Fast and furious

The months pass faster than you are expecting. You don't know if it was the first fucking or the fifth or the fiftieth that did the job, because after that first time it was as if the flood gates had opened: you and Dad took each other like animals anywhere and everywhere in your habitat. And who could blame you? You are both healthy, consenting adults. And there isn't much else to occupy your time. The two of you quickly develop a routine wherein most of your other activities are merely something to fill the time until you're ready to fuck again.

The Keltraxans do not interfere, at least not overtly. Little hints, however, suggest that you and Toby have pleased them with your ongoing displays of "human sexuality." Your fridge and cupboards are suddenly better stocked, with more variety and more tasty food. Even the air in your habitat seems to smell better. It's not freedom, but it's a slightly nicer cage.

You don't know when you first realized you were pregnant. You hoped, of course, from the moment that Toby first pumped you full of cum. It surprises you, how turned on you are by being bred by Daddy. But you can't deny that you love it; you love everything about it. You love long, lingering looks down the length of his naked body, taking in the strong arms he uses to pin you to the ground as he thrusts his thick cock deep inside you. You love the smell of his hair and his body, the strong, masculine scent making you even wetter every time he comes near. As your relationship continues to change, morphing from chaste father-daughter to that of naughty lovers, you explore new ways of learning about each other. His tongue presses urgently against your clit, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. The boys at college never did that. Despite the frequency of your fucking, no two couplings are ever quite the same. You continually find new ways to challenge and stimulate each other.

Your body adjusts to its new condition quite naturally, as might be expected. Your stomach, once flat and toned from hours at the gym, now bulges outward. This forms a natural shelf for your breasts, once pert and cute, to rest upon. They are swollen and sore, already leaking milk. Pink areolae and nipples have deepened in colour, becoming a dark, reddish-brown. Your new chest begs to be touched, fondled, played with, and Toby spends plenty of time making sure it gets the attention to deserves. As much as you love the sensation of Toby's mouth sucking and kissing at your hard nipples, though, it's nothing compared to the attention he now lavishes on your cunt.

You'd heard, from older friends who had taken up the MILF title, that pregnancy often makes women hornier. It's true in your case, at least. Whereas during the first few months of captivity you and Toby fucked because you were bored, or simply for fun, these last few weeks have been more about pure, animal need. Toby might be watching television or reading, and you come over to him and take his cock in your mouth without warning, or start stroking him. Sometimes you just whimper pathetically and spread your legs in front of him, rubbing your red and wet labia and running your fingers up and down your vulva with reckless abandon, just daring him to step in and take over.

The creativity and curiosity of your earlier couplings is gone now. In its place is raw, primal sex. Daddy fucks you like the bitch in heat that you are. Your baby bump makes some positions challenging, so you stick the basics. He takes you bent over, at the table or on the floor, cock plunging into your dripping cunt. He takes you lying down on the bed or the couch, your legs spread wide and bent back over your head, tits bouncing back and forth on your chest. Either way, you're reduced to a panting bitch whose only purpose is to be fucked, filled, and bred.

It turns out, you see, that stripped of the trappings and pressures of civilization, of society and schedule, you are all too quick to revert to more primitive behaviour. If this were Earth, if you and Dad, or whoever you mated with, were living an "ordinary" life, then your spicy sex life would be supplemented by more mundane concerns, like cooking and cleaning, keeping a job, seeing friends. Wearing clothes, even. This is not Earth, though. You don't have any of those other duties or distractions. You don't have clothes. And so, given unfettered 24/7 opportunity to simply fuck, the two of you act more like animals than you'd care to admit. Hours, even days will go by without you uttering a word. If you need Toby's attention, you'll grunt or moan or whimper, and he'll grab you and mount you without comment.

So the months pass faster than you are expecting, because they all blur together. You don't know exactly how much time has gone by; you have no clocks or calendars in your habitat. You don't know if it's nine months or more, or less—you don't know if the Keltraxans are letting your pregnancy run a natural course or manipulating it somehow. It's a remarkably complication-free pregnancy, so they must be monitoring you pretty closely, but you never see any signs of it. Your body just continues to change and get heavier with each passing day, until finally you wake up in the middle of the night to the unmistakable feeling of a contraction.

Fortunately the Keltraxans finally intervene instead of scarring Toby for life by putting him in the position of delivering your baby in situ. The moment you start crying out in pain, you also feel your eyes drooping again. The room starts to blur at the edges, and then a bright light floods your vision.

The next few hours pass in a blur, and you aren't sure exactly what's going on. You're on a table—in a hospital? It looks surgical, medical. You're strapped down, legs spread, devices beeping and monitoring you. Someone authoritative tells you to "push," and that sounds like a great idea, so you comply. It's painful, in a dulled, muted kind of way, and you grunt and scream and sweat and swear—and then suddenly, you hear something that resonates through your entire body on an instinctual level: you hear a baby cry. Your baby.

You wake up in your habitat again. The spot on the bed next to you is empty, and when you sit up, you see Toby standing next to a new fixture in the habitat: a crib. Hearing you stir, he turns around and smiles. He holds a bundle in his arms and comes closer, bending over to offer it to you.

"You were pretty out of it for a while," he says. "Nina, meet our newest member of the family."