Rapid preg, but preceded by hours if not days of ominous symptoms.
A feeling of unease, a little bloating, restlessness, simmering arousal.
Then a few stabs of pain, sudden loss of appetite, a sickening need.
And just when it feels like the worst has passed, a foreboding rumbling inside.
It comes from deep inside, but can be felt through the skin. Heard and seen even, when right up close.
The attention, the touch, feels good, but before that feeling can be acted on, the growth starts.
Within minutes, there's an obvious bulge just below the navel. Not much later, it's grown into an undeniably pregnant belly. Three months of gestation pas in thirty minutes. Something is quickening inside, but it's hard to focus with the intensifying waves of pleasure.
It soon becomes clear that there is nothing to be done but sit down and strap in for the ride, hands cupping the swell, head thrown back in ecstasy. In an hour, a perfect curve runs from below the chest to just above the groin, punctuated by a navel so shallow it's in danger of popping out. The movement is obvious now, wild and almost constant.
Soon, exhaustion sets in as the belly reaches its full size and subtly changes shape. Whatever's inside isn't natural, isn't right, and tumbles around like a boulder. Muscles flexing in orgasm are cramping up now, spasming, contracting.
What was a flat abdomen a mere hour and a half ago, has grown into an overripe, bulging gut. Whatever's inside jerks arhythmically, threathingly, every few minutes, but is otherwise creepily still.
Then, with a sudden shift, it sits low, low in the pelvis.
And the whole belly seizes up in a contraction that lasts minutes.
Another follows, then another, but nothing happens for excruciating hours.
By the time labour has outlasted the pregnancy four to one, something finally crowns. It emerges between the legs, slippery and purple-black, and doesn't stop emerging. Several feet of smooth, scaly creature coil up on the floor before its tail slips out.
The emptiness it leaves behind feels wrong, like something corrupted.
Hours turn into days turn into years, and the memory becomes a lingering nightmare, a horror story.
Until a bloated belly and a strange need trigger a familiar sense of unease.
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