The Alien Incubator Pt. 02

THE ALIEN INCUBATOR PT. 2

Hello! Let me catch you up real quick on what happened in Part 1: I entered into a surrogacy arrangement with aliens and have been experiencing some rather extreme symptoms in my first few months of pregnancy. Now let's continue.

THE FOURTH MONTH

Before I go entirely negative, let me just discuss for a minute my amazing new linea nigra. It's a dark brown line running up and down the center of my rapidly rounding pregnant belly, if you're not familiar with the phenomenon. I had gotten them well into my previous pregnancies, but never half so dark or half as early as I'd gotten it by this point in my alien pregnancy. They're just a fantastic accent to the whole preggo look, especially against a skin tone as pale as mine. I was at this point pleasantly spherical in my midsection, the linea nigra highlighting my delectable curves from just below my breasts right down to disappearing within my thicket of dark, pregnancy-neglected pubic hair. Whenever I nudely ran my hands over my bump (which was often), I tended to trace my figure straight down along the deeply brown line. It was most satisfying.

Now for the complaining. Everything was so fucking swollen and sore. It was ridiculous. I'd swelled up before, of course, but not nearly so dramatically as I already had just four months into this gestation. A mere third of the way in, according to the alien parents. Were things going to get three times as extreme by the end?! I could hardly imagine such acute growth and pain, but very much dreaded the possibilities. So let's do the rundown real quick. Toes, feet, ankles, calves, thighs, hips, ass, upper pubic area, belly, love handles, back fat, breasts, fingers, hands, upper arms, neck, chin, cheeks: all were visibly swollen, most tended to be sore. What a sight I was!

Then there were the mood swings. I used to get aggravated with PMS-related mood swings; then I got pregnant for the first time and my more extreme gestational emotional rollercoaster put my previous complaints into perspective. More recently, I used to get aggravated with human-pregnancy-related mood swings; then I got pregnant by an alien and have had to deal with the worst shifts in temperament I've ever experienced. Desperate weeping, hysterical laughing, furniture-punching anger, serene contentment: every feeling you could name was on the table during these episodes. This gestation had more harsh and more frequent mood swings, as well as adding "insatiable horniness" to the list of things I had to contend with. The weirdest combo to deal with has to be angry/horny: I have hurt myself a bit downtown once or twice trying to navigate this duo via hate-filled masturbation.

Despite feeling so grotesquely bloated and emotional all the time, I'd sort of gotten my groove back sexually following my hot Motherhood hook-up. My confidence was higher than it had ever been, pregnant or not. I'd never before acted or considered myself slutty. Now I proudly did both. I had to consider where to best practice my newfound looseness. Trying to start a relationship was out for about a million reasons. Casual dating apps didn't seem like they could get the job done. Finding fetishists online who wanted to fuck a preggo sounded pretty promising but might still be too slow-going. I tried putting myself in a slutty man's shoes and got my answer almost immediately: a porno theatre.

My impression of this particular scene was that men would fool around anonymously in dark porno theaters with themselves, others, whatever. You could work out your sexual energy there with like-minded perverts and no speaking. It was sex and there were no strings attached: that was exactly what I wanted, and there was a purportedly (thanks, internet!) decent one just a few minutes away from me.

I went on a Tuesday night. This seemed like just about the most pathetic time to go, which appealed for whatever backwards reason. I wanted to get dirty with a down-on-their-luck, deeply self-loathing clientele. I wanted everything to be as nasty as possible. When I walked in, the smell alone let me know I was in the right place. The predominant scents were of unwashed crotches and semen, to put two reference points on it. There were six other people in the surprisingly large (75 seats, maybe?) theatre; all were men, all were sitting alone. Based on looking at the gently bobbing silhouettes of their heads from the back of the room, at least half of them were actively masturbating. I took my coat off to reveal a blue and red-striped bodycon dress that just barely managed to cover the parts of me that legally had to be covered. No underwear for me: it was business time.

I didn't really know how or where to start, so I set my sights on the guy furthest back in the seats and thus closest to where I entered. Entering this guy's row, I could see from a few seats away that his cock was out of his pants and tightly held in his pumping right hand. "Sir," I nodded politely as I took the seat to the right of his. He stopped jerking and looked me up and down, seemingly admiring my sausage casing-style dress and dramatically swollen preggo physique. I gently removed his right hand from his dick and replaced it with my slowly stroking left hand.

He was a decent size and extremely hard, doubtless close to shooting. Feeling him begin to pulse against my fingers after just a minute or so of jerking him, I impulsively leaned down and took him in my mouth for the orgasm. Rope after hot rope shot onto the roof of my ready-and-waiting mouth. My swallows could barely keep up with the volume. His whole body relaxed after his climax and I removed my head from his crotch, wiping my mouth off with the back of my hand. My other hand had been at my crotch this whole time, though I hadn't quite managed to get myself off. I stood to approach the next man in the theatre, certainly not ready to leave before I'd even reached a single personal climax.

Traveling down three rows and to my right a little bit, I moved on to my next sexual target. He was fat and old, though I minded neither quality. His cock was out, just like the last guy's, but his was quite small. I wordlessly took a seat next to him and reached down to take him in my hand without so much as attempting eye contact. My left hand was stroking his crotch, my right hand buried in my own. The man didn't complain or try to communicate with me, apparently wise enough not to look a gift horse in the mouth. My gaze alternated between watching my hand in action on his dick and watching the biracial couple fuck on the theatre screen. This handjob lasted three or four minutes. His cum shot was lethargic and disappointingly low in volume: this guy had gotten off previously not long before this encounter, I deduced. I wiped his load from my knuckles onto the seat next to me and stood up, still not having reached orgasm myself.

The third man I reached didn't have his dick out at all. He didn't even have his hand on his crotch. I wondered what the hell he was doing here if he wasn't bothering to attend to himself at all. I sat next to him and tapped him on the shoulder. "Could you take your cock out for me?" He shrugged and did as I requested. This guy was excitingly large down there. His dick reached up a few inches higher than the arms of the seats, giving me the idea that I could probably hop onto this impressive specimen for a semi-comfortable ride. So I did just that.

I was only really able to get the tip and maybe the top inch or so into me, and I had to really shove my pregnant gut into this guy's chest and not-insubstantial beer belly. I was facing behind us and making occasional and somewhat awkward eye contact with both of the men I'd previously gotten off. The current target and I bounced together slowly but rhythmically. One of my hands kept me balanced above him using the back of a seat while the other rubbed my clit vigorously. Finally, I got myself off, shooting my load of weird alien ejaculate all over his lap. His eyes widened noticeably; I believe he was rather into my squirting. The clenching of my cunt around his cock seemed to bring him right to the edge of climax too, and I felt him shoot inside me moments later. I kept riding past our dual orgasms. His load slowly leaked out of me, most likely running all the way down his shaft and pooling in his pubic hair. I loved imagining the many messes I was creating in the dark room. I eventually dismounted and took a seat all on my lonesome. Watching another 20 minutes of the porno, I got myself off twice more solo then left.

This behavior had all been extremely unlike me. Though it was me doing it, of course. Extremely unlike not-impregnated-by-an-alien me, I guess you could say. The anonymity and humiliation of using and being used in the dark majorly did it for me. I seemed to get off on the shame of it. I felt guilty and filthy afterward but could not seem to stop masturbating to the memories of what I'd just done. I'd even be touching myself vigorously far past the point of pregnant exhaustion, horniness outweighing all other concerns. My sexual energy just would not dissipate. It didn't really seem to matter how many orgasms I tallied. Sore, tired, ashamed, and rubbing one out was my default state at this moment. So fucking hot.

THE FIFTH MONTH

It was motherfucking confidence time. I'd started to get it back already, especially in that porno theatre. My horniness now needed to be taken out of the darkness and brought into the light. My sexual energies needed to be worked out unembarrassedly, proudly even.

I was feeling much more energetic at this point. If this alien gestation was indeed a year long, reaching month five pretty much put me at the start of my second four-month trimester. The second trimester tended to be the easiest during most pregnancies, especially in terms of not feeling terribly exhausted all the time. Luckily that seemed to be the experience that was now being repeated. It was weird that the timing of everything was just at the start of the second trimester, as I was currently measuring 39 weeks (for a standard singleton pregnancy). I looked ready to pop and I wasn't even halfway through this thing. My mind frequently wandered to wondering how immense I'd end up getting; I tried to push out of my mind these unavoidable thoughts about the upcoming and inevitable.

I did some research on the internet to try to help build my confidence up. Dirty, dirty research. I had to do most of my surfing one-handed, if you catch my drift. I spent the majority of this time on preggophilia.com, a site for pregnant fetishists to meet and share content and whatnot. It made me feel absolutely gorgeous and utterly desirable, though I stopped short of posting pics of myself for public approval. It was certainly a temptation, but I found I was still just a bit too shy for that. My real craving was to invite one of these online perverts to come over and fuck me in the knocked-up flesh. That made me nervous, though, as having a total stranger over for this was pretty damned intimate and risky. I figured I might resort to this in the future, but I wasn't quite there yet.

More helpfully for the moment, I discovered that there was a sort of fetish night that was focused on preggos at a local bar. It was somewhat affiliated with the nearby Motherhood maternity store that I'd already utilized as a pick-up spot. They had a glory hole in the bar's bathroom, usually manned by a pregnant lady during these evenings. It was still rather anonymous, but at least I'd have a better view of the cocks I was working in the fluorescent-lit lavatory. And maybe I could transition an encounter or two into more face-to-face sexual congress. Whatever the case, I desperately wanted to be the one catching dicks through a small hole in a bathroom stall. So perverse, so hot: I was so in.

I attended this Preggo Night in the same ultra-tight dress I'd worn to the porno theatre; it was even tighter now, naturally, with another month of gestational growth under my belt. There was certainly no room for the underwear I hadn't even bothered with last time, so I just had to go commando once more. I drew many eyes on my way to the bathroom. A few guys seemed to be on the verge of talking me up as I passed. "Glory hole," I directed them tersely. They could meet me there. I reached the hole in the large handicapped stall, luckily empty and waiting for me. Once I got into the stall in question, it was only about 30 seconds before a hard cock emerged from the duct tape-lined glory hole. Time to get to work.

I got right down to it, and quite vigorously. My hands and mouth stayed continuously busy for about 20 straight minutes. Overheating after about 5 minutes, I removed my dress and kept going at it completely nudely. I'd say I finished each guy off on average in about 2 minutes. Practice makes perfect, and I was quickly expert at managing to get my big belly right next to the hole so I could take each load right onto my gravid bump. I was an utter, cum-basted mess and I fucking loved it. At first I was trying to rub each ejaculation into myself thoroughly, but my skin could only absorb so much. I was soon dripping semen like a overly-iced pastry regardless of how rapidly I tried to absorb it. My thighs and the floor beneath me took the brunt of the mess as these loads leaked off me. By six or seven cum shots in, I glowed pearly white just about everywhere on my exposed flesh.

I'm not sure why I had this new impulse for copious amounts of semen on my bump, but it was a seriously strong desire and no one seemed to mind too much what I did with their load once they were finished cumming. Win-win: they get off, I get their mess to do with as I please.

I had to show off this glorious state to my adoring public, I felt. I opened the door of my stall to allow people to look in. Initially, people kept coming up to the glory hole as those in line acted as spectators. This was insanely hot to me. It got even better, though, when someone finally asked if they could forego the hole and just come in and be worked by me directly. Quite a relief, as my legs were becoming very sore from having to crouch or kneel. I sat more comfortably on the toilet and continued dealing with cock after cock, still accepting every load right onto my impossibly filthy belly. Giving up on rubbing the voluminous semen into myself, I started using my non-jerking hand for touching my cunt. I got myself off repeatedly as I got guys off repeatedly. My squirting alien ejaculate made me even more of a sight for these perverts. The Amazing Cum-Producing Pregnant Pussy.

It was a truly amazing evening. One of my best.

THE SIXTH MONTH

The pull of exhibitionism persisted. Fantastic. I was really digging the alien pregnancy at the moment, hoping it continued to be so much fun. All this jerking, sucking, and fucking was a real blast. I'd never been this sexually active, nor had I ever enjoyed sex half as much. I got a bit sad thinking of all this ending in a few months and wondered if these aliens might want more children than the two they'd already inserted into me...

My need to show off my hot preggo ass led me to a nude beach. I knew I could turn heads when surrounded by known perverts: how about when flaunting my assets for the not-necessarily-perverted public? Could I win some hearts over to pregnancy love? At the very least, could I find someone to hook up with? I very much wanted to find out, so I headed over to the "Clothing Optional" section of a nearby beach one Thursday morning.

After finding a decent spot for my towel and chair a dozen yards or so from the gentle waves, I disrobed. By this point in my special gestation I was finally living up to that most delicious of words: "gravid." I was now measuring beyond 40 weeks with a single baby, pretty clearly bigger than a standard pregnancy gets your standard lady. I stuck out dramatically, greatly round but not yet dropped. My shape sort of split the difference between a basketball and the famed torpedo. My tits were extremely swollen and milk-filled as well, hanging down heavily on either side of the bump and resting at their lowest point just a few inches North of my newly-outie belly button. I was gigantic and marked recently with a fair amount of stretch marks. I considered these badges of preggo honor.

I walked along the surf slowly, one hand always resting on the most protrusive reaches of my belly. If someone somehow initially missed my gargantuan bump, my arm would direct their eyes straight to it. But no one was missing this bump of mine. I passed several people at towel sites of their own. Stares never left my impressive curves. One guy even placed his hand over his crotch, presumably hiding a developing erection from both me and the non-pregnant nude woman he was there with. Don't get jealous, ladies: get knocked up.

I came upon a naked man and woman in the water up to their knees, just a couple yards from where I was walking at the edge of the water. "Hello!" the man said happily with a wave. I stopped to chat.

"Hi! Nice day for a nude outing, huh?" They both laughed. "I'm Liz."

"Stacie. This is Kyle," the woman responded. "How far along are you, Liz?"

I rubbed the bump with both hands. "Eight months with twins," I massaged the truth to be more comprehendible; and to protect the extraterrestrial truth of my situation. I lifted the bump up a few inches then let it drop back onto my frame heavily. "I'm absolutely huge, right?"

Stacie laughed. "You look great, hon. First pregnancy?"

"Third. Just one kid of my own: I'm a surrogate by trade these days. Do you guys have any?" I couldn't tell from looking at her: her tits looked perky but a little dark-nippled for someone with such light blonde hair. And while his cock drew my eyes repeatedly by looking so substantial (and nicely circumcised, as was my preference), it gave me no clue as to whether he had knocked up his apparent partner.

"We've got two kids, a boy and a girl," Kyle told me. "We loved the pregnancies, so much fun."

"Oh man, yeah!" Stacie was enthusiastic on this point. "Being pregnant was just about my favorite thing ever. Surrogacy, huh? You must enjoy it, too."

I smiled and nodded, hands still rubbing away on my belly. I loved for it to be the center of attention and discussion. "Absolutely I do. Carrying twins has been really amazing. Just getting crazy big. I really look all right?" I knew I did: I was here to flaunt it, after all. But it was always nice to hear.

"You look stunning," Stacie said with a dead-serious face and tone. "I wish I'd gotten to be your size. It's very becoming on you." Kyle nodded in agreement.

"Well thanks, new friends!" I exclaimed. "Should I come over for a rub?" They nodded immediately. I approached, wading in up to my knees. Each of them put a hand on my belly, her gently rubbing and him gently pushing into my firm flesh. I wondered if my pussy would visibly drip fluids down my nude thighs. My eyes closed in pleasure, I noticed in a few moments; I purposefully tried to keep them open. I didn't necessarily want them to know how much their touches got me off. Not yet, at least.

"You feel divine," Stacie muttered, clearly in awe of me.

"Yeah, this is amazing," Kyle agreed. They'd both added their other hand to the mix; I now had four on me. It was wonderful.

"I'm so sorry," I began to try to move things on to the next, slightly-more-intimate stage, "but I'm getting pretty tired on my feet." I gestured toward their blanket with my chin. "Think I could lay down? You're much more than welcome to keep rubbing. I just need to rest." They heartily agreed and we left the water for their blanket area. They had two low-seated chairs surrounding the blanket. It looked like I could lay down between the chairs and they'd be able to sit and easily keep a hand on my belly from such ground-adjacent seats. I was correct in my assessment and we arranged ourselves just so.