Medication, Part 10 - 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.

Previous Chapter

-

When Tris burst into the cabin, she was in so much pain she could hardly even speak. She was bigger than she had ever been, her belly flushed and throbbing. The tension was so bad, she felt like she was going to burst.

There were a few people present, standing about, some of their faces familiar, some of them not, but Tris could hardly even register them. She caught a glimpse of their shock, but then she was assaulted by a new explosion of pain that made her partly keel down, the babies against her wailing.

“What the—holy hell,” said Martha in astonishment. Hers was one of the familiar faces.

“Take them,” Tris wheezed out. She was too exhausted to offer up the babies. Her body was barely holding her up on all fours, but somehow, she had to give birth because she was certain the labor would kill her if she put it off a moment longer. “Ohhhhh…” She pushed, and felt something crown, tears streaming down her face. She no longer cared about keeping her secret, she just wanted to get through this. “Quick,” she rasped.

Thankfully, Derek and James came forward, and removed the wailing infants strapped to Tris’s back and chest. She no longer had to worry about staying upright, and could have collapsed right then, were it not for the mass presently exiting her, pushing out at her groin. Panicked, she struggled with her rope belt.

“Miss Smith, where did you get these children?” Martha asked, watching as James tried to sooth the two in his arms.

“Oh god,” Tris croaked, hardly hearing her. The baby that she was birthing was unable to proceed farther. She fumbled to untie the belt, to push it down. No one moved forward to help, they just stared on speechlessly.

“She’s developed some sort of mass,” Derek said. “She’s in pain. We need to tranquilize her until we can—”

“N-no,” Tris stammered. That was the last thing she needed. It was a strain to talk, to advocate for herself, but she couldn’t let them do anything to hurt her and her unborn babies. She gave a pained sob, hands shaking on her rope belt. “H-help me t-t-t—” But a powerful contraction nearly knocked her down, body trembling and straining to eject the crowned baby. When she finally managed to untie the rope, she gave a long moan and hunched low on her elbows, belly pressing the floor.

She felt a terrible, wrenching pain as the head popped fully out, so abruptly that her insides twisted, and she was sure that something was severely damaged inside of her. She muffled a wail in her arm, then just tried to catch her breath.

“Christ!” someone shouted.

Tris just tried to bare the pain and catch her breath. “Hahhhh…hahhhh…” she panted, flushed, dizzy. She lifted her head slightly, making out the matching looks of shock on her spectators’ faces. “C-catch,” she managed, reaching feebly, as another contraction caused her belly to compact on itself, forcing the baby along.

Martha snapped out of her reverie just in time to catch the baby before it could fall to the ground.

Tris dropped to her side, boneless, even as more contractions tore through her body.

“Tris, what the…Jesus,” said James.

Tris just laid there, breathing, and aware of the second twin that was coming, but not too soon, thankfully. She grunted and fidgeted somewhat, cupping her throbbing stomach. “I…” she finally managed. “…pregnant. I’m pregnant.”

It was the simplest explanation she could think of, excluding the whole “family curse” matter for later or never.

“P-please…help me,” Tris whispered as she cradled her still-round belly. “T-twins.”

The surrounding group of people seemed absolutely stunned. But slowly, one by one, they gathered their composure.

“Derek, she’s too weak to give birth again,” said Martha. “She may need surgery.”

“That isn’t an option,” the medic responded. “The nearest hospital is a three-hour flight, and her contractions are—”

“Let’s get her into a cot—”

“Turner, get some water!”

Tris was peeled off the floor and helped to a cot in a spare room. She was too tired to be humiliated as she was stripped and examined. Her swollen belly was contracting more powerfully now, her overdue unborn determined to join its sibling in the outside world.

It wasn’t long before the contractions were on top of each other, and Tris felt the need to start pushing again. Derek and Martha supported her in an awkwardly contorted position with her knees drawn high, when she just wanted them to go away, to stop ogling her like the anomaly she was.

Derek gave her a shot. A mild pain medication. Anything stronger might be bad in your state, he explained. It helped, but was still a little disorientating. Tris appreciated it, because this baby was giving her a hard time of it. She pushed and pushed for what had to be hours, until she was giving pained hums, or strangled cries when they somehow escaped her tightly pressed mouth. She panted and twisted, body flushed and hot. Soon her vision was blurring, and at least once she passed out, but she was brought back into vicious consciousness by the pain of yet another contraction, Derek urging her to keep going with light pats to her face.

Finally, the pain peaked to impossible levels, and there was a squalling cry, and Tris was crying too. She felt utterly wrecked.

Derek raised a healthy-sized baby. Fuck, it was big. The medic just looked down at the infant in amazement. “It’s a—”

But by then, Tris had already passed out.

-

Recovery was faster this time around.

She had the aid of trained medics, like Derek and James, to give her an IV line to make sure she stayed hydrated, and to give her medication for pain, nausea, dizziness, and so on. They ensured that she ate regularly and frequently, as well as kept her vitals within the normal range. All of these measures had Tris back on her (weary) feet in only two days.

She had five newborn children now, and they were constantly wailing, but Tris was still too weak to do much other than look at them. James was mainly keeping an eye on them, and they were kept separate from Tris for the most part. Tris hated herself for feeling grateful in that regard.

She belatedly noticed that she was set up in a supply closet, but it was nice to have a space of her own. It had the sterile smell of having been recently scrubbed of any stray dust or grime. The medics checked on her constantly, often adjusting the medication and fluids in her IV line. Apparently there were still some people sick with the virus, so they wanted to keep Tris and the babies as far from the medical room as possible.

Tris tried to catch up on as much rest as she could. When she wasn’t dozing, she leafed through a few of the botany books Martha had given her to pass the time. That afternoon, when she was conscious but only just, the door to her makeshift bedroom creaked open, and Derek came in to take a seat at Tris’s bedside.

Tris braced herself for the questioning. She had known it was coming.

Derek did not disappoint: “Tris…we’re trying to figure out what happened to you these past couple of weeks,” he said. “James says your group was attacked by the indigenous tribe in the forest. Afterwards, everyone was separated. But you were out there for over two months. And heavily pregnant, apparently. How on earth did you survive?”

Tris wanted to tell the truth, to testify about the warm welcome the isolated tribe had given her. But she knew it would only lead to more questions, and possibly land her in hot water for violating international law and entering the indigenous territory.

“I found an abandoned old research station. Don’t ask me where it was—I can’t remember. But there was a stream, and some canned food stuff. I was in and out of consciousness for a while, and…yeah,” she mumbled.

“Did you get sick?” said Derek.

“I’m not sure,” Tris lied. She knew that getting follow-up treatment would only be to her benefit, but she just wanted to go home before things became even more of a mess than they already were. The last thing she needed was to be quarantined because of suspected residual illness.

Derek nodded absently, his eyes thoughtfully drifting along Tris’s torso. “God Peterson, you should have told us,” he said, eyes darting back up. “Why the hell would you come out here pregnant?”

“I didn’t realize.”

Derek gave her a dubious look. “But you would have already been in your—right, okay.” He stopped himself from arguing, lightly shaking his head.

There was an awkward silence, Tris wanting to sink down and be swallowed by the cot. Instead, she managed, “What happened to the others?”

Derek sighed. “Most made it back fine. James is still pretty shaken. Some got back sooner than others.” He gave Tris a pointed look. “But Tim—he’s still missing. He was almost declared dead. But your arrival is giving us new hope. The local authorities have agreed to send out a new search party.”

“Right,” said Tris grimly. Tim was a classmate of hers. Tris couldn’t help thinking that she could easily be in Tim’s shoes, still missing in the forest, unlikely to ever be found.

“There’s concern that the indigenous tribe captured him, for whatever reason. They’re the ones who shot darts at you, right?”

“Yeah,” said Tris quietly.

“I knew that route was risky. It may have been seen as trespassing.”

“Yeah.” Tris leaned back on her pillows and stared at the ceiling. She allowed her eyelids to lower and hoped that Derek would leave her be to process it all.

“But I’m glad you’re doing well,” Derek continued, clearly not getting the hint. “The babies are doing good too. All…five of them. We don’t have much milk powder left, obviously. We hadn’t anticipated a particular need for milk.”

Tris opened her eyes.

“I noticed that you—well, it could help if you…” His eyes darted to Tris’s chest.

“Right, okay,” she said.

“You may have to do two at a time. If you need help—”

“It’s fine,” said Tris, embarrassed. “You can bring one, I mean—two of them in.” It was probably time she properly bonded with the newborns anyway.

“Five is a lot to feed,” Derek went on, shifting easily back into his role as a medic. “You’re going to have to stay hydrated, and increase your calorie intake. We’ll set you up on 3,000 calories a day, though it might not be…”

Tris nodded politely, but internally, just zoned her out. She still couldn’t believe that she had been fit, athletic, and childless not too long ago. A happily carless, terribly irresponsibly young woman, and not an overwhelmed mother of—crap—seven.

Derek finished, and the room lapsed back into silence. Tris hoped this was the end of the informal meeting, when Derek said:

“Something just doesn’t add up, Tris. If you were pregnant with twins, then where did the other three babies come from?”

Tris’s throat tightened. She had been hoping that this massive hole in her story would be blithely ignored and forgotten.

She couldn’t deny that the other three babies were hers. That would put them at risk of being taken away. Besides that, it hardly made sense. They all looked alike, and even had some of her features.

But they were all extremely close in age, all having been born in the past two months. Tris wasn’t sure if she could convince Derek that she had been, in fact, pregnant with quints and was halfway through labor when she arrived to the cabin. Probably not, as the age difference was fairly obvious, even if that difference was only a month or two. The two newest infants had the newborn flush and feebleness, whereas the older three had a level of familiarity with her that attested to her already having bonded with them. And they were bigger.

Not to mention that a sudden new story would severely contradict the old one.

Tris saw her secret unravelling. She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. She just stared off, a little dazed with the knowledge that her whole world was crumpling around her. Everyone would figure out what she was.

“We did a few exams after the birth,” said Derek. “You might not remember them all. You were pretty out of it. To stop the bleeding, improve your vitals, make sure everything was okay. We did a full work up. Tris…I know that you’re pregnant again, though I don’t know quite—how. You—you’ve been pregnant more than once out here. Somehow you’re having rapid—”

“Can we keep this quiet?” Tris cut him off.

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