The following weeks

The following week, Dad starts the new policy: Every woman on my brother’s list is required to take a pregnancy test once a week, until it is positive, no exceptions. Guess who gets the honor of hand-delivering them? Not the legal team, not HR, not even some mailroom lackey. No, it’s me, his secretary, and the person he fucking bred, making the rounds with the dreaded little black boxes.

Bianca is the first to complain. “Do you really have to drop these off at our desk now, in front of everyone?” she hisses, face flaming as I slide the box across her monitor. “I mean, come on… I dropped yours before business hours while everyone was out.”

I whisper, “Sorry, this is when he gave them to me… I’ll see if I can let him give me the batch earlier next time.”

Annabella, who clearly hasn’t read Dad’s new policy, who sits next to Bianca and is the next person on my route, clutches her box with two fingers like it’s a diseased rat. “Next time? There is a next time?!”

I want to say: Yes, there’s going to be a next time, and a next, and a next, until your pee shows two little pink lines and everyone in this hellhole knows exactly who knocked you up. But I just smile, nod, and move on.

Meanwhile, Miranda, the last woman on my list, I knew she was going to be difficult because she hates me, but what I didn’t know was that she was going to be THIS difficult. She refuses to come within 10 feet of me, telling everyone that she ran into that I somehow planned this, as a result, I couldn’t drop it off for her. The argument with her got so bad that my dad had to come out of his office and get involved by telling them that taking these tests was implied when they agreed, and the punishment for not following through with the agreement would be a lot worse. Only then did Miranda reluctantly take the test. But not from me. I had to set it on the floor and walk away before she would pick it up.

To make matters worse, I was the person who had to pick the test up to turn them into my father. Every week, I would make a round drop off six tests, wait thirty minutes, while each woman made her own trip to the bathroom, before making another round to pick up six finished tests and take them to my dad for him to see the results, after which he would tell my brother the results.

By the third week, the results start coming back positive. The first one is Bianca’s. I could tell in her eyes as she handed me the box with the test in it that it was positive; she must have known because she gave me a half smile and said, “Well, it looks like you won’t be needing to drop off a test to me next week…”

I just gave her a nod before moving to pick up Annabella’s test.

The tests are so public that, much to the displeasure of the women involved, the men of the office begin to bet on who the next positive test will come from. At first, it’s just dumb jokes and locker-room banter, but then someone tapes a huge whiteboard to the breakroom wall, “Pregnancy Pool” scrawled at the top in red Sharpie. Below were all six women’s names, their pregnancy status, and the current bids. If that wasn’t bad enough, next to the bids was any useful information that could help someone make the bids. Useful information, like when the last time my brother fucked them, and how much cum they think went inside, someone even managed to guess a woman’s cycle perfectly. Nothing was off limits.

Of course, every woman wants to rip it down, but Dad loves it. He claims it’s great for morale. The only thing that eventually stops the bids is when, eventually, five of the six women end up with pregnant next to their names.

As for me, my own belly grows faster than I wished. The first time I catch my reflection in the glass doors and notice the baby pump, I almost faint. But still, my dad made me go to work where he would demand more and more ‘celebrations’. IE pounding me over the same desk, belly and all, with his hands digging into my swelling hips. He always finishes inside me. Not that it could do anything more, but it still grosses me out to have my father’s cum leaking in my underwear as I left his office.

One morning, as I’m standing by the printer, trying to staple a pointless report, my brother walks in, takes one look at me, and does a double-take. “Come on, sis, I know we are busy, but at least make time to go for a run or something, and maybe cut back on the sweets because you are getting a belly there,” he says.

The words hit me like a slap, but I do my best to give him the impression that I ignored him. At least he thought it was fat, not his niece or nephew/ slipping growing inside. His knowing the truth would be worse.

Only after my father heard what my brother said did he finally move me into an apartment down the road and allow me to stop coming into work. That’s where he hid me so he could still fuck my pregnant body while telling my brother he put me on a project overseas. During my time away, my dad tells me that my brother got the sixth girl on the list pregnant.