Neighbors, Part 3 (Patreon)

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Summary: Two neighbors are cursed. Whenever Zoe has unprotected sex, Emily becomes pregnant with the resultant offspring, and goes through a 1-month pregnancy, after which she gives birth. Both women are also now immune to sexually transmitted disease. Zoe finds it liberating that she can have sex without personal consequence, and cares little about the effects it has on her neighbor. Emily, meanwhile, is overwhelmed by the continuous pregnancies, and the increasing number of babies she is now apparently responsible for. However Emily has yet to explore the impact the curse has on Zoe. Contains: Female: pregnancy, belly expansion, breast expansion, butt expansion, weight gain, stuffing, and possibly more.

Previous Chapter

-

Ever since she had been given a clean bill of health by her gynecologist, Zoe suspected she was getting even more careless about using protection. She brought a new guy home almost nightly, and oftentimes both were too tipsy to remember a condom. Zoe was beginning to think she was sterile, but then, her doctor had claimed she was in “perfect reproductive health.” What difference did it make anyway? She was lucky. She was unstoppable.

And she was putting on weight.

Zoe started to notice that her bras were fitting her more snugly than before, and so were her panties, the edges cutting into her hips and ass. She was getting softer, but not in an obvious way. It had taken her a while to notice that she was becoming subtly more voluptuous, her thighs, hips, breasts, and ass filling out. She wasn’t getting fat, per se, but she was heavier in a way that still displeased her. She had always been small and skinny, and now had to get used to her new, fuller body. It was odd, because she was usually underweight. She didn’t enjoy eating, and couldn’t say that she consumed much more than weed and alcohol throughout most days.

But then, it was probably all the drinking.

That was really the only explanation. Maybe she was getting older, her metabolism not working as well as it had in her earlier twenties.

Zoe decided to keep an eye on the issue, though she admittedly did not attempt to change her diet (or lack thereof). She continued drink in her attempts at sedation. And the weight continued to steadily pile on.

She got fuller and softer, ass stretching out her leggings, and hips shoving down her waistbands as they strained to cling on. Her thighs began to rub together. Her face got somewhat rounder, which notably disrupted her severe appearance, softening her sharp cheeks and jawline, making her look a little too approachable for her liking.

More inconveniently than anything else, her previously-flat chest was blowing up. Her small A-cups had rapidly swollen to Cs, and were only growing, forcing her into the expensive chore of shopping for new bras, only to realize that she was continuing to rapidly change despite her efforts to reign it in.

She cut back significantly on her drinking, but even after that, her breast-flesh began to bulge over the cups of her newest bras. Now only were the mounds larger, but they were rounder, fuller, and more sensitive. There was an uncomfortable tenderness that made her squirm at times. And on the days that she actually had to go in to the office, she felt uncharacteristically self-conscious. She felt as though she was losing control of herself. That she was becoming something different entirely.

But then, it was only a little weight gain. Maybe she was being overdramatic about things.

After all, it could have been worse.

Zoe found strange comfort in gazing out her kitchen window and watching Emily heave herself out of her car one afternoon. She watched the other woman waddle towards her house, a large, grease-stained brown paper bag clutched under one of Emily’s arms. Not even waiting to get inside, Emily was impatiently stuffing her face with handfuls of french-fries all while panting and struggling, looking like she could just collapse beneath her swollen mass.

“Completely disgusting,” Zoe mused aloud, unable to stop a smile from curling her lips.

-

Emily had tried everything she could do induce labor. She attempted exercises—those she could handle, such a walking, and some awkward yoga poses that made her feel so tightly stretched at her bulging abdomen, she feared that she might rupture something. She had tried nipple stimulation, which was an awkward process, but she was supposed to be doing it anyway, her legs quivering beneath her. Still, she had no contractions, not even the inconvenient fake ones that pregnant women complained about in TV shows. She had eaten spicy foods until she was in tears, and had drank enough herbal, labor-inducing teas to make her nauseous.

Emily was certain she had tried everything short of sex. She found herself at a new high of frustration and at one point, on the verge of calling Edward, but fortunately, managed to stop herself. Edward was upset as it was by the whole situation. She couldn’t bring herself to use him like that.

So now Emily was left slumped back in her large living room armchair, limbs akimbo, as she rubbed her hands against the throbbing mass of her belly. She couldn’t seem to stop rubbing it. It was huge, and dominated her attention as much as it did her body. She felt as though she could hardly support it anymore. Not that she had been supporting it particularly well from the start.

Emily lifted the bag of ice from the end table beside her and applied it to her belly, her chest, her face. She was just so overheated. She popped a few ice chips into her mouth and moaned quietly as she sucked on them. She couldn’t understand her poor luck. She couldn’t believe the state she was in.

She looked heavily overdue. She looked as though she was carrying twins, or more. So far Emily had been too humiliated to reach out to friends or family members for help, but it was completely exhausting just to get up and put together a simplistic meal, or answer her door. She didn’t know how much longer she could last on her own. And now she had this issue of not going into labor to worry about, on top of everything else.

After another hour of resting in the chair, Emily heaved herself up, belly shuddering as she forced her way to her feet. She wadded about, belly swinging, hips straining, and back arching as she balanced the great mass before her. She just needed this thing to drop. In only moments, she was huffing, sweating, and gasping for breath. “Why can’t I do this?” she groaned aloud, continuing to kneed her swollen flesh with the heels of her hands.

This whole thing had been bizarre from the start. None of her specialists had provided any logical physical explanation. It was almost like her rapid pregnancy was the cause of supernatural influences.

Emily didn’t know why, but her gaze shifted to the cabinet to the left side of the living room. Grunting quietly, she held her back and waddled over. Lately the cabinet distracted her at times, her attention absently drifting to it. Without really thinking of why, Emily reached down and opened the drawer.

The broken statuette sat within, the woman’s face blank and staring as it lay askew beneath a few pieces of unopened mail.

Emily reached down and lifted it, cradling the broken artifact carefully in her hands.

She had thought about tossing it. It was unpleasant to have damaged things in her house. But there was the possibility that it was important or valuable, so Emily had compromised by relegating it to her china cabinet drawer to be hidden with other junk.

Now as she scrutinized it, Emily couldn’t help thinking that it looked different than it had when she had first put it away. The bronze felt strangely warm, and it almost seemed to be emanating a glow.

I have to put it back together.

The stray thought darted through Emily’s mind. But it wasn’t just a thought, it was a need. The pieces belonged together. They could be the answer to everything.

Cradling the broken figure against her chest with one hand, Emily held her back with the other, and began to wobble towards her front door.

Huffing and puffing, she pushed her way through it, before hauling herself across her lawn to the neighboring property. Before she knew it, she was banging on Zoe’s door.

The door swung open, and a long-haired blonde man answered. He was fit and wearing only a towel draped low on his hips. His goofy grin fell at seeing Emily, his eyes widening as they shot down to her massive stomach. “Uh, hi mam,” he said.

Emily winced. She had never been called “mam,” in her life, and it hurt. “Where’s Zoe?” she spat, face flushed and belly heaving with her breathlessness.

The man looked momentarily puzzled, before something registered. “Oh, righ—”

“What do you want?” said Zoe, shoving him slightly to face Emily in the door. She gave Emily a once-over and snorted.

Only at that moment did Emily remember that she was dressed in nothing but a cotton nightgown that hugged her form and rested high on her thighs, feet jammed into a pair of flip-flops.

“You’re huge,” Zoe remarked rudely.

But Zoe seemed to have put on weight herself. She was wearing a bandeau top and boxers, and Emily couldn’t help staring at how—sexual—Zoe had become when she was not wearing her flowing black jackets and boyish button-downs. Zoe’s ordinarily wiry, unfeminine body had changed significantly, round breasts now sticking out against her top, nipples bulging evidently. The boxers would have slipped low on her hips in the past, but now clung tightly to the rounded flesh, hugging into Zoe’s ass, even riding up the plump skin. Zoe had put on weight, and a good amount of it. She was sort of voluptuous all the sudden. It was completely and utterly unfair.

Emily’s eyes snapped back up as Zoe cleared her throat.

“Is there a reason you’re standing on my porch, all dazed and gigantic?” Zoe said. She tilted her head, giving Emily a quizzical look. “Should you…even be on your feet? Not that I care. But fuck, how many babies do you have in there?”

Emily reddened. She absently squeezed the broken figurine in her hand. “Zoe, you—you left your bins out again,” she heard herself whining. “Last time they ticketed me.” This was followed by some panting.

“Thanks mom,” Zoe responded with sarcasm. “But shouldn’t you be pushing out several infants right now. God, you’re huge.”

Emily was nearly hyperventilating. She felt herself growing hotter.

“I know they’re not Edwards,” Zoe arbitrary added, a sweet little aside. “I hope that dick was worth it.”

Zoe’s one-night-stand was standing to the side looking both scandalized and amused. He alternated his gaze between each woman, his mouth open wide.

Emily gave a miserable groan. “Can I just—I need to see your side of the artifact,” she said as she cupped the underside of her swollen mound.

Zoe furrowed her eyebrows. “My what? You mean the stupid statue thing? You’re still griping about that? Are you nuts?”

Emily restrained a whimper, rubbing her hands on the sides of her huge mound. It felt as though it was pulsating by then.

“I think you’re clinically insane,” Zoe ranted. “You have clear and blatant problems,” Zoe gave a pointed look to Emily’s huge abdomen. “But you’re still buzzing around, bitching about recycling bins, parking spots, and stupid little figurines.”

“You still have it, don’t you?” gasped Emily, fearing that Zoe had thrown it away.

“You need professional help,” Zoe said, “I don’t know if you’re a perfectionist, anally retentive, or just pathologically annoying. But you need to see someone.”

That was when Emily saw it. Something bright, beyond Zoe’s shoulder. It was perched sideways on a coffee table, in apparent use as a paperweight. It was Zoe’s half—no, Emily’s half—of the figurine. Emily knew that if she had it, it would resolve something. It would be Emily’s again, and something within her would be whole!

Emily determinedly started forward. She had intended to slip past Emily and the gaping blonde dude, but ended up unintentionally shoving them with her belly. The blonde guy was so startled, he flopped to the floor. Zoe stumbled back, looking completely appalled.

Emily continued to force herself forward, jerking her arm free as Zoe attempted to grab at it.

“What are you doing!?” Zoe cried. “Get out of my house!”

But Emily just needed to statuette back. She was already so close. She forced one leg in front of the other, and finally reached down and grasped it in her free hand.

“You really are insane!?” Zoe shrieked.

Arms quavering, Emily brought the two broken pieces together.

There was a flash of bright white light that left Emily momentarily blinded. She saw the most bizarre vision, one of Zoe, only she was round with child, flushed, glowing.

The vision faded, and Emily’s insides twisted. She was suddenly back inside Zoe’s living room, holding onto the wall for balance as her belly gave a painful shudder.

“Oh god,” she groaned, as her whole gut shifted downwards. There was a splash of liquid between her thighs. She was going into labor.

Zoe screamed.