MS Chapter 1

§0 §0 §0MY STRUGGLE§0 §0 §0By Mr.§0 §0 §0and Mrs.§0 §0 §0Baker

CHAPTER I§0 §0 §0 Jackson, Mississipi§0 §0"Quick, husband! We must get to the clinic before it's too late!", said the lady. Her name was Mary-Ann Baker. She was fifty-three. Her tits were massive, almost as big as her bulging belly. Pus oozed from

her unpleasantly brown eyes. All fifty-seven of her hairs were tied back in a neat bun. She was a natural brunette, but her hair was the exact shade of a rat's fur and thus she had dyed it bright blond.§0 §0"I'm driving as fast as I can, dear. But I cannot

ignore the traffic lights, you know that! Law and order must be preserved", her husband answered. His name was Geodfrey of Baker ; he was a rocket engineer from California. He was a nervous man, skinny and frail. He looked nothing like his wife, and many

wondered how the two had ever gotten together in the first place. They were polar opposites in a myriad of respects, but most conspicuous of all was the difference in their sexual appetites. Geodfrey had not touched a woman until the age of thirty-three ;

on the other hand, Mary-Ann was known throughout the South for being a unimaginably voracious, promiscuous and lustful slattern, unmatched by any other woman that side of Buckingham Palace. Most men in Mississipihad had their go in Mrs. Baker's various

holes. It was said that the prodigious size of Mary-Ann's ventral protuberance could not simply be explained by her incredible obesity - indeed when her mouth wasn't occupied pleasuring that hour's lover, it was munching on a deep-fried stick of butter or

a bacon triple cheeseburger - no, the size of her tumy was also due to dozens, perhaps hundreds of foetuses and embryos at various stages of development, from a host of different fathers - none of them Mr. Baker's. So numerous and cramped where these

developing humanoids that her network of uteri had begun to resemble a plague of pimples, both in size and in content. And one of the pimples was about to burst.§0 §0 §0"We have to go now, it's moving!", screamed Mrs. Baker at the top of her lungs. Their

chariot flew effortlessly along the pavement, its flight akin to that of the majestic chicken. It was an antique barrow, hewn from wood and nails and it was pulled by two mules. "We're there, honey! It's going to be alright". They pulled over in front of

the clinic and Geodfrey helped his wife off the cart.§0 §0 §0The receptionist smiled at them. She recognised Mrs. Baker from all the other times. "I'm afraid Mr. Bortum isn't here today. I can schedule an appointment for tomorrow if you'd like". Geodfrey's face

was presently as pale as his bollocks. "We need it today! It's about to come out!" As if to prove his point, Mrs. Baker let out a scream of pain. Her abdomen began to pulsate. "I can perform it for you now", offered the receptionist. "I'm qualified".

"Please!", begged Geodfrey. She took out a coat hanger from behind her desk and got to work. She managed to get the baby right in the head, and she pulled. After a long battle, she dragged it out - and out it came, writhing, clear white liquid dripping

from its contracting and decontracting pores, its tiny little mouth emitting a plea, his first irritating, bitchy whine - it was alive, horribly alive. The dark-green slug fell on the floor.§0 §0 §0"Oh no", murmured Mrs. Baker.

"Jeff?", suggested the receptionist.