The Changeling Baby
Oral Sex / Blowjob
Masturbation / Toys
Author: BlackRonin, Source: sexstories.com
"Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand." -WB Yeats, "The Stolen Child" *** William didn't tell anyone that the baby spoke to him. Who would believe it? Instead he ran away. His parents would probably be angry, but what else could he do? The Menskrs had lived in the apartment downstairs for years and had been trying to have a baby for as long as anyone could remember. So William’s mother insisted they all pay a congratulatory visit that day and see the new arrival. William hadn't much been interested, but going along was easier than arguing. He lingered over the crib while his parents and the Menskrs talked in the living room. He had never really watched a baby for any length of time before. It was kind of ugly, but he guessed newborns always were. The little tyke (“Foster,” what kind of name is that for a kid?) had been asleep most of the time, but now he opened his scrunched-up little eyes, gurgled and tried to wave his stubby arms, which even William had to admit was pretty cute. Then something happened: The baby's expression changed. Most of the time a newborn doesn't have any real expression at all unless it's smiling, crying, or about to cry. But William could swear that the baby really was looking right at him and thinking, considering, pondering, in a way that was impossible. He tried to tell himself it was all in his head and was just about ready to believe it ...
... when, plain as day, the baby opened its mouth and spoke in a voice that was strong and clear and nothing at all like the voice of a child: "You have to go home, William," it said. His first instinct was to scream. Instead he stood there, paralyzed. The baby watched him, its cold little eyes filled with sagacity, and then it repeated: "You have to go home.” And then William ran. He was sure that if he called for his parents or the Menskrs the baby would not speak to them, for surely it had waited until they were alone on purpose? And what could he tell them? How could he explain? Even he didn't understand what had just happened. He ran from the apartment and from the building and all the way to the park down the street. There he found a small playground, empty of children in the early evening hours before dark, and sat on a swing, kicking the dirt and thinking about what he should do. First, he would never go back to the Menskr's again. And he would never tell anyone what happened with the baby; especially not his parents. It would be the last straw. He knew what they thought of him: They never said anything, but he knew that they, like almost everyone else, had never been comfortable around him. His mother, almost 40 weeks pregnant now after 18 years of trying to have a second child, would often smile at her friends and say, "We always wanted…another one." There was always a pause before "another one,” as if she had to remind herself she had one son already. It wasn’t that his ...