I realized that this story I wrote a while ago fits here nicely as well, some light sci-fi elements leads to a new kind of job where young women cater to the needs of the very wealthy; enjoy!
An emergency callout, funny how often it was an emergency for these people wasn’t it? Well Marcella didn’t mind, emergency rates meant more money for her for basically the same amount of work. Right now she was riding her bicycle towards Palm Heights, one of the more affluent districts in the town where she lived to meet with a client. To have her baby. Well not entirely true. She wasn’t going to have the baby. Just hold onto it for a while.
Marcella did work as a pregnancy sitter. Which was a lot like a babysitter, except that she would be sitting before the baby was born. Which meant that for an evening, or a day, or in some rarer cases a weekend or a whole week, she’d be pregnant while the real mother would be off doing, well whatever. Enjoying a party, going on a quick trip. Or whatever other thing rich people would be doing. It was a fairly new profession, and one of the few that weren’t completely automated yet, apparently building an artificial womb small enough to fit on the back of a van or truck was too expensive to make it cost-effective. So young women like Marcella were hired to provide those wombs, at quite generous rates.
Marcella checked her phone to be sure she was at the right place before she got her small utility bag from her saddlebags and rang the doorbell. Which soon opened on it’s own accord, swinging on silent hinges. Almost immediately a voice rang from the home theatre system, coming in a southern drawl that sounded like it could have come from a movie. That is to say, over the top and incredibly fake.
“Marcy dear? Oh I am thrilled that you’re finally here darlin’! Come schoot upstairs. I’m running late as it is and I don’t want to keep everyone waitin’.”
That was of course the second thing that you learned when you dealt with these wealthy people, they tended to cultivate eccentricities. And the current fad were accents. “Maybe,” Marcella thought “I should be offended. But honestly, why should I be?”
She shouldered the bag and went upstairs where she met the client in the corridor. Mrs Mullany was a tall woman, nearly 2 meters tall, her hair dyed red like the shade of autumn leaves, put up in some kind of elaborate netting that made it look like it were flames frozen in a moment in time. She was wearing a bathrobe made to resemble a kimono or something. Behind her Marcella could see a very elaborate dress waiting for the lady, one that would definitely not fit around the woman’s swollen middle. Marcella regarded the woman for only a moment before introducing herself properly. She had developed a bit of an eye for bellies, and she figured, with reasonable certainty that Mrs Mullany was about 36, maybe 37 weeks along. Information she’d use to set up the transfer.
“Good evening Mrs Mullany. I’m Marcella Coleman from the agency.” She said in her ‘polite to customers’ manner, which included a smile which barely touched her eyes.
“Ah yes splendid.” Mrs Mullany almost bellowed. Apparently she thought that the accent included the requirement to almost be shouting whenever she spoke. “Well like I said, I am running late. Shall we get this started?”
Marcella nodded still wearing her polite smile.
“Right away Mrs, have you done this before? The best place to do this is probably your bathroom.”
The lady nodded and preceded her in to the bathroom where Marcella quickly got to work with her little bag.
The bag contained quite a few things, but three of them were most important. The first were the transfer webs. She took off her shirt and put the first one of these around her own waist. It was thin and transparent, save for the lattice of small black dots on the material. Those were, according to her training, Marcella knew, a mix of sensors and transport field generators. The second item was much more mundane, a hose that would fit around nearly any tap. It had a small black cap on the other side, which was a larger but simpler version of the transport field, and it would be sending water into Marcella’s womb, homing in on a special implant that would create a temporary membrane to hold it. She first ran the water until it was up to a comfortable temperature before attaching the hose and turning on the third device, which was a small box in her bag which would arrange the transport. Her phone provided an interface and she started stage one. And as soon as she did she felt a little rush, and then the feeling of pressure. It would take about fifteen minutes for her to reach the required capacity. While she waited for this to happen she turned to Mrs Mulaney again.
“If you could please take off your bathrobe. I’ll help you with your web.” She said while she removed the second transfer web from it’s bag.
Mrs Mulaney complied and with practiced ease Marcella put the webbing around the woman’s belly, stretching the fabric and securing it around her bag. By the time she was done she could feel the swell in her own belly beginning to push against the web she was wearing, and she took a moment to adjust it a little before sitting down on the edge of the tub. It all in all took about fifteen minutes. Marcella’s belly slowly swelled out while she talked with Mrs Mulaney about little things, what she was going to be doing tonight. Turns out she was taking a suborbital to a party on the other side of the globe. Which was the reason why she had hired Marcella, the G-forces would not have been good for the baby.
And all the while Marcella’s belly slowly grew, from the slight paunchiness that made her look a little overweight, until she began to round out and she got that definite pregnant look. From there on she grew out, gently rubbing her middle as it swelled until she was as large as Mrs Mulaney, though because she was a bit shorter her belly looked bigger on her.
Her cell phone beeped as the transfer stopped. The sensors in the web had determined that she was large enough to take Mrs Mulaney’s baby without incident. Marcella needed to steady herself a little when she stood up.
“Okay Mrs Mulaney, It’s probably best if you go into the bath now before I start the transfer. The water bag tends to pop rather quickly afterwards. Or you can lift the lid and sit down on the toilet.”
Mrs Mulaney picked the latter and Marcella said the device to start the next phase. It hummed while it charged the capacitors and gave off a beep. Aside from a slight tingling, there was no indication that anything had happened. For about five seconds.
Then Mrs Mulaney’s belly popped, so to speak and the water that had previously flowed so slowly in to Marcella’s womb rushed out of Mrs Mulaney’s, her belly quickly shrinking and flattening until it all stopped.
And just like that, Marcella was now expecting a baby. Mrs Mulaney was free to get to her shuttle and have as much fun as she liked until it was time for her to take her baby back.
An emergency callout, funny how often it was an emergency for these people wasn’t it? Well Marcella didn’t mind, emergency rates meant more money for her for basically the same amount of work. Right now she was riding her bicycle towards Palm Heights, one of the more affluent districts in the town where she lived to meet with a client. To have her baby. Well not entirely true. She wasn’t going to have the baby. Just hold onto it for a while.
Marcella did work as a pregnancy sitter. Which was a lot like a babysitter, except that she would be sitting before the baby was born. Which meant that for an evening, or a day, or in some rarer cases a weekend or a whole week, she’d be pregnant while the real mother would be off doing, well whatever. Enjoying a party, going on a quick trip. Or whatever other thing rich people would be doing. It was a fairly new profession, and one of the few that weren’t completely automated yet, apparently building an artificial womb small enough to fit on the back of a van or truck was too expensive to make it cost-effective. So young women like Marcella were hired to provide those wombs, at quite generous rates.
Marcella checked her phone to be sure she was at the right place before she got her small utility bag from her saddlebags and rang the doorbell. Which soon opened on it’s own accord, swinging on silent hinges. Almost immediately a voice rang from the home theatre system, coming in a southern drawl that sounded like it could have come from a movie. That is to say, over the top and incredibly fake.
“Marcy dear? Oh I am thrilled that you’re finally here darlin’! Come schoot upstairs. I’m running late as it is and I don’t want to keep everyone waitin’.”
That was of course the second thing that you learned when you dealt with these wealthy people, they tended to cultivate eccentricities. And the current fad were accents. “Maybe,” Marcella thought “I should be offended. But honestly, why should I be?”
She shouldered the bag and went upstairs where she met the client in the corridor. Mrs Mullany was a tall woman, nearly 2 meters tall, her hair dyed red like the shade of autumn leaves, put up in some kind of elaborate netting that made it look like it were flames frozen in a moment in time. She was wearing a bathrobe made to resemble a kimono or something. Behind her Marcella could see a very elaborate dress waiting for the lady, one that would definitely not fit around the woman’s swollen middle. Marcella regarded the woman for only a moment before introducing herself properly. She had developed a bit of an eye for bellies, and she figured, with reasonable certainty that Mrs Mullany was about 36, maybe 37 weeks along. Information she’d use to set up the transfer.
“Good evening Mrs Mullany. I’m Marcella Coleman from the agency.” She said in her ‘polite to customers’ manner, which included a smile which barely touched her eyes.
“Ah yes splendid.” Mrs Mullany almost bellowed. Apparently she thought that the accent included the requirement to almost be shouting whenever she spoke. “Well like I said, I am running late. Shall we get this started?”
Marcella nodded still wearing her polite smile.
“Right away Mrs, have you done this before? The best place to do this is probably your bathroom.”
The lady nodded and preceded her in to the bathroom where Marcella quickly got to work with her little bag.
The bag contained quite a few things, but three of them were most important. The first were the transfer webs. She took off her shirt and put the first one of these around her own waist. It was thin and transparent, save for the lattice of small black dots on the material. Those were, according to her training, Marcella knew, a mix of sensors and transport field generators. The second item was much more mundane, a hose that would fit around nearly any tap. It had a small black cap on the other side, which was a larger but simpler version of the transport field, and it would be sending water into Marcella’s womb, homing in on a special implant that would create a temporary membrane to hold it. She first ran the water until it was up to a comfortable temperature before attaching the hose and turning on the third device, which was a small box in her bag which would arrange the transport. Her phone provided an interface and she started stage one. And as soon as she did she felt a little rush, and then the feeling of pressure. It would take about fifteen minutes for her to reach the required capacity. While she waited for this to happen she turned to Mrs Mulaney again.
“If you could please take off your bathrobe. I’ll help you with your web.” She said while she removed the second transfer web from it’s bag.
Mrs Mulaney complied and with practiced ease Marcella put the webbing around the woman’s belly, stretching the fabric and securing it around her bag. By the time she was done she could feel the swell in her own belly beginning to push against the web she was wearing, and she took a moment to adjust it a little before sitting down on the edge of the tub. It all in all took about fifteen minutes. Marcella’s belly slowly swelled out while she talked with Mrs Mulaney about little things, what she was going to be doing tonight. Turns out she was taking a suborbital to a party on the other side of the globe. Which was the reason why she had hired Marcella, the G-forces would not have been good for the baby.
And all the while Marcella’s belly slowly grew, from the slight paunchiness that made her look a little overweight, until she began to round out and she got that definite pregnant look. From there on she grew out, gently rubbing her middle as it swelled until she was as large as Mrs Mulaney, though because she was a bit shorter her belly looked bigger on her.
Her cell phone beeped as the transfer stopped. The sensors in the web had determined that she was large enough to take Mrs Mulaney’s baby without incident. Marcella needed to steady herself a little when she stood up.
“Okay Mrs Mulaney, It’s probably best if you go into the bath now before I start the transfer. The water bag tends to pop rather quickly afterwards. Or you can lift the lid and sit down on the toilet.”
Mrs Mulaney picked the latter and Marcella said the device to start the next phase. It hummed while it charged the capacitors and gave off a beep. Aside from a slight tingling, there was no indication that anything had happened. For about five seconds.
Then Mrs Mulaney’s belly popped, so to speak and the water that had previously flowed so slowly in to Marcella’s womb rushed out of Mrs Mulaney’s, her belly quickly shrinking and flattening until it all stopped.
And just like that, Marcella was now expecting a baby. Mrs Mulaney was free to get to her shuttle and have as much fun as she liked until it was time for her to take her baby back.
