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pernoe · 5 days ago

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Graveyard of Reincarnation

Written by @pregnancyismykink in a short burst of inspiration. Let me know what you think :)

“Hey George!”

The man in question turns his head towards Jacqueline just as she steps past the old iron gate of Hartford Cemetery, a huge grin on his face.

“Hello Love. You’re early today.”

He finishes sweeping the dark stone steps of the mausoleum before wiping his sweat.

Jacqueline nods, her backpack slung across her shoulder, dark black hair swaying side to side with each step.

“Got out of class early today. Figured I could get some studying done before my shift.”

George huffs, shaking his head.

“You youngin’s don’t get a break do you?”

Jacqueline chuckles, tossing her backpack into the small shed that had been turned into a small office/storage space for the living members of the graveyard.

“It’ll be worth it once I get my degree. At least I hope so.”

Studying to be a coroner isn’t easy, but she truly enjoys the work and the art. Even if her family thinks she’s odd for it.

“I’m sure you will do fine, Love.”

Jacqueline grins, winking at the older man. He winks back and then goes back to his job, cleaning up the gravestones.

She smiles softly to herself, taking a moment to breathe in the fresh air, to admire the sweeping field of the cemetery, still amazed to this day at the stillness that permeates the air. The wildflowers sway softly in the breeze, the most beautiful pop of color against the vast green and gray field. One day she would paint this field, in all its glory, but today is not that day. She has other work to do.

George waves from the open window of his truck as he pulls out of the lot, the grumble of the engine betraying its true age. Jacqueline’s own ‘98 Ford wasn’t much better so she really couldn’t judge.

She turns back to the graveyard, noting the way the setting sun shrouded the field in an orange glow, her favorite time of night. Truly magnificent. As was the sudden warmth she felt wrapping around her ankles and wrists, guiding her forward.

“I missed you,” she whispers. She can’t see it of course, but the presence always came to her, just as the sun set, just in time to watch it disappear over the horizon.

It guides her, a gentle push and pull on her wrists, guiding her deeper into the field, pointing her in the direction of the spirit next in line to be reincarnated.

The breeze blows through her hair, dancing playfully over her shoulders and around her waist, making her giggle as it gives her a teasing push forward. She’s never once felt fear of this…thing, even on the cold winter nights when she’s all alone in the middle of the fields. She still doesn’t know what it is, but she does know that she trusts it, and she enjoys the company.

There’s a gentle shove to her hip and she turns right, careful not to step on the graves as she passes. The sun disappears for the night just as she stops in front of a small, gray tombstone.

“Michael Ranier, born June 6th, 1965, died July 15th, 1965.”

The warmth around her wrists grows somber, drooping lower on her arms, making her shoulders heavy with the loss of such a young life. But she doesn’t linger on the loss, doesn’t let it dig into her.

Instead, she smiles, curtsying.

“It’s very nice to meet you Michael. How about I help you try this life thing out again?”

The warmth around her wrists grows playful again, clearly overjoyed with the change in mood. She would welcome as many souls as she could, and give them all the chance to try again.

She shrugs out of her jacket, her flesh prickling at the chill of the breeze, but it doesn’t bother her as she lays the fabric onto the ground and then sits cross-legged on top of it.

“Let’s do this, shall we?”

The warmth gives her a gentle push, urging her on and she smiles, closing her eyes.

The latin comes easy, slipping from her lips, a near silent whisper in the night. It flows from her tongue, just as it had years ago when she’d been chosen.

The air around her grows heavier, quieter, all of the lost souls pausing in their melancholy to watch as she invites Michael inside of her. The fabric of her skirt flutters in the wind and she shudders, continuing to chant the latin words that had been ingrained in her brain. The breeze grows stronger, a chill scraping over her shoulders, like claws down her back, and she shivers.

His life had been one of horror, one of pain and fear. She gasps as his life washes over her, filling her with so many painful, blurry memories. His life, though brief, was incredibly unfair, and she finds herself grateful to be able to provide him a new life, without so much fear.

“Come forth,” she whispers finally. Just as the words leave her mouth, she throws her head back at the sheer force of power surging through her. The world explodes, light and dark swirling through her mind. It never hurts. Never scares her. But it overwhelms her every single time she feels the first tendrils of the soul creeping inside of her.

It goes slow, creeping between her legs, pressing between them with a gentle but insistent force. She falls back to the ground, letting her legs fall open, welcoming the soul into her body.

It tingles, the chill of the soul mixing with the warmth of her slick, wet heat. But it also feels good. It slips past her lips and fills her up the way no man could ever dream. She spreads her legs even further, places a hand on her lower belly, feels the start of the swell, and she knows it will soon be heavy enough to make her unsteady.

“Come forth,” she whispers again, and the force grows heavier, making her gasp. Her chest is heaving, breasts heavy and aching to be held. The soul grows larger, and she watches as her stomach visibly swells, pushing against the thin fabric of her undershirt. Her skin stretches, her belly button pops, and then the world grows silent once more.

She lays there for a moment, her heavy breaths the only noise for miles. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of this.

“Hngh,” she groans, sitting up with clear difficulty. Seeing her belly from this angle is always her favorite. It sits so heavy in her lap, round and beautiful. She runs her hands over the swell, impressed at the size of it.

She doesn’t want kids. Ever. But she doesn’t mind giving these souls new chances. Would never deny them the right to come back and try again.

“You will have a much better life this time. I promise,” she whispers, rubbing her belly. A careful kick answers and she nods, a promise lingering in her heart.

“Jacqueline, I didn’t think you’d be in today.”

Jacqueline grins and shakes her head, her heavy coat covering her belly.

“I had some extra time so I figured I would stop by. How is the mother in room 6 doing?”

Jess’ smile falters and Jacqueline knows the answer before she continues.

“Dr. Langford doesn’t have high hopes. He’s going to speak with her this afternoon. He doesn’t think the baby will make it.”

Jacqueline feels her gut flip, the soul feeling how close he is to life again, and feigns worry.

“May I?”

Jess nods. “Go ahead. I’m sure she would like someone there with her.”

Jacqueline heads down the hall, footsteps loud in the quiet of the hospital hallway. Room 6 appears and she takes only a moment to brace herself before knocking on the door, plastering a smile on her face.

The woman in the room looks up as she walks in, her eyes rimmed with red, her cheeks pale. The soul in Jacqueline’s stomach flips again, anxious to get out.

“Hi Marianne, my name is Jacqueline. I’m a volunteer with the hospital. Is there anything I can get you today?”

Marianne shakes her head, clearly defeated. Her husband sleeps restlessly on the couch in the corner.

“I can get you some juice or water? Or I can sit with you for company. You are not alone,” Jacqueline says softly, sitting in the chair by the bed. “They call me a miracle worker here in this hospital,” Jacqueline says with a wink.

Marianne lets a small smile peek through and Jacqueline knows she has her opening. She continues to talk, just rambling on as Marianne listens quietly. She may not say it, but Jacqueline can see Marianne’s shoulders relaxing, her body losing the tension, even if only for the moment. Jacqueline continues.

While she talks, she lets her legs spread, her loose pants comfortable enough for her to spread them without worry. She can feel the eager soul already pushing through her, filling her once more. She has to hide the gasps, has to hide the pleasure she feels. She leans forward, holding Marianne’s hand, letting her legs fall open more.

Marianne cracks her first full smile at a stupid joke Jacqueline says and it gives Jacqueline the perfect excuse to hide her gasp under a laugh. The warmth grows wider and wider, and then it disappears, wrapping around her wrist once in thanks before disappearing into Marianne.

And just like that, her job is done. Michael will be born to a mother who will adore him, and who he will love in return. He will never remember the pain of his past life, but Jacqueline will. She will hold the fear for him so he can live without it.

Marianne falls asleep holding Jacqueline’s hand, her first restful sleep since coming to the hospital early with too much bleeding. Jacqueline sneaks out in the dead of night, looking back only once, and she knows the soul will be loved this time around.

At 7:32AM Marianne gives birth to a beautiful, healthy baby boy. He’s small, due to his early arrival, but the doctors say everything has developed perfectly. It’s nothing short of a miracle, they claim.

Jacqueline can’t help but smile to herself as she continues to organize the files, listening to Jess talk.

“She named the boy Michael. I think that is such a cute name,” Jess says, gossiping along. Only Jacqueline knows the true meaning of the name choice, and it makes Jacqueline’s heart swell. This is exactly what she was given this power for.

END

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pernoe · 6 days ago

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Request 468.6

6. Request: What about a sleep paralysis demon impregnating the person who's hallucinating them? (Up to your personal preference if they're down bad or not up for it, haha)

It always starts the same. Eyes opening, and the creeping dread of trying to move and being unable to. Realizing that trying won't make it happen, and that I know what comes next, no matter how much I'd love to deny it.

My gaze slowly tracks around the corners of my bedroom, dark and shadowed, looking for it. Waiting for it to slowly melt out of the darkness and take whatever monstrous shape it so chooses. And there it is, detaching from the shadows behind the door, its movements sinuous and silent. I can never see it in great detail, but it's tall and lean this time, moving on two legs and silent feet I can't see past my own bed as it prowls close. I can't so much as twitch a finger as it pauses to survey me on my back on the bed, entirely at its mercy. Fighting never changes anything, so I resolve to stare at the ceiling instead of staring at it this time.

Long, claw-tipped hands pull the quilt down the bed, revealing my bare legs. Wearing only panties and an over-sized t-shirt, claws scrape my skin as it pulls the panties down and off as well. The shirt it shoves upward, bunching below my breasts, until I'm exposed from the ribs down.

A cold, bony hand spreads over my belly, slightly concave as I lay on my back. Instantly, and without my volition, a strange warmth spreads under the hand. The warmth increases until the base of my spine is tingling and wetness is gleaming between my thighs. My breath hitches only slightly as I experience an orgasm without the ability to writhe, clench, or otherwise respond.

Coolness radiates off of it as it braces itself over me, its hide smooth and leathery. Eyes firmly shut, I wait.

Its cock is cold as well, as it ruts against my sex, slicking the head first before slotting against my opening. Despite its long, spindly appearance, its cock is thick enough to stretch me as it pushes in, and in, and in. My body remains still and pliant as the monster starts to rut into me, quick and hard. Eyes screwed shut, I prepare for what I know happens next.

Its thrusts speed up, low growling grunts issuing somewhere above my head as the huge cock begins to twitch. Thrusting hard once more, it stills buried as deeply into me as it can possibly get. Its cold seed floods into me, the fit so tight it can only fill my womb, and so much that pressure builds in my pelvis, pushing my lower belly out to brush against the monster filling me.

Eventually, the flood stops, and the thing withdraws, not a drop of its seed spilling from my body. I open my eyes again to watch it retreat into the deep shadows behind the door, and then my bedroom is still and quiet again. All at once, my body is mine again, and I immediately rise on my elbows to survey the changes.

My otherwise slightly concave abdomen rises in a slight bulge between my hipbones, cool to the touch. My womb, filled yet again with something dark and monstrous. Powerless to change it, and very aware of it after so long and so many similar nights, I fish my panties off the floor, pull the quilt up, and flop back onto my pillows.

In the morning, my slight bulge is the same, and I go about my life. I get up, eat, drink coffee, go to work. I do that for two weeks with no change, no more nocturnal visits, no waking up in the night. Its easy enough to pretend its a prolonged bout of bloating, selecting stretchy pants from my closet when I dress. And always, always, my belly is cool to the touch, whether I'm scrubbing down in the shower or sliding my hand over it as I reach down between my thighs for some relief before going to sleep at night.

At the end of the fortnight, as I move around the house cleaning up after supper and unpacking my lunch bag, I suddenly feel pressure behind that small bump. Dressed in my usual lounge clothes of an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, I have to press my hand to my middle to see what's changed. Between my hips, the small bulge has pressed slightly outward, colder than it has been, weight settling in my hips. As I stand there, my belly pushes oh so slowly out, pressing into my palm. After a few moments, the pressure lessens, and it stops growing.

Tonight is the night, then. I carry on with my chores, pausing as my womb expands every so often, pressure and weight settling in my hips. I start to feel deep flutters, and by the time of night comes where I should go to bed comes, I look maybe halfway through a normal pregnancy, the fluttering prolonged and only just visible from the outside. I strip in the bathroom, watching my belly in the mirror as I brush my teeth and wash my face, my body otherwise unchanged except for my ballooning womb.

Sliding naked into bed, I settle in my usual position on my back, smoothing my hands over the dome rising from my middle. The skin is chilly, smooth and unmarked as another burst of growth presses it out against my palms, whatever is growing inside bumping lightly where my warm hands rest. Sleep comes swift and easy.

When my eyes open next, I'm otherwise frozen in place. Glancing around, I'm only a little surprised by the state my belly, the modest bump having burgeoned out to a full-term pregnancy in the night, the occupant heaving and roiling under my skin. I search the shadows, waiting, and sure enough, the tall, lanky demon slips into the room.

In some horrible approximation of a voice, it hisses, "Oh, you have done very well this time."

Like a switch flipping, my swollen middle squeezes up and in, tightening around the monster's offspring. At first, it heaves harder, but the lanky monster touches a single claw to my belly and it quiets inside. It isn't painful like a normal birth should be, the contractions rolling through me every minute or so. I can feel my cervix open slowly, and the monster pulls the quilt off the bed again. It props each of my legs up and to the side, exposing my sex as contraction after contraction forces my body to open. I can only lay there as the offspring passes through my opened cervix, squeezing downward with every spasm, making my sex bulge between my legs. My lips start to spread around the monstrous head, relentless as it forces its way out. I can't speak or scream or do anything as my lips stretch and stretch, and then the head is finally freed. I want to pant or gasp at the feeling, another spasm coming right on the heels of the previous, and my lips start to bulge again. Whatever form this thing takes doesn't seem to have shoulders like a human baby, but it takes three more spasms to finally be pushed from my body.

It drags itself from between my thighs, my belly deflating as I watch. The thing I just birthed slips off the bed and reaches for the monster that sired it. Something tugs behind my navel, and then its entirely free of me, my middle concave again, my naked body unmarked. The first monster reaches over to rest a grotesque hand on my belly again, warmth blooming until a earth-shaking orgasm clenches through me.

Both monsters creep into the shadows behind the door, the sire hissing, "Until the next time. You always produce the most potent of terrors."

-Rambles

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pernoe · 8 days ago

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Darkmoney1

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pernoe · 12 days ago

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TheReus5

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pernoe · 12 days ago

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ECHO

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pernoe · 12 days ago

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えびふりゃ

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pernoe · 12 days ago

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「ちょ、ちょっとリン！？」 | UnNeoNal

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pernoe · 13 days ago

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My Sister's Visit

MY SISTER’S VISIT

My parents had two children. I was the younger by two years. My sister, Belle, was born on the wedding night, which is how she got her name - she was my parents’ “wedding Belle.” My name, Tyler, didn’t have any meaning to it at all, but it was and is my name, and I have never wanted another one.

Belle was very average physically for most of her youth. As she entered high school, I really noticed her hair becoming smoother and sleeker, her breasts filling out more but not overwhelming her body, and her face becoming more like a young woman and less like a child. I could agree with anyone that she was certainly pretty, but she was my sister, and my body thankfully knew that.

I had a few short relationships in high school, but there was always the knowledge in the back of my mind that we would probably split to different colleges afterward and I was afraid to get too deep. I never went beyond making out with any of the girls I dated. Two of them broke up with me because of this.

I turned 18 in October of my senior year. By that time I had narrowed down my college choices to Cal or Oregon. I had scholarships available for both, so it was really just figuring out which one would offer me the better courses. Belle was at Cal, so there was at least someone I knew, but I also didn’t want to seem like I was tagging along in my sister’s footsteps.

Decisions, decisions.

Over the summer, Belle had announced to us that she was pregnant. It hadn’t been intentional, but she seemed to be in a good, loving relationship and planned to keep the baby and continue her studies at the same time. Our parents, while they were a little judgmental of her actions, accepted that she was an adult, and since they weren’t paying for her college anyway (Belle was on a full ride), it was ultimately her decision what she wanted to do, as long as she understood that they wouldn’t be able to raise a baby if she ran into hardship. She was due in January, and decided that she would rather come home for Thanksgiving this year instead of Christmas to avoid being away from her physician at a critical time.

Belle’s car pulled into our driveway long after dinner on Wednesday night. We all stayed up to wait for her, and when she carefully got out she was greeted by a screaming hug from our mother. Dad stood by for his more formal hug. I tried to get away with our old hand slap and fist bump, but Belle wasn’t having it. “Come on, Tyler, we’re both adults now, let’s hug like normal people!” She pulled me in with one arm before I could object.

Obviously I had seen pictures of her. She was posting them frequently on Facebook, and she had been looking pregnant since July. And I had seen her get out of her car, I knew her belly was there. But when she hugged me, some part of me clicked and was very aware of her presence and her form, my mind starting to map the curves I could briefly feel pressing into me.

So it had happened. I was finally starting to have a physical response to my sister.

I knew this would be a possibility. Ever since I can remember, I’ve been interested in pregnant women. I didn’t realize it was a sexual thing until my first reproductive health class in school, when I found myself at home with the textbook experimentally touching myself to an illustration of a pregnant woman. I had even imagined a couple of my girlfriends pregnant and had no shortage of masturbation sessions with those mental images. And now, apparently, based on my slightly elevated heart rate and increased pressure in my jeans, my sister’s pregnancy had decided to blur the family lines in my head.

We stayed up late talking and catching up. I tried not to stare, but sometimes the way Belle moved would put her body into greater prominence and I would find myself locked on to her belly. I never looked longer than a few seconds before catching myself and returning to the conversation. Eventually our parents went to bed, leaving just Belle and me in the living room.

“Well, dear brother, should we break out the Switch for old time’s sake?”

I smiled. “You bet!” Belle always got better grades than me (slightly), but one thing I always had over her was my MarioKart skill. As I turned on the console and handed out controllers, I realized that I actually hadn’t played much since she left home, and I hoped that wouldn’t hinder me too much.

As it turned out, playing MarioKart was like riding a bike. I was racing as well as I ever had, but what surprised me was that Belle was beating me on my best tracks! Evidently she noticed this too, because she taunted me - “Come on, Tyler, I’m just pregnant, you don’t have to let me win!”

“Oh, I’m not!” I assured her as I fired a red shell at her. “I think someone’s been practicing.”

“Okay, maybe I’ve been going down to the dorm’s media center a few nights a week for a quick race or two. Or five. I guess this is a race of equals now.”

She recovered from the spin the shell had put her in, and was just starting to accelerate as I passed. When we hit the finish line, she overtook and beat me by a fraction of a second.

“Nice job, sis,” I said. “More?”

“Maybe one more.”

The next race proceeded much like the previous one until the second lap. As we were coming around a hairpin turn, Belle made a hissing sound and a hand flew to her belly, sending her kart into a bad spin.

I instantly paused and looked at her. “Everything okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah, just a Braxton-Hicks contraction. It’ll pass, just give me a moment.”

“Those are the fake ones, right?”

“Yes. I get them every few days. They’re usually not too bad, but sometimes…”

“...they can be a real shock,” I finished.

“Exactly.” She let out a deep breath. “Whoo, I think that’s the worst of it. You can unpause now.”

I felt bad winning that race because it really wasn’t Belle’s fault that she dropped to tenth place, but she called it fair and we decided to turn in for the night.

Thanksgiving Day was full of preparation. Mom banished us all from the kitchen, finding our help to be more stressful than doing it all herself, so we had to find ways to amuse ourselves without getting in the way. I decided to jump into one of my train simulators on my laptop, while Dad disappeared to the garage. I heard the sounds of power tools every now and then. Belle mostly tried to study, and she had a video call with her boyfriend and his family around noon. I tried not to eavesdrop, but what little I did hear sounded good. It seemed like they were very serious and his family was excited about their new little addition.

I still couldn’t stop myself from casting surreptitious (I hoped) glances at my sister’s belly. I couldn’t explain it, pregnancy just drew me in a way that I never expected. A couple of times I think she caught me before I could look away, but she never said anything about it. I just kept building my routes and tried to act normal.

We had a Thanksgiving dinner that couldn’t be beat and then followed our family tradition by going out to a movie afterward. What we saw would probably never be my favorite, but if it was ever on and I happened to be in the same room I would probably still sit and watch.

Back at home, our parents turned in early, and Belle decided to head for her room to work on finishing the last bit of a project so that she could have the rest of the holiday weekend free. I stayed up with some TV in the living room before I eventually decided I should probably go to bed myself.

Our house was arranged so that the master suite was on one end and the extra bedrooms were on the other. I headed down my hallway and noted Belle’s door was still cracked with the light on. She was sitting on her bed with her college stuff, but looked up when she heard my footsteps. “Heading to bed?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I replied. “I must have had too much turkey. I’m never ready for bed this early.”

“Just think, when you’re in college, this really will be an early night. I probably still have an hour or so of work to do.” She looked around the doorframe. “Why don’t you come in for a moment instead of standing in the hallway?”

I pushed the door open and stood just inside it. Belle’s room was always forbidden to me except by invitation, but there was nothing special about it. The aging and curling N*SYNC poster was still there, just about the only thing that wasn’t in some way pink. There were no clothes strewn on the floor - evidently she wanted to make a good impression now that she was a guest.

“I thought you only had a little bit left,” I said.

“When you’re in college, an hour or two is only a little bit. I hope you’re ready,” she said, “because I sure wasn’t.”

“How are you going to manage it with a baby?” I asked. “I’m not criticizing, just curious.”

“Daniel’s family is in Richmond. They’ve offered as much help as we need.”

“That’s lucky. You guys going to get married?”

She sighed. “Maybe. We haven’t discussed that far yet.” She leaned back and rubbed her hands over her eyes. “Ugh, I need a break.”

I didn’t have a response to that.

“Tyler, can I talk to you about something?”

“Sure,” I shrugged.

“Look, I don’t want to be awkward, I just want to know - have you been staring at me since I’ve been home?”

Caught. I wanted to lie. Somehow, I just couldn’t.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been trying not to. I’ve had a thing for pregnancy for a few years, and I swear it’s not because I’m looking at you that way-” (bullshit) “-but there’s something about it that just captures my attention. I’m not trying to creep or perv on you, I promise.”

Belle seemed to relax. “Well I guess that’s fine. My boyfriend really likes it too, so I’m used to it.” A light giggle escaped her lips. “Have any of your girlfriends ever known about this?”

“No. I was worried they would think it’s weird.”

“Trust me - most fetishes are weird to someone.” It was the first time I’d heard anyone acknowledge this as a fetish, and that caused me to blink in surprise. “You just need to find someone who can work with yours. Did you ever pretend you were knocking them up when you had sex?”

“No, I’ve… never had sex. Never even touched anyone, actually.”

She leaned forward with a shocked look. “I am genuinely surprised,” she said. “Well, no judgment from me. You can’t accidentally get anyone pregnant if you don’t have any sex.”

She cleared her throat. “Well look, I’m totally fine with you looking. Just be careful not to be too obvious or people might get the wrong idea. And if you have any questions, you can definitely ask me. Let’s not be awkward about it.”

“Good luck with that,” I said.

“Okay, I get it, it’s hard to talk about these things with family. But I promise, I will be one hundred percent open and honest with you if there’s anything you want or need to know, okay?”

I nodded. “I think I’ll head for bed now.” I turned toward the door.

“Hey, before you go…”

I looked back at Belle.

“You want to feel her move?”

My eyes snapped to her belly. “It’s a girl?”

“Shit, I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone yet. You’re sworn to secrecy, got it?”

I smirked. “What’s it worth to you?” Our old joke.

“Come here,” she said. She lifted her shirt over her belly, revealing taut pale skin stretched in a pleasant round shape. I thought I saw a small movement inside.

“Did she just…”

Belle laughed. “Yes, that was her. One thing I’m surprised about is that everyone talks about being able to feel the baby kick and move, but they never tell you that you can see it too. Here, put your hand right here…”

Belle took my hand and placed it near where I had seen the bulge. “Now just wait a moment…”

Soon I felt something nudging me from inside. It felt like it might have been an elbow. “I felt that,” I whispered.

“She’s pretty active tonight,” Belle said. “Sometimes she just does a couple of stretches, other times it feels like a whole circus in there.”

She kept her hand on mine for a moment before gently pulling away, but I stayed put, reveling in what I was feeling. Her other hand gently rubbed up and down the curve of her belly. I stuck my other hand in my jeans pocket, trying to be subtle about fixing my discomfort there, but with Belle being so close there was no way she could have missed what I was doing. If she did, she didn’t mention it.

Eventually, I took my hand away. “Thank you, Belle. That was really cool.”

“You think so?” she said.

“What does it feel like for you?” I asked.

“It’s kind of hard to describe for anyone who hasn’t experienced it,” she said. “It’s probably about how you’d expect to feel if you had a living thing stuck between your skin and your bladder. Really, it’s pleasant sometimes and not other times. And it’s really awkward to move. I have all this extra weight in a weird spot.”

I stood there for a moment watching a couple more rolls before finally feeling like I overstayed my welcome. “I should probably go,” I said, turning to the door again.

“Tyler,” Belle said.

“Yes?”

“You’ve really never touched a girl?”

“Apart from kissing, no.”

“Never seen her breasts or anything?”

“I’ve never been around a girl without some sort of clothes on. Bikinis are about as close as I’ve come.”

“Hm.” Belle shifted into more of a sitting position against her pillows. “Close the door,” she said.

I started to leave.

“No, silly, close the door but stay in here.”

My heart began to race. I slowly pushed the door closed until it clicked.

“Okay, ground rules,” she said. “No kissing, no physical contact above the shoulders or below the waist. This is a favor to you and nothing more.”

“What do you-?”

My question was cut off as she grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, revealing a lacy black bra covering her breasts. She tossed the shirt next to her on the bed before reaching back and fiddling with the bra. I saw it loosen, then she pulled it off too and tossed it with the shirt.

I was now staring at my sister’s breasts.

No, correction - don’t think of it that way. I was staring at breasts. Period. My first time seeing a pair of breasts in the open. No textbook diagram, no half-assed cartoon, these were the real deal. They were, to put it mildly, perfect. Their size complemented Belle perfectly, and the way they rested on her pregnant belly was, to my mind, a perfect expression of womanhood. Her nipples were not dark but dusky, definitely contrasting with the rest of her skin but not the deep brown I had been taught to expect.

Belle took a deep breath and let it out. Her breasts followed the movement beautifully. “So like I said, nothing above the shoulders or below the waist. You can touch anywhere in between, but no mouth contact, hands only. If you need to masturbate, go ahead, but I won’t help you. This is for you alone, in this moment only. You won’t get another chance at this.” She smiled. “But I didn’t want to send you to college without having experienced at least one naked girl in your life.”

I must have looked like a deer caught in the headlights. I stood there for a moment, not knowing how to proceed. Belle then reached out and took my wrist, guiding my hand to her closest breast. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “Go ahead. I’ll tell you if I don’t like something.”

Slowly, tentatively, I squeezed the soft flesh under my palm, feeling it give pleasantly. My thumb brushed upward, tracing the curve of her breast in curiosity. Feeling braver, I changed direction and grazed her nipple, feeling it bounce back as I moved away. I went back for more, enjoying the sensation. Stepping closer, I reached my other hand over to the other breast and began working them together. A couple of contented sighs came out of Belle’s mouth as I touched her.

“Hang on,” she said after a few minutes. “Let me shift a bit.”

I stepped back and she scooted forward, then turned and lay on her side, breasts and belly facing toward me. The way gravity pulled on them made it so I could see the heft in each globe. I touched her again, this time gently lifting her breasts to feel their weight. I imagined how much heavier they would feel once her milk came in. Eventually the pressure got to be too much and I took my hands away to undo my zipper.

“I don’t think I’ll last long,” I told her as I pulled my cock out of my pants. “Where should I… um…?”

“It’s okay,” she said. “You can cum anywhere, as long as it’s not on my face. I’ll take care of the cleanup.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice anymore at this point. It no longer mattered that my sister was lying on the bed in front of me. What mattered to my body was that it was a girl, she was naked, and she was inviting me to use her for pleasure. I couldn’t reach over to touch her and stroke my cock at the same time. Belle reached her arm over herself and started massaging her own breast, the one closest to the bed. I could feel something coming up - I was right, it wouldn’t be long at all.

“Cum on me…” she whispered, seemingly lost in her own moment. “Cum on your little pregnant girl…”

I don’t know that I would have called her little, she was certainly my height at least, but logic wasn’t going to win today. The sound of her breathless begging sent me over the edge and I shot out what were probably my most powerful streams of cum to that day. My first actually sailed over her body and landed on her bra, a few more hit her breasts, her arm, and her belly, with the rest dribbling onto the sheets and floor. It felt like the longest orgasm I had ever experienced. I must have stood there a good thirty seconds before I could even process a thought.

“Did you enjoy that?” Belle asked me.

I nodded.

“Good,” she said. “Stay here a moment, I want you to watch me finish myself off really quick, then you can go to bed.” Seemingly ignoring the white liquid all over her, Belle reached down and her hand disappeared into her sweatpants. I watched her arm pump back and forth accompanied by some wet sounds, and her breathing became shallower.

“Oh…” she groaned. “Oh, I need to cum. May I please cum?”

“What? Of course,” I said in surprise.

“No…” she said calmly. “I need you to give me specific permission. I need you to tell me to cum. Tell me I’m a good girl cumming for you. I really like it, and I want you to do it.”

“Oh. Okay. Um…” I cleared my throat. “Yes, you’ve been a good girl. You’re a really good girl. You may cum. Good girls get to cum.”

“Oh, thank you. Thank you thank you thank youuuuuuu!”

The last word got strangled off as I watched her body fold in slightly and convulse. Her breasts jiggled tantalizingly with the orgasm, and if I hadn’t just cummed myself I probably would have right then. As it was, I could feel my dick trying to get hard again with that sight.

“Ahhhh!” she gasped as the last of the orgasm gave out. “God, I needed that. Pregnancy makes me so horny sometimes.”

She opened her eyes and looked at me. “As far as I’m concerned tonight didn’t happen. But at least you can’t say that you haven’t been with a naked girl anymore.”

“Thank you,” I said, zipping up my pants. I turned for the door a third time.

“Hey, Tyler,” Belle said as I made to leave. “You don’t have to get a girl pregnant, there are plenty of single pregnant girls who might just need a quick release. Don’t rush into anything. And if you do knock anyone up, I hope you’ll be a good dad.”

“Thanks, I’ll… I’ll remember that,” I said. I finally left her room and closed the door behind me.

True to her word, that night was the only night that Belle invited me in or did anything overtly sexual. We finished the weekend as unassuming as we started it. If she caught me staring at her figure again, she just gave a quick smile and turned away. That was really the only change. When she left early on Sunday morning, she made a show of blowing us all kisses out her window before her car drove away and out of sight at the corner.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

December came along with its cold dreariness. The past couple of weeks I had been cursing myself for not at least asking to take some pictures of Belle. She probably would have said no, but at least I could have tried. The images in my memory were good, but losing their potency like a dream does when you wake up.

Christmas came and went, our first without Belle at home. After our parents had gone to bed on Christmas night, I opened my email to see a message from her.

>>>

Hey, little bro. I didn’t get my presents for all of you sent out in time. They should arrive Friday while Mom and Dad are at work. Your package has a little something extra in it. The present wrapped in green is the one you can open in front of Mom and Dad if you want. The one wrapped in red needs to stay in your room, be opened only in your room, and never leave your room. If it goes anywhere else, I will track you down and end you. Peace!

<<<

The next day I passed the news along that Belle had sent presents and they were still on their way. On Friday, just as predicted, two boxes showed up at our door, one addressed to our parents and one addressed to me. I brought both inside, placed Mom and Dad’s on the table, and took mine to my room, deciding to just go ahead and open both of the presents she had told me about.

Inside the green wrapping was a railroad book I had been wanting for years. The card said she had found it at an antique mall and took a guess that I didn’t have it yet. I said “thank you” to the card and, trying to control my breathing and anticipation, turned my attention to the package in red. It felt like a book. I carefully tore apart the wrapping and saw a black leather cover with no writing on it, and a note folded on top.

“Dear brother,” I read, “I know you’re interested in photography and I thought this could give you some ideas… among other things. If you’re ever interested in this kind of photography, I can tell you about my experience and what made me comfortable with the whole idea and process. You, Daniel, and the photographer have the only copies of these photos - I hope it doesn’t weird you out that you’re not the only one. All the photos are in a specific order. Don’t go jumping around until you’ve looked through the whole thing; you’ll spoil the experience. I hope you like it. Love, Belle.”

I opened the book to discover it was a standard photo album. Belle’s smiling face greeted me on the first page, throwing her head back as if in laughter, arms cradling her belly as her body faced the side of the frame. This must have been her maternity shoot. The dress she wore accentuated her curves nicely but not scandalously - it was a beautiful and graceful choice. More photos followed showing her sitting on a park bench, lying in the grass with a book, dangling her feet in the water of a creek, and many other poses that showed her absolutely overjoyed about her impending motherhood.

Eventually I started to notice the photos got a little more shadowy, but almost like a natural occurrence. There were still the vibrant colors of the outdoors as the photographer followed her through Berkeley, but I noticed he was paying attention to the lighting and what it would do to the tone as they went on. This was one skilled photographer, the kind I could only hope to be at this point.

I flipped a page to find an abrupt shift to black and white, a close-up of Belle’s face next to a sign reading STUDIO. Neat transition, I thought. The photo opposite on the spread was another close-up of her face, eyes closed and looking down, a finger to her lips as if telling the viewer to be quiet.

And then it got intense. And intimate. All of the photos that followed were either black and white or used a single spot color. A photo of Belle walking through the studio hallway. Belle untying the cord of her dress. Pulling the dress up to expose her belly and the skimpy underwear around her waist. Fifty photos - I counted twice - all illustrated a sequence of Belle growing sultrier and sexier as she and the photographer used their craft to give the viewer a real show. There was a photo of her cradling her breasts and pushing them toward the camera, bending over a bed, propping up on her hands and knees on the bed. They had been careful never to expose her fully - there were some completely nude shots that never showed anything up front between her legs, that being reserved only for her most intimate partner. But the angles and the rest of the book sure made up for that. She even had a few photos done where she appeared to be begging the viewer for something, and some with her wrists bound in front or behind.

I didn’t remember taking my pants down while I looked through the book, but it happened at some point, and I was glad the photos were all in protective plastic sleeves when an errant stream of cum landed on one of the close-ups of her torso. I hurriedly cleaned up when I realized that my parents would be home soon, then headed back to the main part of the house to wait for them.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I eventually decided on the University of Oregon to major in journalism. I also took a lot of photography and art classes, wanting to improve my techniques in both. I even tried video production and found that I liked the process of finding the right angles and then editing a production.

I had another couple of relationships in my freshman year. The first one ended because she dropped out and went back home to Ohio, but the other one really blossomed. Her name was Katie. We had open discussions about what we liked both sexually and non-sexually, and she didn’t think my pregnancy fetish was weird. In fact, she embraced it. Again, cautious idiot that I was, we never had full-on traditional sex, but by the time spring rolled around we were comfortable enough with each other to be naked and explore together. She made herself a convincing fake pregnant belly (convincing, that is, as long as it was under clothes) and used it with me multiple times. She also allowed me to practice photography with her in various states of dress and undress.

Over the summer we grew apart but still stayed friendly on campus, and she continued to be a model for me. She must have put a bug in someone’s ear, because in my sophomore year I got a request from a pregnant senior to do a maternity shoot. I agreed, and soon word got out that I did a good job of capturing the beauty of pregnancy when the mothers felt their least attractive. Of course, there weren’t many pregnant students at the university, but the community started asking me as well, and I was booking sessions whenever I could work them around my schedule.

As sophomore year was ending, one of my clients asked for a boudoir shoot as well, and I agreed to try. After all, I had already been practicing with Katie, and her positive reviews and thoughtful critiques had allowed me to improve. I did the shoot, and the client was ecstatic about the results, so I started more of those sessions as well. I was now working with pregnancy and nudity, sometimes together, in a professional setting. I had thought that might actually hurt my opportunities in the dating pool, but it turned out I needn’t have worried. That’s another story.

My techniques and reputation only improved through the rest of my college days. I went to Berkeley in the summer after my junior year to be at Belle’s wedding. She didn’t ask me to be her photographer, she wanted me as a guest, and I fully respected that decision. But while I was there, she did make another request to me, one that I was nervous about but eager to try. That’s also another story.

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