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Thorneycraft dropster By fishy9890 on 29th August 2021 04:01:47 AM

The Thorneycroft Inheritance by Dropster
Virginia Thorneycroft stood by the graveside willing the vicar to cut his remarks short. Her hand strayed again to her abdomen, straining hard and full beneath her impeccably cut black maternity suit. At the age of 35 the ambitious and successful merchant banker was expecting her first child, expecting very imminently in fact, as was clearly evident in the huge round projection of her tightly packed womb and the prominent stalk of her out-popped navel poking through her layers of clothing. At this stage of her surprise pregnancy every fidget of her fretful child dealt painful blows to her tummy walls and internal organs and standing for a prolonged period was acutely uncomfortable.
As the vicar droned on, Victoria was not alone in those sentiments for, quite apart from the usual boredom with a ceremony intended to honour an aged grandfather who none of the family could honestly say they had liked, Victoria was not the only mourner heavily swollen with child.
The Rev David Potter surveyed the graveside scene assessingly. He too found the parish vicar rather tiresome, although in fact the man was perhaps the only one present who genuinely mourned the passing of old Harold Thorneycroft. But David, like the others, was putting a respectful face on proceedings because at least he, like the three granddaughters, had the prospect of a spectacular inheritance.
It had been a devious and intricate plot, and David felt justly proud of its working out to date. That old Harold had ailed more quickly than he had hoped could not be helped, and even now David hoped that the death which had come, on the face of things, a few weeks too early might yet serve the purpose.
Having gained the old man’s confidence in the previous year, it had proven no great difficulty to persuade him to make the St Agatha Society of Fallen Angels his residual beneficiary, the problem was that the residual was after the very substantial bequests to his granddaughters. It was, however, a natural progression from the supposed subjects of his Charity, mothers of illegitimate children, to suggest to the old puritan that his granddaughters should be subject to a test of moral worthiness in order to inherit, and that test had boiled down to each of them not having a child out of wedlock.
Now none of the three, David was certain, would have contemplated doing any such thing. Virginia, the eldest, was a successful career woman believed to have no steady relationship; Cassandra was a noted sportswoman who was living with her female lover and Rebecca the youngest, artistic and shy, had been a virgin when the plan had been put afoot. Fortunately he was, as a man, provided with the necessary equipment to change matters to his advantage. He smiled at the exquisite irony, remembering the weekend nine months ago when the three granddaughters had been invited to Thorneycroft Hall to hear the new terms of their grandfather’s will. For on the very occasion they learnt the potentially expensive consequences of breeding, they were being pumped full of the Rev David’s fertile seed.
A small dose of a popular date rape drug in their evening night-caps on successive nights had made the task of mating with the sisters simple. A few bewildered headaches in the mornings soon wore off and none of them had the slightest suspicion as to their safety in the ancestral hall, particularly at the hands of the meek and self-effacing spiritual advisor to the their grandfather.
Fortunately that one weekend had been enough, a clean sweep, as all three discovered themselves to be in an unwelcome condition over the next few months. David smiled evilly as he imagined the successful banking executive desperately hiding her growing belly beneath cunningly cut blouses and pants with rubber bands inserted in the button holes to accommodate her swollen waist. Or the sportswoman wondering at the fluid retention around her midriff and the soreness of her breasts, bouncing unusually heavily within her suddenly extra-tight sports bras. Or the unbelieving young virgin staring at the reflection in the mirror of her thick, darkened nipples and puffy, rounded tummy.
He had certainly been able to view his handiwork with satisfaction over recent months as the sisters had paid their obligatory monthly visits to their grandfather, their increasingly loose and flowing clothes disguising as much as possible the healthy growth of the fetuses each carried.
Why had they not resorted to termination of such untimely pregnancies? David could not know for sure, but he had hoped that the completely unexpected nature of their conditions would carry them past the point of no return before awareness set in. But then perhaps none would wish to destroy their own child, however unfathomably conceived.
Nine months then, nine months for the old man to live before his granddaughters disqualified themselves from their inheritances. As he surveyed the graveside David could only conclude that it was still a damn close run thing. Victoria stood a little uncomfortably, the fall of her black suit jacket only emphasising from side-on the enormous protrusion of her abdomen, the black skivvy beneath drawn tight over full, maternal breasts and great, round belly under which the edge could be seen of the fully stretched elastic gusset of her maternity trousers. Her hand strayed constantly to her distended abdomen as if to soothe the unbearable tightness within. At the foot of the grave stood Rebecca, not yet nineteen, her once elfin features fleshed out and womanly, her long blond hair falling to the immense swelling of her tummy which stood out starkly on her otherwise slender form and so heavy now that her back was curved back to balance the burden, her hands clasped beneath her uterus as if to support the weight. But it was Cassandra who looked nearest to the brink of her labour. The tall, muscular 25 year old was wearing hip hugging black jeans riding very low beneath her fully ripened, low hanging belly, a loose untucked shirt and a long black coat which, although generously cut, could be fastened only at its topmost buttons, leaving it to bulge open across her straining mound. Her hands worked constantly at her taut flesh and at intervals she was seen to wince and shift her weight as if trying to relieve a gathering pressure within. Her companion, a pretty curvaceous girl a half head shorter, had a protective arm around her and David recalled how anxious she had seemed as Cassandra made her way in an awkward waddle, so unlike her accustomed confident stride, to the grave.
Three women close to their inheritance, but not quite there yet, the Rev Potter reminded himself. Three women at full term, he knew perhaps even better than they well just how full their terms, and much could happen in a day. It was said that night was a popular time for babies to push themselves from their mothers’ bodies.
Some time later, as dusk began to settle about the grey stone manor house Cassandra was bending awkwardly at the knees struggling to push her tight black jeans over the fullness of her bottom, grown a little plumper in recent weeks. That accomplished, with a gasp she straightened and pressed her knuckles into her sore, laden back. Anna looked up with concern etched in her pretty features. Her lover was very changed from the vigorous athletic beauty she had been first seduced by. Her strong bones and lean muscle were now softened by a layer of feminine plumpness, the sweet shapely breasts were now full and prominent with long, thick, tender teats but, more fundamentally, the swift forceful movement was gone, absorbed into the constant effort of bearing the burden of her hugely stretched uterus. Anna knew that if they were to have a child it should have been she, with her lush childbearing curves, to have borne it; Cassandra to be the strength to support her through the ordeal. As it was, Cassandra had fought against the very idea of her pregnancy from the first; refusing even to take the test until her lovely hard abs were quite visibly distending outwards from the growth of her fetus. It was Anna who had read voraciously about the changes of pregnancy and it was Anna who had noted the recent subtle drop in her love’s straining abdomen and the sudden awkwardness in her movements that she knew to be presages of the coming trauma.
“How are you feeling, Cass?” she asked anxiously. “Should you lie down for a bit do you think?”
“Don’t know,” grunted Cassandra. “It’s so heavy ... I feel better standing at the moment.”
“Any pains ...”?
“Just cramps from that damn ceremony going on so long ... OOOoohhhh!!”
Cassandra suddenly grimaced and her eyes went wide. She bent a little at the waist, one hand grabbing convulsively at the underside of her belly, the other reaching out for support.
In a moment Anna was by her side, slipping under the groping arm and helping her groaning and staggering friend towards the bed.
“What is it! ...l Cassie ...!” she cried in panic.
“OOOooohhh ... ” moaned the stricken girl again. Her knees were hobbled by the jeans still pooled around them but she made no move to sit on the bed as Anna had thought, instead turning and clinging to her friend, supporting herself as she bent a little at the waist, hunched over her huge, tight belly.
“OOOoohhhh!! ... “ she repeated, “OOOoohhhh!! ... Anna!! ... HHHooooo!!”
Anna clung desperately to her love, the great mound pressed against her feeling hard and stressed. Through Cassandra’s silken shirt she could feel strong ripples moving around it.
As she registered the flexing of the sheet of muscle stretched over her lover’s baby, however, that flexing seemed to subside and Cassandra, breathing hard, plumped heavily down on the bed, her face white and drawn.
In her own quiet room Virginia stood before the full length dressing mirror frowning at the heavily fecund image before her. She had always been careful of her appearance, the image of attractive but formal businesswoman was important to her career. Her hair was efficiently and expensively cut, falling around her face to just above the shoulders in a fashionable shade of brown, her face was rounder and more womanly but still capable and intelligent. But below, her boobs, always large enough to comfortably fill out the bodices of her business-wear, were now fattened and heavy, overfilling even her enlarged maternity brassiere, forcing the expensive lacy cups to sag under the weight and exposing creamy flesh suffused with thick blue veins in a deep cleavage. She rolled the soft clinging gusset of her maternity panties down and examined the damage done to her once trim figure. At the end of her term her abdomen was no longer smooth and spherical but slightly lumpish from the tightly packed form of the fetus within. Her ageing muscles had been unable to cope with the extremity of stretching needed to accommodate her full term uterus and a livid red stretch mark ran vertically down the centre of her outstretched belly. Virginia knew that at her age her body was unlikely to ever fully recover from the stretching it was now receiving.
She had been increasingly sidelined from the biggest decisions at the bank as her body had swollen ever more obviously and she had been forced into belly revealing maternity clothes. She knew that her co-executives looked at her and saw a breeding mother rather than a brain and she longed to push the invading fetus out and get back to her respected shape.
“But not yet, not just yet,” she murmured to the mirror, stroking the taut thin sheet of tummy muscle.
In answer her babe seemed to shift a little and a heavy, cramping ache spread through her pelvis, an ache which was coming with increasing frequency in recent days and accompanied by a sense of increasing pressure deep below.
“Too long standing,” she muttered to herself and, pulling her panties carefully up over the great overhang of her belly then tugging a long robe about her distended form as best she could, she waddled over to the bed and sank down on it with a sigh.
Rebecca found that a surprising effect of her pregnancy was her greatly enhanced appetites. Although dinner was not far away, she felt a craving for a meat paste sandwich and so headed for the pantry behind the back stairs.
Tom, full time student and part time gardener had just sat down to a mug of coffee in the pantry when he looked up to see a vision of fertile loveliness enter. Her long blond hair framed a heart shaped face lush with the glow of pregnancy, her black dress was in the empire style snug across the plump high apples of her breasts, draped demurely by her tresses, and waisted close beneath them in order to flow out over her gloriously swollen mound. Tom envied the lucky bastard who had been able to plant his seed in that fruitful plot.
“Uhh, hi,” he said, “I’m Tom. I garden,” he added after a moment.
“Hello Tom,” replied the vision, “I’m Rebecca.”
He already knew she must be one of the sisters, well bred in all senses, who were the talk of the staff.
“Uhh, can I get you something?” he blurted.
She paused, her right hand running lightly over the outer curve of her roundness, and how Tom longed to do that! Then she sat at the table with a tiny grunt of effort.
“Thanks. Do you know where the meat paste is?”
It took some investigation for Tom, under direction from the table, to assemble the ingredients and make the sandwich, all the time sneaking greedy glances when he could. Then he brought it to her and sat as close as to her as he dared.
When the sandwich was consumed they continued talking. Tom was drinking in her sweet young beauty, and Rebecca was very conscious of his eyes upon her. It reminded her of her other appetite. The one that sometimes kept her awake at night. She was very aware of her tender nipples pressing hard against the cups of her bra, and she felt a tension high between her thighs which she did not think to be caused by the baby.
Rebecca had been devastated to finally realise the cause of her increasing plumpness. She had friends who had lost their adolescent slenderness as they reached late teens and thought little of her missing periods and slowly thickening waist. It was only after her sisters had revealed their embarrassing predicaments to her that she began to wonder about the increasing number of clothes which were no longer comfortable. When the doctor counselled her that she was a bare four months away from becoming a mother she nearly fainted.
She had always been a little shy around men and had certainly never lain with any. Now she increasingly regretted that she had not had the experience of gifting her precious cherry in a loving mating. She was still in her mind a virgin and no man was likely to want her with a baby either in her belly or bawling in the cradle. Still she found herself responding to Tom.
She leant back, lifting her hands from where they rested on the flat platform of her belly and pulled her hair back over her shoulders. Tom drank in the way her raised arms stretched the fabric of her bodice over her ripe breasts, apples was doing them an injustice now he could see them properly. He longed to cup his hands over the firm gourds as he longed to caress that full round tummy.
She stood up to go, rising carefully because of her bulk. Tom stood quickly, close enough now to almost brush against her huge mounded abdomen. Rebecca found her breathing becoming heated, she longed to throw herself into his arms and giggled at the thought. Then suddenly she sucked a little breath in. That cramping between her thighs definitely was the baby! Just as suddenly she was in Tom’s strong arms and any discomfort in her uterus was far from her mind.
Late evening and the sisters were having a confab. Three women sitting with knees well apart to accommodate massive, taut bellies pressing down between their thighs as their babes settled low in their pelvic girdles in preparation for birth.
Cassandra was looking flushed and worried. She had had another incident after dinner and she was experiencing insistent pressure on her pelvic floor. She had her hands behind her on the bed for support and her back arched to give her tightening uterus as much room as possible.
“I’m going to see it out,” she was insisting. “Anna is a lawyer and she says that ... well tell them Anna.”
“It does depend on the wording of the will, but you haven’t ‘had’ a child until it’s born and the question is: when does the will say the test is applied.”
“As I recall,” contributed Virginia, frowning. “When grandfather read it out to us he said ‘at the time this will is read’ or something similar.”
“That’s how I remembered it too,” Cassandra continued. “Well the will is due to be read tomorrow and so we only have the next day to get through without producing our sprogs.” Anna looked worriedly at Cassandra but the mother-to-be remained defiant.
Don’t you think it’s all too coincidental,” interjected Rebecca. “I mean Cassie, no disrespect,” she smiled ruefully at her sister, “is pretty much on the way. I don’t know about you Ginnie but I’m certainly feeling like this baby is ready to come at any time,” Virginia grimaced in response and stroked her big belly a little more insistently. “I mean how likely is it that all three of us get knocked up by surprise and, judging by the fact we are all getting ready to birth at the same time, we must have all been nailed together. When were we all together nine months ago? Answer: here. Who stands to gain from our embarrassment? Answer: David Potter and his bloody charity. Who else was here nine months ago? I think we’ve been set up!”
“Raped and impregnated,” murmured Virginia. “The evil bastard.!”
“Yeah. Like I said,” concluded Cassandra. “We’ve got to hang on until tomorrow. Beat what he’s tried to do to us!”
Anna clung nervously but proudly to her woman and Cassandra was glad to be able to sag against her support. Deep within, her uterine muscles were tightening another notch.
As dawn broke, Virginia awoke from the deep sleep she had finally fallen into after some hours of discomfort from her aching back and the weightiness of her fetus. From the light she judged that it was yet early morning. Her body was telling her she needed the toilet and so, puffing with effort, she sleepily rose ot her feet. The urgency increased sharply when she reached a vertical position and with a sudden panic she realised that the intense cramping pain and the awful pressure was coming from her womb.
“HHhhoooooo! ... HHhhoooooo!” she gasped, and sat down quickly, her thighs involuntarily spread as wide as her nightdress would allow. She clutched anxiously at her belly which felt tense and hard.
“Not now little one,” she moaned. “Give mummy another day!” But there was no answer save the groan which was forced from between Virginia’s gritted teeth from the pain of her clenching uterus.
Cassandra had fared worse over the night, however, much of it spent propped up against the pillows, her legs stretched out on the bed wide apart. At regular intervals her face would crease with pain and she would begin to blow and pant as Anna urged her to do in a desperate effort to take pressure off her tightening womb. Still, as the sky began to lighten outside with the new day, she felt a sense of triumph that her child remained unborn, even if a small voice told her that the pressure building in her pelvis with every bout of contractions could not be denied forever. Even if the last few agonising pains had brought with them an urgent need to stretch herself wide and push.
As an athlete she was accustomed to pain and so had so far been able to suppress the urge to cry out as the searing pain gripped her swollen belly, but Anna could see what it cost her: her face and upper body flushed and streaked with sweat, and she put her arms about her beloved to soothe her.
“If the baby comes, it comes,” she crooned. “You and the baby are more important than a silly inheritance.”
Rebecca had risen early, her interrupted sleep only partly due to an increasing feeling of tightness in her abdomen, for her womanly parts were tense and agitated also by the constant memory of how it felt to have Tom’s arms around her, and her fantasies of where else Tom’s hands might go.
She went to her bottom drawer and pulled out her most sexy bra and panties. The bra, a flimsy lacy number, was no longer a comfortable fit, but fortunately stretched to almost accommodate her firm plump mounds. The skimpy panties clung embarrassingly tightly to her enlarged bottom but that at least kept them up given the lack of hip to lodge them on. She then pulled on a white stretch dress, which was called on to stretch very greatly over her hugely gravid body. She blushed as she got a glimpse of herself in the mirror, Her dress left little to the imagination, clinging to every slope and curve of her distended belly and clearly displaying both her distorted belly button and her thick, stiffened nipples.
Tom was in the back pantry, as they had arranged, and in a moment she was in his arms again.
“How are you,” he asked anxiously.
“No problems,” she assured him, suppressing a wince as she did so as a cramping ache started up in her belly.
Then his lips were on hers and his hands were caressing her, stroking the turgid, aching nipples thrusting firmly through her dress.
She gave a low moan at the intense feelings rolling through her body. In truth it was hard to separate the tension between her thighs caused by her hot arousal from the increased tightness she was suddenly feeling in her tummy. When she gasped and moaned again, however, Tom suddenly stepped back, his hands on her huge abdomen where he could feel taut ripples in the sheet of muscle clasping her babe.
“Rebecca, shouldn’t you get to a doctor?” He exclaimed worriedly.
“No,” She cried firmly. “It’s nothing, and anyway I’ve got to be here at the Hall today.”
“Why?” he asked, mystified.
And so she told him the story.
When Melissa Strongman arrived, the briefcase containing the Thorneycroft will under her arm, she was greeted by the oldest of the granddaughters, Virginia she recalled, looking elegant as usual, although far from unruffled. Ms Strongman was aware of the general terms of the will and so was immediately curious to note how pregnant, how very, very pregnant, the woman was. She wore a brown silk maternity blouse which moulded closely to the heavy swell of her breasts and the low-hanging bowl of her belly. Below a loose flowing black skirt was pressed down in front by her gravid womb. Her right hand was cupped protectively over her straining abdomen and rubbed distractedly at her massive mound in a manner Ms Strongman associated from her own pregnancies with that time when her uterus was tightening towards delivery. She thought that Virginia Thorneycroft would become a mother in a very short time, and she was interested to reflect that she was not aware of any recent wedding in the family.
“Thank god you’re here,” Virginia said. “We will hear the will in the front drawing room. We can start as soon as you are ready.”
Immediately there appeared beside her a slender man of slightly unctuous appearance. “No not at all!” he exclaimed. “I really must advise a postponement. One of the potential beneficiaries is really in no condition to attend a reading. Perhaps towards the end of the week?”
“Nonsense,” interjected Virginia robustly. “On the contrary, I and my sisters insist that the will be read with the least possible delay!”
I can see why you at least would say that, thought Melissa with a cynical glance at the huge belly nearly bursting out of Virginia’s shirt. “Perhaps you could take me to the beneficiary in question?”
“Absolutely!” gushed the man gleefully. Probably old Harold’s spiritual advisor and the representative of that improbable charity, Melissa thought, David Potter if she recalled correctly. “Just come this way and you can certainly judge for yourself.” He immediately set off for the stairs leaving the two women struggling in his wake.
Struggling indeed, thought Melissa, as they climbed the stairs, poor Virginia becoming red faced and huffing with the effort of levering her swollen abdomen up each step. Suddenly she sucked in a long sharp breath and stopped, both hands clutched below her womb. Melissa realised that Virginia was holding her breath, her face drawn and tense, looking for all the world as if she might squat down there on the stairs and begin to push her baby into the world.
Melissa reached out sympathetically to the other woman and was greeted with a look of angry resolve. “It’s nothing,” she hissed, “Just a cramp. I’m nearly full term,” she added, somewhat redundantly. If Melissa was any judge, the woman might well deliver in the next 24 hours. If she was to benefit from the will it had better be read today.
There was no doubt whatsoever regarding the condition of the woman, Melissa understood it to be the second sister, Cassandra, who lay propped up on the bed, knees up and splayed apart, her only garment a light sweatshirt which although rucked up above her very round belly, still clung tightly to her high, plump, heavy nippled breasts.
“HHHnnngggHH!,” she moaned urgently, twisting her hips uncomfortably, “OOOhhhhh Godddd!! ... Here it comes again ... OOhhhhooooowww!!”
A pretty girl, flushed and anxious, fussed at her side. With a furious look at the man who had led them in she tried to pull the sheets up to cover the labouring woman’s modesty, but in vain for with an agonised cry the poor woman lifted her feet up.
“AArrrrrrrggghhhh!! ... ” she grated, “Can’t stop!! ... Have to ... Hhff ... Hhff ... puuuuuuUUUUSHH ... HHHnnnggg!! ... HHHHHnnngggHH!!!” and, grasping her solid thighs behind her knees, she tugged them furiously back beside her enormous heaving belly and as wide apart as she possibly could, her strong, muscular legs flailing the air before the various onlookers.
“OOooohhhh! ... HHhaaaarrrrrrggh!! ... HHhaaaarrrrrrggh!! ...” she wailed despairingly “... Hurts! ... OOhhhhooooowww!! ... HHhhfffff!! ...HHhhfffff!! ... Oohhh!! ... someone help meeeee!! ...HHhhfffff!! ...HHhhfffff!! ...”
“You see,” said David Potter to Melissa, “there’s surely no question of reading the will at present.”
“Well,” she replied, with a doubtful glance at Virginia who was looking very uncomfortable, although whether at her sister’s distress or some urgency in her own swollen tummy Melissa was unable to guess, if Cassandra wishes to be present I suppose ...”??”Nooo!!!” hissed Cassandra from the bed panting in the aftermath of her contraction. The baby’s not out yet! Ginny make them get on with it! ... OOhhhhooooowww!! ... “ and any further comment was cut off by a scream of agony as another contraction wracked her tummy and she began to push uncontrollably. Sweat poured from her straining body and the assembled audience could see between her widely gaping thighs the tight, hairy lips begin to bulge outward and slide apart under the pressure of her child’s head.
“You heard Cassie!” exclaimed Virginia urgently, “There is not a moment to lose. The reading should begin in the front drawing room without delay!”
The pretty girl soothing her labouring friend looked up anxiously to Virginia. “The doctor’s coming,” she said, “I just don’t know...”
“The sooner we start the sooner we finish,” Virginia replied and began to shoo the assembled group from the room.
The front drawing room was a long gallery with a view of the extensive gardens and with a number of plush armchairs that were now gathered in a rough circle around a low table that had been placed for Ms Strongman to sit behind.
Virginia bent awkwardly and seated herself with a barely suppressed groan. She propped herself carefully against the cushions and braced for the fiery pain she felt building in her uterus, her hands clawing at the soft upholstered arms of the chair and perspiration starting at her brow.
Of a sudden a distant shriek echoed through the house. Virginia imagined her poor sister crowning her baby. She was very conscious of a large bony mass jamming deeper into her own pelvis.
Rebecca sat at the other end of the line of chairs beside a man Virginia couldn’t place, although he seemed familiar. Her face was flushed and Virginia looked quickly at her abdomen, boldly displayed in a tight white dress, but her youngest sister showed none of the worried tension she knew would be visible on her own face.
Between them sat retainers of old Harold who were in line for small bequests to recognise years of faithful service, and of course David Potter.
“We are gathered here to read the last will and testament of Harold James Alfred Thorneycroft,” Ms Strongman began.
“ ... being of sound mind and body and resolved that the fruits of such success as has been vouchsafed to me in this uncertain and and wicked world as a result not of undue merit but of the great grace of God and my own humble efforts ...”
As the reading droned on Virginia tensed her body and bit down hard on her knuckle. The pains were coming hard and regularly now, her tummy clenching each time to a sheet of tortured muscle. She told herself to keep her legs together, to resist the terrible pressure, but she could not, she could not! It felt like a cruel stony boulder was forcing itself through her pelvis. Her bones were creaking with the impossible stress: she was too small, and that was all that was keeping the baby inside! But the downward pressure, increasing all the time was pushing her legs apart under the loose skirt.
“ ... and to my housekeeper Patricia Nixon, in recognition of her long and selfless devotion ...”
Rebecca was looking anxiously across at her sister. Something was wrong. she could sense it. Ginny’s face was twisting with effort and she was making small uncomfortable squirming movements with her hips, her hand clutched at her tummy and then immediately clamped back down on the arm of the chair as if needing something to hold onto.
Rebecca reached over to take Tom’s hand for reassurance, and then she felt it: a sudden hot searing band across the widest part of her belly. She gasped and looked down at the source of the pain. Through the clinging fabric of her dress she could almost see the tightening of her tummy. A contraction, she thought in something of a panic. I’m having a contraction!
“ ... then the remainder of my estate is to be dealt with as follows.
“To my three granddaughters or to such of them as shall survive me and meet the conditions attached to this bequest hereinafter set forth in equal parts ...”
Rebecca was trying to make sense of the words, Virginia was far too far immersed in the terrible agony building in her pelvis to take the words in, but Tom understood immediately. So long as any one of the three sisters could contrive not to become a mother by the end of the reading of the will then David Potter would be cheated of the fruits of his evil plan!
He turned to say something to Rebecca and saw at once on her face that her time was upon her.
At that moment Virginia felt a hard, hard contraction grip her. Her child’s bony head was driven with brutal force into the hole in her pelvis and excruciating pain lanced through her body forcing an moan of distress from her lips.
“HHOOooooowww!! ...” she cried, “OOhhhh!! ... HHOoooohh!! ... AAuuurrrrghh!!! ...” and she felt her ligaments rip apart and the massive head of her babe begin to grind agonisingly downwards.
Immediately a new feeling overwhelmed her, the desperation of a woman whose delicate sensitive vaginal membranes are suddenly being stretched beyond endurance by her child’s full grown head: the desperate need to push and bring her terrible ordeal to an end.
Before the astonished eyes of those assembled to read the will, moaning with the pain and the need and the effort, she pushed herself forward to the edge of the chair and tugged up the long loose skirt exposing her widespread legs. Her eyes wide and straining, her lips apart, panting and emitting short urgent moans, she lifted herself up and hauled down her lacy maternity panties. Barely stretching them past her knees, she pooled them at her feet and then sank to the floor in a squat, tugging her thighs as far apart as possible. Caring nothing that she was baring her widely gaping, thickly furred vulva to the eyes of all, she gave a long, mighty push.
“HHHHnnnnnnnggggggggg!!! ...”
Rebecca cried out in dismay at the distress of her sister and lumbered awkwardly to her feet. Immediately she gave a wild keening cry of shock and pain. Her tummy convulsed on its overlarge burden.
“AAAaaeeeeeee!! ...” she howled, “HHoooooohhh!! ...HHoooooohhh!! ...” and, as she doubled up in pain clutching with both hands at the hard burning sheet of muscle holding her fetus, she felt liquid burst from her, drenching her panties, gushing down her thighs and splashing messily on the floor.
Tom leapt to her side, taking her in his arms. As she clung to him she looked into his eyes, white-faced and trembling. “I’ve done my bag of waters,” she said in a horrified whisper.
David Potter was also on his feet in an instant.
“The reading must stop!” he demanded. “These poor women need attention!”
Virginia could hardly register the statement. Her crisis was fully upon her as inch by inch she pushed big bony baby-head down her maidenly, little used vagina. With each groaning push her labia stretched wider and rounder.
Rebecca, however, recovering from her pain, moaned “Nnnooooo!! ... Tom, make them go on!”
“You must read on, Madam,” Tom said, addressing Ms Strongman but glaring at the Reverend Potter.
“I insist ...” the latter interjected.
Easing Rebecca’s great bulk back into the chair, Tom moved menacingly towards David Potter. “You! Keep your great gob shut!” he growled.
“OOOoowwwwww!! ...” moaned Virginia, “HHhuuffffffff!! ... HHhuuffffffff!! ... HHHHnnnnnnnggggggggg!!! ...”
From where Tom had moved to he could now see directly between the banker’s desperately widespread legs. Her gash was now huge and round and, as he watched, a big gooey head slid forward into her opening, snapping her labia into a thin taut ring, before her effort collapsed and the child slid back from view. He had never attended a birth before but there seemed precious minutes only if she were to receive her part of the inheritance.
Melissa Strongman was in a quandary. Her sympathies lay entirely with the women in the matter of the inheritance. One had, in all probability, probably already succumbed to her child’s need to be born, one would only inherit if the reading were quickly concluded, and the last would probably not outlast a
lengthy adjournment. On the other hand, the conditions were hardly conducive to a reading.
Virginia was desperately striving not to push. The pain was intense, the urgency extreme, but she knew she must give as much time as possible for her ageing cuntal tissues to stretch enough to accommodate the passage of a fully grown child.
“Hhhooooooohh!! ... Hhhooooooohh!! ... Hhhooooooohh!! ...” she panted, trying to relax and take pressure off her tummy. Seeking distraction, she looked wildly about, her eyes locking with the concerned gaze of the solicitor. Her clenched, red, sweat streaked face seemed to plead for help, and the only help the solicitor could give was to continue the reading.
She looked down, found her place.
“ ... in equal parts to the maximum sum of ten million to be divided between them or such of them who shall, at the time of the reading of this, my last will and ...”
Virginia could resist no more. A cruel, agonising contraction gripped her. Sobbing with pain and effort she scrabbled behind her to find purchase on the chair and raised herself off the floor, knees spread until they pointed in almost opposite directions, the effort reinforcing her clamping tummy muscles and propelling the body of her child like a battering ram towards the gate of her vulva.
“AAAAAIIiiiiiiieeeeeeee!! ...” she screamed in torment as the hard fist of her baby’s head thrust out of her vagina and stretched her opening beyond endurance. For a moment it stuck there, she felt a searing burning where her clitoral hood should be, then roughly it thrust out of her, bumpy nose and ears sending shards of pain ripping through her. Gasping for breath she looked down. There was a baby’s face poking out of her gaping sex and looking up at her.
“ ... any such residue as shall remain after the aforesaid distributions have been made in accordance with the clauses above ...” Melissa gabbled.
“OOooooohhh nnoooooo!!! ...” came a wail from Rebecca this time. “Tom it’s happening again!” She clutched at her belly. Her tight white dress was visibly soaked with the fluids of her womb and she tugged it up showing her sweet, lacy panties, drenched to transparency, through which her tight, pale haired slit could be clearly seen. How is the baby supposed to get through there, thought Tom anxiously.
“I protest!” interjected David Potter noting Tom’s attention diverted elsewhere, but Melissa ignored him.
“ ... shall be transferred to the organisation known as The St Agatha Society of Fallen Angels, or any successor organisation or organisations formed for the same ...”
But it was too late for Virginia.
“OOoooooohhhhhhhfffffff!!! ...” she groaned, the next contraction gripping her as she subsided into a deep squat, one hand underneath her to hold her babe’s head. With a slight squirm of the hips she freed its shoulders from her tortured vulva and it slithered from her like a fish, plopping onto the floor.
The door opened and Doctor Maguire bustled into the room. Having attended to Cassandra upstairs, he had been told of the crisis unfolding below. As he entered he could see a pretty young blonde sitting to one side, flushed and panting, her knees apart, and on the other a mature brunette slumped on hands and knees panting and blowing and with a baby on the floor between her thighs still slick with birth fluids and still attached to a thick, angry red cord curling out of her loosely gaping vulva.
In the face of this dramatic interruption Melissa had been unable to maintain the reading and now, as Doctor Maguire hastened to attend to the older sister, the younger cried out.
“Tom! Ohh Godd Tom ... it’s happening .. the baby ... it’s coming! OOoooohhh!! ... HHHhhuuufff!! ... HHHhhuuufff!! ... AAarggghhhhh!!! ...HHHhhuuufff!! ... HHHhhuuufff!! ... Tom! Help meeee!! ... panties ... got to get my panties off!”
Tom rushed to her side. He helped her tug the sodden dress up over her head. In any other situation his prick would have been rigid at the sight of her swollen, blue veined breasts overflowing her lacy bra cups, but below them her tummy was moving, standing up round and hard with the convulsive clench of her muscles. She moaned and raised her bottom from the chair, clutching at the waistband of her panties. Tom grabbed them and peeled them down, past her straining knees and off her ankles. With a sob of relief Rebecca jacknifed her legs wide and gave along groaning cry, which Tom recognised from her sister minutes before.
He turned towards the stunned solicitor. “Please,” he cried desperately, “You have to finish, we don’t have much time.
Rebecca threw her hands back, gripping the seat back behind her. She pulled up her legs onto the broad seat of the armchair.
“HHhhnnnnnnggghhh!! ... HHhuuuff!! ... HHhuuuff!! ...” she panted, riding the contractions as best she could.
“ ... and if no such organisation or organisations shall in the sole discretion of my executors be deemed to exist ...” Melissa soldiered on.
“Please. I don’t think this is the time ...” interrupted Doctor Maguire, efficiently bundling up Virginia’s baby in a soft blanket brought by one of the maids.
“Nooooooooo!! ..” wailed Rebecca, “OOOoooohhhh ... HHHhhuuufff!! ... HHHhhuuufff!! ... HHhhnnnnnnggghhh!! ...” At each contraction now her tummy was tightening awfully, she was trying to keep from pushing like the books said but she just couldn’t and she could feel the baby grinding lower and lower in her. I’m the only one left she thought. If I can’t hold out that bastard will get the lot!
Tom was desperate for Rebecca. He could see the straining effort on her face every time a contraction hit. He didn’t know anything about managing labour but, after Virginia’s example he thought he could recognise its final stages well enough.
“You don’t understand,” he said frantically to the doctor. Turning to the solicitor: “You have to finish, you have to!”
The solicitor was looking very stressed. Tom thought that she might not be far from abandoning the place. Maybe one last chance.
“ ... then my said executors may at their sole discretion dispose of any such residue as hereinbefore defined to the benefit of any charity or charities whose purpose ...”
Doctor Maguire moved over to the labouring Rebecca. He thrust two fingers into her tight vagina and was startled to immediately find the hard plate of her child’s head coming the other way.
“... HHHuuuuhhh ... HHhhnnnnnnggghhh!! ...” she panted, the sudden invasion of the doctor’s fingers disrupting her control and causing her to give the hardest push yet. Her belly stood up, tightly defined and drawn as hard as a drum. With a panic she felt the babe shoved definitely lower.
“HHoooooowwwww!! ...” she wailed harshly. Unbeknown to the desperate teenager, the head of her fetus had cleared her pelvis and was suddenly stretching her slender, barely used vagina unimaginably.
“ ... in witness hereof.”
The intoning voice of the solicitor came to a stop. After a moment Tom looked up. She was tidying the papers. That was it! Rebecca had won! He turned back in triumph.
“You’ve done it Rebecca!” he crowed. Doctor Maguire looked at him strangely, but Rebecca grinned in triumph, a grin which never left her face in the last urgent, huffing, draining ten minutes it took to squeeze her baby into the world.
Four weeks later three sisters met for morning coffee. Their own needs met each then turned to her recently born babe, opened her shirt and freed a milk laden breast from her nursing bra.
“You know you really didn’t have to do it, Becky,” said Cassandra, as she lifted her plump, greedy son high to where her overfilled breast stood tautly out, thickly knotted with purple veins, the pink, quivering teat already forming droplets of thin white milk. “If anyone should have had the muscle control to earn a share of the money it should have been me!”
Rebecca already had her little daughter sipping daintily at her enlarged, and somewhat drooping boob, the lazy action of her gums on her mother’s stiffly extended nipple stalk sending little thrills down Rebecca’s spine.
“Oh, I was always going to share with you. We were in this together. you would have done the same for me, you know you would!”
Virginia was bent a little forward, her fast growing boy in her lap, her heavy, mature, down pointing udder stretching to where its thick, maternal nipple was engulfed by his tiny mouth. She felt nourishment gushing from her ducts and knew from the tingling in her other nipple that within her generously cut blouse, the baby feeder still imprisoned in her industrial strength brassiere would be starting to drench her nipple pads.
“Well I’m going to put my share into a trust for little Sarah,” she said fondly. “After all we owe it all to her impeccable sense of timing!” The sisters laughed, the jiggling of their mammary glands slightly increasing the flow of sustenance to three tiny grateful gulping throats.?

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The Thorneycroft Inheritance			by Dropster

Virginia Thorneycroft stood by the graveside willing the vicar to cut his remarks short. Her hand strayed again to her abdomen, straining hard and full beneath her impeccably cut black maternity suit. At the age of 35 the ambitious and successful merchant banker was expecting her first child, expecting very imminently in fact, as was clearly evident in the huge round projection of her tightly packed womb and the prominent stalk of her out-popped navel poking through her layers of clothing. At this stage of her surprise pregnancy every fidget of her fretful child dealt painful blows to her tummy walls and internal organs and standing for a prolonged period was acutely uncomfortable.

As the vicar droned on, Victoria was not alone in those sentiments for, quite apart from the usual boredom with a ceremony intended to honour an aged grandfather who none of the family could honestly say they had liked, Victoria was not the only mourner heavily swollen with child.

The Rev David Potter surveyed the graveside scene assessingly. He too found the parish vicar rather tiresome, although in fact the man was perhaps the only one present who genuinely mourned the passing of old Harold Thorneycroft. But David, like the others, was putting a respectful face on proceedings because at least he, like the three granddaughters, had the prospect of a spectacular inheritance.

It had been a devious and intricate plot, and David felt justly proud of its working out to date. That old Harold had ailed more quickly than he had hoped could not be helped, and even now David hoped that the death which had come, on the face of things, a few weeks too early might yet serve the purpose.

Having gained the old man’s confidence in the previous year, it had proven no great difficulty to persuade him to make the St Agatha Society of Fallen Angels his residual beneficiary, the problem was that the residual was after the very substantial bequests to his granddaughters. It was, however, a natural progression from the supposed subjects of his Charity, mothers of illegitimate children, to suggest to the old puritan that his granddaughters should be subject to a test of moral worthiness in order to inherit, and that test had boiled down to each of them not having a child out of wedlock.

Now none of the three, David was certain, would have contemplated doing any such thing. Virginia, the eldest, was a successful career woman believed to have no steady relationship; Cassandra was a noted sportswoman who was living with her female lover and Rebecca the youngest, artistic and shy, had been a virgin when the plan had been put afoot. Fortunately he was, as a man, provided with the necessary equipment to change matters to his advantage. He smiled at the exquisite irony, remembering the weekend nine months ago when the three granddaughters had been invited to Thorneycroft Hall to hear the new terms of their grandfather’s will. For on the very occasion they learnt the potentially expensive consequences of breeding, they were being pumped full of the Rev David’s fertile seed.

A small dose of a popular date rape drug in their evening night-caps on successive nights had made the task of mating with the sisters simple. A few bewildered headaches in the mornings soon wore off and none of them had the slightest suspicion as to their safety in the ancestral hall, particularly at the hands of the meek and self-effacing spiritual advisor to the their grandfather.

Fortunately that one weekend had been enough, a clean sweep, as all three discovered themselves to be in an unwelcome condition over the next few months. David smiled evilly as he imagined the successful banking executive desperately hiding her growing belly beneath cunningly cut blouses and pants with rubber bands inserted in the button holes to accommodate her swollen waist. Or the sportswoman wondering at the fluid retention around her midriff and the soreness of her breasts, bouncing unusually heavily within her suddenly extra-tight sports bras. Or the unbelieving young virgin staring at the reflection in the mirror of her thick, darkened nipples and puffy, rounded tummy.

He had certainly been able to view his handiwork with satisfaction over recent months as the sisters had paid their obligatory monthly visits to their grandfather, their increasingly loose and flowing clothes disguising as much as possible the healthy growth of the fetuses each carried.

Why had they not resorted to termination of such untimely pregnancies? David could not know for sure, but he had hoped that the completely unexpected nature of their conditions would carry them past the point of no return before awareness set in. But then perhaps none would wish to destroy their own child, however unfathomably conceived.

Nine months then, nine months for the old man to live before his granddaughters disqualified themselves from their inheritances. As he surveyed the graveside David could only conclude that it was still a damn close run thing. Victoria stood a little uncomfortably, the fall of her black suit jacket only emphasising from side-on the enormous protrusion of her abdomen, the black skivvy beneath drawn tight over full, maternal breasts and great, round belly under which the edge could be seen of the fully stretched elastic gusset of her maternity trousers. Her hand strayed constantly to her distended abdomen as if to soothe the unbearable tightness within. At the foot of the grave stood Rebecca, not yet nineteen, her once elfin features fleshed out and womanly, her long blond hair falling to the immense swelling of her tummy which stood out starkly on her otherwise slender form and so heavy now that her back was curved back to balance the burden, her hands clasped beneath her uterus as if to support the weight. But it was Cassandra who looked nearest to the brink of her labour. The tall, muscular 25 year old was wearing hip hugging black jeans riding very low beneath her fully ripened, low hanging belly, a loose untucked shirt and a long black coat which, although generously cut, could be fastened only at its topmost buttons, leaving it to bulge open across her straining mound. Her hands worked constantly at her taut flesh and at intervals she was seen to wince and shift her weight as if trying to relieve a gathering pressure within. Her companion, a pretty curvaceous girl a half head shorter, had a protective arm around her and David recalled how anxious she had seemed as Cassandra made her way in an awkward waddle, so unlike her accustomed confident stride, to the grave.

Three women close to their inheritance, but not quite there yet, the Rev Potter reminded himself. Three women at full term, he knew perhaps even better than they well just how full their terms, and much could happen in a day. It was said that night was a popular time for babies to push themselves from their mothers’ bodies.

Some time later, as dusk began to settle about the grey stone manor house Cassandra was bending awkwardly at the knees struggling to push her tight black jeans over the fullness of her bottom, grown a little plumper in recent weeks. That accomplished, with a gasp she straightened and pressed her knuckles into her sore, laden back. Anna looked up with concern etched in her pretty features. Her lover was very changed from the vigorous athletic beauty she had been first seduced by. Her strong bones and lean muscle were now softened by a layer of feminine plumpness, the sweet shapely breasts were now full and prominent with long, thick, tender teats but, more fundamentally, the swift forceful movement was gone, absorbed into the constant effort of bearing the burden of her hugely stretched uterus. Anna knew that if they were to have a child it should have been she, with her lush childbearing curves, to have borne it; Cassandra to be the strength to support her through the ordeal. As it was, Cassandra had fought against the very idea of her pregnancy from the first; refusing even to take the test until her lovely hard abs were quite visibly distending outwards from the growth of her fetus. It was Anna who had read voraciously about the changes of pregnancy and it was Anna who had noted the recent subtle drop in her love’s straining abdomen and the sudden awkwardness in her movements that she knew to be presages of the coming trauma.

“How are you feeling, Cass?” she asked anxiously. “Should you lie down for a bit do you think?”

“Don’t know,” grunted Cassandra. “It’s so heavy ... I feel better standing at the moment.”

“Any pains ...”?
“Just cramps from that damn ceremony going on so long ... OOOoohhhh!!”

Cassandra suddenly grimaced and her eyes went wide. She bent a little at the waist, one hand grabbing convulsively at the underside of her belly, the other reaching out for support.

In a moment Anna was by her side, slipping under the groping arm and helping her groaning and staggering friend towards the bed.

“What is it! ...l Cassie ...!” she cried in panic.

“OOOooohhh ... ” moaned the stricken girl again. Her knees were hobbled by the jeans still pooled around them but she made no move to sit on the bed as Anna had thought, instead turning and clinging to her friend, supporting herself as she bent a little at the waist, hunched over her huge, tight belly.

“OOOoohhhh!! ... “ she repeated, “OOOoohhhh!! ... Anna!! ... HHHooooo!!”

Anna clung desperately to her love, the great mound pressed against her feeling hard and stressed. Through Cassandra’s silken shirt she could feel strong ripples moving around it.

As she registered the flexing of the sheet of muscle stretched over her  lover’s baby, however, that flexing seemed to subside and Cassandra, breathing hard, plumped heavily down on the bed, her face white and drawn.

In her own quiet room Virginia stood before the full length dressing mirror frowning at the heavily fecund image before her. She had always been careful of her appearance, the image of attractive but formal businesswoman was important to her career. Her hair was efficiently and expensively cut, falling around her face to just above the shoulders in a fashionable shade of brown, her face was rounder and more womanly but still capable and intelligent. But below, her boobs, always large enough to comfortably fill out the bodices of her business-wear, were now fattened and heavy, overfilling even her enlarged maternity brassiere, forcing the expensive lacy cups to sag under the weight and exposing creamy flesh suffused with thick blue veins in a deep cleavage. She rolled the soft clinging gusset of her maternity panties down and examined the damage done to her once trim figure. At the end of her term her abdomen was no longer smooth and spherical but slightly lumpish from the tightly packed form of the fetus within. Her ageing muscles had been unable to cope with the extremity of stretching needed to accommodate her full term uterus and a livid red stretch mark ran vertically down the centre of her outstretched belly. Virginia knew that at her age her body was unlikely to ever fully recover from the stretching it was now receiving.

She had been increasingly sidelined from the biggest decisions at the bank as her body had swollen ever more obviously and she had been forced into belly revealing maternity clothes. She knew that her co-executives looked at her and saw a breeding mother rather than a brain and she longed to push the invading fetus out and get back to her respected shape.

“But not yet, not just yet,” she murmured to the mirror, stroking the taut thin sheet of tummy muscle.

In answer her babe seemed to shift a little and a heavy, cramping ache spread through her pelvis, an ache which was coming with increasing frequency in recent days and accompanied by a sense of increasing pressure deep below.

“Too long standing,” she muttered to herself and, pulling her panties carefully up over the great overhang of her belly then tugging a long robe about her distended form as best she could, she waddled over to the bed and sank down on it with a sigh.

Rebecca found that a surprising effect of her pregnancy was her greatly enhanced appetites. Although dinner was not far away, she felt a craving for a meat paste sandwich and so headed for the pantry behind the back stairs.

Tom, full time student and part time gardener had just sat down to a mug of coffee in the pantry when he looked up to see a vision of fertile loveliness enter. Her long blond hair framed a heart shaped face lush with the glow of pregnancy, her black dress was in the empire style snug across the plump high apples of her breasts, draped demurely by her tresses, and waisted close beneath them in order to flow out over her gloriously swollen mound. Tom envied the lucky bastard who had been able to plant his seed in that fruitful plot.

“Uhh, hi,” he said, “I’m Tom. I garden,” he added after a moment.

“Hello Tom,” replied the vision, “I’m Rebecca.”

He already knew she must be one of the sisters, well bred in all senses, who were the talk of the staff.

“Uhh, can I get you something?” he blurted.

She paused, her right hand running lightly over the outer curve of her roundness, and how Tom longed to do that! Then she sat at the table with a tiny grunt of effort.

“Thanks. Do you know where the meat paste is?”

It took some investigation for Tom, under direction from the table, to assemble the ingredients and make the sandwich, all the time sneaking greedy glances when he could. Then he brought it to her and sat as close as to her as he dared.

When the sandwich was consumed they continued talking. Tom was drinking in her sweet young beauty, and Rebecca was very conscious of his eyes upon her. It reminded her of her other appetite. The one that sometimes kept her awake at night. She was very aware of her tender nipples pressing hard against the cups of her bra, and she felt a tension high between her thighs which she did not think to be caused by the baby.

Rebecca had been devastated to finally realise the cause of her increasing plumpness. She had friends who had lost their adolescent slenderness as they reached late teens and thought little of her missing periods and slowly thickening waist. It was only after her sisters had revealed their embarrassing predicaments to her that she began to wonder about the increasing number of clothes which were no longer comfortable. When the doctor counselled her that she was a bare four months away from becoming a mother she nearly fainted.

She had always been a little shy around men and had certainly never lain with any. Now she increasingly regretted that she had not had the experience of gifting her precious cherry in a loving mating. She was still in her mind a virgin and no man was likely to want her with a baby either in her belly or bawling in the cradle. Still she found herself responding to Tom.

She leant back, lifting her hands from where they rested on the flat platform of her belly and pulled her hair back over her shoulders. Tom drank in the way her raised arms stretched the fabric of her bodice over her ripe breasts, apples was doing them an injustice now he could see them properly. He longed to cup his hands over the firm gourds as he longed to caress that full round tummy.

She stood up to go, rising carefully because of her bulk. Tom stood quickly, close enough now to almost brush against her huge mounded abdomen. Rebecca found her breathing becoming heated, she longed to throw herself into his arms and giggled at the thought. Then suddenly she sucked a little breath in. That cramping between her thighs definitely was the baby! Just as suddenly she was in Tom’s strong arms and any discomfort in her uterus was far from her mind.

Late evening and the sisters were having a confab. Three women sitting with knees well apart to accommodate massive, taut bellies pressing down between their thighs as their babes settled low in their pelvic girdles in preparation for birth.

Cassandra was looking flushed and worried. She had had another incident after dinner and she was experiencing insistent pressure on her pelvic floor. She had her hands behind her on the bed for support and her back arched to give her tightening uterus as much room as possible.

“I’m going to see it out,” she was insisting. “Anna is a lawyer and she says that ... well tell them Anna.”

“It does depend on the wording of the will, but you haven’t ‘had’ a child until it’s born and the question is: when does the will say the test is applied.”

“As I recall,” contributed Virginia, frowning. “When grandfather read it out to us he said ‘at the time this will is read’ or something similar.”

“That’s how I remembered it too,” Cassandra continued. “Well the will is due to be read tomorrow and so we only have the next day to get through without producing our sprogs.” Anna looked worriedly at Cassandra but the mother-to-be remained defiant.

Don’t you think it’s all too coincidental,” interjected Rebecca. “I mean Cassie, no disrespect,” she smiled ruefully at her sister, “is pretty much on the way. I don’t know about you Ginnie but I’m certainly feeling like this baby is ready to come at any time,” Virginia grimaced in response and stroked her big belly a little more insistently. “I mean how likely is it that all three of us get knocked up by surprise and, judging by the fact we are all getting ready to birth at the same time, we must have all been nailed together. When were we all together nine months ago? Answer: here. Who stands to gain from our embarrassment? Answer: David Potter and his bloody charity. Who else was here nine months ago? I think we’ve been set up!”

“Raped and impregnated,” murmured Virginia. “The evil bastard.!”

“Yeah. Like I said,” concluded Cassandra. “We’ve got to hang on until tomorrow. Beat what he’s tried to do to us!”

Anna clung nervously but proudly to her woman and Cassandra was glad to be able to sag against her support. Deep within, her uterine muscles were tightening another notch.

As dawn broke, Virginia awoke from the deep sleep she had finally fallen into after some hours of discomfort from her aching back and the weightiness of her fetus. From the light she judged that it was yet early morning. Her body was telling her she needed the toilet and so, puffing with effort, she sleepily rose ot her feet. The urgency increased sharply when she reached a vertical position and with a sudden panic she realised that the intense cramping pain and the awful pressure was coming from her womb.

“HHhhoooooo! ... HHhhoooooo!” she gasped, and sat down quickly, her thighs involuntarily spread as wide as her nightdress would allow. She clutched anxiously at her belly which felt tense and hard.

“Not now little one,” she moaned. “Give mummy another day!” But there was no answer save the groan which was forced from between Virginia’s gritted teeth from the pain of her clenching uterus.

Cassandra had fared worse over the night, however, much of it spent propped up against the pillows, her legs stretched out on the bed wide apart. At regular intervals her face would crease with pain and she would begin to blow and pant as Anna urged her to do in a desperate effort to take pressure off her tightening womb. Still, as the sky began to lighten outside with the new day, she felt a sense of triumph that her child remained unborn, even if a small voice told her that the pressure building in her pelvis with every bout of contractions could not be denied forever. Even if the last few agonising pains had brought with them an urgent need to stretch herself wide and push.

As an athlete she was accustomed to pain and so had so far been able to suppress the urge to cry out as the searing pain gripped her swollen belly, but Anna could see what it cost her: her face and upper body flushed and streaked with sweat, and she put her arms about her beloved to soothe her.

“If the baby comes, it comes,” she crooned. “You and the baby are more important than a silly inheritance.”

Rebecca had risen early, her interrupted sleep only partly due to an increasing feeling of tightness in her abdomen, for her womanly parts were tense and agitated also by the constant memory of how it felt to have Tom’s arms around her, and her fantasies of where else Tom’s hands might go.

She went to her bottom drawer and pulled out her most sexy bra and panties. The bra, a flimsy lacy number, was no longer a comfortable fit, but fortunately stretched to almost accommodate her firm plump mounds. The skimpy panties clung embarrassingly tightly to her enlarged bottom but that at least kept them up given the lack of hip to lodge them on. She then pulled on a white stretch dress, which was called on to stretch very greatly over her hugely gravid body. She blushed as she got a glimpse of herself in the mirror, Her dress left little to the imagination, clinging to every slope and curve of her distended belly and clearly displaying both her distorted belly button and her thick, stiffened nipples.

Tom was in the back pantry, as they had arranged, and in a moment she was in his arms again.

“How are you,” he asked anxiously.

“No problems,” she assured him, suppressing a wince as she did so as a cramping ache started up in her belly.

Then his lips were on hers and his hands were caressing her, stroking the turgid, aching nipples thrusting firmly through her dress.

She gave a low moan at the intense feelings rolling through her body. In truth it was hard to separate the tension between her thighs caused by her hot arousal from the increased tightness she was suddenly feeling in her tummy. When she gasped and moaned again, however, Tom suddenly stepped back, his hands on her huge abdomen where he could feel taut ripples in the sheet of muscle clasping her babe.

“Rebecca, shouldn’t you get to a doctor?” He exclaimed worriedly.

“No,” She cried firmly. “It’s nothing, and anyway I’ve got to be here at the Hall today.”

“Why?” he asked, mystified.

And so she told him the story.

When Melissa Strongman arrived, the briefcase containing the Thorneycroft will under her arm, she was greeted by the oldest of the granddaughters, Virginia she recalled, looking elegant as usual, although far from unruffled. Ms Strongman was aware of the general terms of the will and so was immediately curious to note how pregnant, how very, very pregnant, the woman was. She wore a brown silk maternity blouse which moulded closely to the heavy swell of her breasts and the low-hanging bowl of her belly. Below a loose flowing black skirt was pressed down in front by her gravid womb. Her  right hand was cupped protectively over her straining abdomen and rubbed distractedly at her massive mound in a manner Ms Strongman associated from her own pregnancies with that time when her uterus was tightening towards delivery. She thought that Virginia Thorneycroft would become a mother in a very short time, and she was interested to reflect that she was not aware of any recent wedding in the family.

“Thank god you’re here,” Virginia said. “We will hear the  will in the front drawing room. We can start as soon as you are ready.”

Immediately there appeared beside her a slender man of slightly unctuous appearance. “No not at all!” he exclaimed. “I really must advise a postponement. One of the potential beneficiaries is really in no condition to attend a reading. Perhaps towards the end of the week?”

“Nonsense,” interjected Virginia robustly. “On the contrary, I and my sisters insist that the will be read with the least possible delay!”

I can see why you at least would say that, thought Melissa with a cynical glance at the huge belly nearly bursting out of Virginia’s shirt. “Perhaps you could take me to the beneficiary in question?”

“Absolutely!” gushed the man gleefully. Probably old Harold’s spiritual advisor and the representative of that improbable charity, Melissa thought, David Potter if she recalled correctly. “Just come this way and you can certainly judge for yourself.” He immediately set off for the stairs leaving the two women struggling in his wake.

Struggling indeed, thought Melissa, as they climbed the stairs, poor Virginia becoming red faced and huffing with the effort of levering her swollen abdomen up each step. Suddenly she sucked in a long sharp breath and stopped, both hands clutched below her womb. Melissa realised that Virginia was holding her breath, her face drawn and tense, looking for all the world as if she might squat down there on the stairs and begin to push her baby into the world.

Melissa reached out sympathetically to the other woman and was greeted with a look of angry resolve. “It’s nothing,” she hissed, “Just a cramp. I’m nearly full term,” she added, somewhat redundantly. If Melissa was any judge, the woman might well deliver in the next 24 hours. If she was to benefit from the will it had better be read today.

There was no doubt whatsoever regarding the condition of the woman, Melissa understood it to be the second sister, Cassandra, who lay propped up on the bed, knees up and splayed apart, her only garment a light sweatshirt which although rucked up above her very round belly, still clung tightly to her high, plump, heavy nippled breasts.

“HHHnnngggHH!,” she moaned urgently, twisting her hips uncomfortably, “OOOhhhhh Godddd!! ... Here it comes again ...  OOhhhhooooowww!!”

A pretty girl, flushed and anxious, fussed at her side. With a furious look at the man who had led them in she tried to pull the sheets up to cover the labouring woman’s modesty, but in vain for with an agonised cry the poor woman lifted her feet up.

“AArrrrrrrggghhhh!! ... ” she grated, “Can’t stop!! ... Have to ... Hhff ... Hhff ... puuuuuuUUUUSHH ... HHHnnnggg!! ... HHHHHnnngggHH!!!” and, grasping her solid thighs behind her knees, she tugged them furiously back beside her enormous heaving belly and as wide apart as she possibly could, her strong, muscular legs flailing the air before the various onlookers.

“OOooohhhh! ... HHhaaaarrrrrrggh!! ... HHhaaaarrrrrrggh!! ...” she wailed despairingly “... Hurts! ... OOhhhhooooowww!! ... HHhhfffff!! ...HHhhfffff!! ... Oohhh!! ... someone help meeeee!! ...HHhhfffff!! ...HHhhfffff!! ...”

“You see,” said David Potter to Melissa, “there’s surely no question of reading the will at present.”

“Well,” she replied, with a doubtful glance at Virginia who was looking very uncomfortable, although whether at her sister’s distress or some urgency in her own swollen tummy Melissa was unable to guess, if Cassandra wishes to be present I suppose ...”??”Nooo!!!” hissed Cassandra from the bed panting in the aftermath of her contraction. The baby’s not out yet! Ginny make them get on with it! ... OOhhhhooooowww!! ... “ and any further comment was cut off by a scream of agony as another contraction wracked her tummy and she began to push uncontrollably. Sweat poured from her straining body and the assembled audience could see between her widely gaping thighs the tight, hairy lips begin to bulge outward and slide apart under the pressure of her child’s head.

“You heard Cassie!” exclaimed Virginia urgently, “There is not a moment to lose. The reading should begin in the front drawing room without delay!”

The pretty girl soothing her labouring friend looked up anxiously to Virginia. “The doctor’s coming,” she said, “I just don’t know...”

“The sooner we start the sooner we finish,” Virginia replied and began to shoo the assembled group from the room.

The front drawing room was a long gallery with a view of the extensive gardens and with a number of plush armchairs that were now gathered in a rough circle around a low table that had been placed for Ms Strongman to sit behind.

Virginia bent awkwardly and seated herself with a barely suppressed groan. She propped herself carefully against the cushions and braced for the fiery pain she felt building in her uterus, her hands clawing at the soft upholstered arms of the chair and perspiration starting at her brow.

Of a sudden a distant shriek echoed through the house. Virginia imagined her poor sister crowning her baby. She was very conscious of a large bony mass jamming deeper into her own pelvis.

Rebecca sat at the other end of the line of chairs beside a man Virginia couldn’t place, although he seemed familiar. Her face was flushed and Virginia looked quickly at her abdomen, boldly displayed in a tight white dress, but her youngest sister showed none of the worried tension she knew would be visible on her own face.

Between them sat retainers of old Harold who were in line for small bequests to recognise years of faithful service, and of course David Potter.

“We are gathered here to read the last will and testament of Harold James Alfred Thorneycroft,” Ms Strongman began.

“ ... being of sound mind and body and resolved that the fruits of such success as has been vouchsafed to me in this uncertain and and wicked world as a result not of undue merit but of the great grace of God and my own humble efforts ...”

As the reading droned on Virginia tensed her body and bit down hard on her knuckle. The pains were coming hard and regularly now, her tummy clenching each time to a sheet of tortured muscle. She told herself to keep her legs together, to resist the terrible pressure, but she could not, she could not! It felt like a cruel stony boulder was forcing itself through her pelvis. Her bones were creaking with the impossible stress: she was too small, and that was all that was keeping the baby inside! But the downward pressure, increasing all the time was pushing her legs apart under the loose skirt.

“ ... and to my housekeeper Patricia Nixon, in recognition of her long and selfless devotion ...”

Rebecca was looking anxiously across at her sister. Something was wrong. she could sense it. Ginny’s face was twisting with effort and she was making small uncomfortable squirming movements with her hips, her hand clutched at her tummy and then immediately clamped back down on the arm of the chair as if needing something to hold onto.

Rebecca reached over to take Tom’s hand for reassurance, and then she felt it: a sudden hot searing band across the widest part of her belly. She gasped and looked down at the source of the pain. Through the clinging fabric of her dress she could almost see the tightening of her tummy. A contraction, she thought in something of a panic. I’m having a contraction!

“ ... then the remainder of my estate is to be dealt with as follows.

“To my three granddaughters or to such of them as shall survive me and meet the conditions attached to this bequest hereinafter set forth in equal parts ...”

Rebecca was trying to make sense of the words, Virginia was far too far immersed in the terrible agony building in her pelvis to take the words in, but Tom understood immediately. So long as any one of the three sisters could contrive not to become a mother by the end of the reading of the will then David Potter would be cheated of the fruits of his evil plan!

He turned to say something to Rebecca and saw at once on her face that her time was upon her.

At that moment Virginia felt a hard, hard contraction grip her. Her child’s bony head was driven with brutal force into the hole in her pelvis and excruciating pain lanced through her body forcing an moan of distress from her lips.

“HHOOooooowww!! ...” she cried, “OOhhhh!! ... HHOoooohh!! ... AAuuurrrrghh!!! ...” and she felt her ligaments rip apart and the massive head of her babe begin to grind agonisingly downwards.

Immediately a new feeling overwhelmed her, the desperation of a woman whose delicate sensitive vaginal membranes are suddenly being stretched beyond endurance by her child’s full grown head: the desperate need to push and bring her terrible ordeal to an end.

Before the astonished eyes of those assembled to read the will, moaning with the pain and the need and the effort, she pushed herself forward to the edge of the chair and tugged up the long loose skirt exposing her widespread legs. Her eyes wide and straining, her lips apart, panting and emitting short urgent moans, she lifted herself up and hauled down her lacy maternity panties. Barely stretching them past her knees, she pooled them at her feet and then sank to the floor in a squat, tugging her thighs as far apart as possible. Caring nothing that she was baring her widely gaping, thickly furred vulva to the eyes of all, she gave a long, mighty push.

“HHHHnnnnnnnggggggggg!!! ...”

Rebecca cried out in dismay at the distress of her sister and lumbered awkwardly to her feet. Immediately she gave a wild keening cry of shock and pain. Her tummy convulsed on its overlarge burden.

“AAAaaeeeeeee!! ...” she howled, “HHoooooohhh!! ...HHoooooohhh!! ...” and, as she doubled up in pain clutching with both hands at the hard burning sheet of muscle holding her fetus, she felt liquid burst from her, drenching her panties, gushing down her thighs and splashing messily on the floor.

Tom leapt to her side, taking her in his arms. As she clung to him she looked into his eyes, white-faced and trembling. “I’ve done my bag of waters,” she said in a horrified whisper.

David Potter was also on his feet in an instant.

“The reading must stop!” he demanded. “These poor women need attention!”

Virginia could hardly register the statement. Her crisis was fully upon her as inch by inch she pushed big bony baby-head down her maidenly, little used vagina. With each groaning push her labia stretched wider and rounder.

Rebecca, however, recovering from her pain, moaned “Nnnooooo!! ... Tom, make them go on!”

“You must read on, Madam,” Tom said, addressing Ms Strongman but glaring at the Reverend Potter.

“I insist ...” the latter interjected.

Easing Rebecca’s great bulk back into the chair, Tom moved menacingly towards David Potter. “You! Keep your great gob shut!” he growled.

“OOOoowwwwww!! ...” moaned Virginia, “HHhuuffffffff!! ... HHhuuffffffff!! ... HHHHnnnnnnnggggggggg!!! ...”

From where Tom had moved to he could now see directly between the banker’s desperately widespread legs. Her gash was now huge and round and, as he watched, a big gooey head slid forward into her opening, snapping her labia into a thin taut ring, before her effort collapsed and the child slid back from view. He had never attended a birth before but there seemed precious minutes only if she were to receive her part of the inheritance.

Melissa Strongman was in a quandary. Her sympathies lay entirely with the women in the matter of the inheritance. One had, in all probability, probably already succumbed to her child’s need to be born, one would only inherit if the reading were quickly concluded, and the last would probably not outlast a 
lengthy adjournment. On the other hand, the conditions were hardly conducive to a reading.

Virginia was desperately striving not to push. The pain was intense, the urgency extreme, but she knew she must give as much time as possible for her ageing cuntal tissues to stretch enough to accommodate the passage of a fully grown child.

“Hhhooooooohh!! ... Hhhooooooohh!! ... Hhhooooooohh!! ...” she panted, trying to relax and take pressure off her tummy. Seeking distraction, she looked wildly about, her eyes locking with the concerned gaze of the solicitor. Her clenched, red, sweat streaked face seemed to plead for help, and the only help the solicitor could give was to continue the reading.

She looked down, found her place.

“ ... in equal parts to the maximum sum of ten million to be divided between them or such of them who shall, at the time of the reading of this, my last will and ...”

Virginia could resist no more. A cruel, agonising contraction gripped her. Sobbing with pain and effort she scrabbled behind her to find purchase on the chair and raised herself off the floor, knees spread until they pointed in almost opposite directions, the effort reinforcing her clamping tummy muscles and propelling the body of her child like a battering ram towards the gate of her vulva.

“AAAAAIIiiiiiiieeeeeeee!! ...” she screamed in torment as the hard fist of her baby’s head thrust out of her vagina and stretched her opening beyond endurance. For a moment it stuck there, she felt a searing burning where her clitoral hood should be, then roughly it thrust out of her, bumpy nose and ears sending shards of pain ripping through her. Gasping for breath she looked down. There was a baby’s face poking out of her gaping sex and looking up at her.

“ ... any such residue as shall remain after the aforesaid distributions have been made in accordance with the clauses above ...” Melissa gabbled.

“OOooooohhh nnoooooo!!! ...” came a wail from Rebecca this time. “Tom it’s happening again!” She clutched at her belly. Her tight white dress was visibly soaked with the fluids of her womb and she tugged it up showing her sweet, lacy panties, drenched to transparency, through which her tight, pale haired slit could be clearly seen. How is the baby supposed to get through there, thought Tom anxiously.

“I protest!” interjected David Potter noting Tom’s attention diverted elsewhere, but Melissa ignored him.

“ ... shall be transferred to the organisation known as The St Agatha Society of Fallen Angels, or any successor organisation or organisations formed for the same ...”

But it was too late for Virginia.

“OOoooooohhhhhhhfffffff!!! ...” she groaned, the next contraction gripping her as she subsided into a deep squat, one hand underneath her to hold her babe’s head. With a slight squirm of the hips she freed its shoulders from her tortured vulva and it slithered from her like a fish, plopping onto the floor.

The door opened and Doctor Maguire bustled into the room. Having attended to Cassandra upstairs, he had been told of the crisis unfolding below. As he entered he could see a pretty young blonde sitting to one side, flushed and panting, her knees apart, and on the other a mature brunette slumped on hands and knees panting and blowing and with a baby on the floor between her thighs still slick with birth fluids and still attached to a thick, angry red cord curling out of her loosely gaping vulva.

In the face of this dramatic interruption Melissa had been unable to maintain the reading and now, as Doctor Maguire hastened to attend to the older sister, the younger cried out.

“Tom! Ohh Godd Tom ... it’s happening .. the baby ... it’s coming! OOoooohhh!! ... HHHhhuuufff!! ... HHHhhuuufff!! ... AAarggghhhhh!!! ...HHHhhuuufff!! ... HHHhhuuufff!! ... Tom! Help meeee!! ... panties ... got to get my panties off!”

Tom rushed to her side. He helped her tug the sodden dress up over her head. In any other situation his prick would have been rigid at the sight of her swollen, blue veined breasts overflowing her lacy bra cups, but below them her tummy was moving, standing up round and hard with the convulsive clench of her muscles. She moaned and raised her bottom from the chair, clutching at the waistband of her panties. Tom grabbed them and peeled them down, past her straining knees and off her ankles. With a sob of relief Rebecca jacknifed her legs wide and gave along groaning cry, which Tom recognised from her sister minutes before.

He turned towards the stunned solicitor. “Please,” he cried desperately, “You have to finish, we don’t have much time.

Rebecca threw her hands back, gripping the seat back behind her. She pulled up her legs onto the broad seat of the armchair.

“HHhhnnnnnnggghhh!! ... HHhuuuff!! ... HHhuuuff!! ...” she panted, riding the contractions as best she could.

“ ... and if no such organisation or organisations shall in the sole discretion of my executors be deemed to exist ...” Melissa soldiered on.

“Please. I don’t think this is the time ...” interrupted Doctor Maguire, efficiently bundling up Virginia’s baby in a soft blanket brought by one of the maids.

“Nooooooooo!! ..” wailed Rebecca, “OOOoooohhhh ... HHHhhuuufff!! ... HHHhhuuufff!! ... HHhhnnnnnnggghhh!! ...” At each contraction now her tummy was tightening awfully, she was trying to keep from pushing like the books said but she just couldn’t and she could feel the baby grinding lower and lower in her. I’m the only one left she thought. If I can’t hold out that bastard will get the lot!

Tom was desperate for Rebecca. He could see the straining effort on her face every time a contraction hit. He didn’t know anything about managing labour but, after Virginia’s example he thought he could recognise its final stages well enough.

“You don’t understand,” he said frantically to the doctor. Turning to the solicitor: “You have to finish, you have to!”

The solicitor was looking very stressed. Tom thought that she might not be far from abandoning the place. Maybe one last chance.

“ ... then my said executors may at their sole discretion dispose of any such residue as hereinbefore defined to the benefit of any charity or charities whose purpose ...”

Doctor Maguire moved over to the labouring Rebecca. He thrust two fingers into her tight vagina and was startled to immediately find the hard plate of her child’s head coming the other way.

“... HHHuuuuhhh ... HHhhnnnnnnggghhh!! ...” she panted, the sudden invasion of the doctor’s fingers disrupting her control and causing her to give the hardest push yet. Her belly stood up, tightly defined and drawn as hard as a drum. With a panic she felt the babe shoved definitely lower.

“HHoooooowwwww!! ...” she wailed harshly. Unbeknown to the desperate teenager, the head of her fetus had cleared her pelvis and was suddenly stretching her slender, barely used vagina unimaginably.

“ ... in witness hereof.”

The intoning voice of the solicitor came to a stop. After a moment Tom looked up. She was tidying the papers. That was it! Rebecca had won! He turned back in triumph.

“You’ve done it Rebecca!” he crowed. Doctor Maguire looked at him strangely, but Rebecca grinned in triumph, a grin which never left her face in the last urgent, huffing, draining ten minutes it took to squeeze her baby into the world.

Four weeks later three sisters met for morning coffee. Their own needs met each then turned to her recently born babe, opened her shirt and freed a milk laden breast from her nursing bra.

“You know you really didn’t have to do it, Becky,” said Cassandra, as she lifted her plump, greedy son high to where her overfilled breast stood tautly out, thickly knotted with purple veins, the pink, quivering teat already forming droplets of thin white milk. “If anyone should have had the muscle control to earn a share of the money it should have been me!”

Rebecca already had her little daughter sipping daintily at her enlarged, and somewhat drooping boob, the lazy action of her gums on her mother’s stiffly extended nipple stalk sending little thrills down Rebecca’s spine.

“Oh, I was always going to share with you. We were in this together. you would have done the same for me, you know you would!”

Virginia was bent a little forward, her fast growing boy in her lap, her heavy, mature, down pointing udder stretching to where its thick, maternal nipple was engulfed by his tiny mouth. She felt nourishment gushing from her ducts and knew from the tingling in her other nipple that within her generously cut  blouse, the baby feeder still imprisoned in her industrial strength brassiere would be starting to drench her nipple pads.

“Well I’m going to put my share into a trust for little Sarah,” she said fondly. “After all we owe it all to her impeccable sense of timing!” The sisters laughed, the jiggling of their mammary glands slightly increasing the flow of sustenance to three tiny grateful gulping throats.?