Sandra clutched her rosary as she boarded the bus, the familiar beads cool against her sweaty palms, a desperate attempt to anchor herself to something pure. The cool morning air did little to alleviate the heat that burned between her legs. The fabric of her cotton panties, damp and clinging, chafed against her skin with every stride. She took a seat on the back of the bus and closed her eyes, focusing on the rhythmic repetition of the prayer. 'Hail Mary, full of grace... Daddy's smile... Hail Mary, full of grace... the warmth of his hand... Hail Mary, full of grace... the wetness between her legs...' The words felt hollow, empty, replaced by a growing sense of unease. The more she prayed, the more intense the temptation became, a cruel mockery of her faith.

She hurried to her first class, the dampness between her legs a constant, throbbing reminder of her shame. 'He always makes me feel safe,' her voice whispered in the back of her mind but really it was the Cognitive Corruptor denying her a second's peace. Algebra equations blurred into meaningless symbols. 'He's so strong', the voice insisted. History dates swam before her eyes. 'He knows what's best for me', it purred. Even the comforting familiarity of English class offered no solace. 'You need to please him', the voice concluded, leaving her breathless and confused.

And through it all, the constant, nagging awareness of her own body. The weight of her breasts against her bra, the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, the persistent ache between her legs. 'I'm so dirty. I'm so ashamed,' the voice whispered, laced with a perverse satisfaction. 'But I can't stop thinking about him'.

He wasn't a movie star. Just Daddy. Middle-aged, a little overweight, balding, but solid, dependable, and now, the secret focus of her thoughts. 'He's always been there for me'. A shameful heat bloomed between her legs. 'He's so strong, so protective. He would never let anything happen to me. He's the only one I can truly trust.'

Recess offered no escape, as she sat among her friends, their pious chatter about prayer and virtue seemed to drift further away, like a melody fading into the distance. Sandra felt a growing disconnect, a chasm widening between her and the world she once shared with them. She yearned to confide in them, to share the turmoil that raged within her, but the words caught in her throat. 'They wouldn't understand,' the Cognitive Corruptor thought for her, a pang of loneliness piercing her heart. 'They would judge me, see my desires as unnatural and sinful.' She forced a smile, trying to engage in their conversation, but her mind was elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of her father and the forbidden longing that threatened to overwhelm her. 'I have to keep this to myself,' she resolved, a heavy weight settling in her chest as she realized the true extent of her transformation.

In her loneliness, she desperately grasped for distraction. Instagram flashed images of strong, guiding men, men who reminded her of her father, men who she imagined looking at her with that same intensity, a gaze that promised both protection and belonging. 'I wish he looked at me like that,' a voice whispered, a voice that seemed to know her deepest desires, a voice that was slowly rewriting her reality. Memories of her Daddy flooded her mind, the way he brushed her hair, a casual touch that sparked something in her she wasn't ready to admit to herself, a forbidden longing that threatened to consume her, a desire that was slowly eclipsing her faith. 'He cares about me. He really cares. He's the only one who really understands me. He's the only one who will ever truly loves me.' Now that the CC app had made a crack on the dam of her purity, a torrent of depravity and sin was flooding her soul, drowning her in a sea of forbidden desires.

'Incest'. The word formed in her mind, unbidden, unwelcome, undeniable. It was a terrifying whisper. A secret she was beginning to admit to herself. The realization hit her like a physical blow, a jolt of electricity coursing through her veins. 'I am attracted to my father,' she thought, the words echoing in her mind with a sickening finality. The immorality of it was not lost on her; it was a dark, twisted truth that she could no longer ignore. Her body betrayed her, responding to thoughts and memories that were now tinged with a perverse longing. She felt a wave of nausea and shame wash over her, a conflict between the purity she once held dear and the depraved desires that her mind was beginning to accept. 'This isn't right,' she whispered to herself, but the voice of her conscience was slowly becoming drowned in a sea of forbidden lust, a lust that the Cognitive Corruptor was so expertly cultivating and amplifying.

'I have to fight this. I have to prove my faith. I have to show God that I am worthy of His grace.' But the phone, and the Cognitive Corruptor app inside, pulsed with a silent, insidious energy, whispering promises of comfort and connection. The thought of leaving her father, of disappointing him, made her anxious to hear from him.

Her fingers hovered over her phone's keyboard, the words 'Do you love me?' forming in her mind, but she deleted them, too raw, too desperate. Instead, she typed. "What should I make for dinner tonight? I want to cook for you." The connection to her father, the comfort in that connection, was a siren's call she couldn't ignore.

She hit send, her heart racing as she waited for a response. It didn't take long.

The reply pinged almost immediately. "A good daughter always knows what her father wants. You'll figure it out."

Her breath hitched as she read the message. The words were simple, innocuous even, but the underlying meaning was clear to her. He expected her to anticipate his needs, to understand his desires without him having to spell them out. It was a test, a challenge, and a thrill shot through her at the prospect of passing it. But beneath the thrill, a wave of guilt washed over her. 'Incest' the word echoed in her mind.

The phone felt warm in her hand, almost alive. She stared at the message, trying to decipher its hidden meaning. What did she want him to want? Was it just a delicious meal? Or was it something more? Something darker? 'Stop it!' she told herself 'Don t deny the truth' Convent shot back in a voice that was indistinguishable from her own.

Eyes squeezed shut as she tried to fight the images. His pudgy face, etched with a familiar authority. His hands, capable and strong, now ghosting over her skin in her imagination. An unspoken want that she had dared to project onto him, now a brand searing her flesh.

'I'm sexually attracted to my father.' The thought, once a fragile whisper, now hammered against her skull, each pulse a fresh wave of mortification. Shame bloomed in her core, a dark, throbbing heat that both disgusted and thrilled her. It was a forbidden intimacy, a secret pleasure born of the most profound humiliation, and the knowledge of its existence sent a shiver down her spine, a tremor that was undeniably, shamefully, arousal.

As the bell for the end of school rang in the background, she pleaded, 'Lord, give me strength,' she pleaded, 'Help me to resist this temptation. Help me avoid sin' her mind crying out to God but as soon as she did, her thoughts returned to her father and the familiar warmth between her legs re-asserted itself . Not just wet, but a throbbing ache. A need she couldn't deny.

Sandra bolted for the exit, a flush of shame and anticipation burning her cheeks. Too ashamed to say goodbye to her friends to talk to anyone.

As she waited for the bus, Sandra's mind raced. 'I'm aroused by my father.' The words echoed, a relentless drumbeat of shame and horror. The guilt of such sin, not just in her thoughts, but in the very core of her being, was a crushing weight.

The ride home was a blur, the silence broken only by the occasional rumble of the engine and the chatter of other passengers. Sandra stared out the window, watching the world pass by in a haze. She tried to focus on anything but the growing need within her, but it was no use. Her body ached with a longing that she couldn't ignore. And the guilt of knowing that her desires were a betrayal of everything her faith stood for. 'Incest' the Cognitive Corruptor shouted into her mind the repetition making the word, the lust, become more and more acceptable.

She reached the front door of her father's home, her hand trembling as she reached for the knob. She went to her room, closing the door firmly behind her. The familiar space felt alien, tainted by her sinful thoughts. She looked at herself in the mirror, her reflection staring back with a mixture of fear and defiance.

A wave of guilt washed over her, not just for her lustful thoughts, but for the idea of leaving him. 'How could she even consider abandoning him to become a nun? He had always been there for her, sacrificing everything for her happiness. How could she repay him by leaving him alone?'

She walked to her desk looking for her bible, trying to find solace and God in the written words.

'I am a terrible daughter,' she thought. I am consumed by lustful thoughts, and I am selfishly considering abandoning my father, the man who has always been my rock. 'How can I even think of leaving him? He needs me. He loves me. And I am repaying him with sin and betrayal.'

She paused, her hand trembling. She knew she had to fight these sinful desires, not just for God, but for her father. She couldn't let her lust destroy their relationship, or her chance at life of devotion.

She flipped through the pages of her Bible, searching, searching for anything until her desperate soul found something. "If your right eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell." (Matthew 5:29)

The words resonated with her, a stark and uncompromising call to action. She knew what she had to do. She had to punish her body for its sinful desires. She had to inflict pain upon herself to cleanse herself of her lust.

'If my body is causing me to sin' she thought, 'Then I must punish it, submit to God for penance.'

She closed the Bible, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew that what she was about to do would be painful, perhaps even dangerous. But she was willing to do whatever it took to purify herself and prove her devotion.