Medication, Part 1 - Female Version (Patreon)

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Note: This is a female version of Medication.

Summary: All her life, Tris’s mother forced her to take a daily medication, but never really told her why. After Tris goes off to college, she starts skipping doses, and finally realizes just what the medication is for. Monthly expansion. Contains: Female: belly expansion, breast expansion, and more.

-

“Yes mum, I got the care package—” Tris was interrupted when a small belch escaped her throat. “Oh sorry,” she said, abashed. She absently rubbed her stomach, her other hand still cradling the phone to her ear.

“Have you been taking your medication?” said her mother. Her voice was filled with concern.

Tris rolled her eyes. “Yes, mum. It’s just a little indigestion.” She covered the mouthpiece just in time to release another belch. She had been getting a lot of it lately, her stomach for some reason warring with her insides.

“Are you sure…”

Since Tris had been in middle school, her mother had been forcing her to take a daily pill for reasons beyond her comprehension. Mum had always refused to disclose what the pill was for, or where she had even acquired the unlabeled bottles of medication. As Tris grew older, she had come to suspect her mother was a bit paranoid. She seemed jittery, and was always peeking through the scarcely-opened house curtains, as though fearful of the arrival of something. Tris loved her mother, of course, but even she could not deny that the woman was a little unhinged. She still took the pills her mother sent her, if just out of obligation, but she found that she was a lot less scrupulous about it. And being away from her mother’s hawkish scrutiny was a relief.

“I’ve been taking the pills,” said Tris acerbically, leaving no room for argument. “And school is fine. I know you worry, but don’t. I’m actually having a great time.”

After reassuring her mother another twenty minutes, Tris wished her a good night and hung up with a sigh. She leaned back on the couch of her dorm, feeling drowsy even though it was only six in the evening. She supposed her mother could have that sort of effect on people, especially now that she wasn’t so accustomed to her overprotectiveness anymore.

Across the room, Tris’s roommate, Rachel, sent a grin. She twisted her pointer finger in circles above her head and mouthed, Helicopter parent.

Tris wearily smiled back, and nodded, before allowing her eyelids to drop. She didn’t wake up again until the next afternoon, by which point she had already missed two classes.

-

In addition to suffering drowsiness and indigestion, Tris suffered a general feeling of malaise over a few days. She found herself somewhat nauseous, especially in the mornings. Fortunately she never reached the tipping point of actually puking.

During the periods in which Tris wasn’t nauseous, her appetite seemed to surge, and she was helpless but to indulge it. Soon Tris found herself uncharacteristically putting on weight.

Day 11…

She examined herself in her bedroom mirror one afternoon.

She had always been a thin girl, but now she looked somewhat softer in ways she couldn’t pinpoint. Her usually flat chest was softer, and she had acquired some fullness to her abdomen.

She felt bloated more than anything. Like she was packed full even though she hadn’t eaten recently. Her stomach had taken on a rounded appearance which didn’t seem consistent with normal fat gain. Tris decided to increase her workouts on the school track. She did a few laps every evening, though the numbers on her scale continued to steadily rise.

Day 13…

“You’ve gained some weight, Peterson.”

Tris felt her cheeks redden, though she suspected her skin was still flushed from practice. Coach had pulled her aside after all the other players had left, and she didn’t have to wonder why. She had underperformed, missing passes, and failing to make any goals even though she was usually the women’s soccer team’s star player. Today she had been sluggish and winded, barely able to catch her breath following even short sprints about the field. For the past few practices, her teammates had whispered and stared. It had only been a matter of time before coach felt the need to pull her aside.

“What’s going on? This isn’t like you,” Coach continued.

Tris self-consciously looked down, and found her eyes focusing on her belly. She stared at the way her jersey was beginning to stretch over the intrusive mound. She really was getting fat. She bit her lip, embarrassed.

“I’m going to have to bench you.”

“What? No!” Tris looked up.

Coach patted her shoulder. “You’re not leaving me with much of a choice, Tris. You have to get into shape. It’s a shame. I was eying you for captain.”

Tris’s heart clenched.

“Clean up your act, Tris. No more drinking. I’ll work out a customized meal plan for you. You’ll be back on the field in no time.”

Tris sighed and mumbled her gratitude.

-

Tris followed Coach’s meal plan religiously.

Except on the nights when she woke up in anguish, her stomach grumbling to remind her how unsatisfying her meal of steamed broccoli and chicken breast had been.

These nights brought Tris to the 24-hour campus shop in just a baggy T-shirt and leggings that pushed down low and now stretched out over her fuller ass.

Tris would fill her basket with chips and packages of pastries, cup noodles, and whatever other decadent things she seemed to be continuously craving.

Afterwards, Tris would return to her dorm, and eat it all in a frantic episode that she refused to qualify as a binge. Was it her fault that Coach was practically starving her? Or that her stomach now seemed to have a mind of its own? And, oh god, her weight was surging!

Tris’s late-night food ventures occurred more and more frequently, until it was nearly a nightly occurrence, and Tris could hardly fall asleep before she was properly stuffed.

She continued to attend every soccer practice, where she dutifully kept the bench warm for her fellow players. Coach was not impressed by Tris’s ever-rounding physique.

Day 19…

“Tris, we’re going to have to send you in.”

Tris’s jaw dropped. “I haven’t been on the field in weeks.”

Coach looked almost pained as she continued. “I know, but we have no choice. Fernandez is out, and I’m pretty sure Noles’s ankle is broken. I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I had any other choice.”

Tris gulped, stood, and stripped her jacket. She revealed a rounded belly that looked as though it was carrying a child, or had been fostered though decades of beer-guzzling. Strangely enough, Tris hardly drank at all. Yet all her weight seemed to go directly to her stomach, where it sat firm, strange, and uncompromising. She absently trailed her hands over the obvious bump tightly stretching her jersey, still stunned by how rapidly she had acquired it. She really did look pregnant. Which was utterly mad, as she was still a virgin and had never even had a period. Tris looked up at Coach, and blushed to see that she was staring as well.

Coach seemed to snap out of her reverie. She swallowed, and managed a curt nod. “Do us proud,” she said remorsefully. She gave Tris’s shoulder a quick pat.

Tris detached her hands from her belly, despite a strange compulsion to keep them firmly planted there. “Right,” she said, before turning around. She took a deep breath and sprinted off onto the field.

-

They won the game, by which time Tris was ready to pass out. She was slower, less coordinated, and more uncomfortable than she was used to being. Her back twinged horribly. She found that the other players were often too busy staring at her rounded gut to pay much attention to the ball. In consequence, Tris landed a few (uncoordinated) goals, and brought the team one step closer to the title.

Too exhausted to celebrate, she dragged herself directly to her dorm. She felt as though she was getting fatter by the moment. Fortunately, she was too drained to even think about food. Tris collapsed to her bed and fell asleep, vaguely wondering whether she should be more concerned. Maybe she should see a doctor. Maybe she would put it off for another week.

Day 25

Tris was huge. There was no other way to put it. She was pounds heavier on a daily basis, her weight surging out of control.

She had stopped going to soccer practices, so mortified that she hardly even left her dorm anymore. Her friends left her messages. Her professors were sending notices. Tris didn’t know what to do.

She examined herself daily in the mirror, marveling at her continuously changing physique. Her largest T-shirts were skin-tight on her, and revealed several inches of her lower belly. She was wearing a pair of shorts that were nearly bursting at her ass and jammed low on her hips by the abrupt protuberance of her abdomen.

Tris pulled her shirt up. Her stomach looked like a ball, nowhere in the realm, of normal, not even close to resembling weight gain anymore. She looked as though she was pregnant, her belly button bulging out the way Professor Jones' had when she was nearly at term with her daughter. And her mound was littered with strange squirming, tickling, and tapping sensations, that sometimes distorted her skin, and scared the living hell out of her.

Tris resigned herself to seeing a doctor, she just had to—to work out what she would say. She would give it another few days—god what if this was some sort of tumor!?—whatever it was, another few days wouldn’t harm her.

Tris glided her fingers over her breasts, and shuddered. They had gotten yet fuller. Her nipples were swollen and tender, and protruding evidently in her shirt. Tris slid her fingers back down from her chest to absently stroke her stomach.