Try and figure out how this world works

You need to figure out how this world works. But you need to be subtle.

“How’s the pregnancy is going?” you ask, sitting down on a nearby chair. You need to speak over the quiet chugging of the milking machine.

“Alright, I guess; cravings, back pain. The usual,” she replies. “Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering. Who’s the father? Chris?” you ask, curious about her boyfriend of the past few years.

“He wasn’t around when my Open Phase started. I think I was at the grocery at the time,” Amy says, thinking out loud. “That day was pretty crazy,” she muses. “There were so many guys in the store that I couldn’t leave for hours.” Her casual mention of being gangbanged in public makes you harder, but you need to learn more.

“Your Open Phase?” you ask, confused.

“The Open Phase of my Ovulation Cycle. You know, when women start ovulating. We release pheromones that let you know that we’re free to fuck. At least until they get pregnant again. We release different pheromones when we’re off limits. Didn’t you pay attention in sex-ed?”

You chuckle nervously at what is obviously intended as a joke, but in this case, hits uncomfortably close to home. “Must hurt, giving birth every few months,” you say.

Amy laughs a bit. “What are you talking about? On a scale of 1 to 10, it’s about a 3. Maybe a 4 if the girl is really wimpy.” You stop yourself from reacting in surprise. You’re pretty sure that giving birth should be an 11 on that scale, but you guess that that’s one of the things Charles and his Doc fixed. Internally, you breath a sigh of relief that women aren’t being put in unnecessary amounts of pain for your benefit.

“What happens after?” you ask, after a moment. At Amy’s confused look, you clarify “After you give birth. What happens to the baby? It didn’t look like you had any kids at your apartment.”

“John, what’s up with you today? It’s like you’ve forgotten everything.” When you don’t answer, she readjusts her teat cups' pipes (now filled with milk) and continues. “The government takes them. They pay a fee for every baby born, then they send them to the space colonies.”

“There are space colonies?!” you ask incredulously. Your fetish has apparently had some far reaching consequences.

“With the overpopulation of Earth, humanity achieved space flight in 1807 and established colonies across the solar system by 1843,” she says, as if reciting from memory. “Now you’re forgetting basic history?” she mocks you gently.

“So, if all the babies are shot into space, how do people make families?” you ask, still reeling from the previous revelation.

“If anyone wants to raise a family, they need to apply to keep their next kid,” Amy says, giving you an odd look. “There’s a big application process; forms and home visits and everything. And before you ask,” Amy interrupts your next question, “Me and Chris aren’t ready to start a family yet, if ever.”

‘If ever?’ That little comment gives you some hope that you might have a chance. And also brings your mind back to what you originally had in mind. You glance at her, biting your lip. She’s so tantalizingly close. Those awesome boobs, that plump ass, that round belly. If only she could be yours. Wait… she can be yours! ‘Free Use: Pregnant Women’ right? That was what you specified to Charles. But you need to be sure.

“Speaking of Chris, how’s the sex?” you ask, keeping your tone nonchalant. Such is your closeness with Amy that this is a question that was always completely normal for you to ask.

“Still completely nonexistent!” Amy groans, flopping back on her chair. “Chris is one of those guys that subscribes to the whole ‘No pregger sex until marriage’ idea, remember? I’ve been trying to win him over, but he won’t budge. I love him, but it’s infuriating!” So, there is a section of the female population that aren’t being sexually satisfied while their pregnant, which is a significant portion of their lives. This is good knews.

“Without you, I would have gone crazy!” she says, stopping your thoughts short. She puts her hand on your arm. “I know I don’t say it enough, but I’m really thankful for all that you’ve done for me,” she says feelingly.

“We’ve had sex?” you ask, shock roughening your voice.

“John, I’m starting to get a bit worried here,” Amy says, her tone becoming concerned. Putting a hand to your forehead, she mutters, “No fever… Are you really feeling alright?”

“I’m… I’m fine, really. I’m alright,” you reassure her. “Please, just answer the question; did we have sex?”

“Lots of times,” she adds, her tone becoming wistful. “Like rabbits. Sometimes you wouldn’t even let me leave my apartment. The longest was a five days, I think.”

“And Chris doesn’t mind?”

“Mind? Why would he mind? You have your way with pregnant ladies all over the city. One more isn’t going to make a difference.”

“Well, you aren’t just any lady,” you say.

“Oh, John. You know I love you too, but that’s still not going to work on me,” she says, mock-reprimandingly. “You know my answer already; ‘Let’s stay friends,’” you both say in unison, chuckling.

In the past, you would have gone and gotten a few drinks at this point. Now, however, you don’t feel nearly as bad. Having Amy’s pregnant body for your exclusive use is a great consolation prize. You could take her right now if you wanted to.