Vincent's family's reaction to you knocking her up has to be seen to be believed

The huge table, made from wood so rare that environmental regulations only permit harvesting a single tree per galactic year, is occupied by two people you don't recognize, and one you, unfortunately, do.

Sitting behind a pile of half empty appetizer plates is an older couple. On the left is a blonde dame with a big hairdo, seemingly a decade or two older than your mother's apparent age, in a polka dot dress. In the center is a broad shouldered old gentleman wearing a crisp white suit and an ostentatious 10 gallon hat. He flashes his teeth in a smile as you catch his eye. "There she is! Captain Taffers! The woman of the hour, im a manner of speakin'! Well go on, you and your lady friend pull up a chair! We got ourselves a lot to talk about!"

Some part of you do that an awkward situation like this was coming. If anything, it's funny that it hasn't happened before now.

Rather than just stand there awkwardly, you hurriedly step forward, pull up a chair, and sit. Not so much as a show of bravado, but because if you didn't move quickly, your swelling cock would easily be visible protruding under the front of your dress. And the rush of excitement making you hard isn't from the older lady, lovely though she may be in her own way.

There, on the right side of the table, is Jeanette Ranton's androgynous nemesis, Vincent. Despite her conventionally masculine given name and choice of college, Vincent is very much female. A little less than a year ago when you first met her, her choice of attire and short hair made you mistake her for a slightly built freshman boy, when glimpsing her from a distance.

Now, that would no longer be possible. It was a truly memorable and delicious irony that her futa-phobia led to her willingly bending over to let herself be spit-roasted by two futas. The fact that you had been, at first, legitimately making your best effort not to cum inside Vincent's tight tomboy pussy made the moment that she got to feel your cock shuddering and unloading a massive pent-up inside her that much more satisfying.

Jeanette was generous enough to share some pictures of the swollen belly on that prejudiced blonde history professor with the huge tits, who she delivered white hot justice to using the technique you demonstrated for her on Vincent. But as for Vincent herself, you haven't seen or heard from the athlete whose vendetta against Jeannie luckily (for you) led to you getting to fuck her. Your inbox has been getting peppered with I-mails from students you spent some time with on St. Applegate for the past 9 months, but she wasn't among them. The last that you saw of Vincent was when you glanced at her shapely freckled ass on your way out of the aid station, almost 10 months ago, seeing the thick dribbles of hot cum running down her leg all the way from her pussy to the cuff of her athletic shoes.

When her period arrived a week or so after that messy rendezvous, Vincent probably thought she was getting away without any consequences for her mischievous targeting of Jeanette. But your swimmers had other ideas; after failing in the proverbial first half, your illegally enhanced sperm kept playing in overtime, and dogpiled Vinny's ovum to make sure they scored a goal when the chips were down. Vanishingly few of the college girls who took a treacherous load of cum during their biref time with you had any success popping a squat on the nearest toilet seat and trying to push the cream out. Against a torrent of cum that had been brewing up over 24 hours of teasing, Vincent may as well have not bothered attempting such a low-tech remedy. Her egg never stood a chance.

There are a set of five festive-looking mixed drinks on the table, made with exotic fruit juice imported from distant worlds. The one sitting in front of the young woman on the right side of the table is presumably a virgin drink... and Vincent's expression as she sees you approaching is frostier than the glass.

From the neck up, Vincent looks exactly the same as she did when you stripped her down, bent her over an examination table, and pounded her freshman twat all the way to a sticky creampie. But although her short haircut allowed you to mistake her for a boy when you first saw her at a distance, no such misunderstanding would be possible now, after the changes your troublemaking tadpoles have wrought on her body.

To put it simply, Vinny is about as knocked up as she could possibly be short of twins. Unlike the two older folks, Vincent didn't dress up for the outing at all. She's wearing sneakers, denim shorts... and a red babydoll t-shirt with "HUMANITY: HECK YEAH" printed on it in big block letters. It's a good thing the letters are big, or else the way that her tits are stretching it out might make such a profound, nuanced political message illegible to passersby.

The bouncy big-but-not-huge tits you so enjoyed getting to grope while you were boning Vinny have gone up a cup size, and are now visibly swollen with milk. The hem of the shirt is riding up over the pale roundness of Vincent's bloated tummy. Her fit, sporty physique makes the swell of the new life growing in her womb stand out that much more. It doesn't take a doctor to see that your little athlete is going to be arriving soon. Vincent had been sitting slumped back in her seat, with her legs spread wide, but she straightens up when she spots you.

"Un-fucking-believable." Vincent says in the sharp-tongued way of speaking that had made you so determined to bang her in spite of the consequences. "The bitch actually showed up. Hey there, 'Amanda Taffers'. Are you just that stupid, coming here like this after what you did? Or did you not even bother to remember my last name?"

As a matter of fact, you've committed the name of every young woman on St. Applegate that you impregnated to memory... at least, the ones who gave you their name in the first place. About half a dozen St. Vivians schoolgirls who'd "met" with you while their devices were in private mode declined the standard option that the galactic geneology records give to share your name and info with the other parent. For example, there is a petite asian sophomore who gave birth to your daughter a month ago whom you still only know by her message board handle, 'misstea77'.

Before you can respond, the lady int he polka dot dress with the beehive hairdo clicks her tongue loudly. "Vivi! Gosh darn it, we're in a nice restaurant. If you aren't going to bother putting on anything nice, at least keep your language clean!"

The mustachioed man chuckles loudly. He leans over and puts a hand on Vincent's head, ruffling her coppery red hair. When he speaks, it's in a deep, raspy tone. "Ahhh, don't pay her any mind, Margie. She's always been a lil' firecracker." Vincent sighs in annoyance and rolls her eyes, folding her arms over her chest, wincing slightly as her arm brushes against them due to how tender they're no doubt feeling.

"So. Have yourselves a seat, ladies. We've got a lot to talk about, as I'm sure you can see! Well, mostly Amanda here. And who is this she's with? I say, ma'am, I am absolutely pleased as punch to make your acquaintance." he says in his deep, heavily-accented voice. This guy has a love for theatrics, or quite a poker face. You are sure that he's being sarcastic and lulling you into a false sense of security, but you can't hear it in his voice.

Marisol looks like she's seen a ghost, looking back and forth between you and Vincent for a long time before she belatedly responds. "Oh! Uh, yes. Marisol Londegren, from Apsalus Trans-Spatial Ventures. I feel like maybe I should... go...? Isn't this a family affair?"

"None of that now." there is a sternness in the old man's otherwise friendly voice that brooks no disagreement. "Both of y'all, sit right down. This here establishment serves steak that's right outta the galaxy. I mean literal-wise. The critters are from the Andromeda galaxy. Don't ask how they get 'em - it's damn good eatin'! Gotta enjoy it while we can before those stick-up-the-ass bureaucrats in the galactic core ban it."

The older woman, 'Margie', shakes her head and laughs. "Oh, Buck! Now you're swearin' up a storm like a space captain, too! I swear to God, Vivi is always a bad influence on you every time we come to visit!" She, too, seems to be in a relaxed, jovial mood as she gently chides her husband.

Marisol stares at you with eyes like saucers as she slowly sits down. Vincent still looks irate, but she's smirking ever so slightly, the same as when she was thinking about getting Jeannie thrown out of college.

"Waiter! Waiter! I say, over here! Clean the space dust outta your ears, boy! We'll have five fractal xenobeast steaks. All medium rare." he pauses a moment. "Oh, and a side of old earth sweet potatoes with hand-churned butter for my favorite great granddaughter here. She's eating for two now, as you can see!"

That explains who this guy is. Silently, you're fuming at your mother, Amelia. She's really screwed you over. Maybe it would've been better if you HAD gotten drunk enough to brag to her about causing over three dozen pregnancies on a single two-week visit to St. Applegate. Not knowing what else to do, you pull up a seat and sit down - none too soon, because seeing the results of your virile seed on Vincent is giving you a stiffie which your classy choice of attire does little to hide.

"Uh... Marisol introduced herself already. I'm Amanda. Amanda Taffers, Captain of the freighter 'Superstring Serpent'. I've never heard of you before, Mr., uhh..."

"Beauford Walsh, but my friends call me 'Buck'. And back before my beloved wife bagged me, the ladies called me 'Big Buck'." the man in the stetson hat reaches across the table to give you a crushingly powerful handshake.

"Oh, Buck! Stop!" Margie, his wife, blushes and waves a chastizing hand at him.

You swallow heavily, trying to anticipate where this is going from here. You have no idea how crazy this guy may be, or if Vincent took liberties with her account of what happened to make you out to be an even worse villain than you already are. Your eyes sweep the nearby seats, wondering if you might be getting surrounded by bounty hunters. Under galactic treaty, most laws of one planet or station aren't enforceable on another, but there is always a market for hired guns who will bend (or break) one planet's laws to ensure another's are enforced.

"So, Amanda. You're a spacer, I hear! You know anything about black holes?" 'Big Buck', apparently Vincent's great grandfather, says while flashing you a toothy smile that looks more than a little predatory under his bushy white moustache, like some kind of alien shark deciding whether to take a bite out of you.

"Uhh..." you find yourself at a loss for words. You get a feeling that this is the beginning of some kind of melodramatic metaphor about how terrible a person you are. When Valerie scolds you, it gets you hot and bothered. But knowing how wealthy and powerful this 'Buck' guy is, the undertone of menace in his voice is chilling instead of arousing. It's almost enough to kill the boner that seeing Vincent's pregnant tummy gave you. Almost. "Black holes are navigation hazards, of course?" you say unsteadily, for lack of any clever response your fear-addled mind can think of.

"Pffft! Of course. That's just what those same pointy-headed bureaucrats want you to think," Buck says, sounding like he's getting worked up, "but they can be so much more! Did you know that a single mid-sized black hole with 12 stellar masses could be surrounded with concentric orbital rings and shells to turn it into a shellworld with enough living space for 10 trillion people, with a 20 square mile homestead for each and every one of 'em?"

Marisol almost spits out the drink she'd been starting to sip. "10 tri...?! That's over 5% of the entire human species! On a single artificial planet? Around a black hole? I can only imagine how many thousands of planets you would have to crack to get the resources for such a thing..."

Buck seems to have mistaken her astonished disbelief for her being impressed. "Majestic, ain't it? Mark my words, it's the next big thing in galactic real estate! And I know a thing or two about that market."

For your part, you still have no idea where he's going with this. You were expecting him to start talking about black holes as a metaphor for selfishness since they take and give nothing back, or something. "I... guess it is a pretty impressive thought? A little out of my league, maybe."

"As I keep telling your mom, Amelia - brilliant administrator and a wonderful lady, she is, but a little bit of a negative nancy sometimes - half the problem is branding. 'Black hole' sounds like something you might fall into. I'm tryin' to get the ball rolling on legislation to formally re-designate them as 'Cozy Stars'. They're nature's garbage disposals! And don't get me started on the power generation potential-"

An annoyed groan comes from Vincent's direction. The freckled tomboy is rolling her eyes so dramatically that she puts her entire head into it. "Uuuuugh, not the 'Cozy Stars' thing again. I'm not in the mood for this crap right now. Greatpop, do you think you could start with the important part before you start pitching crazy ideas at Amanda's corpo friend?"

"I'll tell you what's crazy, little Firecracker - the dang aliens taking over the galaxy! If we don't start setting our sights higher and finding new frontiers to settle, we're all gonna be speaking insectoid one of these days!" Buck's deep voice is deeply earnest.

"Greatpop! Goddamn it!" Vincent waves her hands in exasperation. "I've told you, you aren't allowed to use that word anymore!" she pauses, and glances back at you. "And never fucking mind that, anyway! THIS is the space captain I was telling you about! She came to Oxwood just a few month after I started my freshman year, and... stuff happened, and because she didn't bother being careful, I'm having to go on maternity leave instead of starting my sophomore year! This is her baby!" she pokes her rounded, protruding abdomen with one finger, just above her exposed belly button.

"So, go on already!" Vincent says in an aggrieved voice. "Didn't you tell me 'I'd like to catch up with that philandering futa and settle accounts with her one of these days' right after mom and dad told you about it?"

"Mmm. You always were a straight talker, darling." Buck nods to Vincent. "I was tryin' to be polite to the guest that Captain Taffers here roped into coming along by talking a little business first. But I reckon we ought to address the elephant in the room, first." his voice takes on a deeper and more grave tone. "Captain Taffers. May I call you Amanda?"

"S-sure..." you squeak back in a small voice. There's a sort of unspoken rule in galactic society that the rules of chivalry, such as they are, still apply to futas. But somehow you suspect that won't be enough in a situation like this. You are starting to surreptitiously glance at the exits and wonder if you're about to have to run for it.

"Amanda." Buck continues, leaning forward on his elbows. "I hear tell that you're the one who took advantage of my eldest great grandchild and got her pregnant, without even a hint of a marraige or commitment. Now be straight with me, Amanda - is that God's honest truth?"

"Um..." your throat is feeling very dry and you start to wish you had taken a sip of that fancy mixed drink when you had the chance. "Technically, yes, but-"

"Wonderful!" Buck's voice booms out so suddenly it makes you jump in your seat. The old man lunges across the table and grabs your delicate hand in his two callused palms and gives it another excessively strong squeeze. "Allow me to shake your hand, Captain! Let's start with a toast to this here momentous occasion!"

Mouth dropping open, Vincent's face is in a state of shock no less profound than yours. It is immediately clear that that wasn't at all what she expected Buck to say. "What? WHAT? Void damn it, greatpop, are you telling jokes in a situation like this? Seriously?"

"Vivi!" Margie, the grand old dame in the polka dot dress, waves her finger chidingly again. "Language!"

"The survival of the species ain't no joke, Little Firecracker." Buck says sternly to Vincent. "Hasn't your daddy been teaching you what will happen if let that..." he glances around nervously, wary of the new politically correct climate very different from his youth a century or so ago, and lowers his voice so other tables won't hear the next few words, "...bug-eyed space slime outbreed us and take over all the habitable planets? We've all got to do our parts. And I'm very proud of you for getting such an early start on yours." He turns and tips his hat slightly, giving you a wink. "...and the fact that I had a friendly little wager going with a shuttle-racing buddy of mine about which one of us would become a great-great granddaddy first doesn't hurt, neither!"

You hear a noisy gulping sound. Marisol seems like she wasn't ready for this rollercoaster and has plucked the straw out of her fruit drink and started guzzling the whole thing down.

Getting over the initial shock, Vincent pinches the bridge of her adorable freckled nose between her finger and her thumb silently. "Forget what I said. Very funny joke, greatpop. Because it is a joke. Right? Please tell me you're joking."

Buck is chuckling mirthfully and pulling his wife's seat closer to him, putting an arm over her and giving her a little kiss on the lips. "Well now, it is a little bit funny for both of us. I'll admit, Firecracker, I was hoping to give you a little nudge in the right direction when I pointed you at that scholarship to Oxwood Academy, with that whole gender-identity loophole fiddle-faddle. As I recall saying, put Vincent around some red-blooded boys her age and I'm sure nature will take its course, as they say! I also recall my lovely wife Margie said it wasn't gonna work, since she figured Vincent didn't have much use for boys, if you know what I mean."

He looks lovingly into the blonde woman's eyes and smiles warmly. "I also recall her saying that I had a snowball's chance in a supernova of winning that wager, since all of our seven grandchildren except Vincent's daddy got lured into lives of childless dissipation back in the core worlds before we moved out here to the frontier, where the simple virtues are still alive. Thank God Tom had his head screwed on straight, and raised his kids to think about the future of humanity, too! Even though my shuttle buddy had himself forty one great grandkids to my seven, thanks to Vincent here, I'm about to be an even greater grandfather than I already was!"

"Let me remind you, mister," Margie says with a playful titter as she lightly slaps his chest, "I got the first half right, since it was a futa who went and made our dear Vivi a mother! You just got lucky that a futa with the right stuff to appeal to her just happened to visit at the right time."

"No! No, you didn't 'get the first half right', great-ma!" Vincent sputters in adorable disbelief. "I do like guys! Futas are disgusting! Amanda manipulated me into letting her fuck me!"

For the first time in a while, you break into the conversation yourself. "Now now, Vincent. Be truthful. You were the one who made me the offer."

Vincent wrinkles her nose at you. To her credit, she doesn't lie and say otherwise. "Yeah, whatever, you knew exactly where that situation was going from the beginning. I know for a fact that you got me pregnant on purpose, Amanda. Don't try to deny it."

A glimmer of curiosity in his eye, the eccentric real estate magnate at the other end of the table, Buck, looks at you expectantly, listening for your answer.

You take a deep breath and lean forward, giving Buck a good view of your cleavage as you do, and winking back at him. "I do deny it. Partly. Believe it or not, Vincent, I had a very good reason not to knock you up on that particular day, and I'm going to be paying the price for it in a few years." you turn to Buck. "But - and I hope you'll pardon my language, sir - when I was balls deep in your great granddaughter's hot, barely-legal pussy, railing her from behind, it was like every strand of DNA in my body was speaking in unison and begging me to paint her cervix with potent futa cum."

A furious blush is rising in Vincent's face as she is left at a loss for wards. Margie, her great grandmother, starts laughing again. "Ohhhh my goodness gracious! I just know the other guests are staring! Buck, I think our great great granddaughter is going to have quite a dirty mouth on her when she grows up. She'll be a born-and-bred pottymouth on both sides, don't you figure?" Much like Buck, she isn't taking the situation seriously at all.

"Dirty? Noooo, no Margie. Choice of words aside, I'd say that was a downright beautfiul sentiment Miss Taffers here just expressed!" Buck says. He's still shaking your hand roughly, and belatedly lets go.

"But..." Vincent stammers, slowly shaking her head, "what about the importance of marriage, and chastity, and the divine sexual binary, and the rest of that shit the church teaches?"

Buck shakes his head slightly and chuckles. "Heh heh heh... Religion is important and all, my lil' Firecracker, but you don't have to make an idol out of it! In the real world, you've gotta make compromises. I ask you, what's the bigger crime against God's will - looking the other way while the occasional futa goes around sowing a few wild oats with hot-to-trot young ladies like yourself? Or letting the species stagnate and leaving all of those uninhabited planets, stars and asteroids all quiet and empty, at least until the damn dirty you-know-whats come along and get their slimy tentacles on them? God works in mysterious ways. I'm sure that's in the holy scripture somewhere...."

He pauses to take a sip of his drink. "...Even if one of those mysterious ways is having a sly fox like Amanda here running a dirty holovid studio that specializes in genuine, unsimulated baby-making."

There is a clatter as Vincent fumbles the juice drink she had been in the process of picking up, spilling the expensive beverage all over the table. "Fucking WHAT? Excuse me? She's doing WHAT?" Vincent demands in stupefied disbelief.

"Which is why," Buck continues, reaching over to attempt to ruffle Vincent's hair again before she irately shoves his hand way, "I think it's a damn fine investment opportunity. Short-sighted bean counters might see it as unprofitable, but only because they ain't got a real leader's vision. Today's unplanned pregnancies are tomorrow's consumer base! The way I see it, a hundred years from now, the real profit will be in the increased rent prices I can charge on the apartment village I'm currently constructing here on Alseid... right in the sweet spot between half a dozen of the most promising private primary schools. Which are another investment of mine, as it so happens."

"Great grandma Margie," Vincent says, balling her fists on the table, "can you please tell greatpop that he's fucking lost it, and get him some medication or psychotherapy or something?"

"Actually, Vivi..." the vivacious big-haired lady says, a blush creeping into her cheeks as well, "That last part was my suggestion... Your great grandfather and I got to talking and decided that might be just the kind of thing to get the home fires burning again.... which is why I was oh so eager to meet Miss Amanda here. So, since we've already gone and embarrassed ourselves with all this dirty talk..." Margie leans over the table and speaks to Vincent in a lower voice, "...how big is she? You know... down there, in the dingus department? Since my darling Buck was interested in it too, I was thinking on making a little movie while I'm here..."

"I'm anxious to hear about it, too. I must confess, the whole subject has got me plum flustered." Buck says with that same toothy grin he was giving you before, which in retrospect, you now realize was lascivious. "What kind of firepower are you packing under that harlot's dress, Amanda? I'd love to see the dick that left my Little Firecracker here ready to pop in action! Most especially, I'd love to see it in action with my wife. What do you say?"