Steve decided to head inside, and walked through the birthing center’s entryway, revealing to him that the interior of the building was much different than it had been before. Instead of being a single open room, there was now a hallway that broke off into what were presumably birthing rooms on either side. Steve counted four in the front part of the hall, but beyond those the hallway split into right and left sided paths that Steve couldn’t see down.
The hallway was made out of cheap looking linoleum and lit by florescent lighting. It all spoke of building made by the absolute lowest bidder using the cheapest materials for the job. Still, it looked clean and sterile which, Steve realized, made sense since whoever owned this place probably didn’t want their slaves dying in birth.
A few more steps and you opened the first door on the right, which led into what was very obviously a room made to accommodate a laboring woman. In the center of the room was a birthing bed and, on top of that, with her legs spread as wide as she could get them, was Austin, the panting anthro bitch. From Austin’s distinct silence, Steve guessed that she was probably in between contractions.
Next to the table was a bunch of equipment, all connected to Austin by innumerable wires. From the look of it, Steve guessed that the machinery was monitoring Austin’s vitals but, beyond recognizing the telltale images and beeping of the heartbeat monitor, Steve couldn’t make out what any of the lines on the other displays said.
Standing beside to the bed were three very female and very identical rabbits with noticeably pregnant bellies. Each of them was dressed in what would have been a very stereotypical nursing gown, were it not for the hole in the front of their garments allowing their pregnant stomachs to hang out. Behind them was the only male besides Steve in the room – a rather short otter who was dressed in a doctor’s uniform with a stethoscope wrapped around his neck.
Sitting on benches along the edges of the room were the rest of the anthros. They were all wearing nothing more than a slave collar, and all looked very pregnant.
The anthro hen from earlier was panting as she sat as far as she could get from the egg that was now resting on the ground in the center of the room. She was leaning back in into the bench, which meant that her crotch was facing straight towards the door. Steve had expected that her vagina would still be gaping open from the egg she’d pushed out just minutes earlier, but it had tightened back up to the point that it wasn’t even visible through her white feathers.
Steve briefly wondered why the hen was sitting in such a weird position until he saw her using the wing-stubs that had replaced her hands to rub a belly that had already begun expanding again. She’d kept looking down at the belly, before closing her eyes and shaking her head as if to say, “no more eggs.” Then, as if she couldn’t quite comprehend the reality of her situation, she’d look back at her stomach and start the process all over again.
To Steve’s right was a very short, petite mouse woman covered in light beige fur. Multiple rows of small breasts ran down torso, each of which was decked with a thin but erect teat. The most notable thing about her, was that the mouse’s breasts continued and ran all the way down to her crotch.
The mouse girl was just staring off with a dazed look on her face, while the anthro fox next to her wrapped an arm around her shoulder. The fox girl was leaning into the mouse’s ear, and Steve could hear her repeatedly whispering, “It’s going to be ok, Matt. It’s going to be ok.”
The fox girl looked to be about the same size as Steve, which meant that she towered over her apparent friend, the mouse girl. But other than the fact that her fur was the same brilliant crimson color as the much more feral vixen from earlier, the only notable thing about the fox was that she was sporting a set of six lactating breasts, despite her heavily pregnant belly.
On the right side of the room, sitting up against what used to be the center’s plate glass window, was an anthro doe with two modestly sized breasts hanging off of her chest, but it wasn’t those breasts that was occupying the doe’s attention. Rather, her hands were currently playing with the pair of swollen, black, animalistic looking udders that were sandwiched between her thighs and belly.
The final 2 anthros that Steve could see, were a male lion with a nameplate reading “Leon”, and an alligator who was laying on a bench on the left side of the room. From the look of it, the alligators thick, scaly tail coming out of her backside, combined with the bulbous belly and two massive breasts on her front side had probably prevented her from being able to sit in any other position.
Unlike the other females in the room, the alligator’s body was huge – equal to if not bigger than the lion who was very large. The breasts were also a surprise, being at least an F cup size. As Steve looked at the black nipples that sat atop a checkerboard of green scales, he once again had a vague sense of déjà vu. It was like he had seen her before…
While none of them were in labor just yet, they were all very clearly at full term and ready to pop, though there was a significant disparity in the actual size of their bellies.
The mouse had the smallest bump underneath her stomach, which was no doubt a biologically necessary consequence of the positioning on the breasts running down her body – if her womb carried too big a baby, then it was entirely possible that the weight of her breasts would be too much for her skin to hold.
The doe’s stomach looked relatively normal for a woman who was nine months pregnant, while the others were clearly more oversized. That just left the cow and perhaps one other person, both of whom were absent from the room. Based on where the cow had fallen earlier, Steve guessed that she was probably in one of the rooms on the left side of the hall.
Steve knew that the other missing person likely hadn’t been spared a birth filled fate. Rather, that man turned anthro was probably the cow’s friend who, as the building had shifted, ran to help the cow, only to find their gender inverted as fur grew out of their skin and their new womb prepared to force them into experiencing the dubious ‘joy’ of motherhood.
You’re curious as to what happened to them, so you open your app to check and see if there are any good new prompts. But as you hit the “generate” button, something disastrous happens, and you get this sentence…
“The dyslexic man swaps bodies with the hen”
“Dyslexic?” You think to yourself. You quickly take a look back at the panting hen, and realize you really do NOT need this prompt to go through. She has E cup feathered breasts, a beak, and a stomach quickly filling with eggs. If you swapped with her, there is no way you could ever be swapped back! You quickly look down at your phone again to change the sentence, and immediately realize how fucked you are.
“Teh xcidlsey anm pwsas idesbo htwi het neh”
Is all you can make out quickly. You try to slowly read through it again, hastily think of what word to change, and start typing in a panic, but you quickly lose consciousness before you can hit confirm. The room spins around you and you feel a weird sensation, like your soul is being pulled away from your body. Your vision goes dark as you hear the frantic squawks of the hen and the concerned whispers of the other anthros in the room.
When you come to, you realize with horror that you can see your old body across the room, Your new body feels different, lighter, more fragile. You look down and instead of your usual human hands, you see two feathery wing-stubs. Panicking, you try to stand up, but the pain from your new oversized swollen belly is unbearable. You collapse onto the bench with a loud thud, gasping for air, your body now fully that of the hen.
The otter doctor rushes over, his furry paws gently placing you back down. “Easy there, you have your usual batch of large eggs coming, so you might as well get comfortable with it,” he says, his voice a soothing whisper that does nothing to calm your racing heart.
You look around, and everything on your body seems so much bigger. You can feel the weight of your new breasts, the feathers brushing against the bench as you try to adjust to your new form. The fox and the doe exchange worried glances, while the mouse girl, named Matt, looks at you with a mix of pity and terror in her eyes.
The alligator on the other side of the room seems to be watching you with a smug smile on her snout, her pregnant belly rising and falling with each deep breath. She whispers something to the fox girl, who giggles nervously, but the otter doctor shushes her, his expression stern. You struggle to focus on the conversation, but your thoughts are a jumbled mess of fear and confusion.
You try to speak, and say “Oh my God someone bring me my phone, I need to reverse this”, but all that comes out are a pained “BUUCAWWW”, and other avian noises. You realize that you can’t even communicate with them anymore, all you can do is respond with whatever noises your body is trying to make. Your mind is racing, trying to understand what happened and how to fix it. But the pain from the eggs growing inside of you is growing more intense by the second. You can feel them moving, stretching your new body to its limits.
And as the first contraction hits, you know there’s no turning back. The pain is unbearable, a crushing sensation that makes you feel like your new body is about to rip apart. You look around desperately for any sign of your human form, but all you see are the faces of other pregnant anthros, and you realize that the hen that’s now in your body, took off. Nowhere to be seen.
You know you need to push, but how? Your human mind fights against the instincts of the hen’s body. You’ve never given birth before, and certainly not as a creature that lays eggs! But the contractions are coming faster now, and with a primal scream, you feel the first egg begin to emerge from your swollen birth canal. Push after push after push, it then almost makes it to the halfway point.
You desperately try and grab at the edges of your cloaca to ease the pressure to get it that extra inch, but your sad excuses for hands that are now feathered nubs, are as useful as trying to use a stick. You try and give one big push on the edge of your cloaca with your wings to coax the egg out, but your nubs slip, and push the egg all the way back into your cloacial birth canal.
“BUHBUHCAWWWW!” You let out in agony, your body writhing under the pressure of the egg, feeling as if you were pushing a baby out, and then someone stuffed it back in just as you almost finished delivering it. Your body immediately begins pushing again, and takes another 20 minutes to get it back where it was, with more extreme effort and bird noises.
Finally, with a wet plop, the egg slides out. It's covered in a thick, clear mucus, and it’s huge. Much larger than you thought possible from a creature like yourself. You feel a wave of relief, but it’s immediately followed by dread as you feel more eggs pushing to take its place. You look at the otter doctor, pleading with your eyes for help, but he just nods and says, “Good job, just a few more on the way”. MORE? You let out a pained cry as you feel the next one begin to form…