Unspoken Pleasure (erotica)
Out Of Control:(Incest/Taboo)>Ep109

"I don't understand," Christine said. All she could hear was her heartbeat. The pulsing pounding of blood as it rushed through her system. She was overwhelmed by the sickly, antiseptic stench of the exam room. The too hot touch of Dr. Pulisic's hand on her knee. How could this have happened? How was any of this possible?

"Post-tubal ligation pregnancies are rare, but they do occur. And I know your oldest daughter is on the pill, but there's a reason we always say 99% effective. 1% may not seem like much, but in the context of billions of women, it's still common enough. I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say except that I know this must be very traumatic for you.

Christine thought about the jokes she used to share with James about his unusually potent, extremely persistent sperm. After all, they'd been safe in high school, too. And it had led to three children. So, Christine was almost too familiar with this talk from a doctor when it came to her husband's cum.

Except it wasn't her husband this time, was it?

"I don't want to presume anything," Dr. Pulisic said, "Evaluating the progression of th pregnancies, I can say that both were almost certainly conceived around when your family visited me the first time. Based on everything else you've told me, I have to assume these babies are unfortunate. On a number of levels."

Christine put her hands on her middle. On her womb. She knew what it was like to carry life within her. She'd done this three times already. And now that she knew what she was looking for, she swore she could feel it there. Which was ludicrous. At most it was a clump of cells, nothing more. Call it mother's intuition, a lifetime of experience, whatever. Christine knew what she was carrying. And she knew it wasn't her husband's. Fucking Austin. Apparently unusually potent, particularly persistent sperm ran in the family.

Christine felt the tears well up and she didn't bother to hold them back. She felt Dr. Pulisic hug her. How would she tell James? Oh fuck, how would she tell Lexi?! How was she going to tell anyone?

"As a fellow doctor, I don't have to tell you the risks involved with carrying your son's child to term," Dr. Pulisic said, "If your daughter is pregnant by her father, by her brother? You aren't so far along. You still have options." Christine stiffened. She slipped out of Dr. Pulisic's hug. Wiped the tears from her cheek and sniffled them back. This display wasn't doing anything. Wasn't helping at all. She slid off the exam table and stood.

"I need to think about that," she said, "We all need to think about it."

"Of course," Dr. Pulisic said, but he looked surprised, "Talk to your family. No one will blame you for such a choice."

But Christine did blame herself. For all of it. This whole disaster had been on her hands from the beginning. She had given the family the pills. She'd begged Austin to stick his cock inside her. She'd watched, silent, as James fucked Molly, as well. Hell, even Austin and Lexi -- the two siblings had been completely responsible until she, their own mother, encouraged Austin to inseminate his sister.

She was the one who'd taken them to this doctor, who of course had done nothing. Christine had kept fucking her son, her daughter. Would James have stopped if she'd been able to control herself? She couldn't say for sure. But it certainly contributed that she continued the behavior.

And then, when it had all come out. When the family admitted they'd stopped trying to stop boinking each other and was now only aiming to get in each other's pants? It had been Christine who'd come up with that ridiculous rule: no more secrets. She'd seen it as a stopgap in the moment. A temporary hold. She recognized what it was now: implicit permission for illicit acts amongst the family.

And now that they were here? Now that they all had actual, unavoidable consequences growing in their wombs, what could she do? There was no time machine. No undo button. This is what they were.

For a moment, Christine entertained the fantasy: this would finally stop them. This outcome, this miserable inescapable result of their perverse natures, would finally be the end of the family fucking.

Christine knew it was a lie. They were in this now, forever. Tied to it, anchored. And like that metaphorical object, they would all sink, inexorably, to the bottom. Nor would drowning in this misery even grant them the peaceful reward of death. The Campbell family was going to have to live this life they'd created, breath by excruciating breath. There were no outs anymore. No escapes.

Christine left Dr. Pulisic's office, robotic. She found the family in the waiting room. They smiled up at her warmly. Even Molly looked on her mom with a loving kindness. It only made Christine feel worse.

They all piled into the car and drove home. The kids were singing some pop tune in the back. James joined in, as well. The family SUV jaunted along past palatial homes and perfectly manicured lawns. The safe haven of suburbia that Christine had bought into so fully.

Before the camping trip, Christine fully believed that she lived in a good place with a fair God who loved her. Not because she was one of His flock, His children. But because she deserved God's love. Earned it.

Christine worked hard. She went to school, raised a family, made good money. She lived in a big house in a good neighborhood. She built her body into a monument to perfection. She ate right, worked out, and never did drugs or even drank alcohol.

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The family took wholesome vacations to Yellowstone and Disney. She voted with her conscience, gave to charity, volunteered at the kids' schools. Raised smart children with good morals. Paid for them to go to college and start wholesome lives of their own.

In other words, Christine followed the rules. She lived the way everyone said to. So, of course, she would win.

Only now, as she watched the world roll by, she realized it was all a lie.

You could be a criminal and still be a CEO. You could rape and murder and win humanitarian awards. You could cheat and steal and live in one of those white picket-fenced homes. None of it fucking mattered. There was no eternal reward. You would not reap what you sowed. You could do everything right and end up with a pile of shit.

You could be the best person possible, and then take one stupid pill and wake up pregnant with your own grandson. With your daughter knocked up by her own brother. With your whole world fucking shattered. And for what?

Fate had taken a giant crap on Christine's head. God had abandoned her. The universe had screwed her over. She lived life exactly right and life had turned around and told her to fuck off.