Medication, Part 12 - Female Version

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Note: This is a female version of Medication.

Summary: All her life, Tris’s mother forced her to take a daily medication, but  never really told her why. After Tris goes off to college, she starts  skipping doses, and finally realizes just what the medication is for.  Monthly expansion. Contains: Female: belly expansion, breast expansion, and more.

Previous Chapter

-

Tris felt her mother come up behind her shoulder, and as Tris glanced back at her, she could see how terrified the older woman was.

Adam was dressed in a black suit, jacket unbuttoned, and hands pocketed. He had thick brows and a sharp jaw. His hair was somewhat tousled and his face with fixed with an unyielding frown.

Adam regarded Tris a moment, his eyes trailing along her form with rapt attention. They stopped on Tris’s belly. “My child,” Adam murmured, his voice deeper than expected.

Tris reddened slightly, both in frustration and embarrassment that the man would claim he had fathered them. “Triplets,” she mumbled with a small amount of anguish. It was clear that the curse was exacerbating.

“Sit,” said Adam.

“That had been the plan,” Tris snarked. Holding the underside of her mound, she eased herself down on the couch with a groan. Instantly she regretted the decision. The couch was too low for her now, and it would be hell to get up. Her shirt dragged up against her swell as she fidgeted.

Adam still had not taken his eyes off Tris. They were dark and wild, even with the prim way he carried himself. “You have been electing to have them despite the counter potion.”

“You must be referring to the pills,” said Tris flippantly, leaning back, trying to find a position to accommodate the shudders of movement and the twinges of pain in her back. “It’s not by choice,” she said breathlessly, rubbing her bloated flanks with the heels of her hands. “There were…extenuating circumstances.” Her stomach was doing weird things. “Ohhhh…” It felt as though the babies were performing backflips under Adam’s sharp gaze.

Her mother came over and rubbed Tris’ arm.

“What do you want?” Tris managed, to Adam.

“My family,” Adam responded, words apathetic despite the depth of them.

Tris paled. “We’re not a family. I don’t even know you.”

“And yet what you carry is mine.” Adam approached, and with a long, thin digit, he ran his pointer finger down the face of Tris’s belly.

Tris grunted as her skin prickled and pressure surged in her gut. She couldn’t believe it, but the mound shifted, pushing outward, actually growing right before her eyes, her face reddening as she tried to bear it all. “I’m not—” Tris grunted as her belly jerked with tension. She squirmed and hugged what she could of the pulsating mound. “Stop it! I’ll burst!” she cried.

“You’re mine,” Adam seethed.

“F-fine.”

The growth abruptly stopped, the pressure dissolving. Tris was left a gasping, sweaty mess, her belly bobbing with her heavy breathing. It was noticeably larger, and…her breasts were leaking into her shirt. She was mortified to find that her cheeks were also wet. Tris grimaced down at herself in self-deprecation.

“I will come tomorrow to collect you and my offspring,” said Adam. He turned and left the house, and Tris was left a flustered mess, slumped on the couch, trying to figure out what had just happened.

“Oh, honey.” Her mother embraced her—well, as much as she could of Tris, the woman’s tears soaking into the sleeve of Tris’ shirt.

Tris felt dazed. Her life had somehow just gotten even more outlandish and bizarre. She reached out to uneasily cup the side of her now-larger, heavier mound. “What’s going to happen to me?”

Her mother pulled back. Biting her lip, she appraised her. “I’m not sure, Tris. This may be the first time anyone’s come in contact with him in centuries.”

Great. Just great. Tris swallowed. “I can’t believe what a mess I’ve made.” It was all she could really think or say.

Her mother was crying again. “It’s not your fault.”

Tris barely heard her. She heaved herself up, groaning from the effort, gasping once she was standing, her hands going to the underside of her belly, trying to support the increased weight. She didn’t know what Adam had done to her babies, but they were still moving—well, squirming. And feeling extremely cramped at that point.

In a weird, robotic state, Tris proceeded to pack. It was slow and she took plenty of breaks, grimacing when a baby made a particularly rough move, panting as she tried to balance this task with feedings and generally helping her mother take care of the infants.

Tris was the biggest she’d ever been. She felt like a whale. She lay in bed fidgeting all night as sleep evaded her. And it wasn’t as though she had been well-rested from the start. Her mother was one person, and could only do so much. Tris had to attend to her children almost constantly.

In the morning, Adam returned, just as he had assured. Tris’s heart sank at seeing him. She struggled to her feet, hips tight and aching. She couldn’t believe how heavy she was. She felt like she had a beach ball attached to her.

And she was getting so close to her due date. She felt like she could drop at any moment, and didn’t want to be on her feet, with the pressure heavy and low, almost pushing.

“Your medication,” said her mother, pushing a fresh bottle of pills into Tris’ hand. “For after these ones are born.” She lightly touched Tris’ heaving stomach.

The bottle of pills disintegrated. Tris watched in shock as it narrowed to nothing, until shining specks were trickling from her fist and onto the floor. She opened her hand and stared blankly at her empty palm.

“That won’t be necessary,” said Adam.

Tris looked up into the magician’s stony eyes. Tris wanted to yell at him. To demand to know why? And yet she clamped her mouth shut and restrained herself from making things worse. She was already in a substantial mess as it was.

Adam waved his hand in a lazy motion and all Tris’s luggage disappeared. “Let’s go,” he said with weariness.

Adam, inexplicably, had a van. Loading the kids in was a complicated process. Eric was politely curious, but Andrew wouldn’t stop sobbing. The five newborns just wailed and fretted. Adam watched them all blankly, as though he had conveniently gone deaf. Tris’s mother gave her one more hug before Tris struggled her way into the passenger’s seat of the vehicle.

Her head was throbbing, and she felt absolutely terrified. But she tried to be calm and remain aloof. She could do little now in her advanced state, but once she gave birth, maybe she could fight this. “What did you do to them yesterday?” Tris asked as Adam pulled out of the driveway. Tris nodded to her stomach.

“I made them slightly larger,” Adam responded, not taking his eyes off the windshield. He reached over, Tris tensing as Adam stroked her belly. “You are the first person to bear for me in generations. I do enjoy seeing you so fertile.”

Tris’s shirt seemed to tighten, sliding upwards over her mass. Tris reddened and tugged it down. Belatedly, she realized she had suffered another growth spurt.

“…and you are rather small,” Adam continued.

“I have to give birth to them!” Tris snapped, aggrieved. She hugged what she could of her belly, as though this could protect her from Adam’s continued intervention.

Adam withdrew his hand, now resting both on the steering wheel. “Then perhaps you should know better than to defy me.”

Tris swallowed. “I haven’t—” But she stopped herself. Struggled to control her temper amidst the reeling hormones, the growing panic, and the uncomfortable pressure that throbbed in her massive abdomen. “Will I—be able to see my mother?” she managed.

“Eventually,” said Adam.

“How long will I have to keep going through pregnancies?”

Adam didn’t answer.

-

Adam’s residence was a sumptuous, if rather dated, mansion, about an hour outside of the city. There was a full staff that swooped down on the children and carted them off before Tris could get a word in.

Tris reddened. She could feel her fear and indignation swelling, but she breathed through it. They’ll be fine.

She was exhausted anyway. She allowed Adam to usher her inside, only then realizing that her stride had devolved to a snail’s pace. She supposed she hadn’t had to walk much at her mother’s quaint residence, and also, that she had barely tested her mobility since the couple of Adam-induced episodes of growth she had experienced.

“God, they’re heavy,” Tris breathed out, finding herself stopping, while her left hand unconsciously took a firm grip of Adam’s arm. She wasn’t in labor and wasn’t at term, but she felt almost like she could start pushing them out. She didn’t know whether to clench her thighs or squat down. They were getting too big for her. She felt like they could drop at any moment. Tris gasped out, pouring sweat, “I—I think I have to—”

“You’re not even at term,” Adam interrupted. “Not for another three days. You will not risk our children by having them prematurely.”

Tris was pulled along on shaky legs, belly rocking with every step she took. She was led to a dining room with an expansive mahogany table. Adam helped her into a chair with a gentleness Tris had not anticipated. She spread her legs to make room for her stomach, arching as much as she could manage, her belly pressing into the edge of the table. Her breasts were bloated full, and her nipples pulsed. “Have to nurse,” she managed wearily. This was usually the time that she fed Nina and Tommy.

“My staff will handle the feedings for now,” said Adam firmly. “I want you to focus on these.” Then he cradled Tris’s belly with clear adulation. Tris felt her pulse quicken. She simultaneously wanted to push into the contact and recoil.

Adam took a seat beside Tris, so that Tris was at the head of the table, and Adam was adjacent.

“We will take dinner now,” Adam told her, and as he did, several servers strode inside, lowering beverages and platters, then portioning food onto dishes.

“I’m not hungry,” said Tris breathlessly, now partially slumped in her chair. “Just tired.”

“Nonsense,” said Adam. He picked up Tris’s fork and cut a small piece of steak off her plate. He lifted it up to Tris’s lips. Tris hesitated, then opened her mouth.

It tasted exactly the way it looked: delicious. The flavor was rich and savory. Tris’s eyes flicked down to her plate. Everything was so exquisite, so refined. She thought if she could name the dishes, they would have an international influence. The plates were well decorated and garnished, the portions small, still steaming on the plates.

Adam lifted another serving of steak and Tris opened her mouth to receive it. She knew she did it to be obedient, but there was something extremely strange about being fed by the stranger. Tris worked her way through the rest of the meat, some vegetables, and a fancy grain. When she was finished she felt full and drowsy. A waiter came to pick up the empty dish only to replace it with another.

“That was the first course,” Adam answered Tris’ surprised expression. “My children shall not want for anything.”

Tris gulped. “How many servings…are there?” she managed.

Adam did not respond, he simply cut into the pork on Tris’s plate.

Tris accepted each bite as it was presented. She ate and ate, even beyond satiation. She managed to work her way through another two plates of fancy food, each made with a different style and taste, like a variety of chefs had participated in their creation. She felt uncomfortably full, her belly tight and hot. But she refused to show weakness or complain. She met each fork with parted lips, even as her eyelids drooped and her stomach lurched.

A cool hand rested against the front of her abdomen. A thumb stroked against her swollen belly button. Tris’ gaze lowered to Adam’s fingers, as the magician caressed Tris’s belly almost lovingly, even as it shuddered and ached. She was so full, somehow in a different way than she was with the pregnancy. She felt like she could burst all the same. “I c-can’t take anymore,” she admitted weakly.

“You can,” Adam disagreed. He dabbed at Tris’s lips with a napkin, and wiped under her eyes, at which point Tris realized she was crying again. She felt so pathetic and weak.

Angry more at herself now, Tris took in another several bites. Somehow she even managed to eat her way through the rest of the plate, but was rewarded with a potent surge of nausea. Her hands flew to her mouth and she struggled against it.

Adam shot her a disturbed look.

“Mm—sorry,” Tris forced out, as she breathed, truly struggling not to retch.

“This is…disappointing,” Adam said. “You will do better in the future.”

Yet Tris could hardly conceive the notion of having to do this again.