“We’ve got to fornicate again tonight, Bob.”
“So soon?”
“I failed the pregnancy test again at the clinic today and they said if I failed next month, they’d have to art-preg me.”
“Well, tell them I can’t get it up anymore.”
“That wouldn’t matter. You know that. They’ll haul you in and hook you up to the electro-ejaculator. Bob, I don’t want to be one of those women who have to be art-pregged.” She was starting to cry. “My Personal Pastor Counselor says God looks with disfavor on art-pregged wives. Other men perform their duty to God’s Church of the Evangels. I don’t know why you can’t.”
From Rabbletown: Life in These United Christian States of Holy America
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