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infinitegest · 10 days ago

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Repopulation Effort [Chapter 1]

In the not-so-distant future, afflicted by mass sterility and other sorts of disasters, humankind’s population is wiped out in the span of a single human generation. In response, the government begins its own repopulation program. Fortunately our young protagonist is very, VERY enthusiastic about the cause! Contains: hyperpregnancy, high order multiples, feederism, weight gain, breast expansion, lactation, labor, birth, f/f

In the not-so-distant future, afflicted by mass sterility and other sorts of disasters, humankind’s population first dropped down to a single billion, then down into the hundreds of millions, which many people considered a monumental disaster at the time. As it turns out, having the majority of the world’s work force wiped out in the span of a single human generation is very bad, or at least not good. It became clear that the solution was to once again increase the population to a sustainable number.

Governments, however, were quick to find that human do not reproduce as quickly as other animals: their gestations are longer and on average their litter sizes are much, much smaller, with the pregnancy yielding one, maybe two, infants at the absolute most. The solution then would be to find a way to either shorten the gestation or increase the litter size, or both.

Olivia was not the first person to volunteer herself to the repopulation effort, but she was certainly one of its most secretly eager. For most volunteers the incentive to become government breeding stock lie in the material benefits: housing, air conditioning, unlimited access to food, and so on; but for Olivia those were only perks on top of the real prize. For Olivia, the gestation itself was the draw. She wanted to be very, very, very pregnant.

She’d read the reports about the breeding program just like everyone else. The volunteers were given medication to stimulate hyperovulation, just like in pre-disaster fertility treatments. At first there were a lot of twins with maybe an odd triplet pregnancy here or there. The medical science around sustaining these kinds of pregnancies advanced quickly out of necessity and nearly right away it was overwhelmingly possible for someone to have a healthy set of triplets go full term and to be delivered naturally. The first time Olivia read about a woman going 40 weeks with not one or two, but three babies, her legs literally shook. There was no picture accompanying the article but she could imagine it, this woman’s belly stretched out as far as her knees, skin stretched so tight over the three bodies inside her that its roundness gave way, shrinking around each of the heavy, active fetuses inside her.

She must have been immobile, Olivia thought, her underwear so soaked through that they clung to the folds of her sex. She must have been trapped under her belly. She couldn’t move. She was a baby factory.

Then the quadruplets came. Then reports of quintuplets. In the span of a few years, breeders were having full on litters stuffed inside them and not only were they carrying them full term, they were giving birth to them naturally. That part sent Olivia over the edge, an intoxicating brew of arousal and envy seething in her gut like a roiling cauldron.

Five babies. The words scrolled over her consciousness like a marquee, playing again and again to taunt and entice her. Fingers between her lips she rubbed at the firm and juicy nub of her clit, slim thighs spread, looking between the open V of her limbs and imagining her belly reaching towards the sky while the first of nearly half a dozen babies barreled out of her. Her orgasm was titanic, hot and deep and sharp in her cunt, the kind that made her do pornographic moans that even she would have thought were fake if she hadn’t been the one squirting onto her bedsheets.

She wanted to be pregnant. She wanted to be full of babies.

When the next call for volunteers was announced she submitted her application immediately. She got a call back just as fast.

The initial physical was as routine as any other she had done before: height, weight, blood pressure. A few vials of blood were drawn. When Olivia first entered the program she was 5’4” and 120 pounds.

“How many babies am I allowed to have at once?” she asked, her own candidness surprising her.

“Depends,” said the nurse noncommittally behind her mask. She removed her gloves with a plasticky snap. “We need the results of your labs first. A lot of people get twins to start, or triplets if the doctor thinks their body can handle it. But most people get at least four the second time around.”

Thrilled anticipation vibrated like a cello string in her lower belly.

Olivia asked, “The second time around? People are doing this more than once?”

The nurse nodded, wrapping the paper labels around the tubes of Olivia’s blood. The woman spoke without ever looking up at her patient.

“Usually,” she answered.

Olivia wanted to know more but resisted the pull of her curiosity.

The doctor was an older man who similarly avoided eye contact, though he did periodically glance up from his clipboard to meet her gaze. He, too was wearing a white mask over the bottom half of his face, the material concealing his expression. When his gaze flicked up at her the look seemed especially intense, his brows low, flat lines above his eyes, the brief force of his stare shooting an invisible steel rod into the center of her forehead.

“So, you seem like a good candidate for this program,” he said abruptly. It happened so quickly that Olivia didn’t have time to feel excited, or anything else for that matter. “Barring any new unexpected results, we’re going to begin with our standard protocol of implanting four embryos. In all likelihood half of those won’t result in a pregnancy, so we’re expecting you’ll have a set of twins for us this time around.”

She stammered, “Oh, um...wow, that’s great! And I heard that...I can do it again if this first time is successful?”

Olivia knew that her excitement was adding a perceptible edge to her voice. She just hoped it read as patriotic rather than sexual.

Unphased, the physician responded, “Almost everyone does another round.”

All she could do was nod. The anticipation was killing her.

He continued, “The medical science is a lot better than it used to be. Multiple pregnancies aren’t nearly as high-risk anymore. Still, due to the circumstances, we have all of our patients move into the state residential facility. After we implant the embryos today you’ll be able to go home until we confirm the pregnancy, but after that you’ll be staying with us. Make sense?”

“You’re implanting the embryos today?” she asked, surprised.

The doctor nodded. “Yes, we need to get started right away. Is that a problem?”

Her mouth felt dry suddenly, her tongue thick and cottony.

“Not at all,” she answered. “I just...I didn’t realize you guys worked that fast.”

The man swiveled on his chair and turned towards his computer where he began clicking and typing away from her.

“Well, it’s out of necessity,” he said. “Due to the state of things.”

Within the hour, Olivia was in a paper gown and a female physician was placing a clear mask over her face. The male doctor from her earlier appointment was seated between her splayed legs at the end of the examination table.

“Breathe normally and count backwards from ten,” the anesthesiologist said.

Whether she had even begun counting out loud, she didn’t know. In the blink of an eye Olivia went from the procedure room to the recovery room, and just a few hours later she was taking a cab back home, four embryos snug inside her uterus.

She did not need to take a test. She knew. She was pregnant.

The symptoms began so quickly and so intensely that there was no denying it, no confusing it for a stomach bug or menstrual cramps. Olivia had heard that multiple pregnancies often had more potent symptoms, and the combined intensity and immediacy of the changes confirmed to her that not only was she pregnant, but she was definitely having more than one.

Her uterus ached deeply, painful and irregular cramps spasming across the inflamed organ. Inside was a sense of fullness, like the entire bowl of her pelvis had been filled with water. She imagined the babies inside her-- two at least, but maybe, she dreamed, even three-- were growing rapidly, cells multiplying, forcing the muscular wall of her womb outwards as they pressed up against it. Her breasts, two humble mounds on her slender chest, were so swollen that they were firm to the touch. They seemed larger. Whether it was wishful thinking or reality, Olivia couldn’t tell.

The worst of it was the nausea. It hit her in unrelenting waves, crashing against her like an uneasy sea on a rock. Even water made her vomit. This aspect worried her; if she was in fact carrying multiples, she’d need to eat. After eight long weeks she was finally able to return to the facility for her blood draw. It confirmed what she already knew: she was, in fact, pregnant.

“Your HGH is really high,” the nurse commented as she looked over the test results on her computer monitor. The short, thin sound of her mouse clicking punctuated the silence of the exam room. “So you probably are having those twins.”

Olivia was practically vibrating at the thought of it. Right now, at that moment, she had two babies sitting in her womb. And they would grow bigger and bigger until she could no longer hide it, and she’d waddle and stretch and feel them kicking until she got the chance to push them out-- naturally, of course.

Dressed in her paper gown, Olivia followed the nurse to another room for her ultrasound. After confirming that the babies were viable, she would live the rest of her pregnancy in the facility. That part of it was almost as exciting as the pregnancy itself. No more work or school or responsibilities, just spending each and every day, sun up to sun down, living as a baby factory. She felt like she had won the lottery.

Olivia reclined on the examination table, pulling her gown up over her belly. It looked so flat to her. Her whole body seemed flat, like she was comprised of sharp lines and harsh angles. Barely any ass, tits like tiny pears. She wanted to fill out, to look womanly. She tried to remember what the average weight gain for a twin pregnancy was but was suddenly so nervous to actually see the babies inside her that the number escaped her.

Cool jelly spread over her lower belly, above the dark and coarse bush of her pubic hair. The knowledge that sometimes pregnancies were not viable nagged like a fishing hook in the back of her brain. She tried to shove it down but it poked at her, making her heart pound. There was a large screen mounted on the wall above her gaze, and as the rounded end of the wand pressed into her pelvis, her full bladder aching in protest, hazy blue and white shapes came into focus.

“I see one baby,” the nurse said, pausing on the bean-shaped figure to snap a few digital pictures. The embryo did not look like a baby at all yet, just a little legume with a tiny rhythmic twitching inside the black cavern of its curved shape. The sublime reality of it left her feeling a surprising emptiness, not a numbness or regret or pain, but an immense emotional spaciousness, as if the awareness of her pregnancy had made the interior of her heart so vast that she could no longer find its inner border; her heart had not grown three sizes, but three hundred.

There’s a baby in me, she thought, watching the pulse of its heart. I’m pregnant.

The technician moved the wand and the shape disappeared momentarily, the black and noise-mottled space of her womb filling the screen, before it came into view again. The little bean with its tiny heart. Or so she thought.

“And that’s baby number two,” the other woman announced confidently, an I told ya so tone in her voice.

This time Olivia could not help but smile. Her hands came to her mouth, the corners of her grin poking out from behind her fingers, tears welling in her eyes.

“I knew it,” she said, her voice trembling with gentle laughter. “I knew there was more than one.”

The nurse nodded and made an mmhm sound as she clicked and typed. “That’s usually the goal here. Good job, mama.”

The technician measured the length of the baby, checked its heart, then swiped again. Another figure came onto the screen.

Olivia blinked, then stammered, “Is-- is that--?”

Even though she was wearing a mask, it was clear that the nurse was grinning.

“Well, mama,” she said. “Looks like you get extra credit. We’ve got triplets.”

Olivia gasped into the cup of her hands, the shocked sound of her own voice amplified in her ears. Triplets. Three babies. She had three babies inside her body.

The wand moved around her belly, her urine-swollen bladder creaking. The tears in the corners of her eyes had started making fat, hot trails down her cheeks. Her entire body was buzzing, her shoulders shaking. Olivia was so amped up that when the fourth baby came into view she did not gasp, but exclaimed in laughter.

“Four!” she cried out, her smile so broad that her teeth gleamed under the bluish light of the screen. She felt insane, her eyes clenching shut as her body shook in silent, joyous delight. “I’m having four babies!”

“Not so fast,” the nurse said, moving the wand around again. She took a moment to confirm then corrected, “Looks like one of the embryos split. There are 100% five babies in here.”

Olivia was still laughing as the room filled with the faces of amazed medical staff.

It felt serendipitous, the kind of good luck synchronicity that happens so rarely it almost looks like magic. Not only did the pregnancy take on the first try, but Olivia had hit triple cherries with a set of healthy and viable quintuplets. One of the four embryos they had implanted decided it wanted a friend and had split along the way, the first in the history of the state’s breeding program. As the doctor took over the ultrasound wand, his sharp eyes glued unblinking to the display screen, nurses surrounded the very pregnant mother-to-be, taking her hands in theirs and rubbing her shoulders.

“It’s gonna be okay, mama, you’re in good hands,” they assured her, perhaps mistaking her tears and shaking for that of fear.

“We have quints in here all the time, just not usually on the first try,” another explained. Their tones had shifted instantaneously from flat and clinical to soft and matronly.

Olivia watched the screen, pressing the thin paper gown to her face to absorb the moisture on her cheeks, her happiness flaring again as they double, then triple, checked the number of babies inside her. One, two, three, four, five. Five babies. Quintuplets.

“All heartbeats look good,” the doctor commented aloud. “They’re all a good size, all measuring eight weeks. Looks like the new techniques are as efficient as we hoped.”

When they were finished, they walked her back into the original exam room. Someone had already taken her luggage and had been kind enough to fold the clothes she’d worn to the appointment on the end of the table. She sat them in a neat pile on her lap, her still-naked legs dangling in the air on the end of the high seat. The physician and two nurses this time joined her in the room.

The older man said, “You must be feeling a lot of different emotions right now, Olivia. It’s understandable. I just want you to know you are in good hands, and with how successful this implantation has been you’ll be receiving all the extra care you and your babies need.”

“I’m not scared,” she answered, her voice even and confident. It felt like she was reassuring them rather than the other way around. “This is exactly what I wanted.”

Nodding, he replied, “That’s good. We have to get started right away. Are you nauseated at all?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “It’s been...it’s been really bad, actually. I think I’ve lost weight.”

“That’s normal. You have five babies inside you, five times the hormones, five times the nausea. I’m going to prescribe you something to take the edge off, it may make you kind of drowsy. That’s probably for the best as you need to rest.”

She nodded and he continued,

“I’m not putting you on bedrest just yet. It’s good for you to be able to move around while you still can. But we need you burning very few calories and taking in as many as possible. Like we mentioned before, our patients don’t usually end up with these higher order multiples until their second or even third pregnancies, and by then they have quite a bit of weight stored up from their previous ones. You’re eight weeks pregnant right now and you’ve likely lost a bit of weight so technically we’re a little behind, but it’s still early so that’s not too bad. It just means we need to be very aggressive with your nutrition.”

Move around while you still can. Olivia’s fingers curled around the pile of clothes in her lap. Her sex was moistening. She was going to get so big she couldn’t move. It occurred to her that she might accidentally wet through her paper gown.

She’d never even seen someone pregnant with five babies before, let alone going full term in a government-sponsored breeding program. She tried to imagine just how big she was going to get and her imagination tapped out at a memory of a triplet belly she’d seen long ago, so big that it filled the woman’s lap like a scarred and fleshy boulder, her navel a dark and distorted flat line as far out as her knees. And Olivia was having a set of twins more than that.

Finally finding her words, she asked, “How much weight do you think I’ll gain?”

Moving his head in a subtle side-to-side motion, as if to say maybe this or that, the doctor answered, “It depends. We aim for our quad and quint parents to gain around 100 pounds usually, but as I said they typically have some fat stores built up already. I will consult with my colleagues to develop something more concrete, but 100 pounds would be my minimum for you.”

This time, the thrill in her stomach was spiked with nervousness, maybe fear, the feeling like a jet of black ink in the pearlescent melange of her emotions. Curvy and womanly was one thing but 100 pounds was something else entirely. And if it ended up being even more than that, Olivia could end up nearly doubling her weight during this pregnancy.

Her hand moved instinctively to her lower belly. She imagined her babies swimming around inside her like five minnows in a fish bowl.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll do it. Whatever you need me to do, I can do it.”

Bobbing his head affirmatively, the doctor said, “I know you can.”

He turned back to his computer and began typing something into her chart. He continued, “I’m checking you into our full-time facility today. You can get dressed and we’ll get you a wheel chair to take you down there-- like I said, we’ve got to save you some calories. I’ll put in an order for the anti-nausea medication, an appetite stimulant, and a meal sent to your room. All our patients have access to a 24/7 cafeteria but you’ve had a long day so I’ll have it brought to you. I should have more information about your treatment plan by the end of the day.”

As Olivia buttoned up her jeans, she wondered how long it would be before she outgrew them. Alone in the exam room for the first time since she’d checked in, she rubbed her palms over her belly, lifting her shirt to look down at its flatness. With each moment that passed, the five babies inside her were getting larger, growing stronger, and with the intense nutrition regiment coming her way that process was only going to happen even faster.

The two nurses wheeled her through the halls of the state hospital until they reached two large secured doors. One of them scanned their identification card and type in a code to the metal keypad on the wall, a deep and hollow thud of a lock opening sounding through the hall, the two doors swinging open slowly by their electrical controls. Above them, the words OBSTETRIC LIVING were painted in bold black letters.

The inside of the full-time living facility was like a completely different building. If they hadn’t only just passed through the doors from one wing to another, Olivia would have thought she wasn’t even in the same state. The dark wood walls and soft ambient lighting, the portraits on the walls-- originals, not prints-- made the area look more like a luxury hotel than the wing of a hospital. The floors were shiny, clearly freshly mopped, and large, leafy potted plants made the air feel clean and invigorating. Spacious open windows let the yellow sun in, the atmosphere soft and warm as the morning. This sort of comfort did not readily exist since the catastrophe. She’d never been in a house this nice, let alone a hospital.

While there were a few scrubs-clad nurses moving through the halls, initially Olivia did not see any other patients. She wondered if the program was not that big, or if the other patients were in another part of the living center. As they wheeled her to the nursing hub, an open space at the end of the hallway where the nurses’ desks, computers, and security screens sat, Olivia saw a woman dressed in street clothes leaning her elbow against the surface of the desk. Her back was facing them, her long auburn hair falling down between her shoulderblades. From behind, it looked as if she was wearing a cropped yellow tee, the scalloped hem reaching only halfway down her back. Her light blue jeans were loose around her shapely legs. As they got closer, Olivia noticed that her feet were bare.

The nurse pushing the chair behind her head called playfully, “Missy, what are you doing out here? Don’t make me get the feeding tube.”

The woman turned around. Olivia’s jaw dropped.

Her belly was so enormous that it cut a wide and slow circle in the air as she spun to face them. Olivia could see now that it wasn’t that the yellow t-shirt was cropped on purpose, but that compared to the body it was attempting to cover it shrunk as though originally designed for a toddler. Between the size of her belly, so large she appeared near the end of a full-term pregnancy with twins, and her breasts, nearly as big as Olivia’s head, the bottom of the shirt only had enough stretch to cover the top shelf of the woman’s distended middle. The closer she got, the clearer she could see the thin, cracked pattern of red stretch marks around the protruding navel, the baby-filled womb jutting through the open V of the woefully inadequate jeans beneath it.

The woman reached her free arm out, rubbing a large, irregular circle on her mound, the other resting on the nurses’ station for support.

“The babies were restless,” she said, shifting her weight from one hip to another, her spine arched from the pull of her uterus. “I needed to stretch my legs before they kicked their way out of me.”

Olivia had never seen a belly so large in real life before. It looked like she could give birth to two babies any minute. Despite their size, her breasts were round and perky inside her shirt, her nipples hard and visible beneath the fabric. They sat perfectly on top of the distended orb of her belly like ripe cantaloupes, the bullseyes of her nipples directly in their centers.

As if only just noticing her, Missy chirped, “Oh! Is this a new member? Did we finally get another one?”

The nurse not pushing the wheelchair broke off from their group and moved into the station, saying, “She’s right there, Missy, why don’t you ask her?”

“Right,” said the redhead, shifting her weight again, her belly rocking. “Sorry about that. I’m Missy. Did you get accepted into the program?”

Olivia nodded silently. Seated in the wheelchair, Missy’s navel was right at eye level. Her belly looked enormous from where she was seated. It was amazing the woman could stand at all.

Missy looked above and behind Olivia, her blue eyes flicking up beneath her thick, dark lashes.

“How many is she having?” she asked the nurse still handing the handles of her chair.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” came a coarse and irritated voice from the space behind her.

Her big mouth pulled into a smile, her teeth white and her grin foxlike.

“Right,” she said again. There was a syrupy quality to her voice. “HIPAA and all that.”

The hand caressing her huge belly slid down its distended curve, tracing the shape of the underside, the tight flesh stretched out and away from her pelvis, until it landed to comfortably hold up the weight from below. When the other woman looked down at her, their gaze meeting, Olivia almost looked away from the intensity of it.

Missy asked, “How many are you having?”

Her mouth was so cottony it took a moment to answer.

She stammered, “I, um...five. I’m having quintuplets.”

Missy’s mouth dropped open, her brow furrowed. She wobbled, unstable, in place for a split second.

“No way,” she responded, looking incredulously from one nurse to the other. When they nodded in confirmation, the redhead asked, “You’re having quints? And this is your first pregnancy, right?”

Olivia scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. She looked as if she’d just found out she was one number short of a winning lotto ticket.

“That is unbelievable!” she exclaimed, smacking her flattened hand down on the desk. She widened her stance to better support the weight of her belly. “This is my third and I’m only having four!”

From behind her computer, the nurse said, “Take it up with the doctors, they’re the ones knocking y’all up.”

“You’re having quadruplets?” Olivia found herself asking out loud, her eyes locked onto the bobbing button of Missy’s out-turned navel like a fish to a lure.

Placing her hand on her lower back, her belly pushed out even farther, the other woman answered proudly, “I am. I’m 24 weeks today.”

Olivia sputtered, “But you’re huge!”

The outburst made her cover her mouth in embarrassment, her face burning. Mercifully, the other woman did not appear offended, and instead barked out a pleased laugh.

“Sure am,” she said, rocking her hips back and forth and using both hands to circle around her belly. “It’s my third litter so I know a few tricks to get them nice and big. Maybe if you’re good I can show ya.”

Her face burned hotter, this time from something other than embarrassment.

“L...litter?” she repeated, her voice low and hesitant.

The quadruplet mother smirked, turning to the side as if to demonstrate just how far her belly stuck out from her torso. Olivia could see that there were thick, dark stretch marks on her hips, the lines striping on top of each other like she’d been clawed by a tiger. The overhead light reflected off her skin, the flesh pulled so tight that it had started to turn shiny.

“You’ve got a lot to learn about this place, dear,” she said with a wink.

From behind the computer, the nurse said, “Alright, Olivia, you’re all checked in. Let’s get you to your room.”

Her fingertips dragging across her belly, pale yellow lines following behind the digits, Missy called, “It was nice to meet you...Olivia.”

As she was wheeled away, Olivia didn’t know if she was relieved or regretful to be leaving the encounter. Her nervousness must have been palpable because the nurse pushing the chair said,

“Don’t pay her any mind, Missy is just a diva.”

As they made their way to her room, Olivia began seeing more expectant patients in the halls and through the open doorways of their rooms. Some were barely showing at all and some were cradling huge bellies in their arms, even larger than Missy’s. For a brief flash, Olivia caught sight through the doorway of a patient reclined on their bed, their naked belly towering so high over them that she couldn’t even see their face.

Caressing her still-flat belly, she asked, “How common are quints around here, exactly?”

“More than they used to be,” the nurse answered, stopping them in front of a locked door, inserting a key, and opening it. “Still not as common as triplets or quadruplets, but we’ve had a fair handful.”

Like the rest of the wing, the private bedroom nearly resembled a hotel room save for the medical equipment. Across from the bed was dresser with a television, a vanity beside it; against the wall was a refrigerator, even a small seating area with a table and chairs. Attached to the room was a private bathroom with a large Jacuzzi tub and a shower. For a moment Olivia forget why she was here and felt like she was on vacation.

The nurse produced two pills and a paper cup of water, offering them to the still-seated patient.

“This is for your nausea, and your appetite,” she said. Olivia took them and swallowed.

Shortly after, an orderly knocked on the open door while Olivia was sorting her clothes into the dresser. The staff member was a male in his 20s wheeling a cart with several trays on it, the lights gliding off the silver domes.

“I’ve got your lunch here,” he said, pushing it into the bedroom and parking it beside the bed. “You must be special, they don’t usually have us bringing this stuff to you guys until you’re too big to get it yourself.”

The lunch consisted of two grilled ham and cheese sandwiches, a large plate of fries slathered in gooey yellow cheese, and a strawberry milkshake in a tall glass, a pillowy tower of whipped cream and a bright red cherry topping the fatty drink. The effects of the medication had started enough that Olivia’s nausea had all but completely ebbed away. She ate both sandwiches, the fries, and the drink, surprising even herself with her appetite. Her full belly pressed against the rigid waistband of her jeans, the soft and thin pad of flesh just barely puffing out over the horizontal line of denim.

She placed the now-empty cart outside and closed the door behind her. Olivia stood in front of the large vanity mirror, turning to the side and lifting her shirt. If she squinted hard enough, she could see the slight outward curve that her meal had caused. Delicately, she traced her index finger over her middle, tracing an oval around her navel. She thought of how big Missy was, how she looked ready to pop with twins and was only six months along, and how she herself had one more baby than even that.

“This is just the beginning,” she said.

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