Neighbors, Part 4 (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

-

Emily was slumped in her hospital bed, her whole body aching. She felt dazed, weary, and strangely disconnected. A large, gurgling infant was clutched in her arms.

She was slowly starting to make sense of it all. At first, she had thought that she was just cursed by the statue, but Emily had come to realize that it was more than that.

She and Zoe were connected somehow. Crazy as it seemed, this baby wasn’t Emily’s. It couldn’t be Emily’s. In fact, it didn’t even look like her.

“So you finally popped it out,” someone drawled as the door opened. Emily looked up to see that Zoe had entered the hospital room.

“Three days of labor,” said Emily bitterly, her resentment towards the other woman only swelling. “I’m surprised you would come to visit me,” she added.

Zoe made a noncommittal noise in her throat. “You did squirt all over my living room floor.”

Emily grimaced at the crass account of her water breaking.

“Figure’d I’d come see the little monster.” Zoe’s eyes landed on the baby. “Wait, that thing’s huge. Tell me you didn’t give birth naturally?”

Emily smiled angrily. “All seventeen pounds.”

“Seventee—christ, Pearson. What did you fuck, a mountain troll?” Zoe continued to scrutinize the baby, a perplexed look on her face.

“Actually.” Emily swallowed. “It’s yours.”

“Ha ha. That’s a good one. I’m in hysterics,” said Zoe flatly as she settled herself in the chair at Emily’s bedside. Zoe grimaced slightly and shifted her shoulders. Emily couldn’t help noticing how full Zoe’s chest was—her breasts looked even bigger than they had when Emily had last seen her. They were stretching out the tank top Zoe was wearing, looking round and perky even though it appeared that Zoe was not wearing a bra. Her nipples were surprising large, sticking out in the tight material. Zoe grimaced and shifted again. Not one for modesty, she reached up and cupped one of the mounds, massaging slightly with her hands. “My tits are killing me.”

Emily tore her gaze away. “Zoe, I’m serious. I really do think this is your baby.”

Zoe stopped in her fidgeting to give Emily her full attention. “You’re even crazier than I thought you were,” she mused aloud.

“I—I know how it sounds,” said Emily hurriedly. “But I haven’t had sex in ages. Edward and I actually were waiting. Then I turn up pregnant out of nowhere. And the statue—I think we’re connected somehow.”

Zoe opened her mouth, but her jaw just hung. It seemed that, for once, she had run out of witty insults. She was distinctly uncomfortable, which was certainly a new look on the woman.

And then Zoe’s gaze shifted and she heaved a long sigh. “So they gave you the good stuff.” She nodded to the morphine drip connected to Zoe’s IV. “For a second there I thought both of us were sober. Do you mind…?” And without waiting for a response, Zoe hijacked the drip and inserted it into her arm with the expertise of an addict. She sighed and slumped back, a mellow smile spreading across her face.

“Zoe!” said Emily in abject frustration.

“Shhhh, you’ll wake your enormous baby,” Zoe droned back.

Emily tried, several more times, to explain the dilemma they were in, but by then, Zoe was all but listening, and all but lucid at that.

-

Zoe’s tits were getting huge. She could feel the way they bobbed on her chest, the way people were really beginning to notice them. They were hot and tingly, leaving her sweaty, even though she ordinarily was on the cold side. But now she was hot all the time, sweating through her tops, and her nipples fucking ached like hell.

She had given up on bras. She couldn’t afford the cost to keep going up in sizes. Going about braless with her newer, fuller chest, she was silently astounded by how perky they were. Full and round, not sagging like tits usually started to once they hit D-cups.

And they were definitely beyond that.

When her nipples weren’t aching, they were leaving her shuddering, her loins twinging at the sensation of the nubs lightly rubbing on the fabric of her tops.

It was all new and strange, and she had half a mind to see a physician, but she had literally just seen one a few weeks ago, and those copays were pricey.

Her breasts bobbed when she walked around. They felt weirdly full, almost sort of tight somehow, like they were bloated, a pressure pressing against her tender flesh, pressing the mounds outwards, as they steadily grew larger.

That was the worst thing about in. The chronic sensation of hot pressure. She tried her best to ignore it, to will it away, but it was just getting worse. Ridiculously enough, one evening, she found herself clutching a bag of frozen peas to her flushed, sweaty jugs.

She felt oddly self-conscious. She was still able to pull without issue, but found herself oftentimes stiffening when her lovers’ attention shifted to the fun-bags, and she didn’t know how to react to the alternating pleasure and pain, but her hips twitched on their own.

That night, it was Ted.

“You gained weight,” he said with an uncertain smile. She could tell that he had been trying to figure out how to mention it since he laid wide eyes on her in the threshold, then the full hour that they had been sprawled on the couch together drinking cheap wine and watching adult cartoons.

“I hadn’t noticed,” Zoe deadpanned. “Problem?” she challenged.

“No problem,” Ted said with a crooked smile. “It’s just very—new. Something I’ll have to adjust to.”

His eyes trailed over her sprawled form with meticulous scrutiny. Zoe knew that her ass was fuller and rounder. What had been nearly nonexistent before had grown into two full, plump globes behind her, an ass that most other women had to pay for, round, perk, and sticking out. Her hips had congruently gotten wider and softer.

Ted sidled closer to her, spreading his thighs. Zoe climbed up, straddling him. His hands explored, running up and down her fuller body. She tried not to react when he cupped her breasts. “God, what have you been eating?” he muttered in combined amusement and amazement. His thumbs brushed up and down her nipples, causing them to distend, pushing out even more.

Zoe’s breathing shuddered. “Shut up, Ted,” she managed, as his hands dipped under her shirt, now cradling the full, hot mounds that overfilled his hands. She wrapped her legs around him and began to struggle with his belt.

-

An hour later, they were a panting, sweating, tangle of limbs. Zoe was plastered against Ted’s chest, his hands resting low on her hips.

“God Zoe, that was insane,” he said breathlessly.

Zoe opened her mouth to respond when she felt a sudden tension in her chest. She pulled away from Ted, wincing.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” said Zoe, raising her hand to the side of her right breast and stopping just short of touching it. “Sometimes they just—nnghhh,” she groaned, her nipples stinging, but also tingling as pressure surged, peaking in a sharp and relieving way.

Then there was moisture. Panting quietly, Zoe stared down at her breast, as she watched droplets swell and drip free. A warm, white fluid that was unmistakably milk.

Ted was staring, his jaw hanging. He didn’t seem to be breathing, and Zoe could relate to his state of astonishment.

“What…the fuck,” she hissed.

-

Emily still couldn’t manage to lactate. Though she didn’t like it, she was forced to give the baby formula. Emily’s doctor said that she was underweight, and clearly she wasn’t consuming enough calories.

In contrast, Emily thought she was eating more than enough. She even upped her intake, pigging out on fried foods, starches, lardy meats, sugary pastries, and every other fattening, unhealthy foods she typically considered anathema. Sometimes she ate so much she was disgusted with herself. Still, she couldn’t seem to put on a pound. If anything, she was still losing weight.

Weirdly, Zoe was gaining weight. Every time Emily saw Zoe grabbing her mail, picking up the paper, or getting into her car, the sullen woman seemed even more voluptuous, her hips fuller, ass plumper, and breasts getting even more swollen round. And Emily swore she could spot a patch of wetness on Zoe’s chest at least on one occasion. Not for the first time, Emily wondered if there was any truth to Zoe’s claim—Emily was going insane.

But if Emily wasn’t then something supernatural was definitely transpiring between them. The two were connected. Zoe was experiencing what Emily should have been, and vice versa.

To test this theory, Emily eyed a mostly-empty milk gallon in the fridge that afternoon. The milk was a day and a half past its expiration date, and Emily knew that Zoe was both lactose intolerant and extremely sensitive to expired foods.

Emily hesitated, but uncapped the bottle, and forced down the vaguely sour fluid. She wrinkled her nose once she was finished, thinking, I can’t believe I just did that.

But it was done. Emily waited. She frequently peeked out her kitchen window, but Zoe’s curtains were closed, and there was no activity detectable beyond them.

The baby woke from his nap and began to cry. Emily hurried over, lifting and rocking him. He began to quiet down. He really was well-behaved for a newborn. Then Emily had a thought, and put a cap on his head against the cool breeze. She slipped on some flip flops and walked out of her house, heading straight for Zoe’s door. She knocked with her free hand.

It was at least two-minutes before a greenish-looking Zoe answered. She looked even bigger than she had at a distance, ass and tits huge, stretching out the T-shirt and leggings she was wearing.

“What!?” Zoe snapped, and Emily realized that she had spent several seconds staring.

Emily pulled herself out of her reverie. “I wanted you to see the baby,” she said brightly. “His name is Johnson.”

Zoe gave her a queer look. “You named your baby Johnso—?” Zoe paused and grimaced, covering her mouth, her stomach gurgling audibly. But then she managed to go on, “I saw the thing, Pearson. Or were you too high to remember?”

Emily forced a smile. “Is this a bad time, Zoe?”

“Don’t call me—” Zoe’s stomach gurgled again. “Eugh, well, it’s nice to see Johnson again. You gave the kid an intern name, Em. He’ll be forever destined for corporate mediocrity. Now will you get off my porch?”

“Are you okay? You don’t look too good...”

Zoe looked as though she intended to make another snarky remark, but her eyes widened, and she hurried off. Emily could hear the sounds of her puking coming from somewhere inside.

It really was true.

Emily found herself inching her way inside, the baby clutched to her chest. She found herself again gravitating towards Zoe’s broken half of the statuette. She knew she needed to properly join the pieces, though she wasn’t sure what the effects would be.

“There you go, snooping around again.”

Emily looked up to see that Zoe was back, now leaning against the living room doorframe on her very-round hip.

“I swear, it’s like you’re obsessed with me.”

“I drank bad milk, and you’re the one who’s sick,” Emily blurted.

There was a low whining noise. It took Emily a moment to realize it was coming from Zoe’s gut. Zoe groaned and rubbed her stomach with her hands.

“What the hell are you rambling about this time?” Zoe said. She hissed out and arched slightly.

Emily slowly came to realize the latest source of Zoe’s discomfort. Patches of moisture were blooming across the chest of the stretched T-shirt Zoe was wearing.

“You’re lactating,” Emily remarked. She could see Zoe’s nipples pushing out against the material, large and puffy.

Zoe seemed to remember her audience. She folded her arms across her chest, wincing as she did. “Get out.”

“Zoe, you have to listen to me!”

But Zoe’s patience had dissolved. She was now physically pushing Emily towards the door. “You’re not pregnant anymore,” she reasoned as she forced Zoe out.

“I still have a baby. Your baby!”

But soon Emily and Johnson were back on the front porch. An ill-looking Zoe slammed the door shut in their faces.