Erotica | Interracial | Pregnancy
Wombs As Reparations — Chapter 1
The Story of Stephanie
Stephanie, a blonde southern white girl from Texas, is a few weeks away from enrolling into Texas Eastern University. She’s no valedictorian, but still got a full ride to a decent public college in a huge city. Maybe she could have worked harder for a scholarship to an ivy league, but she didn’t care all that much about the brand recognition.
Her father often complained, “if you were one of them Blacks, you’d get paid out the ass to go anywhere!” Steph always rolled her eyes anytime her idiot dad brought up race and politics. The two seemed so intertwined nowadays.
Every day after work, her father would plop on the couch and watch Wolf News, with the same old white anchor spouting the same old nonsense at their mindless consumer zombies.
“Those liberals are destroying this country!” he’d scream as he rubbed his bulging beer belly and pounded another bottle of horse piss. In between anchors, several commercials would come on, and they often showcased mixed race couples.
“Why’s it always a Black man and a white woman? You know how rare that is? Ain’t no white woman wanna do that. Darlin’, you best marry a nice American boy at your fancy school, you hear?”
Once again, she rolled her eyes. “Dad, people of color are Americans too…”
“Excuse me? You think you can live in my house, eat my food, drive my car, and spout that liberal nonsense?! What in the hell’s a matter with you? What happened to my little darlin’? That school better not’ve turned you into a nutjob.”
Stephanie couldn’t stomach his blatant bigotry any longer, so without a word she scurried out the front door of the trailer house. It never shut just right so she just let it flap in the wind.
Whenever she was stressed, she’d go for long walks. There wasn’t much to do in their small town, so she’d just walk alongside the road out of their trailer park and towards whatever they called “civilization.”
Of course, there weren’t any sidewalks anywhere, so she’d just tough it out in the grass. Her white shoes had dark, brown stains from all the mud trotted through over the past several months.
Regardless, Stephanie was a stunningly beautiful woman. She turned 19 last Sunday and was ready for her teens to be over. She stood at a petite 5’4 and had a very slim physique. Steph was always jealous of other girls with big, round, bubble butts and others with voluptuous breasts that spilled out of their bras. But at least she had wide hips, toned legs, and beautiful, glowing skin.
Her hair was light blonde and came down to her ribs. Everyone assumed she dyed it, but her family came from a long line of Swedes, until her grandfather moved to Wisconsin in the seventies. Her blue eyes were as deep as Lake Michigan, and they intimidated any boy who met their glaze.
With each step, her hips swayed side to side, which triggered many passing cars to slow down for a better look or holler at such a wonderful sight. The latter would almost always happen from the town’s poor white folks, which seemed to be about everyone within a 50 mile radius.
One blue pickup with a rebel flag on the back passed her by as all 3 passenger’s whooped and hollered at the beautiful Nordic girl. Instead of rolling her eyes, she did something even worse by completely ignoring them. She was beyond tired of this town and its people. She was bored with the same cookie cutter white guys that all drank habitually, worked the same bullshit deadend jobs, and sucked at sex.
Not even 2 minutes later, she heard another car approaching, but this one seemed… different. Blaring bass-heavy rap music, she could feel the beats in her soul. She turned her head and saw a red Cadillac with shining white rims, windows rolled down, and two darker gentlemen glaring her way.
The car slowed to a stop, but the music stayed on. She covered her ears but couldn’t look away. Something inside her felt… different.
“Sup girl. You tryna rage?”
She felt like a deer in the headlights. Stephanie knew they were asking her if she wanted to party, but couldn’t speak. Her eyes were wide open, legs shaking, and dopamine was rushing into her brain.
“You trying to party?” they repeated in a more, “melanin-challenged manner.”
“Uh, yeah, sure, what time?”
“Hop in.”
Steph didn’t know what to do. If her dad knew that she got into a car with complete strangers, African Americans to boot, he’d kill her. But everything in her body was telling her to do it. She couldn’t quite explain it, but she knew that she was meant to do this. This was part of her story.
But what if they’re kidnappers? On the news last night, a young white girl was abducted just a few counties over. What if they were murderers? Thieves? No one would ever find her again.
At last, she came to a decision.
“Okay.”
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