Who's Your Daddy

Those thoughts I'm having are taking a turn: my shock fades quickly. It's like surprise was the reaction I had to have in the rush of the moment. It was the inevitable moment of recognition and fear that my belly is bulging because of a baby.

But as I sit with that knowledge, I'm not upset about it.

"Sally, honey," he says. "Oh baby, I'm so sorry."

It appears, however, that daddy is upset. "What?"

"I didn't mean to do this, Sally. Daddy's so sorry. Daddy should have never fucked you."

Which would be a lot easier to take in if, you know, his cock weren't still throbbing inside me.

"It's okay," I say.

"It's not okay. Do you know what this means?"

"It means you'll have a baby, daddy. A real one."

"Sweetie, but you--"

"I want to give you a baby." It's not a thought I've had before, but it's absolutely true now. "We all thought I was the baby that mom gave you, but I'm not. And you're such a good daddy. You should have a baby of your own."

I feel the breath of his sigh from where his head is still resting on me.

"Are you sure?" he finally asks.

"I'm sure. I love you, daddy. Of course I want to have your baby."

His hands slide; they're less on my hips now, and more on my belly.

"You're going to get so fucking big." It's so quiet that I'm not sure he meant to say it out loud.

--

All of this started because he got hard when I asked him about mom being pregnant, so I already knew my daddy liked big bellies.

Knowing and experiencing are different, though.

After we confirm my pregnancy at the doctor, it's like he can't keep his hands off of me. He's always rubbing my belly, and I'm not complaining.

Oh, and I get my wish, and my tits grow. Life lesson for you: add a few qualifiers to your wishes, otherwise you might end up knocked up or something.

I'm admiring them in the mirror when daddy walks in and smiles.

"I knew you'd fill out someday," he teases.

"All it took was some of your cum."

That makes daddy sputter into a cough. Reminding him that he was the one to make my tummy grow always does, so I keep going: "Don't look at me like that, daddy. I'm not the one who was dumping gallons of cum straight into my womb every week."

He walks forward and cups my stomach with both hands, touch gentle despite the hungry look in his eyes.

"You shouldn't tease me, sweetie," he warns.

But I'm in a good mood: excited to have curves, even more excited that they're because of the baby I'm growing.

"Or what?" I reply. "You'll make me pregnant? Oh wait, you did that already."

His hands move up to my tits, and his touch definitely isn't gentle anymore. I groan.

"Or I'll wait until you've given birth, and I'll stick my cock right in you again and make another baby. Maybe twins next, just to see how huge your tummy gets then."

All this talk -- not to mention the way he's massaging my breasts -- has got me soaking wet.

"If you're going to do that, we better practice, daddy."

--

From the front, I'm still short, and I'm still skinny. Same old Sally.

Well, if you look closely, my hips are a little wider. They probably barely count as the hips of a real woman, but they're going to serve their purpose soon anyway: they're widening so I can squeeze this baby out of me.

Let's just say I look different from the side.

How can I best describe it? Picture a ballerina, then imagine her sticking a beach ball under her leotard, and you're pretty close.

I feel gigantic already, but it seems like I'm getting bigger every day.

Maternity clothes look stupid on me, because they assume you grow other places too. You know, gain some padding in the arms, thighs. But for me, it's just my belly. Like mother, like daughter.

It's like a beacon: hey, world! I made a baby with my not-daddy!

--

Mom's never been observant, so I'm not surprised that an oversized hoodie is enough to hide my swelling.

We exchange hellos, and I avoid her hug. Given that I haven't seen her in a while -- since she finally finished packing up one day and left -- I think I have a pretty solid excuse.

Like, things would be awkward even if I hadn't been fucking her ex. But I am also doing that, so...

Anyway.

I'm just here to grab a few books I need for a class I'm taking.

(Yeah, class. This didn't stop me going to college. I switched to online classes, and I'm no longer living in the dorms, but I'm going. If I'm going to give daddy the family he deserves, I plan on pulling my weight.)

So it's all good. It's all fine.

Then I find an old high school jacket, and it's like I'm back there. It feels so long ago, that life. Childhood. Happy parents, together. The me who wore this jacket would have fainted at the thought of slurping on her daddy's cock.

I'm in the garage where my boxes are, and the door is closed, so I decide to try it on just for memory's sake. See if it'll fit now -- I doubt it will. So I pull off my hoodie.

And yeah, duh, I should have seen it coming: that's when mom walks in to check on me.

She screams and screams and screams. She runs toward me, hands outstretched like she's going to yank my belly away.

There are probably words involved in all this, but I'm too busy pulling back on my hoodie and pretending like I don't know what she's talking about to process them.

It's not my best work, mostly because I'm huge and round and so obviously, thoroughly impregnated. But what else was I going to do? Tell the truth?

--

She calls daddy, who pretends to be shocked.

"Pregnant?" he says. "Sally?"

He's a better liar than I am.

"Yes, Sally," mom says, terse. Correctly blaming him, but for all the wrong reasons.

I don't hear his reply, but mom makes a few disappointed noises before she speaks again.

"You know what? We're going to have a family dinner to discuss this."

The jacket's ugly anyway. I don't know why I even wanted to try it on, and now look where I am.

--

"I don't want to go to dinner." I'm whining like a petulant child, and I know it. It probably won't work, but it's worth a try.

"You think I do?" Daddy laughs, but it's humorless.

"Then let's not go! We don't have to!"

"Sally, sweetie..." He sighs, and I know I've lost. "She's your mom. She's worried about you. I would be too, if--"

"If what?"

"If I were her."

"That's not what you were going to say, daddy." If I have to go to this horrible dinner, I'm going to have my fun beforehand.

I cross my arms; it's kind of hard to do that now, because my arms have to go above my tummy. That does mean they push my titties up really nicely, and I see daddy stare.

I continue: "You were going to say 'if it weren't my baby,' weren't you?"

He sighs again, but there's less heart this time. It's a giving in kind of sigh. "I was not going to say that."

"I think you were," I say. "Come on, admit it. Look at me: my tummy's huge, and it's all your fault. If it weren't your baby, you'd be worried about your girl, right? But you're not, because you're secretly happy you got to be the one to pump me full of cum."

He doesn't answer. Instead, he gives me a look -- that mix of guilt and want that I haven't seen since the first night he fucked me -- and his hand reaches down to palm at the front of his pants where a bulge is starting to grow.

Ha. I was right.

--

He tells me we have to go to the dinner. It's the right thing to do.

Which... Fine, whatever. I guess we're suddenly concerned about the "right thing" now. Funny how that happens after he makes my belly swell.

But because my not-daddy's so nice, he agrees to fuck me before we go.

There are only a few positions that are comfortable for me now. This time, I get onto my knees and elbows on the couch, and he pushes into me from behind.

"Daddy," I whimper. "Harder, daddy."

"I'm trying. You're just so tight, sweetie."

"Then having your big cock in me is good practice. I'm going to have to stretch a lot for the baby." My words are interspersed with gasps.

He's got his hands on my ass cheeks, spreading them. It eases the burn of his girth a little. His balls slap loudly against me with each shove, and that's the only sound in the room for a while.

Then: "Baby, I'm close," he gasps.

"Fill me up, daddy. I want your cum dripping out of me as we talk to mom."

At that, he explodes in me.

--

This dinner is awkward as hell.

I haven't been in a room with both of them at once since, well, before all of this. And every time I had before, it was as a girl with her parents. As a family.

Now, I'm here at this table with the mother who betrayed me, and the man who had quite thoroughly impregnated me. It's a bit of a different vibe.

Mom manages to wait until after appetizers to bring it up, which is impressive.

"Well, I just hope you knew what you were doing," she blurts.

I look up: is she talking to me? She could honestly be talking to either of us, and there's something a little funny about that.

She doesn't elaborate, so I ask: "what?"

"If you're going to get yourself knocked up, I hope you at least know who the father is, for one."

I'm sure I'm making some stupid shocked face, but come on. She has no reason to think I've been sleeping around! I was never even cool enough to get asked to a dance in high school, but my mom seems to think I've suddenly become a whore.

Takes one to know one, I suppose.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remember that daddy and I decided never to tell my mom we knew about the paternity thing. Unfortunately, the front of my mind has different ideas.

"What, unlike you?"

I see daddy cringe beside me, and I feel a little guilty. Too late: I guess we're having this conversation. Whoops.

My mom, to her credit, looks adequately appalled. But... in a confused way, which is a little weird.

"And what do you mean by that?" she says, as though the accusation is a terrible one. She's a good liar, I'll give her that. Probably how she got daddy for so many years.

"Please, mom," I say. I tell her I heard her on the phone that day: I know daddy's not my father. "But you picked a great guy to con, so he's stuck by me."

She doesn't need to know what kind of sticking he's been doing lately, but I know very well. My hand absentmindedly goes to cradle my belly.

It's getting so big, and I'm so thankful. Daddy thought he had a child, but he didn't; now I get to repay my daddy for all the love he gave me growing up by giving him an actual kid of his own.

The silence drags on, and I shift slightly in my seat. I feel a little bit of daddy's seed drip out of me, and it's a little discomfiting, given the moment we're having.

"Honey, I--" Mom shakes her head. "I was talking to Shannon, my cousin. She's getting a divorce too: she and her husband have both been cheating on each other for years, and her husband recently found out that the kids aren't his."

My eyes widen. I remember Shannon, and her kids.

Mom continues: "Look, what Shannon did isn't right, but I was trying to support her. Sally, sweetie, I promise..."

She looks at me, and then at daddy. Daddy's looking at me too, intently, and I can feel his gaze burning into me.

I don't look at either of them. Instead, I look at the table as the realization of what she's saying sinks over me.

I know what this means. I don't need my mom to voice it. About nineteen years ago, my daddy stuck his cock up in a woman and made me. And a few months ago, because we both thought we weren't related at all, he stuck that very same cock up the pussy he helped make and knocked me up too.

Because the universe is having such a fun time with me lately, my mom says it anyway, of course. "We may be separating too, but I never cheated on your father and I never would. I'm positive of it, Sally: that man next to you is your dad."

I can't take this. I stand up, and I take two calm steps before basically sprinting away.

--

The first time I can remember my daddy saying he was proud of me was when I jumped into the deep end of the pool for the first time.

The most recent time was last week when his cock bottomed out inside of my pussy.

"Good girl," he had said. "You're so good at this. I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks, daddy," I had replied.

Daddy.

I stand outside mom's apartment building, staring into the street.

I still don't know when I got pregnant, but I do know that I had so many opportunities to stop before it got this far. But I didn't, and daddy didn't, and now my tummy's too big for all of my pants.

Because of my daddy. My actual daddy. My father.

Shit. I never thought I'd be carrying my dad's baby, that's for sure.

--

Eventually, daddy follows me out.

"Sweetie--"

He trails off, and that's fair. There are a lot of things he could say.

"I talked to your mom" is the one he goes with first. Mediocre choice because yeah, I assumed they weren't just sitting there in silence.

"I told her you had a condom accident with a boy from your grade that you had been secretly seeing for a while," he continues. He rubs a hand across his eyes. "And I convinced her that you're upset about, uh-- Accusing her of adultery. Unfairly."

That's one way of putting it.

Then his hand jolts out, like it's not really under his control, and lands on my tummy.

"That's our baby," I hear myself murmur.

"You're my baby," he says.

"I guess so."

"And you're okay with that? With this?"

"What am I supposed to do about it now?"

"Sally--" There's a resigned tone, and I shrug guiltily.

So I'm joking. Sue me. I'm the one who has to give birth soon, and given how big of a guy my dad is, I'm sure the baby's not going to go easy on my pussy.

"I'm okay with it," I say, serious this time. "Even when we didn't think you were my real daddy, I always thought you raised me so well. I've loved you my whole life, but it's just a different kind of love now."

Maybe getting bred by your father figure is the bigger deal. Once you pass that hurdle, it doesn't really matter if he's your real dad or not.

If I'm being totally honest, I'm a little excited. I feel connected to my mom in a way I never have before: she and I were knocked up by the same man. Our bodies both swelled for him, because of him.

I had spent so much time mourning my parents' separation, fretting over what broken pieces of a family I'd be expected to bear. But now I have a new legacy: I am to carry my father's children in my womb, as my mom had done for me.

I look at daddy finally, and his eyes are damp. I rub the top of my belly near his hand and smile: we did this, daddy.

--

My parents split everything pretty equally, so they finalize their divorce quickly.

Dad comes back from the courthouse after one of the meetings and steps behind me. He's not fully hard, but I can feel his length against my back already. His hands hold my stomach, which is as huge as it's going to get. I hope.

"Your mom said she tried to call you. She left a voicemail," he says.

"Oh, thanks."

I've actually been talking to mom a decent amount recently. Crazy, right?

We're still not friends, but we're trying a little bit. It's hard, though, when you can't tell your mom your biggest secret. But I'm due soon, and I'm sort of super excited for her to meet my baby.

"I think she's really trying, Sally."

He lifts my dress, and he inhales sharply as he discovers that I'm not wearing any panties. I hear and feel him tug down his zipper as I reach for my phone.

Being gigantic hasn't slowed me down at all: I'm still fucking daddy daily, and I plan on continuing after the baby comes. He owes me those twins, after all.

Daddy presses his cock up as I start to play the voicemail, and I shift to spread my legs open further so he can fit inside me.

"I just wanted to say I love you, darling. I hope we get to speak again soon," mom's voice says. "I've been meaning to tell you..."

He thrusts hard, and I gasp, the end rising into a moan.

"You're the best of both of us, and that's my favorite thing about you. My sweet Sally, I mean it: I absolutely love how much of your dad is in you."

I burst out laughing. Little does she know.