Thursday morning changes

It’s a Thursday morning like any other, right up until the moment I see the black box sitting on my desk.

It was just a standard nondistinctive black cardboard box, but despite being designed to be indistinguishable, I, like every other woman in the office, knew exactly what it was, and the fact that it hid a pregnancy test inside it, the moment I saw it. I knew because I have personally delivered three of them in my career here. Once for my father, who had cummed inside a woman he had hired a little bit too much before finding out she forgot to take birth control, and twice for my uncle, who was trying to get two different girls pregnant that didn’t want to be.

Because I knew every woman in the office knew what was inside the box, I slid the box into my bag as quickly as possible. Before blotting to the bathroom.

The bathroom is mercifully empty. I lock myself in the last stall and set the box on the toilet paper dispenser. knowing what it meant, I dreaded actually taking it, but I knew if I was in the bathroom for too long, I might draw suspicion, so I quickly **** myself to take it out and piss on the stick, both hoping it would be negative because that meant I wasn’t carrying a discussing **** baby and it would be positive because it meant it was towards the end of my time being **** to fuck my father.

I stare hopelessly at the test waiting for the results. And my heart sank when I saw two pink lines… Pregnant. My father got his wish, and his grouse baby was inside me…. And not only that, but it also meant the countdown to when my brother would start trying to do the same had started. At least he didn't have to face the shame of my brother knowing who I am.

There’s no time to wallow, because I know I have already been in here for too long, and my father was expecting to see the test. So I wipe my eyes and put the test back in the box. Lucky I managed to walk out of the restroom just before Miranda walked in, fuck if she saw me with the box, she would have used it to torment me….

I head straight for my father’s office. I didn’t want to risk getting discovered with the test any more than I already have. He was on his phone, which is what I had hoped for because I really didn’t want to talk to him. I mean, what could I say, “Hay, Dad, you got your perverted, disgusting wish and knock up your own daughter” … Yeah, that would have totally head my case… So I just set down the test before turning to leave, hoping I could exit before he saw it, but the moment I set it down on the desk, he hung up the phone and said, “You know it’s company policy for someone else to hand off the test to management before handing it to the male. ”

Yes, of course I fucking know that, but there was no way in hell I was going to live through the hell of embarrassment having this test passed around the office, so I just said: “Yes, but management and the male are the same person, and I just happen to be his secretary. ”

He laughs, “You got me there…” before looking up at me and saying, “Well, let's see the test.” As he reaches for the box. He picks it up, flips the lid, and smiles. “Positive?”

I say nothing. There’s nothing left in me except a dry ache and a weird, animal buzzing in my skull. Instead, I watch Dad twirl the stick between his thumb and index finger like a magician about to reveal the world’s most obvious trick. Two pink lines, bright as lipstick, shimmer at me from the test window. He holds it up, squinting, like maybe the sheer absurdity of it will make the result go away.

It doesn’t. “Well, well, well,” he purrs, tilting back in his chair so the springs in the fake-leather seat groan out a rhythm equal parts furniture and amateur porn. “Princess, you don’t know how happy this makes me.”

I stand there, arms folded across my stomach, which feels less like a part of my body and more like a crime scene. I mumbled, “What about getting your own daughter pregnant could possibly make you happy?” but I must have said it a little bit too loud because he must have heard.

My Dad sets the stick on the edge of his desk, gives it a little spin so it wobbles and nearly falls off, as he says, “first starters…”He gets up, rounding the desk so that he is face to face with me as he says, “Getting your sexy ass pregnant… so I think it’s time we celebrate that!” Then he slips both hands around my hips, grabs the waistband of my skirt, and yanks it with my panties down in one fluid motion so that I am standing in front of him naked from the waist down.

I want to protest that getting your own daughter pregnant is not something that should be celebrated, but I know it’s hopeless, so I say nothing as He lifts me onto the desk like a parcel of office supplies. I’m light, empty. My legs dangle, feet brushing the drawers, and I swear I can feel the ghosts of every woman he’s fucked here watching from the old polish and Windex haze as I fight off wondering how many of my secrets slipping where made on this very desk like the one growing inside of me.

He doesn’t waste time. He unbuttons my blouse, one button at a time, the plastic pings against my skin; the bra is next, flicked open with the flick of a thumb, exposing my tits to the recycled, climate-controlled air.

Like every time before, I want to cross my arms over my chest, but I have long learned that covering up just makes it worse, so I fight to **** my hands to stay by my side. As my dad continues, “But do you know what makes me happiest?”

I shake my head because I do not want to know.

He answers anyway. “It’s this,” he says, as he lines up the very cock that made me pregnant with my pussy. “out of the two men, how the contract says get to make you like this.” he places his hand on my belly as his cock slips inside of me, “I am the only one that gets to look at all of you, look you in the eyes and know it’s you as we celebrate!”

Halfway through his next thrust, Dad pauses. His cock twitches inside me, impatient, as if even his dick is resentful about the delay. He leans sideways, snatches the pregnancy test off the desk, and with a flourish, plunks it down on my bare stomach like he’s crowning me with a trophy.

“There,” he says, pressing it into my skin, “that’s even better.”

He uses the test as leverage, thumb pinning it above my navel, and pushes his cock in the rest of the way. The angle is sharper than usual because of the way his hand on my stomach is forcing my hips to be angled. The first thrust is a jolt that cracks through my occupied uterus and up my spine, lighting up every nerve ending I thought I’d numbed out of existence.

My body betrays me instantly, opening up for him, slick and ready and so wet I want to spit on the floor in disgust. He fucks me with the kind of slow, deep strokes that mean he’s savoring it. He wants to make it last, wants me to memorize every second, every inch.

I stare past his shoulder at the family photo on his bookshelf, the one with all four of us smiling at a Fourth of July picnic, before we knew what monsters lived inside him.

Every time he bottoms out, his hips slap the tops of my thighs with a gentle, obscene percussion. And my clit throbs every time his balls hit my ass.

I squeeze my eyes shut and count the ceiling tiles, try to distract myself, but the smell of him—cologne, sweat, the faint ammonia tang of old cum—fills my nose and keeps me here, in the moment.

He’s about to cum, I know it. His strokes get longer, slower, each one a little more possessive. He runs his other hand up my body, palm flat against my stomach just under the test, like he’s claiming his territory. I grit my teeth, willing myself not to moan, but when he pushes all the way in and holds there, the sound that escapes me is shameful and needy. He loves that. He always has.

The door to the office clicks, a tiny sound under the **** of my heartbeat.

Dad stops moving, just for a second, and I freeze, the panic so sharp I can taste metal in the back of my mouth.

My brother’s voice, just outside. “Hey, Dad, you got a minute?”

Dad keeps his hand pressed to my stomach, cock still buried inside me, and as the tension leaves his body, I feel him start to cum inside my already pregnant pussy as he calls over his shoulder, “Be right there! Just finishing up some paperwork.”

Two ropes quickly go inside of me before He pulls out of me, mid cum, allowing the rest of his first cum to splash all over my face and tits as he slides me under his desk, before taking his seat on his chair so fast that he didn’t even have time to pull up his pants. But he had to be fast because the moment he was down, my brother was already opening the door.

I can’t breathe, but the only thing I’m scared of more than suffocating is being caught. My knees are jammed between the desk’s aluminum leg and a bale of what smells like old invoices. My back is flattened to particleboard, my face mashed into the dark space under the modesty panel, thighs slick and sticky, the cum inside me leaking out in slow, shameful pulses. I’m so close to the rolling office chair that the mesh is pressed into the side of my cheek, and I can smell the chemical off gassing from years of corporate ass sweat.

The moment I hear my brother stepping toward the desk, I remember that my skirt and underwear are still on the fucking floor. They’re sprawled out directly in front of the desk, not hidden under it, not even bunched behind a trash can. Just there, out in the open. My father was in such a hurry to ‘start celebrating’ that he didn’t even throw them to the side. As a result, my brother would have to step over them just to make it to the desk. But they’re not getting them now; There is no way my brother wouldn’t notice his sister’s hand reaching out from under the desk. So I just have to hope he is clueless enough not to see them as he basically steps on them.

My brother must have notices them my father was sitting uncomfortably in his seat because he asked: “Uh, did I just interrupt you fucking someone?” From the corner of my eye, I see my worst fear come to life as he reaches down and picks up my underwear before holding it up for my dad to see.

But luckily, he must not have known they were mine because he didn’t acked odd or surprise as he just tossed them to the side as my dad laughs and he leans forward, bracing his elbows on the desk, and the sudden movement causes his cock to slap me in the face, leaving a sticky mixture of my and his fluid, a head print on my cheek, “Yeah, you caught me mid fuck… I was just celebrating.”

My brother, oblivious, just shrugs. “Celebrating what?”

Dad’s voice is thick with barely suppressed glee. “That I got her pregnant.”

My brother’s voice cracked with excitement, “You mean her… her… like the last girl on my list, right?

My father’s hand snakes down and finds the back of my head, knotting in my hair. He yanks me forward, forcing his still-hard cock into my mouth. And I taste a mixture of his cum, the same cum that not only made me, but also got me pregnant, and his old, gross skin. There isn’t a therapist alive that can make this ok.

“Yep, one and the same,” my father says, as he uses my hair to **** me to give him a blow job. “so don’t go looking under my desk… because if you find out who she is, you won’t get to do it yourself in just under a year or so…”

My brother laughs, “Ok… ok… I’ll take the hint,” he drops some papers off on my dad’s desk while making sure not to see what’s under the desk before leaving. Dad doesn’t wait even a millisecond before pulling me back up to his desk and finishing the ‘celebrate’.

My brother cracks up at that, but there’s a wariness in the sound, as if he’s not sure if it’s a joke or a threat or both. “Okay, okay, I’ll take the hint. Just needed to drop off those reports.” There’s a scrape of paper against the faux wood, and a thunk as he sets a stack of folders down.

There’s a brief silence. Then my brother says, “Damn, Dad, I’ll leave you to it then… Have fun!”

My father laughs, “Oh, you know I will.” Before my brother closes the door behind him.

Dad doesn’t wait even a millisecond before pulling me back up to his desk and finishing the ‘celebrate’.