Chapter 21: A Very Full Oven
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Nina did as she was told, telling a tale of northern New Hampshire that spanned over 400 years in just a few short paragraphs. The French and Indian War, where many boundaries were made. A spit of land not even 15 miles across that was fought over and became part of the Colonies, jutting out into what would otherwise be Canadian territory. The marching of American Revolutionary soldiers marching from Maine through here to eventually capture Montreal. The naming of First, Second, and Third Lakes. It sounded very much like any other local history book, offering both official and familiar names for those who lived there. And Nina was diligent, adding emphasis where needed, and really pouring herself into her reading.
In any other circumstance, it would have been a commendable performance.
It was a little unfortunate, then, that the spectacle in front of the class so outweighed her recitation. Mrs. Mott-Fodsel, leaning against her podium and panting as quietly as she could muster, as the third of four teenage girls began to push head-first between her thighs. For it all, she hadn’t started sweating, but you could tell she was biting her lip to keep from moaning. That, after all, would be unprofessional.
The student, a brown-haired, brown-eyed lass (or so Jen remembered, as it was the first thing to disappear) seemed to have a little problem getting both of her shoulders in at once. One would slide in, but come back out when she tried to get the other in. She was getting awfully soaked from the ordeal, both shoulders slick with clear, slimy precum. Jen found herself wondering why she hadn’t gone in hands first. It made more sense to lead your shoulders, right?
She blinked a few times with the realization that what she had just thought, as absurd as it sounded, was sound advice and probably spot-on. That scared her a little. She was starting to think like one of them! She looked around the room, and with the exception of Nina, the rest of the class was transfixed on the spectacle at the front of the room.
Why was this so interesting? Jen was positive they’d probably seen it a thousand times already. Nobody here at Umberth thought anything of showing off their sex, shaved, hairy, or otherwise. She’d only been here a day, and she’d already seen more exposed woman-parts than in all her years previous.
It seemed the others already inside Mrs. Mott-Fodsel here began offering an assist at this point, as there was a low moan and a grotesque slurping sound, as they pulled student 3 inside. Mrs. Mott-Fodsel had to bend her knees and rest her belly on the step before her, taking a step down to the floor for better leverage. As she stepped down, the fourth student, a thin blonde, pushed her hands in and ducked down behind her.
It was here that Mr. Fodsel interrupted. “In case you were wondering, I do eventually get around to unbirthing, and the whole November Night Disaster. And Mrs. Mott-Fodsel is telling the truth. She was, in fact, there that night.” One of the boys raised his hand, and Mr. Fodsel responded, as Mrs Mott-Fodsel had her eyes rolled back in her head and was trying to breathe, what with three teenage people filling her abdomen and all. “Ah, yes... Mr... well, you there. Question?”
Mrs. Mott-Fodsel opened one eye and focused for a second, “Sharpe, Damon.” was all she said before returning to the task at hand, which was pushing against the invading breasts of student 4.
”Uh, yeah.” Damon said, probably the smartest thing he’d say that day, “She said she unbirthed that guys arm? I thought nobody did that until Dr. Umbert did her thing, right?”
”Wrong. But good question.” came Mr. Fodsel’s response, as student 4 was beginning the most difficult part of her journey inside- she was on tip-toes, trying to overcome her own center of gravity, so she could finish sliding in. Mrs. Mott-Fodsel was in no mood to respond. So her husband did for her. “You see, there are two wholly different symptoms of BUHNS. By far the most common, and inflicted upon most men and women in the area, was Strain Alpha. That’s the youthening sickness. But even at the start, Strain Betas existed, capable of relaxing their sexual organs to the point of elasticity. And putting a Strain Alpha into a Strain Beta even had the effect it has today. It stopped youthening sickness. Unfortunately, it did not repair age damage that had already occurred, and the youthening sickness started up again shortly after coming back out. So Strain Betas were, at best, only a stopgap measure. This is explained in detail in Chapter Two.”
This meant, of course, that he entirety of 400 years of history fit into a single chapter of this thick book. More importantly, that the last 40 years or so was exciting enough to fill the rest of it. And as these books looked used, it was probably a few years shorter than that. If she wasn’t so disgusted at the sight and the sounds, Jen would be genuinely entranced. Mrs. Mott-Fodsel, now finished and resting after taking four full-grown teenaged girls into her vagina, past her cervix, and into her womb, certainly seemed entranced.
”When Dr. Umbert arrived with her retrovirus, it was really just an isolated flaw in Strain Beta. Applied to Alphas, they either turned into Betas, if they were female, or a new Strain, Gamma, for the boys. This is the current state of BUHNS, with...”
”Matt,” called the still-out-of-breath Mrs. Mott-Fodsel. He hadn’t heard, so she repeated, “Matt!” Now he was decidedly ignoring her, “Mr. Fodsel!” she shouted, her breathing a little shallow still.
”Yes, An- Mrs. Mott-Fodsel?” he replied, smiling at her and stroking her enormous belly.
”You’re skipping ahead.” she said, taking his hand in hers, lifting it off of her belly, and then letting go. “And teaching my class. Again.”
He winced. “Sorry, hon... Mrs. Mott-Fodsel! I just get excited.”
She flashed him the same fake smile she’d flashed Jen before. “And you need to go be with your class. I’m starting to fill up.” It was true, too- the lumps of Mrs. Mott-Fodsel’s enormous belly-sack were starting to even out, and fill up. Soon, she’d be fully in pregnancy mode. Jen wondered, just for an instant, what having a belly that crowded must feel like. Then she visibly shivered, a look of revulsion on her face.
Mrs. Mott-Fodsel then added, “And by the way, these students here are all Gammas.”
”Wait, Strain Gammas? The girls, too? Wow, that’s pretty rare, actually. I’d love to...”
Jen was curious, now. She’d been lumped in with ‘Strain Gamma’, which normally only infected boys? Well, it would make her stay a little easier, anyway. She wouldn’t be expected to open her hips and swallow anybody any time soon. It meant that she wouldn’t have to explain to the Gen why she never was ‘third bed’. Although at some point, she realized she would have to let her in on the whole secret. She couldn’t take sleeping on the floor all winter. She’d die first.
”Goodbye, Mr. Fodsel.” grumbled Mrs. Mott-Fodsel. “Class, say goodbye to my husband, who is about to get in- 5 minutes before the bell, so he should have waited until tomorrow when there was more time since now they’ll all have to come out, get cleaned off, and get ready for next class in just a few minutes you stupid selfish man...”
By the time she’d gotten that far in the rant, he was already shoulder deep into her, and his students were all readily pulling him in. Damon Sharpe raised his hand again, and Mrs. Mott-Fodsel, without even opening her eyes, called out his name.
”Um, Mrs. Mott-Fodsel? If you were a teenager back in 64, doesn’t that make you, like sixty or something?”
This caused Mr. Fodsel to jump a bit, and attempt to pull back out. “Shhh!” she scolded him, then wriggled her behind to get her husband a little further in. “This is one of Mr. Fodsel’s favorite subjects. We suffer from a youthening disease, right? Well, that’s part of it. Before I was treated with Dr. Umbert’s cure, I had been reduced to a three-year old. I still had my memories, most of them, anyway. But it took about 12 years of my age. And then, when I had gotten back to about 15 again, I ended up with PCS.”
'PCS? What in the heck was that?' Thought Jen. The other students were nodding their heads in sad wonder and agreement. They knew. But Jen was one of the Untold, right? She decided she needed to borrow a copy of this book of answers. It was important for her survival.
Mrs. Mott-Fodsel was a sight to behold. Her straight black hair still tied up in a bun. Her blouse, now hiked up around her ribs it was so tight against her as to be almost see-through. Her belly was literally the focus of her body. It started high, close to her ribcage, and pushed out well past her arm’s reach. She was easily wide enough for two people to sit shoulder-to-shoulder, and the way her belly dipped down, Jen guessed her knees were pressed into her belly for counter-balance. It very nearly touched the ground even when she stood upright.
And yes, it was gross. The odd lump here and there was still visible from her husband still getting settled. There were old, very old laces of red stretchmarks stitched across her belly- cocoa butter hadn’t been around much when Mrs. Mott-Fodsel had started down this journey. Her skin was so shiny it was nearing latex in color, and the veins under her skin shown through like beacons. Her bellybutton stuck out like a fat nipple, nearly as big around Jen’s thumb to the first knuckle.
And yet, it was kinda cool. Somehow, this woman had, right before her eyes, made five people disappear! And all she had to show for it was an enormous, shiny taut pregnancy. Jen still thought it was very strange and a bit deranged, but now that she knew she wouldn’t be expected to perform it herself any time soon, she felt a little better.
”But like I said, we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves here. Go ahead and take the books under your desk, I’ll set more out for my next class. There isn’t much time left today, so I’m giving you the remainder of the time to get to know your fellow students. Thank you.” With that said, she slowly, painfully and ponderously crossed the distance between her podium and desk, and sat down heavily in her plush chair.
