Chapter 42

Linc put his Resnokov disguise back on and did the transfer of money in Casper, Wyoming. The drop point was in a library at the University of Wyoming. Resnokov left the briefcase at a certain table, and then left.

David was sitting at the opposite side of the table, reading through a history of WW II. He was wearing enough of a disguise to not obviously be ‘mini-Linc’, and appear as a U of W student: he had a CU hat and was wearing tennis shoes. Apparently, that was SO far away from his normal combat-style boots that he thought it would hide him. When a middle-aged man sat at the opposite side, next to the briefcase, David just snapped his photo, several times, using the button camera that was hidden in his US flag lapel pin. The man didn’t even look at David.

When the man left the table, with the briefcase, of course, he was followed by a distinguished older man in his mid-fifties. Linc had disposed of his disguise and was carrying it in his shopping bag. The man went into the Re-elect Cheney office, Linc took some pictures of the entry and went on past. That was enough.

’Terrible tradecraft,’ thought Linc. But nobody else was watching. At least Linc didn’t think so.

My phone rang an hour later. It was Mr. Rush. “Good afternoon, Ms. White Owl. The plans for that Post Office in McKesson Creek have been approved.” That was the agreed upon signal that everything had gone as planned. “Just thought you’d like to know.” It was a brief call.

I called Linc immediately. “I think we can all go back to our day jobs. Speaking of which, should I put David on the payroll?”

“If you can, yes,” he replied. “I want to integrate him into your protective detail, eventually. He’s well trained and I think he’s safe.”

I thought about David’s thoughts about me. I didn’t think he was so safe. But it was in a different context than Linc had meant.

...

As the months passed, s.l.o.w.l.y., I got more and more pregnant. Well, I mean I couldn’t get MORE pregnant, I meant that the babies got larger; and I passed through the ‘I swallowed a basketball’ stage, into the ‘I swallowed a beach ball’ stage and was rapidly approaching the ‘O.M.G.! I inhaled a rapidly expanding weather balloon’ stage. I could only wear a tent; and when I tried to walk, I waddled like a drunken duck.

Jim and Alex, on the other hand, were having a grand old time. They were playing with the Wokita, one at a time each. I learned that the dogs could easily communicate with them long before I could. You see, I kept wanting to use words. They didn’t have any words. The dogs told them stories with pictures. Stories about chasing rabbits, stories about playing in the snow, stories about being excited when the boyz came out to toss frisbees. All sorts of things.

And the dogs’ feelings weren’t hurt when the babies would drop off to sleep.

...

Finally, it got to be May. Rock and Bear took turns laying next to me on the big bed. They rubbed my belly with good smelling lotions, varying the content of the formulas from day to day. Along with the rubbing, they’d talk to the kids. And the kids would listen! Their movements slowed down and I could monitor their brains to know they heard the words. They didn’t know what they meant, but they heard. And they could distinguish the different voices of the two daddies.

My breasts had gotten huge. Well, huge for me. I was never more than a A+/B- in the boob department. Now I was a floppy C. Rock loved it. Bear did too. Sometimes at the same time, which was getting me hornier than a horned toad. As the time got closer to the day I figured was THE DAY, they (the boyz) each got a taste of my milk. It wasn’t much at first, but I had to actually slap Rock when he started squeezing my nipples and called me his favorite cow. When he brought me a cow bell on a collar, I threatened to cut him off for a year. The bell disappeared at that point.

“I’m sorry, hon. You know you’re my favorite mommy of all time,” Rock apologized.

“I’m not comfortable, just now,” I said. “And I’m so horny, I can’t stand it. AND I CAN’T DO ANYTHING. Can’t boink for shit. When you manhandle my boobs, all that happens is I get HORNIER.” I broke into tears. “I can’t even reach my pussy. GAAAAHHH.”

That got Bear into the room. Rock looked at him. “I don’t know what to do. If I touch her boobs, she says it gets worse. I don’t dare touch her clit. She’d explode.”

Bear told him, “Kiss her. Play with her tits. I’ll take care of her belly and lower parts.”

He still couldn’t call it by any of the more vulgar names. I never understood why. I called my ‘lower parts’ a pussy, a cunt, a slit ... and worse when I was doing the dirty. Of course, I never said anything worse than ‘doing the dirty’ or ‘boinking’ or just ‘doing it.’ I couldn’t understand why I did that either. I could never use the word that started with ‘f’ and ended with ‘ck’ – and it wasn’t firetruck, either.

I spent several days and nights nearly naked and making a mess with leaking teats all over the bed. And having Bear rub my belly and gently stroke my sex. I couldn’t cum, but I was going out of my head with horniness.

The babies were more and more excited as I got worked up.

Finally, about a week before the full moon, I was woken up by Alexandra. She was fighting through the sac that surrounded her. My water broke. Or HER water broke. Or one of them broke. Her arms were flailing around. She grabbed her brother’s foot and that broke that sac, too. It was 4:17 in the a.m.

I back handed a sleeping Bear and shouted, “It’s TIME! I’m having them NOW!”

Bear flipped his pillow over me and pummeled Rock. “Wake up. It’s baby time!” He grabbed his phone and hit a button. “She’s having babies now. We’re going to the clinic,” he said when it was answered. He was out of bed, jumped into a pair of gym shorts and had grabbed me under the arms. He just flat out lifted me off the bed and carried me out to the Suburban.

Rock was, surprisingly, calm and well organized. He picked up his phone, the go bag, and the car keys. I was calm enough to see that the guyz had practiced this. Maybe more than once. We were out the door while Rock was talking to the clinic, “We’re bringing in Lexi. She’s having the twins.”

What? We didn’t have 24/7 coverage at the clinic. The car was even pointing out of the driveway. We never parked that way. All the dogs were congregating at the fence. I concentrated on the babies. I got an ‘I’m okay’ feeling from Alexandra. But James wasn’t ready to be born. I tried not to worry. Babies were born all the time, right?

I looked around and saw the usual guard at the end of the driveway. He was on his phone.

With a squeal of tires, we got underway. I was in the back seat, my head cradled on Bear’s lap. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay,” he coo’d as he rubbed my forehead.

“I know. I’m fine,” I shushed him. “It’s not like I was wounded in a Civil War battle, you know. I’m not even...” A sudden sharp labor pain hit me. “ ... uhhg ... not in labor yet.”