SEVENTEEN

Feature Writer: S.Moulder

Feature Title: SEVENTEEN (Chapters 1 to 4)

Published: 23.06.2006

Story Codes: Abortion, Devil Worship, Human Sacrifice

Synopsis: Gwen enjoys the satanic abortion process

Seventeen

CHAPTER ONE

“Are you really going to do it?” asked Roberta, Gwen’s friend.

“You’re so big!”

“Yup …” replied Gwen, with a smile under her dark sunglasses as the two women lay back on lounge chairs.

“At eight months and one week for this one!”

Roberta just stared in amazement in the direction of the innocent being who’s time was about to abruptly and violently end.

“The child looks so safe in there,” she thought to herself.

She then looked up at Gwen, as Gwen drank her margarita. They had been friends in high school, and now, twelve years later, had run into each other by co-incidence in Tampico, Mexico.

“Have you had any before?” asked Roberta.

Gwen smiled demurely and felt the baby kick.

“Seventeen,” she said, proudly, after a slight hesitation.

“Seventeen?” gulped Roberta, as she looked around nervously to see if anyone had heard.

She whispered, aghast, “I didn’t know that anyone could have that many abortions!”

“Well,” said Gwen calmly, on the sun-drenched patio, “I wouldn’t suggest it if you mean surgical abortion …”

She was really enjoying herself on this vacation (maternity leave).

“I …” started Roberta, looking around again at the Mexicans nearby, “I didn’t know there was any other kind!” she whispered emphatically.

She waited for Gwen to offer information, but when Gwen just raised her face to the sun, soaking it in.

Roberta asked, “How do you kill your children then?”

Gwen smiled big in her black bikini, looking down at the enormous, living bulge obscuring her sexy panty.

“My doctor uses hypnotic techniques, Roberta,” she stated, searching her friend’s eyes for any type of comprehension, “It’s a special type of hypnosis, actually. She trains and hypnotizes me throughout the pregnancy and it is I who hypnotize the baby. It’s easy, as long as you have and keep the trust of the child. I can make mine do anything; laugh, cry, wet, take a shit, I can make him sick, flip over, go to sleep…”

Roberta was dazzled. She had never heard a person speak in so cavalier-a-fashion about murdering their children, let alone enjoying it! Her clit rose as she considered the captive child whom she could not help … even if she had wanted to. She swung her legs out, sat up and leaned forward, touching Gwen’s thigh.

“You just give it a command and the baby spontaneously aborts?”

She continued staring at Gwen’s distended belly glistening with sun-block.

“Well, no …” replied Gwen, humorously, “It’s not that simple! There’s always a fight between mommy and baby …  but that’s where all the fun is!”

“Is it a he or a she?” asked Roberta, her eyes sparkling into Gwen’s.

“It’s a he …” replied Gwen. Roberta placed one of her palms on Gwen’s taut abdomen, and as she stroked it, wondered if the boy’s penis could feel it and if it was becoming erect.

“Yes,” she said, her voice trembling a bit from excitement, “I’m sure baby boy does not want to go bye bye!”

They both laughed.

“Why did you wait so … you know …long?” asked Roberta, at the same time admiring the beauty of the huge orb in front of her, protruding from underneath Gwen’s breasts.

Roberta felt a perverse amusement to think that the child was so very close to his mother’s breasts, but would never taste their milk. She was glad about it, even though she didn’t know why.

“Two reasons,” Gwen replied, taking a sip of her drink (her second margarita), then placing it down and lighting a cigarette.

“One is because I want to spend as much, “quality time,” as possible with my little man. And two is because the older and bigger they get, the harder they fight you to stay alive during their ordeal.”

Roberta was shocked, but giggled, putting a hand over her mouth.

“I think I’ll order a drink now myself!” she said.

They both chuckled.

“So tell me all about it!”

Roberta spouted, crowding close to her old friend whom she had a newfound respect for as a vehicle of life and death.

“Well … ” began Gwen, wishing she could ask Roberta to straddle her and bounce a little on her tummy to induce pain to the fetus, “We use large crystals to empower and direct our thought and feeling energy into the womb. We use chanting, too. It creates a rhythm which I internalize and it turns into contractions, eventually. There is absolutely no pain. It is an incredible experience. You go into an altered state of consciousness.”

“So there are other people involved?” asked her friend.

“Yes. Usually,” said Gwen, “There have been as many as six chanting over me.”

“So the baby is born alive?” she asked.

“No, honey,” said the eight-months pregnant woman, “Not usually. We frighten the child to death in the womb.”

Gwen had Roberta almost completely under her spell, now, and Roberta, upon hearing this, almost burst out laughing.

“You should see how much baby shit is in the amnion, afterward!” commented Gwen.

Roberta wished she could get her hands on her pie and masturbate as Gwen was telling her all this.

“One of my children was aborted alive, though,” Gwen stated, “It happens once in a while.”

She smiled and kissed Roberta’s hand.

“I’ll tell you what we do with the crystals,” Gwen offered, “We position them on and direct their energy into my first and third chakras. Do you know about the energy centers?”

“Yes,” nodded Roberta.

“Like I said, I train throughout my pregnancies, and once I have sent the child increasingly dark energy at the abortion, and poked and prodded him with, “Psychic knives,” we close off and shut down the energy connections between baby and me. The child goes wild with panic.”

Both women’s clitoris were standing on end.

“The abortionist and I send energy through the crystals that attack the child from two different directions. We send thought-forms of snakes, dragons, spiders … little devils with pitchforks …The baby flails and twists and kicks and screams. You should see my stomach!” laughed Gwen.

“You mean you can see the baby writhing from the outside?”

“You sure can …” said Gwen, crushing her cigarette and giving her belly a hard slap.

Gwen always knew just how much pain her babies could take, and knew that this one had had a very easy morning.

She rose, and said, “The abortion is on Sunday. Would you like me to see if I can get you in to attend the murder of my little boy?”

Her nipples were so hard that they hurt. Everyone could see them, through the black material. Roberta gulped, her eyes wide and starry as they took in the sight of a sweet, unborn infant, God’s most blessed gift to the world, trapped in a prison which he called, “Mommy” and who’s only sin was being conceived in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Yes,” Roberta replied resolutely, “I’d like that very much.”

She actually orgasmed as she said that.

CHAPTER TWO

As Gwen drove home, she felt a burning urge from within her tummy and the child there-in. She knew what it was. For the first (and last) eight months of her unborn son’s life, she had trained him to understand that the only attention he would get from her would be abuse, either physical or emotional.

This was it’s karmic choice, part of the price it had agreed to pay before it had been conceived. Now, the child based it’s relationship with his mom on this kind of treatment and craved it … especially when he knew she was alone and could give it to him.

She lit some incense in the ash tray, a mixture of myrrh and lavender, because it helped the communication between mother and child. As soon as Gwen had smelled the incense, she had heard and felt her little baby saying, “Hi mommy!” He was always so glad she could, “Hear” him again. He was so glad to connect with her. Fetuses are so forgiving.

She pressed her tummy up against the steering wheel and bounced hard against it, but knew sweetums would not be very affected by that. She pushed the button on the electric seat and Gwen’s tummy squeezed harder against the steering wheel. She pressed the button again. Now, Gwen knew that the boy’s spleen and intestines and ribs were being pressed-on violently. He was psychically pleading with her to stop.

He wondered what he could do to make her happy so that she would not hurt him anymore. Another push of the button on the electric seat adjuster and the little boy was screaming, crying uncontrollably and defecating in the womb. Gwen knew this, so grinned from ear-to-ear, waited a couple of seconds … and reversed the seat direction to detach her eight-month-pregnant belly from the steering wheel.

She knew he was still crying ten minutes later. She also knew the child was wondering who he could turn to for help once he was born. He was trying to, “Home in,” on Gwen’s mother. Fat chance. The baby’s would-be maternal grandmother didn’t know a thing about him, and even if she found out, the boy was going to be aborted anyway.

Conception, pregnancy and abortion was why Gwen moved to Tampico … away from family and friends. It was also where her Satanic group lived. This little boy’s abortion would take as long as three hours. After Gwen entered the room and dropped her black, silk cape behind her and walked to the four foot high altar to sacrifice her unborn son, she would lie down on it on her back and her wrists, ankles and neck would be restrained with leather collars which were chained to the five points of the pentagram on the stone floor.

If she was unrestrained, unbidden and unwanted demons might try to get inside the, “Magic circle,” of the ritual and get her to hurt herself or disrupt the proceedings. Sometimes angels or ancestors of the offering would do the same thing. The High Priest would be there and so would the High Priestess, with six male members and six female members.

The child would be evicted from the womb by it’s own mother, with the help of the group. The child would fear what lay in wait for him outside, but would be unable to stay in the panic, hostility and severe pain of his mother’s womb. The twelve members would be gathered around the, “Vehicle,” (Gwen), masturbating and chanting, creating a thick, psychic ring of protection for Gwen to send her child back to spirit. By the time it would be expelled, it would be frightened to death.

Gwen got the child home and sat down to her twice-daily confirmation ritual, where the child’s guardian demons were appeased and guardian angels were assessed and repelled. Since the abortion was tomorrow, she had to know that the powers of light were not going to pull something tricky at or just before the ritual abortion. Everything seemed fine to her.

The powers of darkness had complete control over this child. The main reason for which was because Gwen had devoted herself so fully to Satanism and the knowledge that some women and men are born to create life and some are born to destroy it. Both forces of nature are necessary and both deserve to be worshiped.

She knew her spiritual place. As Gwen was doing her ritual, re-dedicating her unborn son to the powers of darkness, Roberta was at her hotel, masturbating vigorously. She had been extremely turned on by what Gwen had told her and especially by the fact that she was going to witness an abortion tomorrow.

She had never thought of abortion as erotic until now and was amazed by her new awakening of passion. She was so wet she came three times in a half hour. She secretly always wanted to see someone die. Not just Hollywood die, but a real death. Someone she didn’t know or care about. Violently if possible.

She never thought she would ever get to see it happen and never in a million years did she think it would be a tiny, little baby. These are the kind of secret thoughts that most women do not share with anyone else … usually not even their best friends. There is one inescapable truth though, for male and female of any age alike — watching someone die violently is one of the most exciting things one can do.

After eight months of hurting, frightening and working to retain her unborn son, Gwen would open her legs around three o’ clock tomorrow morning when a priestess would arrive to introduce the powdered herbs to her womb. This would begin the process, which would culminate that evening, enabling Gwen to begin another cycle.

CHAPTER THREE

When the blessed day came for Gwen’s perfectly-healthy child to be killed, Gwen was at Roberta’s hotel room door bright and early … around four o’clock in the morning Roberta had given her a key, so she entered quietly, in case her friend was sleeping. In fact, she hoped that she was, because some preparation had to be done on Roberta’s energy before she could participate in the sacrifice ritual slated for 8:02 that evening, and the sleep state would be desirable for access to her (and her baby’s) subconscious.

In her black lace dress and black, shiny high-heels, Gwen unlocked the door and whispered to her not-to-be-born child: “We’re going to visit someone who wants to see you come out tonight!” The child kicked. Gwen gave her tummy a little punch on the child’s ass, returning the blow, and when she felt that all-too-familiar feeling of the child in pain, she said, psychically, “I love you …” in a sing-song voice, to calm the child down. Fetuses are suckers for the, “L,” word, no matter if you abuse them or not. They so want to believe it.

Pregnant Gwen indeed found her woman friend asleep, lying on her stomach, and sat down next to her on the bed very gently, even with the 6 pound baby boy inside her.

“Perfect,” thought Gwen, and lay one hand on the back of Roberta’s head (altar major chakra) and the other hand she placed on the base of Roberta’s spine (sacral chakra).

Through a complex and elaborate series of manipulations, Gwen was able to re-vitalize Roberta’s primal instincts by putting her cellular awareness much more in touch with her distant past where death was looked at as not only a necessary balance, weeding out the weak in society, but a religious celebration of transformation.

Sliding her hand under Roberta’s body about three inch below her navel, Gwen now finalized the treatment. The vibrations were tremendous as Roberta’s animal instinct/nature was aroused after many lifetimes of dormancy and suppression. Suddenly, in Roberta’s dream, sex, death, life, killing and healing all became one. She awakened, almost screaming with an awful pain below her navel.

Gwen held her mouth … and held her down until she acquiesced. Roberta had turned and caught a glimpse of Gwen. She knew it was her … and decided to trust her, putting her life and spirit in Gwen’s hands. Roberta could only lay there, in a state of near-paralysis as she felt and visualized knowledges and rememberances that had profound and dramatic effects upon her.

She felt her vagina gaping and pulsing. Her clitoris felt so big that it seemed it was rubbing against the sheet under her, like a giant, feminine penis. She felt a liquid ooze from her in a constant stream that was the most enjoyable sensation she had ever felt. She was ready.

She turned, then, to lay on her back and face her friend. She had tears of joy. Now, she looked down at the captive soul inside Gwen and understood completely. All of her socialization and so-called morality had been erased and her true, instinctive, ritualistic nature exposed for her to enjoy.

The two women clasped hands and it felt as if one’s blood was coursing, pounding into the other. Energetically, this was so. This was now Roberta’s abortion almost as much as it was the child’s carrier’s.

“It won’t be a doctor,” Gwen lovingly told Roberta.

After a short pause, Roberta replied, “I know,” she continued, “I had a dream that the child was brought to a place of great wonder and surprise, where pain turned into freedom and little children first learned lessons and then became spirits.”

She then described her encounter with Gwen’s child’s spirit.

“I even know the little boy’s name. It’s Timothy. He was about two and a half, and Timothy and I were walking through a park, and I was explaining to him in detail all about the ritual abortion. He seemed very interested in it all. He had a lot of, “Why, questions.”

Gwen listened intently to every detail of Roberta’s dream.

“He even tried to get me to help him. To disrupt the abortion ritual so that he could be born alive and become a little boy. He offered me sex if I could help him survive this. He especially didn’t like the idea of his spirit being sent to hell. He seemed confused by it.”

Gwen hesitated, gently running her fingers through Roberta’s pubic hair and pulling up on their ends. (Hair magick is a very potent form of magick).

She then asked, “Well? Are you going to help him?”

“No way in hell,” replied Roberta, and sat up to hug the woman who was ready to expel her beautiful child.

In fact, the blue cohosh, pennyroyal, tansy and myrrh were already beginning to work their magic on the little baby boy, who had been dreaming of little trucks, baseballs and fire engines. He was now feeling as though less blood and oxygen were coming from his mommy’s placenta, however, and was wondering why. Maybe she was sick, or anxious or depressed, he wondered. He hoped.

As Roberta released Gwen from her embrace, the kid felt the first of the twitches, too. They would lead to full-blown spasms, later, especially once the ritual began, with it’s chanting and the, “Baby Becomes Mother,” sequence performed by the High Priestess. The High Priestess times this maneuver precisely, and when she performs it, placing her hands on the carrier’s bloated abdomen, sometimes the water breaks immediately and the dead child appears before them within an hour.

“You know that we’re Satanists, don’t you?” Gwen asked.

Roberta turned on the lamp.

“Well, I didn’t know what you call it, but it is the truest thing I’ve ever felt.”

Seeing Gwen’s garb, naked Roberta went to her closet and extracted a black leather, laced front, cut-away corset and laid it on her bed. When she bent, she noticed that she was still very wet and dilated from Gwen’s treatment.

“Do you see that, sweetheart?” Gwen said to her child, looking in his direction.

“We’re getting ready!”

She gave her belly a couple of hard, fast pulls from underneath. This always made her child nauseous, and more than ten or eleven of them would usually make him regurgitate inside her womb. This child had had particularly violent reactions to his, “Mother,” being suspended in an inverse position. Especially in the last two months of it’s life.

“I can’t wait to kill him!” said Roberta, squeezing her breasts and lapping her tongue at them.

She smiled to Gwen. Gwen was so touched by that that she approached Roberta and hugged her. The two women french kissed, and at the right moment.

Gwen whispered in Roberta’s ear, “Do you want to knock him unconscious?”

Roberta looked down at the bulging abdomen and asked, “Can you tell when he’s out?”

“Oh. I can tell, all right,” responded Gwen.

“Then let’s do it,” said Roberta, resolutely.

Gwen pulled a thin, wooden, twelve inch paddle from inside her dress and arranged a pile of pillows on the bed. Gwen calmly took her dress, panties and shoes off and the two women sat down on the bed, facing each other, Gwen’s hips jutting up from the pillows underneath.

“Okay,” she said, “Pull down on my tummy right here, over my cunt, flattening the skin toward my navel. Then hit with the other hand. Okay? Hit good and hard. Otherwise we will just make him dizzy.”

Roberta got into position and holding the leather instrument, realized that she was finally going to abuse an unborn child, actually bringing it close to death. All women secretly fantasize about a similar scenario. She brought the paddle down hard, but could tell from Gwen’s reaction that it was not enough.

Gwen was scanning the child for a reaction. Roberta then reared back, her tits swinging as the paddle dived for the back of the boy’s head. Gwen knew instantly that he was crying. This infuriated Roberta, who jumped to a kneeling position to get a much larger arc for a harder hit. Her clit stood up as she felt the motherly power that all women feel when they physically and emotionally punish their children. The boy screamed even before it hit.

Bam!

Gwen smiled radiantly, eyes squinted, and squeezed Roberta’s other hand in thanks and to help Roberta feel what the child was feeling in it’s altered state. The baby was unconscious, and all of it’s focus was now on repairing the physical damage done to it’s head and brain.

Though Gwen had trained for it for years and therefore felt what the boy was feeling a lot more than Roberta did, Roberta still was totally swept away by the sensations of cellular awareness. The vulnerability, the panic and the intensity of the fetus’s present state was highly erotic. Roberta kissed Gwen’s cunt and they lay together for the rest of the morning and well into the afternoon.

CHAPTER FOUR

Gwen’s child was kicking up a storm by the time she and Roberta walked past the iron gate and into the foyer of the house now being used as a Satanic church. To the woman carrying the child to it’s life-after-death, this was nothing new. They had all reacted similarly to their up-coming demise. All seventeen of them. Some had been as young as nine weeks old, but all of them knew.

They knew what was going to happen. That’s why, at this time, it was important for Gwen to intensify her effort to send thoughts, feelings and images of, “Serenity,” and “Love,” and “Protection,” to her unborn child.

The child had to die at just the right moment for the energy of the ritual to be of maximum use to the group. If the baby aborted spontaneously, beforehand, it would be a disappointment and failure for Gwen and the High Priestess. The forces of light were doing everything they could to get the child out or at least retrieve it’s spirit before the ritual. The group had been devoting it’s energy in the opposite direction, having claimed ownership of it’s soul and begun manipulation of it’s energy even before it’s conception.

In the dark, Gothic foyer they were received by an older male in full servant’s attire. He greeted them briefly but warmly. He did not look down at Gwen’s bulge or even think about her condemned child. The seventy-year-old man had been trained for many years on the proper use of inter-personal energy before and after ritual. This was all between mother and child now. No distractions for Gwen.

The servant then left them, adjourning to an adjacent room, the Oak door of which he opened and closed with much grace. Gwen could feel herself dilating and her nipples were becoming sensitive. They would be fully erect within an hour. The abortion ritual would take place in under an hour and a half, but there were no clocks nor watches allowed in the church, so Gwen and Roberta could not know how long they had to wait, even if they had wanted to know.

They decided to sit on a wooden, antique bench against the wall. The two women took turns pumping the other’s hand with their own as they looked gratefully and worshipfully into each other’s eyes. Roberta was mesmerized by the fierce passion of Gwen’s eyes, which revealed the magic of seventeen children being called from spirit and then sent back again in the most fundamental and potent acts of formation and transformation. Roberta felt so sanctified, so chosen to be part of this vital, instinctive magic. She had never felt so alive.

Two women, both priestesses, around age eighteen, wearing only silver high heels, chain mail bra and panties and nipple jewelry walked down the hall toward the vehicle and her escort. Gwen stood in offering and they ushered her away. Gwen being taken down the hall, voluntarily walking her child into oblivion, was one of the most beautiful things Roberta had ever seen.

She had no way of knowing that there would be profound beauty on a much larger scale very, very soon. When the priestesses and Gwen stopped in front of a door down the hall, preparing to enter the room, Roberta psychically said goodbye to the little baby boy she had known so very briefly.

Roberta was among the thirteen naked, female members arranged in an 18′ wide circle around the altar when Gwen appeared from behind a door in the large, darkened, candle-lit room. The smell pervading the atmosphere was of sulfur, and myrrh, and frankincense. There was also the smell of a decaying flesh of some sort. To make the scene even more surreal, there was also the scent of something sweet.

As Gwen stood still and dropped her only clothing, a black, silk cape, the High Priestess left the circle, walking forward to the altar. Gwen walked through the opening made by her in the circle of women. She stood, facing the High Priestess in front of the altar. The scene was calm, yet intense, as the High Priestess scanned Gwen’s energy and that of her very frightened and dying child. She needed to know which spirits were present who would either assist or attempt to thwart the group’s efforts and goals. She hypnotized Gwen and her baby, by eye contact with the baby’s carrier using a very specialized, ancient method of energy transfer.

The High Priest, followed by six mostly-naked male assistants, now entered the circle in the same way the High Priestess had. The circle was then closed. He nodded to the High Priestess and Gwen laid down on the altar. She was given more Black Cohosh and Blue Cohosh extract as her ankles, wrists and neck were chained to the five points of the pentagram on the stone floor. A Baphomet was painted on her shaved pubis, the horns of it extending up past her ovaries on her swollen belly. Her hips were raised and she appeared, then, to be draped over the altar in the ultimate symbol of feminine, Satanic power.

The High Priestess slowly swirled her palm over the vehicle’s uterus, counter-clockwise, reciting an incantation. Gwen had hardly begun screaming from her cervix being opened psychically when the High Priestess put her other hand on Gwen’s throat chakra and Gwen was immediately silent. The High Priest took up his position between the vehicle’s legs.The High Priestess stood six feet behind him. The six male assistants, some wearing bits of fetish gear, stood around Gwen, three on each side.

They began chanting and masturbating.

The female members, forming the circle which was the container of the magickal energy ritual, produced a humming, vibrating sound that Roberta had been taught and seemed a natural at.

There were spirits of light about, though, trying to protect the child, and everyone seemed to sense it. Even Roberta looked around at the ceiling, sensing something. So far, the child’s guardian spirits had not been able to penetrate the circle. If need be, the Satanic group would, “Raise a cone of power,” or use countless other weapons at the High Priestess’ and High Priest’s disposal.

The High Priest and High Priestess could tell that these guardian spirits were not of a high degree, so were most likely just ancestors from a past life or genetic ancestors. They weren’t to be under-estimated, but probably did not have the power to penetrate this group’s circle.

The High Priest knelt to deliver the spoonful of herbal powder and oxide paste to Gwen’s womb. The thin, solid gold eighteen inch spoon easily slid past her opened cervix, which was the only, feeble defense the boy being sacrificed had.

The little boy increased his kicking and thrashing inside it’s carrier’s womb, so the men became more aroused spiritually/sexually and the women in the circle intensified their vibratory humming. One after another, the males ejaculated onto Gwen’s face.

The High Priestess wiped the semen into Gwen’s mouth, which she hungrily swallowed as she felt the boy inside her scream for mercy. The child psychically showed her pictures of, “The happy life they could have together,” if she would only decide to save him. It was already too late, though.

Gwen’s placenta was being torn away from the rest of her body, mainly by the immense psychic power of the High Priestess, who was using the rhythms and energies concentrated in the circle, indeed, even using the unborn child’s fear, confusion and pain, to bring the premature child into the view of all present.

Gwen’s hips jutted up and down and swayed from side to side in a grotesque dance of unborn pain and death. While enjoying the child’s blood-curdling screams within her, as always, she was able to perform the psychic techniques of visualization that separated the child from it’s carrier’s energy. If she kept this exhausting maneuver up, the child would soon be dead.

All would rest on Gwen’s ability to accept energy from the rest of the group, to replace her own. She had proven, time and again, that she was capable of this. She had a photo album at home of all the children she had aborted in ritual, to prove this.
Everyone heard it.

It was the child’s voice.

“Mommy?” emanated eerily from every wall of the room.

The powers of light had found a psychic toe-hold and they had to be stopped. The High Priestess stood at Gwen’s head and Gwen felt every hair on her body stand up. The High Priestess and High Priest then raised their arms over their heads, sending power and protection in an elaborate network over Gwen’s soon-to-be-vacated body. Feeling the intense attack, the cowering child screamed louder than he ever had, regurgitated, defecated, urinated and died, spasming at the top of Gwen’s womb, away from her vagina.

It was time for baby to take the trip. The High Priestess captured, stored and sealed the child’s energy and spirit inside a large quartz crystal as she saw it emerge from it’s and then Gwen’s body.

The High Priest took out a gold, ten inch wide loop with a handle and placed it lightly on Gwen’s abdomen. He slowly drew it down, down toward her vagina, with the utmost concentration. The boy fetus was magnetically drawn down by it. This one was a, “Feet firs.t” It happens about half the time.

The High Priestess easily pulled the dead, grey boy out, who was still shaking. A single touch over Gwen’s womb by the High Priestess re-constricted Gwen’s cervix, giving her body some relief. The High Priestess then looked up at Gwen’s lactating, defiantly feminine breasts and wiped the crystal in the milk that was dribbling down … and quickly and reverently wrapped the crystal in black silk.

THE END