Abstinence, Part 7 (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 

-

The following evening, Cara met up with Amber at the dive bar where Amber worked part-time as a bartender.

The place was what one would expect of a dive bar. The rickety building seemed to be jammed into the alleyway of two other buildings, the interior dark and dingy, with only a few people patronizing the cramped establishment and staying for the cheap drinks. There wasn’t much seating, except a couple of stools at the bar, and a table in the corner taken up by some middle-aged regulars. A young couple in college shirts were at the far end of the bar talking closely with heads together. Cara appreciated that the few people here didn’t pay much attention to her.

At seeing Cara, Amber gave a crooked smile and beckoned her over to the bar. Cara found it a struggle to get up into a bar stool. She teetered and gripped the counter to get balanced as the seat creaked ominously beneath her.

Amber just looked amused as she leaned in for a kiss. Cara groaned as Amber lightly bit her bottom lip while pulling away.

“What can I get you?” Amber asked, her voice so sultry and sexy Cara could hardly stand it.

Cara could feel one or two people staring at her now, noticing her past their own conversations, but it wasn’t something that Cara could properly notice. She was too caught up in Amber. “Um…surprise me. Nonalcoholic, I guess.” Cara glanced down at her belly.

“Got it. Soda.” Cara made a face as Amber handed her a can of cola. “Sorry Cheeky, this is a dive bar. No fatty margaritas. No raspberry mojitos. No moscow mules. No —”

“—long island iced teas?” said Cara, letting the fat joke slide.

“We’ve got beer and liquor.”

Cara hummed in faux-disapproval, her eyelashes fluttering down to almost rest on her cheeks.

“But we have a kitchen,” Amber mentioned, leaning on the bar so they were closer. “How about some snacks? On the house.”

Cara wasn’t one to turn away food. Not lately, not since Lor had hit her with that beam ray thing. She idly popped open her cola as she looked back at Amber. “That’s really nice of you.”

“You look good in that dress,” Amber countered.

Cara’s cheeks warmed. She was wearing a tight black minidress with spaghetti straps and a deep V-neck. She honestly felt sausaged into the spandex material, but if she was going to embrace her condition, she might as well go all out. It was so tight, it felt like a second skin, hugging every curve and contour of her swollen body. Her nipples were inches from exposure, while protruding prominently against the thin fabric struggling to contain her fat breasts. Beneath her swollen tits and her deep line of cleavage was her round belly, looking simply immense where it was perched against her lap. She looked as though she was due with triplets by then.

It was only as she heard a bell ringing that Cara realized that she and Amber had been staring at each other.

“First course,” Amber said, nodding towards the kitchen. She must have ordered ahead. She turned and walked towards the window there as Cara tried to gather her bearings. Just a few seconds later, Amber returned with a large platter of food.

Cara hadn’t expected much. It was a dive bar, after all. She worked her way through the mountain of onion rings that were greasy but still appetizing. Before Cara was even finished, Amber had already brought out another platter of fried snacks — this time mozzarella sticks.

Cara munched away. She felt insatiable. When she wasn’t too absorbed in the food, she looked at Amber, who was watching her back as though fascinated by the display. Cara blushed as she licked her fingers. She wanted to say something but she felt awkward and self-conscious, and she suddenly recalled that she and Amber didn’t know each other very well at all.

So she kept eating. It seemed easier, and also, quite rewarding, as her stomach rumbled even after she had finished what had to be two dozen mozzarella sticks and got halfway through a heaping bowl of mac & cheese bites with a basket of truffle fries on the side. God, bar food was wonderful. Cara ate more and more.

The hunger was unrelenting. If there was food around, it needed to be consumed. Sometimes Cara thought about fighting it, but why bother? Why not indulge?

“What do we have here?” A mid-forties man in an apron came out from the back, smiling amiably as he looked between the two girls. “My, my. It looks like you have one hungry baby.”

Cara gulped down her latest boneless chicken wing, finally taking a pause from eating as she blushed deeply.

“Or…babies?” said the guy, now looking Cara over with an incredulous gaze. “Twins, or…? My apologies, we don’t get a lot of expecting mothers around here.”

“It’s a lovely place,” Cara lied as she tried to smile through the discomfort in her tight stomach.

“This is my friend, Cara,” said Amber, looking amused. “Cara, this is my boss, Jonathan.”

“A friend of Amber’s is a friend of mine,” said Jonathan as he wiped his hands on a towel. “Our Amber is known for her eccentric company.” He gave a winked.

“Oh…” said Cara.

“I’m guessing the dad is out of the picture?” said Jonathan, raising his eyebrows.

“Jonathan, why don’t you prod less and work more,” said Amber, shoving him back towards the door to the kitchen. “I put in an order for sliders fifteen minutes ago.”

“Cara, I’m glad you’re enjoying the cuisine,” Jonathan managed to call out before he was shoved back into the kitchen, Amber slamming the door shut behind him.

It wasn’t the most reserved way of treating one's boss. Cara found herself fidgeting a bit, feeling awkward and sweaty.

“Ignore him,” said Amber as she came back over. “Trust me, he’s just happy that someone is willing to eat his cooking.”

“Right…” Cara managed, guiltily. Her hand absently cupped her tight belly. Her body was sore and tense, the stool not offering much support at all. Had Amber mentioned sliders? “Amber, I’m stuffed,” Cara said pleadingly.

Ding.

That chime again. Amber turned and went to the window, now retrieving a platter with at least fifteen sliders as well as a basket of fried mashed potato balls covered in melted cheese. “I guess I overdid it,” said Amber she put the dishes down. “You don’t have to eat it, I can just —”

But Cara was already grabbing up one of the miniature cheeseburgers in each of her hands. She moaned as she ate. They were so delicious, yet she was just so stuffed. She forced them down anyway, chewing and groaning, her forehead sweaty and belly aching. She didn’t want to, but she couldn’t stop. The crease of her cleavage was sleek with perspiration, belly heaving as she struggled to breathe.

Cara ate and ate, the bar food proving quite easy to get down. Everything fit whole in her mouth. She just chewed and swallowed and repeated the process. She lost awareness of her surroundings, everything blurred and muffled as she was consumed by her solitary mission of taking it all in. She had to get every morsel into her mouth. Had to feed this baby.

There was laughter and applause. Cara came out of her reverie to see that she indeed, had eaten all the remaining food and that a small group of people had formed around her, spectating. Cara pressed her lips against her growing nausea. She gazed in horror at the towering pile of dirty plates, bowls, and baskets pushed to the side of the bar, representing everything she had consumed.

Something clinked against the counter. Cara’s eyes snapped to the large glass Amber had set down. It was filled with a milky white fluid.

Amber shrugged an apology. “Jonathan said he made it special for you. You don’t have to —”

Cara had already pulled the milkshake over and closing her lips around the straw. She sucked it down in no time. It was thick and sweet, just a typical ice cream milkshake. Yet it pushed her over capacity. Cara whined out after the final gulp, pulling off of the straw to gasp for breath.

Her hands cupped her belly. Her whole dress was damp with sweat now, her body tight, abdomen pulsing. She struggled to breathe as people giggled, murmured, and pointed at her.

I want to go. Cara couldn’t speak, she just gave Amber a desperate look as she tried to hold back the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Her stomach felt like it would tear right apart.

“Show’s over,” Amber said as she sneered around at Cara’s inebriated fans. “Jonathan, I’m heading out!” Amber then called over her shoulder as she leaned down and rummaged around for something under the bar. She resurfaced a moment later with a mini backpack and her leather jacket.

“Your shift isn’t over for another hour,” Jonathan called back from the kitchen, but Amber was already walking out from behind the bar.

She came over to Cara and wrapped her arm behind her. “Let’s get out of here. Can you stand?”

That seemed like a silly question, but maybe not. Cara grunted as she shifted down from the chair, the surge of strain causing her to whine again as she gripped onto Amber. Her free hand tugged down her dress, which kept sliding up now. The seams were straining and looked close to tearing. “I overdid it,” Cara mumbled as they pushed past some drunk guy in glasses.

Cara was barely cognizant of being helped into the passenger seat of Amber’s car. She dozed in and out of consciousness as Amber drove, sometimes moaning and cupping at a stitch of tightness in her belly.

Cara was only vaguely aware of being helped out of the car again and then dragging herself, with Amber's support, into a new building. She could hear a police siren somewhere in the background, and the hallway to the elevator stunk of urine. Soon they were ascending, then staggering to an apartment door with chipped paint and some deep scratches on the plaster. Amber unlocked the door and helped Cara inside.

Amber had mentioned that she lived on the bad side of town. It just made the edgy girl more appealing somehow. Amber helped Cara onto the couch. The impact made Cara squeal out, her belly feeling like it would pop. “I can’t, I can’t…” Cara yammered incoherently, hands desperately rubbing over her belly.

Amber sat close and hushed her, cradling and murmuring. She stroked Cara’s hair as Cara buried her head in the crook of her neck.

Then steadily, everything faded again.

-

Cara awoke to a faint tearing noise. Her hand absently cupped her side, encountering frayed threading where a seam had been. She moaned quietly as she groggily blinked around the dark studio apartment. She recalled the events that had brought her here and covered her eyes with her free hand.

“You’re awake.”

Cara uncovered her eyes, only then noticing Amber sitting at the opposite end of the couch she was sprawled across, Cara’s feet propped up on Amber’s lap. Cara sighed and relaxed again, sinking back on the cushions. Now her hands moved to cup her swollen belly. It was tight, but the pressure was no longer unbearable. God, she was getting huge. “Eugh, I’m a mess,” said Cara as her fingers rubbed against the tingling orb.

“You’re fine,” Amber countered, the corner of her mouth pulling upward.

Cara sighed. “I should go,” she mumbled, but she didn’t move because Amber had begun to rub her feet. It felt nice.

“It’s the middle of the night,” Amber noted.

Cara allowed her eyelids to drop. She felt Amber gently removing Cara’s legs from her lap, and felt the couch shift, as the redhead crept a little closer.

Cara peeked at her, if just to admire the combat boots and vinyl ruby tube dress that fit Amber perfectly. Then again, Amber would look good wearing a potato sack. The girl was just gorgeous.

Cara knew that she should have gone home, yet she couldn’t fight that deep-seated desperation. That need for contact.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” Amber mumbled, causing Cara to blush. Amber leaned in and kissed her, even though she had to lean over the orb that was now pressed between them.

Cara braced her hands on the couch and did her best to get upright despite that she felt like a turtle that had fallen on its shell. She kissed Amber back, her body heating and stirring. She hummed as she was pulled closer, Amber’s hands rubbing her belly and exploring her body.