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Immaculate Conception

4172 words | 0 |2.17
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I woke up so horny, but I had to get to church… #Prego Trigger Warnings: Slow, Tease, Thoughts, and Feelings.

I guess it was a few days before that time of the month, but I hadn’t had this side-effect before. Mostly just cramps, and grumpy mood swings, but maybe I had a wet dream, and just couldn’t remember it?

I more than made up for it, putting on my Sunday best with pantie hose to keep my legs warm, but we’re Catholic, so it’s “Modest.” To say the least, the dress hangs down even lower than my school dress code dresses, and skirts. Which also keeps my knees warm when it’s windy, and chilly.

The dew had frozen to frost on the dried grass out front, waiting for dad to come out, and unlock the door. He left the engine running, to warm it up, but for once I didn’t have to stand by the tailpipe to keep my ankles warm.

I was downright hot, it almost felt like a fever, but instead of all over, it was concentrated between my legs, and my training bra felt tight underneath my baggy sweater. Baggy so it wasn’t tight enough to show my chest swell, it felt like with every breath, so I tried to breath deeply, down in my tummy, but that just massaged my womb with my diaphragm.

I didn’t start to imagine sinful images until we got in the car, and I had to cross my legs to keep the sex stink in, but it was even hotter. I wanted to open up the window for some fresh air, and the mask was holding my breath in, so I had to take it off. If they had anything like Covid, the flu, or even the common cold, I would have gotten it already anyway.

We live together, but mom, and dad held hands on the armrest between the seats, and that’s something they would normally do, but it was weird how this morning, I just looked at it, and thought about. Something I never thought about before, even though it’s not like adultery. They’re married, and have kids, so obviously they didn’t just sleep together in the same bed.

They had sex, at least twice for her to get pregnant with my brother a couple years after the wedding, so they kept having sex after their honeymoon, and then again to have me. They’re just my mom, and dad, so it’s hard to imagine my father naked, let alone with his manhood turgid with lust to plunge into my mother, thrust through the barrier to make her a woman, pregnant, and eventually a mother.

“Huh!” Finally, we pulled up in front of the Cathedral, and I took in a few lungfuls of fresh air before pulling up my mask.

“You all right, this morning?” My brother touched my shoulder, and rubbed my arm, which just made things worse. Yeah, he’s my brother, but he’s also a teenager, nearly a man, so it was almost like having a man’s hands on me. I just pulled my coat tight, and the hood up. Turned away, shaking my head, and saying something like “Fine?” While mom, and dad pulled the car around to the parking and came back to walk us up the steps to the archway.

The double doors, I took my coat off right away, before they even closed, and it was especially hot in there. My training bra felt sweaty for the first time, and my nipples popped inside it from the sudden rush of air from the doors closing. Behind me, puffing up my skirt, and making goosebumps stand out in my tight pantie hose.

Then, in Sunday School we learned about the star in the West, the 3 wise men, and their journey to Bethlehem. Again, since Christmas was coming up, I learned it every year, so I just tuned it out. Not as if there’d be a pop quiz on it, or anything. Even if they did, I’d heard this story, at least 10 times already. So, I tried not to think about sex, but my body was not having it, and wanting it so badly, it felt like a need. A hunger inside me, only much lower than my stomach.

I didn’t think about anybody in particular, even though it was a co-ed class, so there were boys in there with us. It was a 5th grade class, so 9-11 year old boys, that hadn’t started puberty yet, so my body didn’t want them. Too young, to give me what it wanted, a baby of course. What was I going to do with a baby?

Other than hold it, cradle it in my arms, with it’s head turned to root out my nipple like a suckling pig, and fall asleep, suckling milk from. I crossed my arms, but it’s hard to imagine what it might feel like just to have full grown breasts. Let alone milk glands for her to draw out with her slow steady suckling. “Huh!”

Then, I realized that I imagined having a daughter, first. Nothing but her fine short blonde curls around the back of her head, then I heard the heater kick in but it was so much like a motor running. I could just imagine a breast pump, with a blue block motor, and a plastic funnel over my breast like Aunt Mary. When she got pregnant, and she was nursing, but she had to pump out milk for mom to feed my nephew while she got some sleep.

It was so mechanical, and unnatural, it helped me cool off a little while. I knew that hormones would make puberty rough, and even the sinful thoughts might be hard to resist, but finally I found something else to think about. Something unnatural, medical, even clinical? Then, Toby crying so mom had to get him up, feed him, and change his nasty diapers. Even his little privates shriveled up from the baby wipes before she dropped his butt in a diaper to close it up, and put him back in the travel crib.

“Whew!” That got me through Sunday school, and then there was the cold fresh air walking back to the sanctuary from the Sunday school building. I even hung back to pull my mask off, and drink in the cold fresh air, until it made me shiver, but it was a lot better than the fever of lust overwhelming me on holy ground.

I thought it couldn’t get any worse, until we came in the doors, and the organ music swelled like the Phantom of the Opera. I looked up, then crossed myself, but looked down too late. As soon as I saw Him up on the cross, his godly body stretched out, I wanted nothing more than to climb up there with Him, and hump the wood.

The hard wood, carved into a white loincloth, with suggestive folds that had to be hiding something. I’m sure He was flaccid the whole time in agony, just as sure as I am that He was circumcised at birth. He was a Jew after all, but God that body of his. I don’t know if you ever noticed, but he’s got abs. Biceps bulging, and nothing else on but a crown of thorns.

He looked so sad, and lonely up there without the 2 thieves from Golgotha. I didn’t want to pity Him. I wanted to climb up there, and make him feel better, with my young hot body up against his, and rubbing the loincloth until it slipped down, his turgid manhood slipping in, naturally to take my virginity, and make me a woman.

It’s so blasphemous, but they only played 1 song, Hosanna to let us in from Sunday school for Communion. I’d been going up with my family to kneel around the stage since I was 7, and it never bothered me before. Even when I was 10, and the grape juice was replaced with real wine. It’s just a sip, and I even had a full glass of wine with Thanksgiving this year. Not enough to get drunk, though I definitely got dizzy, and had to go take a nap before I was ready for pie.

I was just trying to think of something, anything but sex sex sex, which seemed to be the only thing that could fit in my head that morning, it drove everything out, as if possessed. It wasn’t like me at all, so I had no defense against the temptation. I just stood in line, shivering in a cold sweat, and resisting the urge to pull out the bottom of my training bra where it rolled up from sitting at my desk so it was even tighter.

I couldn’t barely even breathe, so it was a relief to kneel down, and pull up my mask. Covering my eyes like a blindfold until the Deacon came up muttering about The “Body of Christ.” Don’t look up, I told myself, but even with my eyes closed, I couldn’t get the image out of my head. The loincloth tented out with an enormous boner.

I giggled, and opened my mouth. Shaking my head, then sticking out my tongue to catch the wafer of Host like a snowflake. It dissolved almost immediately, then the Pastor came up with The “Blood of Christ,” he touched my lips with “The cup of heaven.”

I gulped, and for some reason it burned like the fires of hell. When it was just wine, not literally the Blood of Christ, but neither is that fluid. That other bodily fluid they sometimes call blood, and other times call “Seed.”

Jesus Seed, sowed on barren ground, but I’m not barren. It turns out, but it was just my tongue rolled up for the wine to flow down when I tipped my head back, and swallowed. I pulled my mask down so I could see, find my way back to the pew with my Father for The Lord’s Prayer.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven, Hallowed be your name. Your kingdom cum, your will be done, on Earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and lead us not into temptation.”

I blinked, and looked up. A big mistake, because now I was blaming Jesus for being so hot, and making me feel hot in church, when it’s not His fault. He was probably skinny anyway, and dark skinned instead of pale. Tanned, and sweaty from wandering the wilderness, and starving Himself for visions of heaven.

From God, His father, but like literally His father. Not like we’re all sons, and daughters through Christ, so it’s not like Incest. I giggled, until the wine bubbled up, and made me sneeze.

“For thine is the Kingdom, and Glory for ever, and ever, Amen.”

“Amen.”

“Are you all right?” My mom leaned over when the final Hymn played, and held up my bangs to feel my sweaty brow. “It’s not the Covid is it?”

“No, mom. I’ve been careful, staying away from people that might have it, and wearing a mask in public, always. It was just a sneeze, the wine got in my nose, and made me sneeze, that’s all.”

“Well, you do feel a little warm, you can stay home from school tomorrow, just to be sure. I’ll make you some chicken and Spaetzl, would you like that?” She’s German, and she was raised Lutheran until she got married, so she makes Chicken and Spaetzl instead of Chicken Noodle soup, but they’re basically just little German dumplings.

She just scrapes them off into the boiling broth with a knife, and there’s an almost hypnotic rhythm watching it. It’s comforting, and it gave me something I could think about. Something wholesome until we got back to the curb, and dad drove the car around.

“Where’s Othias?” I looked around, but he held the door for mom to get in.

“I’ll go get him real quick,” I had some idea, and sure enough he was out behind the doors down to the Soup Kitchen. Where they had a butt-can for the homeless to smoke after dinner.

They were smoking. Othias, and his delinquent friend Fred. Not Freddy, or Friedrich, it’s just Fred now, but he’s German too. Not German Catholic, nor even Lutheran. He’s a heretic, and he fills my brother’s head full of all these doubts. Trying to make him turn away from the Path to Heaven, and join him in Atheism.

I swear to God, he only came to church any more to debate Christians, that kind of Atheist. I never liked him before, but he invited himself over after church, and he went around behind dad to get in the driver side. “You better sit in the middle,” Othias held the door for me, since I’m the youngest, and the shortest. My legs aren’t too long to sit over the hump, but that put me right between them.

Right next to Fred, “Have you been smoking?”

“Sorry, mrs. Allessandro.” My dad’s Italian, and she took his name when they were married, her maiden name was Großmann, but she only signs it with an Ezsett. She spells it Grossmann on the computer, since we don’t have the keyboard with the umlauts, ablauts, and eßett.

None of this was helping how close I was sitting to Freddy, my brother, and him, but I scooted over as far as I could, so Fed wasn’t touching me. I could still feel his body heat, and crossed my legs. Afraid that my underpants had soaked through, so the stench of my lust could be smelled over the cigarette smoke.

“I was just holding it for someone,” he lied, too. I saw him smoking myself, but I just shook my head. Tried to breathe deeply, bent over, crammed between 2 teenage boys, and think about something. Anything other than his sinful flesh. No doubt flaccid, and hanging in his underwear, but that only made me want to do something indecent, and inappropriate to help him get it up.

Like sit in his lap, and talk about the first thing that popped up. If I told you you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me? Such corny lines are guaranteed to be a turnoff, if not get you slapped, but that got me home. So, I could run for the bathroom, peel off my sweater, dress, training bra, pantie hose, and underwear. Take a cold shower before I did something I would regret.

That awkward age between being old enough for a sip of wine, but too young for Confession? Thank goodness, because I can’t imagine talking about having such indecent thoughts to the preist, especially right after I had them right in front of him, and the deacon. I sputtered, shaking my head, but once the thought was in there, it wouldn’t go away.

Of course, the robes are too lose, and baggy to see anything sticking out under them unless they were obscenely ginormous. The cold shower only worked for a little while, so I’m not hot, but I’m wet, and shivering, with goose bumps all over like a million tiny nipples, and stark naked.

So, I got out, dried off, and looked at my clothes all over the floor. “Dangit!” I didn’t even stop by my room to pick out something to change into I was in such a rush to make myself feel clean again. On the outside, so I took all the towels to wrap up in. One around my breasts, and tucked in between, another around my waist so it hung down low enough to cover my bare legs (And anything in between) the last one over my head like a wimple, or a hooded cloak to dry my hair with when I got back to my room, and almost tripped over my pajamas.

On the floor, right inside the door, I looked over at the clothes basked, confused at first. I distinctly remember picking them up right after making the bed, instead of kicking them under there this morning. I just did my laundry, so the only thing in the basket was my panties from last night. Wadded up, like I would never do, and greasy with lotion.

“Huh, snh?” That was lotion, wadded up on the inside, and Wad being the operative word. “Huh, SNH!” I never smelled it before, and I told myself, maybe he just had a runny nose, so he blew it in my dirty underwear when he came in here to sniff them. Get hard, and whip it out while I was in the shower naked. Abusing himself right here in front of my dresser, and holding his breath.

“Huh! HhHhHhuhuh huh!” So nobody could hear him moan out loud. “Jeeze, zus! Jesus Christ, I’m sorry. Forgive me, Damnit!” I dropped the panties, and felt the greasy wet warm mess I left when I found the hot button. “OMG!” I dropped my towels, and ran back to the bathroom, but the door was locked.

“Uh, just a minute?” Naked, I ran back to the hall, and grabbed the towels, freaking out, and too scared to think anything until finally, I heard Freddy come out. I peeked down the hall until he went back in the boy’s room, then snuck across to wash myself. Desperately, I turned on the hot water, and sprayed my pubes first, but it ran down my legs, so I grabbed the soap, and scrubbed them until the lather frothed up in stiff peaks like meringue.

Then, I got out, and used one of mom’s vinegar douches. Since that’s an acid, and I hear acid kills. Well, sperm. Hoping the lotion did something, even if it made it too greasy, and slippery for them to swim down to find the hole, and explore until they found an egg. Finally, I wound up crying on the toilet, until I wiped my eyes, and picked up my clothes off the floor. Just my dress, sweater, training bra, pantie hose, and Sunday shoes.

“Huh!” I couldn’t find my underwear, because this time he took them with him. Fred, of course, and I was way too intimidated to confront him, or even tell my dad what he did to get them back. As smelly as last night’s pair had to be, from waking up from wet dreams, my Sunday best were practically soaked through. They stunk up the hole bathroom as soon as I got them off, and damnit. Why does every thought in my head have to be some sick sexual innuendo this morning? What’s wrong with me?

Well, I had to wait a few more months to find out. First, I missed a couple periods, though I was too scared to tell mom, because then I’d have to admit what I did wrong until I started getting fat, and sick in the morning. Throwing up, so I had to shoplift a pregnancy test from the drug store, but once you start sinning, it’s like a slippery slope, and I was sliding right down it by then.

Finally, she took me to her OB/GYN so I could get some answers. Yes, of course I was pregnant, but honestly. I was so sheltered, and sexually repressed, what with Abstinence Only, and “I’ll tell you when you’re older,” my mom barely told me I was going to start growing into a young lady when I got my first period, and showed me how to use pantie liners.

The rest, I guess I picked up from girls at school. Mostly listening in the girl’s room, while they talked about boys, and sex, even though we’re all Virgins in elementary school, these weren’t like. Ignorant virgins? They knew a lot of dirty grossout jokes, like how you get a whore pregnant? (Beat off on her shoes, and let the flies do the rest.) They laughed, and I wanted to throw up, bucause I couldn’t imagine something so sick, so I just.

Didn’t? Until I got pregnant that is, and Dr. Cameron wouldn’t hear any excuses. “But I’m a virgin, isn’t that what my hymen is for, to keep sperm out until I’m married?”

She sighed, and even rolled her eyes. “You’re thirteen, and you’re obviously well on your way starting adolescence.” She shook her head. “So, you;ve had your period?”

“Yeah, but they stopped a couple months ago, so?”

“So, it’s not like a freshness seal, if your mense can get out, than sperm can get in.”

“You’re right.” I couldn’t argue with that logic, and speaking of which. I had to talk to Freirich some time. Since he was the father, impossibly though he literally never touched me, he just left a load in my underwear for me to put on. Oh yeah, and I lied. I tried to masturbate with them, without getting the sperm close enough to the hole, and get me pregnant. I was just so wet, right out of the shower, and you know they can swim, right? Well, apparently, they swum fast enough to beat the douche to the egg.

Also, I was so fertile. God, it must have been waiting right at the door to my uterus, because I got pregnant so easily, and that’s what made me so horny, I couldn’t control myself. It happened again, after the wedding, at least Freddy was man enough to take responsibility for it, and marry me, before I got too big to fit in the wedding dress.

Well, they had to make it special, with a built in girdle, and a corset over it to hide my baby belly. I know you don’t want to read about the whole conversation, and honestly he had to tell me over and over again for years before I finally started to listen, but you know what?

He was right all along. I’d been living a lie, a Catholic Christian lie my whole life, so I just couldn’t see it from inside the box. What finally convinced me was the Parable of the Sower, and the Seed. He sat down with me, and the bible to read it to me, then he let me read it again.

All of it, because they never read the whole thing to me in Sunday School before. They just told me the “Seed” was about masturbation, adultery, and pre-marital sex, but Freddy didn’t even have to explain it to me. Jesus explained it to the Apostles himself in the very next chapter.

It’s not His sperm, it’s the Word of God. The Sower is the Apostles, He was warning them not to bother trying to spread the Good News when it would only fall on deaf ears. Ironically, the pope took that, and didn’t understand it. (I don’t know what pope, but one of them between Paul, and Benedict XVI, since he was pope when I learned all this in the first place.)

So, just like Jesus said, Satan came, and snatched it from our hearts. The Word of God became “Sex is bad, Mmkay?” Judging people, murder, war, and even torturing women to make them confess to witchcraft is okay, but sex?

It turns out I wasn’t possessed, I was just fertile, hormonal, and horny. If anything, it was the Church that got so twisted around by Satan that they forgot what Jesus said in the first place: Judge not, lest ye be judged. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Love the lord your God with all your heart, and love your neighbor as yourself.

All the law, and the prophets rest on this…

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Author

Note: This is a literary technique, to help antisocial perverts who’re confused by characters with thoughts and feelings understand Sexual Repression.

Impulse Control, only instead of learning to control herself, she was sheltered, repressed, ignorant, and threatened with eternal damnation if she touched herself with anything dirtier than a washcloth, or a wad of toilet paper after she peed.

So, she basically buried her sexuality “Deep in Her Subconscious.” (Atrocity, Hallucinations. If you don’t mind death metal.) Sometimes, when you bury your feelings like that, they fester, and rot. Only to swell up, boil over, and drown you in misery.

Or, you finally do something impulsive, like masturbate with cum soaked panties. Or, smell the girl’s hair sitting right next to you, and literally shivering with pent up sexual tension. I suppose I could tell it from Freddy’s PoV. This one’s run kinda long, so I’d have to start over, if anyone might be interested.

Of course, it was also a literary challenge. Sunday’s my day off, so rather than just flood the boards with 3-5 impulsive strokers, I decided to see if I could figure out how a Virgin could be innocent, untouched by man, and still get pregnant.

Hence the title. (Also, #Prego is a joke. It’s Italian for “You’re welcome,” knowing none of you ingracious fucks probably even read it this far, but you’re also triggered by clever titles. So, I hid it in the description.)

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