Rose's Baby (futanari, pregnancy)

Story by srb

Hello people, here’s another story that I’ve written. This is in the same futuristic storyline as Jamie and Phillip; Pwomises but involves her sister.

I’m going to be blunt, this story involves the concept of abortion. If a story involving that upsets or is likely to upset you, please, for all involved, STOP READING!

I am one of what some people call a ‘begrudging pro life’ person. I don’t like abortion, I don’t. It’s something that I wish didn’t have to exist. But it does, and I’m a realist. I believe that it HAS to exist. I’m not a woman and I can’t tell a woman how to live her life, and what she can or cannot do with her own body. I don’t vote on the basis of pro life or pro choice. I don’t want abortion to be taken away. But I don’t like it either.

For this story, I have to give more thanks than usual to my dear buddy Theromen. His tireless efforts to help inform me and proofread my story have been more help than I can probably describe. If you want to read stories far better than mine, please check his stories Eve, Krista’s Compendium, and Goddess. And don’t forget to thank him for it.

Now it has been brought to my attention that I’m…how shall I put it…a verbose motherfucker. And that my chapters are far too long to really be read in one sitting. Because of which I’ve tried to change that for this story, in the means of releasing shorter chapters. I had initially thought of making this one long story, but at 70 pages and 32,000 words, it’s much too long for many to read in one sitting.

Thus I’ve decided to break it into 7 chapters. I’ve already finished the story, so what I’m going to do is to post a chapter every other day. I’m going to do it both in the original post and add the new chapters as they come as a reply. For those interested in reading the whole piece, it will likely be on my website before long.

Please if you enjoy or have any interest, drop me a comment.

And PLEASE let’s keep the abortion argument to a minimum. That’s not what I wrote the story for.

http://www.asstr.org/~srb

Don't read if under 18 or illegal in your little corner of the world, like you'll listen. This should appear only on my site http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/srb/www/ F3, Futanari Palace, and basically should be wherever Pal's stuff is. Also at the Grey Archive, and some other places they might end up, they know who they are. Any websites that want to host my story must have expressed electronic consent to do so. I will list all websites that I have granted permission to list my stories there. If you are reading this now and find this on a new website, then please email me at somerandombastard (at) yahoo (dot) com

This is copyright me, so don’t call it yours. Feedback can be left here. I created all the characters, they are all fictional, and any relevance to anyone living or dead, is incidental. I created the entire fictional universe in which they inhabit, if you’re interested in writing in this world than feel free to email me. I’ve pretty willing.

This is my second story following the lives of the Brown family, the first is Jamie and Phillip; Pwomises. While it is not necessary to read it, you may find it beneficial. It and all of my stories can be read on my website.

This story contains futanari, and pregnancy. No sex.

What You Need

Joan’s Baby

William Brown hurried his way through the government building. He nodded at the receptionist, Gary, who was evidently forced to work a late night because of him. Will didn’t know why. He should have been the only one coming in late, and Gary shouldn’t need to be there, except perhaps to open the door, which he did not. William didn’t know what coffee he liked, so he dropped off a cup of Arabian blend on his desk with an apologetic smile. It wasn’t that late, only six thirty, but like all government buildings six was supposed to be quitting time. It was a very rare circumstance when that rule was broken.

He walked straight towards Alexandra’s cramped office, nearly losing the coffee as he ducked to miss the low ceiling. He couldn’t count how many times he had forgotten about the low ceiling in the years he had frequented child services. Enough so that he remembered to duck. Most of the time.

He could feel her steely glare watching him before even looking up. Her disapproval was unquestionable. In the seventeen years since he had been in and out of this building, he couldn’t recall her so upset. Not even when he was an overweight alcoholic living a life of indulgence off of his father’s dime. And while she almost despised him then, he knew t

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