Steve had assumed that sleep would be a reprieve from the discomfort of existing in his current body, but he’d had no such luck. As soon as his eyes closed, he found himself in a vague dream world, surrounded by the agonized cries of labor and the unrelenting presence of a small dragon squirming in his belly.
The dreams felt like they had lasted forever, and Steve was relieved to see light coming through his window when he finally opened his eyes. Still leaning back in his computer chair, Steve’s post-waking priorities were quickly decided for him by his new body.
The first issue was the overwhelming urge to piss and shit. Frankly, Steve was surprised that he hadn’t pissed himself while he asleep and he didn’t feel like breaking with that now that he was awake.
Fortunately, the floor in his apartment was all either wood or linoleum, which made it easy to scoot around in his computer chair. Rolling through his apartment, Steve came to the door to his bathroom, only to be confronted by another horrific sight.
To the right of the door was his bathtub, which should have been empty. What Steve saw instead was a white furred belly protruding out of a tub full of water. Laying in that water, with her head fully submerged, was the same skunk girl that Steve was now used to seeing.
Her butt was pressed up against the far side of the bathtub, with her legs sticking up along the wall. One of her hands was planted on the soap tray, almost as though she had been trying to grab at it, while her other arm dangled along the outside of the tub. Looking at her face, Steve saw the half lidded eyes and partially open mouth that told him everything he needed to know about her current situation.
The skunk girl had evidently tried to take a bath, only for the prodigious weight in her belly to pull her body towards the far end of the tub. Lacking the strength to pull her head out of the water, she’d downed.
Steve blinked and the tub was empty, but he felt the tinniest desire to take a nice, warm bath waft through his mind. He could only imagine how good the warm water would feel against his taut flesh, and he imagined that the skunk girl had succumbed to that same desire without realizing just how hard it would be for her to sit upright in the tub.
Steve just sighed as he scooted the chair against the toilet, well aware of how many routine tasks were now potential pitfalls that would result in either his death or labor – neither of which was an attractive proposition. Steve slid his body forward until his belly was touching the toilet tank, then spun around until he was facing the chair.
There was more pee than he’d imagined, but the process of going to the bathroom was otherwise a familiar one until he went to wipe himself. He initially started the toilet paper to the rear of his asshole, but then realized that he would be wiping straight into his… pussy. Steve closed his eyes as he cradled his belly with his free arm. He wiped the other direction, flushed the toilet, then transferred back to the chair.
Steve’s next concern was the aching his breasts, which continued to generate copious amounts of milk despite the fact that Steve hadn’t given birth to anything to drink it… at least not yet. Shuddering at how warm that last thought had felt, Steve scooted over to the bathtub, grabbed one of the plump nipples on his chest, and gave an exploratory tug.
Dainty fingertips gently massaged the tender nipple flesh cradled between Steve’s fingers as he felt a comforting warmth spread into the breast and a stream of milk splattered against the far side of the bathtub. Steve continued stroking the nipple as the warmth spread out into his body, forming into a relaxing blanket that seemed to cradle all of the aches and pains that he had been forced to endure.
Steve’s other hand began to rub at the nipple on one of his middle breasts, and the sounds of alternating streams milk splattering into the bathtub belied the feeling of joy that came with the temporary release of pressure as each nipple temporarily allowed some of the milk underneath to escape. He continued to milk himself as the world faded away, and Steve imagined the feeling of warm, greedy lips latching on to every one of his breasts.
God, he could feel the warmth of his nipples in each of their mouths, soaked in a mixture of saliva and his own milk, all while tiny lips rubbed against the tender flesh of his breasts. It was so warm, so comforting, and so right… Steve’s clit began to stiffen up as a thought entered into his head, “all I need is for my water to break, and then I can give bir…”
Steve forced the thought down and the sound of splattering milk came to an end. Still gripping his nipples, a familiar, sultry voice echoed through the bathroom, “it feels so good to nurse, doesn’t it?”
Turning his head, Steve saw the skunk girl standing next to the sink behind him, but the view of her middle and lower breasts was obscured by the skunk kit that she was swaddling in her arms. Steve felt its lips press into his breast as it latched onto one of hers, followed by that same pleasant warmth as its lips massaged her nipple and fresh milk flowed into its mouth.
“You want this, don’t you?” The skunk asked as she winked, “you keep pretending to be a man, but we both know what you are. You’re a mother, at least you will be soon.”
“No, I…” Steve tried to stammer, only for the skunk girl to cut him off, “No you what? Don’t want to be a mother? Don’t want to be give birth? That stiff little clit of yours says otherwise. You’re getting off on the idea of it – all of it. The feeling of your baby taking its first drink of fresh milk, of the joys of its head spreading your lower lips, of the water draining from your womb as your body springs forward on the journey towards motherhood.”
“No… I’m not… I’m not a girl…” Steve’s voice had diminished into a whimper of its former self. Despite his words, the feeling of that kit suckling from his breast caused his cunt began to grow warm and moist below his small, stiff clit. Steve wouldn’t admit it, not mentally, but the sound of his voice told him just how close he was to losing it, to admitting how much he wanted to be that skunk girl – to hold his baby as it nursed from him, all while his body prepared itself to accept another one into hi… her womb…
The skunk girl continued to cradle the nursing kit as she leaned over, whispering, “Not a girl? Tell me hun, do men have six lactating breasts? Because you do. And what about that warm little pussy of yours? Do men have one of those? Do men fantasize about giving birth, like you are right now?”
“No,” she said as she leaned in next to Steve’s ear, “you’re not a man. You’re a woman, and you’re about to be a lovely mother. All you need is for your water to break…” Steve saw the skunk girl begin to reach towards, “so, let me help you out with that.”
In that moment Steve’s resistance crumbled. He didn’t want to be a mother, to nurse a baby, give birth, or have his water break – but his body did. Steve the man had been a bastion of willpower, but Steve the pregnant anthro skunk breeding slave was a completely different thing. Steve’s estrogen charged body had no willpower of its own, and the little he had been able to muster wasn’t enough to overcome its built-in maternal instinct.
Steve wanted nothing more than to cradle the baby in the skunk girl’s arms, and the aroused pussy between his legs let him know just how badly his body wanted to give birth to it. If Steve had known that the baby inside of him was the same one that the phantom egging him towards motherhood was holding, there wouldn’t have been any way for Steve to resist. He would have just sat there, submissive and meek, as the phantom placed a finger into his cunt, pressed up into his cervix, and initiated the sequence of events that would have doomed him to this body.
But Steve knew that the phantom was lying to him – he knew that he didn’t have that phantom’s body. No, he was trapped in the body from the porn he’d seen on his computer. The thing inside of him wasn’t a kit, it was a dragon. He wasn’t going to get to nurse it. Hell, he’d be lucky if it didn’t eat him alive, assuming, of course, that he managed to give birth to it in the first place.
That tiny kernel of knowledge rapidly blossomed into a forest of resistance, and Steve battered the phantom’s hand away from his belly as he shouted, “No! I’m not a girl! I’m not giving birth! And you’re not going to make my water break!”
The phantom receded into the depths of Steve’s subconscious, and he found himself sitting in front of a milk splattered tub in an otherwise empty bathroom.