Too Late (Commission for Sugnanayr)

“Everything seems to be perfectly fine. I’m going to guess we’ll be seeing one another about a month from now!”

For most, hearing those words spoken aloud would be nothing short of fantastic, the final confirmation needed to know that all those months spent carrying a new life weren’t for nothing. Everything was perfectly fine; in a month’s time, they would be experiencing the wonders of motherhood and all they had to offer, good or bad. But the bun wasn’t most people; in fact, it’d be outright disingenuous to claim otherwise.

The eight months she spent gravid had been a unique experience for Melinda, who had taken quite the shine to the idea of being that large. At first she, much like anyone else (or so they imagined), dreaded the difficulties and challenges that came with being pregnant. It wasn’t exactly planned, and she didn’t have a stable relationship to go with it, so the idea of having to take care of something like that entirely on her own was daunting, to say the least. But as the months rolled by and she saw her body bloat and swell like it had, not just around the midriff but everywhere else as well, she took a liking to it.

And she didn’t want it to go away.

It was madness to want to stop something like that, hence why Melinda didn’t want it to stop; after seeing her body transform in the ways it had, the bun very much needed to keep going, just so she could see how far she could take her body while still remaining functional. It wasn’t enough for her to waddle; she’d have to stretch the limits of mobility, and even then it was doubtful whether or not she’d be satisfied. It hadn’t been just her belly bulging out; her tits had never been so big and full, her ass and hips so wide and shapely, all of her body preparing to deliver what had to be a significantly-sized litter, as befitting her species. The thought of having it all go away, even if some part of it would remain, was too painful to even consider, hence why the first thing the bun did on returning home was… explore her options.

There were a variety of procedures of varying degrees of invasiveness that catered specifically to her needs. Most of them were heavily frowned upon, seeing as they interrupted a process that was designed from the ground-up to have an ending, but she didn’t care; her body would become that of a broodmother if it was the last thing she did, and to that end, absolutely nothing was off the table when it came to prolonging her pregnancy, even if the bun had to resort to less than legal methods of acquiring chemical compounds that came with big warning labels telling her how dangerous it was to actually use them.

Melinda, in her own little world, had very little patience for anything that might stand in her way. The forums told her that those tablets would help keep her gravid for as long as she took them, so that’s exactly what she was going to do, even if she had to sink a significant chunk of her savings to buy that whole box of them. The bun could only imagine what she’d look like months down the line, trembling all over at the mere thought of it. She had to exercise a significant amount of restraint just to keep herself from taking more of the medication than strictly necessary; some part of her really wanted to see what would happen if she overdosed, a voice that Melinda wasn’t all too sure she wanted to silence.

Regardless, the tablets were there, and as long as she took one a day, she’d never give birth. What that would do to her body was still a mystery, but after the due date came and went and the bun dutifully ignored the many calls from her doctor, probably wanting to know what was wrong with her, she began to realize that maybe she was wrong in assuming… a lot of things. Though her belly continued to grow as expected, it began to stabilize a couple of weeks after she was supposed to give birth, probably as a consequence of the little buns inside of her being fully developed. It was horrifying to think that she’d gone to all that effort only to have nothing more happen to her… until an idea struck.

It was stupid and would probably never work, borne more out of some weird sense of porn-logic biology than any real-world applicability. But she had to try out, she just had to, lest the bun spend the rest of her life wondering what might have been had she gone ahead and taken the time to find someone who was as into pregnant women as she herself was. Unsurprisingly, finding someone that both fit into that category and was desperately seeking attention wasn’t all that hard, and by the end of the tenth month, Melinda was dragging home a young rabbit around her age, hung like a horse and about as eager to use his assets as she was to take them. The two spent most of the night keeping her neighbors up and seriously straining the springs on her bed; if at any point either of them wanted to stop, the other would put a pin in that by carrying on regardless, the two rabbits alternating between that role as they took shifts being the one on top, and the one gasping for breath as they desperately attempted to recover from the constant pounding they were receiving.

By sunrise, both of them were sweating and caked in their own juices, the male in particular being an absolute mess of femcum thanks to their acrobatic proclivities; they’d fallen asleep on top of her belly, considering it the best pillow they’d ever had in their life.

Getting them to leave was… difficult.

Melinda had no interest in pursuing a relationship with that man, though she did keep his number by promising to give him a call should she need another good night; truth be told, it’d been some time since the bun had as much as fun as she had, but whatever happened during those hours was quickly overshadowed by their direct consequences.

Her ridiculous idea had paid off. It shouldn’t have, but it did; whatever those tablets did to her, they allowed her pregnancy to start all over again, a brand new litter growing alongside the original one. She could feel them inside of her swollen womb, in far greater numbers than her original progeny; it was actually kind of worrying how quickly they grew up, to the point where her belly was almost dragging along the ground by the end of the third month alone and movement began impossible without some kind of external assistance midway through the fourth. The bun had to invest on a wheeled platform just to get herself around the house, something that might be humiliating for others, but only served as constant validation for the pregnancy-obsessed mind inside Melinda’s skull.

To her, all of this was exactly what she always wanted. A womb so full and a body so massive that the simple act of moving around became too much to handle. The rest of her was taking nicely to the second stacked breeding as well, with her breasts in particular filling up to truly absurd sizes in preparation for what they assumed would be a lot of work; the rabbit couldn’t go anywhere without leaking copious amounts of sweet cream, more often than not having it trail along the sides of her colossally gravid belly and leaving its smell wherever it landed. Her home’s atmosphere ended up legitimately intoxicating; though the bun could handle it, the occasional visitor (be they wholesome or not) would have to spend several minutes getting accustomed, or else their minds would be overwhelmed.

The one bad side to her experience was the one thing she tried her best to ignore: money. Much as she was technically pregnant, her company wasn’t going to keep her on maternity leave forever, especially not after she accidentally let slip to one of her friends that she was deliberately holding herself in that state and, through a convoluted series of drunken ramblings, this information made its way to her boss. The bun was given an ultimatum: come back to work in two weeks or she was fired.

The bun chose herself. And thus the money well dried up.

Her options were incredibly limited, given how leaving the house just wasn’t possible anymore and they lacked the ability to go to any interviews. For a while she flirted with the idea of bottling up her milk in order to sell it, but soon enough a much better alternative would present itself, one that not only would give her all the cash she needed, but feed into her growing addiction even more.

On browsing the internet for job opportunities, having to be careful not to let her laptop fall off of her belly-cum-table, her attention was constantly diverted away from what it was supposed to do in order to find more material for her to indulge in. It was hard to get her mind off of it, but after several wasted hours of going through entirely inane, pointless fap material, Melinda found something that might genuinely help her: surrogate motherhood. It was admittedly nothing novel, but a new company had recently opened around her area that intended to experiment with how applicable mass marketing could be with the concept; namely, whether or not they could turn it into a profitable business model.

This was all the bun needed to know. Without a moment’s hesitation, she called up their offices and practically demanded to know everything they could share, all-but imposing herself onto their “carrier” list before being informed she’d be contacted some time later. Her time was thus spent waiting for the wonderful day when they’d call her back, while her own body continued to bloat to tremendous sizes. Melinda could only hope that this opportunity panned out; she was rapidly approaching a point where her belly was simply too big to fit through her doors, and considering how she had no intention of stopping her eternal pregnancy any time soon, she could only assume the problem would get continuously worse until such a point as the walls themselves had to go. Without any money to spare, however, she had to deal with the logistics of carrying around a weight the size of a small bed, having to spend a good five minutes on each doorframe and reducing her to instant meals; she’d been unable to reach the stove for a good week at that point.

Some part of her wondered if she shouldn’t hire a personal assistant at some point, presumably a male one with a thing for gravid women, but quickly discarded the idea; if she wanted to whore herself out, Melinda would skip the pleasantries and go stand in a street corner, rather than trying to cover it up with a thin veneer of decency and professionalism. No, she’d just have to deal with the consequences of her actions herself, even if it meant having to make constant breaks just to catch her breath, or using large, pressure-resistant cylinders to store her milk.

This last one ended up being a far better business venture than Melinda expected it to be; there was a surprisingly large market for genuine breast milk, and seeing as each of her tits were now about as big as her torso was, there was no shortage of bun cream for her to sell. Every other day she’d be visited by a courier from a local dairy farm, the exact same young equine whose eyes wandered more and more over the bun’s body whenever he turned up. Though they never got any closer than necessary for money to exchange hands, Melinda nonetheless had quite a bit of fun watching the effects her body had on the poor guy; one of these days, she thought, those pants would rip from all the strain they were under.

With the money rolling back in after a few milky deliveries, the bun could finally afford to hire herself some eager workmen and get busy completely remodelling her house. Thinking ahead, she chose to tear down every wall that wasn’t completely necessary, leaving her with enough room to carry herself around without needing to squeeze anywhere. In order to further amplify her money-making capabilities, she had a set of wall-mounted milking pumps installed next to the bathroom, letting her drain herself more adequately and without needing to waste her body’s weight in AA batteries every week or so. The process took the better part of a month, considering how Melinda herself was unable to leave the house, thus forcing the builders to work around her while trying desperately to ignore the constant sounds her body produced. By the time it was over and the cleaning staff were done sweeping everything and giving her a warm bath to get all the dust out, Melinda was ready to take on the world.

Of course, in the middle of all this, her second pregnancy was still underway. Whatever else those tablets did, one thing they had absolutely affected was her fertility, because that size was not normal. The bun had expected something along the lines of doubling her pregnant self’s nine-month weight, maybe tripling if she was lucky, but they were only halfway through and already moving at all was proving to be a challenge. Even the use of a wheeled platform wasn’t enough to get her from place to place, and whenever she found the strength to actually change where she was sitting at, the prospect of getting off her rotund, full ass was usually enough to make her give up before even trying.

Her body had seemingly gotten fully on-board with the idea of turning itself into a perpetual breeding machine, even more so once the company finally called back and the treatments began; the representative wasn’t all that enthused about the idea of her halting her pregnancy like that, but all that was needed was a signature on a piece of paper and they were ready to fill her up again. Melinda, for her part, had no intention of ever living up to whatever promise she made there, not having bothered reading the papers she had just signed; what mattered was she was going to get even bigger than she was already. Her milky mounds had swollen and bloated until they, too, would be enough to immobilize her all on their own, were they not precariously percged atop an even larger broodmother-esque midriff. Below the waist, her hips had widened so much to deal with the breaking of waters that would never happen that no couches were ever going to be needed again; all Melinda had to do was sit down and that colossal ass of hers was more than enough for all her comfort needs, doubly so if she leaned forward onto her belly.

All in all, there was no real need for movement, and as soon as the bun realized that, her mind began racing with the possibilities… though mostly began worrying about what came next. If she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, move then she’d be unable to find more sources of seed to impregnate herself further, and seeing as how the surrogate litter was going down the same exponential path as her second one had, it was downright idiotic to just give up now. But stuck as she was inside a house whose ceiling was quickly becoming far too cramped to contain her properly, what was she going to do?

The answer was very simple, albeit not without issues with the execution. The bun had found someone willing to hook up with her before, so it shouldn’t be hard to do so again; the only difference is that instead of dragging herself over to a bar (assuming any bar would even be big enough to hold her inside), Melinda had to advertise her services in a more… indirect way. Forum posts, a select few websites, even some messages to trusted friends, they all began to create a complex network that ended up in producing their desired effect: people knocking at the door.

If any part of the old Melinda had survived her transition into a broodmother, they might’ve wondered where things went “wrong”, where exactly her life had turned from “expectant mother” to nothing short of a cheap whore. As she was now, though, there was very little doubt that this was the correct course of action; with her body fine-tuned to keep becoming ever more gravid, breaking the very rules of biology for the sake of indulging a mind too far gone in its own self-indulgence to truly consider the consequences of its own actions, there could be no better solution to her problem than offering herself up for money. As the bun expected, there was no shortage of males who were really into the hyper-pregnant look, especially when told that their contributions would help make her even bigger.

Melinda thus spent most of her days in a funk, only breaking out of it whenever her newest customer dragged himself from underneath her, shoved a few bills in her face and then opened the door for the next one. At some point, the bun vaguely recalled hiring someone to handle her “appointments” and the more practical aspects of her daily life, like eating or milking herself, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember what that person’s name was. They occasionally showed up in her field of view, asking all manner of questions the bun could only answer with a moan, before vanishing for hours at a time.

Melinda didn’t care though.

She just wanted to keep taking those tablets.