CHAPTER ONE - MIDNIGHT CREEPER

                         More than 27,000 obstetricians live in the United States. I was beginning to think I'd have to visit every last one before I'd find what I was looking for, but it was easy. Just walk into the office, find a chair, and then watch from behind my book while the young mothers-to-be paraded before me. Receptionists always think they're "too busy", and if anyone else should ask, "I'm waiting for the Missus. I expect she'll be through any minute." Occasionally I'd spot an interesting prospect. A sweet young face, no more than twenty years old. A shapely figure that would soon return to it's former glory. Long sensuous legs. Breasts swelling with milk. But this one wouldn't allow the necessary time to complete the research involved, and that one was no more than four months along. Perhaps I'd find a better candidate by then.

                         Always some imperfection, some little detail deterred me. "Perhaps", I thought, "I lack the courage to perform the task." Then I would tell myself, "No, there's no reason to settle for less than perfection. The reward will justify patience, and the hunt has pleasures of it's own!" I was beginning to get a little bored though. Do all these doctors use the same damned decorator for crying out loud? And always the same months old magazines. No need to compete for customers. And why do they always keep you waiting even if nobody else is there? In this case, just some Mexican woman with five kids. Almost forty, she definitely wasn't what I had in mind. She and her brood had been the only life forms in the place for almost the whole hour I was there. No point in fishing in a dry hole, I won't be coming back here! As I got up, the brown vinyl chair made its usual rude noise. Was this someone's idea of a joke? I was too hungry to care. I had skipped breakfast, and being close to eleven o'clock my stomach twisted and growled its displeasure with me. I'd have to grab something on the way home.

                         I had padded my way across the coffee and child stained carpet and twisted the knob to leave, when the door nearly hurled me from it's path either from the cold wind that wafted in from the hall or the impatient person on the other side. "Oh, I'm sorry," came a voice from inside the parka hood, which peeled back to reveal a lovely young girl. Tossing her schoolbooks into the nearest chair, she stripped off her coat muttering something about the weather, nothing unusual for October. What was unusual was the girl herself. There was something incongruous about her appearance, something not quite right. I studied her cautiously as I filled a cup from the coffeepot that sat in the receptionist's window. Black, no sugar. At the risk of sounding clichéd, what was a nice girl like her doing in a place like this? Not that she was pregnant at such a young age. That joy reaches across all classes. But why wasn't she at a more upscale establishment? She was just a little too pretty to be here. Classy, somehow. Usually a girl like this would have a beautiful mother and a rich father to support them. She couldn't have been a minute over seventeen. Her long, silky hair cascaded down the back of her brightly colored maternity top, nearly reaching her ass. Despite the well-developed pouch in front of her, her ass hadn't lost its shape at all. She was in fact, just a tiny bit too slender for my taste, despite the large full breasts, which rested on her swollen tummy. The strawberry blond tint of her hair combined with her freckles to give her an almost country-girl appearance. Kind of a Charlene Tilton type, without quite so many curves.

                         "Must be your first," I smiled. "And last," she laughed back. Ancient Greeks professed that you can tell the gender of a fetus by the presence of freckles on the mother's forehead. If it's freckles, it's a boy. Old women claim they can tell if the child will be a girl or a boy depending on how the mother carries it. I put my faith in ultra-sound. Even at that, there can still be surprises if the baby is turned the wrong way and the doctor's impatient. "We're expecting our fourth," I lied, then putting out my hand, "I'm Mike Lords, nice to meet you..." "Tina Bradley. Your fourth, huh?" She took my hand in hers, holding rather than shaking it. She was making this easy.

                         "Two girls and a boy. I'm hoping for another boy. How about you?"

                         "Mine's a girl," she said proudly.

                         "A bit soon to tell, isn't it?"

                         "Seven months. They thought it might be twins! Doc wouldn't tell me until last time, but I knew it was a girl. No twins, thank God!"

                         She was further along than I thought. She'd easily loose the few pounds she'd gained, once the baby was born, a baby girl. I tried to stay calm and casual but sitting so close to her, I couldn't help but notice the peach fragrance of her shampoo. Combined with the scent of the Coty Wild Musk she wore, her aroma was intoxicating.

                         "Here, let me help you with that," she said as one of the Mexican children nearly toppled the water cooler, trying to get a drink. She filled the tiny cup, which the child proceeded to dribble down his shirt. Tina had a natural affinity for children. They took to her like thieves take to shopping malls, and before long they were crawling all over her. She obviously loved it. She was, it turned out, a volunteer reading teacher at her church. She worked with adults as well, but it was the children who took her heart. All too soon, the receptionist appeared to lead Tina away. I suspect the doctor may have been a little hot for her too, she hadn't been kept waiting like the Mexican. I waited a few minutes after she went back then slipped out the door.

                          Following someone is a lot harder than they make it look on TV. For example, there were four ways Tina could leave the building, but by parking across the street I could directly watch two of the ground floor exits, as well as the driveway from the basement garage. That gave me three to one odds. The doctor took his sweet time with the examination, but eventually Tina came out the main door and walked to the corner bus stop. The bus came a few short seconds before the meter maid arrived to chase me out of the no parking zone. From a safe distance, I followed the bus through several turns until Tina finally emerged, then disappeared into the high school.

                         So I had a target, a name, and I knew where she went to school. There were still a lot of questions to answer before I would know for sure if she was the one. Most important was the genetics of the baby's father. Sure, mama was a sweet little thing, but what if the baby took after her daddy? I also had to know all of Tina's habits. Where did she go? Where was the safest place to abduct her? Fortunately, I had almost two months to find these things out. I also had access to the student directory thanks to my local library.

                         Ah, America. Home of the brave, land of the free. It's remarkable what you can buy in this country. Things you have no legitimate purpose owning. For example, the bugging device that allows you to dial up any telephone and then record any calls in or out, without even having to enter the remote location. I simply punched in the seven digits from the directory, waited for someone to pick up the phone, and waited a moment for that person to hang up, and BOOM! I was in. From that point on the voice activated recorder would kick on any time they picked up the phone. And best of all, with a simple flick of the on/off button I'd be back out with no trace that I had ever been there. There was a tremendous amount of tape to wade through what with two teen aged daughters in the home, but oh the things I learned.

                         "Please Donna", said one tape, "don't go out with Jimmy Lee. I don't want him doing to you what he did to me!" "Oh, you're just jealous! I'll go out with him if I want to. It's not like you were going steady with him. You only went out twice! And besides, everybody knows he's not the one who knocked you up. I don't know why you're trying to get him in trouble. Why don't you just admit it was Billy Clay that you slept with." "But it wasn't! Billy and I never..." "Oh I'm sure the minister's son got you pregnant," Donna sneered. "You're just making it worse Tina. Nobody's going to believe that the captain of the football team is the father of your baby. Why don't you just pretend it was aliens? Jimmy Lee's much too nice a boy to do something like that!" "I though you at least would believe me, Donna. We've been best friends since eighth grade. I just don't want to see you get hurt." "I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself, Tina! But if you don't quit saying these things about Jimmy, I'm NOT going to be your friend anymore!" "Why would I lie to you Donna? Why doesn't anybody believe me?" Oh, but I believed her, especially after the repeated calls to Jimmy Lee's house. Despite his admissions to being the father, he flatly refused to take any responsibility for the baby.

                         "It's not like you're the first girl who's had my kid, Tina," he told her. "I tried to tell you, I got two or three more rug rats someplace. It goes with the territory. Football heroes are supposed to get girls pregnant. Hell, my dad said so and he's a minister!" "But Jimmy, I didn't want to do it! You made me do those things. Can't you just help a little? Your family is so well off..." "Hey, leave my family out of it! I think maybe you'd better not call here anymore, Tina."

                          Yeah, Jimmy Lee was an ass hole, but the important thing was, he came from a real pretty family. His thirteen-year old sister almost made me forget what I was trying to accomplish. Almost! She was hard to walk away from, after listening to her masturbating, occasionally peeking in through the bathroom door. Surely she didn't put that brush back in her hair! Tina's family however, wasn't so well adjusted. Her father had been sent to jail two years earlier, regarding some funds that were missing from his corporation. The stockholders were none too happy with him. Mrs. Bradley, unable to satisfy her needs with the occasional conjugal visit, spent most of her nights at bars, and in the arms of strangers. On those rare occasions when she was home she was so intoxicated she'd probably help carry her daughter to my car. Assuming she could walk. The only other person in the house was Tina's younger sister, Tracy. Although she was only fourteen, she had the body of a twenty-year old. Her tits were even bigger than Tina's, her body softer and rounder, but the family resemblance was uncanny. She was drop dead gorgeous, in a very slutty way, and apparently, she was willing to share. Like her sister, she was pregnant, about five months worth. This deal was getting better and better. Best to wait a few weeks and cover my tracks.

                          Convincing the authorities that two teenage girls, whose father was in prison, whose mother was an alcoholic slut, and who were both pregnant, had run away from home, would not be hard at all. In a way, I supposed, I was doing them a favor! I chose a cloudy night, just before a freezing rainstorm. Mrs. Bradley had stayed out again, and Tina had just had a fight with little Tracy. They'd slammed the doors to their rooms, and neither would notice a little banging around in the other's bedroom. I picked Tina first. Being a little further along in her pregnancy, I thought she would put up less of a fight. Entering through the sliding door from the back patio I crept down the hallway, as I had on several previous occasions. Once I opened the door to Tina's room there could be no turning back.

                           I took a few deep breaths before the butter knife attacked the spring lock on her door. Her cheap little stereo covered the noise, and it wasn't until her eyes met my reflection in her dressing table mirror that a look of fear and surprise came over her. She was beautiful. I had caught her changing, and she covered her breasts with her arms, but before she could scream I was on her. I clamped one hand over her mouth, and dropping the gym bag I was carrying, I pulled her back onto the bed with my other hand around her waist. I couldn't resist the opportunity to play with the breasts I had been admiring for the past three weeks, and when I pinched her nipples she let out a frightened yet passionate moan. But where was the milk I was expecting? After the initial struggle Tina apparently resolved herself to her fate. I held her trembling body closely for a minute before reaching into my bag and pulling out a knife. Holding the six-inch blade to her throat, I told her that I didn't want to hurt her, but if she dared to make a sound I would have to kill her and her sister too! She nodded her understanding and I took my hand away from her mouth with a final warning. "Shut your eyes, bitch, and don't you dare open them", I whispered hoarsely. After watching several moments to make sure she'd comply, I put the knife back into the bag and brought out a four-inch long, fat rubber penis. "Keep your eyes shut tight, God damn it; now open your fucking mouth!" Feeling the tip of the rubber cock against her lips, she must have thought I was going to rape her mouth and opened to comply. I shoved it in to the balls. Tina opened her eyes and gagged a little, as the dildo entered her throat. It wasn't long enough to choke her, but would keep her quiet while I prepared her.

                          "Stop that God damn struggling, or I'll cut that baby out of you and make you watch it die!" This was completely against my intentions but she did stop fighting me. "Since you can't keep your eyes closed, I'm going to have to blindfold you." I reached into the bag and brought out a black leather strap, which I tightened harshly over her eyes. "I'm just going to have a little fun, but we can't have you struggling, now can we?" I fastened her hands behind her back with a pair of handcuffs. Reaching into the bag again, I took out a black leather hood, which shut out any remaining light and covered her head completely except for two little holes where her nostrils were. I zipped the hood down the back of her head careful not to catch her hair, then inserted the breathing tubes deeply into her nostrils before fastening the strap so she couldn't work her jaw. I tied her, legs spread open, face down, to the bedposts using soft strong cords. I then removed the handcuffs to allow for the single leather glove, which zipped over both arms past the elbows, then looped around her neck to prevent removal. I looped a cord between the headboard and the metal ring on top of her helmet, then satisfied that she could neither go anywhere nor even make a sound, I left her to ponder her situation and went to play with little Tracy a while.

                         I had to work fast as I didn't know if Mrs. Bradley would be coming home with another of her 'studs for the evening' as she had called them on one tape. On one of my previous trips to the Bradley home I had broken the lock on Tracy's door. It offered no resistance as I barged into her room.

                          "What is it," Tracy demanded before seeing who was there. Once she saw me her face went white as a ghost. The coat, gloves, and mask, all in black leather, left no doubt of my evil wishes.

                           "Trick or treat, slut," I said as I leaped to muffle a scream with the short terry cloth robe she had left hanging on the chair beside the bed she was in. I saw tears well up in her pretty green eyes. I would have taken her then and there if I wasn't concerned about the time this was taking. She didn't even put up a fight, only tearfully saying, "Oh no, not again!" Had she been raped before? Was that how she had gotten pregnant? I really didn't care, so long as she cooperated. I took the last two items from my bag, first a rubber shower cap, which I fitted over her head. Then the silver duct tape, which I wrapped around her head, several times across her eyes and mouth, using the shower cap to keep her hair from sticking. Her wrists and legs came next. She never even tried to stop me. I tied her wrists to the headboard with the belt from her robe, then ran out to the van. Being after midnight, I saw no signs of life so I quickly backed the van into the driveway. I opened the back doors, then opened the lid to one of the two metal boxes. Each box was three feet by four, about two and a half feet high. I had found them at a thrift shop paying a bit too much, but with the addition of a little foam rubber to muffle any sounds, and a few breathing holes, they suited the purpose.

                            I returned to Tracy's room, removed her wrists from the headboard, then carried her out to the van and forced her into one of the boxes. She looked cramped and miserable. She could barely move and that excited me. I forced her head down as I lowered the lid and fit the padlock into the hasp I'd installed. When I returned for Tina, I found her struggling against her bonds. She was pulling roughly against the head cord with her neck muscles, so fiercely I was surprised she hadn't broken her neck. One of her feet had gotten loose, and her ankles were raw from rope burns. "Be careful of the baby, Tina", I said trying to calm her. She was full of spirit, and I knew then that she would be the wildcat of the two, once I had her properly trained. Once she calmed down a little, I just walked her blindly to the van and forced her into her box. I closed the lid and locked it, then closed the back door to the van, climbed into the seat and pulled out of the driveway. I didn't want the van spotted at the house so I parked across the street then dashed back into the house for the last details. Three weeks of careful observation had revealed which of their clothes to take. I took their favorites, and a few of mine. I went heavy on the socks and bras and panties, since that's mostly what they'd be wearing from now on. Also a few of the private school uniforms; I love plaid skirts.

                             I took a few pairs of shoes, even though I planned to throw most of them out and just keep the ones with the high heels. I took suitcases, make up, perfumes, and the things I thought they would want. I took two formal dresses from their mother's closet and a bottle of perfume from her dresser because I liked the brand. And I took the vibrator that somehow seemed to wander from their mother's nightstand to Tina's panty drawer, then back again. Once I had found it under Tracy's bed, still moist and fragrant from use.

                          I  took out the page I had carefully removed from Tracy's diary. It said, "I hate it here. Daddy's in jail. My mom act's like a whore, and I just want to go anywhere. Tina says so too!" The reverse simply, "I guess mom's never coming home"

                          I left that on the coffee table and closed the door for the last time. I hurried back to the van and threw the bags in the back, covering them with a blanket as an afterthought. A quick glance at the clock on the dash showed that it was seven and one half minutes since I'd arrived at the house; not bad. I keyed the ignition, pulled on the headlights, and pulled away from the curb. Half a block down the street I saw Mrs. Bradley's car turn the corner just a bit too wide, weaving twice in the lane before I passed her. "Bye, and thanks for everything!" Six more blocks, and then the highway.

                          I'm driving very carefully, observing all the signs, and going just a hair over the speed limit; not enough to get pulled over, just enough to appear normal. I'm getting close to my turn off, and I check my rear view mirror, and I see this Highway Patrol car sitting on my tail like he's waiting for me to get nervous and do something so he can pull me over. "Oh, Shit!" Doubly careful now, I'm wondering why he can't find something useful to do when he flips his lights on. "Fuck! What the hell does he want?"

                          I checked all my taillights and everything just tonight. That can't be the problem. Did somebody see something back at the house? "Calm down, calm down, oh shit!" I feel around for the semi-automatic I keep under the seat. It's a .32, flat black, no bigger than my palm. I pull the action back getting it ready, just in case because I'm NOT going back to prison! Signal, pull over, and stay calm I tell myself. This is taking forever! What's he doing? He must be calling in my plates! Finally, in my side mirror I see his door open. He's getting out of his patrol car. He's a big son of a bitch! Why is he unsnapping his holster? He's heading behind his car, what the fuck? Oh, I see: he doesn't want me backing up and crushing him between the vehicles. He's at the passenger window. I hit the switch and the window comes down. "Like to see your license and registration, sir. Won't be a minute and you'll be on your way!"

                          "Is there a problem Officer? I thought I was keeping my speed down pretty good!" "Well, you were going just a bit fast through here but that's not why I stopped you. Did you know the bulb is burned out on your license plate?" "I guess I didn't pay much attention to it, to be honest with you! Are you going to give me a ticket?" Hell, I know that bulb is out. I disconnected it just two hours ago. I didn't want any one to read the plate while I was in front of the Bradley house. I wasn't planning on Duddley Dooright here pulling me over. "Have you had anything to drink tonight, sir?" "No sir!" I hadn't but even if I had I sure as hell wouldn't tell him. He knew it too. "It's getting kinda late. Where're you off to?" Why does he want to stand here playing twenty questions? "Just coming back from my friend's house. We rented a movie." "Must have been some movie. You look a little ill. Do you feel ok?" "I will as soon as you get the fuck out of here," I didn't say. "Yeah, I'm all right. Maybe that film got me a little shook up, that's all." He's right though. My face must be as white as a sheet. My heart is pumping so fucking fast I can actually hear my pulse and... Oh God... I hear... a very faint, kind of, scratching sound coming from the back of the van.

                           "Ok sir. I'm just going to run this through DMV. If it comes back clean I'll let you off with a warning." He's heading back to the patrol car. Well, that's some comfort any way, not much. But what was that scratching? Those boxes are padded. BUT NOT ENOUGH! I heard a whine. It's dark back there but I don't dare turn on the light. What's taking him so long? I can't breath... "By the way, I noticed you weren't wearing your seat belt. You know a lot of people get hurt every year, blah, blah, blah, blah..."

                          I can't breath. I can't breath, because there's a scratching sound coming from the back and that fucking whining is getting louder and louder. How can he not hear it? Why doesn't he give me my license back and let me out of here? He's stalling me! He's waiting for back up! Where's that gun? Where's... here! Hey get that flashlight out of here! "What was that noise? What have you got back there?" Watch his hand... what was that movement in the back... Dear God! Eyes glowing in the flashlight beam... OK, you Mother Fucker... When the head came up I let out a loud scream. I closed my eyes to shut out the horror of it, dropping the gun back under the seat where it made a loud clatter which I drowned out with another scream, then another... "Hey buddy..." the cop was saying... "Hey, calm down! It's just a puppy!" "A what," I asked waiting for the bullet I was sure was about to rip through my skull.

                         "A puppy! Hey fellow... He's cute too! What's he have, some collie in him? What are you so shook up about? That must have been some movie!" "Yeah! Cujo! I guess I just forgot Skipper was back there. It's getting late..." I'm fucked, I'm fucked! "What's in the boxes?" "Oh, um... I'm going to make speaker cabinets out of them," and if you like that one I've got some real estate five miles West of Malibu that you're just going to love! It's right on the water, and I mean right on the-

                          It was the sounds of squealing tires and a racing engine that caught him short. A car weaving all over the road nearly striking the police cruiser as it passed... Oh, Mrs. Bradley, could it be you? Oh, you have come to help after all!

                         He went for the new car. You just got zonked pal. I drove off thinking

my heart was going to explode. Then it started to rain.