Calving Signs – part 6

Introduction:
After dinner Terri ran downstairs to call Mark. Or rather, she walked reasonably quickly. In the heels and the short tight skirt it wasn’t very practical or easy to move fast. Bending over was hard, too.
She was worried. Yesterday night, Mark’s conspiracy theory of sexual alteration had seemed bizarre, with maybe a hint of truth somewhere inside. But after today…
“Come on… come on.. pick up…” Terri muttered, tapping the phone with her still-damp nails.
Mark answered on the sixth ring. His voice was like a deep bell, and whenever it rang, it sent shivers down Terri’s excited thighs. She picked up a bottle of nail polish, borrowed from her Mom, and unscrewed the top. Painting her nails would calm her down.
”Mark!” she said, checking her nails. “Thank god! How’re you holding up and stuff?”
“Bad,” Mark admitted. “I’ve been trying to do some internet research to figure out what’s going on, but it’s so slow. How’re you?”
“Worried. Kind of scared,” Terri chimed. Even so, her voice seemed to gush when she was talking to the guy. He was very… trustworthy. She felt safe, talking to Mark. “I did what you asked and kept an eye out for strange things, today. It’s starting to get totally scary.”
She refreshed her nail polish while she talked. Terri had already put a coat on, that morning, after watching her Mom’s pretty fingers work a chef’s knife. Her own had suddenly seemed so dull and ordinary.
Now she liked to watch them glitter and shine while she did chores.
“What did you find?” Mark said.
“Um, okay,” Terri said. Just his voice scattered her thoughts. “There’s two girls and two guys living here, right? Oh! And Pastor Flynn. He’s weird. So Candice, she’s the one with the cute black hair and the yummy legs, okay? And she loves high heels, she’s got like thirty of them in her room.”
“Uh, okay,” Mark said.
“I had to go clean Darrell’s room. That’s part of my chores. He’s like a foreman or something like that. Candice stops me just before I’m about to go in. She says “Terri, why don’t I make sure you get it exactly like Darrell likes it.” Plus she’s wearing this teeny-tiny black skirt and these skyscraper heels.”
She paused. “Do you like big heels, by the way?”
“Sure?” Mark said. Terri made a mental note. She shook her hands to dry the nails.
“At first she lets me work. Then she says “No, no, let me do that,” and readjusts how I made his bed,” Terri said. “Okay, fine. Next, she grabs my feather-duster, just to “show me how to get his desk right.””
Terri shook her head. “I stood there for fifteen minutes while she bounced around the room, cleaning up. And every time she bent over, guess what?”
“What?”
“No panties!” Terri exclaimed. “And she bent over a lot. I don’t think she even noticed me! She had shaven everything. Everything! She seemed so happy to be working on his stuff. You could tell it was starting to get her wet. She re-made the bed for a third time, dusted everything, pulled his socks up, and flashed her pussy at me.”
Mark liked the word “pussy.” She could tell by his indrawn breath. Terri made a note of that, too. Then she started to ease down her own shorts. The memory was a hot one. Even her growing concern couldn’t beat her constant thrumming libido.
“So what else did you notice?” Mark managed.
“My own Mom.”
“Huh?”
Terri took a deep breath. “She works outside all day. Gardening and stuff. I go outside, just in time to see her disappear into this shed we have out back. I wait and wait, and she doesn’t come outside for nearly a half-hour. I’m just standing there in the sun.”
Actually, she had found the sun and the wind to be very nice. Terri had slipped inside a nook in the building and quickly brought herself off to an outdoorsy kind of climax.
“When she finally comes out, her shirt is soaking wet.”
“What does that mean?” Mark asked, puzzled.
“I don’t know! So I went into the shed to find out. But the only thing that was there was the fridge where the Reverend keeps his homemade ice cream. But it smelled… not right. Like… like we were in a barn.”
Dinner had been the worst part.
Both Patricia and Candice had come home at least two hours earlier then normal working hours, then disappeared into their rooms. When they emerged, the black-wearing Professionals had disappeared, replaced by cooing displays of girl, dressed up in satin and pastels. Candice had on another of her teetering pair of heels, along with a short pink skirt and a clubwear rubber white corset. Patricia had laced herself into a slinky green dress. And no bra.
Both had surprisingly large tits.
“They acted like they were the maids!” Terri moaned. “They watched Ronald and Darrell the entire time. They refilled their drinks. They took their plates. They giggled whenever they talked. I don’t think they said anything. They were like little toys for the men!”
And, even with her mouth full of ice cream, Terri had noticed when Ronald’s hand crept up Patricia’s skirt. The brunette flushed, and leaned back against her chair, ice cream forgotten. Anne had walked by—she had to have seen!—and not done anything.
Candice had left with Darrell’s hand firmly up the back of her skirt, leaning on his arm.
Of course, that had left Terri to clean up. At least she had gotten Patricia’s ice cream.
“That’s everything?” Mark prodded.
“Y-yeah. What do you think it means?” Terri asked, worried. Her free hand had managed to pull down both skirt and panties, and was lightly stroking at the outside of her slit. Mark would have an answer. He was really smart. He worked with computers.
“I don’t know. I wish I did. I only have questions. Terri, have you noticed any… physical changes?”
“Um, yeah,” she said. She was touching them right then. “My boobs are bigger. I think that’s just all the ice cream, though.”
“What about your… sex drive?” Mark said.
Terri blushed. “I’m, uh, actually touching myself right now. My slit.”
There was a short pause. “Really.”
Terri took it as encouragement. “I get really hot all day, you know? So yeah, I’m kind of slipping a finger… in and out… of my pussy…” she whispered the final word. “It’s weird, I’m so worried, but I see all these things, and it’s… so fucking hot.”
“Oh,” Mark was breathing heavily, now. “I asked about getting bigger because… my dick is larger. Then it used to be.”
Terri’s heart skipped a beat. She remembered his cock very well. And its scent. “How much bigger?”
“A lot bigger. I’m… touching it right now.”
“Are you thinking of me?” Terri asked. Her worries were starting to vanish. She kept up her own eager strokes.
“Yeah, I am, but… Terri, I shouldn’t be this turned on. I want to fuck you. I want to split you apart, and cum inside of you. I’ve been thinking about it all day.”
Terri groaned, happily. That sounded… good to her.
“No! It’s not normal! I—ahhh!” Mark said.
He was coming. He had to be. Terri wished he was there, coming on top of her tits, creating a waterfall of cum. She added a third finger, pumped it in and out. She came, moaned and hissed her orgasm over the phone.
Both teenagers panted, at each other, over the line.
“Look, Terri, I’m coming over first thing tomorrow,” Mark told her. “Don’t touch yourself or anything until then. This is getting out of control.”
Don’t touch herself? Terri gritted her teeth. Already she was starting to feel warm again. But if Mark was right.. and something weird was going on…
“I’ll do it,” she said. For him. “But please… hurry.”
* * *
Mark showed up at eight the next morning. Anne met him at the door, dressed in a white cotton blouse and a knee-length jean skirt. Her face was elaborately made up, and she wore two large hoop earrings that dangled nearly to her shoulder. The sun beat down on both of them.
“Hi, uh, Terri’s Mom,” he said, muscles shifting under a plain t-shirt.
“Anne. I’m Anne. Come in. Here so early?”
Terri was in the kitchen, up to her elbows in the morning round of dishes. Since Mark had ordered her not to play with herself, the only activity left was her Mom’s cooking. Terri had worked her way through a pig’s worth of hot links, then channeled her now-usual morning rush of tit-play into cleaning up.
“Mark!” she said, hugging him with sopping wet hands. Her breasts pushed up against his chest, happy to see him.
Anne just watched, her arms crossed, with that never-quite-gone smile.
“You two have fun,” she said, lingering on the last word. “Don’t forget that you have dusting and varnishing to do, later today.”
“Okay, Mom,” Terri said, and seized Mark by the hand, drawing him back downstairs. There she hugged him harder, running her hands over his back. His chest was so broad she couldn’t get her hands all the way around. It didn’t bother her.
He made sure to sit in the computer chair, so that she had to sit on the couch, far away from each other. Mark swept his eyes up and down her body, and she flushed with heat.
“Terri,” he said, “Do you usually look so…” he searched for the words “…good? First thing in the morning?”
Terri glanced down. She was just wearing an old t-shirt from High School and a skirt.
“It’s not my fault,” she pouted. “I’ve been, you know, swelling. Just like you.” She tugged on the t-shirt. It gripped her tits, showing them off, and her nipples fought against them. “My boobs didn’t used to be this big. Now they’re all enormous and stuff.”
They also dominated her thoughts. It used to be that her boobs were a slight distraction. Now they demanded constant attention, cut off any views of her feet, and flushed with pleasure at any slight sensation.
The skirt was no better. It had been a casual jean skirt, just above knee-length. With wide hips and a dainty waist it rode up high. Very high. He could probably see her panties. She checked to make sure he could.
“Yeah, okay, I get that,” Mark said, soothing. “But what about the makeup?”
“What about it?” Terri said, puzzled. She looked in the mirror on the bathroom door. Dark red lipstick, layer on layer, until it perfectly matched the luster on her nails. Big, wide eyes, accentuated with liner. But no concealer or anything like that.
“It’s just that you look.. great. You look great.” Mark was sweating. He pulled on his shirt. It was starting to bead up with perspiration.
They both looked at the floor. It was spotless. She had cleaned it twice already this morning.
Terri sniffed. Something smelled good. Nothing she could put her finger on. Just something… good.
“It’s not just physical stuff,” Mark said. “Terri, you went to college, right? You like literature and books and culture?”
“Sure, of course!” Terri said.
“How many books have you read since you came home?”
Terri thought about it. “Um. None. But I’ve been busy!”
“I’m not sure that’s it,” Mark said, shaking his head. “All I want to do is… fuck. Not have sex, or make out. Crazy, sweaty, breeding. It’s insane. I don’t want to read. I don’t want to goof around on the Internet. I see a girl, and all I can think is: what would she look like naked? Is she seeing anyone? What do her tits look like? Is she pregnant? If not, how can I fuck her?”
“I’m not pregnant,” Terri offered.
Mark clutched the seat armrest and shuddered. “Yeah. I know,” he whispered. His eyes flickered across her stomach.
Terri urged her legs to cross. They didn’t want to. They wanted to give Mark a better look at what he was thinking about, to slink towards him, to wrap themselves around them.
“You’re bigger too, huh?” she said, softly. Her voice sounded so slinky, these days. It matched her tits. “Your… penis?”
“Yeah,” Mark said. He shifted it, under his shorts. It was obvious just how large it was. It had to hurt, keeping it locked down in there, a powerful tool made for fucking women senseless. Terri’s lips opened.
“Can I… see it?” She offered. “Just for looking at it. I mean, to measure it. I should probably keep… like a record. So we can see how big it gets.”
Mark paused, tried to fight the urge. But he was already standing up, unzipping his shorts, pulling them down over hairy, rugged legs. His boxer shorts looked aggrieved, bent at an impossible task. When he finally pulled the elastic down, they groaned.
Terri nearly groaned, too. Was he even larger then yesterday? Was it just her first good look? His cock was beautiful, sticking straight out, proud, with a big red head and a long shaft.
She inhaled. That smell was back. Stronger then before. It called to her, bypassed anything she used for rational thought, and touched at ancient urges and nerves she didn’t even know she had. From way back when, when mankind was barely civilized, and sex was about rutting in the dirt. This time her legs sprang open, pointed at Mark’s dick.
“Don’t come any closer,” Mark said, uneasily.
It was too late. Terri was already drooling, primal, lost in the sight of his urgent, quivering cock. She got on hands and knees, knuckled over to the member, examined it closely with wide eyes. Mark squeezed his eyes shut, tried to keep from staring into the valley of cleavage.
“I just want.. a closer look,” Terri lied, to herself. Her body was firmly in control. Her mouth swished with spit.
“Terri, don’t… Jesus, Terri!” Mark whispered, when she slipped her mouth on top of it.
It spurt cum almost immediately, not an orgasm, just a welcoming burst of hot, creamy fluid. It was amazing, salty and sweet at the same time, and Terri eagerly lapped it down. She had never taken a cock into her mouth before, but it was easy, natural, fun.
She looked up as she bobbed up and down. The important thing, she knew, was that Mark enjoyed himself. True, her pussy was sending strong “need” signals, and her boobs burned, but he came first. That’s how boys and girls worked. Her body knew what to do. It was made for pleasure, with big boobs and a hot, sensual figure. She just had to… drift away.
“Fuck, Terri, what are we… ahh… do that thing with your tongue again,” Mark said. He grabbed her hair, and she did that thing with her tongue, easing it down the length of the hardness inside her mouth.
“You smell so good,” she said, briefly letting go. “I need… more…”
Mark nodded, still pushing hard. She struggled to keep him down, but gagging seemed impossible, with something this delicious filling her.
“Scent,” he said. “It’s got to be … scent. That new factory. That’s it! It must have put something… in the water!”
Terri smiled. She sucked even harder, diligently, until he came in her mouth, flooding her with salty, sexy boy-juices. She kept him in her mouth as long as she could, just enjoying the smell of his sweat, filtering into her head. Then she lazed back to the bed and lied back down. Her pussy, wet and willing, shone through her panties. Mark, still dripping down, had a beautiful view.
“Christ,” he said. “I’m getting hard again.”
Terri rubbed her legs together, smiling.
* * *
They lost their virginity without really thinking about it.
First Terri’s toes extended to the ceiling, flexing, coursing with the pleasure of being completely filled. Then they closed around her man’s back, pushing into his skin, urging him onwards. Her ass pushed deep into the mattress, nearly to the floor. Her vision blurred, and caught flashes of his snarling, screwed-up face.
Mark pushed all the way, then pushed even harder. She felt delicious, stretched, and complete. That hole she had always had was finally getting properly satiated. The very tip of his cock touched at something far within her, and she spasmed around him, wrapping her arms around his head.
Her man grunted, pushed roughly back and forth, without finesse. His cock pulled back, waited briefly at the tender folds of her pussy, and then went back in, setting off fireworks with each eager inch. He didn’t bother to explore her body. He was using it for his own enjoyment. And that was such a turn-on.
It was already messy sex. Mark had never stopped drooling cum from his cock, and she was wet. Their fluids mixed together, combined into a heady combination of pheromones and seed.
“You’re sure you’re on birth control?” Mark said, the cultured boy briefly emerging from the grunting, sweating male marking his territory all over her.
“Are you worried I’ll get pregnant?” Terri said. The word set something off in Mark’s head. He redoubled his pace, needy and frantic, and reached up to maul her tits. His hands were rough, thumbing at her nipples, and she loved it.
“Pregnant… big fat titties… big tummy…” she said, testing each word. They sparked more and more effort from Mark, until she was a quivering bundle of nerves, wrapped around a dick. Talking wasn’t possible.
Mark came. He howled, like an animal, and dumped another huge load of cum inside of her. It swam up her cunt, down her thighs, and pooled on the carpet. When he pulled out another gusher landed on her stomach, spreading white fluid around her belly button. More of that delicious, beautiful smell rose from it.
Her boy came back down. He looked afraid, unsure of himself, and studied his finally-softening cock with something close to fear.
“You’re SURE sure you’re on the pill?” he said.
“I’m sure!” Terri insisted, still riding the waves of fun herself.
But she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to be.
* * *
She had to talk to Anne, if only to find out what her role was in this small-town transformation. True, Anne had been acting… different. But at least she wasn’t boy-crazy, or acting like an airhead, or mooning over a big pregnant belly, like everyone else. She had even picked up those birth control pills for her daughter.
And besides, Terri had to admit, who else could she trust in this town?
Anne was knitting in the parlor, in the big, upholstered chair. Weeks worth of dedicated cleaning had paid off. The floor shone with waxed and polished wood. Everything was nicely dusted and re-dusted. Even the walls looked brighter in the mid-morning sun.
“Mom, I need to talk to you about…” Terri began.
Then she noticed Patricia and Candice.
The two girls were diligently toying with knitting needles, trying to pick up the motions. Both wore perfect makeup, with painted smiles and coquettish eyelashes that batted on general principle. They appeared to be knitting little booties.
“Terri, can you do me a favor, dear?” Anne said, placid as always. “These girls wanted to learn how to do a little housework. I told them they could follow you around during your afternoon chores”
Both of the Professionals leapt up, eagerly. Terri bit her lip. Whatever had infected the town, it had bit these two especially hard. When they sprang up two mammoth pairs of boobs bounced up and down. It ruined their credibility, made them look like puffed up tit job recipients without a thought between the two. They had huge eager eyes and vapid, empty smiles.
And they had each put together their own version of a maid’s outfit. Candice had outdone herself with heels; it was unclear how she even walked on the pinpoint stilettos with the bow strap on front. Cobweb-style pantyhose climbed up her legs, and didn’t bother to make it all the way under a white and black French Maid skirt.
Patricia was even worse. She had worn a latex blue dress that failed to hide either boobs or butt. The zipper ran, blatant and enticing, along the side of the outfit.
“I thought you could start with dusting,” Anne said, needles flashing. “Since it’s your specialty.”
* * *
The girls were depressingly keen on it. They nearly fell over each other, to get their turn dusting things. They asked endless, inane questions about dusting. Different fabrics. How often. Hard to reach spots. Dust bunnies: what were they.
And they couldn’t seem to help but let their asses trail in the air, or to bend over while they worked, so that their boobs nearly popped out.
“This is fun!” Candice pronounced, tittering. “I like how clean everything gets after you clean it.”
Patricia agreed that it was nice that things got cleaned.
“Don’t you have an advanced degree?” Terri prodded.
“What’re you saying? That I can’t do housework like a nice girl because I have an Accounting degree from UT?” Patricia sniffed. She had worn underwear, but it was silky and matched her outfit perfectly.
“I am a lawyer,” Candice announced. She tittered. “I handle papers and stuff. And…” she groped to remember what else she did, “and other legal stuff.”
“What about your jobs?”
“Oh, we asked the boys to handle our things today,” Candice said, dismissive. “It’s a boring job, anyway. Darrel and Ronald said they’d let us know when we need to go back.”
At the mention of the men, the two girls looked at each, and giggled.
And, despite herself, Terri found it.. nice… to fall back into the ordinary routine of housework. The two girls hung on her every word, admiring her work, nodding vigorously when she explained something so simple a kid could’ve figured it out. When they smiled, which was constantly, she smiled along with them.
“Don’t you want to go back to work?” she said, idly, when they were mopping together.
Both girls shook their heads so hard their tits jiggled. “This is so much better!!” Patricia announced. “It’s so… relaxing. You just kind of do it, and let your mind wander.”
The two giggled, again. Terri froze.
What had Mark said about that? Right, that the town was making everyone stupid. Was she turning dumb, too?
Had she read a book, or a magazine, or anything? No, she had done housework, with a happy, lazy grin, eaten ice cream, and masturbated. And that was it. Basking in that inescapable feeling of… contentment.
There had to still be time to somehow stop from becoming a contented, horny, dumbo. Terri tossed down her mop, left the two bimbos to finish up the housework, and stomped off to find her Mother.
* * *
This time, she was drinking tea with Pastor Flynn. The Reverend was in casual attire, for him, khakis and a long-sleeved shirt. He looked strange outside of all black. That same, intimidating aura hung on him, but now on a middle-aged man who used too much hair cream.
“Terri!” he said, happily. “I’m sorry I haven’t seen much of you, recently. I’ve been very busy this past week. Caring for herds, you know how it is.”
“Hi Pastor Flynn,” Terri said, impatient. “Isn’t it caring for flocks?” It felt strange to contradict the man. He had a way of looking at you that heavily implied you were on display, and should act accordingly. Terri felt like sticking her chest out for grading. She hoped she got an A.
“You’re looking very nice, Terri,” Flynn said. Anne, next to him, nodded approvingly.
Terri took a deep breath, and closed her eyes, but there was no stopping it. Compliments had a way of sparking her sex drive, unstoppable, leaking juice into her still cum-filled slit and sparking her nipples. She tossed her hair back, and her legs quaked.
“Pastor,” she squeaked, her legs tensed, “can I talk to Anne for a—“
“Actually, we were just talking about you,” Pastor Flynn said. “We were wondering when you planned on returning to college.”
College? Terri hadn’t thought about college since… since her first night here, actually. Why was that? Her head felt sluggish, confused and assaulted by the remaining tingles from her morning fucking. Critical thinking was too much to ask after so many surges of endorphin-laced pleasure…
“I guess I hadn’t really thought about it?” she said.
“And why did you leave in the first place, exactly?” Flynn said. He sipped at his tea, loudly.
A week and a half ago, the question would’ve pushed her out of the room, snorting, incandescent with rage. Now it was hard to actually recall what it had been. Whatever it was, it had devastated her. Terri had stopped eating, stopped going to class, let her grades plummet until the suspension notice arrived by e-mail.
“Something… about a boy?” she said, uncertain. It was all so blurry, now. Everything she had done in college. She must’ve gone to classes, right? Learned… things. About stuff. It had all drifted away, leaving behind a confused blonde with melon-shaped boobs.
Flynn chuckled. “Isn’t that always the way?” he said. He was so understanding. “College relationships are so rocky. Nothing like the old style—meet a boy, shove your tits in his face, and let him knock you up. Works like magic. Or so I’ve heard.”
Had the good Pastor said… tits? That couldn’t be right. Terri was too distracted simply by trying to keep cum from leaking down her legs. A new breath of hot wind ignited in her head from the idea of Mark knocking her up.
“What Pastor Flynn is talking about,” Anne interrupted, from her perch on the old chair. “is that we’re thinking of making the house into an official Bed and Breakfast. Calving is getting a lot of visitors, visitors with money, and we could charge more if we were registered.”
“So what does that have to do with me?” Terri said. She was going back to college… right? She certainly wasn’t going to stay here, and let Mark fill her with his hot, salty cum, and pump out babies for him. That just wasn’t… her. Right?
She felt dizzy. Running a conversation while thinking at the same time was so hard, for a girl.
“We’d need your help to run the place,” Anne explained. “You would be the maid. Except we would be paying you, of course. And you’d have to wear a uniform. Would you like that, dear?”
A uniform? One of the black French maid outfits the Professionals had shown up in, only tailored to hide a pregnant belly, Mark’s baby. No—fit to show it off—to demonstrate to all the visitors that she was a knocked up slut.
Anne and Flynn took another sip of tea. Sperm leaked down her thighs, despite her best efforts.
“You don’t have to decide right now, dear,” Anne said. “Why don’t you get dressed? The ladies are coming over for book club, and you’ll be serving tea. I have an outfit picked out for you.”
She reached behind her, behind her pile of knitting, and her unopened copy of Invisible Man. The outfit was one slight sheath of white and black, made out of silk, and with little tassles on the fringe of the too-short hem. It was hard to imagine how she could squeeze it over her big, floppy boobs.
“Okay, Mom,” Terri said. A part of her kept fighting. A small part, and growing smaller.
* * *
The Ladies had refreshed their wardrobes over the past week. They filtered into the sitting room, brilliant in bright colors, wearing huge smiles to go along with their jewelry and high heels. They settled comfortably into chairs, clutching fresh and untouched copies of Invisible Man.
Terri filtered among them. She felt calm, at ease, placid. The dress had fit very well. Her boobs were huge now, too big even for her hands. She had rolled them around with her fingers, felt the comforting weight pull on her body. Funny how the rest of her body hadn’t gotten much bigger. A little more weight at the hips, a little bit more padding all around, filling her out.
She bent over carelessly, letting everyone see the tops of her stockings. They had come with the outfit, and they were dark black. The ladies didn’t seem to mind. They were too excited to get big bowls of Flynn’s ice cream.
Terri took a big drink of water from the kitchen before she could think about it.
“Oh, right,” she thought, hazy. Mark was sure it was full of chemicals and hormones and stuff, making her big and stupid and horny. Well, she had only had two glasses. It probably wouldn’t do any more damage.
Anne took her seat, triggering the meeting. There wasn’t even a pretense of discussing the book. The ladies immediately set to gossip—who was pregnant, who wasn’t pregnant, who was fucking who. In graphic and unashamed detail, complete with hand gestures.
“Ladies,” Anne said, breaking in, “I’ve invited two new members. Candice and Patricia have been staying with us, you might have seen them working at the factory.”
The two Professionals flounced in. They hadn’t changed their outfits. But they had clearly been busy with each other. Both had flushed, red cheeks and mussed hair, and kept throwing happy looks at each other. They bounced into their seats and didn’t bother to cross their legs. Neither wore panties.
“I think Candice has an announcement for us,” Anne said, smiling. She pushed her hair back and gestured at the new Maid.
“I’m pregnant!” Candice squealed, beaming. She was crying, she was so happy. “I’ve got a baby in me!”
The ladies cooed, excited, and everyone applauded.
Patricia’s mouth hung open. “Ohmygosh,” she shrieked. “I’m pregnant too!” Patricia and Candice launched themselves across the room, hugging in a big-titted display of joy. Their hands pawed at each other, excited and busy.
The ladies went wild with approval. Terri stood there, with the tea kettle limp in her hands. Both of them? They were going to get heavy, with even larger boobs.. how much bigger could they get?
“They’ve both quit their jobs to help out with our new Bed and Breakfast,” Anne said. “We’re very excited.” She paused, and for nearly the first time, her docile smile disappeared behind a sad little line. “You know, Terri was the last I could have. So it’ll be nice to Mom around just a little bit more.”
Her Mom was… infertile? Because of her? Terri hadn’t known that.
“And maybe a grandmother, soon enough?” Mrs. Pritchard cooed. “I heard about Terri and Mark. Such a nice, strong boy.”
The eyes shifted to Terri.
“I’m not pregnant,” Terri told them, backing away, resistance flaring. “I’m not a big-boobed Mommy like everyone else in this town.”
They all laughed.
“Oh, Terri, look down at yourself,” Mrs. Collie said, cocking her head. “You’ve got the boobs, you’ve got the big hips. You’re practically designed to have kids. They’ll slip right out of you. You won’t even notice.”
“No.. no, we’re using protection,” Terri said. Did she just admit she was fucking Mark? There were so many eyes on her…
“Protection, of course,” Mrs. Pritchard said, condescending nicely. “I’m sure those pills will do a wonderful job when Mark dumps a full load of cum inside of you. Or has he already?”
More giggling.
“I… I have to go,” Terri said. She could feel the eyes on her tits, on her stomach, on her moist slit. She had to get out of there, to run away.
To masturbate so hard that the ladies upstairs tittered some more.
* * *
“They’re like… teenagers,” Erica thought, numb.
It was nearly 5 in the afternoon. That meant that Robert was about to return home from his job as—she shuddered—some kind of construction tool. And that, in turn, meant the daily welcome-home ritual between him and the slutty cow that used to be Erica’s sister.
Deanna’s reaction was pathetic. When there was still an hour to go she began to watch the clock, turning towards it to check the tick. She would rub anxiously at her stomach, just now starting to show the first bulge of her pregnancy. She would toy relentlessly with her always-brief skirt, or tug at her figure-hugging shorts with the button undone. When she thought her sister wasn’t looking, she stroked at the undersides of her—huge!—breasts.
Of course, she was hard to engage at the best of times, these days. Once upon a time Deanna had been the prize student in the family, The One Who Got The Brains. She had graduated from High School at the top of her class, and been set to go to the very best college. Even when she had rebelled against her upbringing, run off with a brawny, dumb man, the family had figured she’d grow out of him. How could she not? Breeding would tell.
The brainy Deanna had disappeared. Her interests were limited to: Robert, pregnancy, sex, and daytime television. If Erica tried to talk politics, or literature, she listened patiently, rubbed her stomach, and then changed the subject back to something inane.
Robert arrived home. “Ding-dong!” he said, as he always did on the front step. Erica sneered.
He crashed through the front door, as always, sweating and enthusiastic. He caught his expanding wife up in a bear hug, kissed her—indecently—and then the two made out where they had met. If she hadn’t been there, Erica was half sure they would simply fuck on the carpet.
She wiped a bead of sweat off her own forehead.
But what was really bothering Erica was the—there was no other word—the scent.
It was maddening.
Whatever it was, it kept assaulting her at odd times. She would be walking around the house, and this strange, musky odor would creep into her head. And then she would have to look around, sniffing, trying to get another burst of the smell.
Erica knew it was making her do strange things. She stalked around the house when Deanna was gone, trying to get another hit. She dug through cupboards and prowled bedrooms, looking for it, aching for it.
And when she did get a hit, she was inevitably in her bedroom within minutes, rubbing furiously at her puffy and swollen tits. They had taken to the country air, just like her sisters.
Robert and Deanna retreated to the bedroom, leaving her to do the cooking, again. But Erica couldn’t seem to mind. She had gotten two hits in there, just yesterday.
* * *
She finally found the scent in the bedroom.
Not hers, although the guest bedroom was perfumed by her embarrassed and extremely erotic self-play sessions.
Deanna and Roberts. Erica eased into it, increasingly desperate, while Deanna was out running errands.
The couple had a small, twin-sized bed, with cheap sheets. Deanna’s side was barely used. They apparently slept nearly on top of each other. Or—the erotic imagery was getting more frequent and indecent—with him inside of her.
Robert’s boxer shorts sat on the carpet, flung halfway across the room. Deanna typically kept a spotless house; boring cleaning had become one of her few passions. She must not’ve had time to toss it into the wash.
The scent seemed to grow out of the disgusting, wrinkled shorts.
Erica inhaled, tried to stop herself, and failed. She willed her fingers to stop, and they reached out to grab the discarded pair of underwear. It was still sticky with what had to be drying cum, from last night’s adventures fucking the shit out of her sister.
Erica lowered her nose to it.
When she came to, she had fallen backwards onto the bed, and was pawing lewdly at her own tedious pair of pants. The underwear was just underneath her nose, Robert’s scent filling her, completing her. Making her understand—her sister hadn’t chosen Robert. Robert had chosen her, and all she could do, as a girl, was to simply obey.
And get fucked, of course. Erica finally managed the zipper, plunged two fingers into her slit. Two more followed, all the way up her cunt, until she dripped onto their bed. She was unused to masturbation, and had to teach herself where to touch, where to stroke, how to grab at her nipples to add to the burning heat in her head. She bucked, shaking the bedsprings, cumming wildly in a spray of juice.
Eventually she stopped, out of exhaustion. One hand rested on her tits, another lingered just inside her pussy, and Erica fell asleep.
When she woke up, her sister sat on the bed, on top of her.
She was giggling, amused, and wore hot pink shorts with another slutty halter top.
“Deanna… I can… this isn’t…” Erica said, propping herself up. “It’s not my fault. There’s something… some sort of drug..” Her pants were still bunched around her ankles.
“You want this, don’t you?” Deanna said, smirking. She waved the underwear in front of Erica’s nose. Erica nodded, weakly. She did need more. So much more.
“Then why didn’t you just say so?” Deanna said. “Lets get you all ready, sis! Oh, this is going to be fun! We’ll be sisters together!”
“I’m not going to be… like you..” Erica said. Her sister arched an eyebrow, then slipped a finger into Erica’s still available snatch. It sunk to the hilt. Erica groaned. Stopping this madness never occurred to her.
How could anything feel that good?
What was happening to her?
* * *
It was nearly time for Robert to come home.
It had been a long and mortifying day.
She was wearing pink. Erica had never worn pink in her whole life, just a long stretch of blacks, greys, and browns. Sensible clothes.
And she certainly hadn’t shown off her ass. Now it waited just beneath a daringly brief skirt, coupled with pink pantyhose that Deanna had picked out.
She had tried to draw the line at the pink panties. But every time she got the will to resist up, Deanna would just wave that pair of boxer shorts in front of her, and she gave in. By the end of the day she just looked at her purse, where they were, and Erica gave in.
Deanna had decided to show off her ass “until your titties come in.” That sounded ominous. Her boobs were nicely sized. A decent handful. Was she about to pop out sweater-kittens like her sister’s new rack?
Erica licked her lips and tried not to want them.
The bustier made her look like trash. It was light green. It didn’t really match the skirt, actually, but Deanna seemed to care only for what the outfit did show, rather then what it didn’t.
Deanna had allowed her one orgasm, in the changing room. She had been surrounded by girls in the same horny daze, flying through cheap, slutty clothes as fast as they could throw them on. All had large boobs held back by complicated bras. So many were pregnant. So many had boobs leaking white milk. Erica had screamed an orgasm and no one had even thought it strange.
The town was insane. Girls walked around in a blissed-out haze, either pregnant or clearly planning it, and not a single one in anything less then a two-inch heel. The couples groped each other, hands up skirts, and the outlines of monster-sized cocks were always obvious down the front of the male’s pants.
Deanna kept chatting about their “future together.” They were going to have babies, and big milky boobs, and take turns fucking Robert. She assured Erica that he had enough “cum and dick” for both of them.
Erica just nodded. That was good. Right? Then Deanna waved the scent in front of her, again.
They stopped at the diner for lunch. Deanna met up with her new friends, equally vacuous young girls with swelling tummies and no brains. They had chatted idly about looking hot with a preggo tummy. Erica had been served a milkshake by a dark-haired girl in tight blue shorts. The nametag read “Susan!”
In the middle of lunch, Deanna innocently slipped a finger under her sister’s skirt, and fingered her greased up clit. Erica had nearly gotten the will to fight back, to charge out of their, get into the Mercedes, and drive madly away.
Then she had spread her legs wider.
Now it was 4:30. Deanna was trying to explain to her what she had to do to get Robert to unleash more of that delicious, wonderful scent on her. But she couldn’t seem to pay attention to the most simple of directions.
Instead, she kept looking at the clock.
* * *
Robert busted through the door, ready with his usual enthusiastic smile and bear hug.
Instead, his wife was positioned on the couch, giggling like mad and touching herself. He frowned, puzzled. What was this all about?
Deanna pointed down, at his feet.
Erica, her snotty sister, was kneeling just in front of Robert’s pants. Her meager tits were open for display, underneath a halter, and she had long, smooth legs covered up with shiny pink. Her eyes glistened.
“Go ahead and fuck her, honey!” Deanna said. “But I told her to suck your cock, first.”
He shrugged. Robert wasn’t much into critical thinking these days. Working hard all day and fucking his wife all night seemed to pretty much cover his needs. Why turn down free head?
“Then you’re going to get her knocked up,” Deanna announced.
Robert’s cock sprang to attention. Now Erica had his full interest. As much as he loved his wife’s growing tummy, and the big chest that came with it, there was just something about depositing a load in a fertile womb. It… called to him.
Erica fumbled with his fly. She had pink painted fingernails. Those were new.
It sprang free. Robert was proud of his dick. It had grown impressively, in just the past month. Now it snaked down his leg. It came matched with large red balls, stuffed with sperm. Deanna had assured him that it was amazing.
“Go ahead, suck it,” Deanna urged. But Erica seemed to be just concentrating on her breathing, sniffing, weirdly, over his dick. Finally, sighing at her inexperience, Robert maneuvered his cock to her lips, and pushed in.
Erica seemed startled. A bit of the self-assured, condescending sister pushed back, and her eyes bulged, protesting against the warm cockhead pushing its way towards her throat. Then Robert let loose with a early jet of precum.
After that, Erica was happiness itself.
She swallowed just as much as her sister, who was frigging herself with eager abandon on the couch, mixing it up with fits of the giggles. Erica sucked hard. Robert chuckled. She had no idea what he could unleash, these days. She would choke without some training.
His balls boiled, and he pulled out, unceremoniously.
“What.. why’d you stop?” Erica whined.
“Go ahead and bend over, honey,” Robert said. “I’m going to put a baby in you.”
Erica pondered this, thoughts moving sluggishly through a sea of scent. “Okay,” she concluded. That sounded pretty hot. Babies were cool.
* * *
The formerly prim sister laid on the floor, breathing hard. There was no way she wasn’t pregnant. If the first load of cum hadn’t done it, the second or third had. Robert had just kept pushing inside of her, igniting her, long after the last bits of proper woman had been replaced by knocked-up slut. She felt… gooey, he had left so much white stuff inside of her.
Her life lay in tatters. She had a career, back in the City. Friends. A life. Interests outside of fucking and sucking.
Deanna kneeled next to her. Still smiling, she rubbed at Erica’s tummy. It was covered in cum, from when Robert had dripped, after finally pulling out.
“This is going to be great,” she said, enthusiastic. Erica smiled, weakly.
At least she had her sister back.

Read 43500 times |
Rated 93 % |
(100 votes)

Vote list (Close) :FromEden
: POSITIVE

Please rate this text: