x
1
In the Bentley on my right, a businessman takes a long drag of his cigarette while tapping in rhythm with the car’s analog clock. Every minuscule movement sinks his body deeper into the leathered upholstery, glaring ahead at the lines of cars blocking our travel. Many would assume he’s just like the rest of us fidgeting in our vehicles: tired, hungry, and desperate to recline in anything but our car seats. But from his freshly pressed suit jacket to the childish medallion hanging from the rear-view mirror, I can tell he’d do anything to be with his family.
Is that not every man’s dream? To have a loving family waiting at home, ready to greet him with hugs and kisses the moment he returns from the daily toil? Maybe for some men it isn’t, but I’m not like the disheveled young man on my left attempting to merge ahead of me in that blocky RV of his. He probably lives in there, sightseeing the country while family men in Bentleys are forced to accommodate his unsightly home.
The cars ahead begin to creep along the littered and crumbling pavement, prompting me to accelerate in front of his merge. As I expected, he lays on the horn and flips a silent “fuck you” as his middle finger hangs in my rear-view mirror. Unfortunately for him, I don’t have a Bentley — and I certainly don’t have a child waiting for me. Though I do have a wife waiting for me, probably coloring in her “jammies” by the garage entry door. I suppose it isn’t much different...
As the traffic continues to accelerate forward, flashing police lights from the highway’s edge catch my attention. From what I can tell, a crash between a semi-truck and a mini-van was causing the jam — the man in the Bentley speeding past me in his lane. It’s hard to get a good look at the damage, but, like everyone else, our morbid curiosity steers us to gawk at the wreckage like a traveling circus attraction. Unsurprisingly, the semi looks fine — a couple of dents and scratches on its front bumper; the mini-van, however, is a contorted pile of twisted scrap metal. And from the carnage, a team of firefighters attempts to pull a family of three mangled corpses from the ruins. Broken glass from the roadway twinkles in dusk’s crimson hue, steering family men to gaze at the trickles of blood dripping from the passenger-side door.
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2
Pulling into my one-story abode of rotting asbestos and building code violations, I steel myself for the woman waiting for me. Any other man would dream of being in my shoes, assuming they live in an RV. And to be honest, at one point I did enjoy it — quite a lot, in fact. But now, I despair every time I step foot beyond that entry door knowing full well what’ll greet me on the other side. The most I can do is drift into the pleasures of our ritual and hope for this nightmare to be over soon. Just let me wake up already…
With a slight push, the door glides open and gently closes without a sound. A pang of worry and curiosity compels my eyes to scope the slender laundry room hall, searching for any signs of her presence. The usual culprits — coloring books, finger paint, cheap toys — are nowhere to be found. For the first time in weeks, the entrance to my home isn’t cluttered with her… infatuation. I feel like I should be relieved, but a part of me can’t help but dread its implications.
“...Ashley? Honey, are you home?”
My words are immediately swallowed by the black abyss staring at me from the hall’s opposite end. Aside from the little light streaming through a pair of small windows, the rest of the house is covered in a suffocating darkness that threatens to engulf me as twilight falls. Did she never get out of bed? …But then why are her toys—
Without warning, a nude figure rushes from the darkness and thrusts me against the wall, latching herself onto me. I’m completely constricted by her slender arms and legs as they hold me for dear life.
“Are you proud of me? I cleaned up all my toys just for you,” she whispers while my neck is assaulted by licks and kisses.
“Christ, Ashley… Don’t scare me like that. …Is there a reason why you’re in the dark?”
“I talked to her today. She told me we’ll increase our chances if we try it with all the lights off. It’s sorta scary without the night lights, but only when you’re not holding me…”
“Is that so…”
Once again, she’s referencing this mysterious “her” person. I originally brushed it off as a quirky joke, but now I’m genuinely worried about who she’s talking to, assuming she’s talking to anybody but herself.
“Mike, it’s been a week and I masturbated like she told me to — I can’t wait anymore. We need to do this now.”
Her waist trembles as lubricant begins to seep through my slacks. I barely have the energy to hold her up, but if it’s been seven days since she took her pills…
“...Can I at least change out of my clothes first?”
My question is ignored by her lips locking onto mine. Before long, my apathy is replaced by a swelling lust from her forceful, sloppy kisses.
“Mike… Please.”
Our tongues intertwine as her pelvis begins to grind on my clothed erection. Come on, the lady at the dry cleaners already gives me enough shit…
“It’ll be quick. Just let me take off—”
“I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer,” Ashley states with a forceful, impatient tone. What’s gotten into her?
She frees me from her bondage only to unbuckle and throw my belt onto the tile floor. Her lust continues with my slacks and boxers, practically ripping them from my waist — leaving me half-naked and dazed.
“Wait, Ashley—”
Again, she pounces on me like before and thrusts my penis inside her. Every inch is immediately covered in a slick substance that is far hotter than anything naturally occurring.
“I put it in the microwave this time. Hehehe… I did it all by myself!”
Its warmth envelopes me like a weighted blanket on a winter’s night. In and out, the tip of my penis melts within the confines of her constricting walls — a pleasure that fuels my desires enough to override any inhibitions. In one continuous movement, I lower both of us to the floor and begin thrusting on top of her without restraint. Muffled moans turn into audible gasps of ecstasy that drown my grunts.
“I-I can feel it! It’s gonna happen this time! Mike, inside!”
The chill tile clashes with the heated lubricant to create a powerful feedback loop that rejuvenates my lust with every thrust. By this point, I’m smothering her with my heaving body as her legs choke my waist. There’s nowhere for me to go other than inside her.
“Inside! Do it inside! Inside! Inside! INSIDE!”
Nearing my breaking point, I readjust by squeezing my arms around her, nuzzling her chest, and allowing my waist to freely move as it pleases. Ashley’s pleas morph into short, high-pitched whimpers as she gasps for breath, leaving the slick sounds of lubricant to echo throughout the house. For a brief second, thoughts breach from the recesses of my mind when I notice how profusely I’m sweating through my suit.
“...IN— —DE.”
On the cusp of climax, my eyes shut while my face contorts during one final acceleration. She wraps her arms around my neck and remains speechless, eyes rolling to the back of her head mid-orgasm. I’ve reached my limit.
“...Ashley!”
Overwhelmed, I violently ejaculate into the depths of her vagina while she moans and giggles in satisfaction. My empty testicles and aching body eventually collapse atop her sweat-soaked skin — both of us panting while gazing into each other’s eyes. Once our labored breathing subsides, she cusps my chin, pulls me in for a kiss, and then, with her gentle voice, whispers into my ear:
“...Again.”
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3
The following afternoon, I wake to the sight of my dirtied suit jacket lying in a wrinkled clump on the edge of the master bed. Stains — some dried and crusted — litter the bed covers, causing me to internally groan knowing someone will have to do weekend laundry.
“Good morning!” Ashley yells across the cramped bedroom with a friendly grin. Before I can question her about last night’s antics, she drops her coloring book, jumps onto the bed, and crawls on top of me. Her lips softly reach mine as we bask in our love.
“You really filled me up last night. It’s been a while since you’ve done that…”
In her mind, there must be a difference between “filling her up” and “really filling her up.” After all, I spend most nights ejaculating in her at least once. Though in her defense, most nights don’t end in me fucking her until the sun’s morning rays caress our glistening bodies.
“I guess it has…” My words taper into her ears as I avert my gaze. To be honest, I’m not sure what came over me last night. Yes, the heated lubricant was borderline euphoric, but even that shouldn’t have kept us until morning. Maybe I needed to take the edge off after seeing that accident…
“Hehe… Of course it has, silly.” She boops my nose with one hand and tickles my nape with the other. “And I’m glad you finally did it last night. For a second, I thought you’d never fill me like that again. I don’t know if I would’ve been able to handle that…”
It’s becoming increasingly difficult to tell if her words are veiled threats or flirty banter. No, I don’t think she’d hurt me or anything, but considering how she didn’t take “no” for an answer last night, I have to wonder what else she doesn’t take “no” for anymore.
“...Could I ask you something?” She responds by wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me close.
“What is it?”
“Who exactly is this… person you keep mentioning? You know, the person that told you to turn off all the lights...”
“Her? Oh, she’s a nice lady that talks to me.”
“...In this house?”
“Mostly. But even when I’m running errands, I’ll catch her following me. …Don’t get the wrong idea, she’s not a creepy stalker.”
As if “creepy stalker” isn’t the right idea. To think I’ve waited since Wednesday to confront her about this…
“Uh-huh… What does she look like?”
“Why don’t I show you?” Her weight lifts from my body as she runs over to a pile of disorganized papers and coloring books clumped on an antique desk — colored pencils and crayons scattered everywhere. She grabs one of the papers and jumps back onto me.
“Here.”
As if I child drew it, I’m handed a crude illustration of a humanoid figure with long hair. Incredulous, I gaze closer at the seemingly impossible hair braids flowing from the woman’s scalp down to her lower back. The more Ashley stares at me with sincerity, the more I begin to question her mental state.
“...And you’re telling me this person talks to you in this house?”
“Yep! Whenever I think about being pregnant or playing with our future child, she appears and we talk about it. Hehe… We even cuddled yesterday while you were at work.”
My mind immediately thinks of the giant teddy bear taking up space in our soon-to-be child’s room. I’ve seen her cuddling with that bear before, so what are the odds she’s referring to that? And if she is, then I may have to talk to her about this…
“And why haven’t I seen her?”
“...Don’t look at me. I’m sure when the time’s right, she’ll make herself known to you.”
Ashley slithers her finger around my chest before softly rubbing our noses together. Warm exhales fondle my mustache.
“...Are you still going over to Dick’s house?” Her pleading stare and wandering hand reveal exactly what she wants. I don’t she think understands that “beggars can’t be choosers.”
“I was planning on it. Why?”
“Well… Since it’s the weekend and all…”
“Sweetie, I promise we’ll get more alone time. It’ll only be for a couple of hours.”
She slightly puffs her cheeks and pouts at the audacity of my statement. A temper tantrum is the last thing I need — especially after I drained every drop of semen into her multiple times over. Can’t she give me a break?
“But you always go over to Dick’s on Saturday! I wanna be here with you…”
A surge of arousal travels up my body as she begins fondling my scrotum. Nope, I promised Dick I’ll be there. Besides, after our little conversation about her drawing, I need to talk to him. He’s pretty much the only person I can disclose all of this to.
“Hey… Have you done a pregnancy test today?”
Her hand suddenly stops and releases my testicles once she arrives at the realization. Internally, I breathe a sigh of relief knowing this will be enough to distract her. All I have to do is take a shower, slip into my weekend wear, and drive over to Dick’s before it’s too late.
“How about you do a test while I shower? And just for today, don’t tell me until after I get back from Dick’s. If it’s positive, then great! If it’s negative, then we’ll try again tonight. Does that sound good?”
“...We’ll really try again? Just like last night?”
“O-Of course, honey…”
At this rate, I’ll either hobble into work come Monday morning or call in “sick” with a deadly but extremely rare fever that only lasts as long as my aching joints. Either way, this aging body isn’t meant for her nightly sexcapades.
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4
Within the comforting warmth of the shower’s stream, I can briefly forget about our deteriorating bathroom. Even before trying to conceive, this space was far too cramped for my liking — but now it’s transformed into a hoarding hellscape. For at least a week now, I’ve been nagging her to clean up the piles of used pregnancy tests to no avail. Dare I try to get another favor out of her?
“By the way, would you mind cleaning up a little while I’m gone? It’s getting hard to walk in here…”
“After I’m done finger painting.”
“That’s what you said last time.”
“Yeah, because I’m still finger painting.”
“Ashely…” I stand my ground and hope she caves without a fuss. Instead, she begins sulking while kicking peed-on plastic around the tile floor. What a child…
“If you’re going to kick them around, at least kick them into a corner away from the shower…”
“After I’m done finger painting!”
Whatever, I’m not arguing with her. As long as I don’t slip and crack my head open on one of them, I’ll let it go for the time being; and for the sake of my family jewels, I’d rather not have her in a pissy mood later tonight. I’m not the only one that’s rough.
“Fine… After you’re done finger painting..”
The shower’s stream recedes, stranding me in the bathroom’s cold, stagnant air. To my amusement, Ashley’s playing with her latest pregnancy test like an action figure — a superhero that refuses to save us from the burden of infertility. With a chuckle and a fluffy towel, I wrap myself in its cozy embrace and head for the walk-in closet.
Searching through my little corner of worn and torn shirts, I manage to find a collared one that still fits me like the old, slightly stained glove that it is. After throwing on a pair of tight cargo shorts and trusty sneakers, I… look at the bed and remember the laundry; hell, I still need to take my business suit to the dry cleaners before Monday. If only a certain someone would be willing—
“I can do that,” Ashley says walking up behind me, “and about your suit… I might be able to squeeze that in between finger-painting sessions — when my creative genius has to rest, of course.” She throws me a wink and a kiss on the cheek — for good measure, of course.
“If I wasn’t such a sucker for Dick’s martinis, I’d slam you against the wall right now.”
“Hehe… I know.” She slaps my ass and wraps her left arm around my waist. “Ah, ah, before you go, promise me you’ll be back before dinner, dear.”
“Yes, dear. I’ll leave my cell on in case you need anything.”
“Good. Tell Dick I said ‘hi’!”
I’m freed from her hold, tonguing each other goodbye as my problems momentarily melt away.
5
Surrounded by pointed pine trees and lavish lake houses, I pull into Dick’s driveway and park next to his glossy Bentley. Beams of orange sunlight dance between flowing branches as my presence disturbs a pair of humping rabbits near his front door. Knowing him, he’s probably sitting on his elevated deck smoking a cigar and sipping on whisky, but I’ll be courteous and use the entrance. We’re good pals, but we’re not “my backyard is your backyard” pals.
A soft chime rings from the doorbell, causing a pitter-patter of excited steps to approach me. They’re here, aren’t they?
“Ehehehe! I’m gonna get to him first!” an all too familiar voice yells from within the house. I form a martini-sipping grin knowing all too well what’s about to occur. Aside from my manners, there was another possible reason why I wanted to use the entrance.
“Don’t push me, you brat!” a slightly deeper, yet still feminine voice cries out near the door. Their loud, chaotic movements cause my anticipation to grow with every nearing step.
Without warning, the front door flies open to the sight of two little girls sporting frilly two-piece bathing suits. Their glowing smiles are a sight for my childless eyes — even more so when they crash into me, hugging my waist as they fight for affection.
“Jeez… You’re gonna make an old man fall! How are you two?”
“I’m good; she’s causing trouble for dad.”
“Nu-huh! She’s causing trouble!”
As they endlessly bicker, my mind drifts into their tender voices while my body embraces each loving touch. To be brutally honest, I don’t really care how they are. The only thing I care about is that they’re here, teasing me with the life I’ve been robbed of. If all else fails, I pray they’ll continue to hold me in their small arms with their big smiles.
“So… I’m assuming your father is on the deck?”
“Yeah, he went out right before you got here. Wanna see him?”
“Well, that is why I drove all the way here…”
“Hehe… You didn’t drive here for us?”
“...Okay, you got me. But as much as I love seeing both of you, I need to talk to him about some important adult stuff. Would you two mind walking me to the deck?”
“Here, I’ll walk you to the deck. Clair, would you be a doll and fetch us a mantini?”
“It’s martini, stupid. Mike, don’t listen to her — she’s being ingorant.”
Death by a thousand cute missayings, I tell you. Before they can continue playing with my heart, I step inside — basking in the cool breeze flowing through the open windows — and head for the deck. The little ones hold my hands all the way there.
“Well… Look what my girls dragged in. What’s new with you?” Dick teases with a cigar lodged between his lips, smoke vanishing above a nearby whisky served on perfectly round rocks. Like usual, he’s lounging in a Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts — a man’s second and third best friends.
“...We need to talk.”
“Yeah, I can tell. Girls, make this poor man a martini, please.”
Without hesitation, both of them run inside giggling at one another. I look at Dick like he just told them to make a nuclear bomb.
“They’re going to make me a martini? That’s new…”
“What? It’s a valuable life skill. And if you’re worried about how it’ll taste, don’t be. They were taught from the best, after all.”
Clouds of cherry-laced smoke fill the air as he triumphantly sucks on his “adult lollipop,” as he once told Clair and Samantha. There are times when I genuinely can’t tell if he’s a positive influence or just an influence — and this is one of those times.
“Oh, where are my manners? Cigar?”
An ornate cigar case studded with decorative jewels — real jewels — is thrust toward me. Even after knowing the guy for over a year, I still have no idea how he amassed so much wealth in such a short amount of time. According to him, after about five years in “the business,” he was able to comfortably retire in his mid-thirties — “the business” being a job where he “helped children in need.” And just like that, he’s now disgustingly rich with nothing better to do than buy lake houses and smoke cigars all day.
“I’m good…”
“Suit yourself. So, what’s on your mind? And please, don’t be a stranger.” He gestures at a lounge chair beside him. I oblige and recline on its cushy leather.
“Do you remember our talk from last week?”
“Sure. What’s wifey up to this time?”
“Well… She’s apparently talking to someone now — a woman with weird hair braids. And I guess this person also follows her around both inside and outside the house, discussing pregnancy and a hypothetical future child; it’s probably the stuffed bear in the guest room, to be honest. Oh, and the pregnancy tests are still piling up in the bathroom and the stack of drawings and coloring books in our bedroom is getting bigger and she’s probably finger painting as we speak—”
“Mike… Can I ask you a question?”
“Hm? Yeah, go ahead.”
“Just what in the actual fuck is happening at your house?”
My thoughts immediately freeze trying to process the question. I feel like every single neuron is powering down, their electricity draining to my toes before being forced out into the air and fading away.
“I don’t mean to sound like a dick, but when are you going to get your head out of your ass? In one year, Ashely has quit her job, ignored her responsibilities, and now does nothing all day except live vicariously through her non-existent child. How long are you going to wait to do something about this?”
I have no response other than a dejected stare across the lake. Even though it may not look like it, my attention is keenly attuned to the man lounging next to me, both his sharp words and cold eyes piercing straight through me.
“...Michael—”
That’s all it takes. Tears flow and settle on my quivering lips as profound sorrow rushes through me — my emotions welling before bursting forth. I lean upright from my lounge and slouch forward, covering my face from the world.
“I-I don’t know what to do anymore… Dick, we’ve tried everything: monitoring ovulation cycles, checking her periods, genetic testing, hormone testing, medications, surgeries, IVF, ICSI — everything! Every fucking thing those doctors told us, we’ve done! A-And you wanna know what the best part is? Apparently, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with her eggs or my sperm! By all accounts, she should’ve gotten pregnant ten times over by now! And yet, all we hear from those ‘medical professionals’ is that they couldn’t find any ‘abnormalities’ or ‘anomalies.’ I feel like I’m losing my mind over here!”
A hand glides onto my back and rubs in circular motions. I barely stave off the urge to slap it away and never return, forever hiding under the freshly washed blankets in my house of horrors. Instead, I continue to wallow while a pair of small steps return to the deck. Why do they have to see me like this?
“Give it to me…” Dick whispers before my curiosity overwrites my embarrassment and forces me to peek at my audience. Samantha and Clair stand speechless, staring at me with the same sadness dripping from my hands. I can’t bear to look at them.
“Do you still want your drink? It might take the edge off a little…”
At my wit’s end, I snatch the slender glass and take a sip from its chilled rim. It’s… Good. Excellent, in fact — easily the best I’ve ever had. There’s something about its impeccable smoothness and intoxicating flavor that I can’t get enough of. Did two children really make this?
“Good, isn’t it? An old friend taught me that. Heh… I wonder what that slick son of a bitch is up to these days? Probably still taking care of kittens in paradise…”
“Whatever he’s doing, do you mind sharing the recipe? I could sip on this all day…”
“That, my friend, is a trade secret. And no, not even my girls will tell you, isn’t that right?”
“Our lips are sealed!” Clair closes an invisible zipper across her lips and throws it my way with a wink. I pretend to catch it as she whispers something to Samantha, both giggling with mischievous smirks.
“Anyway, I get how much you and Ashley want a child, but this is getting out of hand. It’s clear all of this is taking an emotional toll on her — and it’s not getting any better. …She needs help, Mike.”
I know he’s right, but it’s just… hard to accept. How did any of this happen? It seems like only yesterday she was a normal, functioning member of society until we started trying for a baby. Something went wrong somewhere, but I can’t pinpoint exactly where it went wrong.
“Think about it like this: The more you ignore it, the worse it’s going to get; and the worse it gets, the more you’re going to ignore it. If I were you, I’d sit her down and have a nice, long chat about the future of your marriage. I’d also get a shrink involved — tell ‘em she needs some pills. They’re pretty responsive to that.”
The two troublemakers fidget as much as I do, eyeing their dad like a pair of kittens. I’ve been around long enough to know that look — the one that screams, “Can we go now?” After all, they do have their swimsuits on.
“....Yes, you can play in the lake now. Just be careful—”
They immediately sprint down the wooden stairs and race across the backyard. Before long, they’re splashing and wrestling each other in the lake’s shallow end near a small dock. We watch with fatherly joy.
“...Hey, can I ask a personal question?” Dick takes a long drag of his cigar before responding.
“Ask away.”
“Why did you decide to have children?
“Hmm… Well, I mostly did it because my ex-bitch wanted them. Though to be honest, I was also bored smokin’ cigars and sippin’ ‘tinis all day. Granted, I still do all that — except now I have two demons to take care of.”
“...So you did it because you were bored?”
“Pretty much.”
Clair tackles Samantha, pinning her down with a contagious laugh. My ears tingle from their joy.
“You don’t seem too impressed by that answer. Am I right?”
“I guess I was expecting something different. Like, I don’t know, you had children to continue your bloodline… or because it’s your biological duty… or because you’re invested in the next generation... Something like that.”
“Yeah, that’s what they all say. How noble people become when they have children…”
A derisive smirk creeps across his face. I didn’t know he was this cynical…
“By the way… didn’t you say something about hair braids earlier?” Dick’s tone is oddly somber as if Ashley’s delusions should be seriously considered. I wouldn’t put it past him to screw with me.
“Yeah… Why?”
“...Never mind. Just make sure to talk to her soon.”
“Hold on, what were you going to say? You’re not going to tell me an actual person is stalking my wife, right?”
Before Dick can speak, a loud wail rattles him to action. Almost tripping, he sprints down the stairs and approaches a bleeding Clair holding her forehead. Twinkles of sunlight glisten off the lake as he cradles her head, the sun’s daily fall reflected in its still waters.
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6
“I’m home!”
No response. I’d yell again, but the kitchen’s distant glow compels my curiosity instead. It also doesn’t help that my inner Pavlov dog is salivating from the savory scent of grease-stained cardboard and salty dough. Oh, you shouldn’t have.
Entering the kitchen, I’m greeted by warm mood lighting and our small dining table set with candles, a bottle of white wine, and ornate silverware — each flickering flame enhanced by the romantic ambiance. And then there’s Ashley wearing an oversized shirt without pants, opening a large pizza box on the nearby countertop. After witnessing Clair’s accident, this is just the type of silliness I needed.
“You should’ve told me it was date night,” I tease as Ashley closes the box, revealing a seductive smirk.
“I thought you were in the mood for surprises, so I threw this together. Too romantic?”
“It could use a five-course meal and some lingerie, but I guess this’ll work.
“You guess? …Would this help?”
She struts over and locks lips, wrapping her arms around my neck as we slowly kiss. Her pace is tame and calm — a far cry from last night’s desperation. Considering she’s in a much more mature mood, I have to wonder if her pregnancy test read positive? …Am I finally going to be a father? I am, aren’t I?
“God… I love you so much.” I assault her neck with loving pecks, tickling her into a heartwarming chuckle. At last, the nightmare is over.
“Hehe… Mike, the pizza’s going cold. Why don’t you sit down while I get you a slice?”
“If you insist...”
Normally, the chair’s stiff cushion and metal back would irritate me, but tonight? Tonight, it feels like a pillow sent straight from heaven. I sink into the soft seat and watch as she serves me: two slices for yours truly and a slice for the madame.
“I ordered your favorite: extra cheese with stuffed crust. You’re welcome.”
“What would I do without you?” Coined as a “me thing” by Ashely, I bite into the stuffed crust before savoring the four cheeses stacked high on the pie. She may tease me for “eating pizza wrong,” but I’ve never seen a handbook before. Of course, this is coming from the same woman who folds her pizza like a burrito…
“So… Do you have any good news for me?”
“Good news? Hmm… I wonder…” Grease droplets sprinkle onto her plate as she folds gooey cheese. From the playful look in her eyes, I can tell she’s enjoying every second of her teasing.
“You know… Any positive news?”
“Positive news? Well, I guess something positive did happen today…”
I’m practically falling off my seat. My anticipation has reached an overwhelming climax, sending my heart racing with uncontrollable excitement. I watch as her lips part, a preparatory smirk bending mine.
“I finished my finger painting today!”
Haha… Calm down, Mike. Remember, she’s still toying with you. Just be direct about it.
“T-That’s great, dear! But I was talking about your pregnancy test. Was it positive?”
“Oh, that? Nope!”
Despair and disappointment roll off her tongue and begin to seep into my very being. She must be going for the long con; she must be!
“Heh… Ashley, the jig is up. I know what you’re trying to do.”
“...Mike, I’m not tricking you,” a sincere expression of puzzlement warps her face, “I’m not pregnant.”
Silent grief crushes every bit of accumulated hope. I’m left as puzzled as her — a barrage of questions battering me.
“Oh, sweetie, I know it’s tough... But here’s the good news: I talked to her when you were in the shower. She promised it’ll happen soon.”
“...You what?”
“I talked to that lady. You know, the one I told you about… Honestly, I’m a bit surprised you didn’t notice her. At one point, she even stepped into the shower with you.”
No words can describe my frustration. The only comfort I can cling to is knowing tonight’s rest will be in clean sheets. And if I’m lucky, maybe my suit will get a couple of compliments on Monday.
“We’ll just… have to keep trying, then. By the way, when should I go to the dry cleaners tomorrow?”
“Oh, I didn’t get time to do that.”
“...You didn’t get time?”
“Like I said, I finished my finger painting. The sheets also still need to be cleaned.”
For a moment — a mere, solitary moment — I resign myself to apathetic acceptance, until — to the absolute horror of my rapidly fading rationality — a rage wells within me. It’s the sort of unrestrained, primal rage that has fought every war, slit every throat, and tortured every soul. In my desperation, I glance around, trying to find something — anything — to take my anger out on. Should I punch a hole through a wall, shattering my hand? Should I whip the nearest wine bottle across the kitchen, shattering its form? Should I—
“—fuck me like an animal. Mike… I want you to fuck me like an animal.”
During my rage, Ashely got up and crept to my side. Her lips are now pushed against my ear, whispering desires with a wicked grin as images of rabbits flash before me. Oh, I get it now — she did this all on purpose. That lady must’ve “told” her to provoke me. It was all a setup…
“...Did you hear me—”
I grab her throat and guide her to the countertop. Along the way, her shirt is thrown to the floor, revealing she was wearing nothing underneath. The sights of her perky nipples, bare butt, and swaying hips are just enough to inflate my lust by the time I bend her over the marbled granite. Slowly — almost meticulously — I undress in front of her swaying butt, a strand of natural lubricant elongating from her lips down her thighs with each teasing movement.
“Haa… Ahh… Haa… Ahh…” There’s nothing to be said anymore. All she needs to hear is my short breaths to spread her butt and pant with me, cocking her head to the side and staring — begging — for me to penetrate her. I have no choice other than to comply.
“Ha… Ah… Ha… Ah…”
My breathing accelerates as I grab both of her arms and lay them on the countertop. With Ashley in position — her body ready to be ravaged — I hunch over her back, wrap my arms around her stomach, and, with one powerful thrust, breach her slit and slam into her cervix. She trembles and squirms as I hold position, making me growl as I slide halfway out before pounding her again. Repeatedly, I indulge in these slow, brutal thrusts until my penis is painfully erect and drenched tip to shaft in a sticky solution of precum and lubricant.
“Haaaa…. Ahhhh…. Haaaa…”
By now, Michael is growling through his teeth — a wild animal about to satisfy his carnal lust, his mate to be impregnated no matter what. Every moral consideration has left him besides an instinctual aversion to death and the infliction of it on his partner. Nor has his intellect remained, only a shred of it utilized for deducing the fittest way of penetrating her. Without a doubt, there is nothing impeding him from his goal — and Michael is going to make sure he’ll succeed. For he has decided that tonight will be the night he becomes a father to the family he needs.
Starting slow, Michael’s hips fall into a predictable rhythm of gentle penetration. However, this won’t last long, as he has no intention of being gentle; in fact, he’ll be as rough as he pleases. After all, it’s not like Ashely can escape his tight hold even if she tried. If push comes to shove, her body will have to endure whatever he decides will make him ejaculate the hardest — a mating without restraint.
Before long, he begins to speed up in increments, intuitively understanding that a gradual exertion will allow his body to manage what he’s about to inflict. Ashley is none the wiser to the force he’s planning to unleash for the sake of offspring; all she expects is a repeat of last night’s rough but manageable string of inseminations.
After reaching a swift pace, Michael is flooded with enough adrenaline to fuel his sexual appetite. Without warning, he gropes her breasts, sinks his teeth into her back, and begins mercilessly pounding her. Ashley’s legs tremble uncontrollably and, within seconds, buckle under his force. To say Michael is livid is an understatement.
Trying to prop her up, his inner elbow restrains her throat while his right hand fingers her mouth, arching her torso back and ramming into her as hard as he can. Ashley is barely cognizant of her surroundings, dazed into a euphoric trance that edges her to the brink of a powerful orgasm. With each new thrust, their loud skin slaps morph into watery pumps as her vaginal walls attempt to force Michael out.
Spurts of fluid flow from Ashely’s quivering thighs and flood the floor. The almost unbearable sensation compels her to pull Michael’s hair and bite his fingers — guttural grunts of pain echoing throughout the house before being replaced by loud movements. Still penetrating her, he throws her to the floor, props her butt in the air, and clutches her torso with brute strength. A fleeting sense of happiness graces his mind, a primal part of him knowing this position allows a deep mount to her cervix.
Michael’s body is starting to ache, but his building ejaculation affords enough motivation to ignore any screaming joints or heart palpitations. As for Ashley, her body has succumbed to his lust and is squeezing him as tight as he is to her — their bodies practically glued together. By now, the pizza has grown cold in the heat of their mating.
“HA, HA, HA, HA!”
Heavy pants accompany Michael’s climax. With one more string of forceful thrusts, his waist smothers her butt — penis lodged in the depths of her vagina — and ejaculates so hard he almost passes out. For at least a minute, they remain in position: his scrotum bobbing and fidgeting while Ashley’s legs squirm with her short whimpers. A ring of semen pools between the circumference of her opening and his throbbing penis, a testament to their efforts.
Once satisfied, he pulls out — ejecting a build-up of semen — and collapses on top of her. His awareness slowly returns, the burning emotion he had accumulated receding into the annals of the past. Now, there is no more rage — only sorrow and loathing.
Tears well up and plummet as I quietly sob into Ashely’s back. I don’t even understand why I’m crying — I just am; a-and I feel gross and embarrassed and disgusting and I don’t understand why I feel like this either! I just… don’t understand why. Why can’t we have a child? Why is this happening to us? Please, someone tell me why!—
…An eye. A single eye breaches the darkness, partially concealing its gaze behind the entryway. Try as I might, no amount of logic or reason can explain how… radiant it is. My brain reacts to the impossibility like an optical illusion, forcing me to repeatedly blink and focus the anomaly out of existence. Yet no matter how many times I try, it quickly becomes clear something is staring back at me. …This can’t be real. It’s another apparition of this nightmare, isn’t it?
“...Ashley.”
“Again…” Ashley murmurs still facing the floor, “Do it again—”
“Someone’s staring at us.”
Ashley lifts her head and immediately notices the presence in the other room. I brace for her to scream, but she instead beams at the eye with a friendly smile.
“Oh, that’s her! I guess you can see her now.”
“...What?”
“Remember what I told you? It looks like she’s ready to introduce herself. Why don’t you go over and make her feel at home?”
Dumbfounded, I lift from Ashley and freeze in the eye’s gaze. A flurry of terrifying hypotheticals rushes through my mind, all ending in our lives being snuffed in this spot. No… This thing isn’t here for pleasantries; it’s here to torment us! The number “911” overcomes me, animating my body to the cell phone lying in my shorts. Step by step, I creep closer until I’m reaching into the fabric pocket, the eye’s cloudy pupil following my every move.
“911, what’s your emergency—”
“There’s someone in our house. Please, send help right away.”
“I understand. Are you currently in a safe place?”
As if on cue, the eye vanishes without a trace. Not a single sound or movement is made — a relieving yet terrifying sight.
“I-I don’t know. They just went somewhere.”
“Okay, sir, help is on the way. If you can, stay quiet, find a place to hide, and only open doors for law enforcement. Do you know what the intruder looks like?”
“Why are you calling the police?” Ashley interrupts while putting on her shirt, “She’s not here to hurt us…”
“She has hair braids. The intruder’s a woman, and she has hair braids. That’s all I know.” My intuition ignores Ashley’s question.
“...Sir, could you repeat that?”
“The intruder’s a woman with hair braids. I wasn’t able to get a good look, so that’s all I know.”
The dispatcher falls silent, leaving me puzzled with my encroaching dread. Figments of Dick’s voice replay through my ruminating thoughts the longer silence talks to me.
“...I understand.”
The call abruptly ends.
7
7:45 p.m. It’s only been five minutes since the dispatcher hung up on me, but every second lingers like stale cigarette smoke. The painstaking ticking of the kitchen’s analog clock is a grating reminder of our situation, even if our speedy after-sex clean-up felt like a typical Friday night. Now we wait with our backs against an abandoned corner near the dining table, Ashley hugging and swaying my trembling body.
“Shh… It’s okay, Mike. I was scared at first too, but I promise there’s nothing to worry about. She’ll help us be a family.”
I’m too shocked to respond. The only thing keeping me from losing it is the mesmerizing candlelight flickering my attention around — tugging and pulling the horror away, if only for a brief moment. There’s a certain tranquility in knowing our space hasn’t been touched by that monster, its presence confined to the depths of the living room.
It’s also calming to know this is all a nightmare. Sooner or later, I’ll wake up—
“...That must be them. We should probably go together,” Ashley says as the doorbell’s soothing tone whispers soft affirmations of safety. Hand in hand, we walk to the front hall and open the door.
“Good evening! We received a report of an intruder. If you would be so kind, could you two step outside for a second while my team searches inside? We’ll let you get back to your evening shortly.”
I stand bewildered at the middle-aged woman before us, her hand gesturing for our cooperation while men-in-black — walking shadows in the night’s darkness — circle the house with unidentifiable weaponry. Aside from tinted, unmarked vans, there isn’t a police uniform or cop car in sight.
“Hold on… Who are you? Where’s the police?” My questions prompt a friendly, forced smile from the woman. A pair of professionally dressed men approach us with emotionless glares.
“Here, why don’t we talk on the sidewalk? My men will be in and out before you know it. You’re coming too, right ma’am?”
The woman grips my hand and stares at Ashley with the physical equivalent of an ultimatum. Ashley quickly follows once she realizes her question is less of an inquiry and more of a thinly veiled demand. Our obedience leads us across the yard and onto the chalk-ridden pavement — childish drawings and hopscotch squares surrounding our feet.
“Sorry about the inconvenience. Anyway, we’re a newly formed police unit — R.T.P. for short — specializing in trespassing. I’m surprised you haven’t heard anything about us — we’re practically famous on the local news!” A phony chuckle is directed my way. Everything about this woman, from her out-of-place business attire to her unnatural mannerisms, screams “fake.” The longer she plays her persona, the more annoying and unnerving it becomes.
“Really? I haven’t seen anything on the news… What does R.T.P. stand for, anyway?”
“Rochester Trespassing Program. Even here in the ‘burbs, it seems you can’t trust folks to be friendly anymore. …It seems like you can’t trust anyone anymore.”
“...Does that include you?” She pauses at my question, her face dimly illuminated by the orange hue of a nearby street light. Not once has she made eye contact with me on this sidewalk — my existence ignored for the mysterious men prowling between our windows.
“Tell me… What were you two doing before you called 911?”
“Having dinner. Why?”
“Anything else?”
“No… You still haven’t answered my question—”
“You reek of sex.” Her eyes lock onto mine, a truly alarming look. My hypocrisy threatens to smother me.
“...I can see the desperation in your eyes. You were trying to conceive, weren’t you?—”
“Do you mind?” Ashley interrupts her lecture with an equally threatening stare. Like predators competing for prey, their silent aggression simmers with tension as I anticipate a boiling point of violence. But before anything can occur, the woman places her hand on her ear and releases a soft sigh.
“The intruder ran off before we could nab her…” The woman’s trailing words are immediately followed by ten men exiting our house and returning to their vans, with one of them confronting and whispering something into her ear. With a nod, the man enters the nearest van and speeds away.
“We thank you for your cooperation. Have a good night!”
After one final door slam, the last van races out of the driveway and follows the same route. Ashley and I watch as it fades into the darkness, my terror fading into a profound fatigue.
“...Now what?” I hug Ashley and kiss her forehead.
“Now, I’m going to wake from this nightmare.”
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8
Since that night, we have yet to be terrorized by that… thing again. Whether it was actually real or just a figment of my post-ejaculatory imagination is anyone’s guess. And honestly, I’d rather not find out. To poke and prod at the unknown is as grave of a mistake as purchasing an RV. After all, as a famous author once said, the most merciful thing in the world is… uh… our ability to drive on the black road of the finite, or something like that.
About a week after that woman greeted us good night, our plastic hero finally put on his second red mask and saved us from infertility. Sure, we were practically dead cats dangling from a tree when he swooped in, but better late than never, am I right? To this day, I still vividly remember the moment Ashley held up her pregnancy test as I swept her into my arms, giving her the longest kiss of her life. I later gave her the longest dicking of her life, but that’s a given.
Now here we are, a year and one baby girl later, walking to the front door of a familiar lake house for a BBQ with plenty of adult lollipops and ‘tinis. To be able to share this moment with my wife, who eventually got the help she needed, is a feeling I’ll never get over. What more could a man dream of?
“Ah, there she is! Come in, come in!” Dick helps himself and grabs our bundle of joy out of Ashley’s hands. Great, he’s one of these people…
“We’re taking her with us, you know,” I tease with a grin. Ashley chuckles at my comedy routine while Dick cradles and softly kisses her tiny head. Didn’t he hear what I just said?
“She’s beautiful… What’s her name?”
“Chloe,” we answer simultaneously. All three of us giggle like the big children we are. Speaking of…
“So… Where are the little demons?” Dick cocks his head toward the deck.
“Out on the deck sunbathing. If you ask nicely, maybe they’ll make a martini for you.” From the corner of my eye, I catch Ashley glaring at me like I want them to make a nuclear bomb. Oh, sweetie…
“...What? It’s a valuable life skill. If you don’t believe me, you should ask them to make you one too,” I partially joke hoping my comedy routine turns into a magic show. And abracadabra, she’s not mad!
“Uh-huh… Anyway, I’m excited to see the lake. I’ve… uh… never been to a lake house before…” Ashley was sheltered as a child. Not that it matters, but it’s cute watching her explore the world with as much curiosity as Chloe will. In a more natural way, she’s still retained a little of her “pre-natal psychosis,” as her psychiatrist put it.
“Of course! Here, follow me,” Dick says as he walks away with Chloe. Ashley and I flash each other approving smiles and follow him to the deck.
“Girls, our guests have arrived. Look who they brought with them!” Laying face down in the same frilly swimsuits, both lift their heads and beam at Chloe with childish glee. Surely Dick has the common sense not to hand them—
“Her name is Chloe. Clair, you can hold her first.” Clair glances at me, my eyes silently saying, “You’re holding a piece of uranium. Don’t drop it.” I’m sure she already knows, but it’s for good measure, of course.
“Aww… She’s so cute! I wanna have a baby!” Clair’s protest allows Samantha an opportunity to snatch Chloe into her arms, giving me a small heart attack. Uh, Dick, would it kill you to be a parent right now?
“Haha… Careful, girls,” I add in the gentlest tone possible. Trust me, I’d love to yell and swipe Chloe back, but—
“Clair, Samantha, why don’t the two of you make Mike and I a martini? And when you get back, I’ll let you hold Chloe as much as you want. Does that sound good?” Ashley interrupts my thoughts with the most cunning string of words I’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing. Oh, you sly woman…
“Really? Okay!” Samantha hands Chloe back and rushes inside with Clair. Before disappearing into the kitchen, they turn around and glare at me. Subdued whispers and muffled snickers sneak from their grins until I’m left staring into the void. I don’t know why, but something about their expressions was… eerie — not in a playful way, either. It’s hard to explain, but they didn’t look like children.
“Heh… I guess I got as excited as they did — sorry about that,” Dick apologizes with a guilty arm rub, “To make it up to you, how about this: Why don’t I take the two of you on a tour? You know, around the house and on the lake… You’re fine with that, right Ashley?”
“Oh, you know I’d love that. …If you don’t mind, could we start with the lake? I wanna dip my toes in…” I can’t help but smirk. Still a child at heart…
“I was hoping you’d say that! Right this way.”
Dick leads us to the deck’s stairs and gives the universal “ladies first” gesture. He’s really putting on a show, huh—
In a single moment, Ashley stumbles on the first step and tumbles down the stairs. Midfall, she attempts to protect Chloe, only to lose her grip and crush our daughter — our only daughter — on the way down. There are no cries, no screams, no wails — only blood and bits of brain matter scattered and smeared at the stair’s bottom.
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I’m sweating.
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I’m sweating on these filthy, cum-encrusted sheets in this suffocating room — this room of crazed clutter and mounting madness; a room that was once our room, a relaxing space where I’d dream of baby bibs and comforting cribs, tiny feet and fluffy sheets; a room where every night, I’d check under their bed and in their closet for monsters — deformed creatures that only exist in overactive imaginations and childish nightmares.
…But that’s not right, is it? No… Of course it’s not right. Because I can hear Ashley giggling with a monster from our child’s room. We’ve put so much effort into it… Painting the walls, picking out furniture, assembling the crib… But now? Now it’s been touched by her, just like the living room and the bathroom and our room and… and… Where else? Where else in this house has she crept, staring at me in silence? If she can freely move around, then—159Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡf6NodVPT7s
“Hehehehehehe… Delta, stop! You’re gonna wake Mike!”
…Everywhere. Ha… S-She’s been everywhere, hasn’t she? In every closet and under every bed, she’s hidden from us — always watching, always listening. Always and everywhere, a presence with unknown intentions luring us into pregnancy.
“Hehe… Yeah, I hope it’s a girl too. I bet Mike would love a baby girl…”
Wait… She’s after my child, isn’t she? …That’s it. She’s here to trick us into doing what she wants! She wants to torment my child! It all makes sense now! Ha! Did you think you could trick me!? Ha… hahahaha!— I WON’T LET YOU HURT HER.
Without a sound, I slowly reach behind the bed and grope a long, sleek barrel — its freezing metal sends tingles of excitement up my trembling arm. And then… I pull the rest of it out and place its stock on my crotch, teasing the tip of its trigger with my middle finger. I can already imagine it now… Ehehehe! I’m gonna walk into that room, shove the barrel in her mouth, and… BOOM! Oh, she’ll be everywhere, alright; her head will be everywhere and she’ll be nowhere, just as monsters should be.
The mattress makes a soft groan as I sneak off it. Time seems to freeze and then resume once Ashley giggles again — her bewitching laugh carrying me through the dark hallway right before a seam of radiant light. My eyes follow it to an ajar entrance, the door to our child’s room. Barely able to contain myself, I undo the safety— oh… It’s already off. Well, I guess that makes sense — I did fondle you on one particularly bad night. …Let’s make this a good night, alright?
With a single kick, the door flies open and I rush inside… What the hell is this?
“...Honey? Hehe… I told you we were being too loud,” a nude Ashley mumbles playing with her socks. My attention falls on the stranger sitting behind her.
“Hey, you’re not supposed to be playing with guns,” Ashley teases with an unsettling tone, “You’ll shoot your eye out!”
A woman. There’s a woman in a white dress, and she was fingering and kissing my wife. Both stare motionless in the giant teddy bear’s arms. I aim at her.
“Aw, don’t be like that. Don’t you want to meet—” Ashley is cut short by the woman’s movements. Without a hint of fear, she stands up, walks in front of me, angles the barrel in her mouth, and begins slowly stroking the shaft. All the while, she stares directly at me with an irresistible gaze, my very being somehow ripping from the fleshy fabric of myself — an out-of-body experience that causes me to fall — literally fall — into her cloudy eyes. Overwhelming panic attempts to steer me away from her, but my body refuses to move anymore. I’m going to be swallowed whole.
By the time Michael regains awareness, his body has reverted to the womb — a fetal position next to the couple’s crib clutching his shotgun like a blankie. The trauma he experienced transcends language, yet he smiles with tears of desperation. More than anything, he desires to father Ashley’s children; but even more than that, he desires to rape and impregnate the woman in the white dress.
Before he can pounce on top of me, I break the news.
“You’re going to be a family man, Michael.”
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