Conception and Constipation

The round, shapely, healthy butt of Teah Jones was bulging from behind her black and white striped body-contour dress. The horizontal stripes were thin, making the dress look more white than black and flattered her curvy figure from the front scoop neckline to the three-quarter sleeves that stopped below her elbows.

The midi-length hem of the stretch knit dress was just above her knees, which was uncommon for Teah who usually wore little black dresses cut higher.

Teah's silky, black hair was straightened, chemically treated with a salon-fresh perm and cut into a long, A-line bob that made her look glamorous.

Teah's legs were unbelievably smooth, shaven with care and treated with premium skin lotion from a spa.

Her French manicure was black with white tips.

Same for her pedicure, which she showed off in her black, lace-up platform heels. Velvety suede covered peep-toe uppers above the toe platforms, ankle bands and the heel supports. Cushioned insoles of the lace-up vamps made Teah's feet look and feel heavenly.

Teah balanced herself while walking on the sturdy, 4 inch wrapped, block heels, loving the cuteness of the tie-up laces across the tops of her feet.

Teah's husband Hancebridge Jones dropped her off at an industry party meet & greet so that she could seek potential agents to further her modeling career.

Hance worshiped Teah and the ground her fetish-worthy feet walked on. He worked as a city contractor and he gave Teah a monthly allowance of $1,500.

Teah's only real job as a housewife was to keep up on the bills, prepare meals, and fuck her husband.

Between paying their bills, cooking their food, and getting her brains banged out, Teah was often relieving herself, usually with Hance recording it.

It was a dark secret Teah and Hance shared, which she only agreed to hoping she could make money off of the royalty payments that her scat clips generated.

Videos sold online were totally anonymous; Teah never showed her face, though her body could be easily recognized by her inverted heart-shaped booty.

At the industry party, Teah was openly identified by that incredible ass of hers. Men gawked at her as she walked, stood, and danced when music played.

Teah danced in her heels, gyrating her body, never even thinking about blisters or soreness on her feet.

All she was concerned about was the occasional gas that she released while she moved about. Whenever she felt an air pocket in her nether region, she would nest near a group of people, let it rip, and walk away leaving them to wonder who among them dealt it.

Teah got a kick out of covert farting in public.

Of all of Teah's mingling, not a single agent took serious interest in her career.

The agents and managers Teah did talk to all had similar interests in Teah's body and the inner workings of it, namely her sexual reproductive organs.

Teah had run out of steam and went to the bar.

She felt for cash in her bosom, remembering that she had twenties stuffed under her left breast.

A businessman in a black Chinese tunic suit had been watching Teah all night, waiting for his chance to approach her. He made his move while she sipped on her drink through a straw. She sat her glass down on a napkin and ripped a mild belch.

"One Manhattan," said the businessman.

While the bartender grabbed for the Vermouth and Bourbon bottles, the businessman was checking out how Teah's ass poked out, her body shaped like the lower half of the number 2 on the bar stool.

He noticed Teah's glass empty.

"And another of whatever this lady had," said the businessman to the bartender.

Teah pushed her glass toward the bartender.

"Screwdriver."

The businessman was worried, because Teah didn't look in his direction yet. He licked his lips to moisten them if they were dry. He thought about what he was going to say to Teah, but figured he'd just wing it.

"Looking for an agent?" he asked her.

Teah turned her head halfway to him.

"You an agent?" she held her drink.

"Yes," he said, and sipped his drink.

"What agency do you represent?" Teah asked.

"Truffa Management. I'm Randy Hawker."

"True-fuh? Never heard of it."

"We're a fairly new talent agency. We have offices in New York, Atlanta, and L.A."

Teah gulped her drink down and raised her glass.

"Bartender, another Screwdriver for the lady."

Randy sat next to Teah holding his drink.

Teah quickly glanced down at Randy's shoes.

Leather ankle boots, Teah thought. Help him, Lord.

"So, are you trying to get repped, or not?"

Teah took her drink and turned on her bar stool, her bald knees pointed directly at him.

"Let me make one thing clear, Randy. Every rep in this place promised to take me as a client and not one of them gave me so much as a fucking business card."

Randy showed Teah his business card.

Teah took the glossy black and grey business card with Truffa Management and the company logo on it.

"I'm not the other reps, baby girl."

"My name is Teah," she told him.

Randy cocked his head to the side and grinned.

"Wait. You're not Teah Saunders, are you?"

"Saunders is my maiden name."

"It's me," he exclaimed. "Candy Randy! I came to your 18th birthday party at your house! Your mother Rhonda told everybody you were constipated."

Teah smiled, but only because she was a bit buzzed.

"Randle D. Hawker," Teah said, recalling the name from her high school yearbook. "You and your friends used to call me balloon butt on the school bus."

Randy noticed the gap in Teah's front teeth.

"We called you Baby Got Gap too."

Teah laughed and nodded.

"You used to take candy from your father's corner store and sell it to your friends. You were always trying to get money from people, Candy Randy."

Randy told her, "I've made well over six figures in this industry, and now I'm ready to take it to the next level." He looked around. "Is there someplace private where we can chat?"

Teah grinned and put her glass down.

"Yes. I know a place."

Teah and Randy were on a double-deck balcony, in the right corner near outdoor furniture. Below was a driveway from the parking lot in the back to the street.

Teah spoke with Randy about her current status as a bored housewife as well as her hopes and dreams, but she never once mentioned her husband Hance.

Randy decided to make his move on Teah, but she politely declined, reminding him that she was married.

Randy wanted to fuck Teah so badly. He didn't want to walk away empty-handed, though.

Cars passed below the balcony as Randy kicked the best game he could. But, Teah's thong wasn't coming down anytime soon. Then, Randy stopped. He was going about it all wrong. Dizty, airhead Teah just told him everything he needed to get under her clothes.

"I can make you a model," he said.

"Can you get me real work?" she asked.

"New York, Atlanta, and L.A."

"How much?" she asked.

"Twelve hundred for a professional portfolio."

Teah reached into her bosom and handed Randy some folded dollar bills. Randy quickly counted cash.

"Where's the rest?" he asked.

"You get the other six hundred when I sign on."

"You don't trust me?"

"You're Candy Randy. Of course I don't."

Randy put the money into his suit pocket.

"Teah, can I ask you something?"

"No, you can't fuck me."

"Not that," Randy said. "I always thought you had an amazing body. Even back in high school when we called you balloon butt and Birmingham bubbles."

"You called me yampy too," Teah told him.

"I remember that day when your mom said that you were constipated. Was it true, or just a joke?"

Teah checked the driveway below for pedestrians.

"It was 100% true. She did that to embarrass me, because I removed her from our joint bank account."

"So, you couldn't go to the bathroom?"

"Why are you asking me this, Randy?"

Teah studied his clean shaven face, his steady eyes.

Randy was about to ask Teah something perverted, but it was nothing new to her. So, she waited for it...

"Can I see your booty hole?"

"Oh my God," Teah said.

"I used to dream about you in high school. Now, here you are, fully grown, looking fly in that dress."

Teah thought she heard a car idling below.

I know this guy from school, Teah thought. He's going to rep me and he's the only talent manager to give me his card.

Teah noticed a visible bump in his pants.

Poor freak is about to pop, she thought. If I show him my asshole, he'll probably go home a jerk off. He'll be worshipping me like all the rest of these sorry fuckers. So, why the fuck not?

"You wanna see my booty hole?" Teah asked.

"Oh yes," Randy answered.

"I'll show it to you. But, first. Am I divine?"

"You're a goddess," Randy beat her to it.

Teah smiled, turned her back to him and pulled up her dress. Randy nearly creamed in his pants when he saw her black thong swallowed up by her huge cheeks.

Teah got her dress up and around her waist before she opened her right cheek and pulled her thong aside.

Randy kneeled to look closely at what was between her buttocks. Her anus was bunched up, like a knotted balloon. Then, it slowly lowered and opened to the size of a dime. It was dark in her rectum.

Randy stared in awe at the tender booty hole he had dreamed about since that fateful day when Rhonda told everybody about Teah's fecal impaction.

Teah released a raspy fart that caused her anus to push out a little. Her vulva became moist between the flaps, causing her to quickly pull down her dress.

"Got a turd in there?" Randy asked desperately.

Teah faced Randy again. Before she could speak, a blaring car horn was heard below. She was about to cuss at whoever was down there, but she nearly fainted when she looked over the railing.

Looking up at her was her husband Hance.

Teah quickly moved away from the balcony railing, her heart hammering in her chest.

She went back inside, forgetting that Randy was on the balcony with her.

At the front entrance was Hance's black BMW.

Teah came out with Randy close behind.

"Teah, wait."

"Good night, Randy."

Randy tried to grab Teah's arm, but she opened the passenger side door to stop Randy from getting close.

"We need to talk about your modeling contract."

"I have to go."

Hance's angry voice said, "Get in the fucking car!"

Teah got down into the passenger side seat and the door shut, letting Randy see his own reflection in the tinned window before the luxury vehicle shot off.

Hance didn't say a single word to Teah the whole ride home. He talked on his cellular phone while Teah kept her head down or looked out the window.

Teah kept quiet, so she didn't have to walk the rest of the way (and so she'd have a place to sleep, if he'd let her stay after her little balcony flashing stunt).

When they got home, Hance got out of the car first.

Teah followed a few feet behind him. He unlocked the front door and left it open for her. Teah shut the front door and locked it. She was about to go to the bathroom, but Hance pointed her into the living room.

Teah sat on the sofa, knees and feet together, hands in her lap, tapered ends of her A-line bob hanging.

While Hance was in the kitchen, Teah undid laces on her platform heels and took her feet out of them.

The sound of Hance dropping his keys on the table made Teah flinch. He stood menacingly before her.

"You wanna explain yourself?" he asked her.

Teah's mouth was dry. Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her bladder was full. Her bowels were starting to push feces down into her rectum.

"I have to go to the bathroom," she said.

"You can hold it," Hance told her.

Hance sat down. Maybe it would calm her.

"So now you're flashing strangers at these agency parties I'm sending you to? Is that how it works?"

"He wasn't a stranger."

"Who was he?"

"Randy Hawker. We rode the same bus."

"You said he tormented you in high school, called you balloon butt and Baby Got Gap, and now you're comfortable showing your bare naked ass to him?!"

Teah couldn't look Hance in the face.

Hance stood up.

"Look, if you're going to start doing crazy shit like this, maybe we should just end this."

Teah looked up at Hance, eyes watery.

"It was a mistake. A stupid mistake."

"Teah, you are my wife. I don't give a damn how pretty you are, you belong to me. You can dress sexy if you like, but that ass stays covered in public."

"I was drunk," she told him.

"You got desperate," Hance said. "Nobody wanted to rep you, so you decided to play casting couch."

"I made a mistake. I'm sorry."

"Teah, you could've been raped."

"But, I wasn't."

"Did he buy you drinks?"

Teah looked down again.

"He could've slipped you a roofie."

"Hance, this is the 1990s. Nobody uses date rape drugs anymore."

Hance nodded.

"You're so naive. But, it's my fault. I haven't been keeping you busy. I've been fucking you crazy every chance I get, but you're still doing stupid shit."

"Are you going to leave me?" she asked.

Hance looked down at Teah's glossy toenails, her smooth legs, her wide hips, her tapered waist, her perky breast, and her manicured hands in her lap.

"I haven't decided yet."

Teah sobbed and got face down on the carpet.

"Please don't leave, Hance! I made a mistake!"

"Get up," he said.

Teah stood up and wiped her face. Hance reached into Teah's bosom and pulled out her loose cash.

"Where's the rest of it?" he asked her.

Teah didn't say. She was in enough trouble.

Hance dropped the money at her feet.

"My mom thought it would be a good idea if we got involved with the local church. Crusader of the Cross is sponsoring a couples retreat in a few weeks. I don't care if you like it or not, we're going. From now until then, you're going to be my goddamn servant. You're going to be a good wife and do whatever you're told."

"I'll do whatever you say," Teah replied.

"Good," Hance said. "Because, I'm three seconds away from ending this marriage. I'm not going to put up with this shit, Teah. I don't go around showing my dick to other women. You don't go around showing your ass to other men. Is that clear?"

"Very clear," she said.

"You are Mrs. Hancebridge Jones, and you are not divine. Your deity status is revoked, until you give me some act-right around here."

Hance noticed Teah wobbling below the waist.

"You can go to the bathroom now."

Teah left, farts popping from her bouncing ass as she went. Hance picked up the money he dropped.

The next few days were torment for Teah.

She didn't know if and when Hance would tell her to get out. But, she did everything she was told.

She even went job hunting to prove to him that she could bring a paycheck into the house.

She got hired as a data entry clerk at an employment agency. It was a part-time low-skilled position, but it would keep her busy. She dressed less provocatively in private and in public wearing leggings and a tunic shirt with flip flops. Teah transformed herself into a dutiful housewife who prepared her husband's meals and kept the house clean. Teah would still receive her $1,500 monthly allowance, but she wasn't allowed to go meet with modeling agents, unless somebody was with her.

Teah didn't forget about Candy Randy, though.

She kept Randy's business card in her jewelry box and called Truffa Management from her job to let them know her modeling contract would have to be put on hold. But, to her apprehension, Teah was told that no one by the name of Randy Hawker was affiliated with the agency and that they never heard of him.

Teah put the phone receiver down and stared at her computer screen, seeing her reflection in it when the Windows 95 star field screensaver came on.

Teah got up and left her cubicle. She went to the ladies room and cried on the toilet, while trying to have a bowel movement. She pushed, but nothing came out.

When her five hours was up, Teah went for a walk to the nearby plaza to a supermarket that sold liquor.

She bought a 3 ounce bottle of cinnamon whiskey and a 16 ounce bottle of chilled iced tea. She mixed Fireball with Snapple in her reusable sports bottle.

Teah sat on a bench in the park, not far from the plaza and sipped on the whiskey and tea mixture, until the urge to cry was replaced with a slight buzz.

She watched people walk by her, but she paid close attention to a young couple with a child.

The mother stopped the stroller near the bench while her husband took time to chat with another man down the sidewalk. Teah looked upon the infant with glassy eyes; she smiled for the first time all day.

"How are you?" asked the young mother, sitting on the bench, giving her child a bottle.

Teah quickly put the lid on her sports bottle.

"Just got off work. I was just chillin' here."

"I won't be here long," said the mother.

"It's okay. I could use some company."

The young mother, African-American, took note of Teah's ID badge around her neck.

"You work at job services?"

Teah removed her ID badge.

"Not for long."

"I worked there too," said the mother. "They only hire part-time when they need to get up to speed, then they let me go, even after they said my position would transition into full-time employment."

The mother put the baby back into the stroller.

"You okay?"

"I got scammed out of $600 by a huckster posing as a modeling agent. I feel so stupid."

"The best model you can be is a role model."

Teah looked at the mother, then at the infant.

"I feel like I'm nothing. I can't sing, dance, or keep myself together. I need a purpose in life."

"You married?" asked the mother.

"Yes. My husband is a city contractor."

"My husband owns a construction company. We're both wives who are well taken care of. You don't need to sit around here moping. You need to start a family."

Teah felt tears welling up and gasped. She thought of Hance on top of her, his pelvic region hammering away between her thighs, her legs coiled around him.

"I love my man. He takes me to heaven every time he kisses me. I need to have his baby or something."

The mother got up and readied the stroller.

"Don't punish yourself. You deserve more. I hope that you find happiness. Have a good day."

Teah finished her period on a Friday night and she was super sensitive down there. She had a turd inside of her that felt like lava rocks for a charbroiler.

Teah stared at Hance all day Saturday while they did their errands. That evening, Hance barbecued for them and they ate on the patio behind the house.

Teah ate like a bird while Hance devoured smoke-flavored meat, licking barbeque sauce from his fingers.

"They're letting me go next week," Teah said.

"The temp agency will find you another gig."

Teah pushed her food away. She looked at the Tiki torches on the deck and at the opened gas grill. She felt for her flip flops and got her feet into them. She took Hance's plate and went into the house.

Hance followed her into the kitchen. Teah was at the sink in her beige, scoop-neck, racer-back ribbed maxi dress with 1 inch shoulder straps.

He got behind her and looked at the back of her neck, and then down the topstitched vertical back seam all the way to her big butt that looked like watermelon halves protruding behind the ribbed fabric.

"Hey," he softly whispered to her.

Teah felt his lips on her neck and shut her eyes.

I need to have this man's baby, she thought.

Hance reached around and cupped to her clothed breasts as she placed her hands on top of his.

Teah turned to Hance with tears in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked her.

"Let me be the mother of your children."

"You already are the mother of my children."

That was all the confirmation that Teah needed.

Hance lifted up Teah's maxi dress until the ankle length spring wear was gathered at her waist while she quickly undid his pants. Hance placed Teah on the countertop, kissing her. Teah's flip flops fell from her pedicured feet as her legs coiled around him.