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BABY BUSINESS
CHAPTER ONE
At 23, Cathy was much too young to be divorced and marooned in the suburbs. She didn’t like the house that had come to her as part of the divorce settlement or the neighborhood. She didn’t know if her neighbors were likable or not since she didn’t know them at all. The husbands all left early for work and came back late. Many of the wives did, too. The ones who stayed home were much to involved with their children to be interested in her. Sometimes she wished she had children, which she would surely have gotten, too, like the house. At least they would be company. Sometimes she was so lonely she slept almost as much as a male lion.
Having taken a couple of pills and a couple of drinks, she was sound asleep at 2 a.m. when company finally came calling. He studied her barely covered form stretched out on top of the covers, and he approved. Here breasts were certainly C cup, maybe even D. Otherwise she was slender, even her hips, which might not bode well for having children, and he was a man who cared a lot about having kids, but he was willing to risk it. Besides her breasts, her blonde Nordic good looks persuaded him. When he applied the drug-soaked rag to her pretty face, she seemed to shrug and then settled into a deeper sleep.
(space)
To tame them, he always used sensory deprivation at first. So he kept her blindfolded with her ears plugged with candle wax. She was chained spread eagle on a piece of plywood which was slightly canted so her piss would drain away. Her shit just sat there. He came in every other day to replace the water bottle with a nipple that hung above here lips, but she had to strain to reach it. She always ran out of water at least a day before his visits. While he was there, he “cleaned her cage,” not that it was a real cage, just a plywood plank and chains. He used a hose to wash away her shit and to rinse off her sweaty body.
Then he fucked her and fed her a carton a yogurt. He wanted her to associate him with the few good things left in her life: a drink of water, a little food, and a break in her isolation. He wanted her to look forward to his visits. And she did. He wanted her to long for his return. And she did. He was almost courting her. He almost wanted her to love him. But the chains squeezed too tightly and the plywood was too hard to make love true love quite possible. But he was the only human being left in her universe. She would have hugged him to her if her hands had been free.
Occasionally he told her to pee. She asked why. He hit her in the face. She peed. Since she was blindfolded, she couldn’t tell that he was collecting her piss in a pregnancy kit. Test after test came out negative. He was worried, because if she couldn’t get pregnant, he would eventually have to kill her. She wouldn’t be economically viable.
Meanwhile she was going crazy in her silent darkness. She didn’t know if it was day or night. Sometimes she didn’t know if she were alive or dead. Most of the time, she didn’t know if she were awake or dreaming. And her own voice kept pounding in her head: Come back! Come back! Won’t you ever come back? Don’t abandon me! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!
(space)
When she woke up, more or less, still drifting in and out, she was thrilled to discover that she could see. But even this dim light hurt her eyes. Her vision kept going in and out of focus. When her sight came back, she thought she saw that she was no longer alone. Other women were all around her. Strangely they were all naked. What kind of after life had she awakened into? They were all naked and bound. But not with rope. With chains and pipes and metal stocks. And she was bound, too, not to a board, not with her hands above her head, but chained behind her back. And somehow her handcuffs were tethered both to her asshole and to her pussy. Able to move her hands with more range of motion than before, she investigated and discovered to her horror: Her hands were chained to a ring that went in her asshole and came out her vagina.
Watching her wake up, her new master wondered if she could make out the biology of her bonds. Since her colon and vagina ran parallel and close to each other, he had simply punched a hole connecting the two and inserted a ring. Then he chained her hands to that ring. He thought it was his most elegant binding yet.
He was proud that all of his girls were bound differently. The first had simply been handcuffed behind her back. The next had been handcuffed to a chain around her waist. The next to a chain that ran from her wrists through her pussy valley, between her breasts, to a ring around her neck…and on and on…One girl’s wrists were chained tightly to her nipples…another was secured with a stock that looked like this o-----0-----o with her head through the middle circle and her hands through the o’s on each side…hands chained to knees…hands chained to ankles…hands chained to labia…hands chained to clit…and on and on and on and on…
He waited until she seemed wide awake, or as awake as she could be under the circumstances, before he approached her.
“Hi, Cathy,” he said.
She tried to say something, but she had almost lost the ability to talk. She just coughed.
“You’re probably wondering where you are,” he told her. “Well, I am going to tell you. You are in a baby farm. There are millions of women who want to have children, but who can’t. My mission is to supply those girls with kids. We grow babies on this farm. You will get pregnant, have children, and those babes will be sold to adoption agencies. Anyway I hope you will get pregnant. I really do. Because if you don’t, you will either be hanged, beheaded, or starved to death which takes longer but it more painful.. Your choice.”
Cathy coughed.
“But you don’t have to decide now because you’ll probably spew out babies like an assemble line.”
Now Cathy noticed that many of her naked, bound companions had bulging stomachs.
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