Daddy's Home - New Life Ch. 01 Pt. 01

_[pre-story]Content warnings: Unrealistic anatomy, incest


Will took a deep breath and folded the slip of paper with the address scrawled on it and tucked it into his pocket. He'd worn his best khakis and a dress shirt, he'd even put on a tie, which he tugged at, uncomfortably, but he still felt underdressed as he stood in front of the enormous house. The word 'Mansion' seemed more appropriate for the looming, finely-decorated structure, but not quite right, either, it didn't have expansive gardens or miles of lawn, though it did have a rather impressive parking area. It was tall, too, at least five stories. It almost seemed like a hotel, but that wasn't quite right either, it was definitely a private residence. The girls he'd asked for directions had called it 'the Johnson House'.

"Please state your name and business." A voice said through the speaker, sounding rather curt and serious.

"There's no need to shout, Mr. Thomas, I can hear you just fine. You're right on time, I'll be down to collect you momentarily." The voice replied, cool and calm, and a little warmer than before, before cutting off and leaving Will to stand there in silence.

While Will continued to lament his choice of clothes, he soon heard something from the other side of the door, the rhythmic click-click-click of high heels on tile floors. The doorknob clicked, then turned, and the door swung open, revealing a woman standing behind it, but not just any woman. Will had to stop his eyes from bugging out at the sight of her. Her long, silky black hair was pulled up into a tight bun, which, coupled with the tall heels she wore, gave her enough height to look him squarely in the eyes. She had smooth, pale skin with just a hint of a golden-tan undertone to it, a round face and narrow eyes, though whether they were like that naturally or if she was just giving him a rather pointed look was unclear. She was dressed cleanly and professionally, the collar of a white undershirt peeking out from under burgundy red suit jacket which gave way to a tight skirt of matching color that hugged her thighs to about the halfway point. Her long, shapely legs were covered with tight, semi-sheer black pantyhose, and on her feet she wore tall, burgundy stiletto heels that must have added almost six inches to her height. But more important than what she was wearing was what she was wearing it ON. She had a body that could only be described as jaw-dropping, those long, slender legs somehow transitioned into an ass that looked like two halves of a volleyball, twin hemispheres, perfectly round and looking tight enough to bounce a quarter off. Her waist was tiny, and the suit jacket pulled in to accentuate it, which made her chest seem even more spectacular, her breasts thrust out from her chest, firm and proud, like a pair of ripe cantaloupes. Her dress shirt seemed to strain over the shelf of her cleavage, the buttons pulling against the material, though they didn't pull quite hard enough to offer a glimpse of what lay beneath.

Will closed the door behind himself as he entered the building and followed the woman in silence. He couldn't help but watch her rounded hips roll as she led the way, her tight backside bouncing slightly with each step, the movements emphasized by the tight, clinging material of her skirt. Will could hardly believe what he was seeing. This woman had a body that belonged on a model, or maybe a porn star. Some women paid thousands of dollars for surgeries and implants trying to come close to a body like hers, and she wasn't even trying to show it off, he could only imagine what she'd look like in something more revealing...

Will tore his eyes away from the well-dressed woman's backside, with great difficulty, and tried to get a better look at his surroundings. The mansion's entranceway was a tall, spacious chamber of polished marble tile, clean, white surfaces, finely decorated and well lit, with a pair of curved staircases leading up to a balcony that looked down on the front door and a walkway that extended out in both directions, hugging the far wall and then continuing onto the sides of the room. It was a very classically 'fancy' sort of look, but there weren't nearly as many gaudy baubles as one might expect, just a few vases here and there bearing bundles of flowers. All around the main floor, there were portraits hung on the walls, two on either side and one in the center, framed by the curved staircases, and as Will took a closer look, he found each one to bear the image of stunningly beautiful woman, all very different, but each uniquely impressive, with flowing gowns emphasizing their best features. At first, will assumed the portraits were antiques, but no, as he looked them over there were details that showed their age as much more recent, a flat screen TV in the background of one, a smartphone laying on a table in another...

The woman in the suit started up one of the staircases, and once more, Will found it all but impossible not to stare, with her tight, round backside swaying directly in front of his face as they ascended. With every stride, it shifted slightly, one side lifting up and tightening as the other relaxed, her tight skirt creasing just underneath the swell of it to further emphasize its presence. Each step she climbed, the hem of her skirt rode a tiny bit higher, exposing more of her stocking-clad thighs... Will hardly even noticed when they reached the top of the stairs, he was so entranced by the view, but he did snap out of the hypnotic daze of her spectacular ass when she paused at the top of the stairs and spoke.

"Ah, Kanae, it's good to see you... How is your mother, dear?" A small, elderly voice replied.

As will crested the final step, he turned to look at the yet-unseen figure, putting on a broad smile. "Pleased to meet you, Ma'am..." He began, but then... drifted off, suddenly unsettled. The woman standing before him was old, that much was clear, though she still carried herself well, she wasn't hunched over, nor did she have a cane or walker or the like. She was quite short, dressed in a simple Japanese-style robe and slippers, but what made Will suddenly drift off was the way she was staring at him, her eyes wide with disbelief, a wrinkled hand coming up to cover her mouth. There was a moment of awkward silence, Will not sure of what to say and Kanae not certain what what going on.

Will blinked in confusion.

Will followed her gaze and found himself speechless. The portrait depicted a man, a very familiar-looking man, tall and powerfully-built , with short black hair, bright blue eyes, a square jaw, and a broad, beaming smile. He was shirtless, his broad, muscular shoulders, his slab-like pecs, and his rugged abs all on display as he struck a heroic pose, fists planted on his hips and his chest pushed out. It seemed familiar, Will realized, because the man looked just like his father, with just a little less fat and a little more muscle, and, in turn, just like the face he saw in the mirror every day. Will's hair was a little shorter, and a little lighter, more of a deep brown than straight black, and the man in the painting didn't have a scar on his temple from the time he fell off his bike and landed on a rock, but other than that... the resemblance was uncanny.

Disclaimer: All characters are 18+[/pre-story]_

Daddy's Home: New Life; Chapter 1, Part 1

Will shook his head, shaking off his doubts, leaned over, and pushed the doorbell. He could hear bells chiming from somewhere on the other side of the door, playing some fragment of a song, before falling silent once more... but nothing happened. Will stood there, shuffling from one foot to the other, uncertain, for what felt like far too long. But as his impatience overcame her nerves and he reached for the doorbell once more, an electric crackle startled him as the intercom came to life.

"Uh, my name is William, William Thomas, and I uh, I have an appointment to meet with a, uh, Miss Yoshida?" Will replied, trying to speak loudly enough to be heard through the speaker.

Time seemed to crawl by as Will waited, shifting around to try and find a stance that made him look respectable but not stuffy. He hated dress clothes, they just didn't make them to fit guys built like him, every time he shifted he felt the fabric bind around his biceps, or pull tight across his shoulders, his collar felt tight around his neck, and the tie just made it that much worse. It always felt like if he moved too much it would just tear right off him.

The woman cleared her throat, and Will realized he'd been staring, forcing himself to rip his eyes away from her chest, his expression horrified. He opened his mouth to apologize, but hesitated as an unreadable expression flickered across her face. Before he could recover, she turned away and gestured him to follow. "Please follow me, Mr. Thomas, we can discuss this in my office." She instructed, not bothering to look back at him, focused instead on the small tablet she cradled in her arm. Will blinked, confused, but she was already walking away, heels clicking on the tile floor as she strode across the room with purpose, and he had no choice but to quickly follow or be left behind.

Hers wasn't the only spectacular figure he'd noticed. As he'd drove through town, he couldn't help but notice it- it seemed like half the women he passed had jaw-dropping figures, hips and thighs and asses that peeked out from under the hems of too-short skirts or yoga pants that were stretched until they were practically transparent, breasts ranging from the size of grapefruits to the size of his head! Lots of them had kids in tow, and there were more than a few of them walking around with obviously pregnant bellies, too. There were guys, too, guys with broad, muscular frames that looked like bodybuilders, but they weren't hanging around gyms, they were just out walking the streets, doing normal stuff. When he couldn't find the address on his note, he'd asked the nearest girls for directions, but they'd had to repeat them for him a couple times because he couldn't stop his eyes from drifting down to the miles of cleavage they'd put on display when they'd bent forward to talk to him. It was the weirdest thing, he knew they must have caught him looking, he definitely couldn't have been being particularly subtle about it, but they hadn't gotten angry or anything, instead, that unreadable expression he'd just seen once again had flickered across their faces and then they'd simply giggled and repeated their directions.

There was a red-haired woman with a bright, playful smile, her skin dusted with cinnamon freckles, wearing a dress with a corset that pushed a pair of breast that looked like they were each the size of her head up and together until they looked like they were about to burst free, overflowing her top entirely. A woman with rich mahogany skin wearing a sleek, backless dress stood with her back to the viewer, looking back over her shoulder toward them as she leaned against a wall, the painter lovingly capturing the sculpt of the muscles in her arms, shoulders, and back, before turning his attention to capturing the spectacular swell of her round hips and the way the tight-fitting dress strained to contain her glorious ass. A Japanese woman in a colorful kimono, kneeling amid grass and flowers, looking up at the viewer longingly, the neckline of her kimono slightly loosened, offering a tantalizing glimpse of her pale, smooth cleavage. A bronze-skinned woman with long, curly black hair, sitting in a chair by a window, sunlight pouring through it and pooling around her as she looked wistfully out the window, one hand up at her eye-popping chest, idly toying with a locket, the other resting placidly on the swell of her very pregnant belly, while down below her dress rode up to show off her long, supple legs. And at the center, a woman with pale skin, long, black hair, and dark purple-black makeup, wearing a lacy black dress with a corset that pushed her massive breasts up into cleavage that Will found it hard to look away from.

"Ah, good afternoon, grandmother." She said, putting her feet together and giving a short bow.

"I'm sorry, Grandmother, but I can't talk right now, I have to discuss some legal matters with Mr. Thomas at the moment." She explained, turning slightly to gesture at Will.

Finally, the old woman spoke. "...Darling?" she asked, her voice soft and trembling.

The old woman's expression fell, her eyes watering. "No... No, of course not... He's... I'm sorry, dear, I just... I was a little surprised." She muttered, shaking her head as she moved to lean against a nearby railing. "You just... you look JUST like he did..." The old woman explained, her eyes turning to a very large portrait that hung at the top of the dual stairs.

Below the painting, there was a brass plaque, with words and numbers engraved into the metal in flowing script. 'Richard Johnson, 1978-2065'

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