Life's Full of Surprises
by Tara Ann Stridh
Darla/Lindsey and her babies
Darla reflects on being pregnant.
spoilers - That Vision Thing
feedback - DarlaAnn400@aol.com
*Characters do not belong to me:(
Life’s Full of Surprises
Depends on Who’s Doing the Drinking
by Tara Ann Stridh
Darla was truly grateful that she couldn’t see the deformity she had become in the motel mirror. She ripped the ceiling fan out of the plaster because its vibration unsettled her stomach. The pounding from the thing growing inside her was more bearable. Tomorrow she would hike through the green wet mountains and finally rid herself of it; she would have prayed, but she didn’t know who or what to pray to - she doubted anyone would listen, anyway. Her only savior had been killed by The Slayer.
She threw the tarnished letter opener at the mirror, causing the glass to break. Only seven years bad luck, she thought and rolled her eyes. She lay down naked on the squeaking bed. She had eaten just an hour ago, and already she was starving again. It didn’t stop - the hunger, the pounding, and the sharp letter blade didn’t stop it, either. Darla may have been damned, but she had been damned before The Master came for her; it was simple really and somewhere in her mind she heard Minnie’s voice, “All women are damned since birth and before because they are born a woman, and in the end our own nurturing parts betray us. A woman is born into this world only to betray herself and sacrifice everything that is her very being.” Or maybe this impossible pregnancy was just nature’s way of fucking with a reborn whore.
Yeah, they know, they always know how to say thank you for the bang. Perfect despair, hmph!
She’d kill him, she thought, for what he did to her, but the thought of going back only made her feel sick. It was the last place she wanted to return to, and he was the last man she wanted to see. Darla handled many things on her own, and this wouldn’t be any different. Except that it was; it was something she didn’t understand.
Her violet-hazel eyes looked downward at her pale beasts. They were so full that they looked like swollen hills. She began to feel them with her hands. They felt softer, yet firm, and when erect her nipples were scarlet, sometimes hot, sometimes cold. At the moment they were burning and darker than pink, and Darla knew it was because she was hungry, it was hungry.
After her breasts all she could see was the roundness. She had fed off pregnant women before, relished it deeply, there was nothing quite as lovely (except for taking a streetwalker) as taking the life of a mother and her unborn child, now she was one of them. It made her feel lost, lost to herself, lost to what she was. Secretly she liked to feel it, though. She liked to rub the roundness back and forth, around; she’d stop when it kicked, trying to hide from it, but it knew everything about her it seemed. Darla didn’t like loneliness, and it knew that so it kicked to let her know it was there, that she wasn’t alone.
Darla closed her eyes, gliding her hand over her tight belly. It didn’t kick, and she wondered why. Then she cursed herself for wondering such a dreadful thing. Sometimes she’d think it would just go away one day soon, but it never did.
“I’m not your mommy. I can’t be your mommy. I don’t love you,” she said, her fingers tapping her belly. “In fact, I’m going to get rid of you.”
It began to kick, and Darla smiled. She wondered if it truly heard her voice. She wondered what she felt like inside, what it felt being inside her. If she was soft, if it had good dreams or nightmares. Her own dreams varied from blissful horrors to fragments of her past ~ did it share her dreams? Did she share its dreams? What was it, was it like her? Or something else? Or was it just it? Some nights when she was feeling hopeless she thought she could have it and raise it by herself, teach it not to trust, teach it to care only for itself, and finally send it to kill its unworthy and disgusting daddy. That or she’d have it, then kill it herself.
It wouldn’t stop kicking, and its pounding was steady and strong.
“Oh, hush now,” Darla said, and the kicking began to waver.
Suddenly Darla wished the mirror could show her what she looked like; listening to the pounding she began to fall sleep and the lavender-orange sky began to thunder.
When Darla was pregnant for the first time she let Lindsey feel her, feel it, she knew he pretended it was his. Now he didn’t have to pretend. Darla wasn’t that full, yet, but she was coming along quite well. Lindsey, being male and in love with her, noticed the increased size of her breasts. Her nipples were ice tonight as she pensively slept beside him. Touching her and admiring the roundness of her stomach he thought it must be nice to have such an important body. Maybe it was why men wanted so much attention for their penis, because it couldn’t do what a woman could do. If women had penis envy, men wanted a vagina so they could fuck themselves and create from time to time.
Lindsey placed his left hand over her pale cool belly. He didn’t ask her if he could touch her because this time the baby was his.
“Hey you,” he whispered, “you asleep or are you pretending you’re asleep, just like your mama is right now.”
The baby didn’t kick, despite his warm palm.
“Women are cursed, Lindsey. She’s going to grow up into a woman, and when she realizes the misfortune she’s going to hate me.”
“Don’t be -“
“Don’t listen to your mama, you’re not cursed. You’re gonna scare the little honky tonk and she won’t ever want to come out.”
“Good,” said Darla, “she’ll be the better for it if she stays inside, safe.”
“I don’t believe that,” Lindsey said.
“Of course not, you’re a man. Human. But you know the way the world is, you know.”
“Shhh, don’t you worry, little honky tonk, your mama just wants to keep you all to herself.”
The baby began to kick and Lindsey laughed lightly.
Darla said, “Jena’s hungry and so is Mommy.”