Super Fetus Read online

  Adam Pepper

  SUPER FETUS

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This is not intended as a social statement. People read this story and often ask me if this is an anti-abortion piece. It is not. Others ask me if this is supposed to be a satirical pro-choice piece. Nope. No political agenda here, friends. Others have told me this story offends and upsets them. I can accept that, but I didn’t write this story simply to offend. I wrote this story because I thought it was good wholesome American fun and because it occurred to me that there simply aren’t enough positive role models for our young, developing foetuses today.

  Enjoy!

  A.P.

  ONE

  I think mommy wants me out of here. She keeps muttering, whining, bitching and moaning. Complain, complain, complain, like a two-year-old-to any poor sap who’ll listen.

  “My feet hurt!” I hear her say. I can feel her squat while trying vainly to rub her swollen toes. “God! How am I gonna sque­eze those humongous things into my shoes.”

  Oh, please, Mother. Get over it.

  “My stomach hurts!” she groans while rubbing her aching belly and belching like a truck driver after downing a six of Old Milwaukee. “My waist used to be twenty-five inc­hes.”

  Yeah, okay, Mommy. When you were like fourteen, maybe.

  “My ass is fat!” she whines while pinching the ripples of her own ass with her bloated thumb and forefinger, then shaking the unsightly flab up and down, as if that’ll somehow magically make her blubber-packed bottom shrink. “If this wedgee goes any further up my butt, I am going to freak. It’s disgusting! And I am not getting into those giant maternity underwears.”

  All she does is comp­lain!

  “I have to pee again,” she sighs, then scampers to the bathroom, sque­ezing her insides together so as not to have an accident. I can feel her thighs squinching together to the point that I’m getting a serio­us headache.

  “I’m hungry again,” she says at least five times a day, then raids the fridge of anything and everything, depending on the craving of the moment; could be ice cream, could be sardines; could be pickles, could be grape jam. Sometimes it’s none of the above. Other times it’s all of the above, slapped onto a potato roll and devoured in four bites, tops. Which is followed by the inevitable lament, “I ate too much again.” And then, of course, the ensuing tummy rubs, more belching, and more farting. She’s such a lady, my mom. She’s so dainty.

  Wah. Wah. Wah. Bitch. Bitch. Bitch. Moan. Whine. Complain. Over and over and over again. For ten fucking months now I’ve been listening to this!

  As annoying and irritating as it is, the constant bitching I can deal with. Don’t get me wrong, it drives me up the wall, but I can tolerate it. It’s not like I have anywhere to go. I can’t just turn the radio up and ignore her either. But like I said, I can accept the whining. But the sobbing fits. These hour long stints locked in the bathroom, Mother consumed with her self pity. Those kill me. “Goddamn it, why am I pregnant.” Duh! Do you need a biology lesson, Mother? Or perhaps you need to brush up on your anatomy. And then, “Why me, God?” That one always pisses me off. And worst of all, “Why is this happening to me?” That one really hurts. Doesn’t she know I’m her child? All she can think about is herself… that miserable bitch!

  I think mommy wants me out of here. But I ain’t going any­where.

  Wah. Wah. Wah. “My feet hurt.” Wah. Wah. Wah. “My ass is fat.” Wah. Wah. Wah. “My boobs are huge.”

  It never fucking ends! She constantly cries. Who’s the baby here?

  Wah. Wah. Wah. “I’m hungry.” Wah. Wah. Wah. “My back hurts.” Wah. Wah. Wah. “I have to pee again.”

  A broken fucking record. She’s as predictable as a game of tic tac toe and her bladder’s as hyperactive as a Special Ed kid who spit out his Ritalin when no one was looking.

  I think mommy wants me out of here. But I ain’t leaving!

  Ten months and counting… and I’m here to stay.

  TWO

  “It can’t be!” Sue Ellen sque­ezed her eyelids shut, then opened them again. There was no way. It wasn’t freakin’ possible. She blinked, and blinked again. But the damn thing wouldn’t change.

  “Fucking positive! How can it be fucking positive?”

  Last night she’d gone to Rierson’s Drug Store and bought three different home tests. First thing this morning, she’d balanced over the bowl, teetering like a drunken hobo on a busted seesaw, straining like hell to make sure she didn’t miss the stick with that first morning urine. What a nightmare that’d be; then she’d have to spend another twenty-four hours in god-awful suspense. They all said the same thing: positive. She was pregnant.

  “It’s just not possible,” Sue Ellen kept telling herself, but the dipstick don’t lie. She slammed down the lid-a painful mistake as the noise of plastic smacking porcelain felt like a waffle skillet had been slammed shut on her skull-then sat down on the toilet seat and put her head in her hands. She rubbed her throbbing temples, trying her best to ignore the racket coming from the other side of the bathroom door.

  “Holy mother of God… I’ve been knocked up again.”

  Sue Ellen paused, staring at the mouldy off-white tiles of her bathroom floor, trying to find an answer. Could she really be pregnant with another snot-nosed, sass back, drive-me-up-the-wall, rob me of my youth and bea­uty, pain in the mother lovin’ ass, kid?

  Hell no.

  Another kid! How could this have happened? She’d been down this road: three kids in four years, with three different fellas. Here she was, four years since Elie-Dre’d been born, looking to start all over again. The swollen hands and feet. The cravings. The weight. The delivery… lord help her the delivery!

  Sue Ellen stood up and reached into the shower, turning the hot water knob as far to the left as it would go. She wanted her troubles to fade the same way her refection did in a coat of steam that quickly covered the mirror. But when she wiped the mirror, the same pissed-off, sad face was still staring back at her.

  She slid the shower curtain to the side, about to get into the hot shower, but she just couldn’t shut out the outside world any longer.

  “Momma! Open up! Open up, Momma!” The voice on the other side of the door was hollering and banging away at the door with an open hand. “Open up! Open up!”

  What choice did she have? The boy would keep yelling until his throat went sore. And he’d keep banging until his hands turned blue. It was Elie-Dre, her youngest. “Momma! I really gotta go!”

  “Oh, alright. I’m comin’!” she yelled, even though she knew the boy couldn’t hear. No sense bothering with a robe or towel, so she just opened the door and then stepped aside.

  Like The Little Engine that couldn’t wait another second, Elie-Dre barreled in, his zipper already undone. He whipped out his little manhood and a stream of pee sprayed wildly.

  “Goddamn it!” she yelled. Then she grabbed the boy by his round head and turned his eyes towards her. “Lift the seat first,” she said, slowly enunciating each word.

  “Sorry, Momma. I gotta go real bad.”

  “Well wipe the seat with toilet paper when you’re finished.” She gestured with her hands to the roll of toilet paper and moved her arms around in a circular motion.

  “Yes, Momma.”

  Sue Ellen stepped into the hot shower and let the scalding water run down her body. She turned around and the heat soothed her aching back.

  She saw Elie-Dre’s light brown back running off. The kid forgot to flush again. Elie-Dre could really drive her nuts. It wasn’t easy to communicate with him, being born with no ears and all, but he was still her baby.

  Barely a second or two passed when she heard the pitter-patter of her middle child scurrying into the bathroom. She peered out,
around the shower curtain and saw him facing the toilet, but didn’t hear any stream hitting the water.

  “Elie-Jay, what are you doing?”

  “Making pee-pee, Momma,” he said in a screechy whisper.

  She looked down at the floor and saw a puddle of piss piling up. She smirked and shook her head, then returned to her shower.

  Sue Ellen closed her eyes and faced right into the stream of hot water, allowing it to rush down her body. She reached for the soap and began to slowly wipe her midsection. For just a split second, it soothed her.

  “Momma! What a mess it is in here!”

  It was Kimi-Sue, her eldest child. She too needed to pee and it didn’t take long for her to start bitching about the yellow pond on the bathroom floor.

  “Wipe the seat, honey.”

  “Yuk! It’s so gross. I ain’t touching all that piss.”

  “Don’t talk like that.”

  “Why not? That’s what it is, ain’t it? It’s piss. That’s what Cleve calls it.”

  “Well just ‘cause Cleve talks like that, don’t make it okay for you to.”

  “Momma, I gotta pee. Okay, now help me!”

  “Just wipe the seat.”

  “Momma!”

  “Alright! Fine.”

  Sue Ellen stepped out of the shower-her wet body dripping water on the floor, diluting the yellow with streaks of clear water-and grabbed a handful of toilet paper. She flung it down on the floor and it began to soak up the pee. She took another pull at the toilet paper roll and used the sheet to wipe down the seat.

  “There.” She shot her mean-look at her daughter; she had to be firm with Kimi-Sue or else she’d complain all day. “Now make your pee-pee and get ready for school.”

  “Yes, Momma,” Kimi-Sue replied; the words were polite but the tone most certainly was not.

  “Don’t sass me.”

  Kimi-Sue sat down on the seat and began to pee, looking away from her mother as she did.

  Sue Ellen got back into the shower and flipped the curtain closed as she exhaled her frustration in a cloud of steamy air.

  The toilet flushed and surprisingly, Kimi-Sue remembered to close the door behind her when she left the room.

  “Finally! Some peace and qui­et.”

  The hot water was slowly turning to lukewarm but that didn’t make no difference. Sue Ellen was alone. Just herself and her shower. If only it could last forever.

  She washed her entire body, slowly, savouring every second she was alone. When she shut off the water, she expected to hear silence. Instead, she was startled to hear the loud and obnoxio­us sound of Cleve passing gas on the toilet.

  “Cleve! When did you come in here?”

  “Honey, when a man’s gotta take a dump, he’s gotta take a dump.”

  She shook her head as the stench hit her. “Cleve, that is foul.”

  He shrugged his shoulders, then looked down at the morning sports pages, which were rumpled between his hairy, muscular legs. Cleve wasn’t exactly a looker, but he did have strong legs.

  “I need to dry my hair.”

  “So, who’s stopping you?”

  “Cleve! It smells in here.”

  “I’ll be done in a minute.”

  Sue Ellen rolled her eyes and held her nose, then reached over Cleve’s lap and picked up her hair dryer. She grabbed her bathrobe and dashed out of the room.

  She walked into her bedroom. It was nice to have her own bedroom. Cleve was one pain in the ass, but he provided her with a bedroom. Before she met Cleve, they all slept in one room: all four of them. For a while, they had nowhere to stay at all. But as long as she could put up with his smelly shits and barroom manners, Cleve would always give her a room of her own. It was something.

  It was everything.

  No more busting her nails at The Route Nine Diner. No more cranky, overtired truckers leaving shitty tips. No more bitchy housewives who complained that the service was too slow or the food was too cold. No more whiny brat kids throwing their half-eaten food on the floor.

  No more shaking her ass for smelly old perverts at titty bars. True, she was only twenty-two but after three kids things do start to droop and sag-and anyway, she never was pretty enough to work at one of those high class “Gentleman’s Clubs.” She had to settle for dumps like The Rump Shaker and Big Bottoms where the guys did whatever the fuck they wanted and the bouncers didn’t do shit about it but laugh. No more. No more drunk frat boys she went to high school with coming into the joint and calling her names, snapping her G-string against the crack of her ass, then violently throwing a buck her way as if that somehow made it okay.

  No more lap dances and no more twelve-hour shifts. No more coming home reeking of cigar smoke and no more heel spurs from spending too much time on her feet.

  No more. No more. No more.

  She didn’t have to deal with any of it. She had Cleve. And as long as he got his morning blowjob, he was happy.

  “Sue Ellen,” she heard him call from the bathroom. “Come here, honey.”

  “Get in the shower, I’ll be right there.” She put down her hair dryer. No sense doing it now if it was only gonna get wet again.

  Cleve whipped out his cock and she took the head into her mouth. The head was always the easy part. On her knees in the shower, she tilted her neck to the side as he cursed and forced his cock in further.

  “Goddamn. Work with me, girlfriend.”

  She wiggled back and forth as he grabbed her by the hair and held her in place just so. She was used to the rough treatment. She got it each and every morning. Cleve said a morning without a blowjob was a wasted morning, and he wasn’t happy to waste a morning. So she took care of him first thing, each and every day for the last year and a half now. But this morning she wasn’t feeling right. Not right at all. Her stomach wasn’t happy.

  Sue Ellen pulled away from him and sucked in air.

  “Hey!” he said with a smirk. “Don’t stop. I ain’t done yet.”

  She forced out a smile and went back to business, despite her stomach churning and burning something awful.

  He arched his back and tried to get more than the head into her mouth, which was darn near impossible with the giant kink he had in his dick.

  “Fuck!” Cleve was starting to get frustrated again. This happened every morning. “Son of a bitch, I never should have taken that bet.”

  She couldn’t help but gag. She’d already had her morning English muffin and damn if it wasn’t about to find its way back up the way it came.

  He twisted her neck in a way it just wouldn’t go.

  “Ouch.”

  “I’m sorry, baby. But you know how I get.”

  “It’s okay. Does it hurt? It looks really red today.”

  “One of these days, baby, I am going to get that knot out.”

  “I know you will.”

  “I got the last laugh anyway. Those tickets to Smack-down were worth it, I tell ya. And I’ll get that knot out if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

  “I know you will.”

  She did her best to please him. He continued to arch his back and grunt and moan. He muttered swears and when she opened her eyes, his cock looked just awful, a sore shade of red with bulging purple veins.

  With one last fierce arch of his back, he shouted, “Fuck!” His entire body convulsed and his manhood quivered. She pulled back and the midsection of his cock, just above the knot was plump like a boa constrictor with a giant rat stuck in its gut. He yanked at it until it popped, and his goo sque­ezed through the knot and splattered all over like one of those old Bugs Bunny cartoons; you know when Elmer Fudd’s shotgun got tied in a knot and black smoke just blew out the sides. One day, she was afraid Cleve’s cock might explode the same way.

  She looked up at him, and he was tearing and his nose was running. “Thanks, baby,” he said.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Just perfect.” He adjusted his junk while she stepped out of the shower. “Where you going?”


  She turned on the faucet and splashed her face with water; her open mouth caught some of it and the rest simply hit her face. She was damn sure she was gonna puke. But she didn’t.

  “Sorry, Cleve. I’m not feeling so good this morning.”

  “Damn, girl, you know I like it when you finish up the job.”

  “I’m sorry. Really.”

  “Fine, whatever.”

  Trying to ignore the rumble in her belly, Sue Ellen went to her bedroom and dried her hair. When she walked out of her room, she looked out the front window and saw a huge puff of black smoke, and in front of it, a big yellow bus speeding away.

  “Kimi-Sue! You missed your bus.”

  Kimi-Sue came walking out of her bedroom. “Oops,” she said with a shrug.

  “Dammit! I don’t have time to drive you to school.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because, I have to drop Elie-Jay off at his school, and Elie-Dre off at nursery school.”

  “Mommy,” Elie-Jay croaked meekly as he walked out of the room he shared with his brother, “today’s Tuesday. Elie-Dre don’t have school on Tuesdays.”

  “You’re right.” She just had too much on her mind. Elie-Dre only went to nursery school on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. “Okay. Let’s go. Everyone in the car!”

  They walked out and the three kids piled into the Dodge station wagon. She hated the farty-looking thing but it was a real upgrade from the rusty old van they’d called a home for six months before meetin’ Cleve.

  She couldn’t think straight. What the hell was she to do? She had to see the doctor… she had to confirm it. Didn’t she?

  “Mom! Elie-Dre’s pulling my hair!” Kimi-Sue moaned in the background, but Sue Ellen wasn’t listening.

  Still, as if her mouth was on autopilot, she turned around, looked the boy in the eye and yelled, “Elie-Dre, leave your sister alone!”

  “She started it! She took my Sponge Bob.”

  “Did not!”

  “Did too!”

  What the hell was she going to do!

  “Stop fighting!” the autopilot mouth shouted, even as the brain continued to wander. Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, she leaned over, grabbed the Sponge Bob doll from Kimi-Sue and handed it to Elie-Dre.