Marys Movie Night Ch 08 The Thing

Minor spoilers for John Carpenter's classic The Thing. If you haven't seen it, you really should.

There's no one to blame.

We didn't know it at the time, but it was this particular group's very last movie night at Mary's place. It was my turn to choose the movie and because it fit my mood, I picked John Carpenter's

The Thing

. If you haven't seen it, the thing is an alien monster that can look like any living thing--dogs, people, whatever. The characters are trapped in a base in the Antarctic and everyone is looking askance at everyone else: any one of them could be the thing!

Sitting there waiting to watch the movie, I felt the same thing. All of the women there (with the exception of Cindy McGill, who is too old) are pregnant. All of the women there (with the exception of my wife Susan) are pregnant with my child. And all of the women there (with the exception of Belinda) are currently keeping that secret from everyone else.

In the movie Kurt Russell's character is able to unmask the Thing in a jump scare scene that surprises me every time. He has everyone tied up on a couch, so his unmasking produces some unexpected results. Unfortunately, in Mary's living room, the monster appears to be me. All my infidelities and indiscretions live within our single block of townhomes. I could be in the picture (if not the actual father) for five kids with five different mothers in just a few months. Assuming, of course, the none of them have twins. And I feel like it's all about to be revealed.

But I'm jumping ahead.

On Monday, I notice that Peter and Belinda are home after visiting her folks. She's starting to look a bit like an inverted question mark, as her belly is starting to show. They both have dour expressions.

"How are you guys doing? I haven't seen you in a while," I inquire.

Peter replies with "Just back from the in-laws. Your baby is doing fine, by the way." Belle looks at him somewhere between tears and anger.

"Let's step inside, Peter. I think I know how to fix this," I reply. "You guys were thrilled to be having a baby. You still should be. This is going to be your child, no matter how the DNA got matched up. So why now the jealousy?"

"

He's

off doing his own thing.

He's

made some extramarital commitment to that harpy, Cindy McGill. I'm mad because he won't touch me," Belle said, spitting the words out.

"So you'd be happy if he just stayed home and took care of your needs?" She nods. I look at Peter.

"What about you, Peter? You love her, right?" He nods. "So what's the problem?"

"Cindy has rules."

"Hmm... isn't one of those rules that you have to obey everything I order you to do?" There's a wary glint in his eye. Belinda looks at me funny, wondering what I'm going to do.

"There's a simple fix here. Peter, I'm ordering you to take all future orders only from your wife, no exceptions, not even for Cindy. Not even if she says pretty please." Petey is a bit thick, I think. He doesn't respond. "Got it? I need to hear that you understand."

"Got... it..." he finally croaks out, and then: "To hear is to obey." This has some conviction behind it. Belle is looking at me like I should win the Nobel Peace Prize. She comes over and gives me a big kiss... on the cheek.

"Daddy," she says, in her little girl voice, "Peter and I are having a son. I hope he turns out just like you."

Having achieved world peace, I go on to see another future baby mother, Mary. It's her day off, so I'm late in seeing her.

"Where have you been?" she greets me. She has on the pink scrubs with miniature white baby-delivering storks today. Her face is rictus of unhappiness, her beady eyes measuring me carefully for a casket if I respond unfavorably.

"I fixed up Pete and Belinda's relationship, so they won't be a distraction to us anymore." The

us

in there is pretty suppositional.

"Did it involve you boning her?"

"Nope. My bone is pristine and has your name on it."

"Then quit standing on the porch. Get in here and give it to me."

Tuesday after work I visit Levon and Lakeisha. Levon's watching a Disney film with the kids, so I join Lakeisha in their den. She's playing Fortnite.

"Mom needs a break," she says. "Man, you really knocked me up and that's knocking me for a loop."

"You sure you're not mad?"

"I'll certainly be cursing your name when I'm in the delivery room. Just now, though? Nah. You should see how turned on Levon is as a result too. It's wild."

"Nice move," I comment on the game. "Too bad, in some ways, that it was only that once."

She hits pause on the game and looks me in the eye. "Never has to be just once. You working your other problems out?"

"I think so. Come to movie night."

"In the meantime, let's go upstairs. Levon will join us when the kids are in bed. I can hear him getting them ready now."

She leads me to the master bedroom and close the door. Lakeisha's curves are lovely next to my body and our mouths complement one another. I slip off her top and she returns the favor.

I am confronted with her mighty nursing bra. One-by-one I loosen the tabs at the back. Her hand is stroking me with encouragement, but her eyes are smirking at me.

"Boys. Always pawing at the titties first," she says. The last hook surrenders. I pull the appliance down and off. The titties in question swing free, brown and heavy. I gently stroke them and am rewarded with thin white droplets of milk seeping from the tips.

"I'm weaning the little one. It's healthier for the baby to give these a rest first. That means, though, that they're super full." I put my lips to the one on my left. Her sweet nectar floods onto my tongue. She sighs with a hint of relief.

The door cracks open and Levon sneaks in.

He sheds his clothes and climbs onto the other side of the bed. I can see he's watching us. Lakeisha and I pause to shed our remaining clothes. Then she kisses him, saying, "I want you both tonight. You remember your one fantasy? I think tonight is the night, babe."

I look quizzically at her, but she just says, "You'll see."

Our lips meet again and she's stroking me. I feel between her thighs, where's she's smoothly shaved, wet, and ready. She pushes me back on the bed, laying me out flat, and coming to straddle me.

Her heavy teats swing free between us as she backs against my salami. She reaches down and adjusts me to find her slick depression.

"You're going to cross swords with Levon tonight, honey, because I want both of you in me--in the same hole together. You ready for that, baby daddy?" She doesn't wait for a reply. She impales herself on me. I grab her hips and we do three quick thrusts, her milk sacs jiggling between us.

"Yeah, oh... oh... yeah. Get in there Levon."

He crawls behind her on the bed, one hand holding his cock. He crawls closer. Pretty soon, I feel him poking around near where I am inside her. She and I hold steady, letting him feel his way. He's slow and methodical.

She wasn't that tight before, but the extra stretching is tightening her an inch at a time. It's happening! I can feel another warm throbbing body slipping up to join me inside. He's covered himself with lubricant, so everything is slick.

He thrusts once and is fully inside.

"Uh!" she huffs. Our movements are slow, as everything is full. I'm gripped tightly, feeling her pulse and, I realize, Levon's pulse thudding out of rhythm with my own. I push, push, push, reveling in the intimate ballet. My hands are on her nipples and she's leaking a steady stream. Levon thrusts and thrusts. Then he groans and I feel it! His stiff rod jerks and jerks and everything around me gets wet and hot. Lakeisha screams and her tits spray all over me. Levon slips out and I am free to pound up into her molten recesses before I, too, am overcome and flood her.

On Wednesday, around noon I took a break for lunch, thinking I'd get to know Amanda a bit better. Since she moved into Cindy's place there had been some energetic evenings of extravagant intercourse. There's nothing like having a second greedy woman guiding your every move, ensuring that you inseminate your youthful partner repeatedly each night. But I felt like I hardly knew her.

No one answered my knock on the door, so I entered. Amanda's little boy Steven was curled up asleep in his crib, sucking his thumb. I tiptoed past and mounted the stairs. I could hear something coming out of Cindy's bedroom.

Peering around the corner, I was greeted with quite a sight. Cindy was prone on her back, her graying hair sprayed out around her head. Her skinny, wrinkly thighs were apart, knees bent, so that Amanda could be positioned between them.

Amanda was penetrating her with a strap on rig complete with the most surprising dildo I had ever seen. It must have been twelve inches of translucent fluorescent orange rubber. It was coated in globs of lube and Cindy's own fluids and Amanda was expertly thrusting it into her with a slow provocative cadence.

Cindy moaned with every push into her depths, a profoundly needy siren's call. Whales in the Southern Ocean were no doubt, at that very moment, altering course northward in response to this mating cry.

Amanda too was crying out her protestations of love. "Ohh... Cindy... ohh... I love you, baby..."

I consider slipping downstairs and leaving Amanda a note. But seeing that vibrantly colored protuberance covered in Cindy's cream, I pause to watch.

Cindy is confessing her own feelings in return to Amanda, her voice dry and raspy as always, but backed by true feeling. "Amanda, my dove, I only need you. I don't want anyone else. Don't stop. Don't stop."

The interplay of their bodies is beautiful. Interrupting would be wrong.

That night, when I returned to the house, ostensibly to sleep, I snuggle in with Amanda privately. She tugs and touches in a way that gets my attention, but I slow her down.

"I want to help you," I tell her. "I want to help you have what you want with Cindy, without me in the way." We discuss particulars. Later, her handywork distracts us in other ways.

That put some bounce in my step Thursday morning, when, while I was hard at work, the doorbell rang. With some trepidation, I walked down to answer it.

There was Ray.

"I have questions, Ray. Why don't you come in." He does.

"I really appreciate how you are supporting Susan, like with last week's, uh, donation. What did you want to know?" Last week I gave him Susan's sperm sample jar. Only I'd had Levon donate the sperm that were in it. I know it's a duplicitous thing to have done, but then, Susan already had a positive pregnancy test. I had a picture of it in my phone.

"Well, Ray, it's like this. So, Susan's come out as asexual, right?" He nods.

"And she and I have haven't had marital relations in many months, right?" He nods again.

"So how it is that she's pregnant? I saw the test before I gave you the sample." He frowns.

"I think that's a question best saved for Susan," he says. I can see that the pregnancy isn't a surprise, but the fact that I know about it is.

"Well, you're here and kind of insinuated into the situation. I'm sure you were about to ask for a second donation 'just to be sure', right? That is a donation jar in your pocket: you're not just happy to see me, right? But there's no need for a charade. I already know. So, you can tell me: was it natural or did she swing by the sperm bank at work?"

"She used artificial means," he said, clearly unhappy with where this conversation had gone so far.

"C'mon, Ray. Did she pick him from a catalog or did you help out?" His shoes had acquired what I thought was an unhealthy attraction. He stared hard at them.

"It's mine."

"Cool, Ray." I paused. "Do you like movies? I thought you might want to come to movie night..."

Which brings us to tonight's festivities.

Mary's place is not really set up for this many people. In addition to the full complement of neighbors, we've added Ray and Amanda to the mix. I get one of the rock-hard dining room chairs that is pressed into service as a result.

Cindy pours herself some of the jug white wine we usually have available and then offers it to each of the other ladies. None of them take her up on it, bravely claiming solidarity with Belle (who is the only one who is "officially" pregnant). The guys could help with the wine, but Levon broke out a bottle of rye whisky that looked larger before accounting for the tension in the room.

Amanda and Cindy set up the chairs and crudites, since our hostess, Mary, has made herself scarce. Everyone is in their place, with a spot of honor reserved for her.

I'm a little on edge.

The Thing

opens with some Norwegians trying to kill a sled dog from a helicopter. They are extremely earnest in their attempts, but the result is that they blow themselves up in a fiery inferno. I'm worried that tonight's little soiree is going to blow up in my face.

Mary emerges down the stairs, in all her awful glory.

Her hair is down, with the dirty blonde locks hanging to her shoulders. Her beady eyes look mirthfully over the tableau and her piggy nose snorts with amusement to see our faces. Her vicious little mouth has a kind of half grin and she's wearing flaming red lipstick to accentuate her shapeless lips. Her bull thick neck doesn't disappear into the usual scrub top. Instead, tonight, she's wearing a floral print peasant dress with a plunging neckline and no brassiere. Her shapeless sagging breasts sway, barely under control of the garment. Her skin is zombie white marred with blotches and a network of purple veins across her exposed boob's tops. Her nipples are alert, poking uncoordinatedly in different, impossible, directions. Her stolid belly is circled with a macrame belt that has a three-inch wide rhinestone flower buckle right over her belly button. Maybe it's symbolic of the child growing within? Her thighs swell out in their magnificent profusion. Dark blue leggings, which end at her ankles, complete the ensemble. Her unshod feet are blocky and calloused. She has painted her finger and toenails a scarlet color to match her lips.

It's horrifying. I want to ravish her immediately.

The movie starts rolling and there are many parts I don't remember. It's a slow build and the characters are less believable at first.

We stop just before the dog kennel scene: Lakeisha needs a sudden potty break.

"Yeah, game night got me in trouble," she announces, upon her return. "Pregnancy bladder, you know?"

There are a round of congratulations for her and Levon, but each of them give me a surreptitious wink. We're about to restart when Susan suddenly looks green and dashes to the toilet. When she comes back, Ray is solicitous. Everyone is looking at me. I shrug.

Mary pushes play. The dog is not what he appears to be.

The movie moves along, the characters increasingly desperate to figure out what's going on. They suspect that one or more of them have been taken over by the Thing.

All of the characters are tied to the couch as Kurt Russell's character prepares to test them. They cut their thumbs to bleed into a petri dish. He's preparing a red-hot wire, running it back and forth in an open flame, to plunge into each dish. Human blood will do nothing. The Thing's blood will react. Phial by phial, they work through the team. Just four left. Just three left. Everyone is tense. Who is the Thing?

"Ray and I are expecting a baby," she says, quietly. Mary pushes pause. Kurt Russell seems to be staring out of the TV at her, hot wire at the ready. The room is deadly silent. Then Cindy bursts out laughing, with her tightly controlled, dehydrated cackle.

"Of course you are, hon. Congratulations," I say. "I'm happy for you."

"Well, yay for you," Peter chimes in. "Did we mention? We're having a boy. And we're moving," he says, glaring at Cindy," to be nearer to her folks."

"That's wonderful," Lakeisha adds. "Susan, I'm happy for you too. I know you wanted a baby. How long have you known?" She's in on the lamentable trick Levon and I played and wants to be sure there are no surprises later--like a baby that's a lot darker in skin tone that Ray would have expected.

"Several weeks now," she admits, glumly.

Mary's mouth is hanging open and I can see her bursting with her news.

"Also," I say, taking a deep breath, "I hope it's okay for me to tell, Mary, but we're expecting too! And... Cindy and Amanda, do you want to share your news?"

Amanda smiles. "I know I just met all of you, but I feel like I'm joining a big family! Cindy and I are getting hitched. She's going to adopt my son... and we're expecting one of our own, with a little help from our friends," she adds.

Cindy looks like she's swallowed a lemon, since I've messed up her careful plans. She tugs at the collar around her throat a couple of times. Amanda smiles at her and holds up the key. The lock has a new owner.

On the other hand, Mary is beaming. I can finally go sit next to her and put my arms around her. I look into her eyes and we kiss. There's applause, following by some serious snogging by the other various and sundry couples. She has her hand in her dress pocket and I feel where she's clutching a pregnancy test secreted there.

We never did see the end of the movie.

That night, after everyone was shooed away, I was finally alone with Mary.

"Thank you, daddy. I was worried you didn't really want me."

"You have no idea how much you turn me on," I said. I put my fingers in her hair and drew her face closer to mine.

The terrible mouth leers at me one last time. "Are you sure, daddy?"

I press my mouth to hers and commence wiping the thought away. My hand pulls at the rhinestone buckle and the belt flies loose. She feels my pants tented with desire, then brings her hand up behind my head. There's no hurry now: we have all night. We have forever.

I take her by the hand and we go up the stairs. Her bed is unkempt, the sheets and blankets askew. Her wardrobe has been spilled everywhere, where she's searched for just the right outfit for tonight.

I whip the carefully chosen dress over her head and fling it to the floor. She pulls off my shirts. Her mouth is passive as I kiss her repeatedly, heated little bites. Her cheeks are flushed pink as my hands scoop up her wayward teats, feeling the tight tips poking at my palms. I push her back into the bed and dive down the grab at the hem of her leggings.

The blue spandex, stretched to bursting, explodes down her thighs. I whip them off her feet and sling them aside. My vast pregnant goddess is lying naked before me, her hairy alter weeping incense, begging for worship.

I don't make her wait. I push off my own pants and mount the stairway to her forbidden temple. I am ready with my alms, my tribute thick and hard. I feel no horror, only sublime bliss as my offering is conducted to the inner sanctuary, where it is blessed and anointed.

We had to move to the suburbs to find a house big enough for our needs. We need the space because she's working on our third.

Is she unattractive? She only has to quirk an eyebrow at me and I want her. Maybe, even probably, you can't see what the attraction is, but I cannot keep my hands off of her.

She keeps her hair coiled tightly almost all the time. But when she gets home, she'll let it down so that cascades below her waist. It's kind of the opposite of Samson and Delilah and I work hard to ensure she'll never have a reason to cut it short.

Susan and Ray had their child and tied the knot once our divorce was final. I understand they have a second one on the way: she knows a good artificial insemination guy.

Peter and Belle did move to be near her mother. Their son, Bronson, takes after her coloration, which saves some questions. I see them a couple of times each year and they've started talking about having a second child--they want to have the same father as their first. I know someone who knows a good artificial insemination guy.