Moonlight Mates

My life had taken a drastic turn for the worse. After accumulating a massive amount of debt while pursuing my engineering degree, landing a promising job, and purchasing a townhouse in Bath, Maine, where I worked for Bath Iron Works—a renowned shipbuilding company affiliated with General Dynamics—I unexpectedly lost my job just two weeks ago.

The economy had plummeted during one of the most severe recessions of the 21st century. There were positive developments in international relations, such as the assassination of Putin and Russia’s withdrawal from Ukraine, as well as China’s decision to vacate the Spratly Islands. These improvements led the Department of Defense to cancel contracts for twenty Navy ships, including three projects at Bath Iron Works. While our shipyard also constructed commercial and private vessels, the recession had stifled demand for yachts and container ships. We still had some repair and retrofitting contracts, but they didn’t require as many engineers as we had initially hired.

Several senior engineers chose early retirement, and many of the newer engineers, myself included, were laid off. The unemployment benefits I received were not nearly enough to cover my townhouse payments, let alone my student loans.

I immediately explored opportunities with other shipbuilding companies, only to find out that they were facing the same challenges as Bath Iron Works. I reached out to fellow engineering graduates I had studied with, but they were in the same predicament. I even considered working for cruise lines or overseas yacht builders, but the recession had hit them hard as well. Taking a low-paying job, like at McDonald’s or Burger King, would have jeopardized my unemployment benefits and left me with little time to search for another well-paying position. I had approximately three months’ worth of living expenses in my bank account, after which I would be completely broke and forced to declare bankruptcy. I didn’t want to rely on my retired parents for financial assistance since they had no new source of income.

By the way, my name is Jessica Huppert. I’m 5’9” tall, weigh 125 pounds, have an athletic physique, high and firm C cup breasts, dark brown hair, and I’m usually quick to smile—although the past couple of weeks have been an exception. I mention these details because I found myself contemplating desperate measures like turning to prostitution to make ends meet. That’s how dire my situation had become. However, I knew that Bath, Maine, being a small town, couldn’t sustain a career in that field, and the tight-knit community made it less conducive for engaging in illegal activities. Even Portland, Maine might not offer viable options. I might have to consider relocating to a larger city like Boston, which would mean giving up my beloved townhouse on the rugged Maine coast—a thought I despised. I felt utterly helpless and doomed, without even a single silver lining to cling to.

I scoured newspapers, online job ads, and employment assistance websites, leaving no stone unturned in my desperate attempt to avert the impending disaster. The lack of progress was disheartening, and I didn’t even feel like going out to drown my sorrows in a bar. Perhaps I could at least purchase some inexpensive champagne and orange juice to lose myself in mimosas and temporarily forget my troubles.

I was on the verge of closing my web browser and calling it a night when an unexpected pop-up ad suddenly appeared. Typically, these ads were the nuisance of online browsing, but since I had been searching for jobs, this particular one seemed to be related.

The ad boldly proclaimed, “In Need of Money? Generous Compensation for the Right Person Interested in Becoming a Surrogate Mother. Visit our website for more information,” followed by a website link.

Renting out my womb had never crossed my mind before. I always imagined that if I were to have children, it would be with someone I loved and after getting married. While I wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea, I thought it might be easier for a future partner to accept the fact that I had children in the past rather than knowing I had once resorted to prostitution. Staying where I currently lived would be a definite advantage. I supposed it all came down to how much money would be involved for nine months of my life and the terms and conditions surrounding the pregnancy.

Not willing to be foolish enough to click on a random link in a pop-up ad, I decided to conduct some research first. The website turned out to be registered to a non-profit organization called Loup-Garou. Unfortunately, there was very little information available about them, apart from their filing as a non-profit and the names of their current officers. The organization was located in Maine, which was a positive aspect for me. The officers, two men and two women, had limited public information as well, except for their birth records and addresses in Maine. They seemed to be financially well-off, so it was possible they could provide some compensation for pregnancy-related expenses.

Not wanting to risk my computer’s security to a potential virus or Trojan horse, I decided to take precautions. I backed up my phone and accessed the website through my phone instead. If the website turned out to be infected, I figured I could easily erase my phone and reload my information. I even disconnected my phone from my Wi-Fi network to ensure my network’s safety.

The website directed me to an application form that asked for basic information such as my name, age, address, and phone number. They didn’t request any sensitive details like account numbers or Social Security numbers, nor did they ask for my exact date of birth, although that information could easily be inferred from my name and age. There was no specific amount listed for renting out my womb, but it seemed safe enough to proceed. I filled out the application and submitted it. A pop-up message informed me that someone would be in touch with me within a couple of days to provide further information.

Deciding to put off indulging in a drink for the moment, I opted for sleep instead. However, my financial troubles haunted my restless slumber, and my dreams were consumed by images of me carrying a child within my swollen belly.