Dr. Williams [Part 4.] - Checking her pulse

I pressed the stethoscope deeper into the warm valley between Mary's breasts, I pressed the stethoscope deeper into the warm valley between Mary's breasts, frowning theatrically. My fingers tightened slightly on the diaphragm—just enough to cut off the sound—as I shook my head with practiced concern. "That's odd," I muttered, more to myself than to them. "I'm not picking up your heartbeat."

Mary's breath caught audibly when I slid the stethoscope lower, tracing the curve of her ribcage. Jeremy's grip on her neck tightened imperceptibly—a silent command. "Perhaps your blouse is too thick for an accurate reading," I said, clicking my tongue with feigned professionalism. My pulse hammered in my throat as I watched realization dawn across Mary's face, her pink tongue darting out to wet her lips.

Mary's fingers moved with startling eagerness, the tight turtleneck peeling away from her flushed skin like gift wrap being torn from some forbidden present. The fabric clung momentarily to her swollen nipples—already stiffened into dark peaks beneath the cotton—before finally surrendering with an almost audible snap. Jeremy exhaled sharply through his nose as her heavy breasts jiggled within the confines of her bra, their exaggerated fullness made all the more obscene by the clinical fluorescent lights overhead.

Mary's breasts were a marvel of biology—plump, heavy globes that defied gravity on her otherwise petite frame. The contrast was almost obscene; her waist narrow enough for Jeremy's hands to nearly span it, yet her chest could've fed a village. I watched, mesmerized, as they swayed slightly when she exhaled, the lace of her bra straining against their weight. Milky skin peeked through the gaps in the fabric, flushed pink from enthusiasm.

Then I realised how amazing Mary's body truly was. She had been pregnant for just one day, yet her breasts had already swollen to almost twice their normal size—if her conservative blouse had been any indication of her usual proportions. The bra she wore no longer fit, straining against the sudden expansion, her nipples poking out of the tops of her bra cups as if begging to be touched. Milky veins spiderwebbed beneath her skin, her body already preparing for lactation like she was meant to be bred over and over again.

The stethoscope slipped from my fingers entirely as Mary's breasts heaved with each excited breath, her areolas darkening visibly beneath the strained lace. "Fascinating," I murmured, barely recognizing my own voice—it had gone thick, syrupy with arousal. My gloved hands hovered over her skin without touching, mapping the topography of her swollen glands. "Most women show physiological changes weeks into gestation, but you..." My tongue darted out to wet suddenly dry lips. "Your body's responding to Jeremy's seed like it was engineered for it."

"You're a medical anomaly, Mary," I said, tracing the swollen blue veins beneath her skin with my latex-covered fingertips. The words tasted like bullshit on my tongue, but the way her breath hitched told me she was swallowing every syllable. "This level of physiological response in under 24 hours?" I shook my head slowly, watching her nipples tighten further under my gaze. "I've only read about this in fringe journals. Jeremy must have..." I paused dramatically, lowering my voice, "Some of the most powerful sperm in recorded history."

Mary looked at me hopefully, "So my babies will be alphas? Like Jeremy?" Her voice trembled with reverence, fingers unconsciously kneading the plush flesh spilling from her bra cups. Behind her, Jeremy let out a dark chuckle, his fingers tightening in her hair—not enough to hurt, but enough to make her whimper.