Addicted

Note: This is a story-prompt for skyshield.

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Initially, Emma had been frustrated to learn that she was pregnant. Between her and John’s busy work schedules, they barely had time for themselves, let alone a child. And the thought of her athletic body growing fat and rounded, admittedly, disgusted her a bit.

But she had to go through with it. John had always wanted children, and she just couldn’t bring herself to end the pregnancy when she had both the means and the support system to go through with it.

As Emma grew, strangely, she didn’t mind the sight of her belly swelling as much as she had thought that she would. The pressurized sensation that chronically occupied her was actually rather pleasant. She watched her breasts come to bulge out of her bras, and her belly grow to the size of a melon, until her painful—but intimate—birth. She insisted to John that she wanted another.

John was surprised, but happy to oblige. Within a month, she was again with child.

One evening, Emma paced the bedroom as she rocked her infant daughter in her arms. At three months, Emma was already beginning to show. She hadn’t told John that she had slipped a fertility pill out of her father’s drug safe during their last visit to the man’s estate. And that morning, her doctor had reported some exciting news—she was carrying triplets!

Emma was in a state of bliss. For some reason, she wanted to see herself get bigger. And month by month, her belly swelled, until she looked as though she had a basketball under her shirt. But she grew even more, feeling the three babies kick and squirm inside her. When she was finally at term, she had put on a good amount of weight. The babies were big, her beach ball-sized belly heaving with her heavy breaths. And yet Emma had no desire to relinquish the feeling. Her physician suggested induction, but Emma insisted on going into labor naturally. Soon Emma was two—three weeks overdue! She was constantly flushed, panting, and popping out of her clothes. Perched above her belly, her full breasts leaked regularly. Around the office, her coworkers would stare at her mass in shock.

The labor was long and painful, and she could barely get them out—but she managed. Soon she had three more healthy babies.

Overwhelmed by taking care of four infant children, John seemed definitive about not having anymore. He had even scheduled a vasectomy, to Emma’s horror. She only had a small window of time.

Still somewhat bloated from her last pregnancy, Emma went about her scheme. Over the weekend, she returned to her physician-father’s estate, and again raided his stock of pharmaceuticals. Then when John was at work one day, she took a needle, and punctured several tiny holes in each of his condoms.

In the hours before John’s return home, she gulped down a handful of fertility pills. She then poured a glass of wine, within which she dissolved a Viagra.

When John got home, she got him to drink the tainted glass of wine, and a second one for good measure. Knowing how poorly John held his liquor, Emma launched herself at him. At his feeble resistance, she offered him mumbled assurances that she was on birth control. She had been pointedly been taking a white pill every morning. What John didn’t know was that they were actually just more fertility drugs.

John succumbed to her pleas, so weak to her, that he even decided to forgo wearing one of his condoms (defected that they were!).

In only a month, Emma looked six months pregnant.

She was growing startling fast, and enjoying every minute of it. She could feel her body swelling more every day. By month two, she looked nine months along, and was waddling! By then, even Emma was getting overwhelmed! And often, she could feel John staring at her mound.

By the third month, Emma’s belly was round and throbbing. She was larger than she had been the day she had delivered the triplets!

She could barely waddle into her OBGYN appointment, her body straining to support her massive mass. Her small hands gripped at her belly, not that it helped. She had insisted on going to the appointment alone. John seemed petrified as it was.

Her doctor was stunned at seeing her. He was even more stunned when the sonogram revealed a record total of eleven embryos!

Emma was still panting, sweating, and red, just from the effort of getting onto the medical table. She rubbed her hands on her pulsing mound. “E-eleven?” she said.

The doctor insisted on selective removal of at least six embryos. He wanted to proceed with it immediately—that day.

Frowning, Emma told him that she would think on it, though she would not. Somehow, she heaved herself up, the doctor staring as she wobbled off.

Huffing and puffing, Emma caught a large cab back to her home. Her massive belly preceded her as she navigated it through her front door. Her round EE-cup breasts heaved up and down, bulging through the buttons of her custom-made blouse.

John came out from the kitchen, balancing a baby in each arm. He gulped and gazed down at her mound. “How many?” he asked shakily.

And Emma breathed, “Five.”

It might not have been logical to lie to her husband. He was bound to find out the truth soon enough.

But just watching him try to digest the concept of quintuplets seemed a lot for him. For the time being, Emma wanted to savor her fleeting months of bliss.

She managed to waddle her way to the couch, where she eased herself down. “Nrrghhh…” she grunted, holding her belly as it tightened, stretching her blouse farther as her belly button throbbed. She knew full well that she looked as though she was about to burst. And yet she loved every moment of it.

“Emma…” said John nervously.

“Honey, be a doll, bring me a few sandwiches.” She lightly patted her mass.

John gulped again, and bustled off.