Trinkets (Patreon)
Content
Note: This is a story-prompt for Absolus.
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Brent wandered around the silly little shop.
It was owned by an eccentric old woman with musty clothes, thick, owlish glasses, and the most amorphous hat Bret had ever seen.
When the antique shop had first opened a year ago, people had visited it intrigued, and subsequently, amused with all the absurd paraphernalia crowding the shelves. But as the months went by, people stopped seeing the items as “gag gifts.” Rumors started to circulate, many people swearing that the shop owner was a witch. They claimed that the trinkets she sold had varying magical properties.
Brent wasn’t buying it. After several months, he was frankly sick of the rumors and intended to disprove them once and for all.
This should do, Brent thought as he came across an intricate glass bottle filled with yellow fluid. Your wish will come true, the label promised. Rolling his eyes, Brent took it to the register. Thirty bucks wasted, but at least he could finally make fools of all his gullible friends.
Brent chugged the fluid as soon as he got home. It tasted like molasses and burnt meat and caused a belch to erupt from his throat. He grimaced then wished for the most ludicrous thing he could think of. Fully aware that it was biologically impossible, he blurted, “I wish I was pregnant!” to his empty apartment before descending into snickers.
Unsurprisingly…nothing happened!
A week went by and Brent was fully confident that he had proven the “witch’s shop” to be the sham that it was.
One evening as he dragged himself home from work, Brent found that he was incredibly fatigued. He had barely made it to his bed before he dropped back against his pillows, eyelids sinking. He fell asleep still dressed in his work clothes and oblivious of what had caused the sudden bout of exhaustion.
As Brent slept, he had no idea that his body was changing. His belly began to rapidly grow, steadily shifting forward, advancing from his body, as it grew bigger, rounder, and also heavier. His children were growing at an accelerated rate, racing to full development inside of him. His shirt tightened, his waistband forced down as his abdomen continued to expand. Soon Brent’s belly was bulging out from his shirt, the hem of which was progressively sliding upwards, more and more of his bare abdomen coming exposed as it grew, until Brent was beyond what at-term looked for a normal pregnancy. But Brent was carrying multiples. His belly proceeded, the size of a basketball, and still growing.
Brent squirmed slightly, releasing a grunt as his face twisted. His hands unconsciously moved up to cup the sides of the huge mound which had expanded to be wider than the rest of him.
Brent groaned and fidgeted more, still unconscious. His breathing thinned as his belly compressed against his lungs and organs. He unconsciously shifted to alleviate the discomfort, his body turning to the side until his belly plopped against the mattress. Brent’s breathing steadily evened out again.
Peacefully unaware of his impending parenthood, Brent slept on.
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Brent awoke gradually.
He felt really tired, and really heavy.
The bright sunlight burned his narrowed eyes, telling him that he had slept late for some reason. Everything felt…weird. His body was bloated, uncomfortable, and tight. Additionally, he felt as though he had a medicine ball pressing under his ribs. “‘the fuck,” Brent mumbled groggily, waiting for his vision to clear up and his eyes to stop stinging.
And when they did, Brent’s dilemma had only exacerbated.
“What the fuck?” he repeated, trying to wrench away from The Bulge, but just ended up yelping and whining, then clutching and hugging it to him as he spewed several more obscenities.
It was warm. Pulsing, full, and it was—him. His body. His stomach. This thing was part of him, and there was—fuck—movement. Brent tore his hand away from the nudges and kicks, completely horrified. He managed to heave himself upright, groaning as he did.
“I’m—pregnant!?” he cried hoarsely, looking down as the obscenely large mound perched against his lap. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening! And yet there was no escaping the thing. It was his own damn body.
Hesitantly, he hands returned to the tight mass. He couldn’t believe how big it was. “Mmmgghhh…” A surge of tension left him arching and whimpering. He felt a faint pop deep in his gut, then suddenly the back of his pants were soaked in fluid.
“No…” Brent moaned in protest as another contraction racked his body causing him to tense up and whine. He could feel his insides shifting, pressure sinking, pelvis tightening as something proceeded towards his rear. They were trying to—they were ready to born. But it was too soon. He couldn’t just—no, this just wasn’t right! “Nrrrgggghhhh!” he groaned as pressure surged to his ass.
Brent realized that he should have never doubted the rumor.