Consequences: Eight Months Later

Eight months had passed since Dave, the brash teen, had fulfilled his primal imperative by impregnating both Alison Knox and Tracy in the private hallway of The Lace and Silk Boutique.

Dave stood outside the heavy, quiet door of Alison’s suburban house, clutching a greasy bag of takeout burgers and wearing his characteristic smug smirk. He knew that the Breeding Pass demanded that all pregnancies must be brought to term, and he was here to witness the physical confirmation of his virility.

He kicked the door lightly. "Open up! Your baby-daddy is here to check on his investments!" he shouted, unwilling to use a proper knock.

The door opened to reveal Tracy, utterly transformed. Her previously sweetly curved body was now massively expanded, dominating the doorway, clad in loose, practical maternity wear.

"Must you announce yourself to the entire neighborhood, David?" Tracy asked, using the formal name he despised, her scornful tone softened by a layer of maternal exhaustion.

"Jeez, you look ready to pop, Trace!" Dave remarked, stepping past her.

The living room was dominated by two expansive nesting areas. Alison Knox was reclined heavily on a sofa, looking even more overwhelmingly pregnant than Tracy. The model-perfect woman wore a look of profound shame and weary resignation, constantly touching the wedding ring on her left hand.

"You look rough, Alison," Dave commented, dumping the greasy bag of burgers onto the coffee table.

Alison's eyes flashed with misery. "Why are you still wearing that?" Dave asked, gesturing toward the ring.

Alison's voice, when she spoke, was tight with controlled anger. "Todd hasn't filed the papers yet, Dave. The ring is the last hope I can cling to that he'll realize that I had no control over the situation and take me back."

Tracy, collapsing heavily into an armchair, added, "And every attempt Alison made to consult a lawyer or seek medical intervention was somehow inexplicably thwarted. There's just no fighting it once the Breeding Pass is used, it would seem."

Alison fixed Dave with a cold stare. "Look at the sheer absurdity of this, David. We are two women carrying the children of a literal teenager."

Dave merely shrugged, grabbing a burger. "Hey, I knocked both of you up in one day. I guess I'm just that virile."

Tracy leaned forward, displaying a pragmatic focus on their shared, enforced reality. "He gets off on your shame, Alison. Focus on the reality: Dave is the father, and unlike your husband, at least Dave provides company and sustenance."

Dave nodded, pleased to see Tracy adopting a functional, non-emotional stance. He directed his gaze at Alison. "You know, for someone who was trying to stay faithful to her husband, you look pretty good with my seed stretching you out. That nightie really was a maternity dress, wasn't it?"

Alison flinched at the reference to the black nightie. She had been saving her fidelity for her husband, only to be **** into adultery and impregnation by this despised teen.

Dave then looked at Tracy. "So, when’s the due date for your baby, Trace?"

Tracy managed a genuine, albeit cynical, smile. "Soon, Dave. And if you want to be useful, you can rub my feet. This is your doing, after all. At least I at least got to watch the show before I submitted, unlike Alison."

Dave settled onto the floor near Tracy, placing a hand gently on her massive belly. He looked between the two conquered women, thoroughly satisfied with his dual fulfillment of the Breeding Pass's demands.