Looking for a story I remember reading on the old expansionmansion forum, was called Allison's adjustment. I just remember she was slowly getting more pregnant at a slow pace throughout the day.

Any help would be appreciated.

(August 11, 2022, 1:53 am)murf220 Looking for a story I remember reading on the old expansionmansion forum, was called Allison's adjustment. I just remember she was slowly getting more pregnant at a slow pace throughout the day.

Any help would be appreciated.

Got you covered, there were lots of ExpansionMansion stories that never got continued after the site closed.

Allison's Adjustments

Saturday morning, Allison awoke to discover that her favorite jeans no longer fit.

She took her typical long shower, toweled herself dry, and dressed herself, beginning a squirming, squeezing wrestling match against the denim foe, shifting shapely girlish hips this way and that, tugging an antagonistic waistband inch by inch over her pert, petite bottom. As she struggled with the zipper-- holding her breath, clenching abdominal muscles in desperation, sucking in her not-quite-flat belly (just a little farther, now!)-- she recalled last night's party, and how Victor, witty and mysterious, had undone this same zipper in the host's upstairs guest room. Her stomach growled and gurgled, echoing last night's more sensuous appetites.

Victor No-last-name, Allison thought, clenching her teeth in determination, pulling the stubborn zipper up tooth by tooth, cinching her restrained belly tight enough to bulge-- ever so slightly, ever so gently!-- over the top of these jeans. Tall, tanned Victor, who would love the way these jeans showed off her ass, if she could ever get them on properly, and if she ever saw him again. She probably wouldn't see him again, which was okay by her. They had both been exactly what the other needed: a quick, hot, guilt-free fuck with a near-complete stranger. She was happy to let him sail just as casually out of her life, and to remember her as Allison No-last-name-either: the fiery little brunette who had rocked his world.

A shame he was so well-endowed, she mused. She'd probably miss that sensation.

Allison's stomach gurgled again, and her battle against her jeans was decisively lost. She relaxed for just a moment, inhaled deeply, and felt her belly surge forward, plump and proud and free at last, forcing the zipper all the way down in spite of the progress she'd made. The denim flaps on either side of it curled out like flower petals, tantalizingly showcasing the pale yellow panties beneath, releasing the fragrance of her surprisingly-intense arousal. Silently, she blamed Victor for distracting her; she had been so close to success.

Struggling back out of the recalcitrant jeans, Allison surveyed herself in the mirror, stark naked save for those yellow panties. 5'2" frame: check. Wavy brown hair, shoulder length: check. Long-lashed green eyes, with black-framed glasses: check. Button nose; pouty, insouciant lips: double-check. Freckle-smattered shoulders: sigh and check. Holdable, cuppable, kissable b-cup breasts: check and check. Pudgy little pot-belly: ch-- where the hell did that come from?

Allison probed her belly with her hands, rubbed it: it was real, all right. She gave it a little shake and watched, mortified, as it jiggled just slightly. It billowed gently out above the elastic waistband of her underwear: a subtle, feminine, wobbly softness. It stared back at her from the mirror, as if in defiance. That's it, Allison vowed, extra time on the treadmill today.

Admitting defeat, for now, with a pair of stretchy pajama pants, Allison dressed for a quiet day at home, grading freshman creative writing assignments she'd been putting off in favor of thesis research and last night's party. The party had almost counted as coursework, she decided; after all, it was an English department event, and she'd only gone because Helen and Paul had insisted. "It'll be great fun," Paul had said. "You need to loosen up a bit, you know," he'd prodded. "It's going to be a great chance to meet other grad students from nearby colleges. You know, do some networking," he'd added with his customary damned infuriating logic.

Yeah, "networking." That's what she'd call what she was doing with Victor.

Not that Paul even needed to find out about it, anyway. After all his urging Allison to show up, he hadn't shown up himself. Neither had Helen. Allison was pretty sure she knew what they'd been doing instead, and made a mental note to heckle them about it later on, and hypocrisy be damned.

Allison smiled smugly. As a grad student in English, she had a natural way with words. And she had plenty of time to think before she saw Helen and Paul again. More than enough time to get back at them for ditching her at the party, by coming up with some real bonnes mottes, some real stinging zingers, about the juvenile way they just couldn't keep their hands off each other, not even for one evening. About the greedy, salacious, heavy-breathing way they must have clawed at one another, must have torn each others' clothes off, must have been... been so... so incredibly horny....

Surprised at herself, Allison slipped back out of her pajama pants and headed back to bed, but sleep was out of the question. Grading papers could wait.

She was so intent on getting herself off that Allison barely noticed her stomach's audible rumbling. She must certainly not have noticed the almost imperceptible way her belly rose like dough as she sprawled on her back on top of her unmade bed, the way she was becoming-- just slightly-- rounder, softer, heavier.
 
Sunday morning, Allison awoke to the sound of a ringing telephone.

She flopped gracelessly over, bits and pieces of some unremembered erotic dream fading into the mental fog, and fumbled on the nightstand for her cell phone. Mentally, she cursed this inconvenient wake-up call: she was still groggy and clumsy from sleep, and although she had already forgotten the details, she was fairly certain it had been a really good dream. She was dimly aware of her breasts and belly; the way they squished against the bed didn't quite feel normal.

With intense concentration, Allison convinced her sleep-addled fingers to answer the phone. "Hello?"

"Morning, Allison!" Helen's voice. It figures. Nobody has the right to be so chipper and cheerful at this hour of the morning. "Just calling to let you know I'm on my way over!"

"On your way over?" Allison echoed inarticulately. Phone in hand, she flopped over onto her back, setting off a seismic tremor all down her front. Reflexively, she rested a steadying hand on her belly, and was surprised to find it sank deeper than expected into her soft, yielding flesh. "The occasion?"

An obvious grin worked its way into Helen's voice. "C'mon, our gym plans? You forget or something?"

"I'm not sure I want to go to out this morning. I'm feeling kind of fat today."

"Then drag your fat ass out of bed, girl, and let's go running! I'm not taking no for an answer!"

Allison groaned. "Come on, have pity. I've still got grading to do!"

"If you're not ready to go when I get there, I'm going to lean on your doorbell until you either capitulate or call the cops."

"All right, all right; you win." Allison flopped out of bed, snapped the phone shut, grabbed a set of clothes and her workout bag, still grumbling. "Great big meanie."

*****

Half an hour later, Helen and Allison stepped out of the cold September rain and into the community fitness center. Nylon gym bags slung over their shoulders, they strolled down tiled hallways towards the locker room, past yoga and aerobics classrooms and the indoor pool, their footsteps echoing.

Allison distractedly kept up her end of a light banter while she and Helen changed in adjacent locker room stalls. She shrugged out of her button-up shirt, twisted an arm behind her back to unhook her bra. Was she a little swollen? She brushed the thought aside. Everything looks weird under these washed-out flourescent lights. That could probably account for the darkening brown of her nipples, couldn't it?

While Helen prattled on about covalent bonds in hydrocarbons and her freshmens' hilarious wrong quiz answers, Allison pulled her sports bra into place, grumbling inwardly. Did I shrink this damn thing in the wash? She grabbed idly at her new pot-belly, cantilevering her pelvis forward, looking down at herself. It seemed a little bigger now than when she had first noticed it yesterday morning, but Allison conceded that she might be wrong. She arched her back, pushing her hips farther forward, idly rubbing her exaggeratedly prominent belly.

Your days are numbered, fat, she addressed her belly, wobbling it for emphasis. But at least I can apparently enjoy a little bit extra up top until I manage to get rid of you.

*****

The indoor running track was on the second floor, set up on a wraparound balcony overlooking the gymnasium. While pounding the track's stiff, industrial-grade carpet, the girls could watch a relatively inept pickup basketball game taking shape on the gym floor below. They continued their conversation while they jogged laps, talking over the squeak of sneakers and the thud of basketballs below, and over their own huffing and puffing.

Allison couldn't help glancing over at Helen, admiring her running form. Her movements were smooth and graceful, her body tall and trim. Her muscles moved, lean and taut, beneath the surface of her lean feminine frame, and her blonde ponytail swished across her back as she ran. Despite herself, Allison felt a pang of jealousy for her friend's physical attractiveness-- not least because Helen's belly wasn't currently plump and rippling with every footfall. Almost immediately, Allison banished her jealousy with an upwelling of guilt-- after all, Helen had been sensitive enough to avoid embarrassing Allison by mentioning her recent surprising weight gain, even though both women were clad in exercise shorts and snug halter tops, making it easy enough to notice.

During one of her guilty, longing glances at her friend's graceful body, a metallic glint caught Allison's eye. "Hey, you didn't want to take your necklace off before we started jogging?"

Helen looked away, hooked a finger around the simple, silver chain, twisted it nervously. "Oh, it's just jewelery. Just something I wear," she began, but Allison could see that she was blushing furiously.

"You took off your watch. And your rings."

Helen let their carpet-dulled footfalls fill the silence for a long moment. "Paul asked me to wear this chain for him today."

Curious, Allison knew how to handle Helen in these moods. She kept her silence, thickened it, let it take on a life of its own. Eyes forward, she wondered if Helen was looking, if she could see her thin-lipped, disapproving frown. It worked, of course. It had worked ever since high school, when she had extracted information about shy, beautiful Helen's first kiss.

"Okay, he told me I'd wear this chain for him today." More silence. At last, "It's part of our game."

"Oh?" Allison placed the words with deliberate, precise slowness. "What kind of game?"

"Well," Helen fidgeted as she ran, her blush intensifying, and for a moment, Allison thought she might have lost the conversational momentum. She hadn't. "Paul bought me this necklace. He said it's a chain for a reason. And that some days... some days he would tell me in the morning to wear it all day, and those would be the days he had special plans for the evening. With, you know... ropes."

Allison let this sink in for a moment, dimly aware of her softly growling stomach. "Wow, Helen. I didn't realize you and Paul were into that kind of thing."

Helen sighed with apparent relief at this mild response. "Yeah. It's... pretty nice, actually. When Paul tells me to wear the necklace, I..." she lowered her voice even further, forcing Allison to drift closer just to hear. "Well, I'm basically aroused all day. It's the anticipation of it; it's like a little bit of foreplay all day long."

Allison mulled this over, intrigued by the idea of ropes, of voluntarily giving up the power to resist. Her stomach groaned insistently, and she became aware of her own growing arousal. "Nobody'd guess it's a dominance toy, to look at it. It's pretty," she offered after a while.

"That's the beauty of it. There's all sorts of kinky stuff you can do in public, without anybody finding out. You remember last week, when me and Paul came over to your place, and we made pasta and watched House?"

"Yeah...."

"I was wearing fifty feet of nylon rope all night, under my clothes."

"What? That's bullshit."

"No, yeah, I was! Shibari rope harness. Really beautiful, really intricate-looking loops and knots. Lots of, um, handholds...."

"Oh god, stop! You're killing me, here!"

Both girls' laughter turned the heads of the basketball amateurs on the gym floor below. Even at a distance, the eagle-eyed among them might have been able to tell just how aroused the girls were getting, noticing their nipples standing at attention, pushing out against the thin fabric of their runners' support. The truly attentive, assuming they hadn't gone back to their game, or been distracted by watching the tall, svelte blonde, might have noticed something odd about her brunette exercise companion: the liquid gurgling emanating from within her plump, bare belly.

But the basketball game beckoned, and none watched long enough to notice the odd way her bared midriff grew gently fuller and rounder as she ran, or the way it jiggled ever so slightly more with each step. None saw the agonizingly slow spreading of her swaying hips and the matching swelling of her increasingly plump and feminine ass, the way it grew almost imperceptibly thicker, higher, rounder, gradually pulling taut the wrinkled fabric of her running shorts. Nobody noticed, not even Allison herself, as her halter grew gradually more stretched and strained across her engorged breasts and broadening nipples, or the way her hungry, moistened lower lips grew slowly thick and fat, pressing the outline of her sex insistently into the fabric of her increasingly tight panties.

Allison jogged on and feigned nonchalance, but her thoughts wandered between rope and biting and the smell of men. Without her notice, her waist continued to thicken and her curves continued to intensify.
 
Monday morning, Allison found herself unable to continue ignoring the obvious.

Steam rolled out past the shower curtain in a soft, slow avalanche, determined to bury uncomfortable evidence beneath a smothering white blanket. It covered the home pregnancy test resting by the sink, and it covered its starkly displayed, unmistakably positive result. It clung to the bathroom mirror, clouding it, rendering it unable to reflect any more swollen breasts with dark, wide nipples. It filled the bathroom ceiling-to-floor, obscuring the scale, almost daring the cruelly truthful device to say it again: say she had gained twenty-five pounds in the past three days.

Allison stood numbly beneath the shower's onslaught, letting the water pummel her back and shoulders, letting it flow across her in rivulets which caressed the swollen dome of her belly and converged again at her sex. She marvelled at her own size. Even through her breasts had grown fat and swollen-- a c-cup now, at least!, she estimated-- her belly jutted out beyond them: taut, enormous, undeniable. Three days ago, she'd been slim and svelte, almost as trim as Helen. Now, though... any stranger would guess she was well and thoroughly knocked up, four or five months gone, ready to give birth around Christmastime. She felt absolutely huge.

She touched her belly, caressing it, feeling the weight of it, the fullness, the stuffed, stretched tightness beneath a subtle layer of new pudge. To Allison, it seemed to go on forever: a smooth, silken expanse of unexpected fertility, an ironic match to her surprising new libido. Like her belly, her sexual appetite had also apparently grown rapidly, ballooning unexpectedly out, bulging beyond the confines of anything she tried to contain it with. Even now, a dull ember smouldered between her thickened thighs, reminding her that it could burst into the full flame of need at the slightest provocation, reminding her of what men do to women to make them swell and ripen as she had. She tried to ignore it.

None of it made any sense. Allison was a smart girl, she used protection, was on the pill. And anyway, she inwardly protested, nobody gains this much weight this fast, even with a bun in the oven. And pregnant women don't usually find themselves subjugated by their own salacious desires... do they? A part of her wanted to cry.

Allison shut off the water, reached for the towel, and stepped cautiously out over the rim of the tub, nearly unbalanced by her new girth. She began toweling herself dry, trying not to think about or excessively touch her darkened nipples, or to pay attention to the way they were stiffening against the twin caress of the soft, white towel and the cold, after-shower air.

There was a knock at the door. Good timing, Allison thought bitterly; she would never have heard it over her self-indulgent hour-long shower. Wrapping the towel tightly around herself (and marveling at just how tight it had to be pulled, just to tuck one end behind the other), she went to check the door.

A quick glance through the security peephole revealed Paul, his hair messily ruffled, a sheaf of papers in his hand. Thank god it's only Paul, she thought inwardly, I guess he and Helen will find out about this eventually, no matter what I do. So out loud, she simply said, "Hello, Paul," and opened the door.

"Morning, Allison!" he chirped. "I brought you the--"

Paul can probably be forgiven for his reaction. He certainly wasn't expecting to see Allison, her dark hair slick and wet, her swollen breasts barely contained by a soft towel, her newly ample cleavage pressed tight, a deep, breathless furrow pointing from fluffy, white cotton back towards the hollow of her throat. He couldn't have predicted the thick nipples, pointing with obvious urgency, even from behind the smothering cloth. And he would never have been prepared for the great, fertile swell of her belly, or the way it pulled the towel tight, out and up, away from the pale, soft flesh of her thighs, away from her sex, leaving it hidden from his sight but exposed to the cool air, fragrant and alluring.

Allison can probably be forgiven for her reaction, as well. She had expected Paul to be shocked at her sudden, dramatic gain, but she was totally caught by surprise at the way his gaze scr____d across her newly exaggerated curves like coarse steel, the way he drank her in with his eyes. She was shocked at the well-defined bulge in his jeans, his thick member stirring and straining against the denim-- and at her body's reaction to the sight and the thought of it.

"--notes from class...." he finished, thrown off his stride.

The awkward moment, full of silent staring, was interrupted by a sudden snarl from Allison's bloated belly. "Come inside and have a seat," she said, pulling the door closed behind Paul. As he headed for the couch, she caught herself actually licking her lips while she checked out the view of his ass. What was wrong with her, lately? She'd known Paul was attractive since she met him at the English department's orientation, but there's a difference between "attractive" and "goddamn irresistable", and today she was out of control. In her defense, she thought, she was distracted today, by this morning's emotional ordeal, by Paul's delicious erection, and by this sudden, weird pressure in her abdomen.

Paul sat down on the couch, and dismissing the increasing tightness in her belly as imaginary, Allison took a moment to savor the view of his package from a new angle. Was her towel shifting slightly? "If you'll just give me a moment to go get dressed--"

At that moment, unable to cover Allison's still-swelling figure, the towel gave way and fell to the floor in a heap.

Allison stood before Paul, naked, swollen, and still slowly expanding, too overcome with need even to cover herself. Paul watched her chest heaving with urgent, ragged breaths, her heavy, brown-tipped breasts jiggling more and more with each exhalation. His eyes crawled down along her body, watching her crotch, brown-furred and glistening, as gradually it grew more heavily overshadowed by her enormous belly.

"Paul," she began, and he tore his eyes away from her nakedness, looked at her face, saw her eyes brimming with tears. "I know this is weird. I know we've never been close, physically," she lowered her eyes, embarrassed. "I know you're with Helen, and I know I'm a whale, but..."

She took a step closer, stopping between his knees, her belly at his eye-level, a foot away from his face. "...please, Paul. I need it."

Paul looked up, about to protest, but the view of her face from below, past the up-close mountain of her pregnant belly, framed by her newly-augmented breasts, dissolved the last of his willpower. "Allison, I--"

He never got to the end of the sentence, because she was kissing him hard, climbing onto his lap, spreading plump thighs above the erection she knew was waiting for her under Paul's clothes. Paul grabbed her by her thickening waist, pulled her closer into him, forced his tongue between her lips-- and she knew she had won.