Pregnancy Rivalry: Biggest Bump, Most Babies, First Labor

Noelle watched Katarina cross the strip of grass between their houses and felt the old heat rise under her ribs, meaner now that it lived in her body. She was thirty-two, eleven days past due, and her belly rode so high and hard under the stretched cotton of her shirt that she had stopped pretending shirts still fit. Katarina, thirty-one and twelve days overdue, moved with the same stubborn sway, one hand cupped beneath a dome that caught the late light and threw it back. They had been neighbors and rivals since high school, when the fight was grades and who could make the honor roll look accidental. Degrees came after that, then outfits, jobs, and the houses set so close their driveways nearly kissed. Noelle had married Theo. Katarina had married Everett. Each wedding had been a scoreboard. Each promotion had been a dare.

The pregnancies were deliberate. Noelle had gone to Theo and asked to be filled until she could not be mistaken for anything but winning. Katarina had done the same with Everett, and they had said so to each other's faces on the porch, laughing until the laughter went thin. Biggest bump. Most babies. Most milk. And once they were both overdue and still walking, who could go into labor first without having folded early. The contest had stopped being a joke the first time Noelle caught herself wet just from watching Katarina's belly shift when she bent to pick up the mail.

They had measured each other in the driveway last week and refused to say the numbers until both were flushed. Milk had started early for both, and they had turned that into a dare, pressing palms to each other's chests on the porch, grinning when the fabric went dark. Now the due dates had come and gone. Neither woman had felt a real contraction, and both of them were furious and aroused about it in equal measure.

She opened the door before the knock landed. Up close, Katarina's shirt was knotted under her breasts, and the belly beneath it was enormous, taut, navel thrust out, skin shining and traced with veins. Triplets, she had crowed. Noelle had answered with quadruplets and watched something hungry move behind Katarina's eyes.

"You're late," Noelle said.

"You're later where it counts," Katarina said, and her gaze dropped to the two dark blooms of milk already soaking Noelle's shirt. "Those look like they're losing."

Noelle's cunt clenched. She stepped aside. The living room held them both, gold light on the rug, the low table pushed back days ago because neither of them could get close to it anymore. Their bellies led. Everything else followed.

Katarina did not sit. She could not sit the way she used to. She planted her feet and lifted the knotted shirt higher, baring the whole swollen architecture of herself, and turned so the light hit the curve. "Measure me," she said. "You've been dying to."

Noelle fetched the tape from the drawer where she had started keeping it like a sex toy. Her own belly shoved against Katarina's hip as she stepped in, and the contact sent a shock straight down between her thighs. She looped the tape under the hanging weight of Katarina's belly and drew it snug. The number made her mouth go dry. Katarina watched her face and smiled with all her teeth.

"Bigger than Tuesday," Katarina said. "Your turn."

Noelle hauled her shirt up. The air on her bare bump made her nipples tighten, and milk beaded, then ran, hot little trails over the upper slope of her belly. Katarina's breath caught. She measured without asking, fingers lingering, thumbs stroking the tight skin as if she were checking a rival's engine. Veins stood out under Noelle's surface, blue and branching, the whole belly drum-hard with four. Katarina pressed her palm flat and felt a kick answer her.

"Show-off," she said, but her voice had gone rough. "Mine are heavier. I can feel them stacked. You'll pop first because you can't hold them."

"I'll hold them until you beg," Noelle said. She caught Katarina's wrist and dragged that hand lower, over the underside of her belly where the skin was hottest, then up to her breast. Milk welled into Katarina's palm at the first squeeze. Noelle moaned, filthy and unashamed, and squeezed Katarina's breast in return. A jet striped her wrist. "That's nothing. I've been leaking through three shirts a day. Theo can't keep up. I wake up in a puddle and think about your mouth."

Katarina laughed, shaky. "Everett's been sucking me dry and I'm still ahead. Look." She dragged a thumb across her own nipple and showed Noelle the gloss. Then she put both hands on Noelle's belly and leaned in until their bumps kissed, a soft obscene press of overstuffed flesh. "I'm going to get bigger than this. I'll make him put another in me if I have to. You'll see me from the street and soak your panties before you even get the mail."

Noelle rocked into the contact. The pressure of belly on belly shoved everything inside her tighter, babies shifting, cunt throbbing. She spread her fingers over Katarina's bump and felt the living weight of it, the heat, the way it shoved back. "Touch me like you mean to lose," she said. "Or take your clothes off and prove you can take me."

Katarina's eyes went dark. "Floor," she said. "I want your belly on mine. I want to feel which one of us is actually winning."

They stripped without grace. Shirts fought over bellies and lost. Panties peeled down thick thighs, already ruined, strings of slick catching the light before they snapped. Noelle's breasts hung heavy and veined, nipples dark and dripping in steady beats. Katarina's were fuller, glossy, a bead trembling at each tip until she moved and it fell. They lowered themselves to the rug with the careful, graceless urgency of women who could not bend the old way, bracing, panting, bellies leading them down until they were on their sides and then, with a shared grunt, pressed front to front.

The first full contact of bump to bump knocked the breath out of both of them. Tight, hot, enormous, the two domes met and fought for space, skin dragging on skin, kicks fluttering against kicks. Noelle rolled her hips and felt her cunt smear open against Katarina's thigh. Katarina answered with a grind that mashed their bellies harder, a slick sound, a helpless sound.

"God, you're huge," Katarina said, and it was not a compliment she wanted to give. She got a hand between them and palmed the underside of Noelle's belly, lifting, weighing. "Feel that. Four and you're still this tight. Mine's heavier. Mine's going to drop first and you're going to watch."

"Liar." Noelle caught a leaking nipple in her mouth and sucked. Milk hit her tongue sweet and thin and hot, and she groaned around it, swallowing, pulling harder, her free hand shoving between Katarina's thighs to find her soaked and open. Two fingers slid in easy. Katarina jerked, belly shoving into Noelle's, and milk sprayed against Noelle's cheek when she lost the latch. "Your cunt says I'm winning. Listen to it."

She fucked her fingers in deep, curling, while Katarina got her mouth on Noelle's other breast and drank like she meant to empty her. The pull went straight to Noelle's womb, a heavy ache, not a contraction, just the obscene fullness of being used and measured and wanted. Katarina's tongue worked the nipple, greedy, competitive, swallowing loud enough that Noelle laughed and then moaned when those fingers found her clit and rubbed mean little circles.

"Who's heavier," Katarina mumbled against wet skin. "Say it. My bump's bigger. My milk's thicker. I'm going to labor first and you're going to be stuck here overdue and jealous with your thighs wet."

"Yours is all show." Noelle added a third finger and felt Katarina clamp down, gush around her knuckles. She ground her own belly down harder, using the weight of the quadruplets to pin Katarina's triplets, the two domes compressing, babies shifting in protest and pleasure. "Feel that. That's four. That's me sitting on your whole competition. You're going to cum on my hand before you get a single contraction, and then you're going to beg me to let you labor first just so you can claim something."

Katarina snarled and shoved her onto her back as much as the belly allowed. They ended half-reclined, shoulders on the rug, hips angled, and Katarina swung a thigh over and fitted them together cunt to cunt. The scissor was clumsy and perfect. Their swollen lips kissed, slippery, and the first grind dragged clit over clit while their bellies stacked and pressed, a hot crushing weight that made both of them cry out. Their overdue wombs shoved together until both of them whimpered at the pressure, skin drum-tight, veins standing out where the bumps mashed. Milk ran down Katarina's belly and pooled where the curves met Noelle's. Every rock smeared it wider.

Noelle got her hands on Katarina's hips and pulled. The friction was filthy, wet sounds filling the room, pussy sliding on pussy, bellies taut and veiny and shining with sweat and milk. Katarina braced a palm on the rug and rode the angle, chasing it, trash still falling out of her mouth because she would not stop competing even while she shook.

"Overdue and dripping like a slut," she panted. "Your due date was a suggestion. Mine's going to break me open first. I'm going to feel it start while I'm cumming on you and you're going to lose."

"Then cum," Noelle said, and reached down to spread herself, to get more of Katarina's slick cunt against her own, fingers slipping in alongside the grind to fuck them both in messy tandem. "Cum on the bigger bump. Cum knowing I carried more and I'm still not popping. I'm going to hold these four until you scream and then I'm going to labor so hard the whole street hears me beat you."

Katarina broke first. Her body locked, belly going rock-hard in a clench that was not labor and was better, cunt pulsing against Noelle's as a flood spilled between them. She moaned Noelle's name like an insult. Noelle ground through it, fingers working, and the clamp and the crushing weight of that rival belly tipped her over. She came with a raw sound, thighs shaking, pussy gushing, milk jetting from both nipples in pulses that striped them both. She kept rubbing, dragging a second wave out of Katarina, who bore down with a broken laugh and punished Noelle's clit until Noelle came again, shorter, sharper, soaking the rug. They stayed locked, grinding through the aftershocks, mouths open, eyes on the huge throbbing domes pressed between them, neither willing to stop first.

They collapsed sideways, still belly to belly, too wrung out to separate. Sweat cooled on their shoulders. Milk smeared their chests and the upper slopes of both bumps, drying tacky in the gold light. Noelle's thigh twitched against Katarina's. Their cunts still kissed, oversensitive, a last weak pulse making them both hiss. A thin thread of milk slid from Noelle's nipple onto Katarina's collarbone and neither of them moved to wipe it. The bellies throbbed between them, huge and hot and alive, kicks answering kicks as if the contest had moved inward.

Katarina's breath dragged. She pressed her forehead to Noelle's and smiled, wrecked and already sharpening. "That wasn't labor," she said. "I still win the wait. You'll feel the first real one and fold."

Noelle laughed, hoarse, and palmed the sweat-slick curve of Katarina's bump, feeling it jump under her hand. "Mine's heavier. Next round we see who starts contracting while she's still stuffed full of the other one's cum. I'm not due to lose."

Their massive bumps kept throbbing, skin tight, milk still beading, and the argument was already turning into the next dare before either of them had caught her breath.