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Medication, Part 11 - Female Version
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Note: This is a female version of Medication.
Summary: All her life, Trisâs mother forced her to take a daily medication, but never really told her why. After Tris goes off to college, she starts skipping doses, and finally realizes just what the medication is for. Monthly expansion. Contains: Female: belly expansion, breast expansion, and more.
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âTris, weâre having senior medical staff transported in to clear you for travel,â Derek said. âThe details of your return are going higher and higher up the command chain. Youâve been missing for months and were declared dead a week ago. You know the mediaâs going to be all over this.â
Trisâs face fell. She looked down at her knees.
Derek sighed. âBut weâll do our best.â
Their best wasnât good enough.
Tris packed what few things she had. Two days later, she and the babies were helicoptered home. But the moment she got out onto the helipad of the cityâs best hospital, she was swarmed by reporters. Her heart sank, and she began to feel nauseous.
âUXG News, here with the girl who can gestate babies rapidly.â
âIs it true that you gave birth to five babies in the past two months, miss?â
âTris! Tris, a word?â
âIt is our understanding that some of your children are only a month apart in age. Can you confirm this, miss?â
âTris, what went on while you were missing in the jungle?â
âHow do you explain your medical anomaly? Rapid pregnancy has long been considered impossible.â
âWhich of your classmates is the father of your children?â
âPeople were at risk. People went missing, or even died. And you were busy getting it on during a humanitarian expedition?â
The camera flashes were blinding. And they got all the evidence they needed. Her fat belly, still rounded after the birth. The engorged DD-cups on her chest, pushing out against her tight sweatshirt. She was sure that she would start leaking at any moment. She could hear the babies wailing behind her, being carried by various medical attendants.
Up ahead, a blonde-haired figure was fighting through the crowd. Tris recognized her immediately, and she struggled her way over. Soon she was wrapped in her motherâs embrace, clutching her desperately, sobbing into her shoulder. Tris couldnât lift her head up, she just held on for dear life.
Her mother was crying as well. Tris could hear it in her words. âLetâs go inside, Tris.â
The crowd seemed to press harder around them, reporters and medical staff attacking from all sides.
âI donât want to,â said Tris morosely. She had become a freakshow; an attraction. People wanted to poke and prod her, and find out how she worked. âI just want to go home.â
Her mother ran her fingers down Trisâs back. "You were sick, Tris, with a deadly disease. We need to make sure youâre okay. We need to have yourâyour new babies checked out as well. I donât want to lose you. Not after your father.â
Tris nodded against her motherâs shoulder. After a pause in which she drew a long, shaky breath, she pulled away, ducking her head as she shoved through the crowd, and was ushered into the hospital building, nurses and doctors flanking her, seeming to overwhelm the reporters now.
Soon she was lying down in a private room after having been put through a multitude of tests. The quiet was pleasant, but she still felt a stitch of tension in her chest whenever her door cracked open, and she could hear the garble of yammering voices out in the corridor. But she breathed through it.
Tris frowned down at the curve of her lower belly. At the swell of fat, andâŠand baby. She wondered if she would be having twins again. Resigned, she cupped the bump with her hand.
âOh honey,â said her mother as she entered the room. Trisâs mother had some wrapped sandwiches in hand. Setting them down on her bedside table, she took a seat and reached over to stroke Trisâs hair. âEverything is going to be okay.â
Okay, but decidedly difficult. Now Tris had seven children to mindâwith more on the wayâand she wasnât even sure if she would be allowed to graduate from college after the humiliating fiasco in the forest. âI was stupid,â Tris said. âI donât know why I thought I could do this. I should have never gone on the trip.â
âNever regret living your life.â
And now Tris was crying again. It must have been hormones or something. She impatiently wiped her arm across her cheeks.
âBut no more adventures for a while,â said her mother. âI just want you to recover.â
-
Tris and the babies were discharged only a few days later. She left the hospital in the middle of the night, by which point the presence of reporters had thinned considerably. She was exhausted, but glad to be home again.
Her motherâs home, of course. After all, Tris couldnât have done this without her.
Trisâs life had taken a turn she never would have imagined. Suddenly she was living as a stay-at-home mother, attending to her hoard of infant offspring. And she was growing rapidly, already midway through her new pregnancy. The media was persistent, reporters popping up when she least expected it. So Tris stayed in, mostly.
Tris had always been meant to go places, to do great things. It was odd to just be home, with everything so weirdly domestic. All because of a few missed pills. Yet it was nice to be apart from the rest of the world, if just for a little while.
Her pregnancy was moving along. Her delivery was scheduled to be in the hospital, and everything. It was odd and new, and would certainly be different to be laboring in a medical setting. But at the same time, it was also a relief not to be hiding things anymore. To have the security of modern medicine. It made her feel a lot safer after her ordeal in the forest. It was odd to talk about delivery as well. It was usually something she did alone, not even reaching out to her mother to discuss her fears, her expectations, and her preparations (or lackthereof).
âNow donât let them convince you to do a cesarean,â her mother was chattering over breakfast one morning.
Tris was silently munching her toast. She felt heavy, lethargic, and bloated. She wasnât used to people really seeing her like this. Yet here she was, in pajama pants and a tank top that stretched over her round belly which, in turn, was perched against her lap.
The side of her shirt was pulled down, one of her newborns nursing. It wasnât comfortable to nurse while trying to eat (or nurse while doing anything, really), but she had learned the necessity of multitasking now that she was juggling five newborns and two toddlers.
Her breasts were bloated, nipples sore. Her whole body ached, and she felt unbalanced at times. She was too narrow for the immensity of her condition and the strain it posed on her body.
ââŠâve been giving birth naturally just fine. You donât need them to start cutting you up every time,â her mother went on.
âMum, this is the last time. Iâm never doing this again.â
Trisâs mother gave her a sympathetic look. âOf course, dear. But what about scarring?â
There was a wailing sound in the next room which immediately became a chorus of voices. To Tris, it had become background noise, but her mother reacted, getting up as she simultaneously wiped her hands on her napkin.
âI donât care about scars,â Tris called as her mother left. Tris sighed, and arched, stretching her sore back. She felt short arms wrap around her stomach and looked down at her oldest, who was now up and yawning.
âSaying good morning?â Tris smiled despite it all.
âGâmorning to babies,â Eric mumbled against her stomach. âAnd morninâ mommy.â
Her mother came back into the kitchen, impressively balancing a baby in each arm. âI just donât think itâs worth it to get surgeryâor, good morning, darling.â She threw a weary smile at Eric.
Tris rolled her eyes. She didnât even know why she was arguing with her mother. As miserable as she found natural birth to be, the thought of surgery was unnerving. Natural birth was something she had gotten used to.
There was a knock on the door. Her mother frowned. âWho could that be?â She looked helplessly at her arms, and went back to the nursery. Tris couldnât have balanced both babies even if she wasnât nursing. She didnât think she could have gotten up and answered the door either, not fast enough that their visitor wouldnât have assumed that no one was home and departed.
Itâs probably just another reporter, Tris thought in annoyance. âReady for breakfast?â she asked Eric, glancing around for the cereal.
Eric ignored her, which he had been doing a lot of lately, especially once he realized that Tris couldnât take chase anymore. He hopped off towards his bedroom, either to wake his sibling or play with toys.
Tris frowned after him.
Her mother hurried past again, arms free now as she walked off to the living room. Tris could hear her answer the door, the bolt drawing, the knob turning, and then there was a gasp, followed by hushed words. Tris furrowed her brows in concern.
Tris realized the infant on her chest had stopped feeding. She gently burped him, then as she began to carefully set him down in the bassinette beside her, Trisâs mother returned to the kitchen. Her face was white.
âWhatâs going on?â said Tris, wondering if someone had died.
âHeâs here,â she responded blankly.
âWho?â
âThe magicianâAdam.â
âIâwhat?â said Tris, stunned. The magician who had cursed the familyâthe one who was at fault for Trisâs monthly pregnancies?
âAdam is here.â
At first Tris thought it was a joke, but then she remembered that her mother rarely ever joked, if at all. Still, the thought was ludicrous. Adam seemed like some sort of spiritual being, not some person who showed up in the suburbs and knocked on your front door. âHow do you know itâs him?â Tris managed. This was just too much for her in her state. Couldnât this have waited another few days? Anxious, Tris rubbed her belly.
âI donât know, I can just feel it.â
Why this, why now? Wasnât Adam supposed to just beâgone. Dead, or something? Tris almost hadnât believed he was even real. âWhat does he want?â
âI donât know. To see you.â
âDonât let him in here.â
âTrisâŠâ
âIâll come out.â
The baby in the bassinette was settling, slowly falling asleep. Heart clenching, Tris tore her attention away. Planting her hands firmly against the kitchen table, she heaved herself up with a grunt. Her mother came up beside her in case she lost her balance.
Giving her mother a grim look, Tris waddled towards the next room. She thought of the awkward presentation she made. She was absolutely massive.
She felt flushed by the time she made it through the living room, where she regarded her guest at the front door.
For a centuries-old magician, Adam was shockingly young, evenâhandsome. Not that Tris saw him that way, it was just a blatant, irrefutable fact, as though Adam was strategically, or mystically attractive.
It was strange, the telling air he gave off. Yet somehow he looked like an ordinary twenty-something-year-old, with striking eyes, and dark hair. He was familiar. Tris was sure she had seen him before. Sort of in the background in different parts of her adulthood. Someone who she had never truly registered. Had Adam been watching her for a while?
And Tris could feel what her mother had. She could sense it somehow. It was him. It was fundamentally Adam. Tris could feel it in her being.
