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“Regular? But your pussy is otherworldly, not this,” he grunts, shaking the box like it has a prize inside.
“For crying out loud! Where are the other two?” I curse, looking around the store, but don’t find Jericho or Sheppard anywhere.
Bastards.
They left me here with Arrow to die in my humiliation. Although, I shouldn’t be mortified to buy tampons with these three mafia men. It’s a natural part of life. Something my body was meant to do to make babies and all that good stuff. But still, if Arrow doesn’t stop talking about my vagina, I’m going to throat punch him into next week.
“Arrow,” I grit out, swiping the box from him again and putting it on the shelf. “It’s for flow.”
I really wish the ground would swallow me whole and never spit me back out. Transport me back to a different reality, please.
“Flow?” Arrow asks, tilting his head. “Oh, flow! Like how much blood is going to leak out of your pussy. So, it’s like a stopper, right? The bigger, the better? Like my dick. You know, I could just plug you up for the next week. You could warm my cock and…”
I put my hand over his mouth, silencing him before he can continue spouting off about my period. How is this my damn life? My eyes dart around as a woman stands mortified behind us. She quickly grabs a box of panty liners and sends Arrow a deadly look with red cheeks.
Great. A witness to the period talk. How can it get any worse?
“Kitten, just let me warm my cock in you and help,” Arrow mumbles beneath my palm.
Oh, it got much worse. I’m sure I’m as red as a tomato. How has society made women feel so dirty about having a period like it isn’t normal? I should be able to scream from the rooftops that my hooha is bleeding. But yet, here I am. Heat filling my cheeks in the middle of a damn corner convenience store.
“No,” I bark. “Absolutely not. Please, just… grab this!” My voice trembles with frustration when I grab a variety pack.
“A variety pack?” he asks, raising his brows.
“It has every size I need,” I grumble, putting it under my arms.
“But we can still get you the supers, right? What about these winged thingies? Oh, they go in your panties,” he says, picking up a box. “They’re super absorbent, too.” His brows wiggle when he puts them under his arm with pride.
I sigh. This seems like a losing battle with him. But it warms my heart to see him care so much. I guess.
“Thanks, Arrow,” I grumble, pulling him out of the feminine products and onto other things like greeting cards and birthday gifts. These seem innocent enough.
“Any time, Kitten. Although, I don’t think you’ll need these pesky tampons for very much longer,” he quips, plucking them from under my arm.
“Yeah? And why is that? I’m pretty sure I’m going to be shedding my damn lining for another thirty years or so until I hit menopause at least,” I say as he intently stares down at the packaging of the tampons with curiosity.
“Oh, because we’re going to put a baby in your belly,” he says offhandedly, tilting the box again. “How do these things fit in, Kitten?” He shakes the box a little, listening as they rustle on the inside without a care. “Can I put it in your pussy? Oh, there’s instructions…” he carries on about the tampon box he’s studying, but I’m too focused on the words he said.
“What?” I sputter, nearly choking on my spit. “A baby?”
What the hell is this man on? There’s no way in hell that's happening any time soon. Sure, maybe eventually I'd like to become a mother. Better than mine, too. But today? Next month? I'll pass for now...
“You’d look so damn hot with a big old belly, filled with our baby. Well, one of ours, at least. Then, we can keep going. I want ten.” He grins at that.
“Ten?” I sputter with wide eyes.
Arrow fucking grins like a psychopath at me being pregnant with ten damn kids. Jesus. H. Christ. What did I get myself into? And why is he saying this? Also, why am I a frozen block of human standing before him with my lips flapping open? I can’t move or speak.
“And your tits,” he murmurs, putting his arm over my shoulders, pulling me close. “I’m going to fill you with so much cum, you’re going to taste it. And it’s not going in your mouth either. No matter if you’re bleeding or not, I’m filling you completely.” He grins, kissing my temple. “Tomorrow, I want to introduce you to my pet lions.”
I blink several times. “Arrow!” Finally, I’m able to utter a single word. “You're crazy. Absolutely fucking insane. And pet lions?” I ramble, going over the information in my head.
There’s so much to unpack here. Babies? Lions? David Rose’s voice from Schitt’s Creek, rings through my mind on repeat shouting: What the absolute fuck is going on here? Because, seriously? What the hell is going on?
As a kid, I always wanted children. But that was when my mom showed me love and kindness, making up for the shortcomings of my sperm donor. Then she changed from my superhero to the villain of my story in the blink of an eye. And my dad? Pfft. That lazy bastard never came around. All my mom could get him to do was a DNA test proving I was his and a letter from his attorney telling my mother never to contact him again.
What a waste of space. I’m glad Corbin West kicked the bucket a few years ago. Sayonara, Assbag. Thanks for proving to me what a parent shouldn’t be.
