“So, are you gonna do it or not?” asked my mother, her voice tinged with scorn.
The rich lady looked at me a long moment. Her eyes wandered and seemed hesitant to really look at me, but she did glance at my eyes. There was disgust there and also pity. “He's too young.” She said.
“Old enough to knock you up, ya barren cootch!” My mother said, she was grinning.
The rich lady's eyebrows furrowed and her mouth pinched as she reassessed me. “He's gotta be eight, nine at the oldest!” She barked.
! My mother crowed. She was in that state just between glee and rage. She could sometimes hover there for days. “He's just small for his age.” I looked around at our grimy shelter, embarrassed. The bed I was supposed to lay with this woman in was a pile of laundry covered with a wool blanket. There were insects in it that bit. I wondered, what if the clydent got bit, what would she do.
The rich lady looked at me again, frowning. I put my chin out a little and squared my thin shoulders. As far as I could determine, I had lived one decade. This was based on things my mother had said about the time I was born and what people said on the news. I could probably pass for older to this rich lady though, I had been working since I was four or five. She probably didn’t see people work where she was from.
“I doubt that.” She said but I could see she had made up her mind. She was going to pay. My mother couldn’t see that yet though. She often misjudged where people were at, and assumed things. She wasn’t as good at reading people as I was. It was like she was too wrapped up with something inside her. “Can he do it?” She asked.
“Thirty-four times, ya cooze, he got ‘em, Thirty-four times, he put to ‘em an’ filled ‘em up! She was defensive. “They walking around out there. I got a few pictures. Couple a’int been born yet but a lot has. He made at least eighteen, twenty babies, heh.”
This seemed to both repulse and intrigue the rich lady. She looked down at my naked penis, which was soft and small. My face was flushing hot. I could barely stand the scrutiny. I clawed at a scab on my elbow and paid close attention to a stain on my red soccer jersey. The golden number zero was faded to brown and nearly gray. “I wonder…” The rich lady mused, “…how does it feel to be pimping out your little boy?” She didn’t seem confrontational saying this, though she was. It was said to get a rise out of my mother. Her face was neutral but I could see she was holding back something big.
“Great!” My mother said, sweeping my penis into her hand and beginning to stroke it roughly. “I have all the sperm I want while bitches like you gotta come to me and beg for it.” My mother was crouching down next to me now. She was old, but toned from hard work. Her legs were bare and tanned, shapely and well muscled. Her arms were scabbed at the elbows but also tanned and toned. If we had lived a softer life, we would have both been beautiful. “I get to have as many babies as I want, right here,” she squeezed my penis hard with her calloused hand and pulled, “Fuck, I drink sperm when I want it, right from the spigot while you gotta pay me for some!” She was grinning again, and despite my shame, I was hardening. I refused to look at her or the rich lady and instead focused on a hole in the wall where I could see burning tires outside. “How would you like that?” She asked, bringing her face close to my crotch, “how would you like if I just sucked him dry right now while you watched?” She popped my penis in her mouth and vigorously sucked for a moment. “I might just drink it all up and leave that cunnie of yours empty. Your chance at a baby, gone--down my throat!”
“Ug!” The rich lady screwed up her face, her chin and nose wrinkling up and her eyes popping. “That’s enough! What do you want? Will you stop that?” I was fully hard now. There was a space in my mother’s teeth that was empty and it felt very good when she used it under the head of my penis. She stopped and grinned at the rich lady. “Fifty-five thousand.”
“What! Really? I was told it would be twenty-five thousand.”
“Nawp. I dunno who told you that. Fifty-five.”
“You know where else you gonna get knocked up?”
“I’m sure I can find someone! Probably a decent age too!”
“Not here, I know ‘em all. You’ll get dicked but you won’t get sprung
, like with my boy.” She gently handled my testes. “You would hafta take your chances, go back over and over again, pay all that money, to get sprung up. My boy is young and full of spunk! He’ll git you a baby the first time.”
“I’ll talk to my husband.” The rich lady furrowed her brow and stepped outside, tapping on her earlobe. I could hear her talking to someone, pleading with someone while my mother grinned up at me and stroked my penis.
“You doing good, sweet boy. You doing really well. She’ll pay up and we gonna get a nicer place then, right baby? Just a little pop and we gonna have some nice things again, okay baby? You just give it to her nice and good and Momma gonna get us all kinds of nice things.”
“Forty thousand.” The rich lady said. Her arms were crossed but I could see she was weak and didn’t want to look for someone else. She would pay the whole thing.
“Okay! You got it!” My mother said, I was shocked.
“What?” I cried out “No, you said fifty-five! I won’t do it for that, I won’t, you said!” I didn’t like how my voice didn’t sound like a man’s. I sounded like the boy I was.
“Baby…” My mother said between her teeth, “…you gonna wreck this for us. Just do as I tell you and pop this lady.” She was staring into my eyes intensely. I wanted to talk directly to her mind, I wanted to shout and not be heard by this rich lady, ‘she’ll go higher, you dummy, just push her a little more,’ but my mother couldn’t hear me and I couldn’t say that in front of the clydent.
“Fifty-five. You said.” Was all I could say.
“Forty. That’s all I’ll do.” This time the rich lady said it with resolve. She knew she had won. “Get him hard again,” for I had deflated some during the argument.
My mother gave me a cold eyed stare as she clenched my penis hard, telling me not to screw things up. Then she softened and licked the tip of my penis, “Don’t worry baby, forty will be good, real good, you’ll see. You just get real good and hard and put it in this lady for me, okay? You make her feel good while you’re doing it too, okay? Show her a real good time.” She popped the head of my penis into her mouth and swished it with her tongue, pulling on it and drawing me back up.
“Jeez,” the woman said, “he doesn’t even have any pubic hair.”
My mother pressed her face all the way until her nose squashed into my belly and drew off slowly, letting go with a smack. She stood up and led me over to the bed and sat me down. She turned away and held her palm out toward the rich lady.
The woman fumbled in her bag and came out with bills. I saw her count out bills, flustered and actually put some bills back in her bag. ‘She had more’, I thought, sunken.
My mother stood in the doorway for the actual act. She used to watch and give instruction but she had finally learned that it made things more difficult and it bothered the clydents. She wasn’t real in touch with people but she learned eventually. I started by undressing the woman. She was put off by this and pushed my hands away. Normally I would give a massage and lick the clydent’s Vulva but this one was all business. She pulled off her under-things but kept a skirt on. She got on hands and knees and turned to face the wall. I could tell she was closing her eyes, trying not to really be there.
“Just get it done quickly,” she said, so I inserted myself and pumped her from behind, also thinking of other people and other places.
“You know, I said, after a while, it works better when people be nice to each other.” She winced. I think it was my voice, so young to her. “I just want to make you feel nice,” I said, embarrassed again.
“Fine, do whatever.”
I began rubbing her behind. It was very soft, and with perfect skin. I could feel that she used some kind of cream to make her skin so nice. My hands gently roamed her behind and her back. I knew a lot of things about making women feel good. I found a knot between her shoulder blades and I massaged it as I slipped in and out of her. Her Rhomboid muscles, she had a lot of fear about coming here and it was there in her back. I stroked her hair and pulled gently on her earlobes, though it was a reach for me, but I could feel her relaxing and her rump began clapping back against my pelvis. I pressed on her hips and pulled into her deeper and folded over to reach around and pluck at her nipples through her linen shirt. It was such a natural fabric. It screamed wealth. I couldn’t believe my mother only got forty thousand for this. The thought made me frustrated and angry but, I also felt bad for this woman in a way that my mother couldn't. This woman was desperate, full of hope and worry. Why wasn't her husband here if she had someone to call, why didn't he stay by her?
I stroked her back and pulled back on her hips, massaged her gluteus muscles, pressing my thumbs into the knotty spots. She began moaning but I couldn't tell if it was the massage or because my small penis felt good to her. I pressed the heel of my hand into her gluteus and she arched her back.
“What turns you on?” I asked. “I want you to cum.” I continued the massage, “It'll work better if you're relaxed and if you cum when I do.”
“This is fine.”
“I mean it, your womb is a muscle and it opens and contracts when you reach orgasm.”
“You’re, you...are...a very...strange kid.”
“I know my job.” She paused and I knew I had made a mistake. I had to distract her quickly. “Turn over, talk to me about what you like.” She turned and looked at me. There was amused exasperation in her expression but she stopped and turned over.
She was assessing me now. I could see her looking at me in a new way. She cocked her head and really focused on me, trying to figure me out. “You really are strange. What are you doing here?” She asked this as I slipped my penis back into her and but she spoke to me as if we were talking over a table.
“Born here.” I said. I shrugged I didn't want to look at her now; I could feel my face burning again. I scrambled to get back on track. “Do, do you like, um, to-uh, should I r-rub your...”
“Sure.” she said, laying her head back and looking up at the ceiling. She was smiling a little now. I began rubbing her clitoris. “Tell me about your life...”
“Just git ta business, you don't need to be askin' us all those questions, that's not what yer here for.”
The rich lady's face went neutral again. “Right. Back to work, boy.” She turned her face back up to the ceiling. I think she was being ironic. After a moment she muttered, “Fucking a child to have a child. God.” She put her heels up toward the low ceiling and closed her legs. I couldn't reach her clitoris now or see her face. So I focused on pushing in and out in a steady rhythm.
After a long time, she began to breathe heavy again and then, moan. Her legs draped over my shoulders and I stroked them, her clitoris, her belly, and pumped faster. It happened soon after that. She moaned louder and longer and I pumped faster. Her eyes were closed and I assumed she was fantasizing. I licked my thumb to get it wetter and smelled sweet, scented oils on it from her skin and returned to rubbing her. “Ohhhh...oh! Oh, I feel it coming now, oh!” she cried and I pumped faster. I Wanted to try and cum when she did. She was becoming very wet. I felt a gush of warmth overtop and spill onto my testes. I was sweating now and I felt sticky every time my hips slapped her butt. “Oh! Shhhhhi-IT!” and then she was breathing like a fish out of water, her eyes and mouth open; and then I felt it come up and it felt like a river of hot water inside me, coming from my stomach and my legs and coming out of me through my penis. She shuddered and screamed and I buried myself in her as far as I could go and we froze. We were still for a while after.
“Nice, that was really nice boy! You did her real good, huh.” My mother broke the mood and I was angry at her again. Angry for the small amount of money she got from this rich lady. Angry that she was going to waste it, I could already see it coming. Angry that I had to be here and do this and she wasn't gonna make things better like she promised, it wasn't ever gonna change. But I can't talk when I'm really angry. I just looked away from her, at the broken wall, at the wooden ladder that went down through the back way to the street. 'Someday, I'll get away' was all I could think.
The rich lady rocked back and grabbed her legs behind the knees. She already knew that part so I didn't have to tell her. She was making sure her womb was at the bottom so the sperm had nowhere to go but to it. I guess she probably had made sure she was as fertile as she was gonna be for this and everything else was right. I wiped my penis on my red soccer jersey and looked around the floor for some pants to put on. A long while passed. I didn't look at the rich lady as she left but I heard her collect her things and shuffle her feet as she went out.
“I...” She said from outside, “I feel like I should...” She coughed and shuffled again. “What's your name? Can I give you a hug?”
I looked at her through the door frame. I shrugged.
She came back through and knelt in front of me, looking up at me and held me shoulders. I couldn't look at her eyes. “What...what's your name?” Her eyes were searching my face. I shrugged again. I wanted her to leave. Suddenly she hugged me hard and pressed something, paper into my hand. “I should know the name of the father of my child... Shouldn't I?”
“You’re a Clydent, You don't need to know me,” I said, looking her straight in the eye. I was angry again and I let her know it. I screwed up my face to look at her as mean as I could. “Your husband is the father! Go back to your husband!” I stepped back through the door and ran for the wooden ladder. I was down in a flash and sprinting along the street, clutching her paper in my hand as tight as I could.
I ran for a long while, miles. I stopped to catch my breath near the place where older people spent time together gossiping and trading small things. There was always a TV or two on, though it was powered by a windmill and if the wind wasn’t blowing the TV flickered a lot. “…the Texas famine has deepened. Some reports say as many as sixty thousand people have died this month alone from hunger and famine related illnesses…,” one TV announced. “…last year, there were over a hundred and seventy million deaths due to lack of drinking water in the western United States and territories…Europe has exhausted its supply of rice and wheat with five more months to go before new rations are allocated …” I suddenly felt starved myself and wondered how much food my mother might get with the money we got that day.
I went to the place I hold up when I need to be away from my mother. I kept my laptop there and books. I had a box of important things too, and some money I hoarded away. I crawled in and closed the flap of bamboo screen over the door. I cranked my lantern up until the LEDs lit up the space and I pulled out the metal box. I opened my hand to find a ten thousand note and a scrap of paper with some handwriting on it. The rich lady hadn't given us fifty-five thousand like we wanted but it ended up only five shy. And she gave it to me. My mother didn't know about it. It was enough to buy some car batteries and maybe a portable reader for archived library access. I dropped it into the box along with the other money. I had about sixty-eight thousand now. Really, I wouldn't spend it on anything yet. I wanted a reader and some new batteries but I was thirty-two thousand away from a rail-pass. I was going to get outta
I cranked up my laptop. It was very old and could only get on the freeweb. It used a clunky point and click UI and the screen was flared out with color spots so the visible area was pretty small.
Pirates used it and people in the scrapyard to post things we could use here. I learned about massage and women's sex organs and reproduction on it. I watched the news everyday and checked on under-market rail tickets. There was a story about a car bomb in the scrapyard a few miles from us and a gangland traffic warning. There was also a story about the world population. “...eighteen billion as of the Second quarter of this year. Down more than a billion people from the projection of six years ago but far more than analysts were hoping for. That means there are still a lot of POP-Jammers out there killing us, killing the planet...”
That was me. I was a POP-Jammer. I Hadn't been castrated when I was born and I was out here adding thirty four, thirty-five now, maybe, new babies to the world. I was the one who was killing the planet. But all I wanted to do was get away.
The scrap of paper had an address on it and a name. Doris Cunningham. I folded it over and held onto it for a moment. If I had fire, I might have burned it but instead, I dropped it in my box.