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"But how could I be pregnant?" I stammered. "I haven't even, uh, done what is physically necessary to become pregnant, recently." "I know," said Steven. His blue eyes were kind, but in a way that made me think that he could be really unkind, if he felt like it. "I know that you have not done the thing that would normally be required to make you pregnant, a thing that, though very mysterious, isn't all that interesting, and children should ask their parents about it, but maybe not until they are nine or ten, if not even older. I am a scientist. I made you pregnant with science." His words made me furious, although a part of me also wished that he could be my boyfriend. But mostly furious. "How could you do such a thing?" I demanded. "This is the same as if you had touched certain parts of my body in a way that made me feel very uncomfortable, a way that children should definitely tell their parents about even if that person tells them not to!" "I don't feel that it was the same thing at all," said Steven, "though it certainly was not a very good thing to do. But I didn't do it because I wanted to. Some bad people made me do it." A mixture of emotions passed through me, anger, fear, sadness, and still strangely happy that I was pregnant, that Steven had come into my life, and I very much wanted to go on a date with him, even though I was still angry at him for making me pregnant outside of a loving Godly marriage without using the usual means that, despite not being all that interesting, I would have liked to go through at least, for my trouble. Maybe even with Steven. But I blushed at the thought and resolved not to dwell on it anymore lest we lose our PG rating. There was a sound from a floor above us. "We have to go," said Steven. "The bad people are coming, and if they find us and learn what I've told you we will both be touched in uncomfortable ways." "I don't know if I can trust you," I said. "You have no choice in this case, I'm afraid," he sighed. "Because our lives are in danger, you will have to trust me in a way that no child should ever trust an adult that makes them feel uncomfortable in anything resembling the way that I've made you feel uncomfortable, and pregnant. But this is a work of fiction with extraordinary circumstances that are extremely unlikely to occur in real life, so you must make one single exception to that rule." "Very well," I said. "I will trust you, for now, but only for the reasons you said." Steven nodded, seeming guilty but also slightly not, for what he had done, because maybe he liked me in the same strange way that I liked him. "We must hurry. There is a bus stop nearby that can take us away from the bad people, but it is a few blocks away, and with several crosswalks in between, and we will need to wait for the signal at each one and look both ways before crossing, for safety." |
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Aug 27, 2016 16:16
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| # ¿ May 3, 2024 07:16 |
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FactsAreUseless posted:She was a woman between 18 and 30. Maybe 35 if that's our target demographic. She did fashion, maybe, or interior design. A white job. She was definitely white. She had some money, but not as much money as he did. He had a lot of money. He didn't have to be white, but he couldn't be black. He could be Hispanic, if he was from Spain, but not from Mexico. He could be from the Middle East, but not a Muslim. He had a boat. |
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Aug 27, 2016 17:23
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See Jane. Jane likes Dick. See Dick. Dick likes Jane, but he is caught between his social responsibilities as an aristocrat in Victorian England, his yearning to break from the oppressive mold of the socioeconomic caste system that oppresses the wealthy and the poor alike, and his tempestuous desire for a mere scullery maid who spent time as a lady of the streets during the most desperate months of her teen years, the scandal of which could sully Dick's family name for generations to come. See Spot. Spot can run. |
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Aug 27, 2016 17:40
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