Abstinence, Part 3 (Patreon)

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Summary: Cara, a 20-year-old college student, had the wildest night of her life. Unbeknownst to her, she has been impregnated by an alien species. The alien grows and feeds off of arousal, so any time she get aroused, the alien grows. The alien has a 12-month gestation period and Cara must try her best to abstain from any sexual activities or anything that arouses her. The amount of arousal will affect size of the alien offspring, but it will still take 12-months until birth. Idea submitted by Jacob.
Contains: Female: belly expansion, alien pregnancy, breast expansion, stuffing, lactation, and more.

Previous Chapter

-

“You—” Cara sputtered. She was so furious, she could hardly form words.

“Yes, it is I,” said Lor calmly.

“Fix—this!” said Cara. “Fix what you did to me. Get — get rid of it — I never agreed to —”

Lor stared at her blankly. “I’m not sure I understand. The gestation period is one Earth year.”

“I want it out now!”

“It’s not possible,” he responded. “Perhaps your archaic human practices would sometimes allow….you must understand, Cara. Removing the youngling prematurely would result in termination—”

That was the idea!

“—of both you and the child.”

Cara’s heart dropped. “Y-you’re not serious?” she said weakly. “You mean I—I can’t even –” She leaned heavily on the side of her car. She supposed that she had already come to terms with the idea that she would have to carry this thing a whole year. Yet hearing that there were no other options was just another blow to her devolving sanity.

“Screala young are highly interwoven with the lifeforce of the mother, even from conception.”

Cara felt dizzy.

“It’s beautiful, really. The bond is unrivaled.”

“Fuck…fuck you.” She fumbled again for her car keys. She needed to lie down. Sure, this would have been a good opportunity to ask questions and learn more about her condition. But at her present state of anxiety, she could hardly articulate her thoughts.

Lor pulled out a device. It looked like some advanced, metallic remote. He targeted it at her belly and pressed a button. A bright green glow shot out, running over her abdomen, then disappearing again. Lor looked down at the device and gave an odd, inhuman, hum.

“My suspicions are confirmed,” he muttered. “The greater the size, the more durable the young. This one is far less frail than typical Screalan young at this stage of gestation. The immune system is already well into development. I wonder if the fragility of my species, compared to you humans, is part of the reason that we are dying off.”

Cara had finally managed to unlock her car. Just before she could open the door, Lor held it shut. She tugged futilely, but he was strong.

“A lot of the…the immune system…it develops in early childhood, as well,” said Cara dazedly. She was a Bio major, and sometimes she couldn’t help herself. “Exposure to microbes. Breast milk. Different things help, I guess.” She couldn’t believe this. She was talking to an alien. Teaching him about her species. This couldn’t be real.

“Fascinating.” Lor stepped closer, so close that the curve of her swell was soon pressing into his shirt. “Typical screalan young hardly grow at all in-utero. By birth, the immune system is fully developed, the not very substantial compared to you humans. Many of our kind are plagued by poor health and short lifespans. Though your species is far behind us in science and technology, you certainly have us beat in durability.”

Cara was tired.

“I think gestation is the key," Lor went on. "Perhaps the greater size gives more potential for immune development. Well, you are a testament to that.”

“Well, this one – it’s like, half-human, right?” Cara managed, feeling flustered. “It could have just inherited my traits. But either or, I — I guess…”

“You humans are so intriguing,” he muttered. “My race disregarded you for so long, compatibility aside. My kind sees you as insects, almost. Humans are positively starved for contact. Enslaved to pleasure, mating, and dopamine. It’s all so animalistic. But I admit, it has been interesting, taking this form, indulging your rituals…” Then he was touching her waist, drawing her closer, his hot breath on her throat. And his other his hand…his other hand was in her shirt, sliding along her ribs, finding her breast to explore.

And god, it felt good. It was all she’d wanted for what seemed like ages. Lately she was just so sensitive, from her abstinence, and maybe this freak pregnancy too. Cara trembled, eyelids fluttering. Her belly warmed and tightened.

“Ohhh…” Her face reddened as the pressure surged, her belly visibly pushing outwards, pressing harder against Lor’s torso. It was getting rounder, fuller, and firmer, quavering that final inch that it expanded, until it popped out from under her rib cage, now a true belly. A real pregnancy bump, changing her center of gravity as she gripped onto Lor, gasping for breath. “Fuck,” she wheezed as she stared down at herself. She could have been six months pregnant by how big this thing was now. “Fuck,” she repeated, pushing Lor away from her. He looked entirely pleased.

He’d done it on purpose.

Offering him a rude hand gesture, Cara finally managed to clamber into her car. Blinking back the tears in her eyes, she sped off.

-

“What, the, fuck,” Cara repeated for the umpteenth time. She was holding her shirt up as she studied her profile in her bedroom mirror. “I’m becoming a fucking whale.” Her breasts were now overflowing her B-cup bra, the cups pinching into plump flesh. But her belly just looked huge. Well—pregnant.

How the hell was she going to hide this thing?

Cara wrenched her shirt back down, grimacing at the way it stretched over the swell.

“Cara, you home?” Jessica called from the living room

Cara mumbled obscenities under her breath as she continued to study herself in the mirror. She needed to take this seriously and get it under control. She needed to be abstinent from sex, dirty thoughts, contact, imagery, and anything else that could be even remotely simulating. Because if not, she would be a blimp by the end of the year.

After another moment of staring at the hated curve, Cara turned away. She snatched her TV remote up from her bed and turned on the television. It wasn’t hard to find a boring historical documentary to stream. She let it play in the background as she paced, hands absently holding the bump which just felt so weird, having popped out of nowhere.

There was no more room for error. Cara was going to direct all her focus to her studies. She would no longer allow arousal to plague any part of her life.

Drawing a deep breath, Cara sat down with her laptop. The first thing she needed to handle was getting some new clothes.

-

“God, Greg,” Cara groaned. They stumbled back against a shelf, causing several boxes of sugar packets to topple to the floor.

Yet he pressed harder into her, their bodies sweaty and intertwined. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he drew her up, his strong arms holding her close, his nude body sealing hers, until sharp, searing pressure slammed through her, reverberating along her nerve endings, blooming from her core.

Cara gasped awake, eyes darting around as she tried to make sense of the abrupt change of scene and the various feelings overwhelming her physically and emotionally. She was — she was in class. She must have dozed. She had been dreaming, and she’d – “Ahhh…” Cara grunted, hugging her midsection, her face heating as she realized that she was presently having a growth spurt.

The professor had frozen in his lecture, everyone staring at her as she hunched and groaned, hugging her abdomen as it…as it grew. Oh fuck, oh fuck… “Mggghhh…” Cara hummed, as her belly expanded in the baggy sweater she had on. She gasped for breath when the episode finally ended, hands cupping the prominent swell. She’d gotten aroused even while unconscious.

Steadily, she registered the silence of the room and the shocked looks directed her way. “S-sorry,” Cara managed, not sure how much they had all seen. She heaved herself up on clumsy feet. It took a surprising amount of effort.

Now standing, she felt startling unbalanced. She stood there, panting, hands cupping her protruding belly. There was no hiding it. Everyone was staring, as though wondering if she had been this round, this pregnant, before the lecture had started.

“I…I have to go…” she held onto surrounding desks as she stumbled out the lecture hall in a daze.

It was one thing to temper her thoughts when she was conscious, but how the hell was she supposed to control her dreams?

God, she was fucked.

-

Cara adopted even frumpier clothes. Yet it had gotten to the point that she might as well admit pregnancy. Not the alien part. But—pregnancy—was fairly obvious.

“You may want to try the maternity section,” suggested a kind store clerk after she found Cara browsing around for T-shirts in the men’s department.

Cara doubted that she was fooling anyone.

-

“Fuck,” Cara blurted one day as she walked into the apartment after a two hour lecture she had made sure to caffeinate for. Cara squeezed her eyes shut, not before she got a glimpse of Jessica walking through the living room in just a belly shirt and underwear, her perfectly toned body on display. Cara looked in the opposite direction, several books clutched against her torso.

“Oh, hey,” said Jessica as she went into the kitchenette, which was part of the same open area as the living room.

“Jesus Jess, put some clothes on. You know I’m heteroflexible.” As her abdomen tingled, Cara tried to think of gross things. Mold. Zombies Spoiled food. Worms. Anything that wasn’t Jessica’s pert ass in those little panties.

“Are you serious?” said Jessica as she rummaged in the fridge. “Since when are you such a prude? Like seriously, who are you?”

Keeping her eyes averted, Cara made a beeline for her bedroom. She knew her stride had changed. She was almost waddling a little. But she kept it as smooth as possible, and Jessica seemed more concerned with finding some yogurt in the back of the fridge.

“I’m serious Cara,” Jessica went on, raising her voice as Cara shut her bedroom door. “It’s like you lost your personality. You used to be fun!”

Once in the privacy of her room, Cara cupped the firm, round swell. There was a heaviness to it. Sometimes she thought she could almost feel…movement. But that was ridiculous…wasn’t it? She trailed her finger over her innie belly button, which had gotten shallow with the last growth spurt.

God, her libido was insane. Like, stronger than it had ever been in her life. Cara had adopted thinking exercises and meditation. She kept preoccupied with computer games, news media, and anything else to keep her mind busy or blank, even when she was asleep. Sometimes she found herself staring off blankly, biting her lip, trying not to indulge the sexual abyss her mind wanted to dive deep into.

“Volunteer work,” Cara said aloud, partly to tear herself out of her reverie.

Right.

This counted as thirty percent of her sociology grade. She needed to choose a project for the semester. She would spend three hours there, once a week for the rest of the semester, ‘servicing the community.’

Cara looked down at the tablet cradled between her hands. She started to scroll through the options that still had positions open.

Beach cleanup.

Warmth pooled in her core as Cara envisioned a bunch of muscular guys hanging out in the sun wearing just swim trunks.

No, she decided. Bad idea. She quickly scrolled on.

Inmate tutoring.

Cara chewed her lip. Fuck, that sounded even hotter!

She scrolled.

Nursing home worker.

Cara paused and considered.

She imagined blending food into mush, brushing dentures, and bathing old folks. Why, that sounded god-awful! It would be positively boring and decidedly unsexy. This was the assignment for her!

Cara clicked on the position and started the registration process.

-

Things were going well. Her first day at the nursing home, Cara was on kitchen duty, and spent most of her time putting together trays of awful-looking food to accomodate each residents' specific and complicated dietary restrictions. She didn’t mind it. It was mundane and tedious, yet it was enough to occupy her focus. When she wasn’t busy in the kitchen, she was tasked with helping people get about the facility, whether by wheelchairs, walkers, or their own two feet. It was actually kind of enjoyable. The company, at least. Chatting with old folks; hearing their stories. Cara had kept herself so isolated lately, and this was a relief. There were no attractive young men flirting with her, or traipsing around looking sexy in their aprons while making coffee orders.

Cara blinked a few times and came back to her surroundings — the nursing home’s small cafeteria. Mr. Perry had just requested extra sugar-free pudding.

“Right away, sir,” she said as she headed back to the kitchen.

No one glanced twice at her baggy sweatshirt. With the abundance of monitors, ostomy bags, and other medical devices, she doubted anyone noticed or cared about the girth under her oversized attire.

Things are good. Copacetic. Cara’s though her life had really stabilized, at least until her third week at the nursing home, when the new volunteer showed up.

Amber.

The eye-rolling, lip-smacking, punk-rock skank was there neither for coursework nor the kindness of her heart.

“It was part of my sentence,” Amber drawled as she looked around in disgust at the surroundings. “At least I avoided jail this time around.”

Amber was around Cara’s age. She was fit and curvy, wearing some frayed micro shorts and a tight black crop top that just showed everything. Her hair was scarlet, lips dark red. Even the old folks were staring at her. Everything about her drew the attention.

“Right,” said Cara, gaze averted. She was tasked with showing Amber around, it being the redhead’s first day.

“God, this place is depressing,” Amber went on.

“I think it’s kind of fun.” Cara didn’t know why she had responded. It seemed smarter to interact with the other woman as little as possible.

Amber gave Cara a considering look. “I’ll try to keep an open mind,” she murmured.

-

Rather than spending time around the other girl, Cara assigned Amber various chores, but Amber managed to half-ass everything. On top of her own duties, Cara found herself re-sweeping rooms that Amber was supposed to have cleaned, and making a fresh bowl of mashed potatoes, after the one Amber had prepared came out clumpy and full of peelings.

Cara was tired, but at least she was kept busy. And maybe she sort of enjoyed the savage hatred she felt as Amber leaned back on the wall, watching Cara scrub pots that the redhead was supposed to have cleaned. It didn’t seem that Amber did anything other than lean there with her smart phone, an unlit cigarette sticking out of her mouth.

It was the evening shift, and the residents were having a movie night. Once she finished handing out snacks, Cara hoped to get out of there, and maybe study for the Microbiology exam she had coming up.

Cara made one more stop in the pantry to grab some extra juice and decaf for the residents. As she turned around, she startled, nearly bumping into the person who was suddenly standing with her in that small space, blocking the door.

Amber.

“Need something?” Cara managed, forcing a smile. Useless cunt.

“Just wondering…” Amber moved in closer. They were the only staff left at the facility. The three members of the overnight shift would be showing up any moment. “What’s with the act?”

“Act?” said Cara.

“Don’t get me wrong, I like the whole nerdy thing. It’s cute.” Amber had one of those sultry voices; a little hoarse around the edges. She moved yet closer, until Cara had to press herself back into the shelf behind her to avoid making contact. Still, Amber’s lean abdomen was pressing into Cara’s baggy sweatshirt. “Do you not remember me, Cheeky?”

That did it. Cara felt the air puff out of her lungs as she had flashes of memory; an evening out at a night club. Red lips on her throat. Kissing, down to her chest. Hand squeezing her ass. “Oh…” she breathed. They’d met before. At…

“Monster House, about two months ago?” Amber supplied. “I know you were partying hard, but seriously?”

On that particular night, Cara might have taken a…recreational tablet. Or two. “Yeah, okay, I remember.” Vaguely. “But I—I’m not like that anymore.”

“You expect me to believe that you turned your whole personality around in a couple of weeks? What happened babe? You found Jesus?”

“Fuck off.” Cara squirmed as Amber closed in so delightfully. “And get out of my way,” Cara added. It was horribly exhilarating, so terribly wonderful, and Cara had to get out of there.

“Make. Me.”

Amber’s lips met hers, and as much as Cara wanted to pull away, she just found herself leaning into it, kissing hungrily, allowing Amber’s tongue to explore her mouth Amber’s fingers dipped down under Cara’s waistband with no hesitation. Cara gasped as Amber found her entry, Cara’s insides twisting and heaving and it felt fucking ah-mazing to be touched again, Cara body filling with a ball of white, hot pleasure.

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