My feet hurt.
Well, they hurt most days. When Joey wants me to be pregnant for a while, I get all the usual symptoms, only magnified on the small, underdeveloped frame of a 13-year-old girl. My feet get sore from supporting too much weight. My back aches. The pressure on my bladder makes me have to go over and over again. Then, there's the tenderness in my milk-swollen breasts. It's all a real pain, but that's why Joey makes me go through it all. He likes seeing me suffer.
Sometimes I have a baby in a few minutes, if Joey feels like having a new kid around. Other times Joey drags out the pregnancy, just to mess with me, to make me suffer, you know? For instance, this month he got me pregnant again, for, like, the 60th or 70th time? (Honestly, I have lost count. After your first few dozen kids, it gets hard to keep track of how many you've popped out.) Anyway, I'm pregnant again. He sped things up a bit, as per usual, but he left me only 8 months and 2 weeks pregnant. I feel huge, like, elephant big, and I've been pregnant enough times to know that I'll have multiples this time. It's hard to say how many. Probably at least triplets.
Triplets will make any woman's feet hurt. They hurt more if you're 13.
It would be hard enough being at home and pregnant, but, no, I have to got to school, still. Joey and I are in the same grade, but we're only in one class together. He should have graduated already, but he keeps himself in school as a student for a single class period, just to see me. He likes to see me during that class just before lunch, to see the exhaustion and frustration on my face. He gets off on knowing that he made me this way. The rest of the day, I tramp around school dragging my bag around. I got one with wheels to save my back, but I still get worn out pulling it around. It doesn't help that I'm the smallest student in the school and that I have a hard time maneuvering around the giants in the hallways what with all of the extra weight I'm lugging around.
That's right, smallest. I'm a 13-year-old high school sophomore. Just like I was a 13-year-old freshman last year and a 13-year-old 8th grader the year before. It's not fun watching the girls in your class grow taller and sexier while you remain a stunted middle school girl. Of course, no one notices how strange the situation is. Joey made sure they wouldn't. Still, that doesn't stop the other girls from looking down on me, both figuratively and literally, and it doesn't help my popularity that I'm a young pregnant teen most of the time. I've heard "slut" and "whore" whispered near me more times than I can count. Probably even more times than I've been pregnant.
And, my feet hurt.
The bell rings as I waddle towards my English class, the one I have with Joey. I enter and Ms. Brown chastises me for being tardy again. I barely listen. I'm always late, always slow, always tired, always wrong, wrong, wrong.
I sit next to Joey on a chair next to my desk. My huge belly won't fit in the desk anymore, you see. Joey leans over and kisses me. I feel something stir in my belly. One of the triplets is getting some exercise.
"How are you, my lovely baby factory?"
The other fetuses start to move and I stand up. "Ms. Brown?" I ask.
She pauses in the middle of her lecture and sighs when she sees it's me again. "Yes, Maggie?"
"I need the bathroom." After a couple of tries, I stand up and take the bathroom pass from the frowning Ms. Brown. I waddle out the door and hope that I won't ruin another dress with piss.
Unfortunately, I don't make it in time.
***
Hours later, I walk through the door to our home, wearing a borrowed pair of XL gym shorts. I'm greeted by a chorus of shouts and cries and "Hello, Mommy" and the rest of the general pandemonium, as you would expect to hear from a house full of at least 60 children under 3 years old.
Grandma is hard at work in the kitchen making her fifth meal of the day for the platoon of babies camped out around the house. Grandpa is busy at work on his shift at the changing table, while a line of a dozen unhappy babies wait for their dirty diapers to be changed.
Grandma puts it in. Grandpa handles it when it comes out. Then, they switch the next day. It's a simple system.
I help out where I can, but I'm usually dead tired after I get home, and I have homework to do, somehow. I'm nearly failing most of my classes, but I'll manage a D in them if I'm lucky. I want to graduate, if only so that I don't have to waddle around those halls anymore looking up at the beautiful female bodies I can never have.
My feet would hurt less, too.
Somehow, I make the climb upstairs, dodging a few toddlers running past me up and down. I lay down on my bed. Only, two other babies are on it with me. One of them needs to be changed, but he can wait. All of it can wait. Even when a couple of toddlers start poking me on the nose crying, "Mommy, Mommy, come play with us," I know that they can wait. I drift off into dreams for a little while. The house never really sleeps, so I get my rest in little naps here and there. Usually, I have strange dreams.
One dream that comes up often feels strangely real. In the dream, I am Joey and he is me. I'm a teenager, and an old woman has given me a magic ring. It looks just like the one that Joey wears all of the time. I know that I can do anything with it, but I give it away, instead. And, every time that I start to hand it away to some shadowy figure, I fight with all of my might to stop myself from doing it, to keep that power for myself this time. But, I can't control my hand. It moves by itself and gives away my life to the shadows.
I wake up, and I feel the pain in my feet, and I hear the crying and the screaming, and I'm still 13 and pregnant, and my life will never change.
Joey walks in the room and smiles. "There's my girl," he says. He lays down on the bed next to me and spoons his larger body against mine. I feel his erection poking my fat ass. "How's the baby factory?"
"She's tired, and her feet hurt," I say.
He kisses my cheek. "Well," he says. "That's a pity. But, don't worry, only a couple more weeks until this batch is ready. Hmm?"
"That's lovely," I say, but I only barely sound enthusiastic.
"Yes, it's lovely. Maybe I can make you feel better," he says as he rubs himself against my ass. What he has in mind will only make himself feel better, though.
A voice from the hall says, "Daddy, can you play with us?"
I let out a sigh of relief when I feel alone again and the bed creaks as he slips off of it. "What's your name, son?"
"Alex," the boy declares. "I'm number 42!"
"Alex," Joey says. "Let's go play."
"Hey, he's going to play with us," Alex declares to the hallway and a dozen other toddler voices cheer.
Mercifully, Joey closes the door, and I drift back to sleep.
This time, I dream that I am a woman at last. My legs are long and shapely. My chest sports a pair of enormous, perky breasts. I look in a mirror and admire my sophisticated, adult features. I'm beautiful. I'm sexy. I'm a woman.
"Dinner!" Grandma yells, and once more, I'm a hugely pregnant little 13-year-old girl, with the same beanpole-turned-pregnant body I've had for too long. The one with the same dopey, young face I've had for 3 years.
And, guess how my feet feel.
I make my way to the dinning room, past the kids, past the toys, past the stink and clatter of it all. I sit at my seat, and then the spaghetti comes. I eat it without thinking.
The lights go out, and I fear that I have gone blind somehow. Then, I see the candles. They set a cake in front of me. "Happy 17th Birthday Maggie!" is written on it. They sing. All of them. All of my sons and daughters that can say the words. "Happy birthday to you..."
When the off-key chorus finishes, they wait for me to blow out the candles, but I just stare at my real age and start crying, then sobbing.
My darling army of children try to comfort me, but many of them start crying too. The whole house becomes a big sobbing, drooling, nose-dripping mess.
Then, Joey blows out my candles.
That hurts more than anything, even my feet. Once again, he's taken away a year from me, if only symbolically.
He kisses my tear-soaked cheek. "Happy birthday, my love."
I try to smile at him through my hate.
He whispers, "I've got a special treat for you tonight in bed."
I know what he really means. He's going to treat himself to my pussy tonight in bed.
He helps me upstairs and, as I expected, proceeds to rape me gently. Then, very generously, I get to sleep the rest of the night.
The dream this night is new. I have the ring back. I'm pointing it at Joey as he cowers before me. I say, "That's right, bow before me you worm. Lick my sore, fucking, feet." He licks them. I concentrate and his belly swells while my belly deflates. I'm not pregnant, but I'm still 13. I focus. Joey's hair grows and his features soften. He shrinks. He's a girl now, a 13-year-old. I focus again, and I'm 17 years old. My body has filled out wonderfully. I feel sexy and powerful. Joey pleads for mercy, but I ignore her/him. I just focus and she/he vanishes. Joey is now living in another city as someone else's foster kid. "Children," I declare. All of my kids are there suddenly, quietly listening. "Grow," I command, and they grow, sprouting like weeds around me, until they are all adults. Adult clothes form on them, and they walk out the door. Immediately they forget where they came from and remember only new adult lives for themselves. They will all have a place in the world waiting for them. Grandma and Grandpa go to bed, and get the rest they deserve. I am happy, truly happy at long last. I walk out the door myself, and stand in the grass. It feels cool on my soft, painless feet.
And then, I hear it...
"Wake up, Mommy!"