Your belly and tits swell like a human pregnancy

Your father's cum seems to do the trick, and your pregnancies progress quickly. You weren't sure what you were expecting to happen, but so far it's much like an accelerated human pregnancy. Your belly is swollen, round and heavy. Your tits have ripened into firm melons that seem to defy gravity. Both of you have already started to lactate, plant-woman nectar rather than milk. In response to your new condition, your father has moved the two of you to a room in the laboratory, where Michael can tend to your needs. You also meet the mysterious doctor--no one mentions his name--whose lab this is. He's a small, wiry, shy fellow who probes you a few times and then leaves without so much as small talk.

Your father continues to give you a daily dose of cum; Michael helps out. After four days, the two of you are so advanced that there's little point in wearing clothing any more. You spend most of the day in your room, making out with each other and waiting to get fucked or milked, with occasional forays outside for sun and exercise. Your arousal has reached a constant baseline marked by a need for intense vaginal stimulation, by a cock, dildo, vibrator--anything will do. Of course, Michael is documenting all of these developments with disturbing fidelity, including HD cameras that you hope aren't connected to the Internet….

"Fuck, I love being pregnant," Christina says. She's squeezing and massaging her tits, which are just as luscious and firm as yours. A thin stream of nectar dribbles from her nipples, following the curve of her breasts down her body. "I wonder if we'll get to keep these."

You agree with her sentiments, but you also can't help but wonder what is growing inside of you. The ultrasounds so far have been inconclusive. It's not a baby per se, more like plant-like structures, but so far no one has come up with a good explanation. All that's clear is that you are carrying something to term….

Another two days pass. You develop a craving for sweet things. Your baby needs sugars to complete its growing process. When you and Christina aren't sucking cock, you're sucking lollipops while lying on your backs in bed, or while lying outside, continuing to work on your tan. Despite it being less than a week, you're having trouble remembering what life was like before coming to the island. Did you really have to wear clothing? Did you really not get brutally fucked morning, noon, and night? Did you really have to deal with classes, study, homework?

All of that seems like a faroff dream. And on day 7, you go into labour.

It's painful, but not in the same way as childbirth. Rather, it's just a feeling of intense discomfort. Something is inside your womb and trying to get out, but it doesn't have the same broad and bony profile of a human baby.

"That's it," the doctor says, one eye on your dilated pussies, the other on his medical devices. "Just a little further. Push!"

You groan and obey. You are lying on a bed in the hospital wing of the lab. The sheets are drenched with your sweat, which has darkened your blonde hair and plastered it against your face, obscuring your vision as you feel this new life leaving you. Every part of your body aches, but it's a pale imagining compared to your swollen pussy.

Christina screams, and you turn your head. You see something green and slick slip from between her legs and into the pan that Michael holds out. With another groan and a further push, you feel your own offspring finally break loose. As with a human baby, an umbilical cord connects you. The doctor cuts it with a snick-snip, and it dangles limply from the table, awaiting your afterbirth before being removed.

"What is it?" you ask.

The doctor holds it up. It's alien, barely recognizable as some kind of plant. So dark green as to be almost black, its structure consists of a series of broad fronds issuing from thick, tubular structures connected to a central bulb. Fine roots hang off the bulb, ready for planting in some nutritious soil. You've done your part. Hopefully now this plant will produce the aphrodisiac substance the company wants, without the fuss of having to care for a warehouse full of plant women.

The two of you are kept in the hospital wing under observation for a few days. It'll be weeks before your stomach has regained a somewhat normal shape, but you'll never be as taut as you were before. Your tits rapidly reduce to their original sizes, for it seems the lactation was but a byproduct of the pregnancy; however, they remain permanently firm and far more sensitive, with your nipples now big and dark brown rather than a light pink. Similarly, your pussies feel stretched and loose. This does not deter Michael and your father, who see no reason to stop fucking you just because you're not pregnant now.

By the time you feel back to normal, the two weeks are up. You've been to see your offspring, planted neatly in pots in the same room as their grandparents. Rayna and Carrie seem happy to see you--they must be able to identify you by smell--but you stay out of arm's reach.

It's almost time to return home. Or is it?