soopersecret

Note: This is mpreg/WG fiction. Read from the beginning. Part 3 ~~ Once they had recovered from the shock of it, there was nothing to do but deal with the situation. “We should at least give the potions a try,” said Hannah. “She’s a crazy rhymes-with-witch,” grumbled Arthur from the couch. “Yes,” agreed Hannah. “But her magic works.” She poured him a spoonful of the Pain Tonic. He slurped it up. “It tastes good at least,” he said. He gave his back an exploratory twist. “Works fast, too.” “Do you want something to eat?” He nodded. While Hannah cooked in the kitchen, Arthur tenderly touched the surface of his stomach. Seven babies, plus seven years. How big were they now? Were they really going to be in him for seven years? Surely that was more of a curse than a spell. Babies didn’t take seven years to develop. They could probably be taken out after the normal amount of time, assuming

Note: This is mpreg/WG fiction. Read from the beginning. Part 2 ~~ Hannah’s family company job meant she could take as much time off as she wanted without fear of losing her position or her paychecks, but Arthur was having trouble completing even a single full day of desk work. It was turning into an issue. Two and a half months since the witch’s spell and Arthur was showing blatantly. Almost four inches of belly stuck out in front of him, and there was a noticeable curve on either side. The sweatpants had been replaced by loose, draw-string pajama bottoms that sat low on his hips and let his stomach bulge unencumbered. He looked four months pregnant at least. “Guess my body’s just not configured for this the same way yours is,” he remarked, comparing his development to photos from pregnancy blogs. “It sticks out. A lot.” “Yes it does,” agreed Hannah, which was not a complaint. Beyond the visual signs, the

Note: There is nothing particularly extreme in this first chapter, but this is mpreg/WG fiction. If that's not your thing, you can safely read this chapter, but I wouldn't advise going any further. ~~ Hannah and Arthur were always meant to be. “I’m gonna marry you when I grow up,” said Arthur, age six, to which seven-year-old Hannah replied, “And have seven children!” and their parents laughed and their schoolfriends teased them. When they were ten and eleven, it was Hannah who said, “I’m gonna marry you when I grow up,” and Arthur who replied, “And we’ll have seven children!” Their parents laughed and their schoolfriends rolled their eyes. When they were fourteen and thirteen, Arthur (squeaky-voiced and noodly and growing taller every day) said, “I’m gonna marry you when I grow up,” and Hannah (burgeoning into the picture of a small-town beauty) said, “And I’m gonna marry you,” and together they exclaimed, “And have seven children!” There was never any