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Timmy Mac’s Summer Camp Adventures, Simpsons 1	By : Wendell Urth Category: -Misc Cartoons > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 1981 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Disclaimer:The Simpsons,The Fairly Odd Parents &Foster’s Home For Imaginary Friends and all associated or other characters belong to their respective creators and owners,not me. I receive no compensation.

Chapter List
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04: Breaking Her In
Location: Simpson’s Residence
Over the next few weeks Bart used and abused his Imaginary sister. It was fun. He also used her for pranks, but had to be careful not to expose her existence.
For example: Drunken Homer was being forced to sleep on the couch. Marge had had enough of his crawling home at 4:00 AM, too drunk to make it up the stairs… to get a solid three hours of sleep before getting up for work.
In the darkened living room, an unseen figure crept up on the snoring man in his underwear. She pulled it down, his old wrinkled yellow cock was huge along with his hanging yellow balls. Using her ‘Seduction Protocols’, invisible Imaginary Lisa had him hard in a few moments. She had the skills of a hundred professional whores and using tongue, lips and throat had him dumping copious amounts of cum down her throat in a few minutes. Sticking three fingers up his drunken ass to massage his huge prostate, she had him dumping another cum load in her gullet. Homer opened a bleary eye, saw nothing and went back to sleep... with a smile on his face. She waited till he drifted off and milked him a third time.
Her belly swelled, she punched herself in the stomach and began to spew a cum trail from Homer, across the living room rug (and a basket of Marge’s clean laundry), up the stairs across some of Maggie’s toys to the door of Lisa’s room. Chemicals in Imaginary Lisa’s gut guaranteed the cum would remain drippy and nearly impossible to clean.
Homer was exiled to the garage for the foreseeable future, everyone was looking at Lisa strangely. Did the trail end at her room or did it begin there? Marge began wondering about her daughter. Marge was concerned. Was she married to a drunken pedophile? Or worse, to her mind, did her daughter seduce her own father?

Lisa had recently discovered the joy of exploring her body, the things that happened when she touched herself were all new and wonderful. A finger here, a tug there. Gentle stroking, penetration, fingering. Her body was a musical instrument and she was learning to play the chords of joy & pleasure. She wished she had someone she could discuss this with. To share it. She had for a few days with Lollipop-Star who had shown her a few things. She learned that someone else’s fingers, lips and tongue could be a greater pleasure than her own. And Lollipop-Star knew so much! But then she was gone forever. Lisa was alone again, in a house full of people she couldn’t talk to.
Until one night…
Lisa had drifted off to sleep when she felt a hand on her breast. She screamed and threw back the covers, convinced Bart had… nothing. Her mother came running in. Lisa convinced her it was a bad dream. Marge looked at her suspiciously, then wished her a “Good night”.
Lisa crawled back into bed. Was it a ghost? She didn’t believe in ghosts. She lay back. The hand was there again. Gentle, rubbing and tugging, stroking. Lisa jumped up again… alone.
That was all, the first night.
Next night:
Her nightie kept bunching up… uncomfortable. Finally, Lisa shrugged it off, just left in her panties. She dozed. She found that somehow her hand had found its way in and her middle finger was pressed inside herself, tickling, probing. It was like someone else was in control, but she didn’t mind. The sensations were too good. Her hands, now skillful. She began to moan into her pillow. It was wonderful. Wonderful. Her first real orgasm. She drifted off to sleep, her fingers all sticky and moist. For a moment she dreamed that someone had kissed her on the lips. She smiled. Impossible.
Things began to happen to Lisa at school. Little things at first. Homework disappearing, dropping things at odd times. She was rarely that clumsy. All the reeds on her saxophone had disappeared so she missed an audition, then they turned up in the saxophone case right where she had left them. She blamed Bart. But he wouldn’t have known about the reeds. She blamed everything bad on her brother and lately he had seemed unusually sympathetic.
Then she had been accused of stealing Janie’s bracelet. People swore they saw her wearing it outside of school, but she insisted she had been in the library at the time. The bracelet eventually turned up. But her friends began looking at her funny…
Marge had stopped talking to Homer all together. She had a phobia about cum and trying to scrub it from the halls and walls and toys and laundry made her puke several times. Homer was not only sleeping in the garage; he was now living there. He cut back on his drinking, hoping to get back into Marge’s good graces.

A few nights later: Midnight, Homer turning restlessly on a camp cot. Hands stroking his unshaven cheeks, a kiss. Her began to smile, dreaming of cheeseburgers. Hands, pulling down his underwear. “Oh Margie!” he moaned, happy to have been forgiven at last. He turned on his back in the darkness. Outline of a woman between his fat legs, working his cock over until he was hard. More than hard, he was a rock, a tower. His dear wife mounted him, drove herself deep on his shaft. Silent as she always tried to be because of the kids nearby. “Ahhhhhh” Marge was tight, so tight. This was Marge as she was before the kids. “Tight, baby!” She got tighter, she slammed herself down on his rock-hard cock with effort.
He reached for Marge’s tits, her familiar fat breasts and found… nubbins!
Too tight! This wasn’t Marge, it couldn’t be”
He opened his eyes, saw blonde curls. He was fucking his daughter, his little Lisa. Or she was fucking him, impaling herself. There was blood everywhere. He tried to push her off as she continued sliding painfully down his shaft and up again. He couldn’t shake her off. He grabbed her around the chest and threw her against the side of the car. Her little slit was a gaping wound, it wouldn’t close. She was dripping, dripping, but whether it was his cum or blood he couldn’t tell in the darkness. He tried to stand up, but whether to comfort his little girl or kill her, he didn’t know. She had disappeared. He turned around and was struck from behind with a tire iron.
Meanwhile, the real Lisa was asleep in her room. She had cried herself to sleep until her invisible friend, or whatever was going on at night had come to her. Kisses in the darkness, in places no one had ever kissed her before… well maybe Lollipop-Star had. But not so deep. She didn’t believe in ghosts and was too old for an Imaginary Friend. But whatever was happening to her at night, was the only good thing in her life.
Homer was found unconscious on the garage floor the next morning. He had a lump on his head and no explanation. Marge told him it would be better if he moved out. Maybe this time for good. For a change, he didn’t argue.
Goodbyes to Marge (she turned away when he tried to kiss her), kissed Maggie and shook hands with Bart. He refused to look Lisa in the eye. In fact, he couldn’t stand to be in the same room with her. It hurt his little girl… but he let it happen.
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Timmy Mac’s Summer Camp Adventures, Simpsons 1