Bitch (2 Parts)

Note: This is a story-prompt for Marcus Nelson.

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1.

It had started with a good fuck between him and one of his former girls. Usually Frank didn’t hit the same bitch twice, but she was acting thirsty as fuck, and he liked to think himself generous when it came to his cock. As a general rule, Frank never wore rubbers. Sometimes he would lie and convince a girl that he had put one on, if just to see her reaction when when he slipped out, and left her seeping his seed down her thighs.

When it was over, he began to doze. He wondered why the bitch was still by his side.

“I’d like you to meet your son,” she said to him.

“Get in line,” Frank muttered back. He had so many bastard spawn, he couldn’t count them.

She smiled bitterly. “That’s how it is then?”

Frank felt incredibly drowsy. “That’s how it is.”

As he allowed himself to lower his eyes, he heard some giggling noises, but not hers. It seemed to be coming from multiple voices, around the room. Before he could figure out what was going on, he had already passed out.

The next few weeks for Frank were…kind of sluggish.

He was putting on weight, and fast. In the matter of three months, he had developed a beer belly. Admittedly, he had gotten lax about his workouts.

He continued to run his game with his usual crew, too immersed in strategy to care that he was porking up. Besides, he could do to put on a little weight. It made for better scare tactics.

Then again, the weight didn’t seem to distribute in the most…intimidating of ways.

His belly was only getting rounder, and weirdly, he was developing a chest. His nipples were getting bigger, and more pronounced, and he was truly starting to look like a fucking slob. Worst of all, his ass was swelling. This corresponded poorly with his arrest during his latest bank hold-up.

He was off his game, and quickly sentenced for the robbery charge. A dozen other charges were pending, but were sure to guarantee his imprisonment for the next several decades. Soon Frank found himself in the local prison, failing to fit into the largest-sized jumpsuit.

Guards stared blatantly. Prisoners sneered. What troubled Frank the most were the ones who licked their lips.

He walked about in his baggy orange pants and a tanktop, under which most of his swollen belly freely protruded. Strangely, his belly button was bulging outwards now. His mound was so round, he looked like a bitch about to give birth.

His backside still bulged visibly, his B-cup moobs not saggy but round. He saw the way the other prisoners looked at him, and was especially cautious during showers. He usually tried to slip in once everyone else was gone.

Bigger he grew, and more awkward, and ungainly. Frank found he was constantly flushed, and wearing a sheen of sweat. He didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with him. The guards now mostly seemed amused.

“You have a visitor.” His cell door slid open.

Frank looked up at the guard presently eying his great mound, and the plump C-cups on his chest, nipples protruding quite unusually. Putting on his best sneer, Frank heaved himself up from his bunk, with some difficulty. He was mortified that he had to waddle to the door. He couldn’t help holding the underside of his mound, it was getting so heavy. With as much dignity as he could, he moved along, and ignored the jeers.

His back was sore when he reached his destination, his belly rocking. It was truly massive, getting wider than he was. He made his way to the phones, and the glass divider, surprised to see that it was the bitch he had laid with eight months ago.

Glowering, he eased himself down in the chair, puffing out a deep breath as his belly sunk heavily down on his lap. He sat there, looking away, panting for a few moments. Finally, he met her eyes, and lifted the phone.

“My Frank,” she said. “Looks like you gained weight.”

“What the hell do you want?” he growled. He got enough mocking from the prisoners.

“Well you look just about ready to pop.”

“I swear bitch, if you don’t get to your point…”

Her smiled softened. “You really don’t get it, Frank? You’re pregnant.”

For a while, Frank stared at her. He closed his eyes as he endured another of those squirming sensations he’d been trying to ignore. But it made sense. “How?” he managed, uneasily cupping his mound.

“We have three minutes, Frank. If I were you, I’d worry less about the how and more about the birth. It’s not exactly going to be discreet when you start popping out plump babies in your cell.”

Frank tried his best to breathe evenly. To his surprise, three other women came out from the wings to stand at the bitch’s flanks. He recognized them as other girls he had previously slept with, all who had gotten pregnant. Just a small sampling of his spoils.

“If you like, we can keep it a secret,” the bitch offered. “I have a guard on the inside. He could take you somewhere private, let you drop when the time comes. I’m sure it’s a welcome alternative to your fellow prisoners finding out what a breeding bitch you are.”

Frank swallowed.

“And don’t worry. We’ll take care of the babies. They should be with their siblings, after all. You should just know that after this, you’ll be fertile, and fully capable of getting knocked up again. So you better watch that sweet ass of yours in the showers.”

2.

It was only another week before Frank was alone, struggling in a tight janitor’s closet, his belly heaving, as his chest ached, and his skin burned so hot he feared he might pass out. He fidgeted and struggled in that small, uncomfortable space, as his body labored for two days, sweat soaking through his jumpsuit. After a while he did start to pass out, in small periods. It was difficult, and incredibly painful, and he could hardly keep his fat, stupid mouth shut, lest someone came and found him there in his most disgusting, pathetic, and vulnerable state. In the dead of the night, he finally managed to give birth to all three babies. But it was incredibly painful. Apparently the male body wasn’t designed for that shit.

After it was over, the crooked guard, Smith, took the babies away, as previously arranged. Frank didn’t even look at them, just glad his ordeal was over and done with.

He felt the guard jerk his clothes back around him, before practically dragging him back to his cell. Frank was barely conscious by the time he was dumped unceremoniously back onto his bunk. He could see his cellmates peering at him, probably wondering where the fuck he had been for the past two and a half days, but Frank was too exhausted to care. Barely able to move his body by then, he promptly passed out.

When Frank woke up, his whole body was still aching, his hips, his ass, and his chest. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed—probably at least a day, judging by the fact that it was evening again. He looked down at himself, and nearly gasped when he realized that everything, in fact, had not returned to normalcy.

His chest was bigger, not having shrunk as he had thought it would. Instead it was bloated and round, his nipples stinging. They had to be DDs—no, E-cups, by then, and were stretching tightly against his jumpsuit.

His jump suit felt entirely odd. Frank shifted uncomfortably on the plump platform of his ass, and came to realize how truly massive it was. A prerequisite to delivering babies, he supposed. But when the fuck was his body going to return to the way it had been before?

Frank looked up to see that one of his cellmates, Jamison, wasn’t sleeping, but casting him a fixed gaze. Frank stared back, his ass and chest tingling for some reason. He grunted and winced as his nipples stung, before he felt the two spots on his jumpsuit they were pressing against moisten, as the hard, swollen nubs pressed harder, as though to tunnel through the stretched material. “Fuck,” he hissed, as he folded his arms across his chest. He was fucking lactating!

Now Jamison’s eyes were gleaming. “I heard the rumors, you know,” he said with a crooked grin. “You waddle around looking like a blimp, disappear, then come back with stripper tits. People are saying you’re a bitch.”

Frank swallowed. “That is not entirely fucking accurate,” he growled.

“I don’t mind.” Jamison bared his teeth. “They say Smith knocked you up. Though probably time to move on from prison guards.”

Frank shuddered as heat washed over his bloated, fertile body. He groaned as his breasts tightened, and his zipper began to push down, almost invitingly.