Be Careful What You Wish For Page 7

  With the women in my house carrying an average of five and a half fetuses, they all grew at an accelerated pace. Lori, with her height and muscular build, was the smallest of everyone in my house but at three months, she already looked ready to go to the hospital at the drop of a hat. When she tried to tuck her basketball jersey into her shorts, it looked like her belly was getting ready to separate from the rest of her body and burst apart.

  But now, seven months in, everyone was titanic. At the third trimester point, the growth rate was increasing. I had heard rumors that women “pop” near the end of their pregnancy and their belly starts to really get big but I thought, with women as gigantic as the ones surrounding me now, surely there was nowhere else to go. Oh, how I was mistaken.

  Lori and Tori could barely reach the front of their pregnant stomachs with their hands and Samantha and Neera were totally helpless when it came to belly rubs and applying skin cream anywhere near their belly buttons. And their bellies didn’t just stick out far. They were getting increasingly spherical, measuring wide and far. Often, Samantha would keep one hand on each of her belly’s poles, studying what was developing inside her busy womb.

  This was the case everywhere. At school, walking through the hallway meant a guarantee that you would bump into a bump. I would have preferred more contact but I still got the brief finger strokes against swollen tummies as I went from class to class. Occasionally, girls would actually hit their bellies into one another’s but it was always passed off with a laugh or a coo.

  The widespread pregnancies in the school had created all kinds of new subcultures. There were the girls who became ultra-maternal. Always rubbing their stomachs, talking about how their babies felt inside them, possible names, building nurseries, that kind of thing. And most exciting for me, they talked about their expectations for the next time they got pregnant.

  Then there were the girls who followed the kind of sexual reckless abandon the Three Nymphs symbolized. It was rare to see them with their shirts rolled down because they loved to let their naked round stomachs hang out for everyone to see. Sometimes they would even tussle and spank each other on the belly. Of course, Maria, Jen, and Sarah were always found in this clique and the fact that each of them had six babies only helped boost their popularity.

  And then there was Glenna and her Bible study group. I still didn’t understand what compelled them to get pregnant when it would seem to me to violate their moral code but their stomachs told the whole story. What surprised me more was just how many girls were in her little religious order. She had about 15-20 young mothers-to-be with her at any given time, dressed very conservatively…at least they thought they did. Somehow, they all managed to wear tight sweaters and shirts that showed me just how big they were getting. Glenna had five fetuses in her enormous belly and her club varied in size.

  “This is a clear violation of the dress code,” Glenna chided, wagging her finger at Jen’s naked belly. She pointed at the prominent linea nigra running down Jen’s shining, dark skin.

  “No one’s stopping us,” Sarah grinned, touching her pale, freckled stomach against Jen’s. “And shouldn’t you be proud of your belly? You’re super pro-life and all that, right?”

  Glenna cleared her throat and crossed her arms. “The rules are in place to prevent lewd behavior. But it is not only inappropriate because it shows exposed skin. You are parading your unborn children around as if they were a joke and it is deeply immoral.”

  “Oh, go protest a science fair or something, girl,” Maria snapped. “I’m Puerto Rican and it’s natural for us to want to show off our changing bodies when we’re pregnant. And if you want to get into an argument with me over religion, I can show you what 18 years of listening to your Catholic grandma did to me.”

  Glenna held her gaze before turning and waddling away. “I will talk to the head of student affairs about dress code enforcement,” she said before heading for class with her fellow clubmates. I was watching the whole time, held in place by the tension.

  Over the past months, I had started to make observations and catalogues of what had been going on, not only at school, but around the world with pregnant women. My embarrassing first strike-out with that red haired girl taught me I needed to be strategic. As terrible as it sounded, I was not looking for any dating or relationships or heartfelt moments. I just needed to have sex with a pregnant woman. If we ended up being soulmates, hey, all the better. But it was not exactly a priority.

  I had my school charted out. I figured out which of my fellow students were in already in relationships despite their pregnancy, ruling them out. I also decided to stick to other seniors. Something just felt weird about hitting on pregnant underclassmen…or underclasswomen, if you like.

  The different subcultures of the school were just part of my observations. I marked down how many fetuses everyone was carrying as best I could figure out, with some help from Natasha in that department. I waited for belly buttons to start popping out like a gardener waiting for the first flower blooms. I was even starting to make lists for the surrounding schools.

  For a while, I had some notes on pregnant celebrities but it was pointless. They were all expectant. Samantha had me go to the grocery store for her and I would always eagerly look at the new covers for the tabloids and gossip magazines to see what model or actress or pop star was showing off her bulging belly this time.

  Over on the covers of “real” newspapers and magazines, world leaders were expressing concern over a new global baby boom and the coming population increase. Other women were shaking things up by being pregnant in parliaments and congresses across the world. A pregnant woman was even throwing her hat in the ring for the governor’s mansion in my state. She only had triplets and I wondered if she could be taken seriously if she had a belly like Samantha’s. “Only triplets.” Listen to myself. That would have sounded insane less than a year ago but that was my world.

  Speaking of Samantha and her belly, it was hers that may have set off my descent into madness. I came home from school to see her lounging on the couch, naked belly sticking up toward the heavens. One hand was resting on her curved stomach as she smiled softly, watching for the occasional twitch of movement inside her womb.

  “Alex, mind giving me a hand?” she said, turning to me with a strained smile. I gulped and walked over. “You see, I can’t exactly reach the front of my stomach.”

  “No, I guess not,” I said, watching her reach to the fullest reaches of her arms with no luck. I had gotten good at keeping calm around even her uncovered belly but I rarely got as close to it as I was right then.

  “And it gets itchy and a little sore,” Samantha said, patting her palm against her belly. “Would you mind rubbing in some skin lotion?”

  You could have knocked me over with one finger. “Um…doesn’t Neera usually do that for you?”

  “Yes, we think it’s good for the babies to be close to one another, even if they’re in different uteruses,” Samantha chuckled. “But she’s in the bathroom and with us pregnant ladies, who knows how long that will take? And you won’t break me, don’t worry. It’s not an egg.”

  “It’s similar to an egg,” I said with a nervous laugh, feeling my face turning red.

  Samantha laughed back. “True.” She pivoted on her fat rear to get a small jar of skin cream from a table and handed it to me. The label read “Belly Butter.” That title didn’t help. “Just rub it on the front, if you would.”

  “S-sure,” I said, dipping my fingers into the jar. “I-It’s no trouble, I guess.” She moved so I was face to face with her pregnant stomach, looking at her belly button like I was making eye contact. Her pregnance was so massive, I could hide behind it; she couldn’t see me and I couldn’t see her. That gave me the go-ahead to ogle Samantha’s belly all I wanted, admiring how smooth and silky her skin was despite how big she had gotten. And her inverted navel was like a nipple, erect and ready to be sucked.

  “Go ahead,” Samantha giggled. “It’s
really tight.”

  I coughed out some sort of affirmative exclamation and touched my hand to her belly. She let out a small gasp and flinched but I kept going. This was the first time a pregnant woman had actually invited me to rub her belly and it was exciting. Her stomach was hard but with a little bit of soft give. The closest thing I could compare it to was some kind of memory foam mattress and I would have gladly used it as a pillow. As I moved my hands in wider swaths, I wished she was a little smaller so I could get my hands closer to her breasts. Samantha’s chest had continued to grow and now hung on both sides of her pregnant stomach like over-ripe cantaloupes. If she was carrying twins or even triplets, her nipples would have been centimeters from my fingertips but she was so big, I was kept away from the warmth of her bosom. Samantha’s belly was also warm to the touch, even after I slicked it up with the cool lotion.

  In no time, her belly was shimmering and I could feel myself trembling. Maybe, just maybe, I could convince Samantha to take my virginity in this relaxed state. I peered over her belly to see her face. Her eyes were closed and her nostrils were flaring slowly as she rested. She looked like the picture of calm and it was beautiful.

  “Started without me?” Neera’s cheery British voice said. I jumped in my seat as her own planet-like belly orbited Samantha’s as she slowly waddled to the couch. Samantha’s eyes opened and she smiled back at the woman who slept with her husband.

  “I was getting itchy but Alex here is a good masseuse,” Samantha purred. I looked back at her with surprise and she giggled. “Don’t worry, we won’t force you to pamper us. You have enough chores as it is.”

  “I’m feeling sore too,” Neera said, lifting her dress to show her large brown belly. Here I was, sitting on the couch in between to massive pregnant women showing me their naked bellies. And I couldn’t sleep with either of them. “Mind rubbing in some skin cream too?”

  “Alex, time to go,” Tori called, waddling into the living room before seeing the three of us and groaning. “What, trying to get him to wipe away your stretch marks? Jealous of our young skin?”

  “Tori, don’t be rude to our guest,” Samantha said in a soft tone.

  “No, Neera is fine. Look at her belly. Her skin is gorgeous,” Tori chuckled. “But seriously, Alex, time to go.” Lori followed in behind her, a big gym bag over one shoulder and a sweatsuit on her body, only covering half of her belly.

  “Right, let’s go,” I said, getting off the couch and turning back to the women carrying my half-siblings. “Sorry…s-some other time, I guess.”

  “We’ll still be pregnant when you get back,” Neera chuckled. “Although it feels like my water will break if I just turn funny.”

  “Cute,” Tori said, rolling her eyes. “Let’s go. We have to bring the star to her people.”

  One of the downsides to my step-sisters getting hugely pregnant, besides the obvious nervousness I constantly carried with me, was I now had to drive them everywhere. Both girls loaded into the back seat and every now and then, I could catch glimpses of them fidgeting with their clothes as they tried to cover their bellies.

  “Won’t you get penalized if your jersey is out like that?” Tori said, dipping her hand under her twin sister’s sweatsuit to touch her exposed pregnant stomach.

  “They gave up on those kinds of fouls,” Lori said with a chuckle, resting both hands on top of her big belly. “Hoo. Lots of kicking today.”

  “P-probably just means you’re nervous,” I chimed in, fighting hard to keep my eyes on the road and not in the backseat.

  “Literal butterflies in my stomach,” Lori giggled. I smiled, encouraged by her playing along.

  “When you’ve got five brats inside you, then you can hypothesize about pre-natal health,” Tori said to me, turning back to her sister. “Besides, why would you be worried?”

  “It is homecoming,” Lori shrugged. “I’ve got a few jitters.”

  I pulled into the parking lot and let Lori and Tori help each other into the gym. They wouldn’t have accepted my help, that’s for sure. In the gym, I made sure to get a good seat before it filled up with families and fans. Mothers struggling with big bellies shuffled in to cheer on their mothers-to-be. Many shifted to sit in between seats on the bleachers, falling down and filling their entire midsections with their enormous stomachs.

  My plan was to save a seat for Natasha but she was a no-show. Louis sat next to me on one side, a big eager smile on his face. “Sup dude!”

  “Hey,” I smiled back, nodding. At least with Louis, I didn’t have to worry about being next to a pregnant belly the whole game. Then, to my left, sat a familiar face with fake red hair and a wide fertile middle. “H-hi.”

  “Oh…right, you,” she said slowly, squinting to remember. “This going cause any problems?”

  “I’ll be cool…I’m Alex, by the way,” I said.

  “Kris,” she said, giving me a little half-wave. “You did say you wanted to be friends.”

  Louis leaned forward and looked at the two of us. “Dude…are you and her-”

  “Just friends, Lou,” I said quickly, turning back to him. “Easy.”

  “I was gonna say…she’s sorta out of your league, Alex.”

  “I know,” I sighed, turning back to the court. The junior varsity men’s game was nearing its end and the women’s game was up next. I felt my lap burn and my chest tighten as the announcer began to read out the teams’ info.

  Out came the visiting team first. Like our girls, every single player was pregnant, carrying somewhere between 3-5 babies each. Some of the players who were lower on the bench didn’t even bother to change their jerseys to be appropriate for gameplay and the whole would could see their entire exposed pregnant bellies.

  Then came the home team. When the visitors came out, I was stricken by each of them but when the lights dimmed and our players came out, I remember just how gorgeous my class was. Tall, muscular players with beautiful faces and shining belly skin hurried out, their breasts, butts, and bellies jiggling with each bound. The audience went wild with cheers, especially for Lori. There was already some sweat on her skin, making her pregnant stomach shimmer, and she started blushing as soon as she faced the crowd.

  When the actual game started, Lori jumped higher than I could have imaged a pregnant woman could leap, grabbing the ball and hurrying around. Considering that the players were not only pregnant but into their third trimesters with multiples, it was impressive how quickly they could move.

  As the game got more heated, so did I. The girls were grunting and struggling with their maternal weight. Their jerseys were rolling up and their shorts were getting sticky with sweat, showing off the full size of their inflated rears. During tough moments, players rubbed against one another, belly against belly and sometimes face against breast. Tori in particular proved to be a very aggressive player, shoving her large, pregnant weight right into her opposing players to get the right shot.

  One of the opposing players decided to push back a little. She was a blonde, tall like all the others, with icy blue eyes, a devilish smirk, and the only other player with a belly that rivaled Lori’s in size. After one play, she pushed a little harder against Lori, delaying her just enough that the buzzer went off and the game went into half-time. As the players headed toward their locker rooms, the blond cackled and reached around Lori’s belly to pinch her exposed navel out of sight of the referees.

  “Playing dirty,” Kris said to herself. “Now the game’s getting interesting.”

  I felt my cheeks getting hot thinking about the implications. But I didn’t have time to relax because, slowly, the cheerleaders stood up and made their way to the center of the court. Mrs. Duncan, the cheerleading coach, lurched up, her pregnancy swelling her body to the point where she was nearly spherical, and signaled to the girls. They were dressed like typical cheerleaders with colorful skirts and pom-poms except they all had their pregnant bellies sticking out. No uniforms could be ordered to fit so they settled for painting the
school’s logo onto their stomachs when they went out. I trembled in my seat as I watched the pregnant beauties bend and flip, shaking their middles around and showing just how flexible they were.