AH SHIT (futa, humor)

ANother one off but might go with other chaps if you all want. Let me know.

AH SHIT

“Ah shit,” Vera Mae growled out, stepping out onto the crooked porch and bending to pick up the blanket-lined box holding a baby. Immediately, she fished a finger into the leg opening of the diaper to feel for it. “Yep, mine,” she sighed.

Turning to reenter the structure she called out. “Dammit paw, we need another room.” Vera Mae navigated through the virtual sea of humanity as she carried the box into the kitchen, setting it down on the long wooden table.

Her two eldest, Sarah and Tammy Beth were sitting at the table with wide grins on their mugs. Their mother bent over and looked under the heavy table to see the next eldest Flora and Georgia Ann sucking at the large ten inchers with pleasure.

“You be sure to make no mess now, you youngin’s,” Vera Mae said and tickled the chin of the cherub lying in the box. “PAW!”

“What in tarnashion is a goin’ on here?” the old, bearded man asked in a falsetto voice as he clomped into the kitchen with his shit stained boots.

“Paw, we got t’another one,” Vera Mae stated and pointed at the cooing baby on the table.

“Yer sure?”

“Yep. Mine.”

“Dag nammit Vera Mae. You gotta keep your wick outta them wimmen folk,” he shouted loudly. “Them gover’ment papers are a witch to write up.”

“Then whatta am I to stick it in then?” the dutiful daughter asked, setting a hand on her shapely hip.

“What? Oh, I don’ know. Anythin’ daughter. ANYTHIN’ but a fertile woman. Just use yer head.”

The eighteen year old thought for a few seconds. “Well, I’ll try paw but it won’t really be the same.”

“Daughter, if it weren’t for the state and ole George Washington, D.C. givin’ us a whole bunch of money for yer twenty two . . . “

“Twenty three, paw,” Very Mae interrupted and pointed at the now erect baby dick sticking out of the loose fitting diaper.

“Dang it, that kid’s gonna blow,” Paw exclaimed. And sure enough, that little baby worm shivered and a stream of pee shot out, wetting the baby all over.

“Aww, yer right paw. I missed that one,” Vera Mae said, stepping over to clean up the child.

Paw stomped out of the kitchen, swatting an ocean of kids out of the way to his old wooden rocking chair and sat with a heavy sigh. ‘I had twelve kids, six with Emma, my wife, two with her sister Hedda and four with Nora, the mayor’s wife. It was Nora who’d given me this devil of a child,’ he thought of Vera Mae. “Damn her soul,” he muttered.

“Connie, Lori Jane and Wendy Edith, you get this baby cleaned up and diapered,” Vera Mae called out as the kids ran up and stood in line. Handing the box over to the three, she turned to stir the huge pot of oatmeal with what looked like a wooden oar. Just thinking of who that baby belonged to made hot blood to flow about her body, caus