(N/C, INCEST, PREG)

                                  The Bad Seed
                                  A True Story
                                Author: Unknown

      I should've realized what was going to happen, but I refused to see it. I
couldn't believe that such evil existed, and by denying it, I ruined the rest
of my life.  I can never forget what happened to me, no matter how much I might
wish to.

      It started back when we were teenagers -- my brother Billy and I.  Billy
and I were two of six kids, raised in your average family.  He was four years
older than I was, and for the most part ignored me -- except when I turned
thirteen.  I was the only girl in the family, and I've since read that it's
normal to see some sexual activity between siblings -- playing doctor and so
forth -- and that's pretty much what happened then.  He'd trap me in my room
and try to pull up my shirt so he could see my newly growing breasts, that sort
of thing.  Our other brothers did it too, but not nearly as much. It went on
for a while, until I finally complained to my mother -- and she made them stop.
I didn't think about it often, but every once in a while, in the years that
followed, I'd catch Billy looking at me with an odd gleam in his eye -- that
made me nervous.  But it had stopped, and once he went away to college, I more
or less forgot about it.

      Well, when I was 17 Billy got married to Shanda, a really nice girl. They
were both barely graduated from college, and it looked like they had a nice
life ahead of them.  Shanda came from a very wealthy family, and Billy started
working in her father's stockbroking firm, and quickly was promoted. Within
four years they had had a house, two nice cars, plenty of money -- everything
they could want.  Except a child.  I'll never forget the day that Billy came
over to the house and told us the doctors said Shanda could never have
children.  He was devestated.

      I felt really bad for him.  He and I had never been close, but over time
I'd stopped being mad at him for "fooling around" with me when I was younger.
I'd gotten a psych degree, and I knew that it wasn't that abnormal.  Plus, he'd
stopped being a bossy older brother, and had been really nice to me when I was
in college -- a couple times he sent me money just because -- said he knew I
was a starving college student.  And now, with the pain of Shanda's infertility
shadowing his life, I thought I could help him.  I was working in a bookstore
that summer, waiting to get into grad school, since a plain psych degree was
useless.  I began to spend a lot of time with Billy and Shanda, trying to help
them out.  I had a lot of free time on my hands, since my boyfriend Jeff was on
active duty in the Gulf.  We'd been seeing each other for almost two years, and
I was sure he was Mr. right.  He was as religious as I was, and we both didn't
believe in sex before marriage.  I knew I was lucky to have someone like that,
and I couldn't wait for him to come home at Christmas.  He'd been hinting
around that we'd maybe get engaged then, and I couldn't wait.

      And then... one hot July night I stopped over Billy's house to take him
some dinner.  Shanda had gone to Florida for the week to see her parents, and
Mom wanted to be sure Billy ate right, since he'd probably subsist off of chips
if no one was there to cook for him.  I walked in the house -- I had a key --
and there was Billy, lying on the couch wearing a tee shirt and boxers.  I put
down the casserole Mom had sent, and walked over to him -- he looked like he
was asleep.  The air conditioning made the room artic, so I decided to cover
him up.  Just as I was reaching for the afghan -- his hand shot up and grabbed
my arm.

      He pulled me down on top of him, and before I knew it, we were on the
floor, with him on top of me, groping at me, pulling my sundress up.  "Billy --
what are you doing,"  I shouted!  "Stop it!"  In response, he slapped me across
the face, hard.  It stunned me long enough for him to rip off my panties. "I'm
gonna fuck you Laura" he said, his voice thick and urgent.  I stared up in his
face with shock -- he looked like a stranger.  His face was flushed, his eyes
glassy, and despite the chilly air in the room, his face was beaded with sweat.
"No -- no!  I'm your sister -- you can't do this," I cried! He just laughed,
and fell on top of me, kissing my face, licking and sucking at my neck.  My
futile struggles just inflamed his lust more.  "I've got to fuck you Laura," he
gasped, as he pulled down his shorts.  His manhood sprang out at me, huge,
swollen, and hard as a rock.  "I've wanted to fuck you for years -- and I know
you want it too!"  With that, he fell on top of me, and pried my legs open.  I
screamed, and tried to push him away, but it was no use -- he was much too
strong for me.  Before I knew it he was between my legs, and with one thrust,
tore deep inside of me.

      I screamed with pain, and he moaned with pleasure as he realized he had
taken my virginity.  He began to thrust up and down inside me, over and over
again, moaning with pleasure as he raped me. "Oh Laura... man, you're so
tight... oh god" he called out as he pumped away furiously at me.  I could only
lay there and sob as my own brother raped me, feeling awash with shame as his
powerful thrusts pushed us across the floor.  I looked up at him once, and his
face was smeary with bliss as he raped his only sister. "mmmm, good..." he
moaned as he licked and sucked at my face.  It seemed to go on forever.  I
closed my eyes, but I could feel his body shudder, I could still hear his
grunts of pleasure, and winced when he called my name out in ecstasy.  "Oh
Laura -- you feel so good!  Oh yeah... oh yeah... oh baby" he called. Finally,
his movements grew more frantic, and with a final shuddering thrust, he came
deep inside me, and collapsed on top of me.  He laid there for what seemed like
hours, trapping me beneath him.  When he finally let me up, I ran straight out
the door, went home, locked myself in the bathroom, and sobbed in the shower
for hours.

      I didn't report it.  How could I?  How could I tell the world that my own
brother had raped me?  It would destroy my family -- my dad had a bad heart and
telling him that his daughter had been raped by her own brother could kill him!
No -- I didn't tell.  I kept silent, avoided Billy at all costs whenever I
could.  The few times I was forced to be around him, he acted like nothing was
amiss, and I did too.  It seemed best that way, to forget, pretend it never
happened.  I couldn't cope with it any other way.

      And then -- three months later, as I sat on the examining table at my
family doctors, and heard him say "Laura, you're pregnant," I realized the
nightmare would never be over.  I was pregnant with Billy's child, my own
brother had made me pregnant.  There was no forgetting it now.  Abortion was
against my religion -- I would have to give birth to my brother's child, and my
life was over.

      I told my parents first.  Of course they wanted to know who the father
was -- since it couldn't have been Jeff.  I made up a lame story about getting
drunk at a party -- and that I didn't know who my baby's father was.  They were
devestated.  We're a conventional Catholic family, and even in this day and
age, an unmarried, pregnant daughter was something to be ashamed of.  I never
even got the chance to tell Jeff.  Somehow, his sister heard about my pregnancy
and told him before I could.  He sent me a letter, calling me a whore and a
slut, and broke up with me.

      I will never forget the look on Billy's face when I told him that I was
pregnant with his child.  He was delighted.  "What's wrong with you!"  I cried.
"I'm your sister!  You raped me and now I'm pregnant with your baby! Aren't you
ashamed!"  He shrugged, and said "Why do you think I raped you? I wanted to
make you pregnant.  Shanda can't ever give me children, and if I divorced her,
I'd lose everything.  She wanted to adopt, but I want a child of my own blood.
So, I raped you, got you pregnant, and once my child is born, Shanda and I will
adopt it.  This way, I know it's mine".  I could only stare at him, aghast.  It
had all been planned!  And now, I was pregnant by Billy, and had no choice but
to give birth to his baby.  I laughed in his face and told him that unless he
wnted to identify himself as the father of my baby, there was nothing he could
do to keep me from giving it to strangers.  That took the smug look off his
face -- he apparently hadn't thought of that.

      The months passed with agonizing slowness.  As my belly swelled bigger
and bigger with my brother's child, I grew more and more depressed.  I spent
all of my time alone with my shame, at home.  My family was ashamed of me and
my pregnancy.  all of my friends had deserted me, and I knew the whole town was
talking about me.  I guess that's why I got attached to the baby.  There was no
one else to talk to, and it wasn't the baby's fault that I had been raped by my
brother.  I'd lay awake at night and caress my bulging belly, wanting so much
to keep my baby, but knowing I couldn't.  I was so young, only 21, and I had no
way to support myself, let alone a baby.  My parents had made it clear that my
only choice was adoption -- they wouldn't support me and my baby.  And I
couldn't stand the thought of handing my child over to strangers, never to see
it again.

      And so... when I was eight months pregnant, I asked Mom to have Billy and
Shanda over to the house.  I hadn't seen much of either of them, and the few
times I had seen Billy I ignored him.  The whole family gathered around the
table, and I sobbed as I said I wanted Billy and Shanda to adopt my baby. It
was the only way.  As much as I hated Billy for raping me and forcing me to
have his baby, he was still the child's father.  This way, our baby would be
with one of his parents.  And I could see him grow up.  Shanda started crying
and thanking me over and over again.  If she only knew what a monster she had
married!

      Nine months after Billy raped me I gave birth to our son.  Both Billy and
Shanda were there with me, and the nurse gave our son to Billy first.  I never
hated him more than at that minute, watching him hold our baby.  He had gotten
what he wanted, a child of his own, but at my expense.  I barely saw my son at
all after the birth -- Shanda had him almost every moment.  And once I signed
the adoption papers, I left town, courtesy of Shanda's family, who paid for two
years at the Sorbonne for me.  It was better that way, everyone said.  The baby
- who of course was named after Billy -- would be able to bond with his new
parents this way, and it would be easier on me.

      It wasn't, it was so hard.  In the two years that I was gone, I only saw
one picture of my son, taken when he was just a week old.  No one mentioned him
in the letters and phone calls.  I didn't see my son till he was two years old.
It took my breath away when I did see him -- he looked exactly like his father.
Which of course, everyone chalks up to his being the boy's uncle.  Well,
eventually I moved away, and married a good man.  Ted doesn't know about my
son, it's the family secret.  Little Billy doesn't know that he was adopted,
and they plan on never telling him that his aunt is actually his mother.  Ted
and I see the family once a year, and it's hard.  I found out just this last
week that I can't have any more children myself.  Ted says it doesn't matter,
but I am left knowing that I can never claim my son.

.