Melanie's Bout of Baby Fever

Disclaimer: This is a sexual fantasy story involving first-degree father-daughter incestuous impregnation. This doesn't condone or endorse the practice for real or the risks involved. If the topics of incest or impregnation bother you, you might want to move on to another story. For those that remain, thank you. I hope you enjoy it!

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For a while there, I felt like I was living the life. I had a really great job, a really great wife, and a daughter that meant the world to me. There was a two decade sweet spot there. From the whirlwind of my romance to what I assumed was the love of my life. To the coming onslaught of our daughter's birth. We raised her together as a team.

I made a real effort to not be like my own dad. He divorced my mom when I was two. Floated in and out of my life for a few years until he just upped and moved away. As my mom put it, "You can't get blood from a stone." So we let him be, but it certainly reinforced that when I became a dad, I sure the hell would hold on for all I was worth.

In retrospect, I think that's what the issue really was. My now ex-wife, Natalie, wanted a child too, sure. But I don't think she was prepared for how much I would embrace the role of dad. When we had Melanie, I rolled up my sleeves and went full dad mode. Made my daughter my new purpose in life. Whether it be changing diapers, arranging play dates, calling babysitters, it never felt like a chore. I wanted the best for our girl, and I like to think we did a bang up job.

To me, Natalie and I were tight. We were both on "Team Mel". Navigating dance and sports practice schedules with ease. Other people always complimented us on how well we held it together, even under stress. And as supportive as I tried to be, I guess it did start blinding me after a while. Melanie had my sarcasm and sense of humor. As she got into her teens, it made us even more thick as thieves. I was good cop to my wife's bad cop. I didn't think anything of it.

Melanie turned out to be quite bright, and my nerdy tendencies just gelled with her more. By roughly 14, she and I had our own sort of secret vernacular made up largely of video game and silly movie references. My wife started to feel isolated and left out. I can't say I blame her, but in the moment, I just saw it as our normal.

Mellie got accepted to a college with a really nice scholarship. And after some awkward attempts to reconnect, my wife and I split up. She only kept us together for our daughter's sake. It was largely amicable. I mean, as good as the dissolution of a 20 year marriage can feel. I loved Natalie, still do. But I think we both know she would never be happy if she stayed with me. I didn't fight it. I knew the signs that she had made up her mind long ago. And with Melanie off at college, my so-called "normal" was turned upside down. Here I was in my mid-40's and alone for the first time in my life.

Natalie found someone pretty quickly. I had some pangs of jealousy, but I really was glad she did. She moved with her new beau a few years later after Melanie graduated. For Mel's part, she did pretty well. Got a nice tech job like her ol' man and was off to the races. She still visited regularly, bless her. I think she was lonely too. Because while admittedly I never really asked all that much, I got the feeling she didn't date or even like dating. That's not to say she didn't date at all, but I think she was running to the problem a lot of women in IT have. Either she's outright shunned for interfering with the "boy's club" mentality or she's looked upon as eye candy to make the place prettier. Not really seen for her tech skills or what she can bring to the team. She learned to wear tough skin and keep people at arms length largely for her own protection.

I think that's why she liked coming over. I felt normal to her. Whether it be grabbing dinner after a long day or hopping online for a game or two. We kept up our daddy/daughter movie dates like we used to. It was different now because the movies could be a bit more adult. I mean, I showed her some fun action flicks that weren't always appropriate when she was a teen. Movies with foul language and some mild sexuality here and there. But it's one thing to do that in your own living room. It's another to see massive tits up on the silver screen while she's sitting next to me in a theater in public. It's not even about the turn on aspect of it all. It wasn't really all that arousing. But it did make for some fun and awkward conversations afterward. "Did you see the tits on that one, Dad?" she'd say as we were leaving. Out loud, of course, so others could hear.

But it kinda worked for us too. Instead of just avoiding the topic, our sense of humor kicked in and we started to embrace the cringey aspects. It kind of became a sport for us in some ways. Taking in some of those fun indie movies that got into some gratuitous territory, then laughing about it later. It's not like I could say she wasn't old enough for it. She was mid-20's. Had a decent job with some very real prospects for advancement. And she liked seeing movies with her father that were perhaps of suspect taste to many. We learned not to question it. I knew that when Natalie remarried, apparently Mel wasn't a big fan. Her mom was in another state outright. I assumed she called her from time to time. Though she never mentioned her mom around me, and I never asked. In a lot of ways, I was my daughter's best friend. And she was mine. I was just proud she still found me relevant in her life.

Turns out I would become even more relevant. COVID hit. And like it did with so many places, her job was trimmed as a "necessary cut". She moved back in with me. I had sized down when we sold the old house in the divorce, but I still had plenty of space. And being honest, having her in my bubble probably saved my own damn sanity... and hers. She was depressed after losing her job, apartment, and livelihood, but I had her back. Always would, and she knew it.

Things got pretty loose in our home. Not all porny or anything, but there was a casualness that organically just started. She let me know I was in her safe "no bra" group. I'd routinely wear my loose sleep or workout pants around the house which didn't exactly hide things on my end. She didn't help by exclusively wearing tights and yoga pants which had a way of hiding her hips and ass in ways that, well, didn't hide her hips and ass. At least the shape anyway. Thankfully, visible panty lines felt like a relief to see.

We'd vege out together on the couch like that. Her feet in my lap getting the casual rub. And given that we weren't nearly as active physically as we used to be, things like scents and smells became a bit more apparent. That mix of sweat and her sex sometimes would be kinda obvious to me. I'm sure my musk was to her. Not that we didn't shower or clean ourselves, just the usual cadence slowed down a bit during those heady days of lockdown. I was sure she masturbated. I know I did too. But there was an irony there. While we still talked blatantly about movie breasts or asses or even penises we'd see on screen in some cases, our own personal wants weren't ever really brought to light.

She did apply for other jobs and unemployment, but she was still pretty green. She took on a few work-from-home contracts. Nothing really stuck. Even as things started turning around jobs were coming back, her lack of experience was suddenly working against her. If anything, I'd think they'd want her. She's a catch being so raw and eager. But the best she could muster was fits and starts. And not for lack of trying. The companies that were interested tried to low ball her salary. And the few interviews she thought she rocked never called back. Contracting did help, but most of the income from that went to leftover school loans, insurance, and other benefits many take for granted. It had her downright depressed. I felt for her and gave her all the support I could. My salary provided enough for us both, especially after Natalie remarried. I even gave Melanie a decent stipend to get some things she needed. My way of giving her some privacy. I really didn't mind. But inside, she did.

Then came the night of her 29th birthday. Not 30 yet, but the age was starting to knock about in her head. I took her out for some drinks and a nice dinner. Took in a movie together as well. We were toying with going dancing afterwards, but I think both of us just wanted to get back home. Instead we just went home and drank some more. Put some music on and just enjoyed each other's company. I gave her one of my patented foot rubs and I think the alcohol started to compound the feelings within her. Her foot started sliding in my lap and stroking my forming erection through my jeans. I froze in place, confused.

I stopped her and she just started crying. She was sobbing hard and sat up, having one of those messy cries. I put out my arms for her and held her to my chest. I knew she was down, but damn if she hadn't hid a lot of it well from me. Broke my heart to see her like this. All I could do was try to make her feel safe in my arms for a bit and let her let it all out. And boy, did she. That's when the "real talk" started. She talked about how horny she got and felt all the time. She talked about how demeaning it felt to use her "allowance from dad" to buy a vibrator. She talked about how she thought she was set after college. Enjoyed her job and her apartment and her freedom. I told her I hoped she felt free in our home to do whatever she wanted, and that got me an earful about being able to walk naked and how she hated panties. Then she mentioned how she was frustrated that she hasn't dated, and that she was really feeling like time was running out for her. Turning 30 next year, she felt like she had nothing to show for her life. All that seemed like a lot that was weighing her down, but that last part was really at the brunt of it. "Time is running out for what?", I asked. She said she wanted a baby.

That took me some time to grasp. I never really saw her as the baby type, but it kind of stung in a way to hear. I saw her as a grown woman, sure. This was her declaring to me what that meant. It was another reminder that while we shared a lot with each other, we didn't share some of the things that were closest to our heart. I held her tight and kissed her cheek, telling her that I thought she was beautiful and know she'll make an awesome mom when the time comes. And that I'd be there for her when it does happen no matter what. A mix of emotions crossed her face, and instead of hearing what I had intended as a complement about her maternal instincts and the support of a loving father, she heard it as a her father saying he was willing to make her a mother.

She wiped away the tear and smiled wide, leaning up and pulling my head to her lips and kissing me like she's never kissed me before. I was stunned. Not expecting it. "Whoa... whoa...", I tried in vein to protest. But she just said, "Yes... yes daddy... Yes I wanna have your baby! That would mean the world to me! It would be so perfect!" Before I could stop her, she was unzipping my jeans and pulling my cock out, which I'm sad to say was betraying me, still being hard despite all this mess. She already had her lips on it by the time I managed to get my ass off the couch and stand up.

"That's not what I meant!" I put my cock back into my pants and just left her be for the night, with one last "Happy Birthday, Melanie" in a weak attempt to prove there was no hard feelings. I knew she was drunk and emotional, and this wasn't right. I went to my room and tried to put it all behind me. Attempts were made to get some sleep, but it wasn't going to happen. The first lips on my cock in years, and they wind up being my daughters. That should disgust me, but it's not like I just whipped it out on her. She really wanted it. Needed it even. She was really spiraling though, and it really cut my heart to see it.

My mind raced, and sleep was elusive. And, to make matters worse, I don't think I've had an erection that stayed this hard and full... well... ever. It was trying to tell me something I wasn't ready to hear yet. Instead, what I did hear was whimpering coming from down the hall. At first I thought Melanie was still crying. I got up, figuring maybe I could still help while not making things worse. The door to her room was mostly closed, but not completely. I heard the unmistakable moans that told me she wasn't crying at all. The light whirr of her vibrator cut through the night as did the scent of her sex that clung thick to every stuttered breath I took. I guess this is one of those freedoms she was mentioning earlier. The moans became even more frenzied, and then it happened. I heard my daughter shake and cum. And more to the point, call out "Daddy" while she did.

I didn't move. I wanted to go to the door and answer my girl's call. I didn't know what I'd see if I did. I also knew that if I did see her, I'd probably do something I'd regret. Not like this. Not when she's down. Not when's he's drunk. I love her too much. I willed myself back to my room and closed the door. I took my cock in my hand and jerked off like I used to do as a teen. My mind replaying the night in my head and picturing if I'd had the courage to give her what she desperately seemed to want. I came hard. Made a damn mess all over myself, but I was so exhausted, emotionally and physically. I couldn't even bother to clean myself up before drifting off to sleep hard.

The next few days were tense. She knew she had crossed a line. So in our usual way, she started to press buttons and hammer home the awkwardness. She knew it was a bad idea that came out when she was drunk, so it became a joke with her. I'd come into the kitchen in the morning and she'd be like, "Good morning, Daddy! I think today would be a good day to make a baby with me." It would be so sudden that I would usually lose some orange juice with a snort or two. It was still shocking to hear, but it at least gave me comfort that she was trying to deal with things. I just wished that like with her comments that drew startled looks at the movies, I could be in on the joke instead of the butt of it.

The thing that didn't quite go so well was that she seemed to somehow find a way to be even more casual at home. She'd wear tees and tights like she used to, but the panty lines that used to proclaim some modesty were a thing of the past. I could see stains in the gussets, and she made no move to hide it if we were hanging out on the couch like usual. Her scents became even more pervasive, to the point she had me shifting about in my seat quite a bit. She knew it too. During a movie, some girl's breasts came on the screen during a shower, and she just said, "Mine are way bigger. Wanna see?" She had that devilish smile and lifted her hands up to cup her tits through her shirt as if to show me, but never did. I tried to laugh it off, but her foot just tapped my bulge and jokingly shamed me, "Naughty daddy. I could help you with that if you'd just give me a baby, you know!" I told her to just shut up and we went back to watching the so-called inferior tits on the screen. She didn't bring it up again. Still, she kept smiling every time she'd see my eyes wandering from the screen back to her.

A couple weeks went by like that. She would flirt and tease me, but always on that line. I knew how she really felt. She was lonely, and I was the only man in her life. She had desires and wants and needs. I did too. But we both knew the only way out was through, and if it helped her to feel sexy by teasing her daddy, so be it. At least I knew we both were getting some good masturbation material out of it. Part of me really did feel like a teen again. Having a younger woman basically begging for my cock stroked the hell out of my ego. That the girl was my daughter and she was talking about pregnancy just made things... complex.

She was standing in the kitchen one morning washing dishes by the sink. She had on those tights of hers again. Her ass just shaking rather lewdly as she worked the grease off a plate. Her top was smaller than usual too. Showed off her belly and was pushed out from her breasts. I had to admit, she looked incredible. Better than even her mom did at that age, and I thought her mom was beautiful. Then I caught the scent. It was that arousal scent again, but something more. Right there in the air even over the power of the lemon dish soap. Something was different. I couldn't quite place it.

She must have heard me standing there staring at her ass because she gave it a wiggle and said, "You know, Daddy, my ass can do a lot more for you than just wiggle." She kept at the dishes and gave that smile of hers not looking back but acknowledging me all the same. Probably because I was still a bit tired and waking up, I didn't even really think. Just head over to the fridge and snapped back with our usual banter, "It already has." Admitting my daughter's ass gave me a boner wasn't how I imagined the day starting off. She just smiled and hummed and said, "Shame you can't put it to use. I'm fertile today."

Holy shit. I spun around and looked at her again. Part of me just naturally assumed that was what I was smelling on her. Hell, it made me even more aroused to think about, even despite myself. But I knew it was likely just my imagination running wild. I probably just picked up how happy she seemed to be despite everything. It's not like the depression lifted exactly, but the girl I raised and loved seemed like she was coming back. The smiles have been more genuine lately, and all because she was having fun teasing her ol' man for sport.

Still, her words hung in the air as I took them in. She was fertile today. She kept joking about it, but this didn't seem like something she was saying just to push my buttons. She meant it. I knew full well that innate need didn't just go away. Her moan from that night when she came echoed in my head. Yeah, I could chalk it up to a silly fantasy, but I knew her better than that. She still wanted to be a mom, and she wanted me to give it to her. She could cut someone with words when she wanted. I was legitimately scared the recent good-natured teasing could turn brutal if we didn't confront it.

I took a deep breath and looked at her. Really looked at her. Then I let out everything that had been reeling in my own mind in the form of an incredibly stupid question, "So if I agree to give you a baby, who is going to be your Lamaze coach?" She started laughing, and put down the dishes and washed her hands off. She turned to face me and looked at me, trying to see if I was messing with her back or really starting to take her seriously. Leaning against the counter and staring at me like I was at her.

I continued. "What do we tell your mom about whose it is? She'll be a grandmom and want to be involved. What about all the very real chances for issues and defects since you know, I'm your dad and all? Who is going to pay for their college or am I going to have to start upping my savings and retirement fund contributions? What about childcare and diapers and all those other expenses since your job situation isn't exactly stable at the moment? Are you planning on doing one of those silly gender reveal parties? This isn't exactly legal, you know? Would I be the daddy or the grandpa? And you, would you be a mom or sister? And do you promise not to become one of those vicious Dance Moms? Because I don't think I can deal with them again. Fuckin' witches, the lot of them!"

I basically poured out a stream-of-conscious series of questions and concerns that had me freaking out for the last few week. To her credit, she just smiled and took it all in. She let me go on and on. Get it all out and off my chest. She didn't answer anything, but she knew that would happen in time. When I stopped going on about... something, something, "Halloween costumes" and finally took a breath, she stepped forward and approached me. She leaned her head up and gave me a kiss on my cheek. That shut me up, but I just looked at her. Feeling almost exhausted again even after just having woken up.