Ad Astra – Just sci fi sex story

The starship “Ad Astra” has been my home for more than
forty years; I was orphaned by the Nano Wars when I was
8, but my parents–who were influential with the New Hope
Society–saw that I was taken aboard the giant
interstellar vessel when the world political situation
began to deteriorate.

Nearly 15 kilometers long, “Ad Astra” is basically a
giant cylinder designed to rotate and create artificial
gravity for the 10,000 people living inside; although I
barely remember the cities of Earth, the older people say
the inside resembles a quiet suburb, with apartment
blocks, farms and rivers filling the inner surface of the
cylinder.

Of course, if you live on this ship like me, you would
know that, but this record may survive our interstellar
journey. Originally, “Ad Astra” was propelled by a light
sail–a vast rig designed to catch photons beamed at the
ship from a gigantic laser in Earth’s orbit–but we lost
the laser just two years into the journey.

Most of our crew figured the laser had been shot down by
forces of the Terran Union–the military government of
Earth, opposed to the New Hope Society–but, for whatever
reason, a trip to Tau Ceti that should have taken half of
my lifetime would take several hundred years instead.

But that wasn’t the end of our problems; shortly after
the laser went down, all the men and boys on the ship
started dropping dead. It appeared that the Terran Union
had sabotaged our life support system with a Nano-Plague
virus–one specifically aimed at males– and only about
50 young boys survived. I was one of them; as it
happened, all of the hundred boys and girls in my school
were quarantined in the ship’s hospital with Amazonian
Meta-Pox-another disease probably foisted on us by the
Terran Union–but ironically, that one saved my life.

I would stay in the hospital with other boys–ages 10 to
14–while the ship’s women systematically flushed the
Nano-Plague virus from the life support system, and
tossed the corpses of their fathers, brothers, sons and
husbands into space. When I was finally let out of the
hospital–now 11–I found I was treated like a priceless
jewel.

Girls fussed over me, and women intervened whenever I
looked like I might be doing anything remotely dangerous;
but it was the same with all the other boys–we
represented the only hope for the population’s survival.
I didn’t understand that at the time; all I could see was
how traumatized my stepmother was with the death of her
husband, and how much my stepsisters Angel and Sara–ages
12 and 13–missed their dad.

With a catastrophe like that, things were never really
normal again; women took over all the jobs men used to
have–from farming, to life support maintenance, to
firefighting–and we boys continued to be pampered.

But then, about two years later, something strange
happened; women started getting pregnant all over the
ship. That included my 8th grade teacher, our school
principal– and my stepmother. Clearly she was
embarrassed, she didn’t even tell me until she was six
months along, and it was pretty obvious something had
happened.

“But how can you have a baby without Dad?”

“Oh, Jason,” Mom said, embracing me as best she could,
with her swollen belly between us; “Mommy had to have
some help, now that your Dad is gone…”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the Plague took away all our men,” Mom said,
tearfully; “but we have to have babies to keep the colony
alive…”

“So?”

“So Mommy had to have some help…to make another
baby…”

Mom didn’t clarify that–she was pretty upset–but I soon
got a full run-down on the situation. At the start of the
9th grade, my beautiful teacher–the widowed Mrs. Amanda
Blaylock–took me aside for a private meeting after
school. I felt a little awkward about that; although I
had only just entered her class.

I had seen her around the school before, and–when I
first discovered masturbation a year before–she figured
prominently in my fantasies. 42 years old, with a pretty
face and long red hair– swept back with a barrette–she
had huge breasts and trim sexy legs, generally
complemented by strappy high-heeled sandals. Somehow, she
didn’t quite seem to belong on an interstellar
spacecraft, but every boy in school had a crush on her.

“Did you want to see me, Mrs. Blaylock?”

“Oh yes,” she said, inviting me to take a seat opposite
hers.

“Jason, have you heard of the Seed Project?”

“The what…?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed that a lot of our women
have been having babies recently. To be frank, that’s
because Captain Brazil has ordered a crash-breeding
program to reconstitute our male population. All our
surviving males–ages 14 and up–are being asked to
copulate with random, anonymous partners.”

At this point, Mrs. Blaylock crossed her legs and I felt
dizzy– both from catching a glimpse of her panties
beneath her skirt, and from trying to understand what she
was saying.

“We haven’t involved the younger girls yet,” she
continued, “but that’ll be changing soon. What I need to
know is if you’d be willing to have sex with our females,
so they can have babies.”

Suddenly–thinking about the many older girls and women I
knew–I felt the blood draining from my head. I thought
about the girls I’d had crushes on–the 10th grader
Baksho Devi, my classmate Suki Nakayama, Mrs. Blaylock–
and I nearly passed out.

“Easy there, tiger,” Mrs. Blaylock said, catching me as I
reeled in my seat; “it’s not as exciting as you think.”

“Huh?” I said, woozily. Close by now, I could smell Mrs.
Blaylock’s perfume–vaguely resembling fresh-baked bread-
-and recovered my senses.

“You’d have to do it in the dark,” Mrs. Blaylock
explained, “and there’s no talking. It has to be
impersonal, so you and your partner don’t recognize each
other.”

“What if a girl…doesn’t want to do it?”

“Well, that’s not an option; the captain wants the
population built up now, before you boys get older and
nuclear families start re-forming with husbands and
wives. You can imagine, a husband wouldn’t necessarily
want his wife to be going off to get poked by a random
stranger every weekend.”

“Does this mean I can’t have a girlfriend? Would that be
disruptive?”

“No,” Mrs. Blaylock said, smiling, “Project Seed is just
for the short-term; eventually, boys and girls will go
back to having normal lives.”

“So, should I ask my mom if it’s okay?”

“No, she already knows we’re having this talk. So what do
you say?”

“I think I’d like to have sex,” I said.

“Good man. I knew you’d be a team player.”

* * *

Somewhat sheepishly, I told Mom about Project Seed, but
she already knew all about it–that was where she’d
gotten her baby. My sisters were a lot more embarrassed–
they’d be partners for someone, too–but I was assured by
Mrs. Blaylock that the computer wouldn’t assign me to
someone from my family.

So I waited, impatiently, for my first appointment with a
random partner. It would come the next weekend at the
Ship’s Nursery-where all the anonymous coupling had been
taking place–so, irrationally, I stopped masturbating,
wanting to be as potent as possible.

Unfortunately, that meant my balls were positively aching
with pressure by the time I showed up for my session, and
the woman who greeted me could tell I was feeling
uncomfortable. A nursery worker, her name was Dolly
Mendoza, and she had a very maternal manner–generous and
comforting–complimented by her chubby body, and a pair
of positively gigantic breasts.

“Are you my partner?” I asked, stupidly, as she guided me
into a bedchamber.

“No,” she said, “I’m just here to show you how things
work.”

The chamber, I noted, was softly lit with low red light.
It revealed a king-sized bed with plush sheets, and some
other minimal furniture.

“We’ll turn down the lights all the way,” she said
gently, “for your partner.”

“Should I get undressed?”

“Here, let me help you,” Dolly said.

She said it so matter-of-factly, I didn’t even think to
protest. A few moments later, I was sitting naked on the
side of the bed, with Dolly standing fully clothed beside
me.

“Ma’am,” I said, “what’s it like…the first time?”

She smiled. “It’ll be special. The girl knows it’s your
first time.”

“Well, geez,” I said, “what if I cum too soon? I don’t
want to embarrass her.”

Again, the matronly Dolly smiled. “Well, maybe I can help
a little,” she said.

Then–to my utter amazement–she put her hand on my
shoulder, and pushed me onto my back on the bed. Then–
still fully clothed–she got on the bed with me,
straddling my hips, and took my cock in her hand; I was
rock-hard in a second, but–before I could even react–
she lifted up her skirt with her free hand, pulled her
panties aside, and settled down on top of me. I felt my
drooling cock-head touch her velvety-soft labia, then
slip inside her as she sank downward, sliding a wet
sheath of fertile flesh down around my stiff penis.

“Oh, fuck…!” I gasped, feeling the helmet of my dick
touch her cervix; I looked into her eyes–the eyes of a
mother, compassionate and loving–and exploded deep
inside her.

“Oh god…!” I grunted, suddenly grasping her hips and
thrusting upward; she took my thrusts–groaning slightly
as my sperm squirted into her belly–and I felt her
inside muscles holding me, milking the cream from my
balls. Then it was done. I relaxed and she knelt forward-
-still impaled on my cock–to kiss me on the cheek.

“I’ll give you a minute,” she said, “then send her in.”

“Wait a minute,” I said, “what if something happens, or
she wants me to stop?”

She startled me with a gentle pelvic thrust–squeezing my
cock.

“You see that green light beside the bed?” she said;
“either one of you can touch that, and it will signal
that you’re done.”

“What will happen if I talk?” I asked. “Will somebody
throw me out?”

Again she squeezed my cock, gently, with her pussy. “No.
It’s just not polite. And if you get too carried away, we
might not ask you to come back.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be good.”

My gentle partner smiled, lifting back upright, and sat
there a long moment cradling my shaft inside her. Then
she rose up off me, and I lay there spent–for the
moment–as she departed. A moment later the lights faded
out completely, then the door slid open again with a
slight hiss.

I didn’t know who she was–I made sure to keep quiet–and
I wasn’t sure quite how old she was, but she seemed to
know what she was doing. In the dark, she slid down
beside me, and nuzzled my neck as she felt for my penis.
It was still slick–I think that startled her a little–
but I was instantly hard, and that was the main thing she
cared about. She let me fondle her breasts–they were
nice and firm–then pulled me over on top of her. Aware
of my “virginity”, she gently guided my penis up to her
hole, then eased the tip inside herself.

It certainly felt good; she was warm and soft inside, and
I wondered who she might be–even as I felt my shaft sink
inside her, and my balls came to a rest on her ass.
Little Baksho? Suki? My Mom…?

Maybe it was even one of my stepsisters…

Of course, I knew better–but she was still somebody’s
daughter, lying beneath me with my cock nudging her womb.
The thought was certainly arousing; I started to grind
her–deep and hard–and I felt her groan with delight.
She probably expected me to cum soon, but my benefactor
Dolly had taken the edge off; I was solid—I could feel
her pussy-mouth stretched around my shaft– and I could
feel her cervix, too, every time I went deep. Whoever she
was–young or old, student, technician or teacher–she
was clearly pleased at my stamina, and wrapped her legs
around my back, even as I pumped her.

“Oh, baby…!” she whispered, “Make me cum…!”

I didn’t recognize her voice, but I felt my cock stiffen
even harder, realizing what I was doing to her.
Inadvertently, I was grinding her clitoris between our
pubic bones, and her pussy began to clutch at me, seeming
to suck me deeper inside her.

“Oh, I think I’m gonna cum…” I whispered back.

Thankfully–for my youthful self-esteem–she came first,
tensing her body, then shuddering as pleasure washed
through her hips. She actually bit my shoulder–
surprising me–even as her cunt sucked and pulled at my
penis.

“Oh, sorry–!” she said.

“That’s all right,” I said, finally pushing in deep and
squirting my sperm into her belly. She sounded fairly
mature–more than I should know, I guessed–but I didn’t
want to embarrass her, or break the rules, so I just
leaned in close to her and nibbled on her neck. I was
surprised how hard I came–long, creamy jets of semen
flowed from my cock, plastering the mouth of her womb–
and I kept on pushing until I was sure that I had
squeezed out every last drop.

We did it two more times after that–once with her riding
me, and once with me fucking her from behind–and she was
quite soaked with cum by the time she finally touched the
green light, sparing me the embarrassment; she probably
could have gone all night. As the lights began to fade
up, she kissed me good-bye, but was gone before I could
even catch a glimpse of her features.

* * *

What was strange was how little us guys talked about it.
Maybe that’s because every guy soon had a mother or
sister–or both– with newborn babies, and more on the
way. Both my sisters were soon pregnant, as was Mom (with
her second), and I couldn’t help but wonder which of my
classmates might have done it–might have thrust his cock
deep inside little Angel or Sara or Mom, and filled her
womb with his seed.

Whoever did it, there were soon more babies than the
unwed mothers on the ship could handle, and new
institutions evolved to deal with that. Nursery Homes
began to form–essentially collective homes staffed by
full-time mothers–and those would raise most of the
babies. The Captain herself–46-year old Miranda Brazil–
turned up plump with her first baby a few months later,
and thinking about that sure put the stiffness in my cock
when I returned to the Ship’s Nursery for my weekly
anonymous fuck; I might have been the father, for all I
knew.

Although we were only allowed one partner per week, I
looked forward to the weekends with sex-happy glee–in
between masturbating to build up my stamina. I now
realized that was a good technique; it kept me from
popping my nut the moment I touched a girl, and gave me
endurance to make it good for her– whoever she was.

Every girl was different–some were older ladies who
tried to keep their composure, and some were young girls
who squealed when I slam-fucked their sweet little
pussies. Some had already had several babies–I could
tell from the looseness of their pussies–and some were
girls barely out of grade school, so tight they almost
hurt when I fucked them.

Once–shortly after I turned 15–I even had the privilege
of fucking a virgin. Dolly (who was pregnant now with her
fifth baby–possibly mine) let me know that, so I
wouldn’t hurt the girl too much her first time;
certainly, the girl was nervous, but I went slow and
opened her up with my fingers before I pushed my cock
inside her, breaking her hymen and splitting open the
muscles of her pussy.

“You’re so big…!” she cried.

“Shhh,” I said, fucking her slow and deep; “I can’t know
who you are. If I do, I might want to make you my
girlfriend.”

She giggled, nervously. She couldn’t be younger than 14–
the youngest age of anyone in the Seed Project–but she
was still just a little girl, and I did feel sorry for
her.

“Tell you what,” I whispered; “why don’t you rub your
pussy, and see if you can cum.”

“I’m a little scared,” she admitted, whispering back; “I
feel like you can see right through me.”

This took me aback, and I stopped thrusting with my cock
buried up to my balls inside her.

“Listen,” I said, leaning close to her; “you are special
to me.

You are unique, and beautiful, and I’m honored to be your
first.”

She started crying.

“Do you want me to stop?” I asked.

“No…” she said, wrapping her legs around me; “just love
me.”

So I started fucking her again, and eventually she
started getting into it. I tried to go easy at first, but
that got harder as she started moaning beneath me,
swiveling her hips as I fucked her; despite myself, I
found myself punching my cock into her hole, smacking her
ass with my nut-sack.

She wasn’t terribly wet–just wet enough to let me fuck
her–but that changed suddenly when she started rubbing
her clitoris with her fingers, and doubled up with the
sudden release of her climax; pussy-juices exploded from
her hole, soaking my balls, and she leaned forward off
the bed, arching her back and crying into my chest.

“Oh, fuck…!” she gasped; “fuck…!!!”

Sheathed, meanwhile, in her tightly clenching cunt, my
cock responded with a sudden gush of sperm, fired right
into the mouth of her womb. Pressing in deep, I wrapped
my arm around her head even as I came–squirting again
and again, filling her belly with my seed–and I noticed
absently that she seemed to have straight, short hair.
That meant she wasn’t Suki–Suki had shoulder-length
hair–but I still had feelings for her, and what we had
shared.

“Kiss me,” she said.

“Are you sure?”

I could tell she was, and I obliged, bending down to kiss
her full on the mouth. My penis, meanwhile, continued
throbbing in the grip of her pussy–even as I strained to
squeeze out the last of my cum–and she milked me with
her cunt-muscles, even as our tongues met and lips
brushed against each other.

“Thank you,” she said. “I can’t wait to have your baby.”

And of course, that earned her another good hour of
fucking.

* * *

Alas, Project Seed did not last indefinitely. By the time
I was 16, my Mom had squeezed out four babies, and my
sisters added two more each, which was typical; Mrs.
Blaylock eventually had a son and a daugher, and Captain
Brazil herself contributed a set of triplets on her 47th
birthday, adding to the daughter she’d already had in the
interim.

After about a year, I asked the Ship’s Nursery doctor
(Sophia Bern, a cute 35-year old brunette– and mother of
a newborn son by some lucky bastard) if the ship’s women
were using fertility drugs. She just chuckled, pointing
out that was hardly necessary.

In fact, over a span of three years, my classmates and I-
-just 50 guys-ended up fathering over 2,000 children by
nearly as many women, and Captain Brazil finally decided
that was enough. The Seed Project would end within the
year.

For my part, I wasn’t as sad as I would have thought. By
then, I was going out with Suki (the mother of a 2-year
old son by some guy in the project, given up to a nursery
home), and I was kind of glad she didn’t want to fuck all
the time; with all the sex I’d had, it was kind of nice
just to hang out with her and enjoy her company. And when
we did fuck, Suki made sure she was using the newly
authorized contraceptive implant; her next baby, she
said, would come when she wanted it.

But I was still plenty potent, and I continued to fuck my
partners in Project Seed right up to the last. Toward the
end, the rules got pretty relaxed; for my second-to-last
coupling, Dr. Bern startled me by asking if she could be
my partner this time. I agreed–she looked positively
super-fuckable in a halter-top, short white skirt and
white sandals–and we did it, for a change, with the
lights on. Unfortunately, I was a little too turned on–

I shot my load in her belly almost as soon as she sunk
down around my shaft–but she was kind of enough to get
me hard again with a blowjob. Then, with surprising
dignity, she impaled herself on my cock a second time,
and picked up a clipboard to give me the details of my 2-
year sex campaign.

“Let’s see,” she said, reading off her clipboard even as
she ground her hips into my crotch, “you’ve made love to
95 women in the project–median age 26.9–and fathered 46
babies by 38 of them, including one set of triplets and
six sets of twins.”

“Oh, fuck…” I gasped, watching the pretty doctor’s tits
bounce on her chest, and feeling her pussy suck at my
cock. Despite just having a baby herself six months
earlier, her pussy was very tight and snug around my
penis.

“So,” I said, “these women are never going to know I was
the father, right?”

“Right…” she said. But then she added, with a sly wink,
“except for one; I thought you should know, you’re the
father of my baby.”

“I…what?”

“You might remember it; I was your first–after Dolly.”

“Oh my God,” I said, finally overcome by her slow-
grinding fuck. I came hard, plastering her womb with six
hard jets of thick and youthful semen.

“It was a doctor’s prerogative,” she said, gleefully
milking my pulsing cock with her pussy; “I always like
taking the new ones.”

So it seemed I would know only one of the mothers of my
babies. When the last week came, however, I was surprised
by a strangely familiar smell when my partner entered the
blacked-out room. I couldn’t quite place it, but it
smelled nice and yeasty, and I suddenly realized who it
was when she slid down next to me; with her gigantic
breasts–breasts swollen even larger with milk for two
recently-born babies–it was Mrs. Blaylock!

Of course, I was no longer in Mrs. Blaylock’s class, but
even so my heart raced fast, and I nearly fell off the
bed. Somehow– through a supreme effort of self-control–
I managed to maintain my composure enough to hold her,
and cradle her in my arms. Up close, the smell of her
perfume was even more intense, and I sucked on her
nipples with childish glee–sensing her mild
embarrassment when milk began to pulse from both her
nipples in unrelenting jets.

She answered by sucking my cock–something most of the
project women didn’t do–and I laid back to let her go at
it, sucking my shaft with lips I remembered all too well
from class. I let her make me climax–it was messy, with
the sound of her slurping and sucking, and I was startled
to hear her gulping down my cum– then rolled her over to
return the favor. Wishing I could see her sweet pussy, I
peeled her open with my fingers, and flicked my tongue
across her clitoris until she came as well.

“Oh, fuck–!” she gasped; “yes, you’re making me
cum…!!!”

It was her voice, I could tell, and I was hard as an iron
bar when I finally moved up between her legs to fuck her.
She was moist and tight–despite her babies–and I pushed
in all the way with one thrust. She gasped, startled,
then wrapped her arms and legs around my back as I
started to pump her. She whimpered that she could feel my
stiffness–unyielding in the clutching grip of her cunt–
but I just kept silent myself, not wanting to ruin the
most erotic secret of my life.

Soon she came again, hard, but I rode on through her
climax and pulled out to flip her over and fuck her from
behind. Slapping her sweet ass with my hips, I stabbed my
cock into her creamy hole, kissing her womb with my cock-
head, and finally rode her so hard that I forced her down
off her knees and into the bedspread beneath us.

More than anything, I wanted to impregnate her–to fill
her fertile tummy with cum and soak her eggs with my
sperm– and my desire actually prolonged my pleasure.
Harder than I’d ever been, I made her cry with a second
shuddering climax, then punched in deep to squirt my
sperm right into her womb. There was a lot–gushing
streams of semen erupted from my cock, filling her pussy
with my living seed–and I could feel the back-flow wash
across my balls and spill across her thighs.

I was only good for one more time after that, riding her
sticky-wet hole until I added a second blast of sperm to
the first. Then I let her go, and swore to myself never
to reveal my secret. As it happened, Mrs. Blaylock did
grow plump and round with one more baby–a son born 9
months later–and I was secretly pleased to hear that she
would raise him herself.

As for Suki and me, we did eventually get married and
actually had a few kids of our own. Now, 40 years later,
it’s hard to believe that our kids–and all those I
fathered–will be dead long before “Ad Astra” reaches her
destination, but I believe our grandchildren will someday
appreciate the unusual arrangements we made for their
sake. And I like to think that Mrs. Blaylock is looking
down on us from beyond the grave, now that she’s passed
on; she was my world for one night, and ever after in my
dreams.