A flash story inspired by comments from bobby_31111 and stu7663, for which my thanks and acknowledgments.

It was three weeks since I’d first fucked my 42-year-old Mom, and she’d taken the decision that the diaphragm and spermicide that had so far protected her from conceiving as a result of the sex parties was now insufficient.

Doctor Carol had scheduled Mom’s tubal ligation op Wednesday morning; we all rode in to the hospital with her at seven to support her. She spent pretty much the whole journey bitching about not being allowed to eat or drink for twelve hours before the anesthetic, but she was pleased to be getting it done.

Dad had debated about whether to stay in her room and wait; as we were all in his SUV, he ended up coming home to await the call from Carol.

Dad paced the floor at home until the phone rang; he snatched it up, listened, and then sat down hard on the couch, white faced.

Sis grabbed the phone from Dad’s limp hand, and identified herself. Her face too grew grim, and she signed off with a curt “We’ll be straight down.”

“What is it, Laura? Is Mom okay?”

She shook her head.

“They didn’t do the procedure. They did a test and discovered that she’s already pregnant. They’ve had to sedate her.”

“Oh shit!”

Dad was in bits, so I drove. We went in to collect Mom; she had a real haunted look and didn’t say anything at all as the nurses put her in a wheelchair and we rolled her out to the SUV. When we got home, I carried her up to her bedroom, where Dad stayed with her.

Sis and I talked downstairs.

“There’s no way she’ll go for a termination, Mike. She’s pro-choice on contraception, but strongly pro-life on abortion. Looks like we’re going to have ourselves a sibling young enough to be our child.”

“Jeez, Laura, that’s really going to mess her up. And with Dad firing blanks for the last twelve years, I sure don’t reckon it’s his. It might even be mine.”

Doctor Carol came over an hour later, and went up to see Mom. She was with them for twenty minutes, then came down and had a coffee with us in the kitchen.

“I just don’t understand it. I fitted that diaphragm myself, and it’s worked perfectly for years. Unless she did something crazy like forgetting to insert it at the party, or using lubricant instead of spermicide, there’s no way it should have failed. Besides, most of the guys at the parties have already had their kids and gotten vasectomies. There aren’t many choices for the father, and no way is it your Dad.”

“How far along is she?”

“Oh, only just detectable. A home pregnancy kit wouldn’t have picked it up. Say two-three weeks?”

I coughed nervously.

“It might have been me the weekend before the party, or someone at the party. I know she fucked her usual young stud that night, so it could well be his. I guess we won’t be able to tell until it’s born and we can test the DNA?”

“No, at her age I’ll probably want to do an amniocentesis test, just to check for possible problems. Do you know who the other guy is?”

“I’m real sorry, Carol, yes, I do know who he is. She told us that she’s been training up your son George.”