Super Fetus Read online

  The last thing she wanted to do was have sex with Cleve. She was sore all over, stressed out as hell and her stomach was que­asy again. But when she sat back in the bath and thought it through, the truth was, there was one thing she wanted to do even less than have Cleve’s two hundred and fifty pound hairy frame bounce on top of her for two and a half minute: and that was tell Cleve she was pregnant.

  Cleve was lying in bed when Sue Ellen walked back into the bedroom. His smelly robe was in a ruffle in the middle of the floor. She hung her own robe up on a hook attached to the door, then stepped over his robe and climbed into bed. She turned off the light, then lay back.

  He went to work and she turned her autopilot on and mechanically shifted and twisted along with him. He was a little rough, but nothing out of the ordinary. As he grunted, trying mightily to sque­eze his cock inside her past the knot, her mind went elsewhere.

  Oftentimes, while having sex with Cleve she couldn’t help but think about her father. They had a lot in common- Cleve and Daddy. They were a lot different in ways too, but she couldn’t help but notice the obvio­us similarities: like their age. Cleve was fully double her age, just having celebrated his forty-third birthday a few weeks back. But the more she thought about it, they were nothing alike. Cleve was more like her first boyfriend, Justin Lawrence.

  Sue Ellen got to thinking about her fourteenth birthday, walking down the hall of Bartlett Junior/Senior High School, her hands cluttered with books. A loud gang of boys, each wearing blue and white football jackets, walked towards her.

  “Hey, Sue Ellen!” they said as they rushed past, their voices all a blur in unison.

  At the back of the pack, he stood. Justin Lawrence. Blond curly hair bea­utifully gelled. Chiselled cheeks and pearly white smile.

  “Hey there, baby girl,” he said as he smirked and tilted his head sideward.

  “Hi, pumkin pie,” she said softly.

  “Pumpkin pie!” one of the boys yelled mockingly.

  Sue Ellen blushed.

  Justin didn’t. He yelled, “Shut up, punk!” Then he scowled at Sue Ellen and said, “I told you not to call me that.”

  “Sorry, sweetie.”

  “And don’t be callin’ me that neither.”

  “Okay.”

  “Not sweetie. Not honey pie. And definitely NOT pumpkin pie! Got it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now you know what I like to be called, don’t ya?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then call me it from now on.” His tone turned soft, as he smiled and said, “I’ll see you later, baby girl. And we’ll celebrate your birthday right proper.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay, what?”

  “Okay, Big Bad Baby Daddy.”

  “That’s more like it. Bye now.”

  He hustled off after his pals.

  Later that night, standing in front of her full-length mirror that stood tall in her bedroom, she clumsily applied mascara and waited for Justin. Soon, Sue Ellen heard the roar of exhaust and knew Justin’s old pickup, holey muffler and all, was quickly approaching. She walked downstairs as she heard the doorbell ring.

  “Hiya, Baby girl,” Justin spoke through her mother as if she hadn’t opened the door for him.

  Sue Ellen walked towards him and said, “Hi…” she paused and glanced at her daddy with the corner of her eye; he sat in his favourite chair in front of a loud football game, just barely louder than Justin’s idling truck outside, “…Big Bad Baby Daddy.”

  Justin smiled, “That’s my girl.”

  She walked towards him and said, “Bye, Daddy.”

  He scratched his faded ship’s anchor tattoo on his shoulder, exposed through his stained white tank top and said, “You kids have a nice time now.”

  As they walked out to the truck, Justin said, “Yer daddy sure is a strappin’ strong fella, ain’t he.”

  Sue Ellen’s eyes lit up and she said, “He’s the best.”

  Justin hopped up into the cab of his once blue but now rotted rust-coloured Ford. Sue Ellen stepped up gingerly in her pretty, high-heeled shoes and climbed in.

  They didn’t say much on the ride, as they couldn’t hear each other over the noise. When they pulled up in front of Justin’s trailer, Sue Ellen said, “I thought we wuz going out for dinner.”

  “Nah. I got alls we need here. Got some good scotch and nice music.”

  “But I’m hungry.”

  “Sue Ellen, you don’t need no goddamn food you fat bitch!”

  “Do you think I’m fat,” she pouted while fidgeting in her size two dress.

  “Nah. Of course not.” He opened his door, slammed it and shouted, “Come on!”

  Justin walked up the three-step stoop into his trailer. She followed close behind. It was dark, but Justin didn’t turn on any lights.

  “You sit down,” he said as he walked into the next room.

  As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she made out the outlines of the couch. She felt her way along and there was shit all over it: newspapers, boxes and who-the-hell knew what else. She pushed it aside and sat.

  “Goddamn it, Momma!” she heard him yell from the next room. He walked back and said, “Momma drank all the scotch, but I’ve got some Wild Irish Rose somewhere ‘round here. Lemme get it.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Who? Momma? Don’t worry ‘bout her. She’s passed out in the other room. She took a bottle of them Viconexes and washed ‘em down with my last bottle of nice scotch. She won’t be botherin’ us none.”

  “Where’s yer daddy?”

  As he shuffled through the shelves, he said, “Aw, he ain’t been home for weeks. I think he’s gone westbound to Texarkana to pick up a truckload’a Coors.” Sue Ellen heard more shuffling, then he shouted, “Euree-eka! Found it.”

  He clicked on a lamp next to the couch, then sat down next to her. Justin cracked open the bottle of white wine and took a slug. “Ahhh. I prefer it cold but I gotta hide shit or Momma‘ll drink it on me. Here.”

  Sue Ellen took the bottle from Justin and sniffed it.

  “Drink it.” He paused. “It’s good.”

  She took a tiny sip. It was bitter… or sweet… or something. It basically just tasted like warm piss.

  “Come on. Have a real sip.” As Sue Ellen took another small sip, he grabbed the bottom end of the bottle and forced it upwards so the wine ran into her throat, and down the sides of her face. “That’s it! Drink it, dammit! Guzzle that shit down.”

  She gulped as best she could but felt a tickle at the bottom of her throat, and gagged, then spit up a mouthful of wine.

  “Goddammit, Sue Ellen. Yer wasting it. That’s the last bottle in the house.”

  “I’m sorry, Big Bad Baby Daddy.”

  He held the bottle up to the light; there was about a third of the bottle left. “GODDAMNSONOFABITCHIN-MOTHERFUCKINSHITASS! How am I gonna get a buzz on this?”

  “I’m really sorry, sweetie pie.”

  “What?”

  “I… I mean, I’m sorry Big Bad Baby Daddy.”

  He shook his head while biting the side of his cheek, then leaned his head back and sucked down the last of the Wild Irish Rose. Once done, he tossed the bottle aside and it clanked around the floor, but didn’t break.

  Justin walked into the next room and Sue Ellen heard banging and rattling. He came out, arms full of football equipment, and dropped it in a heap at her feet.

  “Put that on. ‘kay. I’ll be right back.”

  He started to walk away when she asked, “What ya mean?”

  “Put it on, stupid! Just put on my football outfit. You do know how to put on a pair of shoulder pads, don’t cha?”

  She shrugged. “I guess so.”

  “Good. Now get to it, baby girl.”

  She bent over and looked at the pile of stuff. What went where? She took off her shoes, then reached back to unzip her dress but had a hard time reaching. Finally, she did and she slid it off. Sue Ellen picked up the padded pan
ts and stepped into them one leg at a time, then tied the shoelace-strap tight. She picked up the shoulder pads and with a little effort, figured out how to fasten them in place. She picked up Justin’s white and blue, number 17 football jersey, and struggled to get it up and over the shoulder pads. She couldn’t do it. She managed to get the left arm through but the right side hung half on, half off the pad and her arm didn’t go through the sleeve of the jersey, instead it hung limply to her side. Lastly, she bent over and picked up his helmet. It was too big for her small head, but she pulled it on anyway, then sat down on the couch.

  “Sue Ellen,” she heard him call in a high-pitched, sing-song voice, “here I come!”

  Justin pranced in on his tippy toes. He was wearing a pink, frilly tutu, like she wore as a kid the one summer she took ballet class. As he danced closer, she could see white gunk all over his face.

  “What’s on yer face, Big Bad Baby Daddy?” she asked.

  “What? That’s kazibuki makeup, like the orientiles wear. Don’t you know nuthin’, baby girl?”

  “What’s an orientile?”

  “Shit, you really dumb, Sue Ellen. Ain’t you ever seen one?”

  “I don’t think so. Maybe on TV. I’ve never been outta Hokeyville.”

  “Hey! You ain’t wearin’ the jock strap. You can’t be no football player with no jock strap.” He bent over and picked up a funny looking belt and handed it to her. “Put it on.”

  She took it from him and looked at it. Then she looked up, unsure of what to do.

  “Step into it. It’s a fuckin’ jock strap, dammit.”

  She shook her head, and he grabbed it from her hands.

  He pulled it wide and said, “Just step into it. You can wear it over your pants.”

  She stepped into the belt one leg at a time, then he yanked it up high.

  “That’s better. Now you be the centre, and I’ll be the quarterback. Got it?”

  She shrugged.

  “Shit. I ain’t never seen a girl as dumb as you, Sue Ellen.” He placed a football on the floor in front of her and said, “Bend over and touch the ball. Okay?”

  She bent over and grabbed the ball.

  “No, like this.” He twisted her at the waist and leaned her forward. “That’s it. Just stay like that.”

  “It’s a little uncomfortable, Big Bad Baby Daddy.”

  “Just stand still, baby girl.” He walked over to the corner of the room and turned on some music. It piped through the house and looking backward between her legs, she watched him get on his tippy toes and twist, then turn, and jump, then turn fully around. “Ain’t this good, Sue Ellen? I’m a good dancer, ain’t I?”

  “You sure are, Big Bad Baby Daddy.”

  “I can fly!” he said as he hopped and leaped through the air. “Now when I say hike, you snap the football. Got it?”

  “I think so.”

  “Good.” The music was building and getting louder and Justin’s leaps and jumps got higher along with the rising volume and tempo of the tune. “Blue twenty-two!” he shouted as he spun. “Blue twenty-two. Omaha. Omaha. Red one-fifty counter trey.” He paused and stood right behind her. He wedged his right hand between her legs, pressing the hard cup of the funny belt against her butt crack. “Hike!”

  Sue Ellen pulled the ball up and Justin grabbed it from her, then knocked her face first to the ground and ran around the room. The lamp crashed and books and boxes few about. Justin ran the length of the doublewide, dodging some obstacles while knocking others over. Finally, a small black stepstool caught his toes and he plunged across the carpet, coming to rest in front of her.

  Through heavy breath he shouted, “First down!”

  Unsure of what to do, Sue Ellen paused and listened to him huff and puff. Then, she started clapping and cheered, “Yay! Way to go team!”

  “What are you, stupid? You’re the centre, not the cheerleader. Come on. Let’s run another play.”

  “Okay.”

  “But this play might get rough. Put your jockstrap on right.”

  She shrugged. “Okay.” She slid the funny belt off, and then the pants.

  “The jockstrap should be under the underwear.”

  “Okay.” She slid off her panties, then she stepped into the funny belt and leaned over for her panties.

  “You won’t be needing them.”

  “Okay.”

  Justin handed her the ball then said, “Let’s go. Run it again.” He walked back to the stereo and re-cued the music to the beginning of the same song as she bent over and gripped the football.

  Justin twinkle-toed around to the music and as the song built up, he leaped and jumped and turned along with it. The song again grew louder and played faster. He stood behind her and yanked the bottom of his tutu to the side. In the dark, she could see the outlines of his cock. She’d never seen one up close before, but even looking backwards and upside down, it looked pretty big.

  “Blue twenty-two. Blue twenty-two.” He grabbed his cock with one hand and leaned in close to her; his other hand wedged between her legs, the top end of his palm pressing into her bare butt. “Omaha. Omaha. Red one-fifty. Hike!”

  Sue Ellen pulled the football up towards him, which he grabbed and quickly flipped aside. He rammed his cock into her virgin insides, and she stumbled from his weight. He leaned into her and she steadied herself as best she could. He grabbed the side of her shoulder pad with one hand and yanked the back of the funny belt with the other then bounced her into him. Her arm gave way from his weight and they both fell forward. The facemask of the helmet hit the ground and her head tilted as she re-steadied herself with her arms.

  Justin began singing loudly along with the music in some weird language she couldn’t understand. Then fiercely, and loudly he yelled, “Euree­ee­eee-eee­ekkka!”

  Cleve moaned, his usual agonizing moan. Sue Ellen felt him quiver and heard him whispering curses. He rolled over, sweating, while trying to sque­eze the clog out of his hose.

  Nine months after she and Justin’d tore up the doublewide, little Kimi-Sue was born. And here it was, just seven years and three kids later, and she had another kid growing in her belly.

  “GODDAMNSONOFABITCHINMOTHERFUCKIN-SHITASS!” Sue Ellen said to herself. It was a whisper, but a firm whisper.

  “What, honey?” Cleve asked, finally starting to smile as his cum slid slowly out his pee hole.

  “Nothing, Cleve. Just go to sleep.”

  And he did. Sue Ellen, however, didn’t. She lay awake for hours, wondering how in the hell she could be knocked up again.

  FIVE

  Yawwwwn.

  What now, Mommy? Where are we going? Man am I hungry. When was the last time Mommy ate anything? Is she trying to starve me? She tried to kill me with that poison but I made her puke the pills up. Does she think I’m stupid?

  Hey, I recognize that patronizing, deliberate voice. Are we back at that doctor’s office?

  “Okay, Sue Ellen have you followed the pre-op instructions?”

  “Yes, Dr. Kurtsworth.”

  “Okay, then. Up into the stirrups, and I’ll go get the nurse.”

  What are they up to? I don’t like the sound of this.

  “Now don’t worry a bit, Sue Ellen. This won’t be much different than a regular exam. I’m going to start by inserting the speculum into your vagina. Just like for a pap”

  “Okay.”

  Damn. Feels a bit drafty in here all of a sudden. Someone shut the door, please.

  “Clean the area please, Nurse.”

  “Yes, Doctor.”

  “Now, I’m going to give you a local anaesthetic. No big deal at all, Sue Ellen.”

  “Okay, doctor.”

  Hmmm. That feels kinda good. I could go for a nice nap, suddenly.

  “Sue Ellen, we are going to use the manual vacuum.

  That should be the simplest method.”

  “Okay, Dr. Kurtsworth. Whatever you think is best. I just want this over with.”

  “I’m
going to insert a small syringe into your uterus. It will be done in a few minutes.”

  What the… man… who pulled out the drain plug? The tide is flowing down all of a sudden. What’s with the slurping noises?

  “I think I’ve got it, Sue Ellen.”

  Back off, Jack! Shit man! Lay off my fluid. Stop pokin’ my head with that you bastard!

  Poke! Poke! Poke! That freakin’ doctor is poking my head and then sucking in. What is he trying to do to me? I’ve got a thick skull and all, but that thing he’s using has some pull to it.

  Knock it off!

  “Ouch!”

  “What’s the matter, doctor?” I hear the nurse ask.

  “Nothing, just got a funny vibration. That’s all. Never felt anything quite like that. Nurse, get the machine.”

  That’s better. Get that needle up outta here!

  “What’s wrong, Doctor?”

  “Nothing at all, Sue Ellen. Nurse, let’s get an ultrasound on this.”

  What is that putz up to?

  “Nurse, I don’t believe it.”

  “What is it?” I hear the nurse and Mommy say together.

  “The foetus has already developed a head.”

  “Huh, that’s weird,” the nurse says.

  “Dr. Kurtsworth, what’s going on?” Mommy whines.

  “It’s okay, Sue Ellen. But we are going to need the vacuum machine. It’s very routine. The pregnancy is too far along for the manual vacuum, that’s all.”

  “Okay. Just end this.”

  Now what? That is way too big to be a needle. What the fuck is that tube?

  “Don’t worry, Sue Ellen. The vacuum is actually very gentle.”

  “Okay, Dr. Kurtsworth.”

  Holy shit! What is that noise? Turn off that fucking jackhammer, doc! You’re freakin’ killing me. My ears are barely even formed yet. Are you trying to make me deaf for life? SHUT THAT NOISE OFF, MAN!

  Goddamn. What’s with the Hoover. My four strands of stubbly hair barely busting out of their follicles are getting yanked towards the opening. Would you leave me alone? Damn! These hurricane winds are too much. I’m grabbing hold of Mommy’s slippery sides but it ain’t easy to get a firm grip on this greasy thing. Especially with all of Mommy’s inner goop whizzing by my head.