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by Иanophяeak on Sat Mar 13, 2010 1:55 am
Second Bulletin:
World Population comes in at 2,423,231,528 reproducers.
Reports of spies in UNAE commercial/residential areas are confirmed. Civilians are urged to be on the lookout but ordered not to engage.
Two hours later, Megan's eyes fluttered open, and with a great big yawn and much-needed stretch, she reluctantly awoke. Rolling over, her face, which had been facing the back of the plush leather sofa, swung over to face the rest of the room. One of the first things she noticed was that Myra was back. It was actually rather hard to notice, seeing as she was sitting on the coffee table, beautifully illuminated on one side by a green-and-red shaft of light from a nearby window.
Smiling, Megan sat up, slow and careful, the stiff muscles in her back complaining slightly as she pushed herself up. As soon as the place where she'd been laying was clear, Myra dropped her rainbow beaded purse on the floor and sat in the empty space, Megan immediately laying back down with her head in her lap. Immediately, Myra's soft, dainty fingers were touching her forehead, her closed eyelids, stroking her hair and cheek, lingering on her pinkish, rounded belly. This was a habit the two of them had fallen into since the baby had started moving around sometime late last month, and both still squealed like schoolgirls at every kick.
The baby nudged at them from the inside of Megan's womb.
Both girls immediately began giggling, interspersed with some "Eeeeee!"'s and "Ohhhhh!"'s.
It nudged again.
Quieter giggling, only a couple squeals, and Myra lowered her head, pressing it to Megan's stomach, cradling it with her hands as Megan was.
Another kick, and they just smiled at each other, looking as happy as two people can be.
After a few more minutes of silence, awaiting another kick, Myra kissed Megan's belly, then shifted over and kissed her again on her forehead before sitting up. "So, what'd you do today?" she asked, still speaking a bit softly from the tenderness of the moment, before her voice quickly roughened. "Work was terrible, I'm only on lunch break. There were these asshole Strongbots down from the building zone uptown, came in, made a mess, got really freaking loud, and then left a shitty tip. God, I swear, they must program the things to be stupid or something, because I honestly think a smart fucking Strongbot would be a malfunction. Sorry, little rant there."
Megan waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, you know, nothing. Just eating, pissing, and sleeping all day while little lady rearranges my insides."
Myra smiled. "A good day, then?"
"Definitely," Megan replied, smiling back.
Just then, a small, incessant beeping noise rang out from Myra's arm. She rolled it up to expose the small tattoo screen on the back of her wrist, which was incessantly flashing, "WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK," in alternating red and blue colors. Curling her fingers into her palm, the screen shut off, and she sighed. "Damn, have to go. I'll see you at five with dinner, kay?"
Nodding, Megan sat up, letting Myra stand up and kiss her once more on the forehead. As she picked up her purse, Megan swung her legs over, stood, and spoke up. "Actually, I feel like getting out a bit. I'll come with you and just sit at the bar and read or something. I'm tired of being cooped up in this house all day."
Myra thought for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, come on."
Getting down the street to the Rusty Shuttle Pub where Myra worked wasn't overly difficult for Megan, though the weight of her full womb did take a bit of the spring from her step as she slowly made her way down the street, cradling her belly as she enjoyed the early afternoon air. When they arrived at the bar, Megan suddenly realized how long it'd been since she'd been in public. She felt slightly self-conscious as she shuffled past a group of laughing dart-players, trailing as closely behind Myra as she possibly could.
When they reached the bar, Megan carefully pulled herself onto one of the tall barstools, which came up to about her belly button, feeling slightly ridiculous as she did so. Immediately taking out her book, she attempted to cover some of her embarrassment in the flipping of pages, while Myra had a quick word with her shift boss. Off to Megan's right, a mousy-haired waitress clipped a food order to the cook's list before starting to polish tables, and the dart-players to her right joked and laughed boisterously at their every miss. Sighing, Megan tugged her sweatshirt over her belly and buried her nose deeper in her book, feeling terribly out of place.
Last edited by
Иanophяeak on Sun Mar 14, 2010 7:51 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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