This work of fiction contains graphic references to rape, birthing and infanticide. It is intended to shock and entertain, not endorse such acts.
I’d heard them; it started in the first week. Her breathless gasps, Daddy’s low mumbled growl, the building tempo, flesh against flesh, pounding. Snippets of words, “Oh yes, harder”. Audible through the crack under the door. I’d held my breath to strain to listen, each sound painting a picture in my mind, knowing the expression on his face, how his muscles ripple as he thrusts, how his hands look gripping onto soft skin.
It played out like a movie in my mind, as I lay alone in the cold spare room, surrounded by unloved storage and unused exercise equipment.
It had confused me that first morning, when she showed no sign of Daddy’s treatment. No bruises, no bites, her clothes intact and a smile on her face.
It changed my mind movie by the second week. Stripped of his usual violent tendencies the sounds left interpretation of lust and passion but without pain. I scoffed, she doesn’t know what she’s missing, yet the idea of Daddy’s loving attention, focussed and given to her made my stomach start to ache. It haunted my dreams, reaching out to an absent Daddy, grazing my fingers against a hard wall; still alone in the single bed.
It had confused me on the second week, how Daddy was acting around her, the smiles, the hand holding, fetching her tea and kissing her hair. He looked buoyant, bouncing around the kitchen.
My observations were quiet, looking, searching for sign of my Dark Daddy, waiting for a wink, a look, a sign, any sign of his intentions. I found none. I knew better than to ask, to break character. Our game would be up. I will pretend and be his good girl so we can keep living here… in hiding.
Daddy knows best and he wants to stay here, here with her. He’s talking about being so happy; it must be part of his master plan, one he will reveal later.
It confused me on the third week, how she was interacting with me, such genuine smiles, caring about my wellbeing and checking I was warm, safe and comfortable. Silly bitch actually believes the ploy. She took the time to “have a chat” with me, to let me know she loves him, MY Daddy, and he loves her too and that meant we would be staying for a while now. I played along, laughing when her back was turned. She doesn’t know my Daddy.
That must be Daddy’s masterplan, this house is nice and the lady feeds us. We’re almost settling into a routine, it’s been four weeks now and Daddy and the lady hold hands and smile at each other. They do it all the time, especially when she gets home from work, so grateful for the all the things he’s done around the house.
Of course he has, he’s my Daddy, he can do anything, and he’s had enough practice, we’ve had so many houses that needed to be fixed, bodies hidden, evidence removed.
I missed his painful loving at first, my Daddy’s hands on me, hurting me, pleasuring me. I’ve found a new way. I wait until I hear the sounds and then I do it myself. Imagining my Daddy as he fucks that woman, taking his belt to my skin to recreate the pain, throwing fists at my face and pulling my hair, thrusting anything I can inside of me, to fill the ache he’s left behind.
I hate fuck myself to the sounds of my Daddy pretending to be in love.
He can’t be in love, can he? My Daddy loves me. Only me.
I’ve been so good and ever so patient, never questioning him, waiting to see his plan play out. He must have a plan. I wear the extra short summer dresses that he likes but he doesn’t pull me onto his lap anymore. I try to nuzzle in, to let him smell me, to wait for the growls to start, fingernails to dig in, to tear at my flesh and show me I belong to him.
But he just pats me on the head and tells me we’re a normal family now. “We’re happy Blade, happy and normal. This is our life. Run along and play like a good girl.”
The bruises and bite marks have faded, all gone. I can’t remember how they used to look, how they got there. The world we lived in feels like a dream. They toys, the chains, their pain, Daddy’s lessons. Was I bad? Does he not want to teach me anymore? Maybe this is a lesson. A long game lesson. I must just be patient.
I ask him one day, a rare question, one I’m safe to venture, at worst I am punished and my screaming craving body gets the attention I so need.
“Is this a lesson Daddy?”
He considers me for a long time. “Yes, my sweetling, it’s a lesson. It’s a lesson about sometimes giving other people what they need.” He says no more and moves away quickly. I read the lust in his eyes and wonder why he denies himself. I need him and he needs me, I don’t understand. In frustration I hurl myself at the floor and wail.
Today there were different noises from their room. Angry noises. Raised voices and slamming doors. Then a quiet, a quiet that I quickly fill as Daddy bursts through the door to take me, a whirlwind of pent up pressure and rampant desire.
Daddy fucks me like he’ll never see me again.
Satiated, gorged on my blood and flesh Daddy explains “She said the only thing she cares about is babies. She says it’s a deal breaker.” He looks devastated. I try to hide my glee. She’s upset him. Good, now we can begin the plan. I knew there was a plan.
Daddy turns to me with a dark look in his eyes and I know he has returned. “If the only thing she cares about is babies, then that’s the only thing she can have. It’ll be the only thing she’ll be capable of caring about.”
I snuggle into his arms and listen to him talk. “Today Blade I will teach you about being careful what you wish for. She wants babies, she says she needs them to be happy. She says she can’t stay with me unless I can give her that. I won’t be tricked Blade. She knew what I wanted, she thought I’d change my mind but she’s wrong.”
I nod to show I understand but mostly I’m just agreeing that she’s wrong. She took my Dark Daddy and made him happy, she took away my pain and loving and Daddy’s attention. She must be wrong.
“If she wants babies,” Daddy says menacingly, “Then we’ll give her babies.”
• • • • •
There are two types of men that answer Daddy’s advert.
Two types of reaction to what’s being made available.
A completely compliant woman ready to take their seed. Heavily sedated she won’t move, won’t fuss, won’t object. “You can do whatever you want.” Daddy offers, “You can even hurt her if you like, she won’t mind. She won’t fight back. She’s all yours for the taking.”
The good men, the ones that seek consent in their actions, they refuse. I take their sample in a little pot instead and we let them leave. The bad men, the ones that will use her, we let them, they rut and pant and have their fun and then Daddy teaches them a different lesson.
Daddy shows them that just because someone else says it’s ok it doesn’t always mean it is and you should check your morals. We keep those men, growing a baby needs good nutrients, rich fresh meat.
My job is to administer the samples.
Without eating any.
An ultimate test in how good a nurse I am for Daddy.
Now Daddy says we just wait for her to get fat, then we know the stork has brought a baby. Then Daddy says he’ll make sure that’s all she cares about. “The fucking baby that’s clearly more important than the unconditional love she promised.”
Daddy stomps around quite a lot, impatient for the lesson to take hold. Some days he mutters under his breath, pointing at her, cursing her down, something about bitches being crazy and already having a babygirl and not wanting another and why couldn’t she just love him for him. On those days he goes away to be quiet, holed up in one of the rooms.
Alone with the mother-in-waiting I do everything to make sure she’s comfortable. Her body must be the most perfect of everything to incubate a baby. She can’t be stressed so I make sure the happy drip is dripping with the sleepy medicines. Daddy says it’s sufficiently alive but not quite awake.
I also need to make sure she’s had enough food so I puree and pour it into her nose feeding tube. Daddy says it’s mostly iron and protein and that’s good for growing babies. The bad men make a delicious soup for us all.
The men that come, they often move her around, Daddy says that’s good for her muscles and joints, to keep her supple.
I tend to our patient every day. I’m making a good nurse, Daddy says so. One day I’ll progress up to midwife and that’s a very important job. I then I get to be surgeon, take away anything that she could care about but isn’t as important as a baby.
I did wonder whether eyes might be a useful thing for a mother to have but Daddy knows best, so they will go first, but not until she’s seen her spawn.
I’m also not sure what cutting out her happy button has to do with babies. But Daddy said she “can’t even fucking use it properly anyway so she might as well not have it.” Like tonsils I guess. Someone at school had them taken away and they can do without them. Her lady parts will still work to make more babies, it just won’t be as fun.
I can’t wait to help this lady and give her what she wants; a baby all of own to look after, to take her attention away from my Daddy. It’ll be so exciting because she’ll wake up just before a thing called a c-section. I don’t really know what that means but I do love how Daddy’s teaching me everything.
He really is the smartest Daddy and I’m being the bestest nurse there ever was. Daddy tells me so every night as he takes me in that violent way he used to, in that way he always will; with a rain of fists and rolling thunder of growls.
• • • • •
It looked so pretty, doll like, swaddled and cute. I could see why the lady cooed over it, little hand gripping around her finger. I could see the love beaming from her, all focussed towards this little person.
A perfect moment of connection.
Despite the drowsy after effects of her sleepy medicine, she was able to see the little creature. She didn’t even notice the gaping hole in her stomach where I pulled it out, wiggling and covered in goo.
I watched them for a short while, her mumbled words gushing about how precious it is, how beautiful it looks. Daddy was right, she would see it and love it and that will be the last thing she will ever see. How lucky she is to have such a gift.
A quiet voice spoke from the back of my mind. Why does she get to have the present?
First she took my Daddy and now she gets the love of this thing too. Why is she so special?
I want it. I want to feel like that. I want that love. I looked after her, I brought the screaming spawn into the world. I deserve that, not her.
So I took the creature and held it just like she did, but once I had it I didn’t feel the same. I wanted it to stop crying. I didn’t want to coo, I wanted to shake it and make it be quiet again.
I didn’t like the ear-piercing levels of fuss so I put it back in and I sewed it up nice and tight like Daddy showed me.
It’s better when it’s inside there where it belongs. Plus I like her all plump and glowing. She’s been a good patient whilst I’ve been learning to be a nurse for Daddy. I’ve watched her baby bump grow and felt so satisfied that I helped make that, tending to her, feeding her body and taking care of her. I won’t have that ruined by the evil bundle of screech.
I made her the perfect incubator, she should be grateful and stay that way.