- Status
DBfan187
//content.invisioncic.com/y282845/emoticons/crazy.gif.c13912c32de98515d3142759a824dae7.gif tell them to cut the trunk off get the subs and shit.
I dont know man, might not work. youre silly. AE check. you might get bant.
DBfan187
5,000+ posts
Supa's mom was here!
Ae?
snoopdan
5,000+ posts
Banned
"snoopdan , you do not have permission to access this page. This could be due to one of several reasons: The page you are trying to access may require an active paid subscription . Click here for more details. Your user account may not have sufficient privileges to access this page. Are you trying to edit someone else's post, access administrative features or some other privileged system? If you are trying to post, the administrator may have disabled your account, or it may be awaiting activation."
fail.
WhoSayWho?
5,000+ posts
Preston Caught a Predator
It will not allow me to view b/c I have not been inducted into membership status.
I don't think I can afford to be a member of another forum.//content.invisioncic.com/y282845/emoticons/crap.gif.7f4dd41e3e9b23fbd170a1ee6f65cecc.gif
alternate ego
snoopdan
5,000+ posts
Banned
this man is wise //content.invisioncic.com/y282845/emoticons/fyi.gif.9f1f679348da7204ce960cfc74bca8e0.gif
DBfan187
5,000+ posts
Supa's mom was here!
I am myself. Besides, if I get banned I'll have Phat RAMROD their servers.
He's already got restraining orders for doing it to a few other sites.
He's already got restraining orders for doing it to a few other sites.
You should tell phat to try it over there now. see if he can do it.
WhoSayWho?
5,000+ posts
Preston Caught a Predator
Ahhaha, I just told Denim to stick it up his *** and called him a sorrry focker acting as though I thought he lost the election.
Maybe he wont ban me before he figures out I am joking:crap:
Maybe he wont ban me before he figures out I am joking:crap:
WhoSayWho?
5,000+ posts
Preston Caught a Predator
For realz?? aha, that's wild.
Preface:
This story is so unbelievable that I must lead off with proof that I’m not just inventing all of this as I sit here. The names of everyone except my ex-SO have been changed, but otherwise everything written here is as true as it is within my power to verify and relate so far.
After I post this I will provide pictures of Brandi and later on this week I will take pictures of her that place her current appearance in context with this story she told me.
As many persons on OT already know a good deal of the back-story concerning my exSO, I am only providing cliffs for the stuff that has already been posted and discussed in the past, at least for now. I have for some time been collecting this type stuff in writing for the inevitable autobiography, movie rights, mini-series etc…
Cliffs on who Brandi is: The story so far is that I married a woman who is severely disabled. I did this for my own reasons as well as the usual suspects (idiocy, insanity, love, insecurity, etc…). After 10 years of more-or-less hell, four children, insane drama both public and private, drugs, and enough other things to create a Lifetime miniseries in itself we separated. After this I then went through another year and a half of insane drama including lies, legal battles, and discovery that a woman without any legs can still run around without any effort at all. Suffice it to say that I learned a long time ago that while lying may get you what you want in the short-term being honest will always **** you in the *** at first and then come back to vindicate you and let you walk away a winner in anonymity.
After collecting my winnings (four beautiful children, the shattered remains of my life and the respect and admiration of a handful of people who really count and dozens who will never matter) I thought that nothing else could possibly happen in life that would surprise me.
This time I’m just observing from a front row seat.
Monday: My family and I decided a week or two ago that we would attempt to bring the mother of my children down here to see her children and spend thanksgiving with us. Logistically this went from apparently simple to me driving all night. During my long night of driving I was related this story in complete detail by the key antagonist in my lifelong drama. The details and evidence is sufficient for me to believe it, but the overall subject just … holy ****.
The events presented in much the same way as I learned about them last night:
I'm driving and wishing I was anywhere else in the world when my ex looks over at me and says “remember Jessica?”
Me: “How the **** could I forget her? You reminded me about her every ****ing day for a year and every week for the first three we were married.”
For the rest of you: Jessica was a very attractive (6 or 7 by OT standards) stripper that I railed for a few days during a rough patch in the early premarital relationship between Brandi and I. Brandi had never met her and knew almost nothing at all about her. She gave me the clap, I gave it to Brandi, her brother snitched on me, the Dr told me to stop ****ing *****s, Brandi proceeded to use it to continually put me into guilt-ridden subjection until I finally got fed up and told her that she could either accept that I ****ed up and drop the subject forever or GTFO ‘cause I wasn’t spending my life paying for the fact that I accepted free ***** from a hot girl. Moving on... (All of these events happened about 14 years ago).
Her: “I met her.”
Me:
Her: I went outside of Bleeding Heart Care Center and saw Joe sitting on a bench reading his Bible and I rolled over and got out of my chair beside him. I asked him what he was reading but before he could answer this fat purple-haired ***** comes flying out of the building and slams me into a wall by my throat.
Me: michaeljacksonpopcorn.jpg proceeding to etc…
Her: She let me go and I fell to the ground and Joe punched her in the breast. As Joe is helping me back into my wheelchair one of the workers in building three, the rehab facility, comes running over from the office where she had seen some or all of these events. I told her that she had misinterpreted them and that we knew each other and that she had merely been hugging me. The bruise wasn’t visible yet.
After the worker went back into the office Jessica told me that she didn’t like me anywhere near any man she was interested in because I had already stolen the one she had wanted from her.
Moving along…
This story is so unbelievable that I must lead off with proof that I’m not just inventing all of this as I sit here. The names of everyone except my ex-SO have been changed, but otherwise everything written here is as true as it is within my power to verify and relate so far.
After I post this I will provide pictures of Brandi and later on this week I will take pictures of her that place her current appearance in context with this story she told me.
As many persons on OT already know a good deal of the back-story concerning my exSO, I am only providing cliffs for the stuff that has already been posted and discussed in the past, at least for now. I have for some time been collecting this type stuff in writing for the inevitable autobiography, movie rights, mini-series etc…
Cliffs on who Brandi is: The story so far is that I married a woman who is severely disabled. I did this for my own reasons as well as the usual suspects (idiocy, insanity, love, insecurity, etc…). After 10 years of more-or-less hell, four children, insane drama both public and private, drugs, and enough other things to create a Lifetime miniseries in itself we separated. After this I then went through another year and a half of insane drama including lies, legal battles, and discovery that a woman without any legs can still run around without any effort at all. Suffice it to say that I learned a long time ago that while lying may get you what you want in the short-term being honest will always **** you in the *** at first and then come back to vindicate you and let you walk away a winner in anonymity.
After collecting my winnings (four beautiful children, the shattered remains of my life and the respect and admiration of a handful of people who really count and dozens who will never matter) I thought that nothing else could possibly happen in life that would surprise me.
This time I’m just observing from a front row seat.
Monday: My family and I decided a week or two ago that we would attempt to bring the mother of my children down here to see her children and spend thanksgiving with us. Logistically this went from apparently simple to me driving all night. During my long night of driving I was related this story in complete detail by the key antagonist in my lifelong drama. The details and evidence is sufficient for me to believe it, but the overall subject just … holy ****.
The events presented in much the same way as I learned about them last night:
I'm driving and wishing I was anywhere else in the world when my ex looks over at me and says “remember Jessica?”
Me: “How the **** could I forget her? You reminded me about her every ****ing day for a year and every week for the first three we were married.”
For the rest of you: Jessica was a very attractive (6 or 7 by OT standards) stripper that I railed for a few days during a rough patch in the early premarital relationship between Brandi and I. Brandi had never met her and knew almost nothing at all about her. She gave me the clap, I gave it to Brandi, her brother snitched on me, the Dr told me to stop ****ing *****s, Brandi proceeded to use it to continually put me into guilt-ridden subjection until I finally got fed up and told her that she could either accept that I ****ed up and drop the subject forever or GTFO ‘cause I wasn’t spending my life paying for the fact that I accepted free ***** from a hot girl. Moving on... (All of these events happened about 14 years ago).
Her: “I met her.”
Me:
Her: I went outside of Bleeding Heart Care Center and saw Joe sitting on a bench reading his Bible and I rolled over and got out of my chair beside him. I asked him what he was reading but before he could answer this fat purple-haired ***** comes flying out of the building and slams me into a wall by my throat.
Me: michaeljacksonpopcorn.jpg proceeding to etc…
Her: She let me go and I fell to the ground and Joe punched her in the breast. As Joe is helping me back into my wheelchair one of the workers in building three, the rehab facility, comes running over from the office where she had seen some or all of these events. I told her that she had misinterpreted them and that we knew each other and that she had merely been hugging me. The bruise wasn’t visible yet.
After the worker went back into the office Jessica told me that she didn’t like me anywhere near any man she was interested in because I had already stolen the one she had wanted from her.
Moving along…
The story in 1st person told as closely as possible to the style and wording that Brandi told it to me except for considerably more concise and without all of the details I demanded in order not to reject it out-of-hand:
So Jessica comes into my room and is obviously in some serious pain. She grabs some towels, a blanket, my nightgown, the emergency first aid kit you bought for me and stuffs them all into a pillow case. I’m was a little scarred because I’m alone in the room and she had already attacked me once and she was clearly not entirely stable. She looked at me and I noticed she was crying and told me that she desperately needed my help and to follow her.
She leads me outside and into the woods behind the facility and to a crawlspace under what used to be a plumbing building for the facility but was now essentially just a very small bunker. She proceeded to throw the pillowcase into the crawl space and then turned to me and reached for me as if to pick me up from my chair. I backed away and told her that if she laid one finger on me without some kind of explanation I was going to start screaming **** and bloody murder and run her *** over with my wheelchair.
“I’m in premature labor and I have already lost two children to social services. I don’t want to lose this one to the State as well. I was ordered to be here for rehab and I have two weeks left. Nobody knows I’m pregnant or I would already be in a hospital and they would take my baby the moment I give birth. I only have to wait two weeks without anyone finding out and then my boyfriend and his mother will come to get me and I will live with them. Please please please help me to have and keep my baby.”
Now at this point I must interject a little extra pertinent information. Brandi was a ward of the State of South Carolina (called DSS for Department of Social Services around here) from the age of 11 to 17. South Carolina DSS is in no way shape or form any better than all but the most horrific home you could possibly imagine. Children do not always survive in State custody here, and they are almost never productive contributing members of society if they remain in State custody for their entire childhood. Brandi has given birth by c-section four times, studied psychology and always read various books and texts on midwifery. These factors greatly influenced Brandi’s decision at this point to assist. Continuing…
Despite my protests and fears I couldn’t say no because I couldn’t bear the thought of another child being taken from it’s mother and put into State custody. I allowed her to lift me down and then told her to move my chair out of sight or someone would see it when they came looking for us. After she hid my wheelchair severl meters off in the foliage I followed her into the crawlspace.
Jessica lay down and I lifted the edge of her nightgown. She was bleeding but not heavily and there was noticeable amniotic fluid. I obviously couldn’t check her cervix myself and she was in too much pain and uncooperative in checking it herself. She said that she thought she was dilated about a third of the way (five or six centimeters) and that she knew things were going pretty much as they had in her previous deliveries.
I coached her through the next 10 to 12 hours of labor and didn’t really do much else until the baby’s head crowned. Once the shoulders were out the baby got stuck. Jessica immediately knew something was wrong and she told me that I was going to have to pull the baby out. I started freak out a bit at this point because I didn’t know how I was going to get a grip on a slippery baby covered in blood and amniotic fluid but Jessica was clearly exhausted and in obvious ways unable to return me to my wheelchair and there was no way for me to back out now and go for help as I couldn’t get back to or into my chair on my own. Jessica asked if the baby’s head was facing up or down and I told her it was facing up. She told me that the placenta had pulled loose and that I needed to clear the baby’s mouth and nose so that it could start breathing on it’s own. I checked the first aid kit and saw nothing that I could use for this. In desperation, I put my mouth over the baby’s and sucked out a mouthful of blood clots, fluid and mucous and spit it on the towels and vomited some from the awful taste and feel as well as the idea of what I had just done. The baby immediately started to cry and it sounded healthy.
At this point I felt much more confidant that things were going favorably for both Jessica and the baby. I reached over with my left arm and pushed it inside of her ****** until I could feel that it was under the baby’s left armpit. My shoulder was too large though and Jessica tore at this point in several places and started screaming. I was worried that someone would hear us but I cared more about getting the baby the rest of the way out at this point because I was worried that Jessica might start to hemorrhage. I put my chin under the already free right arm and held the right arm against my breastbone with my jaw and pulled while instructing Jessica to push for all she was worth. We did this several times with me timing my pull with the contractions and her pushing.
So Jessica comes into my room and is obviously in some serious pain. She grabs some towels, a blanket, my nightgown, the emergency first aid kit you bought for me and stuffs them all into a pillow case. I’m was a little scarred because I’m alone in the room and she had already attacked me once and she was clearly not entirely stable. She looked at me and I noticed she was crying and told me that she desperately needed my help and to follow her.
She leads me outside and into the woods behind the facility and to a crawlspace under what used to be a plumbing building for the facility but was now essentially just a very small bunker. She proceeded to throw the pillowcase into the crawl space and then turned to me and reached for me as if to pick me up from my chair. I backed away and told her that if she laid one finger on me without some kind of explanation I was going to start screaming **** and bloody murder and run her *** over with my wheelchair.
“I’m in premature labor and I have already lost two children to social services. I don’t want to lose this one to the State as well. I was ordered to be here for rehab and I have two weeks left. Nobody knows I’m pregnant or I would already be in a hospital and they would take my baby the moment I give birth. I only have to wait two weeks without anyone finding out and then my boyfriend and his mother will come to get me and I will live with them. Please please please help me to have and keep my baby.”
Now at this point I must interject a little extra pertinent information. Brandi was a ward of the State of South Carolina (called DSS for Department of Social Services around here) from the age of 11 to 17. South Carolina DSS is in no way shape or form any better than all but the most horrific home you could possibly imagine. Children do not always survive in State custody here, and they are almost never productive contributing members of society if they remain in State custody for their entire childhood. Brandi has given birth by c-section four times, studied psychology and always read various books and texts on midwifery. These factors greatly influenced Brandi’s decision at this point to assist. Continuing…
Despite my protests and fears I couldn’t say no because I couldn’t bear the thought of another child being taken from it’s mother and put into State custody. I allowed her to lift me down and then told her to move my chair out of sight or someone would see it when they came looking for us. After she hid my wheelchair severl meters off in the foliage I followed her into the crawlspace.
Jessica lay down and I lifted the edge of her nightgown. She was bleeding but not heavily and there was noticeable amniotic fluid. I obviously couldn’t check her cervix myself and she was in too much pain and uncooperative in checking it herself. She said that she thought she was dilated about a third of the way (five or six centimeters) and that she knew things were going pretty much as they had in her previous deliveries.
I coached her through the next 10 to 12 hours of labor and didn’t really do much else until the baby’s head crowned. Once the shoulders were out the baby got stuck. Jessica immediately knew something was wrong and she told me that I was going to have to pull the baby out. I started freak out a bit at this point because I didn’t know how I was going to get a grip on a slippery baby covered in blood and amniotic fluid but Jessica was clearly exhausted and in obvious ways unable to return me to my wheelchair and there was no way for me to back out now and go for help as I couldn’t get back to or into my chair on my own. Jessica asked if the baby’s head was facing up or down and I told her it was facing up. She told me that the placenta had pulled loose and that I needed to clear the baby’s mouth and nose so that it could start breathing on it’s own. I checked the first aid kit and saw nothing that I could use for this. In desperation, I put my mouth over the baby’s and sucked out a mouthful of blood clots, fluid and mucous and spit it on the towels and vomited some from the awful taste and feel as well as the idea of what I had just done. The baby immediately started to cry and it sounded healthy.
At this point I felt much more confidant that things were going favorably for both Jessica and the baby. I reached over with my left arm and pushed it inside of her ****** until I could feel that it was under the baby’s left armpit. My shoulder was too large though and Jessica tore at this point in several places and started screaming. I was worried that someone would hear us but I cared more about getting the baby the rest of the way out at this point because I was worried that Jessica might start to hemorrhage. I put my chin under the already free right arm and held the right arm against my breastbone with my jaw and pulled while instructing Jessica to push for all she was worth. We did this several times with me timing my pull with the contractions and her pushing.
Finally, I told her emphatically that she was going to have to push a lot harder. Jessica reached up and grabbed two different pipes that came through the cement above us, arched her back and screamed as I pulled. The baby popped out so suddenly that I tumbled over backwards with the baby landing on my chest. Jessica cried, the baby cried and I cried with relief, joy and exhaustion. I told Jessica that she needed to take the baby so that I could get up and she refused. We argued about this for several long minutes with her teetering on the brink of passing out. Some combination of postpartum, detox. and insanity kept her from wanting to have any contact at all with the baby’s skin but I managed to finally get her to cover the baby with a sheet while looking away. I took the corners of the sheet in my mouth and slid the baby off my breast while cradling the head with my arm to keep it from hitting the floor. Once the baby was on the blankets and towels I swaddled it much like I had always seen you do with our newborns and checked on Jessica.
She was laying back and appeared to be about to pass out. I yelled at her to stay awake because I was afraid that if she passed out she would die and I would be ****ed in so many ways. Both of us had forgotten that this wasn’t over yet because she had not yet birthed the placenta. She screamed as her body was wracked by another powerful contraction. I could see immediately that she was too exhausted and so I gripped the umbilical chord with my toes and pulled out the placental sack. It looked like a “large blood-smeared wet cocoon with a hole in one end” with the umbilical chord coming out of it.
At this point I knew we needed to cut the chord and I told Jessica that I didn’t think I could manipulate the scissors. She still refused to touch the baby and I asked her how close I should try cut it. She told me that she didn’t know and was still refusing to even look at the baby or assist in this process at all. I tried several times to manipulate the scissors but couldn’t do it without hurting the baby by placing them against its chest and using my arm and foot to balance and push down.
I told Jessica that I had done everything she had asked and that we had accomplished the near impossible and that I was going to just ****ing walk out of there on my *** if she didn’t take the ****ing scissors and cut when I told her to cut. She finally took the scissors and held them out ready to cut but with her head turned away. I guided her hand to where I wanted it above the baby and placed the chord between the blades and told her when to cut. She cut through it in a single snip and it bled just a tiny bit and then stopped. In all of this nothing had “really smelled awful” until then.
I spent the next hour cleaning and wrapping up the baby who was asleep by this time and taping gauze to the torn places around her labia and cleaning her and myself off. There was no way I could help her remove her clothes so I wrapped her and the baby in blankets and towels and then “took off my filthy clothes and put on my nightgown that she had stuffed into the pillow case. I gave her some of my percocet and after giving it some time to take effect and for her to regain some strength I told her that she was going to have to help me get back into my chair so that I could go and get drinks and other necessities for her to remain with the baby for the night. She did and after swiping some stuff from the kitchen and returning it to her I went to bed.
The next morning I went to building 3 and she was there. I tore into her about leaving the baby alone where any stray dog could run off with it and she seemed a bit scarred by that idea, as she apparently hadn’t considered it.
For the next two days we took turns staying with the baby. I knew that the baby needed to eat sooner or later but Jessica would not even budge on the issue of attempting to breast feed the baby. After two days the baby started crying in obvious hunger but I didn’t have access to formula or a bottle so I got a medicine cup and dropper off the medicine cart in building one. The nurse wasn’t paying close attention so I just leaned over and picked it up in my mouth and kept going. I mixed sugar in water in the medicine cup and used the dropper to squirt it into the baby’s cheek. The baby drank this entire cup of water and it seemed to satisfy it enough for it to sleep for the rest of the night. “I knew this wasn’t going to be anywhere near enough to make it through the next couple of weeks of course.”
Sure enough the next morning the baby started crying and couldn’t be consoled. I tried the sugar water and dropper again but the baby was having none of it. It wanted a bottle or a tit and it was being rather emphatic about it. I didn’t know what I was going to do at this point but in looking down I realized that the problem was solving itself. My breasts had let down and the front of my shirt was soaked through on both sides.
I slipped my arms out of my bra and laid down beside the baby just like I did with our babies when I breast fed them. At first I tried my left **** but as was true with our last two babies the infant tried several times to latch on and drink without success. I then gave it my right **** and everything went well. The baby “drained it dry” and was “falling asleep by the time it started to really hurt”.
At this point my right breast was deflated and obviously 1/3 the size of my left breast. I told Jessica that she was going to have to hold a cup under my right breast and milk it down so it wasn’t quite so obvious that I had been breast feeding an infant. She complained about it calling it “gross” and “gay” but I went off telling her that up until this point a woman with no arms and legs and every reason in the world to hate her had managed to help her have a baby, take care of the baby, hide the baby, wet-nurse the baby and that she was going to ****ing help. She relented and I filled an 8oz cup to the top before I was feeling too tender to allow any more.
We brought the cup back into the kitchen and covered it with foil and put it in the refrigerator with my name on it. When she was with the baby she used the dropper and the cup that I kept refilling to feed him and I normally just fed him on my right breast directly.
Almost exactly two weeks after this entire adventure started Jessica came running out of building three with her release papers in hand. A short time later a car pulled up with her black boyfriend (the baby’s father) and his mother in it.
Jessica asked me to help her to explain the situation to them and I agreed. I got into the car to the surprise of the occupants and Jessica immediately started crying too hard to explain anything. The grandmother turned around and said “why in the **** is this half-a-white-***** in my car and why are you blubbering!?” Her son basically looked scarred shitless as he no doubt had some idea of what was going on and had clearly not told his mother any of what to expect.
I said well if you guys aren’t going to explain anything then I guess I’m going to have to. Ma’am Jessica gave birth two weeks ago to a beautiful baby boy. I’ll take you to him but first I’d like a moment to say goodbye to him.
She replied with “y’all better not have given him no white name… Well!? Where’s my grandson?”
I lead the father to the crawlspace and he lifted me down and we went inside. I lay down beside the baby and to my surprise when I kissed him and he looked up into my eyes and made direct eye contact with me for the first time I told Jacob that I loved him. The father looked thoughtful and tried out the name. He pronounced it official and the baby is named Jacob.
I’ve heard from Jessica now a couple of times since she left that day. They took the baby to the hospital immediately and told some story about a home delivery that was obviously not believed by the pediatrician but it must evidently not be too very uncommon for people to lie about the circumstances of home births so he just said “whatever” and is now the baby’s pediatrician. Jessica had an infection from my poor job of bandaging her up but was otherwise fine.
**************CLIFFS CLIFFS CLIFFS *************
Cliffs on the above story: Ex-SO and soon-to-be ex wife of OP who is a woman without arms or legs serves as accomplice, midwife, wetnurse and friend to an Ex-****buddy of OP who is an ex-stripper rehab internee at a absolute-minimum security privately owned and operated assisted living facility in the redneck upstate of SC. – basically unbelievable real-life drama.
In the admittedly minimal amount of time I have had to verify the above story I have managed to compile enough evidence to be reasonably sure (enough to recount it for OT at least) that the majority of these events did indeed happen. It is of course possible I am being lied to and real-life bel-Aired but the story is good enough on it’s own that I wanted to make sure I wrote it down before I forgot what details I have so far. Since I personally know everyone in the story and have no reason to doubt the story and there is nothing to be gained in the person who told the story to me in telling it and quite a lot to be lost if it is a lie or just insane daydreaming I believe that the story is true. If this all turns out to be a lie or hoax I will certainly discover it and post updates.
She was laying back and appeared to be about to pass out. I yelled at her to stay awake because I was afraid that if she passed out she would die and I would be ****ed in so many ways. Both of us had forgotten that this wasn’t over yet because she had not yet birthed the placenta. She screamed as her body was wracked by another powerful contraction. I could see immediately that she was too exhausted and so I gripped the umbilical chord with my toes and pulled out the placental sack. It looked like a “large blood-smeared wet cocoon with a hole in one end” with the umbilical chord coming out of it.
At this point I knew we needed to cut the chord and I told Jessica that I didn’t think I could manipulate the scissors. She still refused to touch the baby and I asked her how close I should try cut it. She told me that she didn’t know and was still refusing to even look at the baby or assist in this process at all. I tried several times to manipulate the scissors but couldn’t do it without hurting the baby by placing them against its chest and using my arm and foot to balance and push down.
I told Jessica that I had done everything she had asked and that we had accomplished the near impossible and that I was going to just ****ing walk out of there on my *** if she didn’t take the ****ing scissors and cut when I told her to cut. She finally took the scissors and held them out ready to cut but with her head turned away. I guided her hand to where I wanted it above the baby and placed the chord between the blades and told her when to cut. She cut through it in a single snip and it bled just a tiny bit and then stopped. In all of this nothing had “really smelled awful” until then.
I spent the next hour cleaning and wrapping up the baby who was asleep by this time and taping gauze to the torn places around her labia and cleaning her and myself off. There was no way I could help her remove her clothes so I wrapped her and the baby in blankets and towels and then “took off my filthy clothes and put on my nightgown that she had stuffed into the pillow case. I gave her some of my percocet and after giving it some time to take effect and for her to regain some strength I told her that she was going to have to help me get back into my chair so that I could go and get drinks and other necessities for her to remain with the baby for the night. She did and after swiping some stuff from the kitchen and returning it to her I went to bed.
The next morning I went to building 3 and she was there. I tore into her about leaving the baby alone where any stray dog could run off with it and she seemed a bit scarred by that idea, as she apparently hadn’t considered it.
For the next two days we took turns staying with the baby. I knew that the baby needed to eat sooner or later but Jessica would not even budge on the issue of attempting to breast feed the baby. After two days the baby started crying in obvious hunger but I didn’t have access to formula or a bottle so I got a medicine cup and dropper off the medicine cart in building one. The nurse wasn’t paying close attention so I just leaned over and picked it up in my mouth and kept going. I mixed sugar in water in the medicine cup and used the dropper to squirt it into the baby’s cheek. The baby drank this entire cup of water and it seemed to satisfy it enough for it to sleep for the rest of the night. “I knew this wasn’t going to be anywhere near enough to make it through the next couple of weeks of course.”
Sure enough the next morning the baby started crying and couldn’t be consoled. I tried the sugar water and dropper again but the baby was having none of it. It wanted a bottle or a tit and it was being rather emphatic about it. I didn’t know what I was going to do at this point but in looking down I realized that the problem was solving itself. My breasts had let down and the front of my shirt was soaked through on both sides.
I slipped my arms out of my bra and laid down beside the baby just like I did with our babies when I breast fed them. At first I tried my left **** but as was true with our last two babies the infant tried several times to latch on and drink without success. I then gave it my right **** and everything went well. The baby “drained it dry” and was “falling asleep by the time it started to really hurt”.
At this point my right breast was deflated and obviously 1/3 the size of my left breast. I told Jessica that she was going to have to hold a cup under my right breast and milk it down so it wasn’t quite so obvious that I had been breast feeding an infant. She complained about it calling it “gross” and “gay” but I went off telling her that up until this point a woman with no arms and legs and every reason in the world to hate her had managed to help her have a baby, take care of the baby, hide the baby, wet-nurse the baby and that she was going to ****ing help. She relented and I filled an 8oz cup to the top before I was feeling too tender to allow any more.
We brought the cup back into the kitchen and covered it with foil and put it in the refrigerator with my name on it. When she was with the baby she used the dropper and the cup that I kept refilling to feed him and I normally just fed him on my right breast directly.
Almost exactly two weeks after this entire adventure started Jessica came running out of building three with her release papers in hand. A short time later a car pulled up with her black boyfriend (the baby’s father) and his mother in it.
Jessica asked me to help her to explain the situation to them and I agreed. I got into the car to the surprise of the occupants and Jessica immediately started crying too hard to explain anything. The grandmother turned around and said “why in the **** is this half-a-white-***** in my car and why are you blubbering!?” Her son basically looked scarred shitless as he no doubt had some idea of what was going on and had clearly not told his mother any of what to expect.
I said well if you guys aren’t going to explain anything then I guess I’m going to have to. Ma’am Jessica gave birth two weeks ago to a beautiful baby boy. I’ll take you to him but first I’d like a moment to say goodbye to him.
She replied with “y’all better not have given him no white name… Well!? Where’s my grandson?”
I lead the father to the crawlspace and he lifted me down and we went inside. I lay down beside the baby and to my surprise when I kissed him and he looked up into my eyes and made direct eye contact with me for the first time I told Jacob that I loved him. The father looked thoughtful and tried out the name. He pronounced it official and the baby is named Jacob.
I’ve heard from Jessica now a couple of times since she left that day. They took the baby to the hospital immediately and told some story about a home delivery that was obviously not believed by the pediatrician but it must evidently not be too very uncommon for people to lie about the circumstances of home births so he just said “whatever” and is now the baby’s pediatrician. Jessica had an infection from my poor job of bandaging her up but was otherwise fine.
**************CLIFFS CLIFFS CLIFFS *************
Cliffs on the above story: Ex-SO and soon-to-be ex wife of OP who is a woman without arms or legs serves as accomplice, midwife, wetnurse and friend to an Ex-****buddy of OP who is an ex-stripper rehab internee at a absolute-minimum security privately owned and operated assisted living facility in the redneck upstate of SC. – basically unbelievable real-life drama.
In the admittedly minimal amount of time I have had to verify the above story I have managed to compile enough evidence to be reasonably sure (enough to recount it for OT at least) that the majority of these events did indeed happen. It is of course possible I am being lied to and real-life bel-Aired but the story is good enough on it’s own that I wanted to make sure I wrote it down before I forgot what details I have so far. Since I personally know everyone in the story and have no reason to doubt the story and there is nothing to be gained in the person who told the story to me in telling it and quite a lot to be lost if it is a lie or just insane daydreaming I believe that the story is true. If this all turns out to be a lie or hoax I will certainly discover it and post updates.
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