Family photo (breeder story) (Patreon)

Chapter 1: The Photo

The kitchen felt heavy, the silence stretching so thick it was almost oppressive. Evelyn sat rigid at the table, staring at the photograph her mother had slid in front of her.

At first glance, it looked like any other old family photo: a sunny beach, a group of smiling women standing barefoot in the sand, their dresses billowing slightly in the breeze. But Evelyn’s eyes were immediately drawn to the woman at the center.

The sheer size of her was impossible to ignore. Her belly stretched out in front of her, swollen to proportions that didn’t seem real. The smooth, taut curve of her skin glistened in the sunlight, a monumental dome that dwarfed the other women standing beside her. Evelyn couldn’t help but notice the comparison—those other women, each heavily pregnant with their own large, round bellies, looked almost small in comparison.

Her mother, Maria, stood among them, her hand resting on her own prominent belly, which was likely in its ninth month. Even then, she looked almost petite next to the woman in the center, who seemed like she could have swallowed Maria whole. The enormous woman radiated confidence, her smile glowing, her hands pressed protectively on either side of her impossibly stretched abdomen.

Evelyn felt her stomach churn as she studied the photo. It wasn’t just surreal—it was grotesque, fascinating, and terrifying all at once.

"This… this can’t be real," Evelyn said finally, her voice shaky. "That’s you in the photo, isn’t it?"

Maria nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. "Yes," she said simply.

Evelyn leaned back, running her hands through her hair. "You expect me to believe that you—that anyone—could get that big? You look like you could fit a car in there!"

Maria raised an eyebrow but didn’t rise to the bait. "It wasn’t a car," she said calmly. "It was seventy-six babies."

Evelyn froze, her heart skipping a beat. She let out a short, nervous laugh. "You’re kidding, right? Seventy-six babies? That’s not… that’s not possible!"

"It’s the truth," Maria said, her tone steady and firm. "It was my largest pregnancy. At the time, no one thought I could survive it. But I did easily."

Evelyn shook her head, her eyes darting back to the photo. The sheer size of her mother’s belly seemed even more absurd now. She couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to be that large, to carry so much life inside of her. Her mother’s stomach in the photo looked as though it could have swallowed a dozen grown men and still had room to spare.

"You… you look like you’re about to tip over," Evelyn muttered.

Maria’s lips twitched slightly, though her expression remained serious. "I felt that way sometimes. The weight was… indescribable. Every movement was a struggle. But I carried all seventy-six to term."

Evelyn stared at her, her mind racing. She imagined herself standing on that beach, her body transformed, her belly swelling outward until it consumed her line of sight. The image was so vivid it made her shiver. She thought about what it would feel like to have so much life growing inside her, the sheer weight pressing down on her, the constant movement of dozens of tiny lives squirming and kicking.

To her horror, a strange, fleeting tingle sparked in her lower abdomen. Heat rushed to her face, and she quickly shoved the thought away, disgusted with herself.

"You’re crazy," Evelyn said quickly, her voice sharper than she intended. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, trying to push the strange feeling down. "That’s insane. You can’t expect me to believe that anyone could… could do that."

Maria leaned forward slightly, her expression softening. "I know it’s a lot to take in," she said gently. "But this is real, Evelyn. It’s not just about what I did. It’s about you."

Evelyn stiffened, her pulse quickening. "What are you talking about?"

Maria gestured toward the photo. "Your bloodwork came back last week. It showed that you’ve inherited the same genetic potential I have. But yours is stronger. If you ever chose to, you could carry more than I ever did."

Evelyn’s stomach lurched the tingle rushed back stronger. "What the hell does that mean? More than seventy-six? That’s not—" She broke off, shaking her head violently. "No. That’s not happening. I’m not… I’m not going to be like that." She jabbed a finger at the photo, her voice rising.

Maria stayed calm, her hands folded neatly on the table. "I didn’t think I’d ever do it either," she said. "But when the time came, I didn’t have a choice. The world is different now, Evelyn. People like us… we’re rare. And when the world finds out about your potential, they won’t give you a choice, either."

Evelyn pushed back from the table, the chair scraping loudly against the tile floor. "No," she said firmly, shaking her head. "That’s not going to happen. I’m not going to be some… breeder."

"You think I wanted this?" Maria said sharply, her voice cutting through the tension. "You think I enjoyed being paraded around like a miracle while I was carrying enough weight to crush my own bones? You think I wanted to give birth to seventy-six children, most of whom I never even got to see again?"

Evelyn froze, her breath catching.

Maria took a deep breath, her tone softening. "I kept you because you were my last. My miracle. I wanted to protect you from this, Evelyn. But the bloodwork changes everything. I needed you to know the truth."

Evelyn stared at her mother, her chest heaving. Her thoughts raced, the image of her own body swollen to impossible proportions flashing in her mind again. That strange tingle came back, just for a moment, before she crushed it with a wave of disgust and fear.

"I don’t want this," Evelyn whispered.

Maria’s gaze softened, but there was no pity in it. "I know," she said quietly. "But it’s part of who you are. You can’t run from it."

Evelyn turned and walked out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Maria stayed seated, her eyes lingering on the photo. The woman in the center—her younger self—smiled back at her, her enormous belly casting a shadow across the sand. Maria ran her fingers along the edge of the photo, lost in thought.

This wasn’t the end of the conversation. It was only the beginning.