Hope

Maybe the greatest gift given to us as human beings is to not understand the whole world around us. With just a bit of blissful ignorance, we can keep on waking up each day, thinking it will be better than the last. I try so hard to hold onto that last bit of naivety. I owe it to her.

 

One thing I don't think anyone can ever explain is how she came to me. Twelve years ago something happened that neither I nor anyone else in Ponyville could have ever expected. I guess I should hardly be surprised, looking back, when two lovers do what we did, a child shouldn't be unexpected. But she was a pony after all. It all didn't seem possible.

 

I had been living with Lyra for as long as I could remember. Ever since coming to this strange world of pastel ponies, she had a childish obsession with me. I still can picture her wide eyed fascination with my somewhat lanky body, as she trotted over and greeted me. Most ponies gave me a wide berth as the only human in the village, but Lyra was always so close. She loved to just be near me, to watch me eat, or just smell my strange scent.

 

Maybe it was wrong to finally sleep with her. I just didn't know if I would ever be able to return to my old life again. And here was Lyra, fawning over me and dropping not so subtle hints. I would be lying through my teeth if I said I didn't want her. There was a strange eroticism to her features, and soon every meeting and errant touch would drive me into a lust, watching her curved flank and flowing tail as she would trot coyly around the house. I surprised her while making dinner one evening, and she melted into my arms.

 

It was truly indescribable, making love to a pony. We were together every chance we could get.  Her heat cycle made things even more interesting, as she practically assaulted me whenever she could. Nothing ever felt so good, as being so desired and being so able to please my mare.

 

It was only a few weeks before we became concerned. Lyra was feeling sick in the morning, and had missed her last heat. I really don't know what either of us expected was going to happen. You could have heard a pin drop when Nurse Redheart told us she was pregnant. A million things flashed by my eyes at the news. That this was impossible. That we weren't anywhere near ready to have a kid. That it might be born deformed or some sort of monster.

 

I know one thing, as I look back. I never would change a single thing. Nothing would ever make me give up my precious Hope.

 

 

Completely out of place in the small hospital, a human paced nervously outside a maternity ward. A muted silence hung in the hall, broken occasionally by the squeak of sneakers on the polished floor. Clammy hands wrung each other as he waited for any news from the nurse.

 

Suddenly two nurses rushed by, hooves clopping loudly as they pushed inside. For a brief moment, the man hears a pony moaning slightly in pain. He reaches out towards the door, held in place by a promise. They didn't know what to expect. No magic could tell them if the child would be human or not.

 

He thought that over a moment. Not human. That wasn't the right word. As long as she was born healthy it didn't matter.

 

Only a few minutes later, the kind face of Nurse Redheart poked out from the swinging door. The human was comforted by her soft smile. "Is...is she okay?"

 

The nurse nodded, pushing the door open. "Why don't you see for yourself, dad?"

 

Tentatively entering the brightly lit maternity room, he can see his minty colored lover framed by the white curtains of the hospital bed. Even though her face is glowing, he can tell she's exhausted. Her mane is all frizzed out, her fur matted slightly with sweat. He smiles at her. She's still gorgeous.

 

Cradling a white blanketed form, Lyra beckons him over. Wordlessly, he reaches for the small bundle, grasping it gently. She was big for a pony child. Parting the blanket slightly, a wave of surprise and shock washes over him. Big brown eyes stare up at him, as a completely human face greets him from the cozy blanket. She has a sprout of mint colored hair, in homage to her mother. Looking at Lyra for some explanation, she simply looks warmly back at him. 'It was just simply impossible', he thought. And yet here she was, his human daughter. Born from a pony he loved.

 

Cradling her tiny body to him, the human felt a single manly tear well up. If this was some kind of dream, he wished it would never end.

 

As he held her, however, a creeping twinge of fear ran up his spine. There was definitely something wrong with her legs. He could feel incorrect bends and joints under the blanket. Looking around, he realized only now the general looks of unease on the faces of nurses and doctors. He reached up with a shaky hand, pulling the blanket aside, eyes wide as he saw the rest of his child.

 

She did in fact have a human head. Tiny human hands and perfectly formed fingers reached out at the new world in front of her. She even had a tiny human outie bellybutton. But below that, everything changed. Smooth, peach skin gave way to a fine coat of soft fur, matching Lyra's own color. Her legs were like a foal's; powerfully muscled and reverse jointed, ending in soft hooves. He could see the tuft of a tail behind her.

 

He looked up, finding the maternity ponies averting their gaze. Only Nurse Redheart offered him a comforting smile. There were murmurs of disapproval or shock throughout the ward. Looking over to Lyra, he could only think of one thing to say.

 

"She's perfect."

 

 

The next few years were a blur for our small family. I really wish I could say it passed by like some sort of beautiful dream. But I guess every family has its growing pains. Right?

 

I couldn’t be any more pleased with Hope. Lyra and I were so worried she would have trouble walking or getting around. Two hooves and two hands don’t exactly scream mobility. She crawled alright in a few months, and was more than a handful during diaper changes. She had powerful pony legs and knew how to use them. I just never got the hang of working around that tail. Guess Lyra was just better at such things.

 

When she took her first steps at ten months old, I think we both finally were able to breathe. She was positively normal in every way a half pony-half human could be. She awkwardly made her way around our small house on minty green legs, eyes wide with fascination at her unexpected vantage point. I called Lyra over, seeing the tears well up in her eyes as we watched. I playfully scritched Lyra’s back between her shoulders, choking back my own pride at our daughter.

 

As Hope tottered around the room as only a toddler could do, for the first time in a long time I felt things might end up okay. In her bemused smile anyone would forget their worries.

 

Lyra was becoming more and more distant though. Every minute I spent getting closer to Hope, I could feel her drifting away. Sometimes I would come home from work, and find her already breaking out the wine, sitting in a sullen mood in a dark kitchen, while Hope played cheerfully nearby. I really tried to deal with it. I tried to keep up the happy family charade. If only for Hope’s sake. But it soon was apparent something was going to change forever for us.

 

 

 

We went to the Summer Sun Festival shortly after. It would be Hope’s first real time out in public. Up until then it had really been only family and close friends visiting. They, of course, absolutely loved her. Lyra’s family was particularly supportive. I get the feeling they had long since thought their slightly odd minded daughter would never find a special somepony. They were so pleased she had found love, they didn’t even seem to mind I was a special some-human. Besides the occasional carefully placed comment about marriage, they were really awesome. They positively adored Hope. She would light up when she saw them every time, in only that special way grandparents that spoil their granddaughter can cause.

 

Lyra seemed especially apprehensive when we set out that night. She seemed so intent on dressing Hope in as many clothes as she could. Her magic levitated nearly an entire wardrobe of clothes towards me. It was obvious the little girl didn’t want anything to do with it. She was content most of the time running around with nothing at all. After all, nearly everyone she saw was naked anyways, with me being the only exception. I hardly even knew why Lyra bothered getting baby clothes at all. They were highly unusual for pony children and cost a fortune.

 

After some fussing and some strong placed satyr kicks, I told Lyra to just settle for the white sun dress, and be thankfully we were able to get anything at all on her.

 

“Fine. You just let YOUR daughter parade around half naked in front of everypony.” Lyra said in a huff, letting the remaining clothes drop to the ground.

 

“But you’re naked all the time!”

 

Blushing, the mint pony furrowed her brow slightly at me. “Th…that’s different!”

 

“Oh c’mon, she’s adorable. Looks at how happy she is to be going to the festival.” I bounced her playfully on my knee. Hope giggled as she looked up at me.

 

“Just grab her stuff and lets go.” Lyra said as she stormed out.

 

I gathered up a small diaper bag that had since taken up a new life for hauling her playthings and snacks. She hadn’t needed a diaper for over a month now. She was getting to be such a big girl.

 

Looking into her hazel eyes I felt my tension leave me. I couldn’t help but smile. “C’mon kiddo. Let’s go try to cheer up mom.”

 

 

 

There was a good crowd for this year’s festival. The weather was really perfect. Even though Celestia was in another town for the festival, you could still tell how excited all the ponies in town got around this time of year. I really couldn’t blame them. It was kind of like our Fourth of July, where they all celebrated the light coming back after the defeat of Nightmare Moon. It always brought back fond memories of the holiday back on earth. There were always lots of good food, cold cider, games, and of course, fireworks.

 

I wave to Rainbow Dash and a few of her friends. We talked with Bon Bon for a while, all the while Hope clinging to my leg in the large crowd. I doubt she had ever seen so many ponies before.

 

Honestly it took a while to dawn on me. Lyra was obviously upset. She was barely talking, and hung her head as we picked out a place to lay our blanket. Reaching out, I stroked her silky mane, before scratching her ears gently. “What’s wrong?”

 

She flopped down on the blanket, legs splayed out awkwardly. She gave me a sad look. “They’re all staring at us.”

 

I sat down next to her, scratching down her back and to her flanks. I gave her a wide smile. “You never seemed to mind before. Suddenly become self-conscious?”

 

Lyra just glared at me. “You know what I mean! They’re staring at…her.”

 

Hope was playing nearby in the grass. She had found a blooming dandelion. Carefully she cupped it, trying not to lose the delicate seeds to an errant gust of wind.

 

“You never cared about what they thought of us. Why do you care about what they think of our daughter?”

 

I could feel her sigh deeply as I rest my hand on her mint colored coat. “I just never wanted anything like this. All the time I spent looking for something different; something like you.” She looked up at me, and I could see the sadness in her eyes. “I know I was just being selfish. Even if I’m happy, she’s never going to fit in. You can already see how everypony looks at her. Can’t you hear them talking behind our backs!”

 

“Why do you care what they say or think?”

 

“I…I don’t know. For some reason, I just can’t be happy when I think of her growing up. I was awkward enough as a foal, and I was teased constantly. She’s just going to suffer. And it’s all my fault.”

 

Caressing her neck, I tried to comfort her the only way I knew how. If she needed all my support and attention, I would have given it to her, if it would have been enough. But Hope needed me too. In the waning light of the long summer day, she skipped over to me, bare headed dandelions in her small hands. She lay them delicately on the blanket, as if offering them as a gift. Cradling my daughter tightly against me, I stroked her long, mint colored hair, feeling her burrow deeply into my shoulder.

 

Suddenly, the fireworks started. They were magically enhanced somehow by the ponies, and even I was amazed at some of the combinations they were able to pull off. The entire crowd broke out in “Ohhhs” and “Ahhhs”. Even little Hope seemed completely caught in their spell. The little satyr that could barely keep her attention trained for a few minutes was suddenly gazing in wonder at the brightly colored explosions for over twenty minutes.

 

The one thing I couldn’t see were the tears streaming down Lyra’s face. They caught the reflections of the lights as they burst. She choked back her sobs and let me stroke her, our daughter cradled against both our sides.

 

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The next year, we went back to the same hill. Hope wore a sun dress again. We talked to many of the same ponies.

 

No one asked me why Lyra wasn’t with us.

 

She just couldn’t take it anymore. A few months after the Festival last year, she told me she was moving back home. There was nothing I could do. The times she took Hope into town, she would come back home nearly in tears, locking herself in the bathroom. She was convinced that everypony hated Hope. There was absolutely no reasoning with her.

 

Hope has grown so much this last year. She walks confidently now, her pony legs carrying her with a strange speed for her form. I let her hair grow out, and bound it in two poofy pigtails. She really seems to like it that way.

 

She gathered me a proper bouquet this year of wildflowers, whistling as she skipped around picking them. She tied them with a childish knot with a bit of string from our old blanket, and handed them to me. “I picked you some flowers, daddy!” She beamed at me, presenting her gift.

 

I smiled a big goofy grin at her, grabbing her up in my arms, tickling her as she shrieked in glee. Cradling her to my body, I hugged her hard, delighting in her squirms as she laughed. Bursts of light quieted us both as she settled back against me, watching the fireworks in wonderment. I sat down, cradling her in my lap. I stroked her hear gently as we watched.

 

Somehow I choked back my tears until she was turned away from me. I held them back to keep her from getting upset. Sure, I may have felt sad for a moment there. But that awful feeling deep in my gut faded quick. Soon I was just holding Hope tight against me as silent tears welled down my face.

 

I was just so godamned happy.

 

 

 

Lyra was right about one thing. School was rough on her. Seeing her leave that first day, walking away down the path to the single room schoolhouse, she was so happy. I had already explained she would get to meet all kinds of new friends at school. Ponies her own age. After such a sheltered childhood, I really could appreciate how big of a step that was. Hope was so brave about it, too. She just kept telling me the night before about what she was going to do with her new friends.

 

Seeing her come home upset and near tears was so hard. I really should have expected it. Not knowing what else to do, I just held her for a while, smoothing her wild hair down, cradling her head against my shoulder until it was damp.

 

“It’s not fair, daddy.”

 

“Why’s that, my little faun?” I tilted her little head towards mine.

 

She wiped a human arm across her nose, clearing her dribbling nose. “No one picked me at recess for hoofball. They said I just had two legs and would be way too slow!”

 

“You’re plenty fast for me!”

 

Hope gave me a pouty, incredulous look. “You’re not a pony, daddy. You’re really slow already!”

 

“Hey, that’s going to hurt my feelings.”

 

“I’m sorry, daddy.” She cradled her head against my shoulder again, welcoming my strong arm holding her tight. “I didn’t mean to.”

 

We sat like that for a little while, just comforting each other. We had done this many times since Lyra left. At least I still had her. And she would always have me, of course.

 

“Dad?” She whispered into my white cotton shirt. “Why am I so different?”

 

I bit my lip. She was only six, but the truth was laid out pretty simply even for a child. I rustled her hair lightly. “Well kiddo, you know your mom was a pony, right?”

 

“Yah.”

 

“Well, I’m a human. There’s not many like me around, I guess. So you might never see anyone else that’s just like you, Hope.”

 

She grasped my shirt tighter with her little hands. I could feel her furry legs latch onto me even harder. A whole new wave of satyr tears wet fell wet against my chest.

 

“I wish I was just a regular pony. Just like every other pony…”

 

That really cut deep. It really felt like somehow, I had hurt her at that very moment. Like all of this was my fault. “Hope. You should never say those things. You’re a very special little girl. It’s not a bad thing to be different. There’s all kinds of things you can do that no other pony could ever do. Now come here.” I pushed my knee up, pushing her closer to my face. She looked into my eyes with a tear streaked face, her big hazel eyes wet with sadness. I hugged her tight.

 

 

 

Unfortunately, my words had an unexpected backlash.

 

My daughter came back the very next day with a ripped dress, scrapes all over her, and a conspicuous hoof mark on her face. She had a large, mischievous grin as she walked in the front door, looking like the cat that ate the canary. Hope confidently put her bag down, whistling a little tune as she washed up.

 

Hope found she was good at something after all. With her strong pony legs and long, agile arms, she discovered that any pony that made fun of her was easy game in a fight.

 

Cheerilee, her teacher, was soon calling me on a weekly basis about some sort of altercation Hope got involved in. I know she went easy on me because I was basically a single parent. But I was really ashamed of myself. There was absolutely no one else to blame. Hope had only visited her mother a few times in the last year, and if anything she always came back home hating herself more than when she left. I really wish Lyra didn’t have to be so hard on her. It wasn’t Hope’s fault things were like this.

 

A half pony-half human from a broken home. Anyone would be expected to be a little dysfunctional.

 

I really did try. Every free moment I got I would spend time with Hope, meet with Cheerilee, try to meet with Twilight and find some answer somewhere about what to do. Hope just could not be controlled at school. Any time she was separated from me, she became listless and hostile, lashing out at other ponies. Back on earth maybe she could be medicated, but here…

 

I walked home with her once when she was ten. We had just been to the library, but had to leave when Hope yelled at Twilight and knocked over a shelf. She was getting stronger every day.

 

“Hope, why’d you do that to Aunt Twilight? I thought you liked her?”

 

She crossed her arms defiantly, her hair hanging in long strings, covering her face. “She thinks there’s something wrong with me too. She’s just like everyone at school. They all hate me ‘cause I’m different. Even Cheerilee makes me sit in the back every day now.”

 

“We went over this Hope. It’s because you were naughty. Anypony would get the same treatment.” I tried to reach out for her, tried to comfort her. She never shies away from my touch. But she still felt cold. She didn’t really want to listen to me.

 

“Momma says no pony will ever like me. She said I’m always going to be different, so everypony will always treat me like a stranger…”

 

God, I’m glad it’s raining. She won’t be able to see my tears. I pull her to me, hearing her gasp a little as I pull her close, cradling her from the rain, holding her head against my chest. “I’m different too, Hope. And all the ponies treat me fine. You just have to have an open mind. I know not everyone will like me. But some ponies aren’t friends with each other either. Only a few ponies won’t be my friend because I’m a human. And only a few ponies will ever not like you because you’re a satyr.”

 

She looked up at me with those damned hazel eyes. I’m instantly locked in her gaze. “Daddy…if we’re both different why don’t we just live together. We can be each other’s friend.” She may be crying too. Damn rain…

 

 

 

“Hope, come back here!”

 

Easier said than done.

 

It turns out catching a slightly hyperactive thirteen year old with the legs of a horse was slightly difficult. I already knew that, of course. I was just hoping she didn’t.

 

The only times I could ever corner her to discipline the little devil seemed like times she allowed me to. She would streak through the house, powerful legs springing over my clumsy attempts to catch her. Hope would giggle like a madman when she heard my annoyed grunt at another near miss.

 

It didn’t help that she stopped wearing clothes nearly altogether. She would wear my old collared shirts, but not much else. I don’t think she knew she was way past the point where a pantless biped should feel shame in their nudity. I had long since given up trying to force her though. Was just not going to happen.

 

I crested the stairs only to be greeted by her mint colored bum. Little shit was mooning me. She laughed, leaping sideways into her room. Gasping for air, I finally rested against her doorframe. She looked up at me with coy little eyes, her shirt only buttoned halfway up. Her long legs were splayed open widely. I sighed, looking at the ground. “I thought you were going to work on wearing some pants around here…”

 

She gave me a great big shit-eating grin. “Why, daddy. Are you embarrassed?”  She ran a hand down a thigh, but thankfully closed up.

 

“No…it’s just a lady should be a little more dignified.”

 

Hope blew a strand of hair out of her face. “Well you’re no fun. Alright, alright, I’m going to finish reading. I would have done it anyways. You didn’t have to get on my case about it.”

 

“Just like you were going to finish that writing assignment?”

 

“Hmph, that’s different. You know I’m no good at writing.”

 

“No excuse.” I turned to walk out of the room. “Maybe I’ll bring you up some of that pie later, okay?”

 

“Okay, daddy.”

 

She sure could eat, that was for sure. Hope had grown into a fine specimen of satyr-hood. I, of course, say that based off absolutely no scientific knowledge. Just the overwhelming pride of a father.

 

I did have to pull her out of school. When she hit twelve her hormones were in full swing, and even the colts at school in the upper grades weren’t safe from her. She had struck Cheerilee once, hard enough to draw blood. There weren’t many options left. It was almost getting to the point that Hope could only go out in public with me. Left alone, there was just too much of a chance something might happen. And I really couldn’t risk it.

 

It’s okay though. I still have some of my old textbooks. I may not be a genius, but I’m a good enough teacher. And Hope will listen to just about anything I have to say. Hopefully when she matures a bit, she’ll be able to get over her dislike of other ponies. I’ll just have to try harder to raise her right.

 

We’re reading one of my old books now, A Scanner Darkly. She really likes Sci-Fi. I never could get her to read many pony books. To be fair though, they were generally horrible. The endings were always happy ones, and the plot usually played out predictable and sickly sweet.

 

Carefully, I cut her pie. It was key lime, one of her favorites. Walking upstairs quietly, I found her laying stomach down, deep into her book. Knocking, I walked over and placed the pie next to her.

 

“Mind if I sit and read with you a bit?”

 

“Mmm, nope.” She said absently, stabbing at the pie while she tried to keep reading. I tried to stroke some of the tangles from her hair. She really should brush it more often. As I worked, I could have sworn she was pushing her rump closer against me. In the warm, summer night, the heat from her fur was unmistakable.

 

“Hope?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

 

 

It happened later that week. The temperature had been almost unbearable lately. I had the whole house opened up, and a cool breeze had finally promised a good night of sleep. I woke in the dead of the night, feeling only the way you can feel when you were having the best night’s sleep of your life and lost it forever. For a moment I just lay there, annoyed, with nothing but the slight breeze pushing away the still, humid air. The normal sounds of night from outside were broken by a slight, subdued creaking. It could have been someone walking across our old hardwood floor. Jolted into alertness, I went down the hallway, flinging open Hope’s door.

 

It was different than usual. I had walked in before in the summer, only to be embarrassed by a nude satyr sprawled out on the sheets, snoring like a manticore. But now she was bundled up in the covers, nearly completely concealed. Her hair was matted with sweat. I could hear her moan slightly, her whole body shuddering and doubling up. Is my faun okay? Reaching out, I grasped her sheet. “Hope, are you…”

 

She gasped suddenly, pulling away, leaving me with a sodden white sheet in my hands. Her hand was buried between her mint thighs, soaked and glistening in the moonlight. Her breasts were laid bare in the pale light, perfect nipples erect. She looked at me with her hazel eyes, only now they were clouded and half lidded in pleasure. Only when I lifted the sheet could I smell the scent of her sex, a fresh and minty tinge of her mother, mixed with a muskier odor that was positively human.

 

Her chest rose and fell quickly in her arousal. I realized I was staring. Blushing, I tossed the sheet back to her, letting her loosely cover herself. “Hope…it’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with…”

 

“Daddy…” She croaked out. It almost sounded like she was suffering. “I can’t sleep. It’s almost like...like I'm on fire.”

 

I placed the back of my hand on her forehead. Her temperature was fine.

 

“No.” She turned a deeper shade of red, if it were possible. “I mean, down there. It just won’t stop itching. It’s driving me crazy.”

 

“Oh.” I said to her. But really in my mind, I was cursing silently. I knew exactly what was wrong. “Didn’t your mother ever um, talk to you about this stuff?”

 

She looked into my eyes, almost pleading. “Are you kidding?! Talk to mom about my body?”

 

“Er, I see your point…”

 

I think she’s started rubbing herself under the covers again. Her thighs are grinding again slightly. She was crying. “Daddy…what do I do?”

 

Brain shouting again, making me hate myself for some of the things I'm thinking. There needs to be some option. It’s too late at night, though. I can’t go and get anyone. Deep breath. Alright. I can handle this.

 

She let out this kind of half moan-sigh. Shit. This is not going to be easy.

 

“Hope, okay, you know how you’re part pony? Well, we never really knew what was going to happen , but it looks like you got their, um, urges.”

 

She’s practically panting now. “Urges? What the hell does that mean?!”

 

“I mean you’re going into heat.”

 

“Like an animal?!” she thrashed a bit against the bed frame, kicking a hind leg hard against the wall, leaving a hoof shaped impression. “Fucking ponies!”

 

I reached out to comfort her. Holding her shoulder with my strong hand, I stroked her back. Her smooth skin was damp with sweat. “It’s not so bad. It’s going to be over in a few days. And trust me, you probly would prefer it to the human alternative.”

 

She still has the sheet on her lower body, but it's long since fallen from her chest. Hope is rubbing herself like crazy now, nearly oblivious of her blushing father. Christ, was this how all teenager ponies were like? Maybe that’s why you hardly ever see any. I pictured pony parents locking horny teenagers up during their worst hormone cycles. Hope's incessant fidgeting brought me back to reality.

 

Gasping, she looks over at you. “It won’t go away!”

 

It's my turn to blush a bit, trying to look away, scratching the back of my head. “Just um, you know, finish.” She looks at me with an incredulous look. Okay, maybe one the down sides of home schooling. “Just...keep doing what feels good and you’ll eventually climax. That should help a lot.”

 

She gives me a frustrated look. “I’ve been…ahh…doing that for over an hour.”

 

“Okay, um, picture a man in a little boat…”

 

“What the hell are you talking about?!” She has turned on her stomach now, trying to rub herself on the mattress.

 

Sighing, I get up. This is probably the single time in my lifetime I ever wished Hope was a boy. “Scooch over here.” She complied immediately, and I finally felt her hot furry thighs against me. Pulling her sheet off, I knelt on the floor. I told myself, ‘Take it easy, this is no different than when you used to give her a bath. Quick little health lesson and then…’

 

But this was no simple lesson. The soaked sheet gave way to reveal the fully developed thighs of a pony mare, drenched in her minty smelling juices. She was so wet you could see her glisten in the moonlight. I gently pulled her thighs apart. Hope looked down at me with pleading eyes.

 

I had seen my daughter naked plenty of times. I bathed her, dressed her, and took care of her injuries. But my god, in that moonlight, with the thoughts of Lyra flowing freshly back into my mind, I couldn't see much of my daughter in her anymore. Her sex had a different characteristic to it that I hadn't seen in many years. With her looking at me, with that disheveled hair, distinctively human breasts, so perfect and inviting, coupled with her mother's feminine charms...I was only human, after all.

 

“Give me your hand.” I whispered. Her dainty fingers cupped my palm, slick with her essence. I guided her down to her marehood. God was it hot. Like mother, like daughter. Shaking memories from my mind, I carefully guided her index finger to her opening, pushing in just enough so I could curve it with my own finger, showing her where to massage her velvety walls. She was so soft and warm. How long had it been? Thirteen years?

 

Hope moaned, and I felt her wink against our seeking fingers. Her powerful thighs flexed and tried to shut closed, but I held them apart, taking the chance to run my other finger along her exposed clit, rubbing it hard with my thumb. The sudden attention caused her to arch her back, pushing her snatch hard into my hands. Her finger worked away wildly, lubricated by sudden gushes of her precum, dowsing our hands and running down her thighs in rivulets. She was crying now, her other hand massaging her perfect breasts.

 

She finished fast, worked up the way she was. She bucked her hips against me, lips winking hard against my finger, pushing us out of her love canal. I kept right on rubbing her clit as she thrust against my hand. She wrapped her warm thighs around my hand, gasping as she rode out her first orgasm. Changing to a series of sighs, she settled down on the bed again, moving her furry legs apart to feel the cool breeze upon her.

 

I look down at myself. I’m covered in satyr cum, sporting an erection hard enough to hammer nails. Thank god I’m still hidden by the bed. I slide over towards the door, standing up so I can hide the almost painful stiffie behind the door frame. “Daddy…” Hope calls over, her voice light and airy. “Thanks. I think I got it now.” She is running a hand over herself, no doubt feeling the tingling sensation that only a powerful orgasm can bring. Sticky fingers push her hair out of her face, pulling it behind her ears. "Dad. You...don't have to go back to bed if you don't want to. You can stay..."

 

Painful erection pressed against the plaster wall just outside her door, I felt a moment of weakness. But just a moment. I deride myself, looking down at the floor. I can't keep looking at her body without feeling a bit ashamed. It's just her hormones talking. Hope is a good girl. And I'm still her father.

 

"Go back to bed, my little faun. I think you'll feel a lot better now." I say, closing the door. I can still feel her hazel eyes looked on my through the pine panels.

 

It's going to be rough falling asleep again.