Disclaimer: Everyone in the story is 18 years old or older at all points. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is happenstance.
I had always heard that significant changes in your life don't happen when you plan them. Sure, you can plan a wedding or when you graduate from college. But the most significant changes will happen unexpectedly. That is what happened to me.
It was on a rainy Tuesday afternoon. I received a company-wide memo. It instructed everyone to be in the office Wednesday without exception. I remember walking into the office, and everyone was so nervous.
We had several hushed conversations, wondering what was happening as we waited. Finally, at 9 am, we were all gathered in the main lunchroom. The HR manager pulled a small group of people aside, including me, and told us to proceed to the HR department.
I thought I had done something. Instead, I discovered that the group sent to HR was the only employees retained after the downsizing. The economic changes had caused some of the key investors to pull out.
The cuts were brutal; only 38 people kept their jobs when the dust settled. Of that, my department only kept four.
After the dust settled, management decided it would only maintain our installations rather than take on any new work. That was because I was the only developer left after the cuts. In addition, a rumor said that the remaining investors would have shut down the company if it weren't for lawsuits.
I have always had a good relationship with my boss. He told me I was kept over some of the other developers because I was several months pregnant.
The job market in St. Paul was not very good, and no one would hire a pregnant woman in any economy. They would not say that to your face, but that was the reality of the job market. The closer I was to giving birth, the lower the prospects were of getting anyone to hire me, no matter how skilled I was.
We needed the money from my job and the insurance to pay for the baby. The layoffs also meant that I would no longer get overtime pay and that things would be tight.
I am so happy it's finally the three-day weekend at that. I thought as I woke up to the sounds of birds outside.
No use lying in bed any longer grinding over things I could not change, so I climbed out of bed not to wake Ken. He was still sleeping.
He worked all the hours he could to put aside money for when I had to stop working. Neither of us had any illusions that I would be going back once I left the company on maternity leave. I would be lucky to get any kind of work for months.
I went to the bathroom, pulled my gown over my head, and tossed it into the hamper. Then, looking in the mirror, I examined the changes in my body. I had to admit that at 26, I still had a lovely body, even if I was getting a little more prominent in the middle.
My breasts had always been a little large for my 5'1" frame. They were usually 36C, but at five months pregnant, I guessed I was now closer to 40D. My belly was pushing out a little, and my size two clothes no longer fit, but I had not ballooned out as some women do.
Turning sideways, I could see that my ass was almost as tiny as before getting pregnant. I was hoping that I would get my figure back after the pregnancy. I know that Ken hoped that I would keep the larger breasts.
I brushed my teeth, threw on a jogging suit, and entered the kitchen. Then, putting a pot of coffee on, I sat in the kitchen, looking out the back window at the park behind our house.
We bought the house because the park was so close and had a lot of trails and playgrounds. We both loved the outdoors and wanted to have kids who would have somewhere safe to play.
I could see people walking on the trails and riding their bikes next to the ball courts. It looked like a beautiful day to be outside. I would get Ken up in an hour and get breakfast at the bagel vendor next to the park.
Grabbing a cup of coffee, I logged in to my computer.
I checked my email. Normal crap. That done, I started looking for advice on cribs and car seats on a few different parenting sites.
Unfortunately, most of the links were to marketing sites belonging to the manufacturers or distributors and not the impartial advice I sought.
I finally found a blog with what I was looking for and spent the next half an hour browsing the posts. Not finding what I was looking for, I entered the chat area, wanting to know what others were discussing.
"I want to know why all the marketing for babies is towards the mothers. I have as much say in my daughter's clothes as her mother does," David wrote.
"Mothers make most of the decisions for them," Gina wrote.
"That is sexist," David shot back.
"If you carried the kid inside you for nine months and had your body destroyed, you would have a vote in this," Gina wrote.
I asked if someone would help me with my questions. "I am a first-time mom and want a safe crib and car seat for my child. Any ideas?"
"You are in the wrong forum, dear," David wrote. "The only discussion here is why men have no say in what their kids wear."
"Maybe your wife would listen to you if you knew something," Gina said.
Getting help here was not an option. I moved my mouse up to close the browser when I got a notice of a private chat request from Mr. Thompson.
I accepted the request and opened a new window.
"Hello," I typed.
"I want to apologize for the others. They have been going at it for about an hour, and most of the rest of us have left." Mr. Thompson replied.
"I understand. I was leaving myself before I got your invite. Can you help me?" I replied.
"That would depend on what kind of help you need. LOL. Why don't we start over, and you can tell me your name...."
"I am so sorry. I don't know where my manners are. My name is Lisa, and I am a new mother looking for suggestions. I need to buy a crib before the baby gets here. I will also need a car seat to bring it home from the hospital," I told the person in the chat.
"Nice to meet you, Lisa. My name is Mr. Thompson, and I think I can help with the suggestions. Do you have a price range or a brand preference?" he wrote.
"No preferences, and the price, well, things are tight, so I want something good but not too expensive. Mr. Thompson? Mr. is a funny first name. LOL," I wrote back, "Do you have a real first name?"
"Most people call me Mr. Thompson, but I guess it won't hurt if you call me by my first name," he wrote back.
I waited to see if he was going to type anymore. Then, after it looked like he would not say anything else, I sent another message to him.
"So, what would your first name be?" I asked.
"You, my dear, can call me Pop," he replied.
I was getting annoyed at his responses. "Are you going to help me or not?"
"I don't know why you are giving me attitude, dear. I took time out of my day to try to help you, and this is the thanks I get from you?" he replied.
I felt like an ass because he was right. I should not have gotten snarky when he did nothing to deserve it.
"Sorry, it's been a bad week, and all I wanted to do was do some planning. We won't have much extra money, and I didn't want to buy things I would hate later," I responded.
"I am sure being a new mother is stressful, but you can still follow the rules of a civilized society, dear. "He replied.
"It's more than just being a new mother. My company let most people go, and my workload has gone up. I don't know if I will still be there when I give birth, and I am sure I won't have a job to return to after the baby is born."
"Why don't you start at the beginning and tell me what the problems are? Then, afterward, I am sure that we can figure out something to help," Pop told me.
We spent the next hour talking about my job, the downsizing at my company, and how my pregnancy would hurt my career. Pop listened, and as I ran out of things to say, the topic turned to more personal items.
"Have you and Ken been able to spend quality time together? I know you said he was working crazy hours to save up for when you took leave," he asked.
"Sadly, not as much as I would like. Ken works seven days a week anymore, and since I started showing, Ken seems reluctant to touch me," I told him.
"Maybe you should initiate sex instead of waiting until he has time. Is he still in bed?" he asked.
"The last I checked, he was," I replied.
"What does he wear to bed?" he asked.
"He sleeps in his boxers."
"Why don't you go up and gently pull back the covers? Then, pull your husband's dick out of his boxers and start licking him. If that doesn't wake him up, slip his dick into your mouth and start sucking."
"I couldn't do that. Ken pisses out of that thing," I told Pop.
"It's a dick, not a thing, dear. Are you telling me that you have never given him a blowjob?"
"He asked a couple of times, but I told him it was gross."
"You are being disrespectful to your husband, dear. Every woman should give her man a blowjob every time they have sex. Has he ever licked your pussy?"
"He tried a few times, but I think that is as gross as me putting his thing in my mouth," I replied.
"Child, you have so much to learn about sex and the pleasures it can bring you. If I were your husband and you kept saying no, I don't know how long I would put up with it. I would eventually find someone else who would suck me off."
"Ken would never do that to me," I told him. But, of course, he didn't know Ken at all.
"Sweetheart, he is no different than any other man on the planet. We all want a beautiful woman on her knees with our dick in her mouth, sucking the cum out of our balls.
"You said that Ken had lost interest in having sex with you. Did it ever occur to you that he got tired of you not doing your wifely duties?"
