Pregnancy Risk (Opal POV)

He pulls you behind him, your hand in his. He sits on the couch, pulling you into his lap. You’re pressed against his large stomach, your arm resting on his fat rolls. He pulls a small metal box from his pocket. You can’t see the contents but he fishes out a small brown pill and places it in your hand. “Take that,” he says, putting the box back in his pocket.

“What is it?” you ask looking at the tablet. Square with two rounded corners, PC81X3 pressed into the front of it. It looks slightly familiar.

He digs his fingers into your thigh, a threatening hold that hurts as he glares at you. “Did I say ask stupid questions? Or did I say take the Arceus damned pill?”

You give the pill one more look before placing it on your tongue, and swallowing the mystery pill. “See was that so hard?” He releases his hold on your thigh. “Can you feel it?” he asks, gently running his fingers over your stomach.

“Feel what?” you shakily ask.

“The pill. It will burn away your birth control. Then it attacks your ovaries, causing you to ovulate,” he traces imaginary circles, drawing the path from drawn circles meant to represent your ovaries down towards your pussy.

“What?” you crack. This can’t be real.

“You’ll be nearly guaranteed to be pregnant by the end of the night,” he laughs, rubbing his thick fingers over your pussy lips. You can’t get pregnant, you’re a trainer, having a baby will end your career. You’d have to stop traveling, taking care of your kid. You think of John, would he still be interested in you, if you were pregnant with another man’s child? “You’ll make an excellent mother,” he purrs, placing his hand over your womb, the other rubbing your back.

“I can’t be a mom yet,” you **** out, fighting back tears.

“Shhhh, you’ll be okay,” he shushes, turning your head to face him. The fat man kisses you, he presses his hand between your thighs. His fingers massage your sex. A knuckle, then two, slips within you. You quiver in fear, trying to find any path forward that may involve not being impregnated tonight.

If he just fingers you until break, then you could maybe find somewhere that doesn’t involve vaginal intercourse. The table where Daisy drank pint after pint of cum, your stomach churns at the thought. Perhaps with the men around the bathroom? Have they been fucking the women they’ve gathered?

He shifts under you, laying you on the couch against the arm. With one leg knelt on the couch, he looms over you. One button after another, his shirt falling away, a tight sleeveless undershirt covers his torso. He fumbles with his belt, your heart sinking, you can’t avoid this. You could run, but even if he doesn’t catch you before you can stand, you wouldn’t make it far in the room full of horny men, or out the guarded door.

He pulls his pants down just half way down his thighs, his underwear in tow. His penis visible, 4 maybe 5 inches under his thick belly. He leans over you, kissing you once again. His weight presses against you, his lips on yours. He shifts above you, fumbling for his cock. You feel him against your pussy, and he grunts as his cock drives within you.

His tongue squeezes past your lips, exploring your mouth. Each thrust slides his weight over you. His undershirt scratching against your bare skin, the rough fabric of the couch scraping across your back.

He huffs and pants above you, pumping into you. Maybe after you can squeeze it out, maybe scrape it out with your fingers. “Unngh,” he grunts, stilling over you. Warmth fills you, his weight resting atop you. He’s out of breath, what little effort he put forward taking it out of him. “You’ll have such beautiful babies,” he huffs in your ear. The words enough to make you sob. How could this be happening? You’ve been so good about birth control.

The couch creaks as he sits back, he works his pants back up. “Can you feel it,” he reaches across the expanse of the couch, his hand on your stomach, “Your egg being fertilized.” He smiles as tears stream down your cheek. “Our baby being formed in your young fertile womb.”

“Why?” you croak, your throat tightening on its own.

He laughs, “To let you live out your true purpose,” he caresses the skin above your womb, “Motherhood. A beautiful thing, and you’ll come to accept that, as your belly swells in the coming months.”

His pleasure seems to grow, the more your displeasure shines through. He places his hand on your knee, tapping it as he stands. He pulls his shirt back on, slowly buttoning the shirt back up. “I’d love to have another go, but my poor heart couldn’t take it,” he says, still out of breath. As soon as he leaves, you can move try to wash out your vagina, maybe just maybe, prevent a pregnancy. “So, I’ll have to let the others have their turn,” he laughs, gesturing to the crowd of men nearby.

Your heart drops as he calls out, “She’s all yours.” He walks away, making his way towards the buffet table. Another man approaches, and pulls your hips forward to him. He pounds into you, his fingers digging into your hips as he thrusts into you. Another load into your waiting womb. And as he pulls out of you, another man takes his spot. Load after load, pumped into your newly fertile womb. Any hope of clearing it out fades as each man deposits his load within you.

“Sorry fellas, but it’s time for another break,” a voice calls out. And the man buried in your pussy pulls out without finishing. Not that it would matter, there were dozens of loads deep within your pussy, clawing its way into your **** induced fertile womb.

You’re sobbing as you walk over to your friends. Yuruki is rubbing Jack’s torso with a thick gel. John is leaning against a table, his cock standing straight out in front of him. And at the sight of John, you lose it. Falling to your knees, sobbing, everything is lost. Your career as a trainer, your chances with John, everything.

“Hey, are you okay?” John is at your side. He rubs your back trying to soothe you. You bury your face in his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll make it through tonight, I promise.”

“It won’t, it won’t, he-he,” you croak through tears, “He gave me this pill, it-it **** me to ovulate.”

John looks down, you see him looking towards your well used crotch. “It will be okay, I’ll um,” he swallows, “I’ll be the father, I’ll do it now.” You stare into his eyes, believing him.

Your throat is tight, unable to even **** out a word. You just nod, and he kisses you. His muscular body pressed to yours. His cock slides within your folds and 3 thrusts later, his cum mixes with all those already deep within your womb. “See, it will be fine, now you know who the father is,” he says so sweetly. You know that’s not how it works, any of the men could be the father, but it makes you feel better knowing that John isn’t going to shun you after tonight.

“Wait, what is this pill? I’ve never heard of anything like that?” Yuruki asks.

Your tongue is thick in your mouth as you manage to describe the pill, “It was brown with two rounded corners. Um, it had letters, PX1C8? Or something like that, my dyslexia gets me on that kind of stuff.”

“That kind of sounds like tranquillax,” Yuruki says, “You know the anti-inflammatory **** they use for pain and headaches?”

Tranquillax? You have a bottle in your purse for scrapes and scratches while on your journey. That’s why it looked familiar. You’re not pregnant? You’re not pregnant! You wrap your arms around John, crying tears of relief.

“Johnny boy’s going to need some tranquillax after his next round,” Yuruki teases. John stiffens in your arms, and you follow his gaze where an older gentleman is looking over a wall of paddles and whips.