Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 "Just Like Baking" (M/f, incest, dad/dau, unsafe, preg)

   *Insert standard disclaimer here*

   "Daddy, where do babies come from?"

   It's the sort of question I would expect a child to ask.  You can
imagine my surprise when it came out of the mouth of my fourteen-year-old
daughter!  We were just sitting around, I was reading, and she was
knitting, and she looked up and asked, like it was the most normal question
to ask.

   "Well," I said, kind of stammering.  "That's a bit of a difficult
question."

   "I have time," she responded, as though I didn't already know.  The
nearest town was an hour's drive away--and she hadn't been there in over a
decade.  I went in to town to work a lot of times, but we had enough money,
it really wasn't an issue.

   See, here's the situation: I met my wife in college, and she came from a
pretty wealthy family.  Enough that when her grandfather died, she got
enough money so that we would never have to work again.  After we got
married, we moved out into the mountains, away from everyone else, and
that's where we began to raise our beautiful daughter, Megan.

   Then, when Megan was only two, my wife was caught in a horrific
rainstorm on the mountain next to a tour bus.  She (along with our
five-month old and the tour bus) ended up half a mile down a cliff face,
with no survivors.  I was distraught: not only had I lost a wife, but also
a son.  So I raised Megan alone for the next eleven years, homeschooling
her as required (although I don't think the government believes she
exists), and she grew up taking the role of the woman around the house. 
She did the laundry from an early age, and very quickly picked up on
cooking.  Most of the day, while I was working, she would be tending her
garden (when your garden is a quarter of an acre large, it takes a long
time) or keeping the house clean.  I brought in an income not because we
really needed it, but because it was sometimes nice to actually do work,
and I would probably go crazy having to be in that house all the time.

   At this point, I'm not entirely sure if anyone in town remembers that I
have a daughter.  I never talk about her, and I think a lot of people just
assumed she died in the crash.

   Anyways, I digress.  Basically, my little girl had grown up by herself,
with me as pretty much her only human contact.  So it was no surprise that
she would ask me such questions.

   "Well?" she continued, breaking my train of thought.

   "What makes you ask such a question?"

   "I was wondering it while planting my azaleas this morning," she said
cheerfully.  "If flowers have seeds, it made me wonder about babies."

   "I see."

   She pouted a little.  "You're mad at me."

   "No, I'm just a little surprised...I guess my little girl is growing
up."

   She nodded adamantly.  "So are you going to tell me?"

   "I guess," I said, shifting in my seat.  "You see, when a man and a
woman love each other very much, they can uh...have sex...and that makes a
baby."

   I waited for her reaction, which was mostly sitting there, looking at me
with a puzzled expression.  "Just...when a man and a woman love each other,
it creates a baby?"

   "No, it's a little more complicated than that."

   "I'm old enough for complicated," she insisted.

   "Well, the man puts his penis in the woman's vagina, and after a while,
he...uhm...ejaculates in her, making her pregnant.  She carries the baby
for nine months, and then the baby is born."

   She continued to look at me, puzzled.  "What's a penis and vagina? 
Where does the woman carry the baby?  And does that mean that the babies
are actually in men?"

   I gave a deep sigh.  I knew not giving her a proper sex education was
going to catch up to me.  "Look, let's go to my bedroom...it'll be easier
to explain in there?"

   "Okay," she said, even more confused.  As for me, I still had this odd
thing about talking about this stuff in the living room.  No one except us
two had been to the place in nearly a decade, but I still didn't like the
idea of having all the open windows around us.

   So we quickly adjourned to my bedroom, where I had been sleeping all the
years since my wife's death.  Once there, I sat on the edge of the bed,
while Megan stood in front of me.

   "Here we are...now what's all that stuff you said before?"

   I gave a deep sigh.  "You know how men and women are different, right?"

   She nodded.  "I think...I'm a woman, because my breasts are big, and
you're a man, because yours aren't, right?" She cupped her breasts
innocently; they were just barely over A cup into B at this point, but she
didn't have a reference point: I made sure we didn't have TV or the
Internet.  Her own chest was all she ever knew.

   "Yes...although there are other differences between men and women."

   "Really?  Like what?"

   "Men have a penis, and women have a vagina."

   "They do?  Do I have a vagina, too?"

   "Yes, honey, you do."

   "Where is it?"

   Now, this is probably about the point where you're going: but she's 14!
Doesn't she know about this stuff yet?

   The answer is: no.  Like I said, I didn't allow us access to TV or the
Internet, or really, any of the outside world.  There was pretty much
nothing about the world she knew that I didn't tell her.  I knew she could
read; she needed to do that to cook.  There weren't a lot of books around,
and she seemed pretty disinterested in the whole thing, so I didn't bother.
It made life simpler, and she was happy cooking, gardening, and knitting,
anyways.  Why should I disrupt that?

   Back to the story.

   "It's the thing in between your legs," I said, pointing at the crotch of
her skirt.

   "The thing I pee out of?"

   "Kind of." I sighed.  "I guess I need to give you a bit of an anatomy
lesson.  Lift up your shirt."

   She lifted it up until the bottom was right under her breasts, exposing
her stomach.  "Like this?"

   "Yes." I brought my hand up, placing a finger on her stomach.  "See,
women have a lot of complicated stuff in here, what a lot of people call
their plumbing."

   "Like the pipes that bring us water?"

   "Kind of, yes.  Right here and here," I pointed at her stomach roughly
where they would be.  I was going off of memory, so I might have been a
little wrong.  "You have what are called ovaries.  They produce eggs."

   "Eggs?  Like I cook?"

   I chuckled.  "They're a little different...human eggs are like half a
baby."

   "Okay..." she said, still confused.

   "Once a month, one of the eggs from one of your ovaries starts to go
through what's called a Fallopian tube." I started to trace the arc on her
body.  "It's this tube, one for each of your ovaries, that carries the egg
to your uterus."

   "Mmhmm," she said, looking down at where my finger traced on her body.

   "Your uterus is sometimes called your womb, and it's a big pocket about
right here." I gripped at her stomach at about the place where I thought it
was.  "And it's a very important part of your plumbing.  See, an egg comes
every month, and if nothing happens to it, it turns to blood, along with
the lining of your uterus.  That's why you have a period every month:
because your uterus is getting rid of the egg, which is now dead."

   "That's horrible!" she exclaimed, then paused a moment.  "Wait, you mean
you don't have periods, too?  I thought everyone did!"

   "Nope, just women," I replied.  Yeah, that was my fault, too.  When she
had her first, I just told her how to use washcloths to catch the blood,
and didn't really talk about it much.  Just said it was normal, that it's
something people deal with, and so on and so forth.  I had no idea, though,
that she thought I had them too.  Oh well.

   "So when I bleed...it's because a baby dies?"

   "No," I corrected, moving my hand down a little.  "See, the cervix keeps
the egg for a little while first, because it waits to get fertilized.  It's
not a full baby until a daddy puts his penis in and fertilizes it...so you
don't need to worry about anything dying."

   "Okay," she replied, a little unsure.

   "Anyways.  There's a barrier of sorts under your uterus, called the
cervix.  It's what lets things in and out of your womb."

   "Like blood."

   "Yes, and like sperm.  It's what's between your uterus and your vagina."

   "But I thought my vagina was on the outside!"

   "Yes and no...see, honey, the vagina is actually a tube of sorts that a
man sticks his penis in.  The cervix protects the uterus.  There's also a
small hole near the front of your vagina that you actually pee out of."

   "Oh," she said.  "So what's a penis look like?"

   "Uhm..." I mumbled, unsure of how to describe it.

   She dropped her shirt back.  "Why don't you show me!  You have one,
right?"

   "Yes, but..."

   "Come on, you showed me on my body.  Show me on yours!" I guess she
thought I had internal plumbing, too.

   "Oh, alright," I replied, quickly shedding my pants and underwear. 
You'd better believe that at this point, I was as hard as a rock, so my
cock stood up at full attention as I sat back down.

   She just looked at it, confused.  "It's very different."

   "From you?  That's because I'm a man.  Women have most of their plumbing
inside their bodies...with men, it's all right here."

   "I see."

   "These are my testicles, or balls," I said, cupping them.  "In here, I
create little half-babies called sperm." I moved my hand up.  "This is the
shaft to my penis.  Notice how you have a tube, and I have a hard shaft to
stick inside it?  That's no accident.  A man puts his penis inside a
woman's vagina, and then they move it a lot."

   "Move it?"

   "In and out."

   "Why?"

   "It feels really good.  After a while, the sperm goes from the balls and
out this hole in the shaft, where it hits the cervix, and then into the
womb, where it hopefully hits an egg and fertilizes it."

   "And it feels good?"

   "Yes."

   She looked at me, a little puzzled.  Her glance dropped to my penis once
or twice, but she didn't seem obsessed with it.  "I still don't really
understand..."

   "Well, then, hm," I said, thinking.  "Okay, think of it this way...you
know how to bake, right?"

   "Of course!"

   "Think of your womb, your uterus...the thing here," I pointed, "As an
oven of sorts, okay?"

   "Okay..." she drawled, not quite getting it.

   "And the baby is kind of like a bread, or a bun, okay?"

   "Mmhmm."

   "Well, once a month, the special pan for making the bun goes into the
oven, but the pan's not enough to make the bun, right?"

   "Right."

   "Well, a man has the batter needed...in fact, it's sometimes called baby
batter, because it's the stuff that's put into the pan, while it's in the
oven, so that the bun--the baby--can 'bake'.  That tends to take nine
months, and during that time, you don't have any more eggs go to your
womb...I mean, you don't have to worry about bleeding once a month..."

   "Huh," she said.  "So men produce the batter for making babies, and
women have the pans and ovens for actually baking the baby...for nine
months."

   "Right."

   She looked at me, the straightest face on her cute little body, standing
there fully clothed while I sat there, raging boner clearly visible, and
spoke.  "Let's make a baby, daddy!"

   That took me a few seconds.  "What?"

   "Let's make a baby!"

   "But--"

   "You said that when a man and a woman love each other very much, they
make a baby, right?"

   "Yes, but--"

   "And you love me, right?"

   "Of course hun, but--"

   "And I love you.  And I wouldn't mind having a baby!  It sounds fun!"

   "But..." I began, but trailed off.  I mean, I knew incest was supposed
to be bad or something, and genetically, it was outright stupid.  But on
the other hand, it's not like anyone in town really believed she existed.
Hell, even the *government* didn't believe.  And I hadn't been with a woman
since my wife died.  And my beautiful daughter already was pretty much a
housewife...it wouldn't be that hard for her to also be a mother.

   The fact that I had a raging hard-on made me suddenly question what I
had learned about genetics.  Having sex with my own daughter wouldn't be
problematic, would it?  There's no way that that sort of thing could
*really* be bad, right?  Anyways, I had planned on introducing her back to
society some day...so it's not like it'd be any big deal.

   In fact, pushing my cock as far as I could into her sweet little pussy
sounded like the most wonderful thing in the world.

   "Come on daddy...let's do it.  What'd you call it, having sex?" my
little girl pleaded.

   "Okay," I said.  "But call it fucking.  Ask me to fuck you."

   "Can you fuck me, daddy?" she asked, completely innocent.  "Can you and
me make a baby?"

   "Yes...but first, you need to undress."

   "Completely?"

   "Mmhmm...and then lay on your back on the bed."

   "Okay, daddy." I stood up and quickly pulled off my shirt, and watched
as she quietly--and very industriously--got undressed, and then laid on the
bed, legs straight.

   "Spread your legs, honey," I said, and she did.  "And here's the other
thing...before I can put my penis in you, you have to get your cunt nice
and wet."

   "My cunt?"

   "It's what you should call your vagina when you want to have sex.  You
can also call it a pussy.  Just like my penis is also called a cock.  "

   "I see...how do I make my cunt wet?"

   "Rub it a little...have you ever put a finger into your pussy?"

   "No..." she admitted.  "I never thought of it."

   "Do that...finger yourself a little."

   She nodded, and brought one hand down, gingerly touching herself.  One
of her tiny fingers slowly began to burrow, disappearing into her hole. 
"It's already wet!" she exclaimed.

   I got up on my knees on the bed and looked down, where she took her
finger out.  It was already coated in cuntslime...maybe living repressed
all these years made her really horny.

   "Good," I said, positioning myself by her.  "Now I'm going to push
in...this may hurt a little."

   "Okay," she said, her hands on my shoulders.

   Slowly, I slid into her, but very quickly encountered resistance.  Her
hymen.  "Okay," I said.  "Now I need to go all the way in...if it hurts,
it'll feel good soon."

   She nodded, biting her lip, almost as though she anticipated the pain.

   So I pulled out just a bit, then thrust forward, breaking through her
cherry.  As she yelped in pain, I continued to sink into her, her cunt
opening up to accept my hard member.  Soon enough, I felt myself bottom
out. I was balls-deep in my own daughter.

   She winced slightly in pain.  "Are you okay?" I asked.

   She nodded.  "It's more uncomfortable than hurting..."

   I felt the walls of her pussy squeezing at my cock, and I knew I
wouldn't last long in my baby girl.  I pulled almost all the way out and
then thrust in, sinking all the way into her once more.  She gave a shudder
of pleasure that I felt all around my cock.  So I pulled out and thrust
again.

   Pretty soon, we had begun to build up a rhythm as I fucked her, her
tight cunt squeezing at me.

   Megan was also really getting into it, and I could tell that she was
close to her orgasm, and I wanted her to cum before I did, and I knew I
wouldn't last long.  So I decided to start talking dirty as I rammed into
her fertile cunt over and over again.  "You're coming full circle...the
same batter that made you is gonna make a baby in you, in the same bed
where you began to bake."

   "Oh wow," she said, in total pleasure.  "My own daddy is going to make a
baby in me.  You're going to put your baby batter right into my oven and
let it bake there for nine months...you're gonna put a bun in my oven.  Oh
daddy, put the baby batter I'm made out of in my over, too!  Oh daddy! 
Oh!"

   I knew that sound.  My wife had also made it when she began to cum.  And
based on the fact that my little girl was now jerking under me, pulling me
against her, her cunt milking my member, I figured she was having the first
cock-induced orgasm of her life.  Actually, knowing her, probably her first
orgasm ever.

   Just a few moments of her already-tight pussy squeezing even harder on
my cock, milking for my sperm, was enough to send me over the edge.  I
slammed as deep into my daughter as I could, feeling myself hit her cervix,
pinning her to the bed.  She couldn't have gotten away if she tried, and
the sounds of pleasure she was making indicated quite the opposite.  So I
had the full weight of my thrust into my own daughter's cunt behind me as I
began to spurt gob after gob of incestuous cum right up into her fertile
womb.

   It felt like I bombarded her cervix for an hour, pushing her as hard as
I could into the bed.  But, sadly, my own orgasm subsided, although my cock
twitched a few last spurts even as she stopped squirming underneath me.

   "Oh wow," she said as we both panted.  "That felt wonderful.  Who would
have thought making a baby could be so much fun?"

   "It's not guaranteed that you have a baby, you know," I said.

   "What?"

   "You know how sometimes the batter just doesn't rise right?"

   "Yes."

   "Sometimes the batter just doesn't 'catch' in the woman's oven."

   "Oh." She sounded so disappointed.

   "Don't worry, hun.  I can make sure that your over is well-stocked in
batter for years to come.  With a cunt as tight as yours is, I'm sure we
can make lots of babies together."

   "Oooh." That seemed to send a ripple of pleasure through her body.  "You
really want to keep putting your baby batter in my oven?"

   "Mmhmm.  Even if you get pregnant, it's always good to stay in
practice."

   She giggled a little.  "After all, the baby needs *something* to eat."

   "My own little baby oven daughter," I said lovingly.

   "I like that name.  Baby oven."

   "Good," I said, feeling my cock starting to grow hard again.  "Is my
little baby oven ready for a second helping?"
   The ripple of pleasure through her body was all the answer I needed.