Before going home that evening, Lincoln stopped at the grocery store and picked up a few things for the house, and a case of beer for himself. Of course, they were out of adult diapers, so he had to drive across town to the Rite Aid by the railroad tracks, grumbling the whole way.

When he walked through the door twenty minutes later, he found Lyra, Lizy, and Lupa sitting on the couch in front of Judge Judy. Lacy was by the foot of the stairs bouncing a soccer ball off the top of her head, her eyes rolled up to see it and her lips moving silently as she counted. Lincoln slammed the door, and she started, the ball plummeting to the floor and rolling away. "I am so sick of you not listening to me," Lincoln growled, his chest filled with anger. He went over, grabbed the ball, and carried it into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry," she plead and followed, "I was just excited from practice still."

Lori was at the stove while Lola sat at the table, smiling goofily down at her phone. Lincoln suspected she was cheating on him again. One sign was that every time they had sex, she just laid there looking bored, then when he was done she rolled over, grabbed her phone, and started texting someone. Whatever, though; Lana was a better fuck anyway.

At the drawer, he pulled out a knife, and Lacy's eyes widened. "Dad!"

Lincoln sat the ball on the counter, raised the knife, and brought it down in a deadly arc: It sank into it and it deflated.

"Daddy!" Lacy squealed, her voice thick with emotion.

Lori glanced over at him and lifted her brow, but didn't say anything. Gritting his teeth, Lincoln ripped the knife out and stabbed the ball again. Lacy started to cry.

"That's what you get for not listening," he said. He yanked the knife out, snatched the ball up, and threw it at his daughter: It hit her face and plopped limply to the floor. She bowed her head and wept bitterly, eventually turning around and storming off. Lincoln threw the knife into the sink, went to the fridge, and grabbed a beer.

Lola snorted at something on her phone, then her thumbs flew across the keyboard. "That was a little much," Lori said.

Lincoln cracked his beer and went into the living room, ignoring her. Maybe she and the others didn't mind being openly and perpetually disobeyed, but not him: If having Rita and Lynn Loud for parents taught him anything, it was that standing aside and letting your children run the show leads to complete and utter chaos. They were two limp dish rags when it came to discipline, which is why Luan got away with pranking the fuck out of everyone on April Fool's day until Lincoln and his sisters got fed up and ganged up on her one night: They put bars of soap in socks and beat her black and blue. And you know what? Lynn and Rita didn't do shit about that, either. Maybe he was an asshole sometimes, but kids listen to assholes.

He dropped onto the couch next to Lyra and took a drink.

"Hi, Daddy," she said.

"Hey, honey, how're you feeling?"

"Alright," Lyra said, "a little sleepy."

Lincoln nodded. "You'll eventually get used to it again." It would take a week before she had enough of her medication built up in her system that she would be able to function normally. Until then, she would be groggier than usual.

"I know," she said, "it sucks, though."

"Yeah," Lincoln said, "I bet it does." He tipped his can back and guzzled.

Upstairs, Lacy slammed her door and punched it as hard as she could, cracking it. Stupid son of a bitch, that was her only soccer ball! She turned and shot out her arms, tipping over her dresser with a crash. She was filled with rage, her chest heaving and her eyes blazing. FUCK HIM! She lashed out and kicked the dresser: Hot pain snaked up her foot and into her leg. Yelling, she hopped up and down on one foot, tears of pain welling in her eyes. LOOK WHAT HE MADE HER DO! She hobbled to her bed and sat on the edge.

So what she was bouncing her ball on her head? Yeah, Dad told her not to, but it wasn't that big a deal.

She rubbed her leg and fought to regulate her breathing. She was so angry she shook; she didn't get this mad very often, but when she did, holes appeared in the walls and things got broken. Hitting things when she was mad felt soooo good.

If she did that, though, she'd get in even more trouble.

Fuck this!

A knock came at the door, and Lacy ground her teeth. "What?"

It opened, and Leia stuck her head in, the corners of her mouth turned up in an evil grin. Lacy's eyes narrowed. "What do you want?"

Leia held up Lacy's deflated soccer ball. "You forgot something," the little girl said, and began to laugh.

Nuclear rage detonated in Lacy's chest, and before she knew what she was doing, she was up and running toward her sister. Fear filled Leia's eyes, and she turned to run, but Lacy snatched her by one of her pigtails and yanked her back. "You stupid fucking bitch!" Lacy cried; she balled her fist and brought it around, smashing Leia in the side of her face. The little girl's knees buckled and she screamed. Lacy hit her again, and again. Her vision blurred and blood crashed in her temples. Some vague part of her brain screamed at her to stop, but she couldn't; all of the rage she had built up over the years came spilling out, and when Leia fell, Lacy mounted her and punched her in the eye, then the nose, which burst under her fist. Leia thrashed and sobbed. "Fucking little shit sucking bitch! I hate you! I hate you!"

Suddenly, an arm snaked around Lacy's neck and pulled her back. She drove her elbow back, and her captor let out a breathless humph. "Get off of me!" Lacy screamed, and another arm grabbed her.

Leia sat up, her nose gushing blood and her eye already turning black. She shook with the force of her sobs.

Lacy screamed and fought as Lyra and Liena wrestled her to the ground. "Stop!" Liena cried, "please!"

Still weeping, Leia got to her feet and ran from the room, her sobs trailing behind her. She stumbled on the stairs and nearly fell, but caught herself. Her head ached and her nose felt like it was broken.

In the living room, her father twisted around on the couch; his eyes went wide when he saw her. "Leia! Honey, what happened?"

"L-L-Lacy beat me up!" Leia hitched as she came around the side of the couch.

"What?"

Lola and Lori came out of the kitchen, the former's hand going to her mouth and the latter's brow raising.

Lincoln didn't get truly angry very often, but the state of his little girl's face - eye black, nose shattered, cheeks covered in purple knuckle prints - sent him into the stratosphere. While Lola swept her daughter into her arms, Lincoln jumped up and took the stairs two at a time, his flesh burning and his muscles trembling. "Lincoln!" Lori called after him, but he ignored her.

Lacy was on her stomach in the middle of her room, Lyra's knee planted between her shoulder blades and Liena sitting aside, her face pale. "Get out!" Lincoln yelled, and all three of his daughters jumped.

Obeying, Liena jumped up and rushed past him. Lyra didn't move; Lincoln snatched her by the back of her shirt and dragged her off, flinging her aside. "Daddy!"

Lacy's body shook; she knew what was coming.

Lincoln stipped off his belt, brought it up, and lashed it across Lacy's back; the girl wailed and trembled.

"Daddy!" Lyra wept. "Stop!"

Lincoln pulled the belt back and brought it down again, this time across the backs of Lacy's legs. She screamed pitifully, her body tensing and hot tears flowing from her eyes. "I-I-I'm sorry!" Lacy sobbed. Lincoln cracked the belt one final time; it hit her between the shoulder blades with a meaty thwock and she moaned in agony.

Still shaking, Lincoln threw the belt aside and knelt next to his daughter. "If you ever hurt one of your little sisters again, I will put you in juvie. Do you understand?"

"Yes!" Lacy sobbed. "I'm sorry, don't hurt me again!"

Lincoln got up and glanced at Lyra: She was sitting in the middle of the hall with her knees drawn to her chest and a haunted look in her eye; tears stained her sallow cheeks. Something about her drawn expression penetrated the fog of Lincoln's rage, and he looked down at Lacy: She was crying and trembling, an ugly red mark marring the creamy flesh of her legs. Lincoln blinked, and something approaching horror filled him.

He went too far.

In the living room, Lupa watched Leia; the little girl sat on the couch with her hands pressed to her face. Lola's arms were wrapped around her and she whispered soft, encouraging words. Lupa's face was placid, expressionless, but on the inside she was smiling. You deserved it, she thought.

Lola got up and went into the kitchen to get a first aid kit, and slowly, evilly, Leia began to laugh...

Dinner was a silent, somber affair: Lacy's face was red and wet with tears, and she stared down at her plate with a shell-shocked expression. Leia's nose was red and swollen, her right eye black and puffy and her porcelain flesh covered in bruises. Lyra and Liena looked as though she had seen a ghost, both of their faces pale and drawn. Loan sat in an adult high chair with a bib around her neck, Lori feeding her bits of mashed peas. Lizy stole a glance at Leia and felt a mixture of sympathy and satisfaction. Maybe she wouldn't be so mean to her now.

Lynn shot daggers at her brother, her lips screwed up and her eyes hard. When she got home and found out what happened, she and Lincoln got into a fight. She slapped him across the face and he slapped her back. Look at her back, Lincoln! Lynn cried, referring to the ugly red welts crisscrossing their daughter's skin. Look at Leia's face, Lincoln retorted. Of course, Lynn sneered, your precious little Leia, poor baby. Her face tingled at the memory of his blow, and she sought out the red palm mark on his cheek, a rush of savage satisfaction going through her.

Liby could sense the tension in the air, and her appetite suffered: She pushed her food around with her fork, her little heart throbbing with anxiety. She felt herself being watched, and looked up to see Lemy leering at her; he chewed with his mouth open, white mashed potatoes mixed with drool coursing down his chin. She hurriedly looked away.

"How was everyone's day?" Luna asked to break the deadly silence.

Lincoln stabbed a hunk of meat, the tines of his fork scraping against his plate. Luan took a drink and Lana lifted a spoonful of peas to her lips. Luna looked out over her children, siblings, and nieces. No one spoke. No one looked at her. "You ready for school tomorrow?" she asked Lyra.

Lyra nodded. "Yes." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Can I be excused?" Lacy asked suddenly. "My back hurts."

"Yes," Lynn said and looked pointedly at Lincoln, who couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze. Lacy slipped out of her chair with a mumbled "Thank you," took her dishes to the sink, then scurried out of the room. Lincoln watched her go from the corner of his eye, his stomach knotting with guilt. He drew a heavy breath and finished the rest of his beer.

"Can I be excused too, Daddy?" Leia asked. "My nose, eye, face, and mouth all hurt."

"Yes," Lincoln said.

She got up, took her things to the sink, then disappeared.

Lupa trailed the little girl with her eyes. She couldn't be sure, but she suspected Leia planned the whole thing, knowing full well that Lacy would snap and that Dad, too, would snap in turn. She was a devious little bitch, and at this point, Lupa wouldn't put anything past her.

When dinner was over, Lincoln took another beer from the fridge and guzzeled it. His mind was fuzzy, but the guilt in his chest was still sharp. SIghing, he tossed the empty into the trash can and went upstairs. Lacy's door was closed, and for a long time he stood in front of it and tried to build up the courage to face his daughter. Finally, he knocked, and Lupa called out for him to enter. He turned the knob and pushed it open: Lupa was lying on her bed, her arm hanging over the side and a cigarette between her fingers. Lacy was humped under the covers and unmoving. "Hey, Dad," Lupa said, and Lacy tensed.

"Hey," Lincoln said and rubbed the back of his neck, "I, uh...I need to talk to your sister."

Lupa lifted the cigarette to her lips. "Then talk."

Lincoln closed the door behind him, went over to Lacy's bed, and sat, his hand going to her shoulder. His heart broke at the way her body trembled under his touch. "Honey," he started, "I-I'm sorry for what happened earlier. I...I was wrong to do that."

Lacy didn't reply.

"I just…" he trailed off and drew a deep breath. "I lost it."

Lupa blew a plume of smoke which hung lazily in the air.

Lincoln twisted around and looked down at Lacy's face: She stared at her sister, her lips flattened and her expression hard. He touched her cheek, and she turned slightly, her big, brown eyes meeting his own. He saw hurt in them, and he began to cry. "I'm sorry," he said.

Lacy watched him for a moment, then sighed. "It's okay, Dad. I shouldn't have beaten Leia up."

Lincoln leaned over and brushed her bangs from her face. The yeasty smell of beer on his breath found her nostrils, and her nose pinched. "Kids fight," he said, "but what I did…" he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Lacy. I love you."

His tearful eyes were pooled with ernesty, and Lacy's heart broke. She loved her Daddy dearly, and she knew how hard things were on him...yet she made it worse by not listening to him. He didn't ask for much, just for her to not play ball in the house, but she couldn't do even that. She was a terrible daughter…a terrible person...she deserved what she got, but she did not deserve him.

When he leaned in to kiss her, she met his lips with her own, their tongues meeting and swirling. He slipped his hand into her hair and she touched the side of his face. Despite her flaws - her stubbornness, her ugly cleft - he still loved her. Why, she didn't know, but he did, and she was so grateful for that that she could cry.

Lupa took a drag and flicked her ash into the ashtray on the nightstand, her body freezing when she saw her father slipping under the covers and mounting her sister. They kissed hungrily, desperately, their lips making wet sounds that Lupa found endlessly disgusting. She sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

Shaking with passion, Lincoln slipped his hands under his daughter's shirt and danced his fingers over her taut stomach and the gentle swell of her pubescent breasts. She gasped into his mouth and spread her legs; his bulge raked her center through his jeans, and the crotch of her gym shorts dampened with her rising desire.

He broke the kiss, and with trembling fingers, he pulled down her shorts and unzipped his pants; they gazed deeply into each other's eyes as he aligned their sexes and pushed down, his tip penetrating her. She gasped.

Lupa tipped her ash again and thought of Leia. Something had to be done about her; she was a goddamn menace to society. What, though? She imagined creeping into her sister's room late at night and strangling her, but shivered. Lupa Loud might be a lot of things, but a murderer was not one of them.

"Daddy…" Lacy moaned and arched her back. Her father planted soft kisses along her jaw, across her neck, and on her shoulder. His hips rocked in time with hers, and everything - the rage, the pain, the hatred - drained away from her, for in that moment only he existed, and he loved her completely.

"I love you," he said huskily.

"I love you too."

Lupa stubbed her cigarette out and laced her fingers over her chest.

"Daddy...I'm cumming…."

"Me too, baby, me too…"

Lacy wrapped her legs around her father's waist and squeezed. Her orgasm burst within her, and she was swept away on a tide of pleasure. Dad thrusted once, twice, three times, then swelled painfully against her walls with a long, low moan. His hot, sticky seed shot from him and splashed against the opening of her cervix, making her shudder and squeal. "Lacy…" he moaned.

Lupa glanced over at her father and sister: He held himself up and stared down into Lacy's eyes, a little smile on his lips. Lacy smiled back, her eyes filled with love and adoration, the beating she caught earlier that afternoon apparently forgotten.

Dad got up, a silvery ribbon of cum hanging from the tip of his penis. He pulled up his pants and sat down. For the next thirty minutes, he and Lacy cuddled and laughed. Lupa didn't pay attention to what they said because she was back to thinking about Leia.

No, Lupa was not a murderer, but she wished she was...

In the dark of an autumn night, a door creaks slowly open, and a spill of light spreads across the floor. A shadow appears, long at first but growing shorter as it enters the rooms and crosses to the bed. Soft snoring and the hiss of wind in the eaves are the only sounds...save for heavy, ragged breathing.

Lemy stands over his older sister, Liby, the front of his underwear sticking out with his erection. In her sleep, the girl's brow pinches and she stirs, a mutter escaping her trembling lips. He rapes her with his eyes, panting faster as his passions rises. Finally, it becomes too much and he peels his dirty briefs from his body, his rigid penis popping out and pointing possessively at the sleeping girl. He slips under the blankets, and she wakes, her eyes opening slowly, her tired orbs muddled with confusion. When she sees his grinning face, she pales, and her heart begins to race.

"W-What are you doing?" she asks fearfully.

He doesn't speak; instead, he mounts her and pins her wrists above her head. Her eyes widen and her chest pounds in terror. "L-Lemy, s-stop."

Lemy pants even harder; he grins suggestively and thrusts against her, his throbbing penis rubbing between her thighs, its tip poking her through her panties.

"S-Stop," she begs, and begins to cry. "Please stop."

Lemy laughs maniacally and thrusts harder; she can feel his animal heat through the fabric of her underwear; it's sick, fevered, and terrible.

She cries harder. "Please stop."

In the next bed over, Lyra stirs and lifts her head. "What's going on?" she asks tiredly.

"Please, stop, Lemy!"

Lyra blinks and sits up, her eyes squinting in the darkness. She can just make out her brother on top of their sister, his body bent and his hands holding hers against the mattress. "What are you doing?" she asks.

"Having sex with Liby," Lemy pants.

Lyra blinks. "Lemy...Liby doesn't want to have sex." Liby had the mentality of a five-year-old, and unlike her sisters, she did not like sex.

"But Lemy horny."

"Well...come here."

Lemy looks over at her. She's sitting up in bed with the blankets pooled around her waist. In the dim half light, he can see the outline of her breasts through the fabric of her nightgown. She holds out her arms. "Come here," she repeats. Lemy looks down at Liby; she's sobbing, her eyes narrowed and filled with tears.

"Lemy…"

Lemy releases Liby's arms, climbs out of her bed, and crosses to Lyra, who smiles warmly at him. "Have sex with me," she says.

Lemy licks his chops.

Lyra pulls her nightgown over her head and throws it aside, freeing her pert breasts. She holds her arms out again, and Lemy steps into them: She pulls him into her lap and kisses the side of his face, which makes him giggle. Across the room, Liby sniffles.

"Liby doesn't like sex," Lyra explains patiently.

"Why?"

"Because she doesn't...but I do." She lays back and slips her legs out from under the covers. Lemy watches with wonder as she spreads them, baring her pink, glistening sex. He titters then mounts her, the tip of his penis poking between her folds. She takes him in her hand and guides him to her opening. "There...thrust."

Lemy throws his hips forward and plunges deep into his sister: Her walls ripple around him like wet satin, and his breath catches. She smiles up at him, her eyes sparkling in the faint illumination. He leans forward and begins to hump, his eyes rolling back into his head as his orgasm forms quickly in his depths.

"That's right," Lyra says and runs her fingers through his hair, "cum in me, Lemy."

Lemy lays his hands against her shoulders and pins her to the bed as his speed increases. He bows his head and bites his bottom lip as his seed shoots up from his loins and fills his penis.

Lyra thrusts her hips up to meet his; she's breathing heavy now, too, her body flushed and her cheeks burning. "Cum in me."

Lemy cries out as he swells then spurts, his molten load launching deep into Lyra's womb; she purrs when she feels it filling her and spreading its heat through her body.

Panting, Lemy falls limp against her chest, his lips inadvertently grazing her nipple. She strokes his hair and kisses the top of his head. "Was that good?"

Lemy nods.

"Good," she whispers, "now go to sleep."

"Okay."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Lyra wraps her arms around his thin frame, and soon, they are both asleep.

But for Liby, sleep does not come easy.

And neither does peace of mind.

Leia stared at her battered face in her vanity mirror, rage and hatred burning in her chest. She opened her mouth and prodded her front tooth with her finger; it wiggled loosely in her gum, and the coppery tang of blood filled her mouth.

She took a deep, angry breath. How fucking dare Lacy put her hands on her like that...how dare she. Stupid meathead, airhead, fissure face jock. Oooooh, Leia hated that bitch so much it hurt.

That was okay, though, because Lacy had something coming to her. Leia wasn't exactly sure what, but she did know that it would be fatal. It might not be tomorrow, and it might not be next year, but it would happen, mark her words.

She got up, turned, and went to her bed. Lizy was on her own, a model of the Titanic half assembled in her lap. She looked up at her older sister and frowned. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Leia said tightly and dropped onto her bed.

"I'm sorry Lacy…"

"Shut up and leave me alone," Leia snapped and turned toward the wall.

Lizy opened her mouth to speak again, but figured it would be best to do what Leia said. She focused on her model instead, her eyes filled with sadness. She really wished Leia was nicer; she very much wanted to be close to her the way she was close to Lyra and Liena. Nothing

would make her happier, not even the biggest, coolest model in the world.