Gestating Fears

Christine had gone straight home after Adrian left. What was the point of staying late at her when her proposal was dead? She turned her key in the lock and stepped into her apartment.

Mary was sitting on the sofa in their living room, watching TV. As Christine dropped her stuff on the table they kept near the front door, it must have been obvious that she was upset, because her roommate looked concerned.

“What’s wrong?” Mary asked

Mary knew her well, it would have been hard to hide from her that Christine’s dreams had just been crushed. “That guy I’ve been meeting with," she said. "He isn’t going to hand over the book.”

“Oh," Mary replied. "Shit.”

“Yeah,” Christine sighed.

She crumpled down on the couch next to her friend and, feeling spent, rested her head in Mary’s lap. Mary’s hand gently stroked her hair. Christine felt overwhelmed; she tried not to cry.

“I don’t know what to do now,” Christine admitted weakly.

“You’ll figure something out,” Mary consoled her. “You’ve still got your notes. You can work with that.”

“Without the book, I’m dead in the water. Roger’s going to get the funding. I’m not.”

Mary’s silence spoke volumes. “Could we have it seized?” she finally asked. “Where would he even get a thing like that? Maybe it's stolen. We could try calling the cops.”

“Could be worth a try, I guess.” Christine didn’t love the idea; it didn’t seem right. But it felt even worse to let such an important discovery rot away in the back of some man’s closet.

“I’ll go to the precinct with you tomorrow, and we can file a report,” Mary promised. “We aren’t giving up.”

Christine reached up and held Mary’s hand, squeezing it in thanks. Mary always made her feel better.

Something strange bubbled up inside of Christine’s gut.

"Kiss her."

Christine sat bolt upright and Mary jumped in surprise. “Did you hear that?” Christine asked.

“Hear what?”

“I thought I heard-“ Christine cut off abruptly. “Never mind,” she said, blushing. She must have heard something from the TV, Christine figured.

Mary looked concerned. “You should get some rest.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Christine admitted. She probably looked like a mess. “I’m going to go lie down.”

“I’ll handle dinner tonight,” Mary offered. “Want me to come get you when it’s ready?”

“I already ate,” Christine said. “I thought it’d be another late night in the office.”

“I’ll make extra anyways. You can have some for lunch tomorrow if you don’t eat it tonight.”

Christine nodded and walked over to her bedroom door. It wasn’t just that she was tired; she wanted out of that room for a second reason as well. The strange warmth in her stomach hadn’t gone away, and being near Mary was making it worse. She shut the door behind herself, alone in her dark bedroom.

"Call Mary in. Fuck her."

Christine spun around; someone had spoken. She was certain of it, but there was no one else in the room.

She was just tired, Christine nervously rationalized. She’d been working late, trying to finish up a proposal that she’d just found out was worthless. Her brain was fried, that was all. Christine lay down on her bed, pulling the plain white comforter up to her neck. She thought about reading her book, but she didn’t have it in her. She didn’t watch much TV either and didn’t have one in her room. With no good distractions, she lay there in the dark, alone with her thoughts. Her thoughts, and the warm fuzzy feeling.

Her hand reached down beneath her shirt. Her fingers felt good against her skin, soothing. She closed her eyes and enjoyed it for a moment. Christine unbuttoned her high-waisted pants and shimmied them down, giving better access so that she could continue to rub her stomach. Slowly, without her realizing it, Christine's hand drifted lower. The warmth followed it. Inch by inch her hand and the sensation descended in tandem until she was working her fingers through the curly red hair of her bush. She never bothered to shave down there; she had no one who would care, and even when she was in a relationship it wasn’t the sort of thing she could be bothered to do. Right then she was glad of that. The hair felt good beneath her fingers.

She could feel the warmth spread down into her sex. Christine began to grow wet, and her breathing began to quicken. Tentatively, her unpracticed fingers worked their way down to gently tease her lips. She had only masturbated a dozen or so times in her entire life, but she knew what she liked. She circled her opening, slick now with her arousal, and let the gentle sensation stoke her fire further.

Something was different from those few times she'd done this. Ordinarily, it was a long, drawn-out affair; it usually took her a long time to build up her arousal. This time, however, she felt an urgency that she'd never experienced before. Christine gathered some moisture on her finger and slid it up to her clit, rubbing it in a slow, circling motion.

A moan escaped her lips. Chr. She would be mortified if Mary knew what she was doing.

"Or maybe it’d be hot."

The whisper slid in through the cracks in Christine's sex-addled awareness. She didn’t register it as an outside presence. Instead, she found herself wondering why she'd had such a thought. Sure, Mary was cute, and friendly, and sweet. Sure, Mary was always there for her. And sure, Christine loved the way Mary would idly brush her fingers through her hair when they were next to each other…but the thought of Mary walking in just then was awful.

But Christine’s mind was stuck on the thought. Her fingers resumed their work, quickening their pace. Jolts of pure pleasure shot through Christine's body. Her mind was on the warmth of Mary’s skin and the smell of her hair. Christine was hornier than she'd ever been before, and the fantasy became more lurid. She pictured Mary’s head between her legs, instead of her hand. She could feel Mary’s warm breath on her sex, could feel Mary’s tongue, slowly, gently reaching out to…

Christine moaned again, too turned on to keep quiet. Her fingers flicked across her clit and her hips back against them. She needed to cum in a way that was completely unfamiliar to her and it had driven away all decorum. Beneath the blanket, Christine's body was a sweaty mess of sexual tension. All pretense was gone. Her pussy was on fire as she imagined her roommate eating her out.

There’s something Mary could never give you though.

Suddenly, Christine’s fantasy felt hollow. Mary could make her cum, but where was the grand finale? What was the point if, at Christine’s moment of pleasure, she couldn’t feel the heat of cum flooding deep inside her?

Her fingers moved away from her clit and worked their way into her soaking-wet entrance. She moved them in and out of herself, picturing a cock set to explode in her at any second.

I’d look so hot with a big, pregnant belly.

Christine internalized the idea. She pictured herself gravid in maternal bliss, her belly round with child, all because she'd gotten fucked by a big, hard cock.

Christine was almost there. She jammed a third finger into her needy hole, trying to work them in as deeply as she could. A second hand joined the fray, rapidly strumming her clit. Her climax crashed down on her hard. As it swept across her body, Christine's mind was locked on the idea of the imaginary cock spurting its cum inside of her. She shuddered in orgasm at the thought of a big, weighty set of balls emptying into her pussy. It was the most intense sexual experience of her life.

The waves of pleasure were slow to recede, but eventually, Christine came down from her sexual high. She was a mess. Her body was drenched in sweat and her hands were coated in her juices. Despite her state though, Christine felt better. The stress had been lifted from her shoulders. She knew that it was just endorphins, but Christine enjoyed it while it lasted.

The post-orgasm fog lifted from Christine's brain and she came back to herself. A sober thought cut the afterglow short with icy swiftness. Adrian had said this would happen.

Christine's pulse began to quicken. Maybe, she reasoned, she had simply been primed. Perhaps when Adrian suggested that she would be horny, that she would be turned on by the thought of getting pregnant, the idea had implanted itself in the back of her mind. Then, frazzled by the day's setback, her subconscious had seized upon the latent notion.

It would almost have been believable if it weren’t for two separate facts. First, it was deeply unlike her. Christine had never minded sex, so long as it was not too frequent, but the passion she’d felt that night was entirely new. And pregnancy? She’d never wanted to be a mother; she wasn’t against it, she’d always figured that maybe if the right guy came along it would happen, but it had never been a goal for her and it had certainly never been a turn-on.

The second, and far more concerning, reason though was that there was nothing about her day that should have led to this. Just fifteen minutes ago she had been devastated. People didn’t go from being emotionally wrought to horny. It wasn’t normal.

A third thought, that she had pictured Mary in the middle of her session, was shoved to the side. She didn’t want to think about it; the shame and embarrassment were too much. Instead, she focused on what Adrian had told her. That he had summoned something with the book. That it was changing people.

I was too hard on him.

No, that wasn’t it. She’d had every right to yell at him like she had. He’d made her a promise, under which she had spent a lot of time and energy laboring. He needed to follow through. In light of what had just happened though, maybe she needed to reconsider how she’d written him off.

A demonic summoning was pretty out there. Christine tried to think of other theories. Neurosyphilis could present with increased libido, and it may have left her mind soft enough to be suggestable to Adrian’s ‘predictions’. She’d need to get tested.

Another idea was that Adrian had spiked her with some kind of ****. She didn’t know of any aphrodisiacs that could have so strong of an effect, but maybe they were out there. Where Adrian would have acquired such a thing, how we would have dosed her, and why he would have done it were all questions she didn't have an answer for.

Adrian wouldn’t do that to me. We’re friends.

Were they? She hadn’t ever really thought about it. Adrian was just a guy she was working with, and out of necessity at that. But they had spent a lot of time together by now, and until their latest interaction, none of it had been unpleasant. Maybe they were friends. She had to admit, she couldn’t picture him drugging her. So that theory was out.

Would he lie to her though? That she was less sure about. Maybe he would, but her gut was undecided. Adrian seemed like a nice enough guy, or at least he had. If he’d ever lied to her before she hadn’t caught him in it.

Christine took a strand of her hair and worried at it with her teeth. She fished her phone out of her pocket - pants still around her thighs - and pulled up her text conversation with Adrian. The last messages they’d sent to each other had been arranging what was now looking to be the final opportunity to translate the book that she’d get.

She decided to message him, and for two good reasons. First, opening up a line of communication could allow her the opportunity to talk him back into letting her publish. Second, there was a small knot of fear in her chest wouldn't let her dismiss his warning. She’d just masturbated after having the worst day of her year; that was so deeply unlike her that it had to mean something was wrong, whatever it may be.

Christine bit down on her hair and sent Adrian a text: “I think we should talk.”