Being stressed: that wasn’t something Kelly handled particularly well, which was especially true when around colleagues. Doubly true when around colleagues who talked behind her back. The only way the Irishwoman knew how to beat her anxieties was throwing blows at a punching bag. If anything, she always looked the part - tight black shorts allowing her modestly sculpted calves and thighs to flex and breathe as she moved, hand-in-hand with a turquoise sports bra that had a hint of green at the sides that always reminded her of home across the pond, worn hand wraps covering her knuckles.
She was a raw fighter - and it showed. Sweat matted her otherwise perfect red locks and the back of her bra, barefooted strikes to the bag so powerful, it bent inward to one side as she pounced to her left, arms ever up and guarding. Boxing was something Kelly’s father would probably object to, given its violent nature, but it wasn’t her fault he could never see the defensive side of things, always the offensive. She learned to pace herself; her breathing always steady, strangely similar to the resting heart rate of a serial killer.
Moving in for another hit, she saw her father’s face in the bag, heightening the anger that already swelled within; the Hines’ were surely going to be behind bars sooner than they thought. They might be the central pillar to keeping Bridgewood on its feet, but pillars could always be replaced, rebuilt. The town would do better without them.
The voice was familiar, but admittedly a distraction from the one she already planned for herself. Kelly needed this time alone, but it looked like it was going to be interrupted anyway. She didn’t exactly hate Nick Dawes. It was just - her words of advice to him seemed to always fall on deaf ears, which was a pity because he was actually a good-looking guy.
“What is it, Nick?” Kelly seemed to up the pace of her routine, now always on the move, never staying at the one spot like she would otherwise be, easy to pick off, her breaths unyieldingly even. She hoped Nick’s reasoning for visiting was justified, not be there to perv on her like last time.
“It’s the Hines’. I caught them doing something.” The words were out quicker than Nick had time to process them. They were incriminating, to say the least, which would not particularly look good in his favour. But, he pulled out the camera in the hopes that it would be his trump card. “You won’t believe it either!”
It was hard to tell whether Kelly knew about the smile that crept along her lips. Besides, she was pretty certain the contents of the camera would, in fact, be believable, at least to her. Obviously, the townsfolk of Bridgwood knew what the Hines’ did, probably even the courts. But the detective didn’t plan on handing this crucial evidence to the Bridgewood tribunal. Rather, her mind was set on giving it to those even higher.
The video started off how Kelly predicted it would - Scott and Jordan porking Ruth. The total runtime of the video came up to two hours, enough footage to truly put the Hines’ behind bars. The orgasmic moans compelled Kelly to hastily turn the volume down as her eyes were glued to Ruth’s chiselled stomach swelling with cum at a rapid rate, creampieing her fast as an eye could blink. Kelly felt her stomach churn as a build-up of bile made itself known. If she watched anymore, it wouldn’t be sweat on her feet.
Nick snatched the camera from her and scrolled through the video until it came to the last few moments. Ruth’s cum-filled gut had somehow flattened, abs still prevalent and thick like bricks, but that wasn’t what got Kelly’s attention. Rather the fact Ruth had her back turned from Scott and Jordan and was injecting something into her clit.
Then everything seemed to change, the criminality of the Hines’ actions clear as crystal.
Kelly fought back the need to regurgitate her lunch as she watched Ruth turn to Scott and Jordan, her stomach swelling again, this time moving in a sort of flex-like motion, growing and taking shape in such a way that it almost looked like she was— “Is that a…baby?”
Nick stopped the video. He’d watched it a few times already in an attempt to get his head around it, but honestly, even now still couldn’t tell. He shrugged, clueless. “Maybe. Maybe not. I dunno.”
“I’ll take that.” Kelly snatched the camera off Nick and stashed it in her gym bag. It was crucial evidence against the Hines’. In fact, frankly, the only evidence. She had to be very careful not to lose it, and make sure to copy it at least once. Else it all amounted to nothing. “Would you mind making a statement?”
Nick knew better not to. What was he going to say? That he was perving on the Hines’ incestuous sex? That would make him just as guilty. He shook his head no with a condescending laugh. “Nah, you’re alright, Kelly.”
She knew he was expecting some form of reward for what was provided. There was an essence of predictability about him too, with the way he stared at her arms. Sighing dejectedly, she flexed her right arm to give Nick his reward. Her bicep equated to the size of a lemon, which was reasonable for someone like her, adorned with the gentlest layer of vascularity. To Kelly, it felt like she was whoring herself out, but this was the lesser of two evils.
“Not bad.” Nick squeezed the detective’s arm hard. It wasn’t long before he was too, but managed to hide it well enough. “A bit small for my tastes, but I’ll reckon you’ll get there in time.”
Kelly was irritated but managed to hide it. What was the point of Nick staring at her arm like a weirdo, hinting at the quick copping of a feel, if all he was going to do was be an asshole about it? “Anything else?”
“Can I get a quick flash of her tit?”
Kelly snapped. Keeping her pacing in check so as to make her point, she lunged forward to scare Nick away. The door slammed shut loudly, a sort of metaphor for the detective’s yet-lingering anger. She threw a blow at the punching bag, so hard that a small hole ruptured through it, sand pouring gently onto the mat. The sudden memory flash of her father’s face burned into her eyes.
She didn’t need the memories, but ironically, needed him, looking at the camera poking out of the gym bag.
Doctor Baisden pressed against Ruth’s gut gently with his thumbs, watching the writhing and squirming continue with reckless abandon. He wanted to pinch harder but was wary of the possibility that Ruth might feel some pain. The truth was she wouldn’t. The other reality was that as Baisden held his thumbs in place over the woman’s gravid gut, all he felt was pure muscle underneath.
“Judging by the rate of your development, I’d say you’re already approaching your second trimester.” The words that slipped from his tongue were odd, considering Ruth had only just started showing the signs of pregnancy only a few hours prior to the doctor’s arrival. It was an especially bizarre case of pregnancy, but he was mostly aware of the circumstances of the Hines’ lifestyle, which might’ve attributed to the one at hand. “If it’s maintained, you’ll no doubt deliver by the month’s end.”
Ruth was pleased by the news, to say the least. Being a mother again was, of course, her goal. But the bicep curls she was in the midst of seemed to take precedence of that moment. Jordan and Scott stood either side of the mother-to-be, ecstatic by the doctor’s pleasing revelation. It was odd for them to see her so casually work out whilst being evaluated, but it wasn’t to see her bicep veins snake and pulse with energy.
“Remind me of your family’s history of pregnancies. Perhaps there’s a pattern worth examining.” Baisden watched Ruth maintain the pacing of her curls and breaths, barely an inkling of sweat dripping from her naked body. She didn’t care much for clothes, wanting to let every inch of her gargantuan sexiness breathe and ripple. The eight hundred pound dumbbell groaned in her grip, whimpering in protest.
“Well, I married Hank back in nineteen-fifty. In fifty-two Scott was born, and Hank tragically passed in fifty-five, but I suspect that was owing to the fact I was on top of him, crushing his bones and lungs.” Ruth let the dumbbell slip from her fingers and drop to the floor with a heavy thud. The ground cracked slightly but that could easily be repaired. Besides, it wasn’t the first time that happened. “When Scott turned eighteen, he and I started tussling. We conceived Carolyn in nineteen-seventy-two.”
“Jordan and Kendall were born through Scott and Carolyn in nineteen-ninety-three, correct?” Baisden revealed a stethoscope hidden away in a perfectly preserved Samsonite briefcase. It was time to check on the baby’s health, although he was pretty sure things were going to be okay. “Which means every generation of your family since the fifties was born through—”
He quit while ahead, knowing he was right anyway. Besides, he was being paid triple the usual amount to keep his mouth shut about it. Truthfully, it wasn’t the first case of inter-family breeding Baisden had to deal with but was when it came to the fastest developing. Removing the stethoscope, the good news was the baby was in good health. The picture of health, actually.
“You said something about Jordan and Scott being the father?” Baisden’s confusion only grew stronger the more he repeated the question back to himself, not sure what Ruth meant. Maybe she didn’t know who the father was because she was fucked by them both often enough it was impossible to tell. At least, that’s what the doctor thought. The truth was so much different. “Care to elaborate?”
“Baisden, you’re being paid to examine my baby, not ask questions you don’t want or need the answers to. Especially when you already know them.” Ruth felt the harshness of her words was needed, not wanting to divulge the true nature behind the rapidity of her pregnancy. She just needed to know the gender and state of health of the infant inside her, things she couldn’t do on her own. “So - how is my baby?”
“In perfect health. She’ll be a big one, that’s for sure.” Baisden packed the stethoscope into the case, admittedly thankful the job was done. He felt a dram of whiskey was in order for helping the Hines’. He was especially thankful for the thick wad of cash handed to him by Scott. “By the time you deliver, it could very well be like you’re carrying triplets.”
“And the midwife?” Scott came between Baisden and the door, blocking the way out. The doctor saw the oddly large bulge in Scott’s pants and gulped, mistaking it for an erection when in truth, it was just the abnormally large cock and balls he was lucky enough to possess, thanks to his mother's milk.
“I’ll be sure to send her within the week of the delivery.”
“Oh, and and be sure to drop in a breast pump when you next visit.” Ruth chuckled lightly as she watched Jordan apply oil to her cobbled abs, giving them a golden shine alike the Buddha. “The last one broke when my pec swelled.”
Braisden paused, seemingly hesitant. But he knew better than to object to the one family that helped him keep food on the table, even if what they were doing was wrong in every sense. “Of course. That’d be Thursday then.”
“Precisely.” Ruth’s one-worded response was enough to help get her point across: Be there. She watched the doctor slip into the gap Scott made, allowing him to make a quick escape, before patting her gut invitingly. “Come meet your daughter, my big, strong men.”
Kendall huffed angrily as she brought the dumbbell up for what had to be her next kneeling row. Truthfully, she’d lost count hours ago, distracted by the revelation made to her a few hours ago: Grandma was pregnant? It pissed her off so much her lip bled when she bit it. Kendall stuck true to the family’s ways for years, waiting for the fateful when she and Jordan would conceive a child of their own one day. But that plan was now clearly scuppered by Ruth’s pregnancy. It especially pissed Kendall off when aware of Jordan’s hope that Ruth’s child was more his than Scott’s. The family didn’t often argue over much, so Kendall hoped they wouldn’t start now.
“Fucking Jordan.” She heaved the weight again, purposefully wincing with strain, feeling the overbearing nine hundred pound block of metal tug, strain and pull just about every muscle in her arm from delt to wrist. Kendall was never usually this angry, but when she was, it was typically diffused through passionate lovemaking with her brother or father. Sometimes both. “Always thinking with his dick.”
As angry as she was, Kendall couldn’t deny the sense of delight flutter within like the wings of a butterfly. She was going to be an aunt, something the family considered to be the next step up from a mother. Be that as it may, there was something oddly profound about being gravid. It wasn’t a total loss either. Perhaps Kendall could mother a child through her father? He often talked in a way that interest certainly oozed from his voice. So long as the family remained pure….
The dumbbell rolled across the mat as Kendall pulled her arms up into a flex, listening to the taut muscle fibres careen to the surface of her sweaty skin. She wanted the pregnancy to be natural though, take place over the standard nine months, as opposed to the single month her grandmother would go through. That wasn’t to say Kendall hated the rapid development. It was just, she wanted to appreciate the child that would grow within her. It was hard to tell whether Ruth felt the same way right now.
“HNNNGGHH! Pulling into a crab most muscular, her train of thought continued. Her mother Carolyn suggested interest in bearing a child or two with Jordan, but that plan, much like Kendall’s, was most likely derailed by the fact she would be a grandmother by the month’s end. A little rest period though, and Carolyn would probably set her original plan back in motion. Kendall by comparison was a little impatient in that regard - she was insistent on having a kid with Jordan soon as he was finished with his home studies a few weeks back. Her speculated low-level OCD might’ve contributed to the disappointment, always standing her ground on the way things had to be done.
She watched her chest veins roll forth, pulsating and moving in such a fashion that it looked as though they danced under her skin. It was an ever-arousing sensation to feel that happen, like a hand running across coarse sandpaper, so powerful that her pussy lips parted in excitement, revealing the abnormally muscular inner cavities she’d spent years fingering and others spent penetrating. The love juices seemed to just pour out without so much as a need to tease herself any more than she was already cranked up with all the arousal already coursing through her. The gym mat turned from aqua blue to jet black in mere moments, like a mini canal gate rupturing to let the flooding waters burst free. “UUUHHH,..!”
It wasn’t long after that Kendall stood in her own body fluid, the mammoth blonde resisting the urge to burst into a small chuckle. She loved it when that happened, even more so when someone was there to see it.
Then that lewd thought crept back to the front of her mind. Just where was her father anyway?
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