Hi folks, this story was edited with great skill by Baney-R. Any goof ups probably happened when I went back over it and changed a few things. this is a longer story so those of you who like that sort thing can relax with a beer and enjoy it. Those of you who don't can get off of the bus now. But you don't get to whne about it later because you have been warned and have chosen to continue. please note again, this is a longer story. So if you write in the comments below that it was too long you'll only make yourself look stupid. SS06
The ads. We see them in a million places at all times of the day. They urge us to be more than we are. They urge us to be brave. They urge us to go beyond our ordinary existence and shoot for the stars. They urge us to go for our dreams.
"Just do it," they say. "No Fear!" "YOLO!" "Be all you can be!"
That bullshit is what got all of this started. My name is Madelyne Richards and this is my story. It's a really fucked up story so far but I'm still working my way towards the happy ending. A lot of the shit that happened to me is pure bullshit. I'm 100% sure you'll see it my way when this tale is done.
This all started about six years ago when I was thirty. I was happily married to the man of my dreams. My husband Reid is a chemical engineer and a very successful one. He has his own consulting firm. They do all kinds of work that most people never think about.
They do product testing for sports drinks, make-up products, automotive solutions and almost anything that needs to be proven safe for human use or consumption.
We had a lifestyle that was beyond comfortable but not quite rich. But at thirty, it was about to happen. I was about to give up my cushy lifestyle. I was about to begin twenty years or so of hard labor and poverty. I was about to lose most of my husband's love because of something I had no fucking control over.
My mother loved Reid. And believe it or not his mother loves me. I guess that's why they started putting so much pressure on us and wanted to make us leave our easy, carefree lifestyle and enter into the prison of being parents. They wanted to see my body transformed into something that more closely resembled ... Theirs. They wanted to hear the annoying pitter patter of tiny baby feet.
And God knows I wanted to hear it too. I just wasn't ready for it then. I mean on paper, I liked the idea of having a cute little baby. I also loved all of the extra attention I would get. And I looooooooovvvvvedddd the idea of Reid spoiling me even more than he usually did.
I could see myself bravely enduring the morning sickness and sending Reid on all kinds of errands to get me things that I just had to have. I could see the humor in sending him out in the middle of the night for some hard to find food only to find me asleep when he got back with it. I could also see humor in me deciding that I didn't want it, once I saw it, or barfing at the first taste of it.
But what I hated most was the thought of what it would do to my body. I had always been "the hot one," and I didn't want to give that up. I had no desire to become "the invisible woman. I didn't want to just be referred to as Reid Richards' wife. I didn't want that suburban mom body.
Sure there were a few very lucky women who were able to retain their shape and some who actually snapped right back after a pregnancy. But they were mostly super rich Hollywood types who had their own nutritionists and personal trainers and body sculpting surgeons on call. I hated those bitches with a passion.
And even worse than them I hated those track bitches. My husband Reid is an avid runner. He ran track in college and loves to watch those TV track meets that the rest of the world forgets about until the Olympics. There's always some bitch in those meets that took a year off to spit out a perfect baby and then runs her skinny ass back into shape and sets a world record.
Every time I see that shit it makes me want to chase her skinny but muscular ass around that track and beat the shit out of her.
And that was where this story started. My mom had just left after another afternoon of veiled hints and outright whining about not having any God damned grandkids.
I was really pissed. It wouldn't have been the first time I'd told my mother to get fucked, but Reid took her side.
"You're right, Mom," he said. "It's time."
I was speechless. I stood there watching her hug him, while I, the designated brood mare, tried to find words to describe their outright audacity at their decision to turn MY body into an incubator or baby factory for children that I wasn't sure I was ready for.
"You get right on that, Reid," gushed my mother. I hated that bitch at that moment.
"Yes Ma'am," he said, right back to her. "I'll get right on it." Even as he said it, he reached over and smacked my ass, while my mom looked on with glee.
She walked out the door a few minutes later, grinning like a demented Cheshire cat.
As soon as the door closed behind her I slapped Reid on the head. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I asked. "When did WE decide that it was time for us to start our family? My mother does not get to decide what happens with MY body. I mean, I know that you've been sucking her dick to stay on her good side, and I love you for that. But this is something that WE have to be ready for. We can't just start spitting out kids because my mother wants us to have kids now, so she can be a hot grandma."
"Here's my logic," he began. I got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. My husband's logic is not logical. He's the same guy who decided that since that price of superchargers seemed to increase with every generation, he should invest six thousand dollars and buy one for his Mustang, because in a few years it would cost even more. That was three years ago. And it didn't quite work out that way.
While the superchargers for the newer Mustangs WERE, in fact, more expensive, the ones for his Mustang had actually stayed the same and with available discounts were actually much cheaper.
Now this is where his logic fails. Reid saw this as a wash. Sure he could have saved a few bucks, but it would have meant waiting a year or two for the supercharger. In his mind it wasn't worth it.
But in the real world, why the hell did he need a supercharger anyway? What roads were there where four hundred plus horsepower just wasn't enough? I can't think of a single situation where he just had to have over six hundred horsepower.
Maybe it was some kind of guy thing. Because whenever someone came over to visit us Reid inevitably showed them his Mustang. The women always went, "Oh ... It's a car," end of conversation. But the guys always asked, "How much horsepower?"
I have no idea why he didn't just tell them it had six million horsepower and be done with it. I mean there was no way to prove it. He always opened the hood and showed them all of those shiny pulleys and wires. And they always nodded their heads up and down. They leaned over for a closer look and pretended they understood it all.
I asked my dad about it once and he finally admitted to me that he had no idea what all of that shit did. He just nodded and smiled because he didn't want anybody to think that he didn't know what it was for. But I had to go and marry the one idiot who really understood that shit and craved it.
So anyway, when Reid started trying to explain his logic about us having a kid or kids, I got scared.
"Since we know we're going to eventually do it anyway," he said. "Why not just go ahead and do it? Let's just knock one or two things off of the B4K list and then knock 'em all out at the same time. In five or six years it will all be over with."
"Okay Reid what the hell is a befork list?" I asked. "And when did we have one? What the hell do you mean knock 'em all out at the same time? And last time I heard your kids are with you for at least eighteen years not five or six."
He sat me down at the kitchen table like I was an idiot and he had to slow things down enough for me to understand him. The B4K list included all of the things that we'd dreamed of doing that would be curtailed or at least hindered by having kids.
The crazy thing was that Reid was not just pulling things out of his ass. He'd included almost every stupid thing that I wanted to try and his things too.
He'd remembered things that we'd talked about when we first met. I was surprised that he'd remembered that I wanted to learn to surf in Hawaii or that I wanted to learn to ski in Colorado. Hearing him talking about things that I had dreamed of doing when I was younger as if they were really important almost made me cry.
It made me realized exactly how much the idiot loved me.
"So let's go to Europe first," he said.
I vaguely remembered one of his Indiana Jones like fantasies about exploring old castles and new racetracks around Europe. I also realized that I had promised to accompany him. But those had been the promises of a very young woman who was madly in love with the man of her dreams.
The key word here is "MADLY." In other words, I was fucking crazy. My love for Reid was so intense that I'd spent nearly every waking moment, thinking about him. As we spoke in those early days, I wanted him to know me and love me. I wanted him to know everything about me and love me more. But my fear of being ridiculed or rejected caused me to hold back just one secret.
Come on don't be so shocked. We all have our secrets. I have one. You have one too. Don't pretend that you don't. I know about that hidden file folder on your hard drive buddy.
.... There is more of this story ...