Grimora the Sorceress Chapter 3 first draft

Brewing

It took 8 weekly injections before Grimora got sick and threw up into a bowl.

As she held back her hair and spat the rest of it out, she thought to herself: Ugh. Here we go then. The first step to ruling the world.

She summoned her whole imp army to her throne room, and she stood before them with Sneegleeves and Slobberjaw by her side.

“Minions!” she announced. “Listen up, all of you! I am here to tell you that...the potion has worked! I’m growing your future overlord!” She pointed below her belly button.

The imp army leaned in closer, squinting and scratching their heads. One of them shouted “Where?”

“Right here! Inside me! I’m pregnant, you dolts!”

A chorus of OH!s, and then the whole vile throng cheered and cackled and pumped their little fists. Grimora let it go for a moment, then held up a hand for quiet.

“That’s right! Now begins the great project! The great quest of our time! Your greatest mission yet! To bring forth the co-ruler of the world!”

Another round of cheers.

“This will be a long and hard journey! Particularly for me! Morning sickness already sucks! I am going to get huge and give birth and have to look after a baby! And then raise that baby to fighting form! I will not suffer through all of that, get fat as a hippopotamus, spend all of my best years, for nothing! You, all of you, will defend us! Guard us with all your miserable lives! Because if you do! If any of you survive long enough: my child and I will ascend and crush all who stand in our way, and you will ascend and crush right along side us! We will lay waste to all that lies before us! We will rise to the highest peaks of power! AND THE WORLD...WILL BE OURS!”

Her army went ape, screeching, hollering, jumping up and down, throwing each other up in the air, cartwheeling and falling over.

Well, she thought, they get the idea. She left the throne room with a flourish, but sagged when she returned to her chambers. She needed a nap. And probably another basin.

So it began. Time passed. And Grimora’s belly began to grow. Her first frustration: clothes. Things began to stop fitting right. All her sexy slim dresses? Got very tight by month 2, and bursting at the seams by month 3. She stood in front of her vanity mirror and turned to the side, her belly bulging under her last kind-of-fitting sexy slim dress. She looked at herself in annoyance, while struggling to breathe. In 2 weeks or less, she would not be able to get this one on either. She would have to ask her useless minions to go steal some more. Ones that were slim and sexy...and somehow roomy in the middle. Her hormones were making her hotter than usual, and her face burned still hotter with anger. She struggled to peel the dress off her swelling and sweaty body, and threw it in a corner.

“Fine! Robes then. Loose fitting robes, like a nun. No more slim sexy dresses for me. Slim sexy dresses are for slim sexy girls. And Grimora is not one of those anymore!” She stormed out of the the room in her more practical clothes, and took out her hormone fueled self-loathing on some unlucky minions.

Her second frustration: hunger. As she entered the second trimester her uterus expanded up towards her ribcage and all her stomach and guts were shoved out of place as it took over her abdomen. It was like her stomach was replaced with her baby, and that baby was ravenous. It wanted red meat. And ice cream. And carbs. And salty snacks. Grimora sent her minions on many raids to get what she was craving. She felt like she just sat around eating all day, like a cow. She certainly thought she looked like one. All that food was going right to her baby, and her middle was growing into a big round bulge. And then bigger. And bigger still. Her back was starting to bend to hold it up, her robes no longer hid her belly, and she couldn’t walk straight anymore. It’s all for the plan, Grimora consoled herself as her back began to ache. I’m growing a powerful baby, to make a powerful warrior. This is what I want. It’s all according to plan—and then the fetus would give her a swift kick in the bladder and she would be re-convinced that this was the dumbest idea she ever had.

The one thing that gave her any comfort was Slobberjaw. Her libido was ascending to heaven and her energy was descending to hell. She couldn’t do full-power sex for anybody. Therefore, that little tongue savant was a godsend. When she had desk work to do and her legs were sore, she would yell for him and have him go to town on her under the table to get her mind off it. Or when she was in bed and needed help sleeping, Slobberjaw was the one to call to calm her body down. He would do anything. Anything. And he kept being a loyal crotch soldier until Grimora’s belly got so big and tall that she couldn’t see him anymore as he worked. Which was fine by her. She didn’t call on him for his pretty face.

The end of the second trimester came, and she...felt really dang pregnant. Packed full, heavy, lumbering, huge. Her minions did manage to steal some dresses that worked. The kind that sort of gathered up just under the chest and were flowy the rest of the way down. They were dark and sexy in their own way, Grimora supposed. But it looked like she was holding a prize pumpkin underneath that dress, and she felt its weight in her hip bones.

She never bothered seeing a midwife for checkups, or reading up on her condition. If she had, she might have known that she was already as big as a full-term pregnancy. And not a small one either.

All she knew was that while she felt like a whale, and had to pee all the time, she saw the minions shie away in awe as she passed, and not in the usual fearful way. Grimora felt it too. It certainly was different, seeing the big round ball under her dress and knowing that there was a future dark emperor inside. And knowing that somehow made her feel more powerful. That there was great power, and aura in that growing belly of hers, and that she had great power for making it stronger. She sat in the throne room, stroking her great swollen middle, feeling...well, like a team. That the one inside her was already her partner in evil, and they sat on that throne together. They were two, but one. She had never felt that close to anyone before. It was a strange and unfamiliar feeling but...nice. More than nice. She felt her destiny coming closer, that soon she would not be alone. Yes, there was great power indeed inside that belly. And the more it grew, the more power she felt.

Which was good, because grow it did. When the final trimester arrived her belly swelled out larger, and faster, week after week. When on her throne, she spread her legs wide to make room for it as it ballooned out well beyond normal size. All her body, all her blood, all her nutrients were funneling to the insatiable infant inside her, and her belly grew, and grew, and grew.

Yes, her big bad baby made her feel huge and powerful. Yes, she liked the way she kept kicking minions by accident because she couldn’t see them anymore. Yes, she enjoyed playing footsie with the baby inside, thinking of names, and daydreaming of pillaging and murder as a family. But she was really starting to struggle in a lot of ways.

For one thing, feeding that baby and herself was not easy. She could never eat enough. How she wished she could just drink an energy potion! But she couldn’t. She cared nothing for rules in general, but the rules of spells were always an exception.

For another thing, she kept ruining her clothes again. Just when she had a style that complemented her great big pregnancy, she had to start leaking milk all over the front of her dress. And her pelvic floor was so soft and pressurized and her bladder so crushed and tiny, that she lived in fear of every sneeze.

And finally, it was just getting really hard to move. Walking was murder on her legs and back. She got a staff to help her get around, which revolted her, because staffs were for nerdy wizards. Even getting up from a sitting position was a whole deal: Scoot to the edge of the seat. Put both hands on the armrests. Get her legs under her. Try to center her mass, which took a minute because because her center of mass was now very large, very heavy, and way out in front of her. Using both arms and both legs, push her massive pregnant self into a bent semi-standing position, then straighten out by bending back. Proceed to listen to her back and pelvis sing angry songs of protest.

Grimora reflected on her life and decided, all in all, she wasn’t so bad all things considered. To combine constant urges to pee with an inability to get up easily? Now that was the real evil. She made do by having a minion on call to bring a chamber pot to her on a moment’s notice.

When her joints could take no more and she had no more wicked deeds to scheme for the day, she retired to the fortress bath house. The warm waters of the pool soothing her stretched skin and taking the weight off her bones was the one thing that kept her going. The other was Slobberjaw’s faithful and energetic salad tossing.

Grimora slowly, and very carefully, eased her giant round body into the water. Then heavily sat back against the pool’s wall with a splash. She gave a very long sigh of relief. Glorious, she thought. Now if I gave Slobberjaw gills and he could service me down there, I would never leave this pool.

A moment of peace. She felt the water lap against her. She saw the reflected wavy patterns dance on the stalactite ceiling and tiled walls. She heard the trickling of water from the nearby fountain, and the ripples splashing off the pool walls.

The baby too, decided to settle in. Grimora looked down at her massive belly, a hill of flesh under her breasts, and felt something massive roll inside. Like a great white shark under the surface of the sea. She saw the belly stretch out to the side, then the other. Another thrashing movement or two. And then was still.

She continued staring at her hill of a belly, regarding it. It was tall, and round, wet and shining from the water, and shot with red stripes that lotion could not keep away. It rose up out of the water like one of those fabled islands on the backs of turtles. She raised her knees up, making two little islands on the sides of her big one, and held them in her hands to see how it felt.

She had no doubt she could do it. Despite knowing that the baby warlord had grown huge inside her, she knew she could give birth. It had already been done. This was the plan, the recipe of Revolta, who had gone through this and ruled alongside her own superhuman son many ages ago. If she could do it, Grimora could do it. It was as simple as that.

Only...now Grimora had to think about it. She had to be close, had to be. She was having womb cramps every once in a while, not bad ones, and not often, but they were there. She had felt her belly shift down into her pelvis, making her somehow have to pee even more often. There was such a weight there. A weight preparing to come out. She could feel it. She was close.

She looked around the bathing chamber. Saw the serene reflections of the lights off the water. Heard its trickling. Felt its warm waves on her body. Yes. Yes, here. She would do it here. Soon.