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Gosalyn's Gambit	By : MrFanFIction Category: +1 through F > Darkwing Duck Views: 4403 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Darkwing Duck, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 5 - CARNAL Revelations
It had all started nine months ago; well that was when she had made up her mind about it. The idea had crept into the back of her head a while before that she suspected but she never acknowledged it. It was before Honker had joined her in crime fighting but not too long before. She was enjoying a little down time. In front of the TV, Reheated pizza slices on a plate and a glass of Freshly Squeezed, Partially Hydrogenated Orange Juice in hand and the remote in the other. It was a hot Saturday morning and a long night before. She'd take the time to sleep once noon rolled around but for now...Toons!
She may have been fourteen but she'd be plucked before she gave up that joy. Though she did admit some of the cartoons were becoming less 'engaging'; you could only watch the Mystery Wagon team de Mask a wrinkled old guy so many times before it lost all meaning. Did it ever have a meaning? She tapped her beak, but whatever insight into maturity she was about to ponder went out the door when her father came in. She couldn't see him, with the couch facing away from the stairs, but she was aware of the shadow and the foot steps. Her training was making her ever more aware of little details like that.
***
"Morning Dad" she called putting her hand up to wave.
That's what started it. Her hand went up and the pizza plate went down off her lap; it was pepperoni pineapple Supreme with its still gooey cheese. The Pizza Shack was famous for that their ever-gooey cheese was practically a trademark and of course, the pizza went cheese side down onto the carpet. The cheese would make a mess of the beige berber carpet if it wasn't attended to quickly, not to mention the tomato sauce. The slice hadn't even fully landed before she saw herself spending her Saturday morning scrubbing the stains out of the carpet, again. Maybe he hadn't noticed.
'Fat chance of that' her ever-helpful inner-voice quipped.
Still, she wagered she could get the pizza off the carpet before it got much worse. She leaned forward, eased her weight off the couch seat and reached for the plate.
"Morning Gosalyn-*ghk*" her father replied.
Well that was peachy, if he hadn't noticed the spill before he certainly did now; that 'ghk' never meant anything good. So much for watching toons, might as well get the scrub brush.
"Yeah I know 'clean that mess right now or no TV'" she did her best deadpan parody of the oh-so-familiar lecture.
That bit of smart mouthing wouldn't do her any favours but it was still funny for her. She bent down again to pick up a few stray bits of pepperoni and pineapple chunks from the carpet. The cheese was next. The good news was that there wasn't that much tomato sauce splatter, the extra cheese had ironically created a shield. Halfway through she realised something was wrong. It had been a minute and a half since the plate overturned, 80 seconds since her dad's interrupted 'good morning', and it was completely quiet, well except for the TV; the Blastbots were uncovering the scheme of the ruthless Terrordroids. That was odd, he should have been giving her the parental lecture number 11 - 'You need to be more careful'. Maybe he was too groggy to notice, but then why hadn’t she heard any footsteps? She did not want to look a gift horse in the mouth, besides, she had just about done, the were was a little bit of tomato and cheese stain, but that was nothing a little club soda and ice couldn’t deal with.
'Or was that toothpaste and bleach?' she thought to herself absently.
***
She stood and turned, taking the plate in one hand and her orange juice, hundred percent natural artificial flavour, heading for the kitchen and on the periphery of her vision, she saw it. It was a brief second but she saw it, her father was staring with a weird, look on his face. At first, she wasn't sure she'd seen it, the look had vanished as quickly as she'd noticed it. What she could be sure of was that he hadn't moved an inch since he started saying good morning. There was something eerily familiar about how quickly that fleeting look had vanished.
Spoiled pizza slices in the rubbish, plate and glass in the sink, scrub-brush and club soda out of the cleaning closet. Her father passed her coming in, there was something odd about his walk. Odd and familiar. She caught herself glancing down as she passed him in the doorway and was certain she the bulge in the front of her father's casual corduroy shorts was no illusion. She was fourteen and had seen enough teenage boys to know when someone was trying to hide a boner. She was two steps out the door when it came to her…that imagined look on his face. She had seen it before, or something like it, on Honker every time she caught him looking at her legs or up her skirts, on the rare occasion she didn't where shorts.
‘Was Dad just..? Nah couldn't be...’ the seed had been planted, her mind was already playing over the events, except this time she imagined herself where her father had been:
***
He had come down the stairs; he could see her pigtails over the back of the couch. He would have stepped closer to get a better look at what she was watching. He would be able to see to pigtails and most of her noggin by now. He sees the hand go up and wave.
"Morning Dad"
That would be when the plate dropped. He had come closer to see what had dropped, two steps, three, that'd be about when he started to speak
"Good morning Gosalyn-*ghk*"
Now she saw what he saw. She was wearing, not much. It was morning, Launchpad was never up this early; he would still be snoozing off last night's patrol so she wasn't wearing anything other than a shirt. It was a large thing, over-sized lilac T-shirt with a big number 9 stencilled in white on the front. It was a copy of her favourite shirt when she was younger, just well scaled up to fit her. Not a very modest thing without the shorts she would normally have worn. She saw herself bend over and forward from where she expected her dad's POV to be and she saw, saw that she had given her dear father an eyeful of her sunny, yellow underwear. She wasn't typically keen on lady-like behaviour, which both appalled and relieved her father. Appalled, because she was not a proper lady and very much a tomboy; relieved because he likely did not fancy the idea of Gosalyn being a typical girly-girl and entertaining notions of dating boys.
'He was checking me out!' her inner voice sounded surprisingly bubbly over that notion.
She was already on her knees scrubbing the carpet. Would he be just out of sight somewhere behind her? Would she catch a glimpse of him ducking around a corner if she turned her head quickly? The thought sent a familiar tingle shooting down from her belly to ‘that spot' between her legs. She didn't turn around. It was more fun to imagine. Her dad had caught a glimpse, she was sure of it. The boner that he was trying to hide when he walked past was proof of that.
'Or just morning wood.'
'Be Quiet!' she snapped back at the inner voice.
***
It was more fun to imagine she was right, imagine that her adopted father had for a brief moment seen her not as a kid, not as a daughter but as a 'woman'.
‘Well, woman enough to spring a boner.’
The tingle grew stronger and things began to get a little... sensitive. She was now aware of the cotton fabric of her underwear, the feel of it. She distracted herself with the scrubbing, though the berber was clean some two minutes ago. The more she scrubbed the, more she imagined. Was he peeking out from behind the kitchen doorway? In her minds eye she could see him; watching her on hands and knees as she scrubbed. The shirt didn’t do a thing to hide the yellow cotton covering her bum. It wasn't just a tingle anymore. She tried to focus on the cleaning; not that there was anything left to clean the spot was now whiter than the surrounding. Was he squeezing it? Was he rubbing himself through his pants? Did he have 'it' out and in his hand? Gosalyn, who was more sexually aware than her father would have imagined in his worst nightmares, was having her first fantasy, well not the first but the first one that actually had her feeling 'wet' down there.
She needed to get upstairs. She dropped the brush, and dashed for the stairs. She didn't even try to look behind her; No, she wanted to keep imagining. She bounded up the steps, two at a time. That cotton was going to finish her before she could get to her room. Did the fabric always feel like this? So wonderfully textured? How did she even survive the day with it rubbing against her lips like that? Second floor, almost there.
***
‘Bathroom’ the inner suggested.
She didn't question, she turned a sharp left, practically shouldered the door off its hinges to get in. She’d likely have to explain the bruise later. The door slammed, her back pinning it firmly shut while her hand dove into her panties. She'd never been this wet before, not without her fingers. Her father would have been shocked into moulting if he ever found out just what sort of things his little girl did. Her fingers found her cleft among the damp downy feathers and slipped between, then sparks, a yelp and a slick dampness over her fingers while her body went rigid as steel. She had never come this quickly before, her fingers were still, just allowing herself to bask in the afterglow like she usually did. There was a knock.
"Gosalyn? Are you okay? Did you slip?" It was her father's voice.
The concern was genuine. He'd heard her climactic yelp from all the way downstairs. Had she really been that loud? She was usually much more careful,
"Y-yes Dad. I-I'm okay" she replied, her voice trembling and hitching just a little.
"You don't sound okay. I'm.."
"No! It's alright Dad, I just-" she looked around hurriedly; she was in the bathroom. She had to think of some plausible excuse for that yelp before her father's internal worst-case nightmares had him dropkicking the door to rescue her from a bathtub fall. "- the seat was left up”.
Perfect! Had the sound come from her bedroom she would have a much, harder time of explaining it.
"Oh... I'll have to speak to Launchpad about that perhaps" he said from the other side of the door.
The tingle was returning. It had been too fast last time. She needed to do it slowly, properly, take her time. The hand down the front of her now damp panties began to move again, Fingers slowly stroking along that slit. She heard the footsteps receding, back down the stairs. Had he seen her dart up the stairs? The shirt would not have offered any modesty going up the stairs. Was he still hard?
She closed her eyes and imagined that he was, imagined him stroking his dick, up and down while she scrubbed the carpet on hands and knees her fingers found her young clit. She imagined him panting, huffing. How big was it? Six inches? Seven? A monstrous nine? Her fingers moved faster over her damp lips. What was it like? Long and skinny? Thick and veined?
Her other hand went up under her shirt to massage her left breast, thumbing the painfully firm nipple. The head was fat, she could see it, his fist sliding over it as he stroked. Up and down, up and down. Her fingers flicked quickly side to side over her clit. Then he stepped from behind the kitchen doorway and came closer, behind her and then...
Gosalyn Mallard experienced her second climax of the hour. She slumped down to the floor. Panting, sweating, and shivering. This time she had the foresight to stifle her beak with a towel. It seemed to have worked. Her father wouldn't come knocking, unless he was standing by the door, listening. She banished the thought from her head. No, no, twice was enough. Good thing she was in the bathroom. The idea of a cold shower suddenly seemed pretty good to her. That was the day, the day she knew she wanted him, and had always wanted him.
***
Honker sat there on the rooftop. Gosalyn's story had shocked, appalled and aroused him, in that order. Now it all made sense, His first thought was that Gosalyn had been using him as a substitute but he knew better; Gosalyn was using him as a test Dummy. Not that he ever complained. The news once it truly sank in. made his heart fall. He could not compete with her father.
The look must have shown on his face because her next words were.
"It's not like that Honk." she started “I’m not in love with my dad or anything. I, I just want him to be the first okay?" she gave her mopey friend a nudge, "I mean I have a few sick dreams about you too you know."
That made him feel a little better, especially since in the back of his mind the nagging little voice had finally gone silent... Everything she had said, she had done, been doing added up. In some weird way but it made sense and he had no reason to think she was lying to him. The Rules made perfect sense now, as did a few other things. Well enough that they could continue their patrol; they'd stopped to chat near Gizmo's Gadget Garage, a decent electronics parts store and one of the dead zones. He needed to think and work off that erection in his pants. The brisk night air was always good for that, not to mention the constant fear of falling off a rooftop.
Did Gosalyn really have to go into such detail over the masturbation? He wondered or was that just more of her teasing. He wasn't sad either way. She promised she would tell him more, when they were off patrol and away from prying parental surveillance.
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Gosalyn's Gambit