Now for a new pair... Kayla and Ron are both at college, studying for the same major, in the same class, Art. And paired together for the final project of the semester.
One must pick the subject, and the other must paint it. The challenge is that they must choose an unusual canvas to draw on. Ron picked her body. Urging that body art would certainly give them an advantage. Volunteer Kayla to be the model because he was the one who must paint.
Now if he did it willingly or not, that could be our decision, magical brushes from the professor, or purchased from an antics store. Perhaps magic exists in Ron's family and he just quietly uses it on her.
Kayla was arrogant but smart, she was a creative soul that didn't really keep her mouth shut, she had narrow hips and a big smile to match, her kindness really showed up for people around. Swampped with student debt and just urging to get this college thing done. Get a job, sell her works, and watch one day as they're introduced in a gallery, that was her dream. Nothing would get in the way, not even the smart talk who sucked all the attention and energy from everyone. That was ron, and she couldn't wait to get done with his project. Even when his suggestion came around.
He chose to draw on her belly, her flat toned one at that, adding decorations to her arms, the theme all centered around nature, kids playing in the field, kids filling her womb slowly but surely, stretching the painting as its drawn. Slowing down and picking up speed whenever the brush is near, weather next to her belly, or between her fingers. The babies grow.
Multiples are a guarantee, not only for the many children depicted in the piece, but for the fact that ron is the oldest of seven, and two trios came after him. Three sisters came first, and on the next birth two brothers and a sister. But his dad had a successful company, and money wasn't a lack, Ron was spoiled rotten. A little smitten inside. He had an attitude of a bully. Popular as well, but Kayla managed to sneak into his heart or so she thought.
His true cruelty came the last night, when she was fighting contractions during an exam, and he scared off the teacher to get help, his true intentions were dark, he locked the door right after, and brought his paint out, capturing the perfect moment of the night. And urging the model to not even budge. If she would, he'd bring her back to the start.
(all cheerleaders, described in this story are seniors and are 18+, so are you)
You’d been with your fair share of girls, as a star athlete with a handsome face, a nice body and a charming personality that lasted just long enough to get what you wanted. But the varsity cheerleaders were tough to convince. You’d been trying for a couple of months to get at least one of them into bed, and it would be a big notch on your belt.
There was ten of them, all so perfect yet so uniquely hot. Unfortunately, they were surprisingly…prudish. You just couldn’t get even one of them to drop their panties for you. It was getting frustrating, you just wanted to fuck a varsity girl so bad. You knew it would be so satisfying to make them putty underneath you.
One night you’d been aimlessly browsing the web, and you found something you hadn’t expected to. An add for a fertility pill. Supposedly it guaranteed pregnancy, with a high likelyhood of twins, even triplets. It was a weird thing to find advertised to yourself, a young man, but something about it intruiged you:the pictures of women with massively swollen bellies, hands on them in such a way it seemed like they ached from being so full.
Tis I, Rambles. I'm on a roll y'all, I take an empty queue/inbox situation as a challenge apparently lol
~
U-Pick Melons, Take the Next Right!
The cheerful sign was a bright pop of colour on an otherwise quiet country road. The winding driveway was long and scenic, eventually arriving at a picturesque farmyard. Tractors and wagons loaded up guests and drove them out to the fields, cheerful young women helpfully pointing out what fruit was where from their seats.
"Cantaloupe? Hop on this wagon, that's where we're heading! Watermelon is over there with the blue tractor, have fun! Honey dew will be right back, Anna's just taken a full wagon out."
Maggie drove the cantaloupe tractor, and once she had a full load, she put the tractor in gear and headed down the lane way. It was one of the farther fields, but it was beautiful scenery, and no one ever complained.
When they arrived, Maggie stood up and stepped onto the wagon, a bucket in one hand. "All right folks! You can either have the one hour or the twenty-four hour special. I'll give you the right seed as you hop off."
One by one, everyone filed off and got their seed. Most first-timers choose the one-hour, but a few familiar faces eagerly took the twenty-four seed.
Turning towards the field, Maggie surveyed the acres of sprawling vines, shade umbrellas, and lawn chairs. "Go ahead and get comfy! You've got a few minutes to get to a vine."
People dispersed among the plants, choosing a chair and shade. Once everyone was settled, Maggie reached over and opened the irrigation hydrant. It wasn't the plants or the people that were magic, but the spring that the farm sat atop of. As water trickled from the lines on the ground, its magic seized the plants and wakened the seeds just consumed. Vines trembled and lifted from the earth, seeking the seed within the nearest person. Clothes were quickly nudged aside, each vine seek the navel to attach to.
Maggie smiled and leaned on the wagon as a chorus of gasps and moans sounded through the field as each vine connected. it didn't matter man or woman, the magic would allow anyone to grow a melon of their choosing in their gut and deliver it, perfectly ripe and sweet, in the chosen timeframe. Putting a special twenty-four hour seed on her tongue, Maggie swallowed it with a drink of the magic water from her water bottle. A vine at the edge of the field lifted, zeroing in on her. She lifted her loose, sun-faded t-shirt and sighed at the familiar throbbing warmth of the vine connecting to her.
In the field, people were lifting shirts or sundresses, unbuttoning jeans or shorts as their bellies immediately began to swell. Maggie herself was wearing cut off jean shorts, and opened the fly, rolling the waist so they stayed up. "How we doin' melon-makers? Feeling good so far?"
Another chorus of gasping moans, bellies burgeoning outward as the fruit grew quickly within such fertile guts. Cantaloupes were more modest melons, but they ripened slowly, so while full size would be reached rather quickly, more pleasure was needed to sufficiently sweeten them. They were a great beginner melon, and Maggie's favourite. She was the only girl who could enjoy the twenty-four hour seeds, everything else grew too enormous to carry around while working all day.
Time passed quickly as pleasure ballooned in her gut, the melon growing a belly like a twenty to thirty week pregnancy, depending on the person. Once it had gotten large enough, it would ripen, getting heavier and heavier as it filled with the magic water and sugar. Maggie groaned as it sank deep in her pelvis, stretching her back to acclimate to the weight. People furious rubbed or jerked one out, or did it to each other, pleasured sighs and moans filling the sun-baked field.
By the half hour mark, vines started to drop off the one-hour melons. Different moans sounded, a different flavour of pleasure taking hold as contractions began. People slid out of chairs, hands and or pacing in small circles as the fruit descended. Pants and short were tossed off, and Maggie watched as one by one, people dropped into deep squats and bore down. Gleaming rind began to appear at lips and holes, grunts of effort and the sound of orgasms echoing. It took a great deal of effort to slowly crown the melon. Over the hill, the orgasmic screams of the watermelon-makers were being brought on the breeze.
Almost perfectly at the one-hour mark, melons dropped from bodies into the sandy soil, gleaming and beautifully, perfectly ripe. People panted and caught their breath, admiring the fruits of their labours. Taking another basket off the wagon, Maggie's vine dropped off her navel as people began to trickle back to the wagon. One by one, each melon was rinsed at the hydrant, and put in a string bag to be carried back to the barn to be weighed and paid for. The people with the same seed as herself got a sticker on their bulging, bare bellies, a flat rate for the longer-ripening fruit.
Climbing onto the tractor, Maggie adjusted the seat to accommodate her smooth, rounded belly peeking out from under her t-shirt and fired it up. Using one hand to steer, she rested the other on the taut globe, feeling the smooth, round rind of the melon within her.
Back in the farmyard, people hopped off and headed for the barn. Guests with other fruit mingled, the watermelon-makers positively waddling under the burden of their fruit. Honeydew-makers were sort of intermediate in size, not quite waddling but gait definitely changed with their burdens within.
By the end of the day, many, many melons had been planted and picked or packed home. Maggie stood with all the other girls in the barn at the end of the day, only herself and Ma Wendy still with rounded bellies. Maggie had been on the farm for several years, and had never seen Ma Wendy without a rounded belly, even in the winter. Her loose sundresses were floral and cheerful, and meant she could squat down anywhere and produce a melon without effort or much disruption at all.
"All right, Maggie," Ma Wendy said, offering Maggie a cup of the magic water mixed with something of the older woman's own recipe. "Let's see how this new hybrid has done."
Maggie downed the tonic in one go, feeling the warmth spread rapidly through her. The melon inside her grew far heavier, like it would simply just fall out of her. Quickly pulling off her shorts, her belly tightened with the first contraction. The other girls all watched raptly, wanting to see how Ma Wendy's favourite melon-maker would handle the new hybrid.
One on top of another the contractions came, visibly tightening Maggie's belly and shifting the melon downward into her pelvis and then her birth canal. She moaned and rolled her hips, going to her hands and knees as her lips began to spread under the assault of the glossy wet rind. Gasping with the throbbing pleasure, Maggie pushed with her chin to her chest as the next pang seized her, quickly followed by a gut-wrenching orgasm. Something pulled deep within her, and then the melon had hit its widest point just as the contraction eased. Panting, Maggie's arms trembled as she waited for the next, this a thousand times better than any previous melon delivery before. She orgasmed twice more before the melon eventually dropped onto her discarded shorts.
What was new was the vine still connecting the melon to Maggie, disappearing up into her body. It pulsed for several moments before eventually breaking off and withdrawing back into her body. Sitting up, she looked at Ma Wendy for an explanation.
The older woman rubbed her own swollen belly. "I can't be fertile forever. Maggie's been here longer than anyone else, and I think she will make a wonderful Ma for the next group of girls, when the time comes."
Low in her belly, warmth and pleasure throbbed, and Maggie pressed her hands to her recently-flattened belly as it began to push outward again. Another melon starting, without swallowing a seed or sipping the magic water. Maggie moaned and rolled her hips as it grew faster than any of them had before, her belly rounding out to full size right under her hands.
"You can't be a Ma around here without a round belly," Ma Wendy said by way of explanation. "You'll probably be delivering every twelve hours or so for now, but that time will decrease after a while. And we'll start working on the honeydew and watermelons next."
Getting to her feet, Maggie rubbed her smooth, taut belly. Ma crossed the circle and pulled the younger woman's t-shirt off, replacing it with a more modern cut sundress, loose and flirty.
"There. Ma Maggie, ready to make melons for all to enjoy. Go ahead, girls, take that melon and slice it up. Tell me how the taste compares."
Maggie gasped, pressing on her belly as she felt a distinct pop! within. Before her eyes, her belly bulged outward again, going from a dainty twenty-week size to near full-term.
Ma Wendy grinned and reached out to pat Maggie's belly as it swelled. It sounded just as a juicy, ripening melon should. "Maybe we won't add the other melons just yet, if you're gonna grow such a bumper crop." Maggie gasped at the next pop! sensation within. Bumper crop indeed.
Hello! Sorry for the long wait. This is part 2 of my filling of 171-8: “Request: your first day as a barista at Bump & Grind, the only coffeehouse that serves the Preguccino: a coffee drink loaded with parthenogenesis pregnancy accelerators. You order from triplets to duodecaplets. You get to start your shift with a free drink.” Part 1 is here: https://imagineyourepregnant.tumblr.com/post/183430086436/preggoccino-part-1
***
Beginning your first Preggoccino pregnancy while working your first shift at Bump & Grind seems to be a bittersweet reality.
On the one hand, your dream of being a B&G customer with a growing belly has finally come true, and you’re even getting paid for it. But on the other hand, you’ve always fantasized about your first pregnancy as a self-indulgent, blissful experience: maybe you’re wearing your cutest (and soon, tightest) dress at table by the window; maybe you’re in a bubble bath with your waterproof vibrator; maybe you’re in bed with a sexy admirer or two… but whatever the scenario, you’re fully aware of your body and you don’t let a moment of your fullness go to waste.
It was going to be my first Thanksgiving cooking the turkey. I always knew this task would be passed on to me eventually, I just didn’t expect it to be so soon. My mother had passed a few months ago and as the only remaining female in the family, I had to take on the mantle. I had just hoped I would have filled out more by then. I look at myself in the mirror. At only 18, my frame remained slender, unremarkable. My body would be taking on an entirely new form by this time tomorrow. I took a deep breath, the turkey needed 24 hours from start to finish and if we were going to have the big meal by 4, I needed to get the pill now.
I left my room, walking down the hallway towards the kitchen. Along the way, I passed a family photo from last year’s Thanksgiving. Me, my mom, my brother and my dad. I traced my mom’s image. This must have been taken right before dinner, her belly was huge, heavy. Her hands carefully clasped underneath it, holding it up. She had become so good at cooking the turkey that the process barely seemed to phase her.
There was a new store in the mall, right next door to the Build-a-Bear Workshop, with absolutely no windows and an actual door, rare for a mall shop that was clearly open.
Maria watched the storefront with interest as she ate her lunch. As she watched, three people went in alone and two came out with newborn infants in the 45 minutes she’d been sitting there. The alarm she’d set on her phone went off and she stood with a sigh to clear her table and go back to work. On her way, she noted the name of the store, Build-a-Baby.
***
Maria let out a relieved sigh the second she walked in the front door of her house. She’d been lucky, in some aspects, inheriting the large house and a rather large sum of money from her grandparents when she’d turned 20. The only problem was the fact that the house was far too large for just her all by herself, but all the luck she had on the financial front hadn’t transferred to the family building front so far.
She took a moment to just enjoy not being in public before going to make dinner, sitting down with her computer to do a bit of research.
Build-a-Baby sounded like just the thing she’d been looking for. She printed out the necessary paperwork and filled everything out in preparation for her next day off.
Riley was almost a normal college student. She was a junior. She woke up on the first day of the school year with a grin on her face. She could barely stop herself from skipping to class as she walked through the oblivious freshman and transfer students surrounding her.
She walked through the doors to her favorite class, finding the most comfortable seat among the pillows and beanbags littered across the floor. A freshman came and sat next to her, giving her a small hello.
“Hi! I’m Sarah, this your first time taking the class?”, she asked, and Riley gave a small laugh.
“No, not for me. I take this class every year. It’s my favorite.”, Riley said with a smirk, making Sarah seem to relax into the cushions.
Riley heard the bell ring and the door slammed shut with an audible click and she grinned again. This was the fun part.
