Play stupid games: win stupid prizes
(Remember the Twenty-Five Loads story? This is the sequel you asked for. TW for ftm breeding, pregnancy, light misgen etc. Always check op tags.)
You’re perched at the edge of the bath, two feet on the ground, doubled over and trembling. In one hand, limply, you hold the pregnancy test you picked up months ago when your visits started, for nothing more than just in case. Buying it had been part of the rush.
You’re stuck between so many different and immediate courses of action. Do you text your parents? Phone a clinic? Reach out to a friend? How do you explain? How can you explain? Do you cancel work tomorrow? Take more T again? You had plans tonight - fuck, do you drink? Maybe just calm down and do another test, to be sure?
The thoughts are racing around your head and you start to feel sick. You gulp in air as the truth pounds at your chest: There’s a human growing inside your uterus and you don’t even know whose it is.
It was at that sobering realisation when you finally texted me - of all people. The one who put it there.
Within the hour, you’re at my doorstep. I bundle you into the bedroom, like always.
You’re still trembling. Standing in the middle of the room as I hang your coat up. You’re asking me what to do. It was a game, you didn’t realise your body could actually do that. Even after skipping t. What should you do?
I shush you, quietly, taking a step forward, and lean into your ear.
“Relax darling. Just for now. First, calm.”
I plant a kiss on the soft skin of your neck as my hands gently find their way under your clothes. I run my fingers across your torso, hiding the smirk that curls my mouth between your neck and shoulder: you still leave your binder at home for me. Even in situations like this.
The situation I have been waiting for.
My touch prizes from you a contented, but shaky sigh, and you try not to think of what’s going on inside of you.
You feel my hands at your hips.
I turn you around, and pull you against me in front of the bedroom mirror.
You watch my thumbs draw little circles at your hips - have they started to widen? My lips meet your ear again, enough to muffle the thought.
Your lips tremble. You thought it was a game.
“Oh sweetheart, everything is going to be just fine..”
One hand begins hoisting the front of your t shirt up, exposing your belly. The other hand trails down to your thighs, and into your underwear.
You feel my fingertips meet your swelling clit. Circling gently, I drink in the noises you make.
For the first time since the test, you start to feel good. You allow your head to rest back against my shoulder as your pussy throbs.
“Someone’s sperm has taken. That means there’s an egg in you that’s been fertilised by cum, just like you wanted..”
I smear the rapidly increasing wetness from your pussy around between your soft thighs.
“…and it feels good, doesn’t it?”
Slowly, you nod. It does.
“Look at yourself in the mirror.”
You try to focus your gaze on your reflection. My free hand moves to your belly whilst the other continues to work your pussy. Still with gentle force, I cup your lower abdomen, then stroke it.
“You’re going to get bigger here, and wider too, it’s going to feel amazing.”
You bite your lip and let out a moan.
“That’s right, sweetheart. It really is. And these lovely breasts of yours -“
You watch as the warmth of my touch moves to your round, soft chest.
“ - they’re going to grow too. They should start leaking soon, just like they were made to. You’ve made yourself so soft and fertile over these past few months, it was inevitable this would happen after I pumped cum into you. How does it feel to be pregnant at last?”
You take a long look at your delicate body in the mirror. You imagine everything growing. You can see my hand working your pussy - your pregnant pussy - fuck - through the fabric of your now soaked underwear. Your mind is hazy. It does feel good to be bred. The other concerns at the periphery come creeping back.
You say, tenderly, that it feels scary.
“Shhhhhhh, darling. There’s nothing to be afraid of, this is what you were made to do. And we have been working hard to get you there, haven’t we?”
“Working so, so hard, like the good girl you are.”
You feel my fingers slip inside you. You gasp, my grip tightens around you, pulling you against me.
“There’s no going back now”
As I talk, I work my fingers in and out of your desperate hole.
“Am I making your little pussy feel nice? How about I go faster? Yeahhh, that’s right, there’s my girl. It’s because you like this so much that we had to get you bred. Taking all that T would have been a waste, I promise. You’ll be back, too, once you’ve pushed this one out you’ll be craving it again before long.”
My fingers are pumping into your pussy now, your belly and tits are still exposed as I clutch you tightly against me in front of the mirror. You imagine the scene three months from now. Six, even. You feel so good you almost drool from the pleasure, barely standing, limp, letting me play with your body, like always.
Except this time, being pregnant - finally, inevitably, pregnant - it adds a whole new layer of warm, shooting pleasure to our session. You want to grow. You’ve been fertilised and you want to get bigger. I’m growling similar encouragement into your ear.
You watch yourself cum, hard, crying and pleading with me as the orgasm wracks your entire body.
I do your trousers up for you, turn you back around, and kiss your forehead and then your belly.
In a daze, you nod and smile. So much better, you tell me.
“Any more doubts. Come and see me. I’m just a text away. You’ll be just fine.”
You grab your coat and head out into the world from my apartment, shyly waving me goodbye until next time. Despite the weight growing in your uterus, you feel lighter. You don’t know how you’ll navigate it but it doesn’t matter. You’re bred. You’re pregnant. You’re going to swell and give birth but it’s going to be fine.
It’s what you were made to do.
