i love the idea of laying in bed with somebody knowing i have their baby inside me but not telling them. keeping it my fun little secret. i'll tell them eventually, i think... but right now the thought of having such a big secret and acting like everything is normal as we lay next to each other watching a movie reeeally turns me on.
weeks go by, then a month, then two... i still havent told them. now i'm just playing a game to see how long it takes them to notice. i start wearing baggier clothes, fucking in the dark, politely declining offers to smoke and drink. claiming i'm just on a t-break.
five months pass by before they walk in on me struggling to fit into my jeans. they ask cautiously if i'm pregnant. i'd just look down, shrug, and say "huh... i guess so." like i'm also none the wiser.
I want to be inside you unprotected at your most vulnerable. Hold my hand as I'm thrusting into you. Look into my eyes. It's okay, it's okay. You're allowed to conceive if you want to.
We can do it. We can make a baby. I want you to become pregnant from me. Stay close with me as it happens. We're doing this. This is real. It's happening.
You're vulnerable and it's okay. I am too. Are you ready for this? Just nod if you are. You don't have to say anything. We're doing this together.
Share your fear and your pleasure with me. Show me your arousal as we make a baby. Wrap your legs around me. Hold me in. I'm not going anywhere, don't worry. I'm here inside you.
I'll stay inside you. I'll hold it in. This will work. We can stay like this for as long as you like.
I'm getting close. It's going to happen. We're going to do it. Let's make you conceive together. I'm almost there. It's happening. It's happening. Oh god I'm releasing. Feel me. Focus on it. Do you like that? Tell me how good it feels. You're so vulnerable. I can feel you. It's okay. You can cum again. I'll stay here with you.
i wish pregnancy pacts were like...magically binding contracts. I wish they forged permanent, life-long connections between your wombs.
you make the pact young, probably in middle school or high school, that's when most pregnancy pacts are forged. at a sleepover, you and your friends make a promise that when one of you gets pregnant, the rest will too. you're all young, you don't know any better, the only thing you're thinking about is how fun it would be to have babies at the same time as your friends. it seems like a great idea, none of you will ever have to go through pregnancy alone. you giggle about it a bit, fantasize about what it would be like, discuss baby names, but don't really put much stock in it. pretty soon, you've forgotten all about it.
years down the line, after you've all grown up and mostly gone your separate ways, and you see that one of them has made a pregnancy announcement on social media. you leave a comment congratulating her, and move on with your life. a few weeks later, another posts the same thing. funny coincidence, that two of your old friends ended up pregnant at the same time. you congratulate them and move on. not even a full week after that, two more have announced their own pregnancies, and it doesn't really feel like a coincidence anymore. come to think of it, you've been feeling pretty exhausted lately, your cycle is definitely more than a few weeks late, and that stubborn bloating at the base of your stomach just won't go down.
turns out it doesn't matter what kind of birth control you use, or how careful you are. it doesn't even matter if you never have sex. if one womb in the pact is seeded, the rest are too. it only takes one of you being careless, or selfish, or even unwillingly impregnated, and the rest of you are stuck growing round with child alongside them. There's no way to prevent it, no way to reverse the pact.
you reconnect with all of them and form a group chat to compare bump photos, cycles, and due dates. trying to make the most of a bad situation, you set up maternity photoshoots and schedule sleepovers and spa days. it takes a while to get everyone on board, but eventually you do, though with varying degrees of excitement. you're hoping you can all at least enjoy your pregnancies together like you originally planned when you made the pact at that sleepover all those years ago.
maybe you all go into labor at the same time too, at one of your many sleepovers. or maybe your labors are staggered but you'll always give birth at the same time, so one of you might be left laboring for days while the others nervously wait for their own contractions to hit. either way, you get to share the experience with all of your friends, just like you wanted all those years ago.
for a while, it's nice. fun, even.
but when you're several babies deep, each of you overworked and exhausted, that one friend who "doesn't believe in birth control" sends a photo of her most recent ultrasound to the group chat. your phone explodes with furious texts as everyone berates her for getting you all pregnant again, when you're still recovering from the last baby, but you can only stare in horror at the sight of three distinct shapes on the ultrasound.
Despite the fact that you had months and months to grow accustomed to it, your body still struggles to cope. You can feel the weight pulling down on your spine, pressing into your hips. Shirts that you had bought with the thought that you could never possibly outgrow now struggle to stay over your rounded, domed belly. No matter how much you pull, how far you attempt to stretch the fabric, they still expose a strip of skin around your middle, a smoothed bellybutton, and the reddish stretchmarks that will never fully fade.
It sticks so far out in front of you; there are precious few directions that you can look where your rounded middle does not encroach on your view. Reaching for things on high shelves was never easy, but with this pregnant belly in the way, it becomes nigh impossible. Even just crossing the room comes with a signature waddle, one hand on the small of your back, making the short trip from the couch to the kitchen and back all the more embarrassing. The weight is constant, even when seated, actively pinning you down and threatening to keep you there permanently, rendering you helpless and immobile. Trying to rock yourself up onto your feet allows you to feel just how round it is.
And there are other changes, too. Your breasts have never been larger and their aching is near constant. You can feel them swelling, getting ready to feed the child growing inside you. You haven't yet begun to leak so, day by day, you feel the tightness grow, wondering how much pressure your tits can withstand before milk begins to drip from your nipples. Even those have changed, darkening, thickening, becoming more sensitive. The temptation, the morbid curiosity to suckle on them yourself or at least make an attempt, grows by the day as well.
Pregnancy cravings have also introduced a layer of fat to your entire body, thickening what was there before and making you look softer than you've ever been. You can feel the flab settle in your hips, already widened by the reshaping of your pelvis, as well as your ass. It covers your belly in a protective layer, encouraging further the growth of your breasts. It even finds its way to embarrassing places such as the underside of your chin or the growing pad just above the slit whose needs put you in this mess in the first place.
When you stand in front of the mirror, you don't recognize the person that looks back at you. That must be someone else. Someone whose skin is marred with the signs of growth, carrying the promises of more. Someone whose appetite has made them softer, rounder, heavier. Someone whose hormones have forced their hips to widen, their tits to grow and swell, their middle to bloat with child. It's always staggering when you look down at yourself, hand on your belly, and face the reality of what you've become. Your old body is never coming back. What, will you go to the gym with a newborn to take care of? Once you have someone to feed, the demand will only encourage more milk and require larger breasts to hold it all. Your hips have widened down to the bone. This is who you are now. At a glance, everyone will know: you are a mother.
And you still have eight weeks to get even bigger.
