I was sitting in my room one night, when I was grabbed from behind and blindfolded. I took some type of hit to the head and I wake up strapped to a bed. Two guys walk towards me, I recognize them as my brothers. "What the fuck is going on?" I spit at them. "We're gonna do experiments on you," my oldest brother said. My oldest brother was a genius, and my other brother was an idiot that followed my older brother around like a god. I was the baby, and if you couldn't tell by this fucked up situation, my oldest brother hated me. "I'm sorry Jess, but you left me no choice." "I never did anything you sick f-" He inserted a shot into my thigh and I passed out instantly.
I wake up, and I can tell I'm doped up, my arms feel heavy. My legs are in stirrups, and my brother is holding a turkey baster. He squeezes the contents of the turkey baster into my vagina, but there's nothing I can do to react.
My brothers where lucky, neither of our parents where ever home, and they told me if I told anybody what they did they'd slit my throat. I tried to pretend nothing had happened. The first few weeks everything went normal. It had been about 10 weeks since the turkey baster thing, and I woke up nauseous. Not the little petty nauseous either, it felt like if I moved half an inch I'd throw up everywhere, and I did. I threw up all over my floor. I didn't go to school that day, and cleaned it up after my nausea had settled. By the third day my older brother had heard the gagging in the mornings, he somehow got me into online school and said I couldn't leave the house anymore. He wouldn't tell me what was wrong with me. One day he came in my room with a cup, demanding me to pee in it, I didn't have much of a choice and he got his way. He left me alone for a little bit after that, except every morning he'd force me to take these gummy vitamins.
I didn't know what was going on with me, I just wanted the throwing up to end. The throwing up eventually stopped, but then I was starving all the time. Of course it led to bloating, which seemed normal to me.
On day I was sitting in the kitchen with a pickle jar and a tub of sour cream, eating them together. Both my brothers come parading in the kitchen like some show ponies. "What the fuck are you eating?" The stupid one asked. I ignored it, until I heard my oldest brother mutter the word pregnancy craving loud enough I could hear him. "What!" I said about to start spazzing. "Hey, you're fine, it's just an experiment, it won't even be a real baby." "Will the labour be fake?" "Oh no, that's still very much going to happen," he told me. I suddenly wasn't hungry anymore, I felt sick. I ran to the bathroom, losing all the contents of my stomach. My brother was an asshole, but he wasn't a complete asshole. He decided to calm me down, he would wait for me to stop throwing up, then hand me 5 melatonin gummies to have me pass out. I should've been mad, but you can't be mad when you're basically dead without the commitment. It took me two in a half days to sleep off those gummies. By then I had calmed down, this situation was fucked, but I didn't have to much longer, according to my brothers.
They lied, it had been 20 weeks since I had found out I was pregnant and I was miserable. I had to pee all the time, and I could barely move by myself. I couldn't be bothered to use stairs, so my brothers would drop all my meal off to me. They were no help at all with my esteem, they'd bully me and call me a cow, since I'd started lactating. I was huge, my frame was small, I was 5,3 and very petite, but my stomach was the size of a large watermelon, and thick stretch marks covered my stomach. And the things movements where so painful, Id passed out a couple times due to the sheer pain. This thing wasn't human, and it didn't seem like it was coming anytime soon.
I was 43 weeks, and which each coming day my stomach was growing bigger, I was starting to worry the baby wouldn't be able to come. My oldest brother had tried a couple things to get me into labour, but nothing had worked. I couldn't move, I stayed in my bed crying at how uncomfortable I was, I hadn't slept in days. My stomach was the size of a slightly flattened yoga ball, my stomach couldn't physically stretch any further. My brother finally decided he was going to break my water himself. He had moved me to his room which resembled some shady doctor's office from horror movies. He put my legs on some stirrups he had probably found in a dumpster. I closed my eyes, as I heard him the clinking of metal, then his hands on my thigh. I felt the hook think he was using go in me, it wasn't pleasurable, then I heard a pop, and liquid started gushing out of me. My body was suddenly overcome with pain, as the thing made a huge turning movement near my pelvis. This labour didn't have contractions, it was just constant pain. My oldest brother wasn't much of a birth coach he just kept telling me my body knew best. I pushed for what felt like hours, and the baby hadn't moved at all. Each push was unbearabley painful, and the pain never stopped. This thing had to get out of me soon or I was going to die. My brothers eyes widened in panic when he realized it wasn't budging. "I'm gonna have to use forceps," he screamed at me. I didn't hear what he had said at the time I was blinded in pain. I felt the cool metal of the forceps on my thighs, and then in me. The forceps widened my opening, so the thing could be birthed. I thought I was being torn in two. Suddenly I hear a a crack, and I'm in even more pain, the baby had completely broken my pelvic cradle, I screamed in pain. Then my brother managed to pull the baby out, but not without me hearing a ripping noise. My vision started blacking out, I could hear something about calling 911, but I fell into darkness before I could reply.
