Delayed, Part 2
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Summary: A woman makes web cam videos, and is paid to display her pregnancy online. The bigger she grows, the more money she makes. She even takes drugs to delay labor to maximize her income, and promises her clients that she will give birth naturally, and livestream it. People even start placing bets on the day she’ll finally give birth. The woman pushes herself to her absolute limit, and finally can’t hold her babies in any longer. She makes the final arrangements and gets ready to induce herself, when suddenly, at the very last moment, an anonymous follower offers her $10,000,000 to put off her delivery for another month, and sends an advance of $1,000,000 just so she knows he’s serious. Contains: Female: pregnancy, belly expansion, breast expansion, and more.
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Penelope didn’t think she could hold her babies in a moment longer. Birth was something she had done a couple times before and she was sure she could handle it.
She had waited out the requisite two weeks for the labor-delaying drug to wear off and it was finally time. Though the idea of giving birth to overdue triplets outside of a hospital was daunting, Penelope was far from alone. She had hired a doula to see her along through the birth in case there were any complications. In addition to that, she had her livestream going. Her hundreds of thousands of subscribers would be watching her through every step of the process, adding their support, among the less innocent commentary.
“God,” said Penelope, breathing heavily, watching her belly heave. She was seated on her bed, hands leaning back on the mattress to support her. She was wearing a short silky babydoll lingerie piece and a white lacy thong. The babydoll piece was undone at the bottom so that it pulled apart to reveal her huge, heaving globe. Lingerie probably wasn’t the most practical wear for giving birth, but Penelople was a business woman and people-pleaser. She would give her fans what they wanted.
The low neckline felt tighter on her breasts than it had when she had first tried the set on a week prior, and Penelope knew her breasts were decently engorged. She admired the plump DD-cups, and the way her distended nipples bulged visibly against the silk. Her body was beyond ready to have these babies.
The doula was a matronly woman Maeve. She looked decidedly apprehensive as she regarded Penelope’s sheer size. Penelope had admittedly fibbed and claimed she was only a couple of days overdue rather than two full weeks. She hadn’t wanted to risk of being rejected as a client because of the high-risk nature of her condition. Penelope had researched Maeve well, and had confidence in the older woman. Maeve had been doing this for decades. Penelope was sure Maeve was up for the challenge.
Maeve pressed her lips in a thin line, any uncertainty determinedly withdrawn from her face. She gave dubious looks to Penelope’s get up, and hadn’t even noticed the camera directed to the bed. There was a filter set up that would blur out Maeve’s face. “Are you sure you want to wear that?” said the older woman.
“Yes,” responded Penelope, rather breathless from the nerves and the strain. “It makes me feel um—pretty. Empowered. It makes me feel comfortable, and I know it will help me through this.”
Maeve couldn’t argue with that. “Good. You’re going to need all the strength you can get.”
Penelope nodded and tried to smile.
Maeve went into her medical bag and withdrew a bottle of what looked like cough syrup. She unscrewed the cap and handed it to Penelope. “It’s time, Penelope. Past time, don’t you think? This is an herbal tonic that will help induce labor. Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.” Maeve nodded for Penelope to consume the syrup.
“Right. Okay,” said Penelope dazedly.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to call anyone?”
“It’s fine.”
Brad was presently at work. He was the stock manager at the local supermarket. Penelope had chosen this day particularly because she knew it was Brad’s longest shift of the week. The store wasn’t far and she could have summoned him easily, but the fewer people involved, the better. She didn’t need another figure hoovering over her, blocking her from from the camera. She didn’t need her subscribers to get annoyed or jealous of Brad. And she didn’t want to deal with Brad getting all blubbery and emotional, disrupting the tone of things when her viewers were watching the birth for decidedly more amorous purposes.
Vaguely, she wondered if Brad would accept her claim that everything had happened “so fast” that it had been impossible to contact him before all three of the babies were born. She didn’t consider Brad dumb per se, but he was certainly gullible. He never questioned things, at least not persistently. It was why he was the perfect guy for her, even if there were occasionally…things to be desired. Intellectual stimulation, for a start.
In the end, there was nothing fast about delivering triplets. She would be lucky if she finished before Brad returned at midnight.
“You’ve given birth several times before,” Maeve noted, at seeing Penelope’s hesitancy. Maeve reached down, her calloused hand cupping the underside of the large mound. “They’re sitting low and heavy on your pelvis. Should expect a fairly rapid labor, no more than a few hours.”
At the end of her last pregnancy, Penelope had barely made it to the hospital before she couldn’t fight the urge to push anymore. She had been very close to giving birth in the car. Penelope said as much, and Maeve nodded.
“It’s a good thing,” Maeve said. “You’ll have more energy than someone going through days of contractions.”
“It’ll still be hell,” Penelope couldn’t help noting, bringing the tonic to her lips. This pregnancy had been easy and profitable. She had just forced herself not to think about the labor, even as she swelled up huge and overdue. She was not looking forward to the pain, the strain, the pressure, heat, and tension. The sweat, tears, and other bodily fluids. But it would all be over soon, preferably before Brad got home. “Bottoms up,” she muttered, beginning to tip the bottle to her lips.
Across the room, her computer made a dinging noise that was followed by a fruity melody that distracted Penelope, causing her to lower the still-full bottle.
The melody was an alert that corresponded to a particularly large donation—one that exceeded one-thousand dollars. Those didn’t occur very often. “J-just a second,” said Penelope, causing Maeve’s face twist in irritation. Penelope handed Maeve the undrunk tonic and worked her way to the edge of the bed, where she paused, drew a breath, and heaved herself up with effort.
Cupping her huge orb, Penelope waddled her way over to her laptop. The least she could do was thank the donor promptly. Perhaps he had submitted the donation just to enjoy the sight of her having to struggle her way off the bed and subsequently waddle to the computer. Everything was being broadcast live, and some of her viewers found a certain pleasure in disrupting her, inconveniencing her, or watching her struggle. It was just another part of the appeal.
Penelope eased herself onto her desk chair, and as she looked at her latest donation, she was certain it was a mistake. She blinked a few times then clicked on it to verify the details. The payment was fully processed, and the donor had forfeited any option of a refund. A user named MakeYou97 had just submitted a payment of one million dollars. Penelople was certain that it was more money than she had earned in her life, altogether. She was stunned.
Rather numb, she selected the user and opened a chat box. Hello, she typed. This is PennyPreg. I just wanted to thank you for your donation and verify that it wasn’t done in error. It is extremely…generous.
MakeYou responded almost immediately with, My pleasure, and, It’s only a start. I would love to make a special request.
Penelope was a little flustered. The payment had been legitimate. She even had the payer’s consent on record. And the money was everything. She could fix up the house, buy things for the kids, even get started on college funds. The fact that MakeYou97 would imply that he was willing to send her even more money was just overwhelming. Request? she wrote, rubbing at her tight, lurching midsection. Her heart was racing. There was a long pause. She half-thought she had imagined the whole thing.
And then MakeYou wrote, I will send you an additional 9 mil if you put off the delivery another month.
“God,” Penelope breathed. This was the craziest request she had ever gotten. He wanted her to hold her two-week-overdue babies inside of her for a whole additional month? It was insane. It was dangerous. It was just too personal of a request to be anywhere close to acceptable.
Yet it was a lot of money. Nine-million-dollars, and she could hardly fathom the one million she had already been sent. If Penelope stayed pregnant a little longer, she would be extremely wealthy. A multi-millionaire. And it suddenly didn’t seem all that hard. She was overdue already. Delaying labor was really just a matter of inaction.
“We really have to get started,” said Maeve, drawing Penelope out of her reverie.
Penelope absently nodded as she continued to stare at the computer screen. She took a gulp. “I’m fine here.”
“What?” said Maeve.
Penelope wheeled herself around in her chair, grimacing at the way the arms dug into her swollen flanks. “Sorry Maeve. I’ve had a change of heart. I don’t need your services right now.”
“You’re not giving birth?” Maeve asked. As Penelope nodded, Maeve looked at her as though she was insane. “This isn’t right. It’s dangerous. You have to give birth, you’re already pushed past your limit.”
“I’m fine,” said Penelope as firmly and calmly as she could. She could feel the hot sweat rolling along her nape. “You can leave.”
Maeve opened her mouth looking as though she wanted to argue some more. But then, as though realizing the futility of it, she just clamped her lips and shook her head. There was obviously no precedent for this, and the doula had been rendered speechless. Maeve began to gather up her supplies, throwing Penelope uneasy glances all the while.
Penelope watched Maeve leave and heard the front door snap shut behind her. She resisted the urge to call the doula back. Instead she breathed heavily, feeling so full and tight, already tight enough to pop.
Penelope turned back to her computer screen and took it off mute. Giving a short laugh that she suspected sounded terrified, she said, “Change of plans. Looks like I have some refunds to issue.”
-
The refund process was messy and exhausting. She had to issue thousands of them, and somehow managed to convince her platform to automate the process (at a lofty fee, of course). In the end, Penelope lost almost forty-grand. Of course, that was nothing compared to the one-million she had earned from one single user.
Waiting for the money to clear into her bank account was both nerve-wracking and thrilling. Going to the bank, and withdrawing some of it, actually holding the cash, just brought her new fortune to another level of realness. This was life-changing. Her condition, her online fame, her three big babies packed in her belly, were completely changing her life, and all for the better.
Penelope felt lighter—mentally, at least—and couldn’t help smiling despite her constant state of fluster. The day following the million-dollar payment proceeded like normal, but Brad couldn’t help noticing how cheerful she was.
“Just excited,” she claimed when he inquired, rubbing her orb.
Brad melted a little. “I am too,” he said, as he gave her a peck on the lips.
Just twenty-nine more days.
When Richard came to pick up or drop off the kids, he gave her looks of increasing alarm, but he refrained from commenting, for the most part. Part of the reason she and Richard had not worked out was because they both had strong personalities. Had they still been together, he would have seen through her bullshit easily. He knew her better than anyone else.
Brad, on the other hand, was an opposite extreme. Painfully passive. He was clearly concerned, and he would often look for subtle ways to inquire about when the delivery would be.
“The babies will come when they’re good and ready,” Penelope snapped, watching him flinch like an animal being trained against bad behavior. “I want everything to be natural. I’m not taking those horrible induction drugs.” On the contrary, she had resumed her usage of the labor-delaying drugs, and Brad had no idea.
Her breasts were swollen DDs that sat high on her chest, nipples erect and tingling. Her ass was a round, plump mound that bulged out behind her. Her belly was a swollen dome that felt overwhelming on her narrow body. It was steadily growing wider than the rest of her, and whenever it tensed or lurched, she went red, and gasped, and had to grab onto the nearest fixed object for leverage.
Her maternity clothes were all tight on her, and the shops had run out of larger sizes. She often wore leggings and formfitting dresses that stretched taut over her, her belly positively throbbing for release. She rubbed the mound constantly, trying to get the triplets to calm down. Just a little longer, she would tell herself.
