This scene is a continuation of the "in a dystopian world" series. TL;DR: a soldier knocks up an unmarried woman to make her comply with the one child policy in the new world order. Now she’s coming back for more.

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I haven’t seen you in a couple of weeks, I think. No, it must be months. I lose track of time quickly because my days look the same. As do my weeks, months. Day in, day out, I get up early at the station, run with the guys, have breakfast, head out to tour the city, take care of some bullshit, and then come back after the sun goes down. Every goddamn day. It pays well. And we’re being told that someday, things will get better. Someday, we’ll all get to build our own houses in the country, take a wife, and have families.

I long for that day.

The sun is about to rise, and the sky is tinged in pinks and blues when my colleague and I gear up to head out. The gates open, military vehicles drive out, others drive in. It’s quite busy at this time of the day, with shifts switching. And it's my absolute favorite. The calm before the storm. I start driving when I spot something strange at the side of the entrance. A soldier is speaking to a woman. A pregnant woman. It takes me a moment to realize that...holy shit, it’s you.

Frowning, you shake your head at him, hand on your belly. You seem distressed, frustrated even. I stop the car much to my colleague's confusion. “Hold on,” I tell him, pull over and get out.

When the heavy door of the vehicle drops shut, I get your attention.

My pulse is racing at the sight of you. Is everything alright? What did you tell him? Did you tell him it’s my baby? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“That’s him,” you tell the man and point at me. My heart skips a beat before you say: “That’s my brother.”

God, thank fuck you’re a smart one.

“What seems to be the problem, sir?” I ask.

“This fine lady…” the guy starts, his face twisting with annoyance, “refused to move off the site until she spoke to you.” My heart is still throbbing heavily inside my chest when I nod at him.

“I’ve got it from here, thanks.”

“Alright then. Have a good shift.”

“Thanks…” I wait for the soldier to be out of earshot when I turn to you. “What are you doing here?” I ask under my breath. The stare you fix me with makes the hairs on my body stand up.

“You…” you blow out a frustrated, long breath and then slide your hand under your round belly. Oh my God, it’s huge. Way bigger than the last time I saw you. Proper round, and a little lower. “Listen to me, soldier,” you snap at me, “I was due last week, but your goddamn child isn’t coming out.” Okay…? I'm sure you can see the confusion on my face when you continue: “You started this. Now you end it too.”

Frowning, I ask you: “How?”

The eye roll you give me makes me borderline mad. “How?” you nearly raise your voice but then decide to keep it quiet. “You’re going to fuck it out of me, that’s how,” you whisper sharply, eyes fixed on me. A rush of heat rolls through me from head to toe. What? “You think I waddled my way all the way over here and took a fucking bus just to tell you that your son hasn’t been born yet?” God, you’re mad. You’re practically hissing every word. “You take me home. Now. And then you fuck me until this baby is coming out.”

Does that even work? I wonder. Fuck, I have no idea.

You raise your eyebrows at me, awaiting an answer, so I look over my shoulder to my colleague. I’ve not taken a personal day in a year, but this seems like the right time to do it. “Wait here.”

I tell him that you, my sister, need a hand with carrying up some furniture for the baby she’s about to have. There’s no one else to help you. I ask him if I can drive you back in one of the cars we have at the station. He makes a call through his earpiece while I look over at you. Both of your hands rest on top of your belly. You rub it gently, making a surge of arousal shoot toward my groin. What the hell is wrong with me… All I’ve been able to jerk off to was the memory of the last time we met. And the time before that. The sex…and then the breastfeeding. It still makes me shiver from head to toe. It still feels so taboo that I am getting off to this, but I just cannot help myself.

“You can take a personal day and drive her back,” my colleague suddenly states, snapping me out of my daydream. I look at him and nod, then clap my hand onto the side of the truck.

“Thanks, I’ll get going. See you tomorrow.” I call you over next. When you waddle (your expression, not mine) over to me, it starts to sink in how much you’ve grown in the last few months. Your shape is so different from the last time we met. All that weight in front of your body makes you lean back slightly. Christ.

I drive you back in one of the military’s SUVs. You don’t speak a word. You're very clearly seething with rage directed toward me. I can feel it in the air, prickling like electricity. “You made me this way,” you’d snapped at me when I helped you get inside the car. Jesus. Yeah… I did. You’re like this because my seed took.

The elevator isn’t working at your building when we arrive. So I carry you up. One arm under your knees, the other behind your back. Bridal style. You’re way heavier than the last time I picked you up. Carrying you up two floors is definitely not the easiest job I’ve ever done, but I get it done. I'm not a soldier for nothing.

Inside your apartment, you peel the shoes off your feet because you can’t bend down. I stand and watch. You’re wearing a dress, as always, the front of the fabric is much higher than the back. I gulp at the sight of your pregnant body in private. I take in every curve of your body until you close your eyes. You stand still, both hands on your lower belly.

“He’s…kicking,” you mutter. “Your goddamn demon child,” you add quickly and then move toward the bedroom. I decide to take off my boots and jacket. It’s still the morning. I don’t know how long this will take. For all I know, it will take all day.

In the bedroom, you peel off your dress. I stand in the doorway, my breath slowly turning shallow and my arousal peaking when you reveal your 9-month pregnant belly to me. And your breasts…Christ. You’re not even wearing a bra. I’ve never seen breasts that big. They are so swollen that I can see the veins under your skin, nipples large and dark pink. I rub a hand over my face.

Naked, you stand before me. I cannot help but stare. Can you even have sex in this state…? My God.

“You like what you did to me, soldier?” you ask me, your tone suddenly sugary sweet. My chest rises in a slow inhale. Your hands rub large circles over your belly before tracing your obscenely pushed-out belly button. My dick begins to harden. My God, look at you. I close my eyes to regain some control, to be able to think.

“Open your eyes,” you demand sharply. So I do. I’ve never been bossed around by a woman before. But I guess you get to. Because you’re over 9 months pregnant with my son. Next thing I know, you turn and slowly lift one knee onto the edge of the bed, then the other. You get on your hands and knees, showing me your pussy. Looking over your shoulder, you say: “Now do your job, big, brave soldier.” The way you mock me sets my nerves on fire.

It feels like I’m in a dream. The way I move is slower than usual, my senses dulled. This can’t be real. Your large belly touches the bed when you rest your elbows on the bed, knees on the edge of the mattress. I blow out a breath and step closer. “I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you,” I manage as I unbuckle my belt.

Glancing back at me again, you say: “You’ll pound this baby out of me, do you hear me?” Our eyes meet for a long moment. You’re not messing around. You’re serious.

“Yes, miss.”

Your pussy is already glistening, creamy wet, when I set my cock right against your slit and begin to sink in. The loud sigh you exhale nearly makes me moan. It’s so easy to slide into you. Way easier than the first time I fucked you against the wall and knocked you up. I grab your hips, and pull you back onto my dick, careful at first…but when I feel how open you are, how ready, I pick up the pace.

“Yes,” you moan, cheek pressed against the sheets. In no time, your pussy sucks my entire length inside, nudging your cervix. I can feel it against my tip when you wiggle your hips back against it. “That’s it…fuck me. Fucking fuck me.” I wouldn’t be a soldier if I couldn't follow orders. So I push you forward on the bed, place one foot next to you, the other remaining on the ground, and start to thrust into you. Harder. Faster. The impact of my body against yours makes your butt jiggle. Every time I hit in deep, you cry out like that’s exactly what I should be doing. I get lost in the movement, lost in watching your body react to my dick inside you.

“Give it to me-e-e-e-e!” Your voice breaks with every following thrust. Sobbing, you twist your fingers in the sheets. It's then that I cover your body with mine, rolling my hips forward and making your eyes pop open. You scream. I’m against your cervix, right there, rolling my hips and grinding forward. Your toes curl with tension, pussy contracting, clenching and releasing….clenching and releasing around my hard rock shaft. I moan, head dropping forward, hands braced next to your shoulders. It feels so…dirty, primal, insane to be fucking you like this. Your hands suddenly shoot down to your belly. The expression on your face twists into a strain as I pound your cervix to ripen it for childbirth. Lips parted, eyes squeezed shut. Your entire belly trembles underneath your hands. I pant and watch. The sight of it and the idea that I am literally fucking the baby out of you, makes my brain implode.

The movement of my hips turns from drilling into stuttering. “Oh my God—“ I grunt and growl. My hands grip your hips so tightly I leave marks. And then, fireworks set off in my brain. My load breaks free from deep inside my balls, spurt after spurt of thick, creamy come pumping against your cervix. My body is still twitching in post-orgasmic bliss when I suddenly feel warm liquid splash over my cock. I open my eyes in surprise and shock. What the fuck. My vision is blurry when I look down between us. My cock, your pussy, and the sheets between your knees are wet. I catch my breath and instinctively pull back and out, heart pounding.

“My waters broke…” you gasp, staying on your knees. You breathe in slowly. “Oh my God,” you whimper, all high-pitched. Your belly tightens up under your hands and you pant into the sheets.

It's a hard and cold reality check, the realization of what's about to happen next. Ten seconds ago, I shot my load inside you, and now you’re in labor? You're going to make me a father now. Holy shit.