My Taboo Life
Copyright© 2026 by H. Malcom Walker
Chapter 16: The Pregnancy
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 16: The Pregnancy - She lost her once. She won't lose her again. Piper spent eighteen years searching for the newborn daughter taken from her. Now she's found Amelia, eighteen, in an Arkansas trailer park, unaware the stranger watching is her flesh and blood. With a new name to go along with her large bank account, the only thing Piper lacks is conscience. Some bonds survive separation. Some loves break every rule. A dark, transgressive novel about obsession, dominance, and the terrible gravity of blood.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa Coercion Consensual Lesbian Incest Mother Daughter BDSM DomSub FemaleDom Humiliation Light Bond Spanking Analingus Masturbation Oral Sex Pregnancy Sex Toys Water Sports
Amelia ordered me to take my pregnancy test while kneeling on the bathroom floor, my legs spread, and my shaved cunt exposed and wet from her fingers. I had to hold the stick between my legs, position it in my stream, while she knelt before me, her mouth inches from my pussy, her eyes looking up at me with dominance and command.
“Pee on it,” she ordered, her voice low. “Pee on the stick while I watch. Show me if you are pregnant, slut. Show me if you are carrying my child.”
I had to focus, to relax, to let go while she watched, her breath hot against my thigh. The stream hit the stick, the heat and intimacy of the act making me blush even as arousal built. I finished and set it on the counter to wait. A few minutes later, I held it up.
Two lines.
Positive.
Then my daughter took her test. She made me kneel before her, my face close enough to smell her, to taste her if commanded. She held the stick between her legs and released, her stream hot and forceful, splashing against the plastic, her eyes on mine, her dominance absolute. She set it on the counter next to mine, both sticks sitting there, the minutes ticking by as we waited for the chemicals to work, for our fates to reveal themselves.
She was not done with me, though. Not while we waited. Not when she had me exactly where she wanted me.
“Open your mouth,” she commanded, spreading her legs wider where she sat on the toilet. “I am not finished. Drink the rest ... swallow every drop.”
I obeyed eagerly, leaning forward, pressing my mouth to her pussy, tasting the last of her urine as she released it directly onto my tongue and down my throat. She was not fully empty, and she used me as her toilet, her vessel, her drain, pissing into my mouth while I knelt on the hard bathroom tile, with my own arousal dripping down my thighs. I swallowed greedily, gulping her waste, her marking, the ultimate degradation that felt to me like the ultimate devotion.
“You are such a good toilet girl,” she purred, her hand in my hair, holding me in place. “Now lick me. Clean me with your tongue while we wait for the results. Make me come while my pee dries on that stick.”
I buried my face even deeper in her cunt, licking her with desperate abandon, tasting the lingering saltiness of her urine mixed with the sweeter taste of her arousal. She was already wet, already ready, her body responding to the power she wielded over me. I licked her clit, sucked her folds, pressed my tongue inside her, all while she sat above me on the toilet like a queen upon her throne.
“Look up at me,” she ordered, and I tilted my head back, my mouth still pressed against her, my eyes meeting hers. She smirked down at me, her possession absolute, her control total. Then she relaxed, and I felt it, a hot spurt of fresh piss hitting my tongue, my chin, my face. She was still peeing on me, in me, using me as her urinal even as I tried to continue licking her.
“Swallow,” she commanded, and I did, taking her waste into my body, feeling it slide down my throat, the warmth of her degradation filling my stomach. She did it again, a few seconds later, another squirt of hot urine directly into my mouth, laughing as I gulped it down, my eyes watering, my cunt throbbing with need.
“Such a good pee slut,” she whispered, her hand tightening in my hair. “My own mother, drinking my piss, licking my cunt, waiting to see if I have bred us both. You are disgusting. You are perfect. You are mine.”
I moaned against her, the words driving me deeper into submission, into the filthy place where I existed only for her use. I licked her harder, desperate to make her come, to give her pleasure while I wore her urine on my face, in my mouth, and in my belly.
After what felt like an eternity of worship, she reached over to the counter, picking up her stick with her free hand, holding it near my head where I could see it. Two red lines. Dark and undeniable.
“Positive,” she announced, her voice thick with triumph and arousal. “I’m pregnant, Mommy, and so are you. We’re both carrying new life, and you are on your knees drinking my piss like the filthy, perverted whore you know you are.”
She came then, her orgasm ripping through her as she held the positive test above me, her body shaking, her piss-soaked cunt clenching against my tongue, her scream echoing in the small bathroom. I drank her cum, her arousal, the last drops of her urine, all of it, everything she gave me.
The first three months brought sickness and secrecy. We told no one, kept our bodies hidden, our nausea private. But by the fourth month, we were both showing, our stomachs pushing against our clothes, our breasts heavy and tender, and our nipples darkened to a deep rose. We moved slowly, our hands constantly finding our bellies, then each other’s, verifying through touch that the life inside was real.
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