month). I was amazed she’d give up our best, our only, asset without as much as a court appearance. Heather became ‘the golden girl’, my one hope for someone to escape our subsistence class and really ‘make it’.

Growing up, I made sure that Heather did everything perfectly. If she had homework, it had to be done Friday and checked by me before she could see any friends. When she tried out for cheerleaders, I scraped together a few bucks and had her done up nicely in a little family beauty salon nearby.

On the day she was going to try out for the cheer team, she was just two weeks past her 18th birthday. She had sent me out for a particular shampoo. When I got back after going to three places to find it, her note on the front door told me to take the bottle directly to her in the shower. So, I was just following orders. Entering the hall bathroom, she was in there, sure as shoot. She even had the curtain parted, waiting for my delivery. As I walked in, she hadn’t realized that the gap in the curtain gave me a perfect view of her. There was my precious baby, blonde hair cascading down. I had never looked at her, really looked at her as a man would.

My heavens, she had really grown up. She was about five foot six, about 110 lbs., with a figure that must have been 34C-22-35. She was just big enough up top to be sexy, like Bo Derek. Her waist pinched in nicely, what they call an hourglass figure I think. Her butt was cute, with two little dimples about her ripe little buns. Her legs were always tanned from the perpetual California sun. Even her feet were sexy, with a gold ankle bracelet on one slender ankle above them. I noticed that my insistence that she use the lighter of my old weights for the cheer tryout paid off. She was no Arnold but she did have well-defined ‘guns’, feminine but sexy. I figured that the women judging her for the team might appreciate a strong, sexy chick for the senior year class. They also needed someone strong enough to hold up another cheerleader during their pyramid routine.

Well, Heather tried out and got on the team. She told me that she was going to stay overnight at the women’s gym coach’s house. She saw my worried look and re-assured me.

Heather: “Daddy, I am a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

Really? Maybe not. Later, she told the following at her sleepover: She said the gym coach made a horrible dinner, with organic food, wheat grass juice, and carob chocolate (the only thing she liked.) They then retired to her living room in front of a roaring fire. They got on this Persian carpet and somehow Heather found herself lying against the broad shouldered, burly, women’s coach. Then the coach’s powerful hands were clawing at Heather’s ‘property of SF Giants’ t-shirt, pulling it up to Heather’s chin. She roughly felt my baby’s plump breasts, causing her darling pink nipples to erect. Then the coach’s hands went down to Heather’s arms, feeling her modest bulging biceps. She then leaned forward over her, and showed Heather HER arms. While my baby lifted weights to get strong enough for that tryout, this coach was bodybuilding to the max. Heather said it was awesome, even if she wasn’t ‘into girls’. That woman’s guns must have been 20 inches round. Heather didn’t know if she was trying to turn her on, or let her know who was in charge there, that night. Either way, she (Heather) would not complain about anything that followed. She said it was like a one-night stand, with Wonder Woman. güvenilir bahis

The coach directed Heather to stand, then to sit in this ‘seat’ she formed with her two powerful hands. She did, sitting her pert bum on those two manly hands. The coach then came forward, using her tongue in a way that my baby had never felt before. In spite of her resistance to ‘woman’s love’, Heather looked to the drop ceiling, moaning in pleasure. The coach’s tongue was relentless. She finally let up when my baby shrieked a last blast of ecstasy. She sagged into the coach’s arms like a rag doll. Heather awoke early the next morning. Even in her sleep, the coach had pulled the bed covers and was literally devouring my baby’s perfection with her hungry eyes. When her hands gently stroked the soft soles of her gorgeous feet, Heather was awakened. She quickly dressed and left, having put in her time. She was made head cheerleader.

That sleep-over? The girls on the cheer team always had a last sleepover at the house of one of the graduating senior girls at the start of the year. I lucked out and it was held at my place. All the great gossip you just read and the following fun cost me two delivered pizzas and two big bottles of soda.

There were four girls, all over 18, senior class cheerleaders. Having listened to the sexy account by Heather of her deflowering by the burly women’s gym coach, I was already excited. Now here were four incredible babes. Besides Heather, there was a redhead and two brunettes. It was a crazy chance, and I knew Heather would be livid, but I had to try.

I’ve seen a thousand of these PJ parties in movies and TV, and it always seemed the chicks got super horny about midway through. I had just turned 40, but working in the shop 60 hours a week, with weights on weekends, I wasn’t too bad looking. Maybe I was a bit too old for them, but who’s perfect?

Anyway, I put on an old-fashioned T-shirt (sleeveless) and exercise pants with a drawstring. I also wore something underneath to make sure Mr. Johnson wasn’t poking out; on the other hand, they could see ‘him’ lying on his side, all ten inches of him.

I came into the room. Three girls’ eyes lit up like Vegas hotel marquees, while Heather turned red, with steam coming out of her ears. I innocently asked the babes if they needed anything. That was when they asked about pizza and I whipped out the old cellphone and ordered. The redhead made fun of my cellphone (what, no TV, camera, or internet? No texting??) I coughed, accidentally making my love log jump for their delectation. I then gave Heather $30 for the pizza and told them I’d be taking a shower and then hitting the hay.

From upstairs, I could hear the pizza guy arrive and depart. The girls settled down to serious eating and gabbing. Then they played ‘truth or dare’. Sure enough, one dare was to sneak up and peek at me in the shower, when I took one. Like clockwork, I stopped eavesdropping and jumped into the shower. Just as I hoped, within 3 minutes, there were shadows in the hall. I had purposely left the door ajar and the shower curtain open three feet. They were giggling riotously, pushing each other out of the way to take a peak. Just to ‘mess with them’, I would wash my arms (that women’s gym coach wasn’t the only one in town with big guns) and finally lather my ten inch pride and joy. If only I had Superman’s hearing I could’ve heard the soft slide of skin against skin as all four girls (including Heather) had their nipples pop. All four of them got sopping wet. I had made those brash 18 year old sluts horny as hell. I hoped another ‘truth or dare’ would ensue.

As I turned off the shower, the girls scurried downstairs with the subtlety of a stampede of Texas longhorns. I was careful to be so noisy that they could easily track my movements, including my sigh as I settled onto my kingsized bed.

As I hoped, they had another ‘truth or dare’. And yes, the loser (or was it the winner?) had to come into my room and touch pussy lips to cock without getting caught! Carla, the redhead, was at the head of the pack. She was stripped naked by the other girls. To the shock of her friends, one of the brunettes (Arlene) then kissed the pouting nipple of Carla. Carla was stunned but nonetheless smoothed Arlene’s hair as she suckled, waiting for her to finish.

Now it was time for action. Carla told the girls to look away; she bent down and pulled on ‘the string’ drooping out of her womanhood, pulling it out and throwing it away. Then Carla summoned her courage and came in, on delicate tiptoes, her beautiful smooth feet making no sound. As the other girls made muted sounds of laughter, Carla swung a tanned, shapely leg over my sleeping body. To avoid waking me, she was on all fours, but not on her knees. That made her much higher. She then lowered herself slowly, seeing her trophy within sight. All of a sudden, in my ‘sleep’ (ha ha), I coughed, making my ten inch telephone pole rise up from my stomach at a 45 degree angle. That was türkçe bahis the precise angle needed and she fell on top of me. The three girls went wild, high-fiving each other and giggling. I pretended to awake at that moment.

Carla: “Oh my God! I am so sorry; this must look terrible. How can I make this up to you, so you won’t tell my parents?”

Now, a good man would’ve said ‘no harm done, dear’. I guess I’m not a good man, after all. I just smiled luridly at her, put my two powerful hands on her pert bum, and pressed her harder and deeper on top of me. She gasped in awe of my ten inch babymaker.

Carla: “Before you do anything, you better know that I think it’s the man’s responsibility to take care of birth control. For your information, I am unprotected and probably real fertile. I can feel every inch of your cock inside of me. Now don’t tell me you had a vasectomy. Promise me you’ll pull out in time or will marry me if not.”

As the girls’ laughs turned to astonishment, I grabbed Carla’s perfect little ass, clutching her desperately. My oversized cockhead had rattled around inside her sacred chamber but now was prepared to flood her cervical area with potent seed. I might have appeared to be an ancient relic, at 40, but I packed more meat than any of her sissy high school boys. More importantly, my testes were at least twice the size and four times the volume of those mama’s boys. As the three girls in the hall watched in living color, my bloated balls moved, preparing for ‘lift off’.

Six eyeballs the size of dinner plates watched as my balls moved up like a powerful wave machine. They could actually see the few inches of my cock swell as the tidal wave arrived and then passed. That fist sized tsunami traveled the length of my mighty cock until it emerged thru the tiny slit in my cockhead. The tiny slit was temporarily the size of a thumb as it acted like a fire hose, powerfully bathing her scratchy, tingling, depths with soothing, warm fluid. Almost every drop of my potent seed ended up swelling her fertile womb.

I rolled off her and just lay still. Groggy, she got up and staggered out. What had begun with an innocent ‘truth or dare’ might have changed her life. Three sets of hands pushed her into the hall bathroom to ‘clean her out’. Instead, to their surprise, she gathered her clothes and went out to her Mustang. She drove home, my cum dripping out of her seed-filled pussy, making a huge puddle on the carpet. I’m ashamed to admit that I prayed that I had gotten her pregnant, that she would conceive. Later that night, she did indeed conceive.

It’s an odd coincidence that the school year is about nine months long. After five months, she had to leave the cheer team and two months after that, high school. I should have felt terrible, but seeing that gorgeous young redhead with a swollen belly made me feel proud as hell. [She ended up getting a GED right after giving birth to a baby girl…my baby girl.]

Of the two remaining girls (besides Heather), one of the brunettes dashed out right after Carla. The other, Arlene, went into my room. I was still out like a light, Mr. Johnson also being asleep. She sat down gently on my bed. Her small delicate hands went to work on old Mr. Johnson. It took three key-hole pumps to get me up, hard as a rock. She then just cupped and weighed my swollen testes with one hand while ‘pump priming’ with the other. Soon enough, I was fully re-charged and ready for action.

Arlene took a new tact. She got on her back, right next to me. We lay there side by side while she whispered sweet nothings in my ear. Asleep or not, when she whispered that she was off the pill, fertile, and wanted my baby, that got me up and over, leaping on top of her. Heather looked on with mixed emotions as yet another of her friends was being ‘seeded’. This time I wanted the world to know that this was neither my idea nor a matter of me taking advantage of anyone.

Me: “So what do you want me to do to you, young lady?”

Arlene: “Make me all grown-up, finally. Make love to me like I was a grown woman and make me pregnant. I want to get knocked up by you; I swear I will carry that baby to term and give birth. Please, give me your precious seed…I want your baby!”

Me: “Your wish is my command, my lady.”

Now fully revived and energized, I somehow managed to summon the strength to give this young woman the fucking of her life. At the key moment, I clutched her tightly, thus penetrating her to the cervix. It was so coordinated–the issuance of life-giving seed for her by my powerful cock, followed by a perfect suction of the seed into her cervix. Once again, my balls which had been swollen to the bursting point unloaded their invaluable cargo deeply inside Heather’s friend. Soon her single ovum was engulfed in my still vibrant and potent seed. Like her friends before her, she quickly dressed and left after having sex. When she got home, her mother insisted upon giving her a ‘booster’ lecture on avoiding unwanted güvenilir bahis siteleri pregnancy. As her mother droned on about children without fathers, her innocent daughter Arlene sat before her, conceiving my baby. With Arlene as with the other young woman, her ritzy parents dreaded associating her with me in any way, so they just let their impotent boyfriends think that they ‘did the deed’. That saved me a fortune in legal fees.

Now we get to my darling daughter Heather again. With her friends all gone, Heather actually steeled herself and entered my room. She sat down on the edge of the bed.

Me: “Honey, are you okay. Do you hate me for what I did? I swear that I never initiated anything…really.”

Heather: “Oh, daddy, I know you didn’t. They threw themselves at you as part of a dare; now they might well end up with swollen tummies from my daddy.”

She noticed when she mentioned ‘swollen tummies’ my cock lurched and pumped to iron hardness with an audible ‘slap’. It was just nature…my cock was designed for that job and none other. Anyway, I had her get me a robe. I put it on in bed, got up, and carried my exhausted baby to her room. I kissed her on the forehead and left her room.

Flash forward a year: to my joy, Heather had finished high school, magna cum laude. On the other hand, instead of accepting a scholarship to UC-Berkeley, she chose to wed the scion of a wealthy family. I ended up renting a tux and sneaking into the country club for the reception. It all was so beautiful; Heather and her husband looked like the bride and groom on top of the huge cake.

Flash forward six more months: I was called to the police station (by the way, this is where we first started.) Sitting there, in an orange jumpsuit, was my precious Heather. We had been out of contact for months. I was allowed to talk to her, for 30 minutes, in ‘private’. The story she told me was one I wouldn’t wish on anyone:

Heather had a lavish honeymoon in one of the ‘Sandals’ Bahamian resorts. Everything was incredible until John, her new husband, ‘laid the law’ unto her. She had to keep it quiet: he was operating a big ‘grow house’ (closed up home with artificial lighting, normally for growing marijuana.) He proudly said he did not have to use his parents’ wealth to get by. He also was ‘violating the territory’ of ‘Los Cuchillos’, a local spin-off of a Tijuana gang. They even left a calling card for him, with their real number and a real bullet hole.

Heather of course was in shock. She felt worse when he grabbed her by her blonde hair, saying that she now worked for him…or else! She had to stay at the ‘grow house’ 24/7, tending the plants and reporting any intruders, law enforcement or otherwise. There were no phone lines and all doors and windows were secured—from the outside. All she had was a cell phone, but he had a friend rig it so that it only could call him. When she said that she was leaving—now—he gave her a slap and the black eye that followed. Another time, her nose was made to look rather crooked. That was bad enough, but he pulled a little 22 and shot right past her, actually nicking her ear. This was just to put the fear into her, but she certainly couldn’t be sure it wasn’t a real attempt. It was ironic, if not perfectly just, that HE would be re-acquainted with that caliber when his ‘friends’ caught up with him.

So here was this honors graduate, the belle of my eye, stuck in a criminal operation. Within seven days, he was back, telling her that he was concerned the Cuchillos were closing in. He was leaving town for his safety but she would stay and ‘man the fort’!! And so he totally deserted her.

Three days later, the cops got an anonymous tip about a ‘grow house’. When they arrived, they found my wonderful daughter, dehydrated and semi-conscious. That gang had done a number on her too. They then proceeded to take the plants, adding insult to injury. They left one plant behind so she could be caught and prosecuted.

The district attorney, a beautiful woman in her own right, believed the story of Heather, although it had spooky ‘Patty Hearst’ qualities to it. If Heather could produce her husband for arraignment, she would be released for time served upon her testimony in court. Problem was she was sitting in jail; she had no idea where he was.

I thought of something after awhile. Her husband used to live in the wealthy family’s estate compound. It was so hard to get in; the police had to arrange an appointment. The family was so powerful that the county courthouse had his grandfather’s name on it. There was no way the DA would get a search warrant from the local judge–another family member.

Well, for $20, I paid one of the employees of the only pizza delivery place in our area to call me immediately if that family ordered out. I used an employee of mine for the actual contact with the pizza dude, and he called a temporary cellphone number. I was just being careful. Three weeks later, the pizza dude called me. I then went directly to those big gates with their copper cladding, awaiting that front door to open. As I watched from a 90 degree angle, the delivery guy went to the front door and, yes, Heather’s punk husband answered the door.

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