Three days into your foraging trip, you find yourself being fucked by the merman you came across deep in the woods in a sparkling lake that no human has seen in years. You're moaning and panting in pleasure at the way his cock is filling you, only to find out it's not a cock at all when the first egg bumps against your cervix. Breathless with pleasure, something deep within doesn't even want to throw the beautiful merman off you. It's doesn't matter anyway. The first egg slips in with much effort and it should hurt, but it only feels amazing, and more amazing still when the second and third follow quickly.
Dazed, you look up at the ethereal creature spilling his eggs into you, how his brow furrows and his jaw clenches in effort. Fascinated, you trail a hand down his chest to land on his bloated abdomen. Something tells you, harder, and you knead as hard as you can. Soon, it's your belly that's swelling, as the stream of eggs slows, then stops. Yet the mer is still vigorously fucking you, and it soon becomes clear why when his whole body clenches in pleasure and his cock throbs even harder. By the time he pulls out, you're so sensitive it's torture, but the cool lake water soothes you immediately. The merman recovers surprisingly quickly and dives into the lake.
After a good half hour, you realise whatever just happened is over as far as he is concerned. Which would be fine with you, if not for the fact that you look several months pregnant. You clumsily crawl from the shallow water onto the sand, belly heavy underneath you and strangely firm, sticking out from your frame and making you clumsier. Now what?
Back in town, the healer has little sympathy for your newly gravid self. To be fair, at her age she must have seen more weird pregnancies than you can even imagine. She examines your belly none too gently, steps back to consider it, and tells you to just sit it out. Shouldn't take more than a month or two. Maybe three. You leave disappointed, and a little ashamed of your unbridled lust showing so clearly on your body.
Three and a half months later, you arrive back at the lake just in time. It wasn't easy to find it again, or to resist the magnetism between you and the huge, strong, beefy, handsome, kind-eyed, protective mercenary you hired to escort you safely. So difficult, in fact, that just this morning you were being fucked against a tree--one big hand on your belly and one between your legs--when a contraction made you whimper in pain.
He more or less carried you the last hour, as the contractions were minutes apart by now, and there was a weight sitting ominously low in your pelvis. Your waters had already broken, and now the urge to push was rolling over you. You quickly strip naked from the waist down, settle yourself in the shallow end of the pool, steadying yourself against your companions sturdy legs. As soon as you spread your legs and let yourself push, things progress quickly.
The merpeople have undoubtedly heard you splash into the lake and scream in pain, and one or two are keeping a respective distance, catching the newborn merlings as they come out of you and drift away.
It's over almost shockingly soon, and your man carefully lifts you up and tenderly lays you on the sand, cleaning you off a little and making you comfortable as your eyes already start to droop. When you wake hours later, he's lying flat on the sand a few feet down from you, a sheepish smile on his face and a familiar merman between his legs. You scooch down to where they are, still sore, but determined not to miss the show.
Already the merman's hips are bucking furiously, but the smooth skin over his abdomen is still bloated. More than he ever was some months ago, even. You put your lips to your man's ear and place a possessive hand over his womb, making his hips jerk against the merman.
'Jealous, were you? Wanted a belly like mine?'
Maybe you should be furious to find him underneath someone else, while you were recovering from labour no less, but you're mainly aroused. And besides, the two of you hadn't exactly discussed anything.
You increase the pressure on his belly until it's just this side of painful, drink in the delicious sound he makes, and whisper: 'If you think I'm paying for your services after this, you're sorely mistaken. But I might be persuaded to provide room and board. You'll need somewhere to rest soon enough.'
Beyond words by now, he simply nods vigorously.
You briefly imagine a future where you come home every night to a ridiculously pregnant husband. Your arousal is still building, but your abused groin warns you with a twinge not to get any ideas.
Still, there's other ways to participate.
You push yourself onto your knees and drape your front across the merman's back. From there, you can wrap your arms around him and firmly place both hands on his egg-filled belly. He makes a strange little sound in return, which you remember to be his 'about to start shooting eggs' signal. You rub and knead as the men underneath you moan and whimper.
By the time the merman swims off again, your man's formerly muscle-bound belly has grown into a perfectly smooth dome, much bigger than you were.
Listening to his laboured breathing and protesting belly, you longingly imagine what other egg-laying creatures these wilds might harbour.
