Coed Turned Housewife Ch 06

Coed Turned Housewife, Ch. 6 - "The Big Talk"

The sixth in a series about innocent Chelsea Pelham and her handsome professor, Dr. Mark Benning.

***

Still naked and covered in sexual fluids in Dr. Benning's office - his office hours not even yet fully completed - Chelsea and her professor lover recovered for a half hour or so, snuggling as best they could on the short couch.

She grew more serious as he idly pinched her hard nips, her breasts miraculously full and pert like big soft balloons on her chest.

She was pensive that night. "Mark, what do you want from this?" She looked at him squarely.

"Like I said, honey, I want you to start wearing shorter skirts to the lab, for one thing. I need better access." He spoke authoritatively, but with a wry tone.

"No, I mean really." She was pouting now. "Are we dating? I'm really young for you, and I think a lot of the girls in the lab are angry at me. And I know Karen won't talk to me," she thought of her shy, meek and underdeveloped roommate, who had grown fully mute after the recent loud volleys or passionate fucking that had filled their shared apartment.

Mark turned to her, bemused. "Chels, what's the age difference between your parents?"

She shrugged. "I think 11 or 12 years, depending on the time of year."

He nodded. "I'm not even quite ten years older than you, honey. It's just that we're on opposite ends of our educations, so I guess that can feel like a gulf." He sat back, his eyes scanning the room reflectively. "Personally, I think it's the perfect age difference for a couple. You're suggestible and naive, I'm experienced and capable. Plus we look great together."

She frowned. She couldn't tell which parts of the monologue were sarcastic.

His eyes met hers. "Anyway, you told me you didn't want to have sex without marriage," he pointed out.

"Sex BEFORE marriage," she corrected. She reddened a little. "And I still don't agree with it. If my parents knew what I am doing, they would probably disown me. I could never show my face in church again." Her voice caught as she thought of being ostracized permanently from her family and church community back home. She was deeply pious, but her libido had temporarily won out over her commitment to the Lord.

"Well, what if we got married, Chels? Would it make everything alright?" He was holding her hand and not meeting the wondering gaze she shot at him.

"What! That's crazy!" She spluttered and giggled a little nervously. "I still have more than three years of college left, and you're working on your research. I'm too young to settle down!"

His face darkened a shade. "Even with the man you love? The man you gave your virginity to?" His voice had a quiet edge that pained her, but she felt so confused. Did she love him? She must, or she would not have responded so passionately to his every caress.

"Yes, well, I mean, no," she hesitated. "This has all been such a whirlwind. I still don't remember what happened that first night, or what I might have said. I'm sure I wouldn't have given my chastity away unless I really did...love you."

She was troubled by this talk. Their first encounter was still a mystery to her, as she had blacked out after a few drinks at a bar. She still didn't understand how their relationship had gone from a strictly platonic professor-student level to one of almost daily, illicit sex. She still wondered why had lost her memory so easily the first time she went out with him, and why she had woken up so sore between her legs the next morning. It was only when Mark had comforted her and taken care of her the following day - giving her soup, easing her headache, slowly initiating her to the alluring rhythms of lovemaking - it was only then that their relationship had begun in earnest.

"Well, yes," she continued, "so even before we got together, I DID had a huge crush on you" - his head whipped toward her expectantly - "but I didn't have any plans to act on it. I'm not sure how it all happened that you, mm, brought out this side of me."

Her voice lowered. "It's a side of myself I didn't know I had. You've made me a woman, like I'm not just a little girl anymore. If anything, I'm your little girl - your dirty little girl. I can't stop wanting you and wanting more of this." She licked her lips and cast her gaze down at his still-exposed cock. She reached out her small hand to trace the beautiful vein running down its length. He watched her silently for a minute, then grasped her hand in his.

"Hey. Chelsea. Look at me."

She looked up.

"What do you think is going to happen if we continue?" His voice had a coldness of tone that wounded and worried her a little.

"I...I don't know," she tittered. "We'll fall more in love? I haven't thought ahead that far, I mean, it's only been about a month," she pointed out. "I thought we could figure it out as we go along."

His serious gaze fixed her, his teeth set. "I don't mean what do you think will happen between us, I mean, what do you think will happen -" he lifted his hand and set it on her lower belly - "here." His larger hand covered where her uterus should be, the heat from his strong palm giving Chelsea a little flutter. She suddenly understood his meaning.

"Oh!" She gasped. "You mean a baby!" She felt uncomfortable. "Well, I - I'm not - I mean are you... " she was not very coherent. They had never discussed this topic. She had never discussed it with anyone, except when her mother gave her " the talk." When she was 12, her parents told her a baby happens when a husband and wife love each other very much, and God blessed the union. The mechanics had always been a little fuzzy thanks to years of conservative abstinence-only sex education.

"Well, Mark, let's say I can't even have one right now. I mean, are you sure you can?" She looked doubtful. "Wouldn't there already be a problem if we were able to?"

He looked incredulous. "I haven't had a vasectomy, if that's what you mean, Chels. I take it you're not on birth control. As for whether there would already be a problem, well, there already might be. YOU already might be..." His voice trailed off and he looked away. His hand remained on her, pressing gently against her womb.

"Why do you think that?" She swallowed hard.

He sighed. "Have you noticed anything unusual about these lately?" he asked, toying with the enormous pouting nipples that protruded from her huge jugs.

"Mm, actually, now that you mention it, yes! They hurt more lately, they're just so sore. They hurt like they did when I first came to the lab." A penny dropped. "They're growing again!" She wailed in distress.

He nodded. "Chelsea, in spite of what the lab gossip says, women's breasts usually stop growing after initial exposure. Your expansion should have stabilized two months ago. But I've been informally tracking rapid increases in your breast volume and circumference that is just plain abnormal for this plateau stage you should be in. And you've hardly been at the lab lately, since we've been so busy elsewhere together. What I'm saying is, I think you might be pregnant."

She felt the blood drain from her face. She hadn't really thought about it, except in the abstract, that one day she would of course become a mother. But what it meant and what it involved were never discussed in detail in her family, or at school. She felt afraid.

"Well, you might be wrong, Mark!" Her voice quavered. "Anyway, a baby is a gift from God. If I am going to be a mother, it's what God intended and I know my family will help me raise a sweet little girl or boy." She stuck her chin out. "Or the child could be adopted to a good Christian family. I could stay in school, that way," she added doubtfully.

Mark frowned and shook his head. "You don't understand, sugar. We don't know the implications of the hormonal effects that cause the breast growth we're tracking in the lab. I don't know how your reproductive system is affected. No one has become pregnant and brought a child to term since we began this research."

"So...what could happen?" She voice was weak.

He pursed his lips in a sad smile. "Well, honestly, we just don't know. You're our test case. Since we know the hormones are stimulated, we think the drug also has effects on fertility. My expectation is that conception could involve from three to four embryos, so at minimum a multi-birth pregnancy. It would be a difficult pregnancy. With so many babies inside of you, you could even be hospitalized for much of the term." He was rubbing her lower belly possessively now, his other arm cradling her against him.

"So I could be a mother of...four? Within the year," she said thickly. Her mouth was dry. "What about abortion!" She didn't really know what the word meant, but she knew it meant no babies.

He shifted and signed. He met her eyes but his voice was icy. "You don't even know what you're saying, Chelsea. Those are our...children. My children and yours. I want...I want them. And I want you."

She felt an emotional dam break loose inside of her. She lowered her eyes and hot tears started to flow down her cheeks. "I have to think about all this, Mark. It's just...it's just a lot to process." She sniffed. "We don't even know if I'm even pregnant, really. You're just always thinking the worst." As she inhaled a deep breath, the big expanse of her bosom contradicted her. Her breasts had never looked so huge, so swollen - so ready to nurture life.

Mark kissed the top of her head. "Honey, It's the holiday break a week after next. I want to be the one to take you home to see your parents. Tell them you're bringing me, but don't tell them anything else. Just ask for a guest room for your professor, don't answer any questions. We will talk to them, we will figure it out. I want you to wait to take a pregnancy test until we can really be sure, but I do want you to get one." She groaned, her eyes shut tight. "Before we meet your parents," he added.

They quietly kissed good night and she walked home across campus alone, her backpack strap digging against her large soft breasts in places she had never felt before. What would happen to her? She hoped Mark's fears were misplaced. Surely he was wrong about things occasionally.

The next morning she woke up unsteadily, and was sick before breakfast. And she knew he was right.