Heavy With Child

Leaning in, he gives you a kiss. "I know you wanted to wait. But you're just a girl and don't know what is best for you. So I am putting a baby in you."

He took it as consent. "I didn't select you for this internship for your brains. I did it for your tits." That should have hurt. It should have stung. But it broke the anexity in you. Your whole life you got good grades. So you could get the right classes in high school. So you could get into the best colleges. Your whole life had grinded you down to please others.

The next day, he pushed you to your knees. Gave you a little slap to gasp then raped your face. You were so wet he made you piss yourself at first. And that became you internship. Him groping your tits. Him using your mouth. Sometimes he made you run his errands. Getting his dry cleaning. His lunch. Those little errands made you as wet as the face fucking.

Then he told you that you would be working over time this weekend. That he needed you at his house to help with a project. When you got there, he gave you a maids uniform and directions to clean from top to bottom. You were scrubbing the floor when he took your virginity. Not asking, just using you to get off. You came so hard he took your panties as a trophy.

This became your world. Until he made you pee on a stick. Then showed you that you were pregnant. "My child won't be raised as a bastard. You will marry me. And my wife doesn't work or go to school. You will resign and dropout. You will focus on keeping my house and raising my children."

Lately I've been thinking about my pregnancy being used by my breeder to humiliate me...

I feel your hands start to explore me, running all over me, slowly so that people don't notice your movements. You slip a hand into my pants while pressing your hardened cock against my ass. I have to cover my mouth with my hands to keep from making a sound as you slide your fingers between my legs and stuff them deep into my cunt without any preamble.

I'm tight, even more so as I clench in surprise, and it makes you grind against me even harder. You finger fuck me for a minute before beginning to unbutton your trousers with your other hand, careful to be quiet. You don't bother undoing mine, forcing them down over my hips with my boxers to expose me.

You force me to bend forward as far as I can, arching my back in order to give you better access to my cunt from behind. I can feel you twitching as you rub your cock between my legs, grinding it against my t-dick and pussy lips. Then you slide your cock head between my folds until it gets caught on my hole.

You're quick to stuff yourself all the way in with one thrust, stretching me so wide I can barely hold back a cry. You don't give me time to get used to your size, beginning to thrust. You have to be careful not to alert anyone to what you're doing, so your thrusts are slow but deep. Each one has your cock pressed tight up against my womb, making me attempt to wriggle away from the pain.

You hold me tight though, enough that I'll have bruises after. The general din of the train and crowd drown out the whimpers I can't contain, and soon you're spilling into me. Feeling you fill me up ends up pushing me over the edge and I clench down on your cock as I come as well. You keep your cock deep in me even after you're done coming, leaning into my ear to mock me about how much I like it. Getting bred by a stranger where anyone could see them.

On that fateful day, I had gone home and cried myself to sleep, trying desperately to forget it all. But even after you were gone, you still managed to leave a little reminder of what you did to me.

When my pants started feeling a bit tight, I told myself it was stress weight, or that my clothes had shrunk in the wash. Then winter rolled around and my clothes kept getting tighter and tighter, and I told myself it was from overindulging during the holidays. I refused to think about why I was only gaining weight around my lower abdomen; instead, I just kept on wearing thick sweaters and puffy jackets to conceal the changes in my body.

But as the weeks dragged on, it became harder and harder to ignore what was happening inside me. I found myself rubbing my belly unconsciously. Then I began to feel a faint fluttering, like butterflies in my stomach, only it became stronger and more frequent as time passed. The first time I saw movement I nearly fainted.

Finally, after spending half an hour psyching myself up, I took off my shirt and looked at myself in the mirror. My belly had swollen into a taut roundness that could only mean one thing: I was pregnant. A complete stranger had taken me against my will and now I had to carry the result for at least four or five more months. I sobbed uncontrollably for hours.

Now I'm back on the train, one hand holding a pole, the other holding my belly. It's crowded, just like it was on that day. Suddenly I feel a pair of arms wrap around my middle and start fondling me. You don't need to threaten me with a knife this time - you know I am so utterly broken that I won't resist.

You reach into my pants and start fingering me, and the only thing I can do is lean into your touch and try not to moan too loudly. Once you've had your fill of that, you pull down my sweatpants - the only pants that fit me now - and shove your cock inside me. I feel you thrusting in time with the rattling of the train car, and just as we're approaching the next stop, you shove yourself in as deep as possible and dump a hot load in me. The sensation is enough to force me to climax.

You keep your cock inside me for several more stops, fucking me at a slow, almost casual pace. I feel your cum and my own arousal dripping down my inner thighs. Finally, after what feels like forever, you pull out. It happens so fast I can barely process it - you tuck yourself back into your trousers, yank up my sweatpants, and disappear into the crowd.

You've won. You got what you wanted: knocking up a stranger with zero consequences. I am left here, clutching the train pole for support, silently sobbing over this latest violation as the baby kicks and squirms in my belly. (Then again, it could be babies. I never got an ultrasound, and with my luck I'm probably carrying multiples.)

Part of me is terrified that no matter what I do or where I go, I can never escape you.

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.