TW: spousal abuse
Some days I wish I wasn’t here. Not in a suicidal way or anything, I’m not quite there yet. No, in a way like I wish that I could be in a cocoon, held tightly by something stronger and more durable than myself, growing and becoming a better version of me. I would give anything to feel that way.
I had taken to exploring secluded areas of the woods to try to make this dream a reality. I was convinced that if I find the right area, surely I can become one with the moss. It simply had to be doable, I won’t accept this way of living anymore. This, unfortunately, did not pan out, as I am sure you can guess.
And sure, I don’t have too bad of a life. I have a girlfriend, a nice job, reasonable housing in a market that is constantly looking to fuck over the little guy. It just isn’t enough anymore. Man was not meant to work a 9-5 until he’s almost dead and this guy right here, is no different.
Catherine, my girlfriend, says I need to be happy with what we have. She doesn’t know my secret desires but then again, no one does besides myself. She’s constantly on me, “Andrew, if it’s so bad, maybe volunteer. Give to charity, do something besides watching nature documentaries all day.”
What does she know? I love her and all but she can be a real pain sometimes. She thinks if we are not starving or dying, we must be happy. Hearing her scoff at me makes me feel like if I don’t have a fucking bullethole in my head, what right do I have to complain? I tell you though, If I have to hear about the starving children of Africa one more time, I may no longer be bullethole free.
I’m just so tired of the idea that if someone has it worse, life is okay. It’s not the pain olympics. I can suffer, too. I can bleed just the same and who cares if mine is only from a papercut while someone else’s is from being garrotted? My pain matters, too.
So this is why I have started this project, my little passion of trying to find a material that I feel could give me what I want. Moss didn’t do the trick. Paper was laughable. I have run the gamut of trying to find something to fulfill my destiny of being just absolutely swallowed. No, it’s not a vore thing. Not everything is sexual, despite what reddit would tell you. I just want to feel…secure. I want to believe that when I come out of my chrysalis, I will be new. I will be whole.
It wasn’t until yesterday that I had my breakthrough.
I was walking with Catherine again with her yammering about how this celebrity married this musician and didn’t I know how absolutely crazy that is, they’re, like, totally different people, when I saw it. My muse. My solution.
There she was, a vision in gold sunlight, an absolute fucking dream. She gave me all I needed and the absolution felt so divine, it was like all the pieces fell into place and my puzzle was finally complete. I would have my dream. I would be made anew. This pregnant woman has given me more than I could ever hope and I deeply pray that she someday knows how thankful I am for her.
Thus begins my plan to impregnate Catherine.
It’ll be tricky, you see. She’s always been somewhat child-free, which for the record, I have been as well, so I gotta be sneaky.
I begin subtly making comments, pointing out babies. I start sending her funny videos that alternate between cute animals, babies, funny crotch kicks, babies, misheard lyrics, babies. Before she can even catch on, oops all babies.
Then I start telling her how beautiful I think our children could be. How lovely and wonderful it could be to create something that is so perfectly a mix between her and I. Around month 2 of this, she’s folding. Bingo.
Finally, she approaches me and asks to have a serious talk. She’s noticed how lively I have been and it has been so nice. The change of pace is exactly what she needed to feel right about having children. Knowing they’ll have a father like me seals the deal and makes her feel excited to be a mom.
We start trying to conceive, I am doing everything she asks to make my semen healthy and active. She’s tracking her ovulation periods down to a fucking science and I am so much closer to my beautiful dream that I can almost taste it. I dream of it when I sleep and I think about it all day when I am awake. It doesn’t matter what I am doing, I am planning my future. My perfect future.
The day comes, she’s pregnant! Our families are ecstatic, though it is a little bit awkward when they point out that we began trying before we even got married. Both families are so religious, it was only to be expected. We placate them with promises of baptisms, first communions, anything to get them off of our backs. Despite being irreligious, I don’t care. I won’t be here to see it. Neither will Catherine.
I give in to her every craving and encourage them. She wants a slice of cheesecake? Babe, I got you this whole one. You want some popcorn? I smothered it in butter for you. Soon, she is not just round from the growth of our child, but also because my efforts are paying off.
Our son is born on June 1st. It’s the happiest day of my life, I weep tears of joy. I am now in my final stage and free to leave soon. The chrysalis will be complete.
Catherine never even saw it coming. She didn’t understand why I asked my parents to watch Gavin for the evening. ‘He’s so little, he needs his mommy.’ I soothed her fears with promises to call and check our baby monitor through the app. She gives in. She even accepts the glass of wine I give her and doesn’t even question the white residue on top.
Relieving her of her skin was surprisingly tricky. Luckily for me, however, the elasticity of her skin from carrying our child and all the extra weight she gained provided me with even more materials. I am a fairly tall guy, though, so I may need more. No matter. One down, however many more I need to go. I am so close to my destiny. You guys aren’t going to believe how easy it is to achieve your dreams, if you set your mind to it.