Day 3 - Bad dreams, worse reality

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"WAH!?" You startle and jump up, disoriented and confused as hell! Your eyes open immediately and you look around to find yourself... in the living room? On the couch? Was it all a dream? How much of it was a dream!? Ughh, the strong stench of **** fills your nostrils and you're reminded of the heavy night of drinki --

Unnnh...

Just moments after realizing that you had one of the worst possible nightmares, you already feel your hangover getting the better of you. Your stomach is recoiling, throat aching, and you lean over to the side of the couch -- spotting a bucket -- and instantly begin throwing up into it! You keep puking in small waves... which... obviously wasn't ladylike. Nope, you sure as hell managed to stay true to your original gender. A drunken, hungover mess of a guy. Congratulations.

"Hurgh..." Your bucket's filling quickly. There's some leftover from yesterday's cake...

"Nuuurgh..." Ah yes, the cherries you ate...

"Guhhh..." Is that... a rainbow? Did you just puke rainbows? Naa it's just more cake frosting...

A familiar voice follows from the side of the couch, young and feminine. "Done yet?" Gwen looked at you with a hint of a smirk and fortunately didn't seem too grossed out by your vulgar display of... stuff. "You're lucky I woke up a few minutes earlier and had the foresight to give you that bucket." You tighten your grip around it. "The things we do for love, huh?" She chuckles and seems to take the whole thing with a bit of humor while watching you be miserable. You still hadn't managed to get even a single word out. Her attitude towards you sure had changed... just a day ago she hated your guts. Perhaps she had always felt a little lonely and now she's allowing herself to hope for a better future? You really can't say that you haven't been guilty of similar thoughts, being lonely isn't fun. It wasn't love that got you two married, but at least for now you might as well try to make the best of it. After you're done puking.

Gwen is polite enough to hand you a tissue when that time came, and you groggily wipe your mouth clean with the foul taste of **** still lingering on your tongue. Your head's aching, your belly is aching, and you still feel dizzy. You should've thought twice about drinking so much now that you're little more than a petite girl. At least it didn't have any bad consequences, aside from that weird dream. "Thanks," you finally speak up, before getting off the couch to give your new wife a hug. Even that wasn't easy considering you were standing on unsteady legs, a rush of nausea is urging you on to sit back down again.

"You're welcome," she smirks while keeping you in a warm, lingering embrace before helping you along into the kitchen to take a seat. "Whaddaya want to eat? Oh nevermind, I got just the thing." With swift and precise movements, she retrieved some fresh bacon from the fridge, tossed a couple eggs into the frying pan, and prepared the perfect hangover-cure for you. Even when it's done and you begin to eat, she simply sits down on the opposite side of the table and quietly watches you eat. It's replenishing your energy for sure, but doesn't quite take care of the lingering sickness in your stomach... you also begin to notice that the crotch of your underwear was beginning to feel rather... wet? You didn't pee yourself, did you? "I'll just... excuse me for a moment." It's not something you wanted to go into detail with, and Gwen obediently remains in the kitchen without pushing you for more answers.

You sluggishly make your way to the bathroom, sit down on the toilet and peel your underwear down to your knees. While you relief your bladder, you notice the origin of the moisture. Some slippery discharge had made its way into the crotch of your undies, probably a sign that you are in fact ovulating. Your little vagina was getting really excited at the prospect of having children, too bad that it doesn't align with your plans for the future. You decide to wipe the fluids away with simple toilet paper and flush the goo down the drain.

It's a shame you couldn't be more open to Gwen about your situation. It isn't the first time that you pondered that choice, but it's a fact that she's had sex with you... so telling her that you are her brother would gross her out, confuse her, maybe even make her stop talking to you forever? You couldn't ruin her like that. Until you change back into your male body, you will try to be a good wife and keep her happy. She deserves that much. Anyway, you get up to leave... but immediately feel another rush of nausea that forces you back onto your knees! Once again you throw up, this time into the toilet.

It's ugly and messy, and by the time you're done you are so exhausted that you sit back down on the toilet for a moment of rest. It's then that you feel something coarse rubbing against the inside of your... labia? You reach under your wedding dress -- while making a mental note to change into some more comfortable clothes -- and pull your underwear down to inspect your lady bits more closely. As you do, you also spot even more moisture which had already found its way into the crotch of your undies once again. Slick and slippery, a string of the translucent fluid connected the fabric to your pussy... your vag was drooling, but why? And what's that fluid anyway?

This time you look at your womanhood and spot the culprit of your discomfort. A cotton string, and it was dangling freely against the puffy lips of your lady bits. Upon gently grabbing it, you can tell that it's at least partly inside you. How did it get there? You give it a tug and feel something inside your pussy moving. What the hell? There's also the faint, salty scent of spunk wafting up from your little cunt now that it was getting a little bit of action.

Somewhat alarmed, you give the cotton string another tug and watch the bottom end of a... tampon emerging from between your cunt lips? It simply peeked out of you like a white dildo, but was thick and soaked through with juices. It must've been in there for a few hours at the very least! After your confusion passes, you continue pulling it outwards until it simply pops free -- followed by a sudden wet gush of cloudy liquid! "Ohh... ohhhh!" You can't help but moan like a little slut as you feel your belly deflating, an insane amount of liquid spilled out of your cunt and splattered into the toilet bowl! This certainly explained the pressure you felt -- you had been stuffed to the brim!

It takes a moment for you to regain your composure. When you do, you look down to see a pool of old sperm now that it escaped your pussy, fat globs were still dripping out of your slit, and the rancid stench of unprotected sex filled your nostrils! What's going on!? It hadn't been a dream?! You really had sex with your mother?! Was she the one who stuffed a tampon into your twat, to keep her stupid semen stuck inside your fertile loins? Shit, shit! It was supposed to be a dream, no!!

Another realization invades your mind. This hangover didn't feel like a normal hangover at all! Could it be... It's your first morning sickness!

Your stomach recoils at the thought. Your mom only needed a single evening alone with your cunt to make sure you're successfully bred like a bitch in heat! She fucked a baby into you! On the contrary to your panic and revulsion, your body remained at the mercy of your instincts and you could feel your tail -- unnatural as it may be -- wagging in excitement! That little dick-sheathe between your legs fulfilled its biological purpose and carried its first pregnancy. And your body loved it!

"No, no, no!" This MUST be a hangover! You disregard everything else and quickly get to your bedroom to start up the computer and find out what's going on! There it is -- a normal pregnancy doesn't cause these symptoms until weeks or even months after conceiving! You're saved! You are not pregnant!

You glance back down at those puffy cunt-lips of yours, in an attempt to gloat at your own womanhood. You refuse to be stuck in the body of a girl for the rest of your life! That stupid witch will not be victorious in the end! Your tail however is still swinging and swaying around? Get the clue, you're not pregnant! Unless...

Almost immediately your slender fingers dash across the keyboard to type in a new search, one with significantly more upsetting news. A human pregnancy lasts nine months. But a canine pregnancy lasts barely eight weeks. With a suddenly pale face and emotionless eyes, you gaze down at your stomach. This can't be. You are human! This HAS to be a human pregnancy! You can't be pregnant with... with... dogs?

You are exceptionally young and fertile. It's no surprise that your ovulation yielded a particularly good harvest for your mother's swarm of sperm! Seven tiny eggs were coaxed out of your ovaries, and thanks to your mommy's dedicated seed, you even received a couple twins in the process. Her canine DNA matched perfectly with yours, fusing and absorbing one another to create new life somewhere in the far back of your cunt. Nine puppies came to life right there, safely contained inside your womb, growing just underneath your bellybutton even as you stare down in disbelief. She had done the impossible! Or rather, her virile doggy cum did!

A minute passes and you still refuse to accept your fate, this can't be! This is ridiculous! You won't let this happen! You get rid of your clothes, return to the bathroom and take a thorough shower to clean every inch of your body, inside and outside. This can't possibly be the end -- you can still fight! Even as you do that however, you can see your vagina returning back to its original state. No longer red, no longer swollen and aroused... your ovulation was over. Your most fertile time had passed but for it's entire duration you had been stuffed full of your mom's sperm. There's no doubt left, she got the job done.

She's always getting what she wants, and now she owns your womb.
Life's going to get very complicated...