Posted 20030721 to alt.sex.stories.moderated. 
Heatherlyn's Happy Ending
by Philip Harris

Sequel to /~pharris/heatherlyn.htm.

After the second month, Heatherlyn went to a doctor, and 
her fears were confirmed--she was pregnant.  She was now no 
longer a virgin, and would have to bare and love the child 
of a man who raped her.  The abortion of an innocent life 
was unthinkable to her Christian soul.

Heatherlyn told no one about her rape.  She would not let 
her unborn child suffer the distain of heartless blame.  
Let people call her a whore and call the dear child a 
bastard--but never let them say the child was unwanted.

And so Heatherlyn carried on with her job and carried on 
with her life.  Some friends left her, and some stayed 
true.  Because of the dear life within her, Heatherlyn 
never felt lonely. 

And then, at the start of the child's eight month, 
Heatherlyn answered the telephone at her workplace and with 
a shock of fright she recognized the voice that asked her, 
"Is the child mine?"

"Yes," Heatherlyn admitted.  It was the voice of the awful 
white man who'd raped her.

"Oh, I'm so very sorry," he said, sounding absolutely 
sincere. "I never intended to do that to you, honest."

"You said that you wanted to make me pregnant." Heatherlyn 
accused.  "You knew that I was an unprotected virgin.  You 
stayed inside me afterward, lying on top of me, telling me 
that you wanted me to have a baby."

"If you knew how I felt about you Heatherlyn," he said, 
"how long I lusted for you . . ."

That was the first time he'd revealed that he knew 
Heatherlyn's name.

"You've been watching me then?" she asked.

"Yes . . . I . . . oh God, I've wanted you more.  Since 
then . . . since that time, well you were, you were very 
good in how you let me do it."

"It was awful," Heatherlyn said, crying.  "How could you do 
that to me?  How could you do that to anyone?"

"I never did that to anyone before, honest," he said.  "And 
I felt so guilty about it afterward.  I only did it because 
you are so beautiful.  I'd seen you, noticed that you would 
be alone in the evenings, and I desired you so much."

"I can't forgive you for what you did," Heatherlyn said.

"What about for our baby?" he asked.  "Our baby deserves a 
father.  Can't you find it in your heart to forgive me for 
the sake of our child?"

"I don't know," Heatherlyn said.  "It's too much to ask."  
Heatherlyn was appalled.  What was he saying?  What did he 
want?  "Do you want to see the child, after it's born?" she 
asked.

"Oh Heatherlyn," he said, "I want to be near my child now.  
I want to feel it kick inside your belly.  I want to be 
with my child's mother, to help her out.  If only you can 
forgive me."

"You did such horrible things.  I can't risk the child," 
Heatherlyn said.  "Think of what you did to me with that 
big . . with that big . . . --oh God I couldn't let you do 
that again while I'm carrying a child."

"No, no, never! I promise," he said.  He had ravaged 
Heatherlyn's virginity from her with the Mammoth Phallus, 
an ancient Chinese punishment dildo from the museum where 
she worked.

They talked on the telephone for a long time.  Heatherlyn 
was very scared of him; very fearful and protective of her 
unborn child; but she stayed at the office alone after 
closing.  The doorbell rang late at night, and he was 
there, as he'd said he would be. 

Seeing him again brought back awful memories to Heatherlyn, 
of him forcing that big thing into her and of her trouble 
removing it once he'd left.  Seeing him made her very 
scared.  At first she wouldn't let him in, talking to him 
only from behind the safety of the security gate.  But he 
was the father of her child; how could she refuse him?

Alone together in her office, Heatherlyn unbuttoned the 
lower part of her blouse and let him put his hands on her 
belly.  She felt awful about letting him touch her again.  
She was very confused.  He'd used her by force, and now 
Heatherlyn felt as if she belonged to him.  And yet this 
felt right.  His eyes glowed with a father's love.

But when he looked up at Heatherlyn his eyes became lustful 
again.

"Oh no, please, please," she begged.  "Please don't do 
anything to hurt our child."

"I just want to know in what other ways I've changed you," 
he said.

At his insistence she unbuttoned her blouse fully and 
unhooked her bra, letting him feel her breasts.  They were 
bigger now, but not yet carrying milk.  He confessed to 
wanting milk from her.

"That's awful," Heatherlyn told him, but she didn't resist 
when he dry-sucked her.  She let him stay until very late, 
talking with her, and feeling her breasts and her belly, 
kissing her mouth.

"You're going to be a very good mommy, Heatherlyn," he told 
her over and over again.

Heatherlyn became his wife in a private ceremony a month 
later; their baby boy was born healthy, and legitimized by 
their wedlock.  

Breast pumping and three more pregnancies (all girls) kept 
Heathernlyn lactating.  "You clever girl, semen goes in 
here, and milk comes out there," her husband was fond of 
joking while he made love to her and feasted from her.  

Being a mommy and a lover made Heatherlyn content, but 
after eight years of big bellies and wet nursing she was 
very happy when he finally let her have her tubes tied.  
After that their sex life dwindled for a while.  And then 
one day the newspapers carried the story of a break-in and 
theft at the museum where Heatherlyn used to work.

"What's this, another anniversary gift?" Heatherlyn asked 
in their bedroom late at night.  They'd dinned with the 
children earlier, but now it was time for them to celebrate 
their anniversary alone.  With Heatherlyn in bed he'd 
produced a huge gift-wrapped box that looked large enough 
to contain a baseball bat.  Heatherlyn tore the gift-
wrapping off and opened the box.

"Oh!" she said.  "This belongs back in the museum!"

"Oh no it doesn't," he said, taking up the Mammoth Phallus 
and lifting the hem of Heatherlyn's nightgown, "From now 
on, each night this is going to be just where it should 
be--inside you!"

-end-

More stories by Philip Harris can be found on /~pharris/.