Imp, Part 6

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Summary: A beleagered and underpaid clerk by day, Lyla is doing the thankless work of at least three people at her job. By night she is an aspiring witch. Well, kind of. She's only ever read about spells and rituals until now, as she decides to summon and bind an imp to her service to help with her staggering workload. At first the summoning ritual seems to yield nothing...until, that is, her belly swells and she unexpectedly births her newly indentured demonic servant from the portal now rooted within her womb. Contains: demonic pregnancies, birth, eventual multiples, lactation, magical shenanigans. Idea submitted by Chel.

This story is a work of fiction. As specified throughout the story, all characters featured in this work are 18 years of age or older.

Previous Chapter

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The T-shirt had virtually become a belly shirt on her. The material was thin and semi-transparent, stretching over the round E-cup jugs that sat high on Lyla’s chest, but going no farther. Lyla’s rounded belly was sticking out, fully exposed. She was a lewd sight, with her damp top and her swollen nipples protruding out, so clearly defined in the material that she might as well have been wearing nothing at all. Thankfully her skirt was stretchy enough to accommodate the recent growth of her hips and backside, though the garment had clearly lost several inches of length.

Rose just stared, looking utterly confounded. It went on for so long, Lyla started to drag herself to a chair.

“What…” Rose trailed off. She lightly shook her head. “Is this real?”

“Rose,” Lyla groaned out. She had just eased herself into a chair when the uncomfortable pressure in her belly surged once again inside of her. Lyla’s breasts quivered as she braced herself, and soon her belly was tensing, pushing and spreading out, advancing a few inches then stopping with a shudder as Lyla grunted, clutching it.

She slumped back, gasping for breath, her abdomen rising and falling with her heavy breathing. Lyla tensed, scrunching her face at a familiar pressure, then a pop of sensation shot through her navel. She cupped her belly button, which was now protruding outward once more. She breathed heavily as she glided her hands over her abdomen, trying to pacify the creature within her, lying in wait until the next episode.

“Fuck,” Rose breathed. She plopped down, using a nearby stool as a perch. “What the hell have you done?”

“I messed up,” Lyla gasped out. “I know. That’s why I need your help.”

Rose held her temples, looking off. She did not speak for a full moment. “Okay…” she said eventually. “Okay.” Rose inhaled and released. “I’ve seen my share of magical mishaps, but this, this is something else.”

“Fair,” Lyla managed between her long, slow breaths of air, her hands continuing to glide over her rounded abdomen. By then, she estimated that she looked as though she was eight months along.

“Wait…what is it that you said you’re pregnant with?” questioned Rose.

“Imp,” said Lyla impatiently, her teeth grit.

“And you said that this has happened before?”

“Three times,” said Lyla, her face red. “I mean — well — there are four imps in total.”

“Gods,” murmured Rose, shaking her head.

“I know,” said Lyla, feeling very flustered and round, and stupid to boot. “What do we do?”

Rose gave a peculiar look. She had gotten up and unearthed an aged book that looked even more worn and dense than Lyla’s grimoire. “You’re lucky I’m feeling charitable. I’m not usually one to clean up rookie mistakes, but you seem on course to completely annihilating the Command of Concealment.”

Lyla might have rolled her eyes had her belly not been roiling and bubbling. It pushed forward with enough force to snap her skirt button, Lyla groaning and clutching it. “Fuhhh…” She panted harshly.

Rose mutely goggled her.

“C-can’t give birth here,” Lyla said in a strangled voice. Her skin was flushed and sleek with sweat, her chest and belly heaving from her forceful breaths. Her thighs were spread, her abdomen perched against them. Her top was damp enough that it was virtually transparent, the thin material pasted against her upper body. Lyla’s breasts felt hot and pressurized as though they were fully engorged. Damp purplish patches had formed on the shirt against each nipple.

It was another moment before Rose managed to tear her eyes away. “Obscene as ever,” she grumbled as she flipped pages of her book. “When do you suppose you’ll be needing to give birth? Based on your size and growth rate, my guess is the next hour or so?”

“Errrgghh!” Lyla arched in her seat as her belly simultaneously shuddered and inched outward, the mound gleaming with sweat. “Hahhh…hahhh…” she panted after the latest bout. She felt so spent, she could hardly hold herself upright. By then she looked overdue. “Every — pregnancy’s — different,” she managed between her gasps for breath. “Imp-possible to p-predict.”

“That’s terribly inconvenient,” muttered Rose, checking her watch. “At least the shift’s almost over. We certainly don’t need an audience.”

“You have to g-get me out of here,” Lyla rasped, gripping the arm of her chair for dear life. This rapid pregnancy was taking a lot out of her and she felt terribly dizzy.

Lyla’s skin was prickling. Somehow she knew that her growth wasn’t nearly over. She cupped the swell with her small, clammy hands. She felt so hot, so full and fertile. The packed heaviness of her body was overwhelming so she just tried to breathe.

“You’re kidding, right?” said Rose dryly. “How exactly do you expect me to smuggle you out of here? You can barely walk and you’re practically bursting out of your clothes.”

Rose did have a point. Lyla gave an unhappy whimper. Her groin was hot and pulsing, feeling engorged and stimulated. Her nerves were alight, her passage twitching. But somehow she knew there was still time. This imp was still brewing.

Lyla fidgeted, her body feeling so uncomfortably awkward and inflexible. “Just—fix—this,” she choked out.

“Giving orders?” Rose had set a pair of spectacles against the bridge of her petite nose. “The entitlement.” She walked over to an enormous pile of books, folders, and files, nearly disappearing from view as she settled into a seat behind it all. Lyla belatedly realized that it was a desk that Rose was now seated behind, the piece of furniture being nearly swallowed up by all the off paraphernalia piled atop it.

“Please — hurry,” Lyla pleaded.

Rose gave a noncommittal wave as she continued to pore over the book — presumably her own grimoire. Soon the room went silent aside from Lyla’s grunts and Rose’s mutterings.

“Never seen someone bungle up a spell so badly…” Rose would say under her breath. “Looks like an overstuffed bliphippomus.”

Lyla did her best to endure the erratic episodes of tension. Sometimes her hands would fumble where they gripped the arms of her chair, or her boots would scuff feebly at the floor. She huffed and puffed, pouring sweat, as Rose coldly ignored her.

The sounds of footsteps approached outside in the corridor. As Lyla tried her best to be still, Rose’s head poked out from behind her piles of books and paperwork.

The knob shook but could not turn. “Why is this locked?” muttered a masculine voice.

Lyla tried but couldn’t hold her breath. She felt as though her belly’s gurgling alone was audible enough for all to hear. She almost wondered if the man outside could hear the pulsations that she felt coursing through her, one after the next. She was nearly certain that her swell was throbbing visibly, like a heart, as her passenger grew and grew.

“Hey, do you have a key?” the man called to someone else.

There was a jingling noise.

Rose stood up, looking stiff with alarm.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Just needed a file. She shouldn’t have locked up yet.” There was a pounding on the door. “Rose, you in there?”

Rose remained silent as she waited. Lyla did her best to breathe quietly.

The man sighed. Soon enough, his footsteps retreated.

“Five o’clock,” murmured Rose as she checked her watch. “This place should be clearing out.”

Lyla weakly nodded.

Her belly was still progressively expanding, now gradually rather than episodically. Lyla felt that it was slowly rising like dough being cooked in an oven. She estimated that she looked overdue with twins by then.

Rose glanced her way then did a double take. “Goodness!”

“Yeah,” Lyla croaked. “It’s bad.”

“Do you usually grow to the size of an elephant?”

“Sometimes,” Lyla responded. “It’s…very random.”

Rose just shook her head. “I need my books.”

Lyla gave a baffled look around the cluttered room.

“My magic books,” Rose elaborated. “We need to get to my house.”

Lyla’s belly chose that moment to release a gurgle that almost sounded like a growl, the mound quivering. Then in gave a long whine and tightened, Lyla arching and groaning.

She had to consistently tug down her top, which was now riding up high enough that it might expose her nipples. “Unnghh,” she moaned, trying to stretch out her sore hips and back. She couldn’t believe what this imp baby was doing to her. She needed to get up. She was just so uncomfortable.

Lyla braced her hands on the arms of the chair, shifting her ass to the edge and her weight against her feet. She grunted and struggled, eventually heaving herself up, and was rewarded with a gloop noise as well as a strange wobble deep in her gut.

Rose stood by watching in morbid fascination, not even moving to aid.

“Mmmgghh…” Lyla hummed, one of her hands pressing the top of her belly and the other pressing the side. She felt an odd conflict of tension within her, pushing in varying directions, and somehow she knew there was more than one inside.

Her skirt was clinging to her, even with the button broken off. She was sandwiched in the tautly stretched material which was rendered a miniskirt by how ill-fitting it had become. Lyla finally registered the extent of her hip and ass growth. She suspected that had she not chosen a thong that day, her underwear would have torn apart.

She gasped for breath, every inhalation seeming to reward her with a prickle of growth. She gripped onto a shelf for balance.

“Fucking hell, you’re massive,” said Rose.

The room felt like it was getting smaller. Lyla made to grab the water pitcher, but her belly hit it first, knocking it over.

“Circe!” Rose cried.

Lyla’s legs fidgeted beneath her as she leaned on the shelf, clutched her belly, and hiccupped. “S-sorry.”

Throwing Lyla an incredulous look, Rose walked over to the door, pressing her ear against it. Hesitantly, she unlocked it and peeked outside. “I think there are still some people here…” she muttered. “I’ll be right back.”

Before Lyla could respond, Rose slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Lyla moaned and leaned harder against the shelf, clutching her pulsating orb and closing her eyes while willing this ordeal to be over. Something lurched.

Gloop

“Fucking imps,” she moaned, rubbing her swollen body.

The door opened, Rose stepping back into the room. “The janitor and that idiot Reese are still upstairs.”

Lyla released an anguished noise, her hands continuing to desperately massage.

“Oh, and Quinn. He mentioned he was looking for you.”

Lyla looked up. Mr. Quinn was her boss.

“I just told him you left early.”

“You’re going to get me fired,” Lyla whined, her belly roaring.

Rose’s lips twitched but she did not apologize or look the least bit remorseful. “I have an idea,” the redhead said.

Lyla’s breasts had finally popped out of her top and she couldn’t find the energy to try to squeeze them back in it. If Rose had a problem with Lyla’s nudity, she didn’t show it. Lyla’s swollen breasts and nipples were left exposed, pale purple fluid trailing down their undersides and onto her belly.

“Are you familiar with…my familiar?” Rose asked.

Lyla choked on nothing, subsequently falling into a fit of coughs. “Are you serious?” she managed. Her cargo felt heavy on her hips, her skin tight as it endured the increasing pressure beneath it, as it prickled and reddened. “I thought that was just a rumor.” Lyla scratched at a spot on her head where the skin felt raised and irritated.

“Oh no,” said Rose huskily. She slowly reached up into her flaming hair, where she withdrew a clip with a glittery beetle ornament. “He’s definitely real, but he tends only to come out in the most dire of predicaments.”

Lyla gulped.

“His essence is paradoxical. He reeks of anti-magic. Perhaps he can be your remedy, given we’re short on time and confined at that.”

“I’ll try anything,” Lyla breathed.

Rose held the hair clip out in her cupped hands as she tilted her face towards the ceiling. She closed her eyes and whispered an incantation so softly that Lyla could barely hear it.

Rose’s palms glowed. Something fluttered against them.

And then the familiar made himself known.

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