Part 1

Chapter One

"Heather?" My boyfriend rapped lightly on the bathroom door. "What's wrong, are you okay? Heather?"

"Yeah..." I swallowed thickly and that was a mistake. I threw up some more, kneeling on the floor and feeling like death warmed over.

"Heather?" He knocked some more and I just wanted him to...

"Go away."

I washed my face and rinsed my mouth out, hoping it was over because there wasn't anything left in my stomach. All the Chinese food we'd had for our little romantic dinner had come up. That had been his idea and I hoped Brandon would leave, but of course he wouldn't. He was in love and he wanted sex, probably. I'd made him wait all week and now he was here and I was sick, how sexy was that?

Ordinarily I looked pretty good, but my blonde hair was damp with sweat and matted to my neck and forehead. My blue eyes were watery and red. I'd made a little mess on my brand new blouse, there went sixty bucks down the drain as I tried to wash out the stains, standing there like an idiot in my bra. It wasn't even a real one, just a sexy sheer lace bra so my nice round boobs jiggled half out of it as I scrubbed. My skirt was askew and a mess, but that hardly mattered. I was a train wreck anyway; twenty minutes of puking will do that to a twenty year old girl.

"Hey. Are you okay? You need anything? You want to lie down?" he asked, standing right there when I opened the door, naturally. It was his place, but I'd sort of forgotten that.

"Yeah," I said weakly "I wanna lie down."

Standing up would make me sick again and I let Brandon bring me to his bed. He was a good looking guy and people said we made a cute couple, me being pretty and he being, well, Brandon was pretty too, actually. It was a match made in heaven. I knew he was serious about me, too serious, and I liked him, but I wasn't ever going to love him. I hadn't told him that, of course, but I would eventually, more than likely when I found another guy I liked a little better. Or maybe not even that long as I had someone in mind already. I wasn't a total bitch. I mean that's what people do, and I wasn't lying to him or leading him on. He got full backstage access to my body, so he didn't have anything to complain about anyway.

I'd trade sex for fun any day of the week and twice on Sundays.

"Here we go, wow ... Okay." He went into full-tilt mother mode, showing me how much he cared. Blankets, check. Pillows, check. "Let me get you some water, okay? Do you want some uh, aspirin? Some Tylenol?"

"Do you have crackers?" I asked.

"Maybe, um ... I can go to the store, if you want."

"No, just aspirin, yeah." I smiled at him and the whole caring thing worked nice and cute, but I wished I was in my own bed just then.

After the aspirin and just a little swallow of water, Brandon laid down next to me. It was still early for us, just after eight, and the warm glow from the bedside lamp, and the warm comforter on his bed ... It was nice and I was actually feeling a little better, as long as I didn't move my head around too much.

"Feeling okay?" Brandon asked, his soft brown eyes full of worry.

"Yeah." I nodded. "I'm sorry, Brandon."

"It's okay, Hmmmm ... Do you think it was that Chinese food? Maybe it was bad or something and ... What?" He touched my stomach and I almost laughed.

"It isn't the food," I said, coughing slightly.

"Ummm ... Flu?" He scratched at his unruly black hair, maybe wondering if I had something contagious suddenly.

"Nope." I shook my head and that was a mistake. My tummy lurched and I winced, not wanting to lose it again.

"I don't understand." Brandon wasn't the brightest guy in his class at law school.

"It's morning sickness," I told him and I'd known I was going to have to tell him sooner or later, but I wished I was a little stronger when it happened.

"But..." He blinked at me. "It's night time."

"Brandon." I laughed and closed my eyes as he stroked my shoulder, getting closer and he really did have a one track mind. The boy loved sex almost as much as I did, but he wasn't sick either.

"What do you mean morning sickness?" he asked reasonably and he was playing with my bra strap and I started wondering if he didn't have a thing for sick girls.

"I mean morning sickness." I shrugged in annoyance, not feeling like I wanted to be touched at all. "I'm pregnant."

"What?" He pulled his hand away then and even looked at it for a second.

"I'm pregnant," I repeated and just lay there.

"But ... Heather!" He tried desperately to sort it out. "We always used condoms. You wouldn't do it unless we had protection."

"Yeah." I nodded carefully.

"How come you're pregnant? Did one break? Do they leak or something?" He started talking too fast and it made my tummy spin. "You can't be pregnant. I always wore a rubber! How can we have a baby?"

"Brandon," I said patiently, like he was a child.

"We were so careful. I bought some more today and ... Huh?"

"I didn't say it's yours," I told him as gently as I could.

"What?" He swallowed hard and his brown eyes took on an injured look, his sexy mouth turning into a little frown.

"It's not your baby, I know that," I said. "You don't have to worry."

"What? I love you! I want to marry you! I mean ... Shit! I was gonna ask you, Heather." He looked ready to cry, I thought. "I have a ring on layaway and next month ... What do you mean it isn't mine?"

"You do?" I frowned at hearing that unexpected news.

"Whose baby is it?" he wondered, torn between being really pissed and ... I don't know, something else.

"You don't know him, Brandon," I sighed and just sank back, enjoying that soft warm bed for one more minute before I had to leave.

"But you do." He'd gotten up, not wanting to be next to me, not anymore. He stood up so he could look down and point an accusing finger at me.

"Well, yeah." I smiled despite myself. "Obviously."

"Heather!" he pouted. "How could you do this to me? To us? Do you love that guy? How come you didn't tell me?"

"It was kind of an accident," I said. "I didn't mean to get pregnant."

"But you cheated on me!"

"Brandon, I've had sex with like six other guys since I met you, okay?" I frowned. "We're dating, going out sometimes. We're not going steady or anything, okay? You know that. It's just for fun."

"I haven't been with anyone else," he said, pacing a little racetrack round and round. "I haven't even looked at another girl!"

"Well..." I sighed. "Maybe you should have."

"How can you say that? I didn't want to!" And he fell onto the bed suddenly, or knelt on the floor actually, and leaned over it to take my hands in his. "I love you, Heather. I want to marry you."

"Brandon." I stared at him. "I'm pregnant with someone else's baby, doesn't that tell you something?"

"Like what?" he asked and then shrugged. "I don't care. It's still you. Will you marry me, Heather? Please?"

"You're insane!" I giggled and started moving slowly, trying to get my hands away from him. "I have to go. I'm gonna go home."

"Don't, Heather. Please? I'm not mad, see? I'm not. Don't be mad, okay? Just ... You're sick, lie back down. We'll talk, alright? Please?"

"No. I can't stay." I shook my head, fighting down the bile that rose with my head as I sat up. "I like you a lot, you're sweet and so nice, but I don't love you. I told you that before."

"Do you love him?" Brandon challenged me, still clinging to my fingers. "That other guy? Is that why you let him ... Why you're pregnant?"

"I don't know," I said truthfully. "It's ... Weird, okay? Let me go. I'm going to go home."

"When can I see you again?" he asked and I was slipping away. "Are you breaking up with me?"

"I'll call you, okay?" I tried to smile. "I'm gonna borrow your sweatshirt..." I grabbed his grey 'Property of' sweatshirt off his dresser. "So you know I have to give it back, right?"

"Heather." He remained kneeling on the floor, his body stretched out over the empty bed and looking up at me sadly.

"I'll see you later, Brandon." I left him there and I felt bad, a big load of guilt to go along with the nausea. I could have done that better, but I wasn't in any kind of shape for it.

I knew what his problem was too. He'd invested all his emotions in me, despite my warnings. I'd never promised the man anything and I'd even gone out of my way to make sure he knew I wasn't looking for anything but a good time with him. But he'd put everything into us, into me and him and whatever relationship he'd imagined we had. Now it was time to face it and he was fighting for it, desperate enough to accept someone else's baby growing in my belly. I was doing him a favor and he should have appreciated that, I thought.

Men were just so ... Clingy! Ugh! It was frustrating and it made the short walk back to my dorm only slightly more unpleasant than it otherwise would have been. I had to stop three times to puke in the bushes. But maybe the walking and the puking and just the fresh evening air did me some good because the sickness actually went away finally. It was like that though, although I'd only been going through it a few days. It would come all of a sudden out of nowhere, steal my lunch or dinner away, and then just as fast ... it was gone.

I just wished I could predict it a little better, but like I said, it had only just started so I thought a pattern would emerge eventually. I'd known for certain that I was pregnant almost a week, since I'd missed my period and got a home pregnancy test to confirm it. All it had taken was three times, maybe only the first time, but we'd done it three times bareback in one night and then ... A lot after that. On and off for a month almost, and now I had what I'd always imagined would be a disaster on my hands. I was a college junior and pregnant and unmarried. The one guy who would marry me, Brandon, was a divorce waiting to happen two years down the road. A blind woman could see that, so who needed it?

Chapter Two

"God! You look like shit, Heather," Denise said, my roommate, painting her toes on her bed and watching a House rerun on our little television.

We'd split the cost fifty-fifty, since neither of us had more than twenty dollars in our purses at any one time. That's only because we were always looking for fun though, not because we didn't have any. My parents sent me a pretty decent allowance and Denise was flat out spoiled by hers, but all that meant was that our closets were swollen and we had thirty-six flavors of red lipstick to choose from. It was better being broke anyway, guys liked to spoil us and we didn't feel bad about it if we were strapped for cash. Not that we would have felt bad, but at least we could pretend like we would.

"Thanks," I sighed, closing the door and leaning against it. "At least I'm feeling better than I did before."

"Heh." She shook her curly strawberry hair at me.

Denis was all Irish and we often thought we should switch names. She had a light dusting of freckles over her cheerful cheeks, smiling green eyes, and a petite little body that drove a lot of guys crazy. Seriously, she looked thirteen and I had no idea there were so many pedophiles at college. She was fucking at least two of her professors that I knew of, so that meant she was probably doing four of them, including that dyke English Lit. Prof, Dr. Hauven ... I'd done her as a freshman just to pass her class, but I wasn't a real lesbian. Neither was Denise. We were just opportunists.

"That's good right? If I feel better than shit?" I smiled sarcastically.

"I guess." Denise went back to her toes. "Morning sickness again, huh? Ruined your date?"

"I had to tell him," I said, getting on my bed and crossing my arms over my chest. "Brandon wants to marry me."

"You told him it was his?" Denise looked at me and she actually liked Brandon a lot, not sexually, but she thought he was good for me, like everyone else did. Such a cute couple! She probably thought Brandon and I getting married would be a good thing.

"No, of course not." I shook my head. "I don't want to marry him."

"Oh." Denise nodded and I knew what she was thinking.

"I don't want to marry anybody," I said and then noticed my celphone blinking, sitting on my nightstand where I'd left it. "Hey! How come you didn't tell me I had a call?"

"I forgot," she said with a lazy grin. "You gonna tell your parents?"

"Hmmmm..." I yawned with a little stretch as I reached for my phone.

"Before or after you start showing?"

"What do you think?" I wrinkled my nose and pushed the callback button.

"I think you'll wait until you have the baby and then pretend like you found it on your doorstep."

"That's a good plan..." I giggled. "You just think of ... Stacy? Hey! I just got in."

"Great, there you go..." Denise said to nobody.

"Um, nope. I'm not busy," I said softly, ignoring my roommate. "Yeah, course I'm sure, why? What do you want to do?"

" ... When are you going to tell her?" my roommate wondered.

"Yeah, I can come over." I smiled at Denise and wiggled my eyebrows. "All weekend? Yeah ... Okay ... Of course I can..."

"You should have just told Brandon you're gay," she sighed loudly. "But nobody ever listens to me."

"Yeah, I will ... Yeah, I know ... No ... God!" I was giggling and biting my lip and listening to Stacy while I watched Denise frown. "You are huh? Promise? Uh-huh ... I love you."

"Love?" She gave me a doubtful look and I ignored her some more.

"Stacy..." I breathed, hanging up the phone and looking at it for a long second. There were things I'd wanted to say but couldn't, not with Denise there. Stacy understood that though.

"Going out?" She sat back, straightening her pale legs and looking at her little red toes.

"Yeah, all weekend," I agreed. "Stacy invited me over."

"I bet," she sighed.

"What?" I rolled my eyes as I got off my bed, feeling much better then and I started undressing so I could get a shower and change before I left.

"I don't like her." Denise shrugged. "Doesn't matter anyway, she's your friend."

"You think I'm turning queer?" I laughed. "Don't worry about it."

"I don't care," she said. "Be queer all you want. Everybody's queer; but that girl is just ... Different."

"Yeah, she is." I grinned, pulling Brandon's sweatshirt off and tossing it at her. "You know what they say about straight girls..."

"Yeah, they just haven't met the right woman," she snorted.

"So, maybe I have." I smiled and loosened my bra as she threw the sweatshirt back at me.

"If that's all you want, you could go out with me tonight," Denise offered and I knew she liked me. We'd fucked before, but only when we were a little drunk and it had been okay.

"I thought you were going out with what's-his-name." I dropped my bra on my bed and unzipped my skirt.

"I feel a head-ache coming on." She pressed a hand to her forehead. "Please, Heather? Stay with me. We'll make some popcorn and watch TV and just be pigs all night."

"Oh!" I giggled. "Tempting!"

I pushed my panties down and off, teasing my roommate as my naturally blonde pussy came into view.

"We could give up boys completely!" I grinned at her. "Move to San Francisco and open up a tattoo parlor!"

"Heather..."

"Can you tell I'm pregnant, do you think?" I asked her, turning my body and pushing my flat tummy out a little as I looked down.

"You're pregnant a month." Denise shook her head. "And you're gonna be a mommy, think about that."

"Spoilsport." I wrinkled my nose at her. "Can I borrow your soap?"

"What soap?" she asked suspiciously.

"The one that looks like a cock," I said with a grin. "I wanna get squeaky clean."

"You're so weird, Heather," she sighed. "It's in the bag. There, on my dresser."

"God, I love that thing." I stuck my tongue out at her.

I dug through her toiletries bag, which was like a little straw beach bag until I found her soap-on-a-rope, which looked amazingly like a nice fat cream colored cock, except all the veins and ridges had been smoothed away by constant use.

"Lesbian soap," I decided. "That's what we could do! Make soap!"

"Go away!" she said, ignoring me.

"Jealous!" I giggled and wrapped a towel around me before heading to the community showers.

I didn't know why Denise didn't like Stacy. They'd only met once and then just briefly, and they'd seemed to get along okay. I thought maybe it was just my best friend and roommate feeling a little left out. We had our own boyfriends, but we spent most of our time together anyway. Boys weren't a threat to our friendship either, being just boys like they were and somewhere between dogs and dolphins on the evolutionary ladder. Denise and I were pretty close, and now there was another friend, another girl, and I had been spending a lot of time with Stacy. Now I was going to spend a weekend with her.

I tried to put it out of my mind as I took my shower, washing my body and using that soap the way it was meant to be used. Masturbating with it, obviously, and it really was handmade by lesbian artisans just for that purpose. They swore it was perfectly healthy, so long as you didn't shower with it like three times a day or something. Once in awhile though ... Working that slippery smooth, deftly rounded length of phallus into my pussy felt sooooo good! It felt even better in my ass, believe it or not, and I was just starting to work it in and out, leaning against the tiled wall with my little round butt pushed out nicely, when I was interrupted by a couple of the other girls who shared our dorm.

"Oops!" One of them, Linda, giggled at me and her friend Lisa just pursed her lips.

I might have blushed, but it wasn't the first time I'd gotten caught frigging myself in the shower, so I just pulled the soap back out and gave them a little shrug. I fingered my ass for a little bit anyway, since it was already soapy. Every girl in that dorm was weird in one way or another, trust me. If college had taught me nothing else, it was that everyone has something to be ashamed of and the sooner you get over it, the happier you'll be.

My thing was sex and I didn't mind public sex all that much anyway. I'd masturbated deliberately in front of some of the girls, particularly Amy Welch, that girl was just totally fine! But Amy was straight as an arrow, or so she pretended, and I was convinced. Denise and I would get high sometimes, smoking a little pot in our room and talking about how much we'd like to rape her, but that was just being silly. Still, I could usually get off pretty good imagining Denise holding Amy's squirming body down on my bed while I reamed her tight virgin ass with that soap. I'll admit that my sexual fantasies weren't always what you would call nice, but that's the nature of fantasies and why they're so good.

"Want to borrow my soap?" I grinned at Lisa, a black girl with a big ass. She showed it off too, believe me.

"Uh, no thanks." She made a face under the hot water and I just shrugged. It was fun tweaking some of those girls a little, like she never fingered her ass before? Get real.

Lisa would get her revenge later, when the word got out that I was pregnant and especially when nobody would know who the father was. It wasn't like I was going to tell. So far as Denise was concerned, I told her it was some guy I didn't know, a stranger I'd picked up and let him bang me raw. She was the only one who knew I was pregnant, except Brandon now, and all he knew was that he wasn't the father. That would have to do.

I'd pretty much come to grips with having a baby. Yeah it was scary, and inside I felt pretty nervous about it, but I'd let it happen. It had been about as deliberate as such a thing can be, short of taking fertility drugs or something. Still, I did have to tell my parents soon, before I started showing or they'd really take it badly. It was going to be bad enough when I told them I didn't know who the daddy was. It was going to be a little Armageddon at Heather's house, pictures at eleven! But they'd love me and take care of me and we'd work it out. Parents are like that and if they couldn't handle it, well, they should have thought of that before having a kid, right? I wasn't too worried about them. I just knew it was going to hurt for a little while and I wished it wouldn't.

A baby wasn't the end of the world and I found it kind of exciting to know I had a new life growing inside me. I liked that a lot actually, much more than I'd expected I would. I'd resisted at first and hard, and I suppose a lot of people would call it rape, the first time anyway, but after that I'd been a lot more willing. I'd learned my lesson, so to speak, and even come back looking for more since it had been so good that first time. The fighting, the refusing and being taken, forced to submit and then accepting it with tears and a little anger and a lot of humiliation ... Oh yeah, that had tripped my trigger and I was hooked. I sort of wished I wasn't pregnant, just so we could keep trying, you know?

Probably you don't. Take my word for it, just for now.

"Linda wanted to use your cock ... I mean soap..." I told Denise as I came into the bedroom grinning. She'd started getting ready for her own night out.

"What?" She looked up at me from the bottom drawer of her dresser where she kept her panties for some reason. I kept mine in the top, like most people do, I think.

"Lisa? She wanted to get that big booty ready for her boyfriend," I teased. "I think he's white."

"You let that..." Denise paused, " ... colored girl use my soap in her ass?"

"You almost said it, huh?" I laughed. "You know, white people like you give the rest of us a bad name."

"Fuck you," she said with a wave of her hand. "You got my thong?"

"Which one?" I widened my blue eyes innocently. "The ... colored one?"

"I don't like black people, so what? Where's my thong?" Denise was a racist and she really didn't like having to hide it. I think that's what bothered her the most.

"Look in my drawer." I nodded towards my own dresser. "I borrowed it the other night, remember?"

"Did you wash it?" she asked, getting up and looking at me as I stood naked in front of the mirror and dried my hair.

"Uhhh ... You better smell it first."

"Great." She shook her head. "They name streets after people like you."

"Like what, route sixty-nine?"

"One way." Denise found her thong and held it to her nose. "How come you never wash my underwear?"

"Cause you like it used." I shrugged.

"Oh yeah. I forgot." She rolled her eyes, pulling the thong up until it barely covered her strawberry pussy. That girl was Irish all over.

"I think I wore it the night that black guy fucked me." I pursed my lips. "Remember him? Jamal or ... Hmmm ... Bubba? Was that his name? He was huge anyway."

"Fuck off!" Denise dipped her head in exclamation and I laughed.

"I was thinking about getting a little spade tattoo, a little Q maybe." I played with my damp pubic hair. "Queen of spades right above my pussy, what do you think?"

"I'm getting a little pissed," she warned me and I knew I pushed her a little too hard sometimes.

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm teasing." I gave her a little hug and Denise resisted at first, but finally she let me hold her and give her a kiss, my nipples popping hard against the top of her tits because she's only like five feet nothing and I'm six inches taller. She hasn't got any tits anyway, being the little girl she is, just big puffy pink nipples.

"You're being mean." Denise frowned as I let her go.

"Yeah, it's ... I dunno." I shrugged "I'm pregnant."

"That excuse is gonna get real old," Denise decided and we both went back to getting dressed.

"I only get to use it for nine months, come on!"

"You didn't really fuck a nig ... Black guy, did you?" She glanced at me. "Please tell me you didn't."

"I didn't," I sort of lied. I hadn't fucked one while wearing her thong.

"Good." She smiled then. "You're such a bitch sometimes."

"Me?" I rolled my eyes. "Never mind."

"What?" Denise looked genuinely confused and she really didn't get it at all.

"Nothing," I sighed, promising myself that sometime I'd have to get some black guy to fuck me, and come back and talk Denise into going down on me. That wouldn't be hard and it would really get me off seeing her eat a black guy's sperm and not realizing it. I'd say it was some white guy and she'd never know the difference, but I would.

My phone rang just as I opened the door on my way out. I never carried it with me; I hated phones and I hated people who lived on their phone. Whoever invented mobile telephones was a sadistic troublemaking bastard and I hope he ended up with something really bad, like terminal acne. It really is my one and only pet peeve. My telephone and the fear of becoming enslaved to it like everyone else I knew.

"Answer it for me," I told Denise and she made a face.

"It's Brandon," she said, reading his name on the little screen and it was still ringing.

"I'm not here. Just tell him ... I'm not here," I said and then I left, closing the door behind me as if to prove it.

Chapter Three

I'd dressed sort of sexy, but casual sexy. A pair of old worn jeans that fit my legs and ass tight, they were extremely comfortable and made me look taller than I was, I thought. Some one inch heels, sort of hiding beneath the bell bottoms, but comfortable with big heels, not stilettos or anything silly like that. A tight white t-shirt and no bra, just my firm boobs and hard nipples poking through the cotton. It said 'Dickies!' on the front so, yeah, it was cute. A suede jacket with tassel sleeves and my purse over my shoulder; I was all set for a ten minute walk off campus to Stacy's apartment.

She didn't go to college, Stacy just lived nearby and I wasn't even sure of her age. It could be a little hard to tell with her. I figured about twenty-seven maybe, give or take a year at the most. She'd picked me up in a local club, an under twenty-one club serving soft drinks to college kids who brought their own booze. I'm more into guys than girls, but she got my attention and held it long enough to get me back her to her place and I was ready for it. I'm definitely bisexual and going home with a tall, very attractive, and somewhat mysterious woman wasn't something to frighten me.

Denise had been right, there was something different about Stacy and I'd wanted to figure it out all night. After three years of playing the field at college, different means fresh and that's intoxicating to someone like me. Guys like Brandon were a dime a dozen. Pretty as he was, nice as he could be, I knew five more guys just like him. There was only one Stacy though and that was seriously cool. I just needed to figure out how to tell her I was pregnant. I wasn't frightened of telling her, not at all, just nervous.

She lived at the top of a modern residence, like a brownstone, but with three levels instead of just two, and three apartments. Stacy lived in the top one and it wasn't overly large, and too expensive probably, being in the university district as it was, but it was nice inside. I liked her place a lot and I was going to enjoy having a whole weekend there. I climbed the stairs slowly, feeling my stomach churning a little, but this was excitement, not morning sickness ... I hoped. The last thing I wanted was another round of that. I was sure Stacy would be just as attentive as Brandon had been, but I rather wished she wouldn't have to be. There were other sorts of attention I wanted from her.

"About time, slut," Stacy said as soon as she opened the door.

"Sorry Mistress." I swallowed hard, lowering my eyes as I started undressing immediately. I wasn't allowed to wear clothes in her apartment.

"Lucy, be a dear and bring me slut's collar, would you? It's there, on the bookshelf," she said, turning her head to speak over her shoulder.

I almost lifted my head at that, not expecting anyone else to be there and having no idea who Lucy might be. Luckily, I kept my wits and focused on kicking off my shoes and undoing my jeans, pushing them down my legs and leaning against the wall at the top of the stairs so I could get them off. I pushed my panties down as well, and then pulled my t-shirt over my head, using my movements as an excuse to see another woman standing behind my Mistress. She was tall, like Stacy, and large, not fat, but healthy and big boned you might say, with some real muscles evident beneath her ebony skin. Lucy was very attractive and very black and I almost smiled as I imagined what Denise would have thought of that.

"Chin up, slut," Stacy commanded as she fixed the leather dog collar around my delicate throat.

"Thank you, Mistress," I breathed and risked looking into Stacy's beautiful dark eyes for just a moment.

"She's pretty," the black woman decided and she stepped a little closer. "Wet too."