Mom is holding a cast iron fry pan
From Torg Adventure
You see your mother facing off with your father. She's holding a large cast iron fry pan; he's got his fists balled up.
"YOU'RE NEVER TOUCHING THEM AGAIN!" she shouts. "AND DON'T GIVE ME THAT LINE ABOUT FUTURE GENERATIONS! YOU'RE STERILE, YOU ASSHOLE! THIS IS ABOUT YOU AND YOUR TINY DICK!" You've never seen her this mad before. You hope she's less angry when she finds out about you and the girls.
"You can't tell me what to do," Dad says, his face calm in spite of his anger. "I'm the man of the house!" He always kept his voice low, especially when he was mad. That had always been more frightening.
"NOT ANY MORE! {firstname} IS MORE MAN THAN YOU ARE! HE'S GIVING ME A BABY! THAT'S MORE THAN YOU CAN DO! HE'S THE MAN OF THE HOUSE NOW!" Uh-oh! Now she's done it.
"WHY THAT LITTLE TRAITOR!" he yells as he charges your mom, fists swinging and his face twisted in seething anger, teeth bared.
Your mom ducks his attack and then straightens as she swings the fry pan with both hands and all the force her smaller body can generate. She connects with the side of his head and you hear a loud thud. Dad falls to the floor. Your mother stands over him, panting hard to catch her breath, waving the fry pan like a baseball bat next to her head in case tries to hurt her again. Your father doesn't move.
You rush over and check his pulse on his neck. It's weak, he exhales, and then his pulse is gone. He's dead. You stand up and take your mother in your arms. "He's dead," you tell her, loud enough for the girls to hear. She drops the fry pan with a loud clang and melts into your arms, sobbing. Her body trembles as she bawls uncontrollably into your shoulder. You murmur in her ear, "It's okay. He made you do it. You were just protecting the girls. There, there. It's over now."
Suddenly, you both are surrounded Tracy and Millie, both crying loudly. The four of you stand, holding each other, crying your eyes out. Your father is dead! He may have gone crazy because of the bombs, but he was still your dad.
After a half hour of tears and closeness, you say, "We need some rest after this ordeal. Let's get you all to bed." You start letting go of the others. Your clump of bodies separates, and Mom is the first to hug you. She quietly says, "You're the man now." Then she kisses you full on the lips and then she deepens the kiss by slipping her tongue in your mouth. You hear a small gasp from each of the girls. You kiss her for a good minute, then your mother breaks the kiss and walks slowly toward her bed area.
Tracy is next. She hugs you and whispers in your ear, "You told her, didn't you. Thank you for protecting us. If you and Mom are making babies, I guess it's okay for us too." Then she too kisses you, her tongue playing briefly with yours before she pulls away and walks to her bed.
Millie starts with the kiss, pulling your head to her lips and squeezing your butt at the same time. Your eyes go wide in surprise. You make out enthusiastically for a few minutes before she breaks the kiss to say, "I forgive you for coercing me. You were amazing, and it felt soooo good." Then she astonishes you again by squeezing your bulging pants. "Let's do it again."
As much as you would love to have sex with your youngest sister right this second, especially with her willing, there's a dead body to take care of. "I'm sorry, Millie. Go sleep. I have to take care of his body."
She looks at you with a mischievous smirk. "I want you to take care of my body, silly. His can wait." She pulls on your hand and starts walking toward your bed rather than hers.
Do you follow her? Or deal with the body?
