The Girl Who Cries Colors

Okot smiles and rests his large hands on my hugely pregnant belly. I look down at it and shake my head. “I was not this big with Amorette. It’s got to be your fault that I look like I’m growing a baby who’s part giant.”

He runs his palm over my belly button, caressing me with both adoration and awe. I’ll never get sick of that. Under his touch, the baby kicks, making both of us smile. “That was a strong one,” he muses.

“Gets stronger every minute. It’s like he or she is practicing kickboxing in there.”

“I’ll make you breakfast, my beloved.”

My stomach grumbles at the mere suggestion. “Mmm food. Yes, please.”

“Same thing as yesterday?” he asks.

I nod. “Yeah, but can I have extra garlic on the toast? And maybe some lime slices? Oh, and one of those eclairs. But not the cream-filled one.”

He nods, not even blinking at my strange food requests as he moves to help me down the hallway.

I shuffle inside to the toilet and pee, and the relief is so intense that it makes me shiver. Peeing is such an event when pregnant. I feel like my whole life revolves around my bladder these days. I even have to plan ahead of time for it. We want to go somewhere? Gotta pee before we leave. We get there? Have to use the bathroom. About to leave? Nope, I need to go sit on the toilet first. Even if I don’t feel like I need to pee, it’s a bold, bladder-faced lie. I sit down on the toilet, and pee comes out regardless.

I pee day and night, and am constantly in a state of, Oh my gods I need to go, or I’m gonna wet my pants. It’s all very hectic. It really keeps the guys on their toes, too. The moment we get somewhere, they’re in a panic, making sure they find a toilet ASAP. I would laugh…except that would probably make me pee.

Chapter 2

When I’m done relieving my bladder, Okot comes in and draws the bath for me, testing the temperature several times until he’s confident that it’s not too hot or too cold. He even pours in the lemon-scented soap that I like. I can’t use the lavender one anymore. If I catch one whiff, my gag reflex goes on high alert.

Okot gently removes my nightdress, and even though I’m as big as a boulder, he gathers me into his arms and lowers me into the water. It’s one of the rules in the house now that I’m so big. I had one too many near falls getting my fat ass into the tub, so one of them makes sure to always help me in.

Once I’m safely submerged, Okot leaves me to go prepare my breakfast. They learned when I was pregnant with Amorette that my voracious appetite didn’t slow down, but it did get a bit weirder.

I can’t reach my toes, or even my knees, so I just sort of flop a washcloth down over the general area and hope the soaking gets me clean enough.

Okot comes in a while later to help me out. After drying me off, he has me sit on the bench in front of the vanity. My genfins made everything in this entire den by hand, and the bathroom is one of my favorite rooms. Aside from the gorgeous tub, the window looks out onto the flower box. There’s just enough sunlight coming in to make the white-gray marble sparkle.

Naked, I sit on the bench and watch as Okot squeezes oil onto his hands and picks up my foot to start rubbing the oil into my skin. He works quietly and slowly, his large, callused hands working the oil into the arches of my swollen feet, up my calves and thighs, down my arms, and adding delicious pressure into my shoulders and aching back, before finishing with my belly.

It’s both relaxing and a turn-on. I don’t know whether I want to take a nap or jump him.

But really, why choose? I could totally do both.

I reach forward and take a fistful of his shirt, yanking him down and slamming his lips against mine. His septum piercing tickles my nose as I shift my head, my tongue flicking against his. A low sound of approval hums in his chest, and his hand comes up to surround my neck, the pad of his thumb dancing across my throat in a feather-light touch.

“Your breakfast will get cold,” he says against my lips, his red-ringed eyes pulsing with desire. I freaking love that look.

“Don’t care,” I say, pulling him back to me, needing his lips on mine. “I can re-heat the limes.”

He obliges, nipping and sipping at my bottom lip, catching it between his teeth and pulling just enough to sting deliciously.

When his oiled fingers trail down to my core and graze over my clit, I make a super embarrassing keening noise that I just can’t stop.

While keeping pressure on my nub, he slips two fingers inside of me, and I lose my grasp on his shirt. When I start to tip back, Okot slips his arms around me and hauls me up to my feet. I immediately brace my hands on the counter and push my ass out. It’s one of the only sex positions I’m still awesome at when I’m this pregnant, and the guys don’t complain one bit.

Okot loosens the ties of his pants and then drops them to his ankles. I watch in the mirror as his huge penis pops out like a jack in the box. And just like with a jack in the box, it both thrills me and scares me a little. His piercings glint in the light, and I lick my lips in anticipation.

“Gods you’re so freaking big. I still can’t believe you manage to fit that thing inside of me without ripping me in half.”

“I would never hu—”

His words cut off, and I look at him in the mirror’s reflection. My eyes soften when I see his expression. I know that look. He’s remembering when his mind was being controlled, and he attacked me. He’s remembering how he hurt me.

His eyes drop to my throat, as if he’s seeing his hands wrapped around it, choking the air out of me. It’s gotten better with time, but the memories still haunt him.