(c) Copyright 2014 Green Man Walking. All Rights Reserved. This story may not be reposted, redistrubited or reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. Permission is granted to redistribute the document freely, as long as this notice is attached. The author does not condone child abuse or the breaking of the law. This story is a fantasy and any resemblance of the characters to any person, living or dead, is purely a coincidence. The author may be contacted at greenmanwalking@hotmail.com. Nana Nina – A Seedling Story By Green Man Walking The first thing I was aware of, as I struggled back to consciousness, was that I was blind and I couldn't feel my legs. I tried to move my hands and I couldn't. Tried to yell, and my mouth wouldn't move. I panicked for a moment in a dark silent world, realizing I couldn't feel my body at all, couldn't see or hear or smell, couldn't press my tongue to the roof of my mouth or twitch an eyelid. The next thing I realized was that we'd stopped spinning. But that couldn't be right. The Nina was supposed to spin forever, or effectively so from my point of view. The centrifugal force kept us all nicely pinned along the habitation ring, and was supposed to do so for another 200 years. . . flight time to Epsilon Eridani. But I was weightless, so we must have stopped. “Think Abby,” I said to myself as my brain stumbled between panic and confusion. Thinking turned out to be surprisingly easy, in fact easier then it had ever been. My thoughts were operating at lightning speed and with an utterly alien crystal clarity. Must be adrenaline. What could have happened? The memory was fresh and raw. The smell of burning flesh and metal, utterly wrong and dangerous on the seed pod. The sound of alarms and of a voice (my mother's?) screaming, crying out in terror. Screaming my name. Pain. Fear. The burning flesh. It was me! My body. Burning. Why? Then the feel of gale force wind on me, the first strong wind I'd felt in my near adult life, bringing back vague childhood memories of standing on a bridge overlooking the sea. Except those memories weren't so vague. My mind called them up with holographic clarity, recalling not with the fogginess of normal human thought but as fast and bright as if I'd queried a record from the seed pod's central database. Well, that was odd. Time dragged on, I drifted in darkness, a disembodied consciousness. There was nothing and I had nothing but memories. Anton's angry face as he argued with my mother. The feeling of sweat on my body as Elizabeth pushed the plasma cutter against my back. The pressure doors opening. Thomas, the security man shooting at Anton with a pellet gun. The smell of my own meat cooking. As the captain's daughter, I was the perfect hostage for the mutineers. They'd snatched me from school, cutting their way into the classroom, threatening Mindy Hawking in front of all the students. All 35 of us. All the children on the seed pod. Wiley Keys was only four and he started crying. I remembered picking him up, feeling responsible because I was the eldest, trying to put myself between him and Anton. But they hadn't cared about him. His parent's were electricians. Mine weren't. They'd only wanted me. But clearly the mutiny had gone horribly wrong. Mom hadn't wanted to negotiate. Of course she wouldn't want to negotiate! That went without saying. She had to think of the lives of everyone, of the mission. Not just of me, her terrified, kidnapped daughter. But I didn't know how it had ended. The meeting had been a trap, outside the control deck. Thomas had come out firing, but he missed. Elizabeth's hand tightened on the plasma cutter. My right kidney must have burned right out of me! “Think Abby,” I said to myself again. But I remembered seeing the white fire of the plasma flame, punching it's way through my body, coming out my front. Cutting up across my gut and through my spine. Feeling my legs go numb, falling as my knees gave out. Feeling the wind. Hearing the alarms. My god! I thought, Was that an outside wall? She let out all our atmo! She'd killed everyone in that corridor, mutineer, hostage and security man alike. Of course, given what that plasma beam had done to me, there was no way I hadn't been dead anyway. But then how am I here? Wherever here is. I drifted, and felt nothing but alone. * * * I heard the voice, at first faint, unable to make out the words. It was repeating something, over and over, gibberish, indecipherable. I strained, if a girl who can't feel her ears can do such a thing, to make out what it was saying, pull meaning from a looping ghostly beacon. Like a fog horn warning from a distant shore, but the fog is so think you can't tell where from, just that your ship is in danger. I recognized it as my father's voice just before it came fully into focus. “Abby, if you can hear this, make a fist. Abby if you can hear this make a fist. Abby if you can hear this make a fist.” “Well great, how am I supposed to do that?” I thought at him, somewhat petulantly, “I can't feel a thing.” But I tried and it must have worked right away because the voice shifted. “Good girl. Abby, we need to calibrate your sensory inputs. When you see the blue glow, blink twice.” I started to see something blobby. Like the spots you see if you rub your eyes hard. It shifted and moved and eventually turned blue. I couldn't feel any eyelids, but something worked again because the glow faded and my father continued. “Very good. Abby, there's no easy way to say this, so I'll just tell you. If you're listening to this message, it means I'm dead.” That hurt. I felt it in my gut, aware that I had developed a sense of having a gut just so I could feel the pain of my father's words. Dead? How. But his voice continued. “After we lost you, things got bad. You mom put the mutiny down. Spaced the lot of them. But it was too late. They warned us they'd sabotaged Hydroponics and they meant it. Genetically engineered fungus, it killed everything. It impacted life support. We couldn't refresh oxygen fast enough. More people died. And. . . there was more violence. Tod Wilkenson shot your mother. Someone hacked into the central computer and tried to seize control, but they gummed it up and crashed it. The atmo got toxic fast. Carbon dioxide and methane. I barricaded myself up in Agro-Research and managed to get an emergency life support system running full time. It helped that the fungus never got in here. “Abby, I want you to know that I love you very very much and your mother loved you very much as well. Losing you was devastating. This isn't what either of us would have wanted for you and this next part's going to be hard to hear, so I wanted to say that first. “It's been thirty years since all of that happened. I've been living in the AR lab that whole time. . . no where else is habitable. There isn't even air. I've been eating gene modded lettuce, mushrooms, tilapia and whatever else I could grow.” My mind was reeling. How could any of this be possible? I thought of poor little Wiley Keys. How helpless and vulnerable and light his body had felt in my arms. I thought of him dying in a toxic miasma of carbon dioxide as life support failed. I would have broken down and sobbed, had I possessed the correct body parts. But my father's voice continued inexorably. “Darling, one of the things I grew was you.” What now? “Maybe you can forgive me for this, maybe you can't. But there can be a second chance for you, and for the expedition. I managed to reboot the central computer remotely, but the operations partitions were totally fragged. Your brain was vacuum frozen when the mutineers breached the hull. I'm sorry darling, I recovered your head. I spent thirty years painstakingly mapping your neural pathways into the main computer. At the operating system level. The computer wasn't doing anything else anyway. I booted you up a few times, but I always got something wrong. You would be crazy, suffering, in pain. Mostly you were screaming. I could see it in your virtual neurons. Getting feedback you couldn't understand from the firmware in network devices. Missing parts of your human consciousness. Unable to process information. It wouldn't work, and I couldn't bear it, the thought of you only half conscious and suffering. Every time I've shut you off and started over. I had to learn a lot about the human brain. Things no one ever knew. You'll find all that research on the terminal in AR, which you should have access to soon. I'm sorry if you're still “not all there.” I did the best I could under the circumstances. “I got a pretty harsh dose of radiation during the system failure. I've been fighting cancers inside my own body ever since. But my body is old and it can't keep going. I'm so sorry darling. I have a brain tumor. I'm losing function and I can't do anything to stop it. I could try mapping my consciousness into the computer with you, but there isn't room in there for both of us and better you then me. But I left you a present, in AR. You'll have to figure out how to get in there and interface with it yourself. I think it should work for you. “I love you so much sweet heart. The system's going to start connecting you to ship's components now. Please be strong sweety. This isn't easy. I love you. I wish. . . I wish things had gone differently.” My father's voice stopped. I felt like I was crying, though, of course, I could no longer cry. There was a hole in myself, where my heart would be, if I'd still had a heart. I am reasonably certain, no human being in history, if I could still even be counted as human, felt as alone as I did in that moment. Then I screamed. * * * The Nina (which my father kept calling the “seed pod”), was a KBO, a cometary fragment from the outer solar system, four and a half kilometers in diameter. Mostly made of water ice and frozen hydrogen, it had been diverted by engineers from it's 900 year long orbit in the Kuiper belt, dragged to float among the asteroids between Mars and Jupiter and the habitation ring had been built around it. It had been spun up to 3/8ths G, slingshotted around the sun and undergone a year of rapid acceleration, during which time we had all been frozen solid in cryo so as not feel the affects. While we'd slept peacefully, a massive fusion engine had ignited at one end of the Nina's oblong iceball and sent us hurtling into interstellar space. 267 souls, 35 of us under the age of 16. At 15 relative years of age (not counting that year in cryo) I'd been the eldest. There were literally tens of thousands of subsystems on the seed pod. Electrical, life support, coms, sensors, navigation, power control, information processing, maintenance and dozens more. I was literally their operating system now and every single one of them was screaming error messages in my face. It was like standing on the floor of some stock exchange in hell, having ten thousand frantic brokers shouting urgent buy orders at you, if you could feel every one of them like a tiny red hot needle on your skin. This was what my father had meant by feedback from firmware. Something must have worked better this time though because no sooner did I scream (and realize that my scream had actually been sent out over the Nina's PA system) then I instinctively shut them all off. I could feel the seed pod, using brain centers that evolution had never intended for such a function, and it was in terrible pain. But I was able to distance myself from it's pain. I was even able to start exploring the systems, and, in some places, correcting what was wrong. Many things were beyond such quick help, but many weren't. I spent what felt like only a little bit of time taking stock of the systems, learning my way around them. A little bit of time, it turned out was months. Time passes differently when you have no flesh body. I was starting to enjoy being a starship, even a crippled and dead one, though it didn't break my feelings of utter solitude. I avoided the AR lab at first, my pain felt too raw and new, and concentrated my attentions elsewhere. Most of the ship was lifeless, the atmosphere an unbreathable mix of methane and carbon dioxide. There were a couple pockets of interest here and there though. A machine shop who's 3D printers I could operate. A backup database that held vast amounts of scientific and cultural data I could access with a thought, as easily as if I had read and memorized it. Long range sensors that could show me the stars and tell me their composition and makeup. The distant radio chatter of the Sol System, crowded with people and half a light year behind me. Finally though, my curiosity got the better of me and I turned my attention to the Agro Research lab. It was lush and green, it's air full of warm oxygen. It's systems were active and alive, several flagging me with messages. There was a diagnostic bed, hooked into the ship's network, dragged up from the med bay at some point, probably by my father. He'd used it, years and years ago, to dissect my brain, and then to treat his cancer and it's on board computers had records of both events. That was too macabre for me to deal with and I glossed over it, pushing it aside like an unwanted memory. There were hydroponic tanks, full of living plants and aquaculture vats with fish and algae and even freshwater clams growing in them. And then, there was the petri vat. It was an agricultural model, used for growing meat usually. Genetically modified beef or pork cell colonies. This model could support blood vessels and nutrient distribution. But my father had modified it extensively. There was even a high bandwidth wireless data feed connecting to the inside for some reason, I assumed so that my father could monitor whatever projects he had going on in there. I turned my attention to it. And would have gasped in amazement if I'd had lungs. Then I threw all my attention into the petri vat. I felt my mind collapsing down inside of it as it became my primary focus. I had the sense of taking a deep breath. . . * * * I sat up in the petri vat, my heart beating wildly in my chest. I was naked and warm and floating in gooy orange nutrient gel. Dozens of leach like IV tubes connected to my body, feeding it intravenously, but as they detected my movement, they automatically began letting go. I pushed up on the lid of the vat and it came open with a hiss of hydrolic hinges. I pulled myself up and out of the vat, my hands sticky and slippery with the gel and blinked in the bright light of the AR lab. It was a long room, built like a large green house, about 70 meters long and 40 wide. Rows of hydroponics tanks overflowing with green plants and aquaculture ponds filled the whole space. Small robotic agro drones, the size of a child's toy, hovered among them on quad-copter rotors, tending to the needs of vegetation and fish. I found the small administrative office, really a twelve foot by twelve foot box that my father had clearly been living and working in. To my delight, he'd rigged a makeshift shower directly outside it, with a high pressure nozzle and a drain in the floor that would take the water back out into the agro system. I rinsed off the gel and then dried myself in the air stream from a ventilation duct. I looked for clothes but found only a few sets that would fit my father. I decided I didn't care. There was no one but me for six light months. Out of curiosity, I reached back into the ships systems and found my connection to them unbroken. I was still the Nina, with access to and control of all of the ships systems. And I was Abby. Abbigale Katrina Brown, daughter of Dr. Stephen Brown, senior Molecular Biologist and Naomi Brown-Verdi, expeditionary captain. The two most important figures of humanities first manned interstellar mission. A generation ship that would take Earth's cleverest monkeys all the way to Epsilon Eridani. I had a moment of vertigo as my miraculously human body struggled to cope with being connected to the vast information processing systems where my consciousness now lived. Wait a minute, how did my father put me back together? * * * That I was a clone of my old self became immediately apparent as soon as I found a mirror. For one thing, I appeared to be about 11 years old. I also had no hair, anywhere on my body. It actually made sense that it would be easiest to grow a clone to prepubescence prior to complicating things with sexual hormones. Thinking of sex, I became curious and did a little exploring. All my parts seemed to be there, at least on the outside, and if the feelings my fingers gave me were any indication they were all working properly. So what was I on the inside? Brimming with curiosity, I strapped myself into the diagnostic bed and had it run a full scan. It told me I was a completely normal girl, between the ages of 10 and 12, heart rate 81 beats per minute, blood pressure 110/71. I was 5'2, 91 lbs, likely to grow a bit more over the next few years (I'd been 5'7 at 15, prior to my untimely murder). Then the diagnostic bed lost it's mind. I had no brain waves. It was throwing up alarms like crazy, recommending immediate surgery. It's a good thing I was mentally linked to it and able to override it's desire to zap me with electricity in a desperate attempt to restart my brain. Shuddering a little, I had the bed inject me with a nearly insignificant dose of technetium-99 and took a gamma image of the inside of my skull. It was hollow. At some point, while this body was growing, my father had scooped out all of it's brain matter and wired it into a wireless high bandwidth data link. The heart and lungs had been kept operational by signals from the leach IVs until the central computer that was my new brain was able to take over. I was a ghost in the machine. * * * My hair grew back, coming in the same wavy honey blond it had always been. I didn't bother caring for it. Or even dressing, or bathing much. At first, I spent a lot of time in my new body, exploring the place my father had made his home. I discovered that he'd rebuilt one of the aquaculture ponds as a small swimming pool and reprogrammed the agro drones to play chess and had watched every black and white B movie the twentieth century ever crapped out on the terminal in his office/house. But there were limited things to do in the AR lab and I spent less and less time being corporeal. I could enjoy old movies and whole libraries of books without the limits of the flesh. I could stargaze as no human ever had, directly experiencing the cosmos in all the wavelengths of the electromagnetic spectrum. Though I didn't need to sleep, I found I could relax my mind into such a state and even dream if I wished. I spent days some times, in that half conscious state. I did rediscover masturbation, and it immediately became the primary reason to pay any attention at all to my biological self. Stroking my clit became my motivation to spend time in the flesh and it was often all I used my body for. That and eating. For months, perhaps over a year, I would pop into my body to find it ravenously hungry. I would stuff myself with vegetables and fish from the AR systems and then spend a few minutes or hours laying back on the cot in the office, frantically fingering my little pussy. If my body was lucky, I'd be back in a few days. But even masturbation was a bit of a frustrating exercise. It reminded me how alone I was. And how the closest human male was half a light year away from me. I neglected my body more and more and dreamed longingly and sadly of penises. My body was suffering from my lack of attention, losing weight and feeling tired and achy when I was in it. I could tell I wasn't feeding it or exercising it enough, but I found it harder and harder to care. I was attached enough to being physical that I put some minimal effort into it's upkeep, not as much as it wanted, but enough to keep it alive. I don't know if I would have stuck with it honestly, if that special day hadn't happened. Like a light bulb going off in my brain. * * * I was masturbating one day, noticing that my pubic hair had grown back in, dark and sparse and curly, and that my breasts were more than small buds on my chest. I felt myself getting really wet and reveled in it, rubbing my slick fingers against my clit, moaning and gasping up at the ceiling of the office, dreaming the impossible dream of having a man slide his hard cock, warm and thick with arousal deep into my pussy. I imagined how it would feel to have a penis squirting hot, potent semen deep inside me while a handsome lover shuddered in orgasm on top of me. I came hard. “God damn it,” I said aloud, and not for the first time, “I'm going to die a virgin twice!” I brought my hand up from my soaking cunt and rubbed it over my breasts. It left bright red streaks behind it. “Oh!” I said, “So that's happening again.” Then I stopped. “Oh! Oh my!” * * * How, from where, was I going to get sperm? I obsessed over it for days. The eureka moment, realizing I didn't have to be alone, that I could make children, was probably the most exciting and liberating moment of my life. It was like something melted inside me, some horrible and sick knot of lonesomeness uncoiled and left me feeling breathless and alive again. I went from spending almost no time in my body to spending time there every day, much of it pacing naked through the AR lab, pondering my situation. Getting sperm was only the first of my problems. My body was physically in early adolescence and still not done growing. My hips weren't very wide, and my breasts weren't very big. If I did manage to conceive a child, I would probably need a C-section to deliver it safely. But that was OK, the diagnostic bed was up to that and I had all the medical knowledge of human history at my finger tips. In the end though, it was my father's research that held the answer. My father had disposed of himself in the composter, probably wanting to spare me the trauma of finding his aged corpse rotting away in AR. I appreciated that, but it seemed to throw a wrench into my first, impulsive plan. It turned out though that that didn't matter, the diagnostic bed was full of his genetic information. It had taken numerous samples from him while he'd been trying to treat his various cancers and had saved a complete copy of his healthy genome for comparison purposes. He'd also managed to clone me, using the modified petri vat (sadly, it would take a lot of work and tools I didn't have in here to get that unit to work again) and the procedure he'd used was well documented on the AR terminal. I had the diagnostic bed extract one of my eggs and using the AR equipment and the Nina's database, I replaced the nucleus of my egg with my own father's genetic code. I might not have easy access to sperm to fertilize my own egg cells, but there was no reason I couldn't impregnate myself with my father's clone. Given the lab equipment and my capabilities as the ship's main computer, it was actually extremely easy. * * * Being pregnant was good for me. It gave me reason to stay in my body, making sure I was eating properly, exercising and keeping an eye on the baby's health. The hormones played their expected havoc, making me sick and horny and cranky. I craved ice cream fiercely and had to settle for fish and vitamin supplements. If I'd had someone there to rage at, I would have lashed out irrationally more than once. Instead I hit walls and things and once smashed an agro drone (Stupid, stupid, suicidal! Never again!). I felt cheated, missing out on the parts of pregnancy where you get treated like a queen and people take care of you and do things for you and listen to your temper tantrums with a knowing smile. I cussed like a sailor at the mutineers, damning their souls to creative and non-existent hells. I begged and pleaded with the composter to give me my father back, so he could come and take care of me. I wept and raged and masturbated for hours at a time, before retreating out of my pregnant body to stare at the distant stars through my long range full spectrum telescopes, orders of magnitude more powerful then any feeble human eyes. I'd been right about the C-section. My barely pubescent hips weren't wide enough to give birth safely, and my dad was apparently a big baby. The diagnostic bed weighed him in at 9 and 3 quarters pounds at birth. I turned off my pain receptors while the diagnostic bed stitched me back up and held my father/son to one of my milk filled breasts. He suckled peacefully. “God damn, I respect grandma right now,” I said to him, as he nursed contentedly. He was the only other living human being within billions of miles and I named him Stephen, after my father. What else was I going to call him? * * * Stephen was a thoughtful and brilliant boy. He learned things fast and was insatiably curious. I was often sad that the little AR lab was probably the only place he'd ever know. Growing up, it was his whole world. Of course he was smart, he was 100% my father and my father had been a PHD biochemist, well respected enough to earn himself a top seat on the seed pod. He was the one who'd started calling it that, a pod floating out into space, carrying the seeds of Earth, the ice of the comet just like the nutrient rich pulp one would find in a plant pod floating across the ocean, looking for fertile soil. Stephen was always getting into everything, splashing in hydroponics, staring for hours at the tilapia in the aquaculture tanks. Being a new mother forced me to spend lots of time in my body, taking care of him and I was glad of it. Watching him learn and grow was the most interesting thing to do out in the blackness of interstellar space. Fortunately, the database was full of educational programs from Earth, including ones designed to educate children about shipboard life and my father/son's brilliant mind didn't lack for stimulation. I still didn't bother with clothes, we were a little nudist family from day one. I never hid anything from him. And why would I? We weren't just comfortable being naked around each other, we were never any other way. He noticed early on that he and I were put together differently, and when he asked why, I explained everything to him. Including where he came from, and how I'd made him from the cells of my dead father. I held my pussy open for him to see what it looked like, and even let him touch it a few times. I even explained to him what it meant when his little cock would get hard while he was doing it. I'd often masturbated while I was nursing him, and I couldn't have helped but notice the only cock in 6 trillion kilometers. Even though it was my son's. I'd see him tugging on it and would acknowledge that that felt good. He couldn't seem to keep his hands off it. There are probably plenty of people back on Earth who would think I'm the worst mother in the galaxy for letting him grow up like that, only him and me in that tiny AR lab, under those conditions. I don't care, let people judge. I was well out of reach of humanity and it's totally irrelevant moral systems. It's a long way between the stars, and nothing much happens. Stephen grew and learned. I was a woman and a mother/daughter and a starship and still a virgin and I was happy with all but that last bit. It was a blink of an eye before my father/son was an intelligent, engaging young boy who by ten years old had mastered every system in the AG lab. I could tell he chafed at our confinement there. He had the soul of an explorer and there was nothing much to explore. Sometimes he argued or lashed out at me, as children will, though never physically. He was always a gentle and considerate boy. Mostly, he was discontented and frustrated, as was I. Through out this time, we'd often seen each other masturbating. I'd known he'd thoroughly explored his own body and it's capacity for pleasure. And I know he'd read all about sex in the computer archives, what curious child wouldn't have? But I was still caught off guard the day he asked me the question. * * * “Mom, when are we gonna. . . you know.” Stephen asked me one day. We were both sitting in the swimming pond, which I'd warmed up to a deliciously almost uncomfortable 38 degrees Celsius with a thought. Being a starship has it's perks. I raised my eyebrow at my father/son. “Do what?” I asked, though there was a tension in the air and I thought I knew. “You know, have . . . I mean. . . “ he swallowed and his voice cracked. At twelve years old, it had only recently dropped. “I know it's genetically risky because we're closely related, but you're the only woman and I'm the only man for, well, over a light year at this point. I guess I just always assumed that someday we would. . . and I. . . I think I'm ready.” I laughed at him. “Really.” I said, “You just always assumed?” He turned beet red. It made me giggle. Then I was sad, that he probably didn't actually know what a beet was. We weren't growing any in AR. There were probably seeds in some inaccessible parts of the ship, but we didn't even have any environment suits in here. “I'm sorry,” he said, “if you don't want to.” My own body was about the equivalent of 25 and I'd had nothing but my fingers to satisfy myself. The truth was I did want to, probably more than I'd ever wanted anything in my life. But I was still carrying around enough of Earth's old cultural baggage, plus enough biological knowledge to know it was risky to get pregnant by my own father's clone. Eh, hogwash on that last one. I understood genetics probably better than anyone in Earth's history and my father/son was no dummy either. If we conceived a child with a crippling genetic disorder, we'd be able to tell well before they were born and either abort or possibly even treat them. Furthermore, when we got where we were going, we could conceivably clone other members of the crew once we recovered their genetic material. But we would need functioning wombs for that and the one inside my current body would be long dead by then. If that was going to work, we would need to make more. I thought about it. A couple generations of incest, and (probably) at least one more clone of each of us seemed the best hope for the mission's future. These thoughts ran through my computer brain before Stephen could even finish the silly part about “if you don't want to.” “Oh my sweet boy,” I smiled at him, “you have so many new things to learn about mommy.” * * * We'd taken to sleeping on cots at opposite ends of the lab. Though really, he slept. I put my body in “stand by mode” and went off to do glorious starship things. We dragged the cots together and laid down next to each other, feeling the warmth of our bodies pressed together. It was closer intimacy then I'd felt since I weaned him, and it was beautiful and sexy. I wanted it so badly, needed it so badly, I was almost crying. I guided my father/son's face to my nipples, where he hadn't been in years and when he began to suck, for the first time as a man, not a child, I felt myself get very wet. His cock pressed against me, feeling hard and beautiful. I pulled his face up to mine and kissed him, not like a mother but like a woman kisses a man and he kissed me back eagerly and passionately. “I love you mommy.” He said sweetly. I sighed at him, “Oh momma loves you too baby,” I told him. “Don't worry. This is the first time for me too.” He was a scrawny boy, no hint of a beard yet, only a small dusting of peach fuzz on his balls, still eight inches shorter than my father had been. He was beautiful, pressing beside me, his soft lips on mine, his arms wrapped around me. My beautiful father/son sighed and dropped his face back to my tits, sucking my pink nipples into his hot wet mouth as his hands came up to gently cup the same pale breasts he'd nursed on as a baby. I put my hand on his cock, stroking it gently. I marveled at how it felt beneath my fingers, smooth and warm. I desperately wanted to put it my mouth, so I pulled away from him and slid down his body. I put the head of his cock between my lips and began to suck on it gently, eliciting a loud, low moan from him. “Oh mom,” he groaned, “that feels so much better than when I touch myself.” “I've never sucked a cock before,” I told him, “You'll have to tell me if I'm doing it right.” I began to bob my head up and down and suddenly his fingers were in my wavy golden hair, holding my head in place as his hips bucked. It probably helped that I could turn off my gag reflex, but having my father/son fuck my mouth was the most arousing thing I'd ever felt. The fingers of my right hand were mashed up against my pussy as I felt that warm, hard cock moving, sliding over my tongue, touching the back of my throat and then retreating. I was almost cumming from the sheer eroticism of the moment and my cunt was creaming over my fingers as it never had before. I was moaning around his cock, trying to move my head in time with his thrusting. In almost no time at all, he let out a howl and I felt my mouth fill with something sticky and sweet and salty. I swallowed some of it, but there was a lot and his cock kept moving in my mouth, so violently it was hard to breath. Some spilled out and ran across my cheek and down my chin. “It's sperm,” I thought excitedly, “Semenal fluid. The stuff that goes in your vagina and makes babies. He's old enough to make it!” Then I had another thought, “It's the same sperm that made you, at least, the original you. Genetically, it's identical.” That did it. My cunt creamed around my fingers and I was cumming, cumming harder than I ever had. I screamed and thrashed and actually rolled off the cot, the middle two fingers of my right hand crammed into my pussy to the hilt, my palm pressed hard against my clit. I tasted my father/son's semen on my lips as I felt waves of pure sensation, centered around my clit and the inside of pussy, pulsing out through my whole body. My vaginal muscles squeezed down hard on my fingers and I screamed again, my body shuddering with passion. When I opened my eyes, Stephen was leaning over the cot, looking at me, concern on his face. I smiled up at him. “Oh baby,” I said to him, “Oh my sweet baby boy! That was so wonderful.” I reached a finger up to clean some of my baby's cum off my face. I scooped a drop onto my finger and looked at it with something not unlike awe. Then I reached down and shoved that finger into my pussy, trying to smear that pearly white drop as close to my cervix as possible. “I think this is where this goes,” I told Stephen wickedly, “this is how it makes babies.” “Is. . . is that what you want mom?” Stephen gasped, eyes wide with fascination. I smiled. “It is, yes,” I said, “Very much so.” Stephen got a wild look in his eye. He reached down and took my hand, drawing me up to stand next to the cots. He reached his hand over and began stroking my soaking pussy, exploring it with his fingers. He was already hard again, reloading with the vigor of the young man that he was. And I was still wet and eager. My darling boy fingered me enthusiastically, if somewhat clumsily, and then leaned forward and began to lick at my clit. He made low, animal grunts as he did so, and I groaned with heat and pleasure as he sucked my clit. Then I pushed him away. “I want it baby,” I told him eagerly, “I want you in me right now.” I straddled him and began to rub the head of his cock against my wet, virgin pussy. “Oh my god,” I said, “It's so warm and hard against me.” I rubbed the head against my clit, causing my body to pulse with pleasure when I did, then I lined him up with the opening of my vagina and settled down on him, feeling a cock identical to the one that made me inside my mother filling me up all the way. We both sighed out loud as he entered me and then I began to grind on him, mashing my clit into his pubic bone. I was making little high pitched squeals as I did, my breath coming in quick gasps. I had never in my life felt anything as good as having my father/son's cock deep in my pussy. I savored it, moving without urgency, feeling my body build up to another orgasm, but wanting it to last. I began to talk to him eagerly. Telling him what I wanted. “I want you to cum inside me, Stephen,” I said to him, “Cum inside momma. I want to feel your cum splashing against the back of my pussy. I want to cum on your cock, knowing the same sperm that made me, from the boy I carried inside me, are swimming up into me looking for my egg. I want you to make a baby in me. Another little crew member for our mission to the stars.” I continued to grind against him as he stared into my eyes, his face a mix of astonishment and rapture. “How does it feel baby?” I asked him, as I felt his cock fucking up into me, “how does it feel to be inside your momma?” “Wonderful,” he gasped, “It feels wonderful!” “I want you to cum in me,” I told him, “Momma wants it inside her. Get me pregnant. Make a baby in me and maybe it will be another girl for you to fuck.” I gasped and smiled wickedly, “Maybe we'll have one of each and they can fuck each other.” That did it. I felt him pour the second batch of his potent seed into me, to reinforce the little bit I'd already shoved inside myself. And I came right along with him, gasping “Yes yes yes yes!” as I did. * * * I don't know if it was that first time, or the next twenty times that happened over the next several days, but I missed my next period. We continued to fuck through my pregnancy, which the diagnostic bed reported was going extremely well. I wouldn't need a C-section this time, although I decided to have one anyway. They were considerably safer then natural child birth and since I had absolute control over my body in a way no human before me ever had, it seemed the way to go. We named our daughter Naomi, after my mother. Like her father (our father!) Naomi was a brilliant and inquisitive child. Stephen loved her intensely. Surprisingly, she got my mother's thick chestnut hair, instead of mine and Stephens wavy blond. But she had our eyes. And nose. She looked so much like him. There were differences, of course. She was more imaginative, while he was more analytical. And she learned to talk even faster than he had. She loved to sing, and had an excellent ear from a very young age, something I knew had been true of my grand parents, but not my parents or me. Being who we were, Stephen and I took it as an unprecedented opportunity to study human genetics. Encouraged by this, Stephen got me pregnant again around the time Naomi was 3. But within a few months, the diagnostic bed informed us our developing son would have a spinal deformity which could impact his skull shape and thus his brain development. We discussed it and decided to abort. I expected this not to bother me, but I found it heart breaking. I'd wanted another child and we could simply make another if we wished. The odds were good the next one would win the genetic lottery too, the way Naomi had. And yet, my heart wasn't in it. I had the diagnostic bed give me a birth control implant. We could try again later. Being a starship though, time flew by and I barely noticed it. Later turned into a seven years. Stephen and I still fucked regularly, but not with the wild enthusiasm we had when we were young. Naomi was a beautiful and brilliant girl. She wasn't as interested in the hard sciences as Stephen had been, but she absorbed music, art and literature like a sponge. She spent most of her late childhood with her nose pressed to the terminal screen, inhaling the words of authors as diverse as Azimov, Shakespere and Steinbeck. Like us, she went naked all the time, and more then once I caught Stephen eying his daughter/granddaughter with intense interest. I might have felt jealous, a little, but mostly I felt turned on by the idea. Naomi, for her part, seemed oblivious to her father's interest. That she knew what sex was, and saw us engaged in it regularly, probably made it normal enough to just be ignored, like the grow lights and the agro drones. Naomi wouldn't even try to watch us. Just ignore us and read. Or swim. Or do her exercises. I began to try to scheme up ways for my father/son to seduce my daughter/sister. I even used the ship's cameras to spy on her a little, hoping to catch her playing with the cute little pussy Stephen was always starring at. Another year passed and that pussy grew a little dark fuzz. Her tits began to bud out, like small plums under the skin of her chest. I was slightly disappointed to see she hardly ever did masturbate. Stephen and I were so sexual! Were we sure she was our kid? “You've gone from being the worst mother in the galaxy to being the most disgusting pervert in the galaxy,” I thought to myself. But who cared. Earth and it's cultural values and doomed religions were only getting further away as time passed. We listened to their radio chatter often. There'd been a war or something. Mars had declared it's independence, Earth and Mars had bombed each other from orbit. Tens of millions dead. Refugee camps on the moons of Jupiter. I was glad to not be there. Perhaps this was the event that precipitated what happened next. We were all sitting together on one of the cots and I was brushing Stephens hair, which, like all of us, he wore long and often braided. Stephen and I were being very cuddly and he was half erect. Which was peaking my interest, not in the least because Naomi was sitting right there with us and if we started being sexual with each other she'd see her parents playing together. Of course, she'd likely just ignore us, as usual. “I wish I could have a baby.” Naomi said suddenly. Both of us looked at her in surprise. “Oh?” I asked, taken a bit aback by this totally uncharacteristic thought from my daughter. “Yeah,” she said, “It seems like so many people are fighting and dieing back on Earth. That's so sad. And we're so peaceful and happy here. I know it's kind of lonely, but what they're doing seems terrible. I wish there were more of us here.” “Well,” I said, thinking directness was the way to go with her, “you could have a baby. Nothing is stopping you.” “You mean with dad?” she asked, as if it were no big deal, “I could, but we're so genetically similar, it would be a risk. I mean, he is technically my father and my grandfather, right?” “You could try, though.” I said, “It might be nice to have some more people around here. I was thinking I might clone myself actually. We already know my genetics are viable. We could just clone you too. Or we could clone your dad again. I've been noticing a bit of white in my hair lately. This body's 35. . .ish. If I want to have another baby, I need to do it soon. I'm thinking another me.” Naomi nodded thoughtfully. “We could just give birth to our clones, I suppose,” she said, “But I thought making babies was supposed to be the fun part.” Both Stephen and I laughed. “Sweet heart,” he told her, “We don't have to have a baby to do that. If you want to just have sex with me we can.” “I know,” she said, wistfully. “But dad, part of the problem is I DO want to have your baby. I've been thinking about it since I learned where baby's come from. I'm just worried it, you know, won't be OK.” “Oh honey,” I said to her sweetly, “Why don't you try? If it's not going to work out, we'll abort it.” Stephen was rock hard at the thought of getting to impregnate his daughter/granddaughter. I noticed that Naomi noticed, but as young as she was, she sort of missed the point. “Really daddy?” she asked, cuddling up against her father/grandfather, “You'd be OK with trying to make a baby in me?” Stephen put his arms around her and kissed her gently on the lips. “I would sweet heart. I'd like it very much in fact.” I sat back to watch them make out. Stephen's hand's came up to cup Naomi's budded breasts as they kissed. This was something I'd been wanting to see for years. Stephen looked over at me to make sure I was OK and I nodded at him. “Do her baby,” I told him, “I want to watch you make a baby with our daughter.” He smiled and nodded and Naomi folded herself around him, pressing her lips to his and kissing him hard. He traced his hands all over her body, just the way he knew I liked liked to be touched, brushing his fingertips up and down her spine, moving his palms to grip her hips and pull her closer against him. One of his fingers drifted around to stroke her pussy, with it's dusting of dark fuzz. The same color as my mother's hair. “Oh god, that is so sexy,” I said. I began to finger myself, already very wet and hot. My finger slipped right in. “Oh babies,” I said to them, “You're just going to have to have sex together a few times a day until Naomi catches. As soon as you test positive honey, I'll clone myself so that we can be pregnant together.” Naomi moaned, apparently excited at the thought. Stephen moved so that he was kneeling in front of her and as I watched, masturbating openly, he began to eat our daughter's pussy. “Ohhhhhh daddy. . . “ Naomi groaned, grinding her pussy against his face, “Oh daddy that feels soooo good.” His tongue moved slowly against her pussy, flicking lightly against her clit, just the way I'd taught him. Naomi put her hands in her fathers hair and leaned back, her toes curling and her eyelids fluttering as she felt the sensation of a tongue on her pussy for the first time. I watched them together, my fingers rubbing circles over my clit. I felt a bit envious of her. I wished I'd gotten to experience that pleasure at her age. I wished my father had licked my young cunt. I pictured him doing it while my mother watched, masturbating and encouraging us, as I was doing. I moaned a little at the thought and felt myself get even wetter. Stephen continued to eat Naomi's pussy, slowly jacking his cock as he did. He licked at her skillfully, using every technique I'd taught him over the years, then started to speed up, bringing his fingers up to penetrate the girl as he did. First one, then two, he worked the fingers of his left hand into his daughter/grandaughter, stroking the fingertips against her g-spot. I knew how good it felt when he fingered me and moaned a little bit at the thought of how I knew his fingers were making our daughter feel. “Do her baby,” I said, “do her.” He kept licking her, and she kept encouraging him, running her hands through his wavy blond hair. I tried to time my orgasm to sync with hers but it was hard. I'd always been so sexual and I could see that Naomi was going to take her sweet time. Watching Stephen eat her pussy was a such a turn on, I finally could hold it back anymore. My fingers were a blur on my clit and I moaned loudly as my orgasm slammed into me like an asteroid collision. Both my children looked over at me and smiled as they watched me cum, though Stephen kept his fingers moving inside her. “That was beautiful momma,” Naomi said to me, eyes bright with pleasure, then, “Daddy, I want you inside me now. Please, I've waited long enough. Momma will you hold me while daddy fucks me?” “Of course I will baby. I would be so happy to.” I moved over to my daughter/niece and put my arms tightly around her. Stephen stood and began rubbing his cock against her pussy. He took it slow, and from the looks on their faces and the noises they made, I could tell it was a tight fit. “God,” I thought, “She isn't even twelve yet. She's younger than he was the first time I fucked him. “Naomi hissed her breath in in pain a couple times and my arms tightened around her. Stephen stopped both times and both times she shook her head “No daddy, keep going!” Stephen did as she asked, working his cock into her a little bit, then pulling out and rubbing the head against her clit, spreading her moisture around. Then back inside. Eventually, he got the whole thing worked into our daughter's body and began to slide in and out of her. She moaned and rolled her head back and forth. “Oh daddy!” she cried, eyes closed, hands flailing at her sides, “It feels so good to feel you sliding in and out of me. It's so wonderful to finally have you inside me.” “It feels wonderful to be inside you sweet heart,” he told her, setting up a slow rhythm and fucking her gently. I played gently with Naomi's nipples and kissed her face. She turned her lips towards me, her mouth seeking mine and for the first time I shared a kiss with another woman. My own daughter. “Oh baby,” I told her, “You're so beautiful.” I knew Stephen couldn't last long, our daughter's pussy was clearly too tight and he was very turned on. I could also see she wasn't going to cum vaginally and would need a lot of attention to her clit to get off, but the angle he was fucking her at made it impractical. I wanted to play with her little love button, but the way her father/grandfather's body was grinding against hers didn't leave much room. And anyway, she was loving it, even if it wasn't going to finish her. Stephen looked at me and I met his gaze hotly. “Do it,” I hissed at him, “Do it!” With a sudden growl, my baby boy lunged forward, pushing his cock fully into our baby girl and I knew he was filling her with the same potent cum that had made me and then made her inside me. “Oh daddy,” she sighed, as she felt his cum splash inside her, “Oh yes daddy.” He held himself against her as he finished cumming, then he pulled back. I dove in to take his place and started licking our daughter's clit, the first time I'd ever done that to another female. It was intensely erotic, and I felt a swarm of butterflies take off in my stomach as I watched our daughter respond to my tongue on her body. She immediately gasped and, after only a few licks (full of the delicious flavor of Stephen's cum) Naomi shook with the most powerful orgasm I'd ever seen anyone have. It was like her body was being shocked with electricity over and over and she just kept tightening up and gasping, cumming and cumming, over and over. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. She was hissing something under her breath, over and over again and as her body came down from her first orgasms I was able to make it out. “Yes mommy! Yes mommy! Yes mommy!” * * * I named my clone Annabel and Naomi and Stephen named their son Peter. Peter was a challenging boy, a little awkward and slow. He definitely had picked up some learning disabilities from his mixed genome. Of course my Annabel was a lot like me, and quickly surpassed him as a student. But Peter and Annabel loved each other and were inseparable. It became a common sight to watch the two kids, sitting nude, side by side at the terminal, Annabel helping Peter to understand some challenging math problem or science fact. Perhaps it was that they were a boy and girl growing up together, seeing their parent's fucking and masturbating like it was all normal, but they were sexual together from the get go. I remember one day, when they couldn't have been more than five, and I was riding Stephen's cock while he was eating out Naomi's pussy. I looked over and saw little Annabel, the little girl with my face, kneeling before Peter, sucking his cock like her life depended on it. He had a huge grin on his face and kept looking over at us and laughing. It was beautiful and very sexy. I came hard. It was only a few more years before Annabel and Peter decided to try to fuck each other, and we all got to be there for it. In fact, Stephen, Naomi and I all sat together and watched them, our hands in each other's crotches. Stephen sat between us, the fingers of one hand up my snatch and the fingers of the other up our daughter's. We all sighed with pleasure when we watched Peter slide his little hairless cock up inside Annabel. They were only about seven years old and they were loving it! We watched them fuck together as we masturbated each other. When Stephen came, Annabel asked how long it would take for Peter to be old enough to “squirt sperm” and we all laughed. My body was an old woman's body before they were old enough for him to squirt inside her, but that didn't stop me from cumming hard the first time I saw it. I was masturbating and watching all my children fuck, Stephen fucking Naomi, Peter fucking Annabel, and when Peter pulled out and we saw cum leaking out of her barely fuzzy pussy (identical to my pussy) I came almost as hard as I had that first time Stephen came inside me. * * * By that time, Naomi had had two more children, one a clone of Stephen and one a clone of her. Annabel wanted to have Peter's baby, but we all (including Peter) advised her against it. It didn't seem like a good idea to reuse Peter's genes at that point, unless we could get some new genetics into the mix. Instead, we had Stephen make her pregnant. That combination had worked out well before, giving us Naomi and it worked out well again. One curse of being a starship was outliving my children. Not in my body, of course. I let that go even before Annabel and Stephen's son Eric was old enough that the family decided to have him get Annabel, his mother, pregnant. I got to watch through the ships camera's as Stephen and Annabel's son fucked his own mother's pussy, while the family stood around them watching and fondling each other. We were even playing with the young children at that point, I watched Naomi licking her seven year old clone daughter's little hairless cunt as they watched Eric cumming inside Annabel. But I had no sexual sensation inside the computer and beyond the bittersweet observation of the beauty of it, all I could do was take video logs. I turned my attention back to the stars, where our destination was growing in my sensors, getting closer by the minute. The Eric/Annabel genetics worked out well. Twice, in fact, giving us two girls named Emily and Amanda. I watched both their conceptions and their births through my internal cameras, not even missing my body much, though I continued to miss sex, especially every time watching Eric cum inside his mother, my clone daughter. It made me nostalgic for Stephen's cock inside me. Couldn't my dad have added some kind of virtual masturbation program to my code? It was heart breaking to me when Stephen passed away, as an old man. He'd lived his whole life in the AR lab, mortal son to an immortal starship, center of a happy clone incest family. Before we got where we were going, Naomi passed too, also of old age. Though by then we also had three clones of her running around. And two clones of me. And three of Stephen. The children had started calling me Nana Nina, grandma starship. The younger ones had never even known me as anything but a voice from the PA or pictures on the terminal screen. I was OK with it. I'd developed a grandma's personality to go with it, stern and funny, full of lessons and stories. I was fresh out of tea and cookies sadly, but the children had never had either and didn't know to miss them. Annabel and Peter were old by the time Epsilon Eridani became more then just another star and started to brighten into a sun. Peter passed before we passed Epsilon Eridani B, the super Jupiter that had been detected hundreds of years ago by Earth astronomers. It was a brown and stormy world, surrounded by moons, a couple similar in size to Earth and Venus. Maybe someday, my children's descendents will be living there. One of the first things we did when I decelerated and parked myself in orbit around a small mars sized planet right in Epsilon Eridani's Goldilocks zone, was to deploy the environment shield that would turn our little comet world into a habitable green tube with cold water oceans spread over most of my inner surface and a breathable atmosphere filling the whole thing. Compared to the length of the trip, the metamorphasis from broken starship to livable space station took only a few short months. I became a kilometer's long, rotating water farm in space. Once I'd shifted, we were able to access the rest of the habitation ring. We scavenged parts and equipment and for the first time, my descendents got to see places that weren't part of that tiny AR lab. We also immediately cloned some of the other original crew. Pretty soon, every viable female was carrying a clone child that wasn't related to us, ready to give our little incest family a much needed influx of new genes. Still incest and partner sharing is part of our story, and I'm pretty sure the life style isn't going anywhere anytime soon. Especially with the one other thing I did. I dug up another petri vat out of the medical bay. This one, a medical model, originally intended to clone human organs for transplant and medical care. * * * The first thing I was aware of, as I struggled back to consciousness, was a sense of deja vu. I stood up in the orange nutrient gel and pushed the lid of the petri vat open. Dale was looking at me. He was middle aged and handsome. Of course he was. He had Stephen's face and Stephen's eyes and Stephen's smile. My father's smile. He tossed his thick mane of honey blond hair, exactly the way that Stephen used to, exactly the way that father, used to do. He grinned at me. “Hello Nana Nina,” he said to me, “Welcome back to the land of the living.” I smiled at him, this handsome clone of my handsome father. He was nude, as was our way. My new body was young, still hairless and flat chested and not yet flush with hormones. But his cock was as nice looking as that of his predecessor. I was really looking forward to finding out if I could get it inside me. “It's good to be here,” I said to him, smiling warmly, “Call me Abby.”