I feel like someone keeps giving me decaf instead of regular today.
Nothing in this life is more beautiful than a defeated baby factory that has been forced to accept the truth.
Everything her feminist professors told her was a lie. Going to any form of school was a mistake and a complete waste of time and money.
Her mind still wants to believe she’s equal to Men and career is the most important thing in life but her body knows she was put on this earth to birth. Every inch her belly grows her mind shrinks, every kick is a reminder that no matter what she says deep down she knows from now on pregnancy is permanent.
Every baby she gets filled with she swears will be the last time and every time she climaxes during birth she begs to be bred like a daycare ditto.
I love when a baby factory hates that she loves being bred and milked like a dairy cow.
As soon as she’s empty everyone knows she’s going to be mooing nonstop to Get Pregnant Again
I remember me that day. He had become the proud owner of a small coffeeshop and asked me to help him to get rid of the stuff the former owner had left behind. He had been a doctor, rather a doctor for women. In the store behind the reminders of him who had died in that accident. Old files, dusty... some instruments, antique, now not used anymore. And there it was. Huge, still looking good for it's age. And heavy... an old gynaecological chair... complete with old-fashioned stirrups. How many women must have been in there, had an examination on it. Before I could hold my words, I did ask him: "May I try it? Just to know how it was in those days."
"Be my guest", he said, and helped me on the chair. Layed my legs in the stirrups he watched me for a moment and asked if he, for our fun, could make some pics of me in the chair. "Be my guest". I said.
Taken a few shots he asked me to stay a little while in the chair and he went out of the soreroom, coming back a little later, dressed in doctorclothes. I giggled, about this and he offered me some juice to drink. Shortly after I got some dizzy. I noticed he had come closer, between my legs. Woke up a while later, it was already getting dark. And that feeling... a little pain. And still lay in the chair.
"Ah, finally woke up", he laughed. "Thought you would to stay here for the night in the chair". I smiled. "Nah, rather like to sleep in my bed, although... I guess I could sleep in it also. Think I just did proof it."
Now I'm standing there, serving customers of the coffeeshop, not sure what makes me feel more worser, my body, swollen, a little baby inside. Or the jokes they make, like... can I have some extra cream in my coffee please or is it not yet working? or, will the skin of the little one equal the color of my coffee?
I think about the day, they said at school I couldn't study on theirs anymore. And he offered my a job in his shop, the owner... the father of the child... who likes to examine me sometimes in that oold chair, still standing in the back, in the storeroom he made me become a mom...
