I’ve had her cell phone since I put her in the bath in her Airbnb in Rapid City. But she hasn’t once asked for it or questioned where it is. I haven’t gone through it or read her texts, but I did check her calendar to see if there was any mention of birth control or a doctor’s appointment. The only thing I found was a reminder for her to get another birth control shot next week, which I deleted.
If she insists on getting the shot, I won’t stop her, but even if she hasn’t agreed to having a baby yet, I have no intention of stopping fucking her, or not filling her with my cum. I want her pregnant as soon as possible, and unless she actively seeks out a doctor to stop that from happening, I won’t be reminding her.
Lifting her into my arms, I carry her downstairs, then sit down on the sofa with her on my lap. Leaning forward, I pick up the iPad from the makeshift coffee table and hand it to her. “Order us some furniture, wife.”
Taking the iPad, she starts to scroll through home decor websites, while I turn on the TV. After an hour, and with a new couch, a dining table, chairs, and a coffee table ordered, she lowers the iPad to her lap and turns to face me.
“You want to have a baby?”
“As soon as possible,” I inform her.
“That’s crazy.”
I open my mouth to remind her yet again that I have medical proof of my mental health status, but she interrupts me.
“I know, I know, you have a note that proves you’re not nuts. But this”—she waves her hand in the air angrily—“is fucking nuts. We’ve known each other for less than a week and been married for three days, and you already want to have a baby.”
“Yes,” I tell her simply.
“We’re not having a baby,” she says dismissively, picking the iPad up again and pretending to look at the screen, even though she’s just on the checkout screen confirming the last order she made and there’s nothing new to look at.
“I’ve ejaculated inside of you many, many times. You could already be pregnant,” I inform her.
“I’m on birth control,” she snaps.
“Birth control isn’t one hundred percent effective.”
“Then you need to start wearing condoms or pulling out.”
“No.”
“No,” she repeats loudly.
“No. My ejaculate belongs inside of you.”
“Cum,” she shrieks. “Call it cum, for fuck’s sake.”
“All of my cum is solely for your cunt,” I say slowly and clearly.
Neither of us speaks again, and the room settles into a stiff silence, only broken by the sounds of the TV.
“Why?” Doll finally asks, her voice so low I barely hear her.
“Because I want us to be a family.”
“And that can’t be a family of two? What if I never want kids? Is that a deal breaker?”
“You do want kids,” I say confidently.
Rolling her eyes, she sighs. “Fine, I do want kids, but not a week after meeting my husband. What’s wrong with waiting ten years? I’m only twenty-three.”
“But I’m not. I’m thirty-eight,” I remind her.
“So you want to baby trap me because your biological clock is ticking?” she asks.
“Yes,” I admit bluntly.
Her eyes widen, and she stares at me like she can’t believe I just admitted that, but I don’t lie. Lying has never made sense to me. I’d rather just be honest.
