A Cell Phone Makes Me Pregnant Ch 02

An Interracial Saga by the Consortium of CurtB, Julie Van, and Satinlvr_mwf

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Our story thus far:

Our heroine, Mrs. Suzi Recreant, has been 'discovered' by the likes of Mr. Oskar Botha, a wealthy entrepreneur and president of Rhino Industries, who is developing a world-wide network of mind-control programming, using different communications platforms. It started with cell phones, and has branched into adult entertainment clubs, apparel, a church, streaming media content, and now, broadcast news. It is this last where Mrs. Recreant is a rising star, with her porn-model looks, barely-appropriate attire, and obvious sex-appear have made the five-foot four inch tall redhead an internet and ratings sensation. So much so that her cell phone has imposed some dastardly influence on her, and her marriage, however she is quite unaware of it all. Her husband, however, is aware of this hot redhead porn actress he sees on TV, and yet is oblivious to her real identity.

For more of the background and history, please read "A Cell Phone Made Me Pregnant Chapter 1", and any of the "Out of Africa" series.

One last note. The author would like to warn that this saga contains content of a sexual nature, involving interracial sex, infidelity, mind-control, and other seemingly controversial topics. It any of these offend you, please move on to genres more to your liking. This author is not interested in the berating and threats from anonymous detractors.

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"What do you mean I have to go back? Do you have any idea who is in that place? Thugs and criminals! It's not the boy scouts!" I was almost yelling at my boss. He was actually a nice guy, and didn't deserve this pushback, but I had literally just gotten back last night from the trip. I was sore all over, and I really wasn't sure why, though I was growing afraid I had picked up a yeast infection. I was leaking some thin, whitish fluids from time to time.

The initial trip to the prison had been to document the efforts of a local church to rehabilitate the inmates, and have social contacts made by church members to establish relationships with the inmates when they were released. The visit was just myself, a lady from the church, and a couple of management types. Oh, and my husband. He had been whining about my being inside a prison with so many male inmates, and was worried for my safety. My station agreed to give him a spare camera and call him a cameraman. But we got separated inside, as there was a limit to the number of people allowed in the cell block. After that, my memories get really sketchy until after we left. Which brings me back to the present.

"Sorry Suzi... It seems that the story you sent back in wasn't what they were looking for at the network. This time you have to dig deeper. Get into the daily life of an inmate. Get inside their head. Find out what makes a man want to risk going to prison for, maybe?" My boss told me calmly and rationally.

I arrived home after my late-evening broadcast, sore, achy, and a bit pissy. My cell-phone had died when I accidentally dropped it on my way to the set, and one of our clumsier stage-hands decided to step on it with his size 9 boot, immediately before I went on air. The crunch was immediately recognizable, and about twelve people turned to see my poor phone cracked and damaged beyond repair. At the first commercial break, my sexy smile fell into a total-warfare frown, and I immediately began to lambaste him, and he got to take my ire and frustrations over my having to go back to the prison, and do more interviews. Truth was, I hated being inside there. All I remembered was how dreary it was when I walked in, and yet how exhausted and sore I felt as I walked out!

I pretty easily dismissed my husband's welcome home perfunctorily, and began to strip down in our bedroom. I was starting to think of it as my bedroom, as my husband, Zack, rarely went to bed when I did, and awoke after I went to work. I had stopped having sex with him, because he just wasn't even making any real attempt to be a man anymore! The more I thought about it, the more I realized my husband was acting really strange. It was like he was taking my PMS medicine or something. I spied him the other night, wearing what I first thought was one of my sheer negligees, but when I realized it wasn't in my color, I had to lift my brows in confusion. I was even more shocked when he stuck his feet into a pair of heels that had to be his, for his feet were like flippers compared to mine, and he snuck out into the front yard. Just where the hell he was going, I had no idea, but given my state of feeling just awful, exhausted and with a desperate need for sleep, I just got my drink of water and went back to bed. I'd deal with him later. Later wasn't arriving yet, as I was still so furious about having to go back to that creepy place!

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"Hey, Zack... Oops, I mean Nikki. You made it, and you look so pretty!" The words made Zack blush despite the butchering of his girl-name, but he giggled in a higher voice all the same. He had remembered to take his cell phone with him, in case the damn thing went off while Suzi was home alone. It was vibrating softly and making a pretty array of colorful displays. He loved his phone, because it not only worked great, but somehow he felt better with it.

"Thanks, Honey! I'm glad you like me!" He giggled to his neighbor, as he twirled, letting the motion flare out his nearly see-through attire widely and expose him below the armpits. His name tonight was Tony, but when it was his turn, his name was Toni. He had it simple. He was wearing a short dress and heels similar to Zack's, but unlike him, he had my chastity cage on. They used to debate on-end about who would get to be the girl, so they decided to alternate. Tonight it was Zack's, so Zack wore the sexy little chiffon and satin negligee` he had seen on TV! He also got to wear lingerie and heels, and had done his makeup and donned a long brown wig. He had started using a depilatory cream as well, and was now pretty much hairless below his neck. It was no real loss, actually. What he had was thin and sparse, but it still showed when he wore stockings. He was growing to hate body-hair!

From a distance Zack could pass as a girl, if the light was dim, and there wasn't too much light. He was even walking better in his heels, since he was practicing every chance he could get. He was finding being a girl so much more exciting! Since he was starting to get a really good handle on Suzi's schedule, he knew to within ten-minutes when she was coming or going. This was letting him do more online shopping and buy more sexy outfits, as well as practicing his makeup and hair styles. Besides, with the time home alone, he was able to watch some of my favorite TV channels.

Their TV was great, and had all the latest technology, including ultra-high definition and surround sound. Sometimes he would watch one of the interracial, sex channels, and hear every moan and slap of the stud's heavy balls as they slapped his girl's ass. Or chin. Or pussy. It was all depending on what position they were in. Sometimes Zack would look hard and could imagine it was his wife on TV, and having incredible sex with random black men, which he was finding so terribly exciting to watch. He would get dressed up as Nikki, and stand in front of the TV, playing with himself until all three of them climaxed together. It was great fun! It was forming inside him an idea to try and do what the girl was doing, someday.

"You know, Tony... I think one day you will have to take me on a date. I just got my new dress, and it looks really pretty! I can wear it with my black lingerie and my long hair, and be just like a college co-ed!" Zack smiled to him.

That was when Tony grabbed Zack by the neck and mashed his lips to the transvestite, and they moaned as they kissed, making Zack take Tony's tongue fully into his mouth. Zack tried to kiss him back, but he was so forceful, powerful, and dominant that Zack simply wilted.

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"Zack..." I got my husband's attention in my sweetest voice the next morning. "I have some news for you." My words ended with my trademark brilliant smile. His eyes immediately narrowed. He knew something was up.

"I'm sorry to do this to you, especially after just getting back, but I have to go back to the penitentiary. It seems the office wants a more in-depth follow-up on life on the inside. Since I was just there, I guess I am still the best person to go."

"What do you mean, you have to go back?" he exclaimed sharply!

Raising my hands, I just groaned to him. "I know, I know...I don't really want to go back, either, the place gives me the creeps! Being in there, alone, with so many hardened criminals and thugs is pretty damn scary to me!"

My husband grunted, as he sat at the breakfast table, wearing a short satin robe, and what looked all the world for little sockies I wear with my tennis shoes. His face was reddened, too. Maybe it was because he was suddenly surprised with the bad news? I know the last time; he went with us at my insistence with the station. I really wanted someone to be able to look after me while I was inside. So we posed him as a cameraman to the prison, and they bought into it. Though we did get separated, and I have no idea what happened to him while I was with the church lady and the others.

This time it would be me, and an assigned cameraman from the local affiliate station, I explained as he sat there, a cup of tea in his hand. I really was frustrated at going back, too. My preferred crew got to stay home. Most of them quickly planned vacations in my absence. His hollering brought me back from that thought.

"You are going alone? Just who is going to protect you from those very same thugs and convicts? I mean... they are robbers, gunmen, and even rapists!"

"Honey... listen... I wasn't given a choice. This came down from Network, and they say they want more, so I have to give them more. It is called continuity of coverage, and for credibility, I have to be the one doing the reporting. They also said that the prison wasn't really happy having to make accommodations for you, so you are most definitely staying here. I will have an assigned production team locally, and it should be no more than one day inside, or perhaps two. I'll only be gone four or five days at most!"

I could see my husband being somewhat mollified, but still unhappy. 'Well, tough shit...' I was thinking. Here he was giving me flack, and I was the one actually taking the risks? I had to struggle to contain my composure. He was whining more and more, it seemed. It's not like I had a choice, did I?

As I packed my bags, I made sure to bring an extra couple of outfits, as I was also told that I had to have my wardrobe approved by the local producer. Something about making sure my ratings were kept above the basis point. As if I would ever let my ratings dip!

Wearing a pink satin blouse, and black satin split-leg pants,I gave my husband a quick kiss goodbye, and made straight for the limo to begin my journey. My heels clicking on the sidewalk as my husband forlornly shut the door behind me.

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"Welcome back, Mrs. Recreant... We are pleased to see you return, though we are perplexed as to why."

I sat on the proffered padded chair in the warden's office. The portly white man wore an ill-fitting suit, and his demeanor was a bit off-putting, as his tone was very haughty and filled with self-absorption, but I put that due to his having to work with so vile 'patrons'. I remembered on my last visit that race seemed to be a non-issue. There were plenty of all races to go around, though I did notice relatively few Asian men. It was just a passing thought as my attention was dragged back to the present, and the monotonous drone of the warden.

"As a reminder, you will be seeing men of all types and descriptions. As your network has requested, we are going to pull back our security somewhat. While this will place you at a higher additional risk, you will get to sign a waiver of liability, saying you assume all risks for your health and safety during the interviews. Your network has, of course, already agreed to this."

His stumpy fingers pushed a few sheets of papers at me. I normally shuffle this sort of thing off to the producer, but as I made my habitual slide, I remembered I had not yet caught up with my production crew. That would be later in the day. With a soft sigh, I signed the paperwork in my feminine, soft, flowing script, a lettering even Miss Manners would have approved of. It was something ingrained in me by my mother.

"Girls simply didn't have chicken-scratch!" her voice echoed in my mind. Shaking the thought off, I slid the papers back.

"Excellent, now, if you would please stand? This will be your first security inspection. To be fair, you will be undergoing a few of these, but to familiarize you with the process, I will be doing your first one myself."

I rose to my red heels, the stilettos sinking into the soft padding of the rich carpet as I brushed the folds of my satin dress into place. A brilliant red and orange pattern, it favorably enhanced my auburn hair, and gave me a nice glow to my pale, Irish-heritage skin. I was a bit self-conscious as he moved, actually, he more like waddled, around the excessively large desk to reach me. I took that opportunity to try and make my skirt just a tad longer, if I could, so he would not get a glimpse of the tops of my tan thigh-highs and my garter-belt straps.

The dress was very high-necked, and the man's collar closed tightly about my neck, with matching cuffs at the long sleeves. All in all, I was pretty well covered, I thought. Far more than my usual work attire, but I had just come directly from the airport. The miniskirt-length hem had gotten me plenty of attention already. I didn't particularly want, or need, more. Certainly not from this fat slob.

"Please your arms out from your sides and spread your legs." He said matter of factly. All the while his hands started to feel my body. He was definitely making this thorough, as he started at my full mop of hair, and ran his fingers through to the end, where his fingers then gripped the ends, and yanked my head back from behind.

"You can expect to be like this." His suddenly sinister voice menaced in my ear, his hot breath making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. " If those animals get to you before we can, you can expect they will be rough with you, at the very least. At worst? Hope you are on birth control."

I stood still, pursing my lips as he 'informed me' of what I can expect. All the while, his hands never stopped moving, the silky satin print allowing his puffy fingers to explore me. His fingers reached around from behind me and groped my very ample breasts, ending by pinching my nipples, hard, and while he tried to twist them, the satin wouldn't let him get a good-enough grip. Score one for fashion!

I was taking a series of slow, deep breaths, trying to control myself. I was at once angry, scared, and frustrated.

Here I was, a highly-posted news reporter being felt up by some brute of a warden, who was obviously using his position and opportunity to get his jollies off. His hands slid lower, and around me, feeling nearly every contour and curve. Under my breasts, down my abdomen, and over my hips. He was giving me a very thorough, lewd, and rude 'security check.'

"Turn around and keep your legs spread." I looked down at him, now on his knees, turning to face him as he licked his lips. I stood before him, as he required, and started to drop my arms. "Keep them up." He commanded.

It was humiliating, being like this, just he and I in this expanse of an office, while he molested me at his pleasure. I couldn't see below his waist because of all the flab he carried, but I imagine he was sporting a stiffy. His hinds reached from my waist down to my hips and then to my backside, where his fingers groped me a little more than firmly, confirming by touch I was wearing a thong instead of panties. I had little doubt he was going to find out just how small they were, when he leaned forward and buried his nose into my crotch, inhaling deeply, while his fingers slid under my skirt and started to probe along the crack of my ass.

I groaned loud, in disgust, my head falling back on my shoulders in a display of annoyance and aggravation. Unfortunately, he mistook my utterance as pleasure, and he shook his head back and forth, the shiny satin yielding to him as his nose managed to lift it, burrowing to my crotch under my dress. His breath was hot against my vulva, and the landing strip ruffled softly in his hot exhaling. That was when I felt his fingers slide along under me, and across my exit. I stiffened as he did that, circling my brown hole a few times as his tongue started to lick at my tiny triangular sheer thong. The material was Vee'd, leaving my clit exposed when aroused, something my producers just loved, and had even managed to buy a multitude of pairs, in so many colors that I never had a problem finding the perfect match, or contrast, for my outfit.

His licking went on for what seemed like an hour, but was only enough to coat my thong with his drool. I think he was disappointed when his fingers found my thong so tight against my petals that he couldn't penetrate them. Still, his fingers began to circle around my pearl, as it was just showing that, despite my resistance, he was arousing me. My breathing had grown even deeper, and I would occasionally suck in air between my teeth. Then he shifted his face, and nibbled on my clit.

"UUUNNHHHH!" my soft voice exclaimed, proving my sexual pleasure, as my hands fell to my sides, my feet climbing to my tiptoes. I was trying to deny him, and at the same time follow orders. I didn't want to blow this and have to come back yet again. My hands moved to the back of his head, mostly for balance, but as he kept tickling my button, I had to grasp his thin shock of gray hair, and hold on.

Every breath I made was now a mewling of pleasure, and my legs started to tremble. That was when both his hands dug into the thin straps of my thong and drew them down over my hips, and to my ankles. He then bumped my crotch with his head and pushed me over, where I fell with aloud thud and oomph to the floor.

I worked on getting my breath back as he worked on getting his pants down, not even bothering with his coat, shirt, or tie. I glanced down and all I saw was his huge, flopping belly as he moved, making me think of Jello Jigglers. With his pants at his knees, he used his hands to grab my thong and to elevate my legs, until they were flat against his flabby chest. I had a momentary desire to laugh. I had the thought that his bra size might be bigger than mine!

That was when I felt him start to poke at my labia. Using one hand, he was trying to use the head of his shaft to open me, so he could slide in. Fate was on my side, as the man just wasn't big enough to overcome his waistline. I had a sigh of relief, and started to speak.

"Just stop... Stop now, and I won't report you. This will be just... the price of admission, and we'll move on."

"Fat chance, bitch," He fairly snarled. "I missed out on you last time. Now you're mine!"

He used his beefy hand to snap my thong over my heels, and then rolled me effortlessly onto my side as my skirt slid to my waist, revealing my matching garter-belt and stockings. He was definitely not lacking in brute strength. He had to be strong, even to move! He then straddled my bottom leg, while stretching my top one up high, until he could crawl in and snug his crotch against mine. That was when I felt his hardness begin to poke harder at me. Crotch to crotch like this, I had no chance. His free hand then made my back arch as he managed to force me open, and the tip of his manhood penetrated me.