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One day oc Drabble (ft. GIRLS!)
🕑 Added 2023-07-13 18:22:00 +0000 UTCI was a little nervous to post this, since it was a quick fic I pulled together in a day, but also i thought. Why not? I don’t have many people here to be too embarrassed! And this is my first female centric fetish fic. I have included pregnant women in fiction before, but never in a way that is focused upon in a fetish context. I didn’t really realize my girl loving heart needed this until now. 😂 So enjoy(?)
⚠️content warnings- poisoning, emetophobia, PDA (in a sense). ⚠️
These are two characters from my alien race, where afab characters (often called selts in the text) can become spontaneously pregnant when incredibly ill/wounded as a means of healing. The characters named are Sul’ve (pronounced Sull-vay), Mordan (mor-Din), and Piqotte (pea-cot)! Just so it’s a bit easier to read knowing how to say their names.
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“Sul’ve, don’t give them the time of day.”
Mordan’s voice was deep and rooting, her big hand propped sturdily in front of Sul’ve’s much smaller frame to keep the selt at bay. The group of four selts across from them only found humor in this. Their sneering at Sul’ve like she was being scolded by her mother for fighting only fueled her rage even more.
“All talk and no bite, isn’t she?” one of them scoffed, twisting what looked like a pebble in their hand. Sul’ve knew she wasn’t ‘no bite’. She may have been svelte, but she could hold her own. Though, currently, her own was being held by Mordan.
“And what about you?” Sul’ve spat, pushing Mordan’s hand away from her chest. “You must think you’re the only bad guys worth their weight in Tamar; walking around with your little group.”
“If you’re the competition? Easily,” a mauve selt said, tucking his hands into the pockets of his pants. He stood tucked behind the yellow selt that presented themself as the leader. “Don’t press your luck.”
“At least I don’t devote myself to another average selt,” Sul’ve said with a grimace. “You’re not big, you’re followers. Brain dead ones at that.”
“Almost as brain dead as your big friend there, right?” The yellow selt said. Oh, Sul’ve wanted to punch them in the face so badly. She didn’t even remember what had started this fight again- but everyone in Tamar had run into these jerks at some point or another. They weren’t as big as they thought, but they were persistently annoying about it.
Sul’ve ignored Mordan’s light warning grasp on the back of her shirt and stepped forward towards them.
“Sul’ve, don’t,” Mordan hissed, but Sul’ve was already standing face to face with the yellow selt, who had stepped up to meet her, still rolling the pebble between their fingers. If she stepped back now, she’d be a laughing stock. Not that she wanted to back up. No, instead, she reeled her fist back and landed a walloping punch against the jaw of the selt that had stood way too close to her.
The selt was nearly knocked off of their feet, stumbling and grabbing their face in pained surprise. They righted themself quickly, holding a hand out to the rest of the selts behind them as means of keeping them in their place. Sul’ve kept her body tensed, but she was caught off guard when the selt stood, punched her quickly in the gut to fold her, then slapped their hand over her mouth. Sul’ve immediately choked on that little pebble.
She knew at that moment, the second she gagged on it, that it wasn’t a pebble. The selt grabbed her around her shoulders, their opposite hand still grasped tightly around her mouth and jaw, leaning her forward until the item dropped towards the front of her mouth. Without a second to react in defense, her jaw was forced closed, shattering glass between her teeth. Then she was shoved backwards.
It was instantaneous, the feeling of burning and numbing that spread through her entire face, then body. Sul’ve’s vision pricked with white and red, her body locking up, only somewhat aware of Mordan’s touch rushing to her aid. She didn’t remember much else, but she came to terms with death as quickly as she could manage.
But… she woke up. Angels knew how long it’d taken for her to wake up, but she woke up. Well, at least she thought so. Her eyes opened to blearily face the roofing, briefly wondering if the afterlife just looked like Mordan’s home.
Her head pounded harder than she’d ever experienced in her life, her heart pounding in tandem in her chest and throat. It was difficult, but she managed to twist her head to the side to see Mordan. It felt like she had been frozen solid in ice.
“Thank the gods,” Mordan mumbled, sighing in relief at Sul’ve’s awakening, dropping her head forward to gently lean against the smaller selts stomach. “You’re alive...”
Sul’ve tried to reply, but the only sound that came from her mouth was a broken wheeze. Her tongue still felt numb, but the entirety of her mouth was bone dry. Mordan understood immediately what she needed, hopping up and retrieving water.
“Here, careful,” Mordan said, carefully helping guide a glass with a narrow opening towards Sul’ve’s mouth, helping her drink a couple sips. It helped immediately, and Sul’ve felt she could sigh without it feeling like sand coated her throat.
“How long was I out?” Sul’ve asked, her voice still hoarse, though audible.
“About a day,” Mordan said, sitting herself back down next to the bed. Mordan’s bed. “How are you feeling? What are you feeling?”
“Like… I just got thawed from ice,” Sul’ve mumbled. She still felt a weight like a yuff sitting on her chest, and when she tried to move her hands, she couldn’t. The only part of her body she could move was her head, and that stopped pretty quickly down her neck. She felt paralyzed.
Mordan lifted Sul’ve’s hand gently, watching for any signs of pain in doing so. There were none. But she could feel Mordan’s touch on her skin, and that was probably something, right? The green selt carefully worked Sul’ve’s fingers at the joints, bending and flexing them manually until Sul’ve could get the tips of her fingers to twitch.
There wasn’t much else to it- over the next week, Mordan helped Sul’ve through every second of her recovery. Getting water and food into her system, helping exercise her joints to get them used to movement again, and just keeping her company. Sul’ve wasn’t always used to so much emotional devotion, and Mordan had shown it to her from the second they met. It’d been years, even knowing each other for a prolonged amount of time before the two received their corruption marks. Despite the years, Sul’ve was still getting used to the attention.
It took a week and a half total for Sul’ve to be able to sit herself upright on her own. Once she on her feet, she could walk. It was slow and grueling, but she could walk. It was sitting and standing on their own that caused her problems. She had help along the entire way, thankfully. She’d have easily rotted away by then if not for Mordan.
The more she was able to sit up, the more she started to feel other issues arise. Multiple times that Mordan helped her sit upright, pulling her forward gently by both of her hands, Sul’ve felt a swirling of nausea in her stomach. Must have been a symptom from the poison that she hadn’t encountered yet. Perhaps due to being bedrest for so long. That, or because of getting clobbered in the stomach. One of the two. Sul’ve could ignore it for a while, but the morning she was pulled up sitting and couldn’t suppress the gag was the worst feeling yet.
It was a disgustingly slow sensation, her body still running off beat. If it weren’t for Mordan being immediately prepared with a trash bin, Sul’ve would have thrown up onto her lap. It came up slow and torturously every time she was sick after that, and she thought she would suffocate each time. After four days of this, she learned that, against her better judgment, two fingers down the throat when she felt nauseated brought everything up much quicker. Mordan rightfully hated when she did this, squeamish at the sound of gagging and worried for Sul’ve’s health, but she stuck around regardless to make sure she was okay.
Once a month had passed, and Sul’ve could move fairly well on her own, she was still often feeling that sick feeling in the center of her stomach. Concern had embedded itself into her thoughts, as well as Mordan’s. Mordan was much more upfront about the subject than Sul’ve wanted to be.
“Are you pregnant?” She asked, running her hand over Sul’ve’s bloated belly. As it would be after throwing up nearly every day for a month.
“No, I was poisoned,” Sul’ve retorted, but she didn’t pull away from Mordan’s touch. Mordan only looked up at her.
“That’s my point. You were poisoned badly. I thought you were gone by the time I got you home,” she said. “That’s the exact type of state your body would have to be in, wouldn’t it?”
Sul’ve just grumbled, lifting her shoulders towards her ears. She didn’t want that to be her cure for poisoning. She wasn’t born yesterday, she knew that near death experiences could land her pregnant as a healing method, but that didn’t mean she wanted it to happen. She didn’t need a kid.
That being said- even in her current, assumedly un-pregnant state, Mordan’s light touches were comforting. They immediately relaxed her.
Annoyed as she was, Sul’ve wasn’t surprised one bit when Mordan turned out to be right. Or, at least seemed to be. When another month and a half passed, Sul’ve’s condition almost back to normal past the continued sluggishness, Mordan’s hands never left the continued swell that was Sul’ve’s stomach. She wasn’t big or anything, but it was enough that she could feel Mordan’s large hand cup around the underside of her belly with ease. Every time she did it, it sent a shiver up Sul’ve’s spine.
“Now do you think you’re pregnant?” Mordan asked, staring endearingly towards Sul’ve’s shape when she removed her shirt to change. Her high waisted pants were pulled up to the base of her brassiere, the smooth fitted fabric framing the perfect roundness of her midsection. Sul’ve planted her hands on the base of her stomach, running them up the expanse with a shrug.
“Could be anything,” she muttered, but she saw the way Mordan’s face blushed white at the visual of her rubbing her own stomach. She did it for a second longer, feeling the tightness of her skin under her fingers and holding Mordan’s attention with a hint of deviousness in her heart. “Hopefully it’ll just go away.”
“No,” Mordan said quickly, waiting for Sul’ve to slip a shirt on to pull her close, tugging the fabric taught over her stomach again. “I like it…”
Sul’ve groaned, but let Mordan wrap her up in her strong arms. She twisted slightly to hook her arm over the selts shoulder, resting.
“Whatever happens, we’re not having a kid,” she said, feeling Mordan crane her neck to look up at her.
“I know. But maybe we wouldn’t be the worst parents,” Mordan mumbled, then shook her head. “No, we would. I don’t mind being bad enough to be in Tamar, but I don’t want to risk having a child around the others that live here. Maybe if we changed our ways and moved back to Wella’j…”
“You’ve gone insane,” Sul’ve said, twisting out of Mordan’s hurriedly releasing grasp. “I don’t want to go back there. It’s not for me. Maybe for you-“
“Not for me either. I’m with you, wherever you go,” Mordan said strictly, and Sul’ve smiled.
“Good,” she said.
Since the fight, Sul’ve had only gone home once or twice. It wasn’t unnatural for her to spend most of her time in Mordan’s quaint and comfortable home. They were direct neighbors, after all, so it’s not like she was missing home. It was better than being home alone when she was still feeling less than herself. When it became perfectly clear that Sul’ve was, indeed, pregnant, it was also perfectly clear that Sul’ve was staying long term with Mordan.
While she still needed the help, Sul’ve was trapped in a new state of self consciousness. She had no desire to be pregnant, no desire to bear a child. But… Mordan’s new interest in her form was playing games with her psyche.
It seemed like every moment she had the opportunity to, Mordan’s hands were glued to Sul’ve’s growing belly. And every single day that Sul’ve added to her circumference, Mordan’s hands continued to fit perfectly over the swell. She couldn’t pinpoint whether the attention made her love her shape or abhor it. Whether she enjoyed being turgid or not, though, was unrelated to loving said attention.
About midway through the pregnancy was when Sul’ve started to feel nervous whenever they left the house. Going outside daily to walk or shop for goods or food down market lane was part of her recovery, and though it made her legs feel like water, the exercise helped build up her strength. But that was all before she stuck right out of her clothing visibly. She kept her eyes locked on the people around her whenever they were in a busy location, making it clear that she was not weak as a result of her pregnancy. (No, she was weak as a result of the poisoning.)
Sul’ve was quickly exhausted on this specific day, waiting lightheadedly for Mordan to pick through a basket of ripe peppils and wripes for dinner. With a moan of exasperation, she leaned back to use the stall table as leverage to hold herself up, causing Mordan to whip her head around to look at her.
“What’s wrong?” She asked, and Sul’ve shook her head.
“Nothing. Tired,” she said. But she didn’t just feel tired. She felt… weird. A different feeling deeply rooted in her stomach bloomed. She couldn’t pinpoint the feeling for a while- was she starting to feel nauseous? No, that wasn’t it. She would have thrown up already if that were the case. Maybe she was just more tired than she thought.
Scratch that. The second she dropped the thought, signing it off as weariness, something stirred within her. Literally. She jumped, grabbing the back of Mordan’s sleeve with one hand, pressing her fingers into her lower stomach where the sudden feeling of movement jittered inside of her.
Mordan was immediately on top of Sul’ve’s sudden change of demeanor, and she quickly paid, pulling the two of them to the closest empty pathway.
“Somethings wrong. What’s wrong?” Mordan asked again. This time, her voice demanded an answer. Sul’ve couldn’t form her mouth around the words she wanted to say, so, instead, she grabbed Mordan’s hand, pressing it tight against her stomach, over the last place she felt movement. Mordan waited patiently, holding the other side of Sul’ve’s belly with her other hand. The movement wouldn’t happen again. Sul’ve groaned, jostling her stomach the best she could, sucking it in, pushing it out, anything to try to irritate the infant into moving more.
Mordan let out a shaky breath from her nose, running her thumbs along the curve.
“Okay— okay, I get it…” she mumbled, her face radiating heat like a fireplace. She hooked her hand into the crook of Sul’ve’s back, pulling her forward and back out into the open so they could make their way back home. The second they pulled away from the privacy of the path, the movement in her stomach returned. Of course it did. It twisted and tumbled inside of her, and Sul’ve didn’t hesitate at that point to reach behind her back to grab Mordan’s hand, pulling it around to lay directly on her stomach. At that moment, she didn’t give a shit who saw.
Mordan tensed, but she didn’t pull away. Her hand only melted closer to the smaller selt at the feeling of the movements under her palm. She didn’t remove her hand once from Sul’ve’s stomach until they reached home. She hurriedly put her basket of ingredients onto the dining table, then pulled Sul’ve into the bedroom, where she lifted her with ease and laid her on the bed. Sul’ve knew what Mordan wanted, and she lifted her shirt, folding the edge over her chest, and pushed the fabric of her pants down underneath the base of her stomach, revealing its expanse clearly for the woman to see.
Mordan’s fingertips tracing along the skin of her stomach made Sul’ve shiver, accentuating the round shape, and pressing gently against the spot where the movements had been. Mordan’s provoking must have been much nicer than Sul’ve’s earlier, and immediately upon being pressed like a button, a visible cacophony of jabs and wriggles exploded from her lower stomach.
Sul’ve moaned at the feeling, completely and entirely unsure if it was because she loved the feeling of Mordan’s hands, or if it was just a moan of vexation at the internal reaction said touches had caused. It didn’t matter which was which, for Mordan’s hands did one last lap around Sul’ve’s belly before she gently returned the hem of her pants up and over her stomach, then tugged her shirt back down.
“Why’d you stop…?” Sul’ve asked, sighing as Mordan stood up straight.
“I have to put away the groceries,” she said seriously, taking Sul’ve’s hands when offered to help pull her back to her feet.
“Uhuh. Fine,” Sul’ve sighed, and Mordan smiled at her with a crooked glance.
“I thought you didn’t like being pregnant,” she said teasingly, and Sul’ve rolled her eyes.
“I don’t,” she said sternly, crossing her arms over the counter to watch the larger selt pick through and organize the vegetables. “I like that you like it though. You’re a big softie; I like it when you’re tender with me.”
Mordan’s cheeks turned white at her words, but she remained looking down at the food she worked with.
“Yeah? Then I’ll do it more often, then, hm?”
“More than you already do?”
“Obviously it’s not enough,” Mordan snickered, peering up briefly at Sul’ve’s face. “You were nearly beside yourself when I stopped just then.”
“Oh, shut up,” Sul’ve uttered, her own face heating up. “I’m six months pregnant. You better wish I’m year bound at this point, with how obsessed you are over seeing me like this.”
“I am, don’t worry,” Mordan said earnestly. And, as she promised, Mordan somehow paid even more attention to Sul’ve as her pregnancy progressed. The infants movements became continuous, bringing her nausea back into full swing as it kicked every which way at her organs. She felt it in her chest, being kicked against her ribs and causing her to shoot awake in the middle of the night gasping for breath. Or, in her stomach, pushing her dinner right back up into her mouth.
“I almost wish that damn poison just killed me,” she grumbled, nine months pregnant with zero signs of oncoming labor, and all of the signs of being year bound. She shouldn’t have even said it jokingly; the action alone put her intent into the air, intentional or not.
“Don’t say that,” Mordan said, sitting cross legged on the floor in front of Sul’ve, gently massaging balm into her calves, ankles, and heels, hoping to relieve her of some of her pain. The rigidness in her joints from the poison remained, proving to now be a permanent resident of her system. “I’m not surprised you are yearbound- that poison really did almost kill you. The more your body can heal with a longer pregnancy, the better.”
Sul’ve scoffed, laying backwards on the floor against the pillows that Mordan had put down for her. “My point still stands.”
Mordan just silently continued to tend to Sul’ve, scooting over to sit at the bend of her side to massage the balm into her hands and fingers, then her stomach. Sul’ve could have easily done this herself, but Mordan was so ready and willing, that she just gave in and let her have her way. For her size and stature (tall and incredibly strong), Mordan was surprisingly submissive and gentle.
The baby was calm during these times as well, reveling in the treatment like Sul’ve was.
By her eleventh month, Sul’ve finally built up the guts to do something she’d been putting off for months. A letter to her sister.
“Do you really think she’ll take the baby?” Mordan asked, nerves taking over her usually stoic voice. She sat from behind Sul’ve, her arms wrapped loosely around Sul’ve’s belly, hands tucked under the base.
“Yeah. At least, I hope so. Piqotte is incredibly generous. If she hasn’t learned to hate me since we came here, then I’m wishing she’ll show me a bit of sympathy,” Sul’ve mumbled, hovering her pen over the letter paper.
Starting was the hardest part. Dear sister. Too formal? Piqotte. Too casual? Formal was probably more likely to come off as insincere. She started it with Piqotte’s name. She told the truth, explaining her fight and how it ended with her being poisoned. She explained that she felt unfit to care for a child, let alone in Tamar. If she would be so gracious as to raise the child with their parents…
Unconsciously, Sul’ve signed the paper off with an “I love you,” but couldn’t bring herself to restart the letter to omit it. She did love her sister, despite her past actions landing her with a corruption mark. Mordan got her letter sent out as soon as it was finished, and a response was in her hands less than a week later.
Piqotte’s answer was sweet and honest, accepting Sul’ve’s baby without a second thought. Her instructions were to send out a letter as soon as the baby was born, and she would meet Mordan at the edge of the Tamar woods to pick the baby up. She asked for nothing in return.
That was a weight off of Sul’ve’s shoulders. Now the only worry was the birthing part. When the end of the twelfth month came around, and Sul’ve finally started to feel the rolling cramps make themselves known, she wrote the second letter to her sister with a meet-up date before she would be too tired to.
She had contractions for a full day, Mordan by her side the entire time, before she finally went into labor. It was both not as bad as she thought time-wise, as well as worse than she thought pain-wise. It lasted throughout the entire night; no cries to be heard until the sun was rising the next morning. She was the same rare rose color that Sul’ve and Piqotte were.
Mordan left briefly to send the letter out to Wella’j, leaving Sul’ve alone with the infant for a small while. She was tiny for a yearling, and somehow much smaller than Sul’ve’s gravid size would have insinuated. but she was cute, so Sul’ve let her get away with it.
Four days after the letter had been sent, knowing the mail would carry to Wella’j within two, Sul’ve helped bundle the baby to withstand the chill, then insisted she join the travel.
“Sul’ve, you gave birth only days ago. You are in no shape to travel out into the woods,” Mordan warned her, but Sul’ve held the infant tightly in her arms, not stepping down. Her legs were still weak, her stomach still swollen, but she wanted to go.
“I want to see my sister,” she said sternly. Mordan was powerful, but she knew that she would not be changing the smaller selt’s mind anytime soon. She sighed.
“…Fine. Please let me know at any time if you are not well enough to keep going. I will carry you,” she said. Sul’ve nodded, holding tighter to the child and following Mordan out into the cold.
Like she promised, Piqotte was waiting for them at the edge of the woods, along the road that connected Wella’j and Tamar. She was cloaked in warm clothing, her long hair worn down, and looking surprised as she turned her face upwards to see Sul’ve. She’d expected only Mordan and the baby.
“Sul’ve, what are you doing out here?” She asked worriedly, hurrying forward past the border, immediately disregarding the threat of radiation. She pulled her twin into a tight hug, placing her mittened hands over the residual swell of Sul’ve’s belly before holding them out to take the baby.
“I wanted to see you,” Sul’ve said, passing the baby to her. Piqotte’s face scrunched with a smile and the threat of tears, but she held back on the latter.
“It’s been quiet without you. Mothers send their love,” she said, twisting Sul’ve’s heart in her chest. Obviously, she hadn’t seen Piqotte or either of their mothers since being banished to Tamar. It wasn’t so simple to return home for a visit.
“Send my love back,” Sul’ve replied, then turned Piqotte by her shoulders to gently nudge her back outside of the woods, relieving her of Tamar entirely. “I would ask you to stay longer, but that would be stupid. Just make it home safe, and write to me every so often.”
Piqotte looked heartbroken to be pushed out, but she nodded understandingly. The woods weren’t a safe place to hang around in, especially with the newborn in towe.
“What do you want to name her?” She asked suddenly. Sul’ve recoiled.
“Anything you want.”
“No, what do you want to name her?”
Sul’ve thought, looking between Mordan and Piqotte. She’d had a thought, of course.
“Bessai.”
Piqotte smiled, nodding proudly before turning and taking her leave. Sul’ve didn’t ask her to, but Mordan lifted her and carried her back anyway. Upon returning home, Sul’ve dropped her coat tiredly on the floor of the bedroom, collapsing onto Mordan’s bed. Mordan laid down beside her, pulling the blanket up and trailing Sul’ve’s still swollen stomach as she did so.
“I’m going to miss that,” she admitted, and Sul’ve couldn’t suppress her grin.
“Yeah, too bad for you, huh?” She asked, warranting a similar grin from Mordan.
“Are you ready to do it again?”
“…Shut up.”
