Disclaimer: The Loud House and associated characters belong to Nickelodeon and Chris Savino.

Pandora's Box

By Lola Presents

Forward

I know many of you frown upon fetishes. However, constantly writing stories that fall short of satisfying my interests for the sake of higher numbers has been bothering me. They feel like a series of false starts, dwindling my enthusiasm for the stories.

While this story is primarily for my enjoyment, it will include a wide variety of fetishes, everything from BDSM to mild electrocution, not just those I enjoy. There will be a little something for everyone. Everyone Lincoln engages with will be slightly different.

Pandora's Box is a story that I've sat on for some time now, fearing what people might think of me should I publish it. However, if I didn't, it would haunt me forever, and I would never get the satisfaction of having put it out there for others to read.

I am not going to hold back on the descriptions and narrative. It will be highly perverted and disgusting in some places but will have a satisfying ending. Gradual moral degradation can be as infectious as any virus, given the right conditions, and ultimately leads to suffering.

So, without further ado, I give you Pandora's Box.

Chapter 1

Lincoln had always considered himself to be a likable person. He had many friends across the genders and even had a few tentative girlfriends over the years. But even before he'd reached puberty, Lincoln knew something was wrong.

Shortly after his twelfth birthday, Lincoln's pituitary gland became active, sending hormones raging through his body. Lustful thoughts soon began consuming his mind, demanding most of his attention, and forcing him to retreat to the solitude of his room.

Just as he had for the millionth time since his birthday, Lincoln locked his door, undressed, and sat on his bed with his laptop resting between his legs. Ensuring his earbuds were securely in place, Lincoln pulled up his favorite porn site and clicked the first video he saw.

Ignoring the introductory material, Lincoln opened his nightstand drawer. After fetching a jar of Vaseline, he dabbed a bit on his palm and began working his already stiffening cock into a full erection. Intently staring at the screen as the action started, he moaned quietly.

Lincoln's journey down the rabbit hole of obscenity had taken its toll on the young man over the past six months. Simple sex videos no longer interested him. He'd explored traditional, lesbian, gay, and group offerings. But he'd moved past them in search of something more.

A relatively decent-looking man, approximately thirty years of age, sat nude on his couch, masturbating furiously. Soon, the unknown man came, sending spurts of semen across the coffee table, the floor, and the sofa's edge in front of him.

The man continued to work his rod without skipping a beat as the sound of a door opening and closing echoed throughout the room. Turning, the man addressed someone off-screen, grinning wickedly.

"Hi, honey," the man said, still massaging himself. "How was school?"

"It was okay..." sighed a small female voice as a young girl walked into the frame. "It could've been better, though."

"Oh, don't tell me..." frowned the man. "We studied all night for that test!"

Looking forlorn, the girl, who couldn't have been more than eight, slung her bookbag from her shoulder, uncaringly landing it upon her father's semen. Then, pulling out a wrinkled sheet of paper, she presented it to him, suddenly smiling.

"I passed!" she chirped, tossing the exam aside. "So, can I?"

"Of course, honey," the man replied, nodding as his daughter stripped out of her skirt and blouse, teasing her father. "But why are you leaving your shoes and socks on?" he asked as she positioned herself between his legs and slowly backed up.

"'Cause!" she exclaimed as she sat on his waiting member, sticky with cum. "It makes me feel even more naked than I am!"

Then, moaning loudly as he father's cock penetrated her waiting asshole, she braced herself upon his knees. Soft suction-like noises emanated from underneath the girl. Then, the camera angle changed to her father's point of view.

As the girl repeatedly forced herself onto him, then pulled away, the man's dick grew increasingly covered in his daughter's waste. Soon, a sizable amount of her tantalizing brown cream spread between them, and the man began smearing it across her supple little cheeks.

"God, yes..." murmured Lincoln under his breath. "Fuck the shit out of her!"

The unfathomably horny teen frantically continued to work his rod as the video played, working himself toward an enormous ejaculation. He could feel it coming, and just as the man announced his impending arrival, the girl pulled off him, sat on her haunches, and took his load to her face.

Thrilled to the pinnacle of ecstasy, Lincoln slapped his laptop shut just before erupting, sending several shots of cum onto his blankets. Once Lincoln's member stopped throbbing, he cleaned up and reopened the computer, hoping to catch the aftermath.

At this point, the man was lying prone on the couch, with his daughter engaged in a very energetic sixty-nine as they orally cleaned up their mess. Lincoln tried again to rouse himself, but his body refused. Deciding instead to enjoy the rest of the video simply, Lincoln realized something.

Despite the perversion that Lincoln had subjected himself to over the past six months, he'd yet to try any of it himself. It seemed hypocritical of him, though the thought disgusted him. Still, it looked so inviting he made up his mind. The next time he used the restroom, he'd attempt it.

For now, school beckoned. Lincoln grabbed his book bag, left his room, and headed downstairs for breakfast. When Lincoln once enjoyed the morning meal, chatting with his sisters, it now tortured him. He had to eat, but facing them was difficult, considering what he wanted to do to them.

"Good morning, honey," chirped his mother as she offered him a plate.

"I guess," the teenage boy groaned as he shoveled down his breakfast.

"Geez..." complained Luna. "What's wrong with you lately? You're acting more depressed than Lucy."

"Who cares?" barked Lincoln, avoiding eye contact with them.

"I do!" scolded the target of Luna's comparison. "You're treading on my hallmarks!"

"Whatever..." sighed Lincoln, downing his orange juice.

"What's wrong, baby?" asked his mother as she stood beside him, placing one hand on his shoulder.

"He needs a girlfriend," spouted Luan, chuckling at herself for calling him out. "That's what's wrong. Ronnie's been brushing him off, and Stella flatly turned him down."

"Fuck you, Luan!" Lincoln cursed as he stood, grabbed his things, and headed for the bus. Then, stopping at the threshold to the dining room, he looked over his shoulder. "You know what, fuck all of you."

Lincoln didn't hate his sisters. Not in the least. He loved them dearly, perhaps too much. Yet, he knew he could never pursue them and tried everything in the book to keep from including them in his fantasies. However, His vain attempts failed at every turn, leaving him stressed.

Several minutes later, the last of her offspring left the kitchen, leaving Rita to ponder the morning's conversation. Too shocked to respond to Lincoln's outburst yet unwilling to dismiss it, she allowed him to take his leave and go to school unscathed.

Lincoln had become increasingly depressed and isolated over the past several months, and Rita hadn't failed to notice. At first, it was the occasional disappearance. But lately, his tone had changed altogether. Something was bothering him, and she needed to find out what.

However, there was little she could do about it now. Lincoln had left for school, as had her other children. Lynn had left for work, and there were chores to do. Sighing reluctantly, Rita headed downstairs to fetch an empty laundry basket.

"These kids..." she muttered as she moved from room to room, beginning with Leni's, picking up all the soiled clothing.

Before Rita realized it, she was standing awkwardly in front of her only son's door, silent and unmoving. Her trepidation was palpable, keeping her mind from focusing. But whatever she found inside would give her insight into her son's problems, which was worth the intrusion.

Apprehensively, Rita turned the knob and let the door swing open. At first glance, Lincoln's room appeared no different than her other children's, save for the contrast in decoration and color. Clothes lay on the floor, unread comics adorned the nightstand, and the bedding was left unmade.

Nothing seemed amiss. No residual odors hinted at drug use, and no tobacco smells filled the room. Slowly, Rita began to relax, believing Lincoln's recent behavior was merely an adolescent phase. Setting the basket on the floor, she readied herself to make another bed.

Rita hummed as she picked up Lincoln's laptop and earbuds, relocating them to the nightstand. Then something caught her eye. It seemed that some of Lincoln's model glue had gotten on it. Not wanting it to harden and ruin the laptop, Rita pulled a tissue from the nearby box of Kleenex.

However, with the first wipe, Rita knew the substance wasn't what she thought. For one thing, it was entirely too uncongealed. For another, there was no bottle of glue anywhere in sight. Staring at it intently, she couldn't fathom what it was.

It wasn't until after she'd cleaned the cover, tossed the tissue, and turned toward the bed that she noticed more of the goo. Then, something clicked inside her, and she glanced back at the laptop. Grabbing it, she opened the lid and saw the website the screen displayed.

The video might have ended, but it was still showing. Hesitantly, Rita put the earbuds in and clicked Replay. Initially, she was intrigued. While it was clear that Lincoln was dealing with puberty and needed some guidance, it had been a while since she'd watched anything herself and obliged.

However, her anticipation soon turned to shock as the video played. Horrified, Rita closed the site entirely and left the room in tears. Her beloved son had somehow become twisted, and she believed it was all her fault for not preparing him sooner.

There was no denying it now, however. Rita would have to have a heart-to-heart talk with her son when he came home from school. While she would prefer to wait for her husband to join them, she knew that any delay would only exacerbate things.

Trying desperately to avoid any thought of the disturbing yet erotic video, she busied herself with her chores. After doing the laundry, she cleaned the house, followed by doing the morning dishes. Finally, she took out the trash and refilled the pet's bowls.

As it grew closer to the time her children would arrive home, she put on her best face, grabbed her purse, and left to pick up Lily from daycare. While Lily wasn't as bright as her sister, Lisa, she wasn't precisely dense either. Even t two years old, Lily knew something was wrong.

Despite talking to her in kind, loving words, Rita left a visible impression on the child. Perhaps it was her crossed legs, the constant tapping of her dangling foot, or the nervous twiddling of her finger. Whatever the reason, Lily instinctively knew not to cause her mother further worry.

After Lisa, Lola, Lana, and Lucy came through the door, it didn't take long for their inane babbling and squabbling to cease as they noticed their mother brooding on the sofa. As they placed their book bags on the floor near the front door, they stared at their mother, waiting for an explanation.

"Lucy," muttered the child's mother. "Please take Lily and your sisters into the backyard to play. I need to talk to your brother when he gets home."

"Yes, ma'am," replied Lucy sullenly but respectfully, knowing better than the refuse her mother when she looked the way she did. Then, after scooping up the confused toddler, Lucy escorted her sisters out the back door. "Come on, guys. Let's get out of the way."

The younger children almost always got home first, with the elementary school being closer to home. The high schoolers came next, as Leni opted to drive them home instead of taking the bus. Though the two groups sometimes arrived at different times, Lincoln and Lynn were always last.

After demanding that her older daughters join their younger siblings in the backyard, she waited for Lincoln and Lynn to arrive. When the two finally wandered into the house, Rita immediately directed Lynn to a similar fate before addressing her silently brooding son.

"Upstairs," she ordered, pointing stiff-armed toward his room. "Now."

As Lincoln ascended the stairs, he muttered to himself, fully expecting a thorough reprimand for his morning outburst. However, as he reluctantly entered his room, he met an entirely different reality. It was evident that someone had gone through his room, searching every nook and cranny.

"Mom!" Lincoln seethed as his mother entered behind him and locked the door. "You went through my things?!"

"Yes, I did," Rita admitted without hesitation. "And we need to talk."

"Talk?" barked Lincoln, becoming enraged on top of mortified. "About what?"

"About your behavior this morning," his mother replied, leaning against his door, "and for the last few months," she continued. Lowering her gaze slightly, she sighed and took a leap of faith. "I know what's been bothering you, and I need to apologize," she told him. "I knew this day was coming, but I avoided it like the plague. I know how to talk to girls, but not boys."

"What are you saying, Mom?" pleaded Lincoln, sporting red, puffy eyes as he folded his arms in self-defense. "Get to the point."

"I know you're going through..." she began, unable to voice the truth, "um," she mumbled, shaking her hair from her face. "It's just..." she tried again, pointing to her son's bed. "You didn't clean up after yourself this morning," she whispered, curling her lips inward for a moment afterward. "There was some on your laptop too, and I put things together."

"Mom!" Lincoln belted, mortified beyond belief. "You could've just cleaned it up and stayed silent!" he scolded his mother as she sat on the edge of his bed, covering his face in embarrassment.

"I probably would have if it hadn't been for the video," she offered.

"The video?" Lincoln repeated in confusion as he followed his mother's gaze to his mobile computer. "Oh, fuck..."

"Lincoln, sweetheart..." pleaded Rita. "I understand that you're in a very confusing time. But videos that involve adults having sex with children are illegal, not to mention that sharing their..." she announced before pausing to collect her composure, "...waste is a sign you may need help. If only I'd stepped up sooner, you might not..."

"Mom!" exclaimed Lincoln, standing up and facing his mother. "Nothing is going to help!" he argued. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way, but I like what I like. No amount of therapy will ever change that because I don't want to change! I like who I am! I enjoy the perversion!"

"I see..." muttered his mother, small tears forming in the corner of her eyes. "And your sisters?" she hesitantly prodded, recalling how distant he'd become toward them.

"What do you want me to say, Mom?" pleaded Lincoln in complete desperation. "Huh? That I'm not interested in them? That they're safe? Well, I can't do that! I want them, Mom. I want them so bad..." he trailed off, crying as he sat back down, unable to remain upright.

"Alright," whimpered his mother as she turned, reaching for the doorknob. "You stay here until your father comes home, and we have a chance to..."

Rita never finished her demands, stopping mid-sentence when Lincoln rushed to her and wrapped his arms around her. His right arm cradled her mid-life belly while his left lay further up at an odd angle, his left hand cupping her right breast. The shock of the gesture had silenced her.

Though Lincoln was wholly unaware of his hand's placement as he pressed himself into his mother's back, weeping profusely, Rita felt the strength and tenderness in his arms and the warmth of his hand against her slowly erecting nipple.

"Please, Mom?" he begged through staggered tears. "Don't tell Dad. You know how he can be. He'll overreact, and his blood pressure will go up," he argued. "Then, everyone will know, and I don't think I could handle that. It's already bad enough that I can't do anything with them, but to have them tease me about it would be even worse."

Rita closed her eyes and considered his argument. His words were sound, though they stemmed from embarrassment rather than genuine concern, and maybe she could use that to help him. Taking a deep breath, Rita exhaled slowly, then spun in his arms to face him.

"Very well," she said, straightening her top after Lincoln stepped back. "We'll handle this together. But make no mistake, one false step, and it's off to therapy with you. And I'll be watching closely. Do you understand?" she inquired as he picked up his laptop, tucking it under her arms.

"Yes, ma'am..." acknowledged the chastised boy as he sat forlornly on the edge of his bed.

"Alright then," chirped Rita, shaking her hair from her face again and blowing on her bangs. "I have to get dinner started. In the meantime, I understand if you don't want to interact with your sisters, but if you must, be nice. Swearing at them isn't going to help. It'll only make them more suspicious of you. If we're going to deal with this, they can't know."

Lincoln pursed his lips and nodded before his mother finally unlocked the door and left.

Cursing his absent-mindedness, Lincoln slowly rose, faced his wall, and began punching it. While they began softly, his punches picked up in strength and speed until the paint was stained light red.

Lincoln considered his knuckles.

"Damn it!" he muttered under his breath.

It was bad enough that she'd snooped around, discovering his secret, but there was no way he could avoid her, or look at her the same, knowing she was aware of his desires. She'd even taken his laptop and would probably go through his search history. Soon, she'd see the depth of his depravity.

Sighing as he watched a trickle of blood seep over the edge of his finger and fall to the floor, his entire body shuddered under the emotional strain, focusing his mind. He was bleeding and needed to do something about it before anyone noticed.

Grabbing a used towel from his hamper, Lincoln balled his fist into it and made his way to the restroom.

After taking Lincoln's laptop to her room and laying it on her writer's desk, Rita returned to the kitchen to cut up some potatoes and carrots, adding them to the roast that had simmered over the night. She then made a fresh pitcher of tea before setting the timer and disappearing into her room.

Securing her door, Rita meandered over to her desk, putting her hand on her hips and staring disparagingly at the laptop. Biting her lower lip, she scrunched her mouth up as she considered what to do with it. Formatting the drive was one option. However, she opted for another.

"If I'm going to help Lincoln," she justified as she grabbed the tablet, sat on her bed, and opened the lid, "I need to know what I'm up against."