Table of Contents

Part 1: Penny the Virgin

Part 2: Laura the Married Woman

Part 3: Chelsea the Lesbian

Part 4: Violet the Porn Star

Part 5: Anna the Cultist

Part 6: Kat the CEO

Harry Hammer shifted uncomfortably in the leather chair across from his father's imposing mahogany desk, the summons to George's office carrying the same weight it had since Harry was a child.

At forty-three, Harry was the Hammer Breeding Agency's crown jewel, their most valuable asset—a man whose unique biological gifts had given countless wealthy families children. But something in his father's expression today suggested this wasn't their usual quarterly performance review.

"Eight successful impregnations this quarter alone," George Hammer said, his silver hair perfectly coiffed as he flipped through a leather-bound ledger. "The Al-Saud princess, both Vanderholt wives, that tech billionaire's tenth wife..." He closed the ledger with a snap. "Impressive as always, son."

"Thanks, Dad." Harry nodded, feeling the familiar pride in his work. "The new seduction techniques we've been implementing have increased first-attempt success by nearly twenty percent."

George's cold gray eyes fixed on Harry. "And yet, with all this success—all this genetic legacy you're spreading across the globe—I find myself in quite the predicament."

Harry waited, knowing his father's flair for dramatic pauses.

"I have six granddaughters, Harry, and not a single one has produced an heir. The Hammer Breeding Agency faces a crisis of credibility. How can we charge millions for our services when our own family line falters?"

"They're young, Dad. They have time," Harry offered, though he knew it was weak. His daughters ranged from twenty-one to twenty-five—prime reproductive years in the Hammer philosophy.

"Time?" George turned sharply. "Kat is more interested in corporate takeovers than motherhood. Chelsea seems determined to challenge every traditional value we stand for. I don’t even know what to say about her twin sister, Violet, except perhaps that she cracked the top ten in ‘stepsister porn’ searches on HotVids last week."

"Okay Dad, you’ve made your point—" Harry interrupted. But George wasn’t finished.

"Anna has joined that ridiculous celibate cult. Laura's husband can't get it up." He ticked each failure off on his fingers. "Penny, meanwhile, hasn’t bothered with sex at all, let alone relationships. A virgin!"

Harry sighed. "They have their own lives, their own choices."

"Choices!" George slammed his palm on the desk. "The Hammer lineage doesn't continue itself through choices. It continues through duty." He took a deep breath, recomposing himself. "Which brings me to why you're here today."

George returned to his seat, opening a different folder and sliding it across the polished wood. Harry hesitated, then pulled it closer, flipping it open. Inside were detailed fertility charts, ovulation cycles, and psychological profiles. He recognized the names immediately.

"What is this?" Harry asked, though a sickening realization was already forming in his gut.

"Your next six assignments," George replied, his tone businesslike. "We need children from these six women. Children with the Hammer gift. We need the best breeder in the business. We need you — to impregnate your daughters."

Harry's mouth went dry. "This is sick, Dad. These are my own flesh and blood."

"That’s just it. Think about it, Harry," George countered smoothly. "Your hyper-mobile sperm, its exceptional fertility, not to mention distance and volume that outmatches men half your age—"

"That’s enough, Dad—" Harry winced at his father’s clinical recitation of his impressive cum statistics, but George was on a roll.

"—a gift that will only last so long, by the way. All of this, combined with the genetically optimized eggs of women already carrying the recessive Hammer traits. It's the perfect breeding program."

Harry stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the hardwood floor. "I won't do it. I've impregnated royalty, celebrities, the wives of the most powerful men in the world. But this—" he gestured to the folder, "—this crosses every line."

"Look, I’ve arranged your standard fee—five million per successful impregnation. Everything will be properly documented as professional services rendered. And of course, your continued position in my will depends on your cooperation."

The threat hung in the air between them, clear and unmistakable.

Harry flipped through the file again, his eyes catching details about his daughters—women he'd raised but grown increasingly distant from as his work consumed him. Images accompanied each profile: Kat in her power suit, Chelsea and Violet with their fiery red hair, Anna in her modest dress, Laura's athletic build, and Penny, the youngest at 21...sweet, introverted Penny with her soft curls and shy smile.

To his horror, the forbidden nature of the whole damned enterprise triggered something primal in him, something he'd spent decades harnessing for professional purposes. His cock twitched against his tailored pants as he imagined Penny's virgin flesh yielding to him, her untouched womb welcoming his potent seed.

"Jesus," he muttered, disgusted with himself.

"I'll take that as your acceptance," George said, correctly interpreting Harry's conflicted expression. "You'll start with Penny. She's ovulating in three days. Her psychological profile suggests she'll be the easiest to... persuade. Her inexperience makes her vulnerable to your particular talents."

Harry closed the folder, his decision made despite every ethical alarm blaring in his mind. "Penny first," he confirmed, his voice hollow.

"Excellent." George slid another, thinner file across the desk. "She's at her apartment tonight, alone with those ridiculous cats of hers. I suggest you pay her a visit. Father-daughter bonding, so to speak."

The words sent another unwelcome pulse of arousal through Harry. He tucked the file under his arm, nodding curtly to his father before turning to leave.

"And Harry," George’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone. "Do try to enjoy yourself."

Harry didn't respond, closing the door behind him with a soft click. 

+++

Penny Hammer curled into her oversized plush armchair, the most lived-in spot in her small, cozy apartment, a novel spread open across her lap, her favorite tabby cat purring beside her.

She'd just reached a particularly steamy scene in her historical romance—the kind of passage that always made her cheeks flush and her thighs press together unconsciously—when three sharp knocks at her door startled her. She wasn't expecting anyone, especially not at eight on a Friday evening.

With a reluctant sigh, she carefully marked her page and displaced the grumbling cat. Padding to the door in her fuzzy socks, oversized sweater, and comfortable leggings, she peered through the peephole and felt a jolt of surprise.

"Dad?" she questioned, opening the door to find Harry Hammer standing in her hallway, looking uncharacteristically casual in dark jeans and a button-down shirt rather than his usual tailored suit.

"Hello, sweetheart," Harry smiled, his eyes taking in his youngest daughter's appearance with new awareness. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by. It's been too long."

Penny blinked, surprised by the unexpected visit. "Um, sure. Come in." She stepped aside, suddenly self-conscious about her modest apartment with its overflowing bookshelves and cat toys scattered across the floor. "Sorry about the mess. I wasn't expecting company."

"It's charming," Harry assured her, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. His eyes caught the novel lying open on her chair. "What are you reading?"

Penny hurried to snatch up the book, embarrassed by the explicit scene she’d been engrossed in. "Just some historical fiction."

"Huh, looks more like historical romance to me," Harry commented with a knowing smile, making Penny's cheeks flush pink.

"It's... research," Penny mumbled unconvincingly, tucking the book onto a shelf. "Do you want some tea or something?"

Harry declined, settling onto her small sofa with the easy confidence of a man accustomed to taking up space. "I'd rather catch up. Tell me about your life, Penny. It's been what, six months since we really talked?"

Penny perched awkwardly on the edge of her armchair, tucking her feet underneath her. "Not much to tell. Still working at the bookstore, still taking my literature courses. Still just me and the cats." She gestured to where her tabby had been joined by a sleek black cat watching Harry suspiciously from atop a bookcase.

"No boyfriend? Girlfriend?" Harry asked, his tone casual but his eyes intent.

Penny shifted uncomfortably. "You know that's not really my thing, Dad."

"Not your thing, or something you haven't explored yet?" Harry leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

"Dad," Penny protested weakly, her discomfort growing. "What's with the twenty questions about my love life?"

Harry chuckled, the sound warm and disarming. "Professional habit, I suppose." He gestured to her bookshelf. "But those books tell me you're not completely uninterested in the subject. All those romances with their heaving bosoms and throbbing manhoods..."

"Stop," Penny groaned, covering her face. "This is weird."

"Is it?" Harry asked, his voice dropping lower. "Is it weird to discuss sexuality with someone who understands it professionally? Who could answer questions you might have?"

Penny looked up, suddenly aware of a strange tension in the room. "What kind of questions?"

Harry's smile was gentle, but his eyes held something Penny had never noticed before—a heat, an intensity that made her stomach flutter strangely.

"Pleasure, for instance," he said smoothly. "The books describe it, but have you ever experienced it yourself, Penny? Really experienced it?"

Penny swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. "I don't think this is an appropriate conversation."

"Because I'm your father?" Harry asked, unfazed. "Or because the subject makes you uncomfortable?"

"Both," Penny admitted, even as a part of her mind wondered where this conversation was heading.

Harry rose from the sofa, moving to sit on the arm of her chair, close enough that she could smell his cologne. "What if we set aside our relationship for a moment? What if I'm just a man who specializes in pleasure, and you're just a curious woman who hasn't explored her own desires with another man?"

Penny stared up at him. She wouldn’t say so, but the truth was, she had partaken in some sexual exploration with someone else once — a woman, her older sister, Chelsea. She had helped Penny “get to know her body a little better” when she had turned 19.

But she had yet to experience a man in any remotely sexual sense and still considered herself a virgin. Warmth blossomed in her belly at the thought of a strong pair of hands taking hold of her, a warm, thick cock penetrating her pussy, even as she tried to push away the forbidden idea of intimacy with her father. "I don't understand what's happening right now."

"I think you do," Harry said softly, his hand reaching out to brush a dark curl from her face. "I think you feel it—that curiosity. The same curiosity that makes you read those scenes in your books over and over."

Penny's breathing quickened, her heart pounding against her ribs. "Dad, this is—"

"Shh," he soothed, his fingers trailing down her cheek to her neck. "Don't overthink it. Just feel. Have you ever touched yourself, Penny? Made yourself cum while reading those books?"

The crude word in her father's mouth shocked her, but at the same time she felt a shameful heat building between her legs. "I... sometimes," Penny admitted in a whisper.

"Show me," Harry encouraged, his voice a hypnotic command. "Show me how you touch yourself."

"What? No!" Penny tried to stand, but Harry's presence, so close, so overwhelming, kept her rooted in place.

"You're curious," Harry insisted gently. "I can see it in your eyes. You want to know what it feels like—real pleasure, not just what you can give yourself." His hand moved to her knee, a light, non-threatening touch. "Let me show you. No pressure, no expectations. Just knowledge."

Part of her wanted to throw him out. Instead, she found herself asking in a small voice, "Why are you doing this?"

Harry's answer was smooth, knowing. "Because I see a beautiful young woman who deserves to experience pleasure. Because I'm uniquely qualified to introduce you to it." His hand moved slightly higher on her thigh. "And because I think you want me to."

Penny knew he wasn't entirely wrong. The warmth in her body was spreading—a response, an undeniable need.

"I'll start," Harry offered, unbuttoning his shirt slowly. "No pressure on you."

Penny watched, transfixed, as he revealed his chest. She had never seen her father this way, never thought of him as a sexual being. Yet here he was, undressing in her living room, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Your turn," he encouraged. "Just the sweater, if you want."

Penny's hands moved as if controlled by someone else, gripping the hem of her oversized sweater and pulling it over her head. She sat in her simple cotton bra, arms instinctively covering herself.

"Beautiful," Harry murmured, reaching for her hands and gently pulling them away. "No need to hide."

"This is wrong," Penny whispered, but made no move to stop him as his fingers traced the outline of her bra.

"Does it feel wrong?" Harry asked, his thumb brushing across her nipple through the thin fabric, sending a jolt of pleasure through her body as well as his. "Or does it feel good?"

"It feels... good," Penny admitted, her body responding to his touch with a dampness between her legs she couldn't ignore.

"That's just the beginning," Harry promised, his experienced hands unhooking her bra, revealing her small breasts, nipples hardening in the cool air and under his appreciative gaze.

He guided her hands to cup and squeeze her tits, controlling her movements with an authority that bewildered and thrilled her.

"That's it," he encouraged, his voice assured and comforting. "Let’s start off easy. Show me how you pleasure yourself when you're alone with those naughty books of yours."

Penny’s breathing grew ragged as she followed his instructions, sliding her fingers down her abdomen and against her mound, working her fingers tentatively over the fabric.

"Don't be shy now," Harry coaxed, his professional demeanor slipping as his cock strained painfully against his pants. "Be a good girl and slide your leggings down for me. Show me that pretty body of yours."