"Ready!" Sarah concentrated, her left foot on the line, right foot back into the chocks, chest forward, arms ready to pump. Thoughts of Bronte left her as she eyed the finish line a hundred meters away. Her knees were sore, she was tired, and the sun glared in her face, but this was what she lived for.
BANG!
The starting gun went off, and all ten of the track team launched themselves down the track... at a waddle.
After all, they were all nine months pregnant. And had been since the age of 18.
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No one to this day knows why it happened. No one could explain it. Some believed it to be the work of God, or God's, depending upon religion. Some thought it was the government, an experiment gone wrong. Some thought it was aliens. No one of credibility took ownership. And no one was able to reverse it.
One day the world had woken up and every cow on the face of the Earth was gone. Vanished. Disappeared. Every single one. Farms were empty. It was a like they had never existed. In the blink of an eye across the globe they had ceased to be. And they never returned.
And then part two of the phenomenon had happened. Every woman from the age of 18 and up to menopause was now pregnant. But not just knocked up in the first month, oh no, they were all nine months pregnant with bellies about to pop. Their breasts swelled, hips grew wide, and every fertile woman on the planet was now a fecund princess. But they never gave birth - they just stayed pregnant. Whatever had caused this phenomenon had changed female biology as well. Men were still required to seed a woman, and only then after another nine months, would they give birth to the young they perpetually carried. Childbirth was now painless and easy, with births now typically multiples of three and four. It was like female fertility was an explosion.
So, with all cows now left from Earth, and now 50% of the population readily able to lactate, the world saw an opportunity and took it. Cow farms became female farms. Ran out of milk at home? Simply grab your wife, and milk her tits into your bowl of cereal. Cow milk was replaced by breast milk in the food markets. Women were producing as much as a cow ever had. The world economy recovered and carried on almost instantly after the change.
But for girls like Sarah, they still had their everyday lives. The fashion industry changed. Now it was all about showing off your belly, your giant tits of milk. Women suddenly became more matriarchal and more inclined to stay home and now raise their growing litters of children they birthed. Sarah was a dying breed. A woman trying her best to carry on in the old tradition, while the world changed around her. And even she was now struggling to resist her urges...
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Sarah checked her phone once more as she walked down the sidewalk, her anxiety now creeping in. She was late by about twenty minutes. She cursed herself as she tried to hurry up, but being nine months pregnant in heels meant there was only so fast you could go. Heels was one fashion trend Sarah silently wished had disappeared after the great change, but sadly it had endured. After a full day of training on the field, her ankles were feeling quite swollen as she clopped down the busy sidewalk headed to her destination. She had a date tonight.
Michelle has set her up with one of her boyfriend Julian's friends. Normally she would have been against the whole affair. She had her training and studies to concentrate on. But the last few months had been rough. Her long-time boyfriend Bobby had broken up with her. It had been so random, so unexpected, that she was left crushed. One day he had told her that he didn't expect it to last much longer, that he was bored, and he had left her all alone. She'd been in a slump ever since. Michelle had been trying to get her out of it. "You don't have to marry the guy just go out and have some fun!" She had said. She'd finally given and agreed to be set up.
And here she was, walking down the street, headed to her first date in years. She'd dressed appropriately as all women did these days. All bellies had to be on show. When every woman was nine months pregnant eternally, the belly had become the new fashion statement. Sarah wore a little denim crop top, tied at the front, which kept her heaving tits in place just barely. Every step made them bounce and nearly sent them flying free of their restraints every time. She wore a small pair of shorts, riding high up her thighs, with a white pair of suspenders that ran from the waist line and up over her shoulders. Her belly though was the real eye catcher. She'd stuck on a gold henna tattoo foil over her belly button, a rotating flower design, that took up the whole front of her belly. It was intrinsically detailed and was firmly attached that it would last the whole night even if she sweated profusely. In the middle of the tattoo she had her belly button pierced, with a small red encrusted jewel swinging from her popped out button. She had a young, youthful and hip feel to her. Perfect for her date.
As Sarah walked down the street, she couldn't help but notice all the other women she passed. All of them had their bellies out, tattooed or jeweled up, all wearing what would have been considered risqué clothes a few generations back. Women just didn't care for clothing anymore. It was an old tradition that was being thankfully being erased now. Women wore bras and panties because they had too, sometimes a shirt or pants, but nothing ever more than that. All they wanted was to be naked and free, birthing children in a field, being milked...
Sarah stopped herself. That wasn't what she wanted. She wanted to have her career, to be a track star for her country! To be a living birth factory, that was what other women wanted. Not her... but she had to admit, those thoughts were becoming stronger recently, as if her bodies hormones were kicking higher into overdrive every day. Still - she fought it. There would come a time for that later in her life. But right now, she had to make her date!
She found the restaurant, a small little Italian café on the corner of the street, and quickly waddled her way in. "Excuse me Miss, do you have a reservation?" A waiter greeted her as she entered, Sarah nervously surveying the room to find the man she was looking for. She'd been shown a picture by Michelle. Quite handsome. But in a sea of unknown faces, it was difficult to spot him.
"Yes, I'm here to meet a man named Peter Clapton. There should be a reservation under his name for Seven PM." She saw a clock on the wall. It was just about to hit seven twenty. She groaned. She hoped he was still here and hadn't left. She would have probably walked out by now.
"Ah yes - Peter Clapton." The waiter checked a leather-bound book by the door. "Please follow me ma'am." The waiter walked briskly into the dining area which was packed with customers, and Sarah followed behind, trying her best to keep up. The restaurant was packed with couples, well dressed men in suits and ties, eating with scantily clad pregnant women. He darted and weaved between the diners, walking through the chairs and tables, and Sarah nearly slammed her huge belly into a few of them as her massive size prevented easy maneuvering. The waiter was taking her all the way to the back of the restaurant to a booth in the corner, where a single man sat facing away from her in the little semi-circle.
"Here we go ma'am, your booth." The waiter stood by the seat, hand gesturing to the table and her date. The man sitting there noticed his company had arrived and quickly stood up, turning to face her, hands quickly buttoning up his suit jacket as he did.
The photos had not done him justice. He was taller, taller than her by a good foot, with a chiseled jaw line and a solid body that clearly spoke about his personal fitness. He was in very good shape. Jet black hair was immaculately cut, and his suit was pristine and trim, dark grey, with a bold green tie. What Sarah had not counted on was his age. He was in his mid-thirties at least, though still ruggedly handsome. At twenty years of age he was by far her senior. He was a friend of Michelle's boyfriend? Julian was still a kid himself! He was nearly old enough to be his Dad.
"Sarah? Hello." He smiled lopsidedly. His voice was deep. Sarah felt her heart flutter just a little.
"Sorry I'm so late! Training went late today." She was embarrassed, feeling her cheeks turn red. The waiter departed as briskly as he had arrived.
"Perfectly fine. These things happen. I'm just glad you came. Please - take a seat." He pointed to the part of the lounge opposite him. Sarah gave another embarrassed smile and nodded, moving past him. The table was thankfully a decent enough distance away from the lounge that she was able to squeeze her rotund belly in and still have a gap. As she went to sit down, Peter took her arm, helping her in and seating herself, smiling calmly. His grip was strong but reassuring. She felt her skin warm to his touch.
Making sure she was adequately comfortable, Peter returned to his side of the table, unbuttoning his suit jacket again as he entered the booth. "I hope Italian is OK. I've never been here before but every time I've walked past, I've seen it to be packed to the rafters. I find that to be a good omen - if it was terrible no one would eat here."
She patted her exposed pregnant belly. "Good thinking - I'm famished! After all I'm eating for four." She laughed nervously, silently hating herself. What a lame thing to say! She was embarrassing herself in front of this man!
But to her surprise Peter simply chuckled. "Then I suggest we order some appetizer's and get our appetites nice and wet."
That's not the only thing getting wet, Sarah thought. At least she'd kept that in her head and hadn't spoken out loud!
