Chapter 1: The First Week Of The Cocoon
Seven days of snow had shrunken the world to the loft's timbered ceiling, but Rosie woke to a different pressure entirely. Her skin felt too tight across her ribs. Her breasts ached with a fullness that pulled a gasp from her throat before she could stop it. She pressed a palm to her chest and the weight of them surprised her, dense and unfamiliar against her fingers.
Kyle was already awake. He lay propped on one elbow, watching her with an intensity that made the cold air between them feel charged. His gaze dropped to her hand, to the way her fingers curved around the swollen flesh of her breast, and something dark and possessive flickered in his eyes.
"You awake?" he asked, his voice rough from sleep.
"Barely." She shifted beneath the wool blanket, and her thighs brushed together, the heat of her own body startling her. "Kyle. My breasts feel strange."
He was on her before she finished the sentence, his calloused hand replacing hers, cupping the heavy weight of her through the thin cotton camisole. He groaned, low and guttural, as his thumb swept across the stiff peak of her nipple.
"God," he breathed. "They're bigger. Rosie, they're already bigger."
She looked down at herself. The camisole strained against her chest, the fabric pulling taut over a curve she didn't remember having last night. Her belly, too, had softened, a gentle roundness pushing against the waistband of her sleep shorts where there had been nothing but flat skin the day before.
"How is that possible?" she whispered.
Kyle didn't answer. His hand slid down, spanning the swell of her belly, and his breath caught. He pressed harder, his fingers splaying over the firm warmth of her. Then he moved, ducking his head, pressing his ear flat against the slope of her stomach.
"Does it hurt?" he asked, his voice muffled against her skin.
"No. It feels full." She carded her fingers through his short, thick hair. "Like something's rooting itself in me."
He made a sound that wasn't quite a word. His lips moved against the cotton, kissing the curve of her belly through the fabric, and his hands dug into her hips, pulling her closer. She felt the vibration of his voice against her skin when he spoke again.
"How does it feel?" His mouth dragged upward, rucking the camisole with it. "Tell me exactly how it feels."
Warmth bloomed low in her belly, pooling between her thighs. She spread her legs without thinking, and Kyle settled between them, the weight of him pressing her into the mattress. His broad chest flattened against hers, and the pressure on her tender breasts made her gasp, a sharp spike of pleasure.
"Heavy," she breathed. "Sore. Like they're filling up."
He pushed the camisole higher, baring her breasts to the cold air. The peaks tightened to hard points, and Kyle stared at them with a hunger that made her feel utterly devoured. His hands moved to cup them, and he groaned as they overflowed his palms.
"You're perfect," he said. "Christ, Rosie. You're already so full."
He lowered his mouth to her nipple, and she arched into him as his tongue swept across it. The sensation shot straight to her cunt, and she whimpered, fisting the blanket beneath her. He suckled hard, drawing the tender flesh deep into his mouth, and the ache in her breasts transformed into something sharper, more demanding.
"Kyle." His name came out breathy, almost begging.
He pulled back just enough to look at her, his lips swollen, his eyes dark. His thumb circled the wet peak he'd abandoned, and she shuddered.
"Tell me you can feel it," he said. "Tell me you can feel it taking hold."
She reached down, guiding his hand back to the soft swell of her belly. His palm pressed flat, and she felt the heat of his skin through the cotton. It pooled inside her, a slow, insistent pulse that matched the beat of her heart.
"I can," she said. "I feel it right here. Like it's already mine."
His jaw tightened. He pulled the camisole off her entirely, tossing it aside, and then his hands were on her shorts, dragging them down her thighs. She lifted her hips to help him, and the cool air kissed her wet skin, making her gasp.
"You're soaked," he said, his voice ragged. He ran a finger along her slit, gathering the slickness, and brought it to his mouth. "Look at you. Your body knows exactly what it wants."
She couldn't argue. Every nerve in her body was singing for him, a desperate, primal ache that made her mind go blank. She reached for the button of his trousers, and he caught her wrist, pinning it above her head.
"Not yet," he said. "I want to taste you first."
He kissed his way down her belly, pausing to press his open mouth against the swell of her. Then he settled between her thighs, his shoulders pushing them wide, and spread her open with his thumbs. The first drag of his tongue along her slit made her whole body seize.
"Fuck," she breathed.
He growled against her, and the vibration rippled through her cunt. He licked her slowly, deliberately, circling her clit until she was trembling, and then he pushed two fingers inside her, curling them upward.
She gasped, her hips bucking into his hand. He worked her relentlessly, his mouth sealed to her clit, his fingers driving deep, and the pressure inside her built until she was teetering on the edge.
"Come for me," he said against her, the words a command. "Come on my tongue."
She shattered. Her orgasm crashed through her, wave after wave, and she cried out his name as he fucked her through it with his fingers. He lapped at her until she was oversensitive, twitching, and then he crawled up her body, his weight settling between her thighs.
His cock pressed against her slick entrance, thick and hard, and she reached down to guide him. He pushed inside her slowly, inch by inch, and the stretch of him made her moan, her eyes rolling back.
"Look at me," he said. "I want to watch your face."
She forced her eyes open. He was buried deep inside her, his jaw tight, his brow slick with sweat. He lowered his mouth to her ear, his voice a low, rough thing.
"You're going to get so big," he said. "And I'm going to be right here, feeling every inch of it."
He began to move, slow and deep, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Each thrust pressed against the tender swell of her belly, and she felt every inch of him, a fullness that bordered on too much.
"Harder," she begged.
He gave her harder. He fucked her with a brutal, devoted rhythm, his hips slapping against hers, his hands braced on either side of her. She came again, clenching around him, and he followed with a groan, spilling deep inside her.
He stayed there, buried to the hilt, his forehead pressed to hers. His breathing was ragged, and when he finally pulled out, she felt the heat of him leaking from her.
He pressed his palm to her belly. "That's it," he whispered. "That's how we do it."
The words hung in the cold air between them. Kyle's palm stayed pressed to her belly, his fingers spread wide over the soft swell. Rosie lay beneath him, still catching her breath, the heat of him slowly cooling on her skin.
Then she felt it. A warmth that started deep inside her, where he'd spilled, spreading outward like roots drinking from wet soil. It pulsed through her abdomen, through her chest, and she gasped.
"What?" Kyle's hand tightened. "What is it?"
"I don't know." She looked down at herself. "I feel warm. Like something's moving."
He sat up, his eyes following the line of her body. The camisole was gone, her breasts bare, and he stared at them with a dawning wonder. They seemed heavier now. Fuller. The nipples had darkened, the areolas spreading wider across the pale skin.
"Rosie," he said slowly. "They're bigger. You're bigger."
She followed his gaze. The gentle roundness of her belly had grown. It pressed outward, a firm, pronounced curve that hadn't been there when she'd woken an hour ago. She ran her hands over it, feeling the taut warmth of her own skin.
"That's not possible." She shook her head. "People don't grow that fast."
Kyle didn't answer. He lowered his face to her belly, pressing his open mouth against the swell. His breath came hot through the fabric of her sleep shorts. He slid his hands around her waist, spanning the new width of her, and let out a low, shaking exhale.
"I can hear it," he whispered. "I can hear something."
A pulse threaded through his words. She felt it too, a rhythm that wasn't her heartbeat, faint but unmistakable, beating deep inside her womb.
"Kyle, what's happening to me?"
He looked up at her, his eyes wild and dark. "We're doing it." His voice cracked. "It's taking. It's really taking."
She wanted to argue, to find a rational explanation, but her body was making its own argument. Her breasts ached with a heaviness that spilled over her palms. When she cupped them, they filled her hands completely, dense and tender, the weight of them pulling at her shoulders.
"I'm so full," she breathed.
He reached for her, pulling the sleep shorts down her hips and off her legs. She let him, too stunned to resist. He spread her thighs and looked at her, and she knew what he was seeing. Her belly, round and prominent. Her breasts, swollen and heavy. Her cunt, still slick and open, the evidence of him leaking from her.
"Fuck," he said. "Look at you."
He pressed his palm flat against her stomach, and she felt the heat of his hand through the thin cotton of her skin. The pulse quickened under his touch, as if it could feel him too.
"It's growing," she said. "I can feel it growing."
He lowered his mouth to her belly, kissing the curve of it. His tongue dragged across her skin, tasting her, and she shuddered. Then he moved lower, settling between her thighs, and she felt his lips press against her slick entrance.
"What are you doing?"
"Feeding it." His voice was muffled against her. "Giving it more."
He lapped at her, slow and deliberate, collecting the cum that had leaked from her. She gasped as his tongue pushed inside her, and the sensation sent a new wave of heat through her belly. He licked her clean, then pressed his mouth to the swell of her abdomen again, as if sealing something in.
"Can you hear it?" she asked.
His ear flattened against her belly. She felt the faint flutter of movement inside her, a quickening that made her whole body clench.
"Yes." His voice was thick. "It's there. It's really there."
He crawled up her body, his weight careful now, supported on his forearms above her. His cock pressed against her opening, hard again, and she reached down to guide him.
"It wants you," she said. "It wants more."
He pushed inside her in one slow, deep stroke. The fullness of him against her growing belly made her cry out. He began to move, a rhythm that was different now, more deliberate, more reverent. Each thrust pressed against the curve of her, and she felt the warmth of him spreading inside her again.
When he came, she felt it fill her. The heat pulsed through her belly, and she swore she felt something shift, something stretch. He stayed buried inside her, his forehead against hers.
"Look," he said.
She looked down. Her belly had rounded further. The curve was unmistakable now, a firm, pregnant swell that strained against the empty space above her hips. Her breasts had grown again, heavier against her chest.
"It's working," he whispered. "It's really working."
She pressed her hand to his, covering it with hers, and felt the pulse beating beneath their palms. Stronger now. Faster.
"Kyle," she said. "Can you hear it?"
He closed his eyes, his ear against her belly, and she felt his smile against her skin.
"I can." His voice was reverent. "It's saying it wants more."