How Babies are Made
A Daydream & Distraction by RedBud
- There’s just no way I couldn’t dedicate this to my favorite co-blogger, Monocle. WDITOT? :-)
Gears whirled in and out of shadow. They glistened, metallic and efficient.
She had been bored.
She watched how they made aluminum foil, toothbrushes, balloons, baseballs, hot dogs — all the old “How They Makes Things”. The old programs were on YouTube. She had watched them and now, as she dreamed, the great factory of commerce buzzed and chinked and chinked, and chinked.
She sat in a clear plastic chair, in a line of chairs, clinking along a conveyer belt. A brochure fluttered down, passing her, landing open faced on the clean linoleum floor below her. How Babies Are Made.
She struggled. But she was just one woman in a long conveyor belt of women. Such is the fate of womankind. They are naked. Their legs are spread in preparation, held immobile with a clear, molded plastic. Their arms are held above them, akimbo, and fastened like their legs. The molded plastic stops just at their thighs and parts to cup their buttocks. Their sex is unprotected and open.
Then she looked across the churning sea of metal, gears and conveyor belts.
She saw young men her own age, confined in chairs like hers. There was man after man. Each of their “chairs”, like hers, were fastened to a conveyor belt behind them. Slowly, click by click, they approached each other like the tines of a zipper, like a Y that eventually meets in its middle.
She looked left and right.
The other women weren’t more than three arm lengths away. They looked her just as she looked at them: nervous, anticipatory, unsure. They looked up at the girders and roof. They looked down at the clean, white linoleum floors, even now being cleaned workers.
Click by click the men and women in their plastic seats were getting closer.
She saw a tour group! The tourists were staring down at her and the others. She could just hear the tour guide above the buzzing, busy noise of steel, pistons, pneumatics and florescent lights. “Welcome to Stork Industries,” said the tour guide. “We at Stork Industries only acquire the best produce – checked and rechecked for freshness, ripeness and appeal. You can rest assured, from conception to delivery, our babies are the finest available.”
The conveyor belt carried her leftward.
Woman after young woman was being tilted back. She heard the slight buzz of gears. And now she could see what was happening. The women to her left was tilted back, then her legs were opened by the plastic molding supporting and confining them. A long rod rotated upward, rounded at the end like a dildo and pointed between their legs.
She gasped as her own legs were slowly opened. She had no choice. She glance at the tourists who watched her with eager curiosity.
She hurriedly glanced left again and heard the hiss of pneumatics. The end of the long rounded rod extended mechanically between the woman’s leg. She threw her head back, eyes opening wider, and inhaled as the strange dildo entered her belly. What was happening?
Her own seat tilted her back. She tried to close her legs. She glanced frantically in any direction, then stiffened and groaned as she too was smoothly penetrated with automated accuracy. The rod’s end was smooth, slick and warm. She heard the hiss of pneumatics, her eyes fluttered and she arched as she felt a warm fluid pumped into her. She could smell KY.
She struggled but a factory is efficient and indifferent. Her opening was warmly filled and the dildo was withdrawn.
She was tilted upright again as, click by click, she drew closer to the men opposite her.
She saw the tour guide, on an observation catwalk above her, follow her progress. “We only choose the freshest produce,” said the tour guide. “Nothing we use is second hand.”
She was a virgin! They were all virgins!
The tourists watched her intently as she began to pant. The KY smelled like cherry but was spiced. Her opening and abdomen were growing warmer and warmer. Her nipples were hardening. She couldn’t hide them. She could do nothing!
She nervously glanced left just as other women, to her right, were glancing at her.
Vast wheels turned beneath each of them. She saw the woman ahead of her positioned, her ass forced back while her torso remained upright. Her legs were widened. She panted, stiffened and then her eyes and mouth grew wide. Her arms, already akimbo, were drawn back, thrusting her nipples forward. What looked like two small ball bearings at the ends of polished, chrome rods, touched her nipples, she stiffened with a high-pitched exhalation, then seemed to go slack, mouth open, eyes half lidded.
Before she could decide what had happened her own posture had been adjusted.
She felt a warm, rounded pressure against her anus. She stiffened than grunted as the smooth cylinder slipped unto her. She was being watched by the women to her right, just as she had watched. Her arms were drawn back, pushing her nipples forward. Then she stiffened and gasped as the mirror smooth ball bearings found her own nipples. A current buzzed between her nipples and the smooth penetration in her ass. She couldn’t breath. She groaned. A strange, buzzing pleasure caused her abdomen to spasm and her nipples to tingle with stiffness.
“Next,” said the tour guide, “you can observe what I’m sure you’ve all been waiting for.”
The young men across from her were close enough to see clearly. There was a man directly across from her, just as there was a man across from every woman. The conveyor belts, click by click, slowly brought them together. They looked at each other. Two ball bearings were at his nipples and he had also been penetrated. His cock was impossibly rigid and seemed to throb and twitch with the buzzing, tickling current that pleasured them both. He was cute, but maybe not the boy she would have picked at a party.
“They are carefully matched…” she heard the droning tour guide above her.
The young man was gazing at her body, her swollen breasts and erect nipples, her opened legs, knees bent, as if she were waiting for her lover. The tip of his cock glistened and was beginning to drip. ‘How can he find me sexy, like this?” she thought to herself. “Typical…”
She gasped as something slender slipped into her pussy.
The young man was watching her intently. Yes, she remembered, something about taking her temperature – making sure she was ovulating. A green light flickered over her head and the thermometer was withdrawn.
The young man was only a few feet away.
She struggled again but was held fast and motionless
She heard a deep groan to her left. The woman had been spun face down over the man opposite her, who faced upward. A long, curved, large, and clear glass dildo, like a hook, had penetrated deeply between the woman’s opened legs. A cylinder encased the man’s cock below her. He was stiff and trembling as the back and forth motion of a piston began to pump.
She turned back to the young man across from her.
It wasn’t long before she heard the explosive exhalations of the young man and woman to their left. Then there was a click. Wait! She was being spun upward as the young man was being swung under her. Her own nervous breathing sounded like little squeals until her eyes rolled with a guttural moan. She had never been penetrated lie this – never so deeply or to such a depth. She was a virgin! But why? Nerves that had never been touched before responded with a welcoming pleasure. The glass was smooth and the bulbous tip was like warm knot deeply in her belly. She wanted to move on it. She wanted to explore the places it opened inside her.
The man beneath her was losing focus as his cock was pumped.
The buzzing between her nipples, her ass and the dildo was causing spasm after spasm. She was going to come. There was nothing she could do to stop it. The gear work was indifferent to the struggles of her toes and fingers. The giant glass dildo drew back quickly, then slowly pushed and pushed deeply into her. The dispassionate whine of servos opened her legs wider, somehow allowing the dildo to push more firmly and deeply into her belly.
She was coming.
The young man watched her involuntary throes.
It was her that made him come. His mouth opened with surrender and the muscles of his glistening abdomen tightened again and again as he surrendered his fluids. Their eyes locked. The efficient whine of machinery, pumping his cock and penetrating her belly, were all that connected their bodies. Saliva dripped from her lower lip onto his as she felt the bulbous pressure of the the dildo push one last time, then click, locked deeply in her thin belly. Her belly filling with the thick stream of the man’s warm ejaculate, impregnating her.
She was coming again.
She could barely focus as their positions straightened.
The pump lifted from the man’s cock and the glass dildo was slowly withdrawn from her body, slick and glistening with their mutual orgasms. She felt limp. The ball bearings were removed from her nipples and the smaller dildo was removed from her anus.
She jumped when a cold, metallic arm gently jabbed her under her belly button: a sticker! – Stork Industries! – a colorful little sticker just like the kinds in the produce section – on fruit, apples, bananas or a tomato.
She knew she was dreaming when all she could think about was the sticker.
She hated them.
She knew she was dreaming. All she could think about was how she would remove the damned sticker before she had the baby.
And even though she knew she was dreaming, she felt for the sticker as she woke, just as her husband shook one last time between her splayed legs.
“What were you dreaming?” he growled.
“What time is it?”
“If that doesn’t do it…”
“Oh, that did it,” she breathed, as if in a stupor. “Call it a woman’s intuition….”
December 9, 2010
© 2010 William Crimson