House Call, Part 2: Daughter of El Jefe (preg, semi-cons, snuff, MF)

This story is a continuation of "House Call". Like the previous 
installment, it contains graphic fantasy violence against a pregnant 
woman and her unborn child. I welcome your comments and I thank God for 
the inspiration. 

House Call, Part 2: Daughter of El Jefe 

The trip had begun the day before, when El Jefe invited the border 
town's travelling midwife to come visit. This invitation could not be 
denied, of course, and the doctor had prepared himself for the worst. 
But El Jefe did not call the doctor to his death. Instead, the leader of 
the area's largest drug syndicate had a job for him. 

The light dimmed as the blindfolded doctor entred the doorway. The door 
closed, and El Jefe's men removed the blindfold. The small room was 
illuminated only by the light from the cracks in the stone walls. He 
faced a door mounted in the rock. "You go in there," one man said in the 
rough tone of someone whose fists usually do the talking. 

The gray-haired doctor turned the knob and pulled, but the door did not 
open. The men behind him laughed with a grunt. Then, the doctor saw that 
the door was locked from the outside. He hesitated for the first time, 
then turned the lock and opened the door. Behind it lay a dark hallway 
and a kerosene lamp. The doctor took a step, but was restrained by a 
heavy hand on his shoulder. "Here," said the talkative guard, handing 
him a Zippo lighter. The doctor took it, noticing the hand-engraved 
picture of a fighting rooster poised for the kill. This would be the 
object El Jefe had mentioned. Its owner was now a corpse, and had no 
further use for it. 

The big man, now tired of talking, pushed the old man into the dark 
hall. The doctor had just enough time to light the lighter before the 
door closed behind him. He lit the lamp, and in its flickering light, he 
saw a black doctor's bag. As before, it would contain the tools he would 
need. 

The hallway led to a stone stairway, which disappeared down into the 
shadows. Picking up the instrument bag, the doctor walked down the 
steep, narrow stairs to complete the task he had been assigned. 

At the bottom of the staircase, the floor consisted of large, flat 
stones, separated by a finger's width. The air coming from the gap was 
stale, and smelled of human waste. As he advanced, he saw that the path 
was lined with bars. They divided the space into four cells on each 
side. At the end of the hallway was another wooden door. Light was 
shining from around the door's frame. The doctor considered knocking, 
but instead stared for a moment into the bright flame of the lantern. 
Then, he pushed open the door. 

With his eyes adjusted to the light, the doctor was able to see the 
room. The stone path drain continued to the far side. In the center of 
the room, a bare light bulb hung from a frayed cord that emerged from a 
crack in the low ceiling. On either side of the drain were two stone 
altars. The altar on the right was a simple square, with chains bolted 
to the top and bottom corners. The altar on the left was a different 
design, and it was occupied. 

This altar was built in the shape of a Y, with the two branches pointing 
toward the center of the room. The woman was laying on the altar, with 
her hips at the junction and her legs chained to the branches. The shape 
of the altar elevated her head and legs, giving the appearance of a 
Mayan version of an obstetrician's exam table. The doctor looked at the 
other altar again, and realized where he was. This was a special torture 
chamber, for couples. The other altar was for the husband, and each 
victim could watch as the other was violated. But the women's altar, in 
particular, was perfectly designed for this doctor's intentions. 

The doctor put out the kerosene lamp, set it down with the doctor's bag, 
and turned to the woman. She had thick black hair, cut very short, as if 
to disguise her silhouette. She was asleep, and her face bore remnants 
of dark makeup that had been used to mask her Cuban skin. But nothing 
could hide her pregnant belly. 

Someone had draped a dirty sheet across her body. He decided to leave 
the sheet in place, for the moment, as he turned back to the bag the men 
had left for him. He found a vial of smelling salts, cracked it, and 
waved it under the pregnant woman's nose. She woke with a start and 
immediately tried to sit up. The chains slammed her back to the cold 
stone, and she cursed roughly. Finally, she noticed the doctor watching 
her. "Who the hell are you?" she asked, with a rough border town accent 
to her Spanish. The doctor recognized the accent as the same rough edged 
speech that El Jefe used when commanding his men. 

"I work for your father," the doctor replied. 

"Bullshit," she shot back automatically. Then, as her head cleared, she 
looked at him again. "You're his pussy doctor, aren't you? The one that 
takes care of his women." She sneered each time she said "his". The 
doctor had seldom seen anyone with such blatant disrespect for the man 
who held life and death in his hands across the region, and he was 
starting to understand why she was to meet such a terrible fate. "You 
kill his babies," she spat. 

"You don't have much respect for him, do you?" 

"Respect? For that fucker? To the devil with him! Ricardo is going to 
kick his ass, and then you bastards will all be screwed." 

"Your father told me to show you this," the doctor replied. The woman 
turned away defiantly as he pulled the lighter from his pocket. She 
stared at the wall until he flicked the lighter open. 

When she saw what he was holding, her eyes widened. "Where the fuck did 
you get that?" 

"Your father said you would know where it came from." 

"I don't know what you're talking about, fucker." But her eyes told him 
otherwise. 

"I think it means that your lover is not going to save you, senorita." 

"Bastard! He's lying! Ricardo is going to cut your head off and piss 
down your throat, you baby killer!" 

The doctor turned back to his bag. It was time to carry out El Jefe's 
instructions. 

"What the fuck are you doing? Get me out of here you mother fucking baby 
killer!" He ignored her profanities as he examined the tools. They 
weren't medical instruments, exactly, but they suited the purpose 
perfectly. He reached into the bag and turned back to the woman. Her 
eyes widened again at the sight of the leather-handled hunting knife in 
his hand. 

"Fuck! You're not going to take my baby, damn you!" She began straining 
against the chains, but previous struggles had left her skin raw, and 
the pain made her stop. 

"My dear, if it is any consolation, you will soon join your baby in 
God's arms." 

"Fuck God! Get these chains off me! You're not going to carve me up like 
you did your wife, dammit!" 

The doctor stopped, and it was his turn to have his eyes go wide. The 
girl's face froze for a moment, but she continued. 

"You didn't think he knew? How you killed her, her and the baby and the 
other girl, and you had to run away to Mexico? You are fucking stupid! 
What the hell are you smiling about?" 

"I hadn't thought about that night for a long time, senorita. Your 
father is wise. You should have respected his wishes. And with that, the 
doctor walked to the woman, pulled off the dirty blanket, and threw it 
on the floor. 

She had been a big girl before she got pregnant, and her large breasts 
lolled to her sides, heavy with milk. Pink stretch marks creeped up the 
light, creamy skin, and her areolas were large and dark. More stretch 
marks drew a picture of beauty on her belly, tracing the expectant 
mother's curves. 

She used to shave her pussy, but her belly was in the way now, and a 
couple of months' worth of dark black fur lightly covered her labia. In 
the lithotomy position, her lips spread open to show the pink flesh 
inside. Her perineum was red, irritated by unwiped urine and semen from 
multiple rapes by her captors. Below that, dried feces caked her bottom 
and the crotch of the altar, down to the drain in the rock floor. 

"You were not treated with respect. I can not give you your freedom, but 
you will have my respect as you die." The doctor's words were greeted by 
another stream of profanity, which he ignored. 

Instead, he opened the box of baby wipes tucked in the doctor's bag, and 
gently cleaned her body, starting at her clitoris. She yelled at his 
touch, and tried again to work her way out of her chains, but soon she 
stopped fighting and kept up the stream of curses. 

"How did you kill her?" she asked as he gently spread her apart to 
reveal her urethra and her vaginal entrance. 

"She died in childbirth," he replied, and started wiping away the crusts 
around her anus. She whimpered a bit as he cleaned the raw skin. "She 
had placentia previa, but we didn't know." 

After he had thoroughly cleaned her bottom, he picked up the sheet and 
used it to cover the shit-stained altar. Then, he said, "I'm going to 
give you an internal exam now, so you will know if your baby was ready 
to be born." She lay still as he spread her again, and slid a bare 
finger into her vagina. His careful attention had done its job, as she 
was wet from the stimulation. Sliding another finger inside her, he 
reached for her cervix. "You are five centimeters dialated, senorita. 
Your baby is head first and ready to be born. I am sorry for what must 
happen now." That was the only lie he had told her, and the last one she 
would ever hear. 

"What is paleta previous?" she asked, incongruously. Hre face was blank 
now, the anger replaced with a combination of fear and understanding. 

"Placentia previa is when the placenta, the pad that connects the baby 
to the mother, is too close to the cervix. It tries to be born first, 
and it tears. As soon as the baby is out of the birth canal, the torn 
spot opens up, and the mother bleeds to death from her vagina. 

As he spoke, the doctor moved to the woman's side. He placed his left 
hand at the fundus of her uterus, jsut below her rib cage. He looked at 
the woman's expression. She still had a blank look, and she hadn't heard 
much of his explanation. "You do not have placentia previa, senorita. 
Your baby would have been born today or tomorrow, perfectly healthy." 

He laid the knife on the back of his hand, and thrust it forward. It 
entered her body just under her sternum, piercing her diaphragm, angling 
down into her chest cavity. The girl gasped and her body bucked, pushing 
the knife in to its hilt, but the short blade didn't reach her heart. 
The doctor pulled the knife back out, and the air in her pierced lung 
sprayed out through the wound and across the doctor's clothes. She 
struggled against the pain to catch her breath. 

After a moment, the doctor reached two fingers of his left hand into the 
hole. She screamed, a raspy, struggled breath. He pushed into the girl's 
abdomen, feeling her liver, then hooked his fingers inter her peritoneum 
and lifted. Her back arched and she bucked again, and he lost his grip 
on the slippery tissue. "Try to be still. This will be over soon," he 
told her. 

She found the words to curse his mother, but her thoughts were consumed 
by the pain, and the fear of her death. She had shown no honor to her 
father, or to any man, not even her dead boyfriend. Not even to God, and 
now she was afraid. 

The doctor grabbed the skin and muscle again with two fingers, pulled 
up, and sliced vertically through the flap. This gave him the start he 
needed to finish the Caesarean section. Adjusting his position, he slid 
his left hand into the gash, and inserted the knife from the top. 
Feeling carefully with the hand inside her body, he used a sawing motion 
to cut along the midline, around the curve of her uterus. He cut to the 
right of her belly button, poking out from pregnancy, then rejoined her 
midline at her very light linea negra. 

His right hand with the knife followed his left hand as it traced her 
uterus, then found her pelvic bone. He wondered why he hadn't found her 
bladder first, then realized that she probably hadn't had anything to 
drink since she the last time she was raped. 

As the cut edges of her belly skin oozed blood, the doctor reached into 
his bag, and pulled out a bottle of water. He put it to her lips, and 
poured a little bit into her mouth. She gagged, then swallowed. He gave 
her another drink, then another. Outside her line of sight, the doctor 
could see her stomach, tucked behind the top of her uterus, moving 
gently as the cool water found its way down her esophagus. 

As he watched, the uterus began to change shape. It pulled away from her 
stomach, shortening in length. Her contraction was powerful, as her body 
tried to deliver the baby before death took over. The young woman 
moaned, then screamed as the cramping of her contraction was amplified 
by the cut edges of skin, muscle, and yellow fat. The final moments were 
at hand. 

The doctor moved back between her legs. Her cunt was swollen, preparing 
to give birth. Still holding the knife in his right hand, the man bent 
over and to his surprise, kissed her protruding clitoris. The girl 
jumped in surprise, then moaned again at the strange motion of her 
exposed organs. 

With his left hand, the doctor entered her birth canal, loosened further 
by her surging hormones, first with two fingers, then with two more, and 
finally with his entire hand. Her bag of waters bulged into her vagina, 
and as he pushed it out of the way. he felt it burst around his hand. 
The amniotic fluid seeped around his arm and dripped on the sheet. It 
was clear and sweet smelling, both signs of an impending healthy 
delivery. 

Now, the doctor began moving his arm with gentle thrusts. He pushed into 
her, spreading his fingers around the baby's soft head, feeling the thin 
baby hair. The mother was over 7 centimeters dilated now, with her 
cervix almost fully effaced, and it would only take two or three more 
strong contractions before the baby would crown, and then be delivered. 
But his instructions were clear. The baby would not be born. 

As the expectant mother's final contraction approached, the doctor 
thrust into her with more and more force. Her clitoris rose red and 
hard, with no need for direct stimulation. Her exposed uterus shook each 
time the doctor's hand pushed the baby's head. The amniotic fluid coated 
her cunt lips, and soon the doctor was able to pull his hand completely 
out of her vagina and then push his fist right back in, as easily as if 
he were making love with a freshly deflowered virgin. 

Her moans of pain changed, as the extreme stimulation overloaded her 
senses, and brought her closer and closer to her final climax. She 
didn't notice the tip of the knife dimpling the skin just below her 
anus. All she could sense was the rhythm of the doctor's thrusts, the 
raw, bleeding edges of her skin, and the soft motion of her uterus over 
her intestines. Her uterus, which was changing again, tightening. Her 
moans changed again, and the doctor looked up from his work. 

"Open your eyes!" he commanded, still pushing his fist into her cunt. 
"See yourself!" Her eyes flew open, and she was silent for a moment at 
the sight of her own body's functions, hidden from her until now. Her 
brown liver on one side, her pink stomach on the other, a coil of gray 
large intestine, and on top of it all, her deep red uterus, holding the 
child she had planned to love. She took a deep breath, as she watched 
the organ contract like a tomato squeezed by an invisible hand. Her body 
shook in orgasm. 

As the baby's head moved down into the birth canal, the doctor thrust 
the knife into the pad of fat between the mother's rectum and her spine. 
At first, she didn't react, so intense was the orgasm and contraction, 
and the feeling of new life moving closer to its birth. But when the 
doctor began sawing through her tissues, her breath came out in a ragged 
scream, more intense than anything she had ever experienced. 

The knife moved around her pelvic opening, scraping her pelvis as the 
doctor avoided cutting into the delicate flesh of her rectum. First 
right, then up along the crease of her mons. Now, when the doctor pushed 
with his left hand, her pussy sank into her abdomen. He pulled out his 
hand, and slid it through the gash in her belly, through the fat and 
muscle. Her body had already turned some of the water into urine, he 
noticed, as he pushed past her bladder to grasp her vagina from the 
outside. 

Blood poured onto the sheet and into the stone drain as the doctor 
continued his cut. Guided by the hand inside her body, he cut through 
her mons. The girl's struggles were becoming more sudued as shock 
delivered her from pain, replacing it with the memory of her last 
orgasm. In a few seconds, the cut was extended down the left side of her 
pussy, then across to complete the circle below her anus. 

She was breathing fast and shallow as the doctor walked around her limp 
leg and back to her side. Setting the knife on her chest, between her 
dangling breasts, he reached in with both hands and picked up the 
uterus. It was no longer tight with contraction, but loose, like a 
balloon with no air. He cradled the organ to his chest with his left 
hand, then picked up the knife. As the dying baby moved slowing inside 
the pink bag, he cut away the two large ligaments holding the bag to the 
mother's body. He cut the uterine veins, and the blood began pouring 
out. He cut the remaining arteries, nerves, and connective tissue. Then, 
he laid the package on the mother's chest. "Feel your baby move. She 
loves you, Senora. Now, you will both die." 

As tears filled the mother's face, the doctor pulled up the end of the 
uterus, and cut between her vagina and her anus, severing the last 
connection between the mother and the baby. 

Then, he turned the screw in the chain holding the mother's hand, 
freeing it, and laid her hand across the pink bag, now still. Gently 
moving the baby out of the way, he took the knife and began cutting its 
mother's diaphragm away from her rib cage, from his left to his right. 
He reached inside with his left hand and held her beating heart for a 
long moment. 

He looked into the girl's eyes, and saw that the fear for her soul was 
gone. She had been purified, and now she was filled with love. Love for 
her dead baby, her dead boyfriend, herself soon to die. She caught the 
doctor's eyes, and he could see that she loved him for what he had done 
for her, for her baby. 

The heart beat slowly, as her blood pressure fell. The doctor began to 
squeeze the organ with his left hand, hard and fast, and the girl's eyes 
flickered open. Beyond pain, he opned her mouth, and with no breath from 
her collapsed lungs, mouthed her last words. "Gracias," she said. 

The doctor reached into her chest with the knife in his right hand. 
"Vaya con Dios," he said to her. Then, he pulled on her heart, bringing 
one more convulsive movement from her ruined body. With a sawing motion, 
he cut through the veins, arteries, and muscle to free her heart from 
her chest. The last of her blood poured into her rib cage, and the light 
disappeared from her open eyes. 

The doctor was gone by the time Ricardo's father and his men arrived the 
next morning. There were no instruments, no knives, just a bloody 
lighter with a picture of a fighting cock engraved on its front. It lay 
in the empty abdomen of a young woman on a stone altar. Her belly was 
opened to the air, her internal organs had been cleaned out, and the 
abdominal cavity had been washed clean of blood. She looked like a pig 
after the slaughter, ready to be cut into portions and sold in the 
market. 

Next to the lighter, in the eviscerated corpse, was the young woman's 
severed heart. Her remaining organs lay in a neat pile on the floor 
between her legs. On the other altar, a whitish pink bag lay in a pool 
of dried blood. Attached to it by a short tube of flesh was a bit of 
fur, easily recognizable as a woman's soft cunt. 

As several of his men turned and vomited, the man known simply as El del 
Norte smiled. Order had been restored. Nobody would dare to stray 
outside their place again. Or at least, if they did, they would know 
what to expect. 

Next chapter: El del Norte has a task that requires the Doctor's unique 
obstetric skills.

d udet