Page 213 of Labor of Love

A rumbling, pulsing, motor-like hum filled my ears, and it took a moment to realize that he was purring. My big, grizzly boyfriend waspurring.

The vibrations through his chest felt amazing on my back, and that was the last thing I really thought before I drifted off to sleep.

Time passed and I continued to gain weight despite my attempts to be more active and improve my diet. I felt increasingly discouraged as my belly curved out and my hips widened. I felt awkward and hideous.

So, because I felt helpless in my continued weight gain, I eventually gave up and just ate what I wanted when I wanted.

My parents were concerned, I could see it in their eyes, so I took to hiding my body under baggy sweatshirts and hoodies, grateful that winter had set in.

“Honey,” Mom said one morning in January, “you know you can tell us anything, right?”

“I know,” I assured her. “But there’s nothing to tell. I’ve just been putting on weight and I’m trying to lose it.”

She eyed me warily, her hazel eyes traveling down my body and narrowing on my expanding waistline before drifting back up to meet my gaze. “How long have you been dating Conrad now?”

“About four months…” It was actually exactly four months and three days, but I played it cool. I cocked my head. “Why?”

She frowned. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were at least six months pregnant.”

Spluttering over my breakfast, I laughed incredulously. “Mom,” my cheeks burned, “we haven’t even…y’know.” I lowered my voice, feeling uncomfortable talking about sex with my mother. I wanted out of the conversation fast. “So, unless I’m about to start a new human religion, I don’t think that’s likely.”

She snorted and shrugged. “Well, I was just thinking out loud, I suppose.”

Mercifully, she let the subject drop. I thought nothing of it, except to take it as a reminder to go and see Eric and Brandt at the clinic…which I promptly forgot to do when Dad asked for my help in the sheds.

In late February, Martin cajoled me to join the monthly pack run. Around Christmas, I’d finally reached out, apologizing for basically ghosting him for months on end, and he admitted that he could have made more of an effort to talk to me, too.

I was relieved at how simple it was to reconnect, and a little guilty for not doing it sooner.

I’d been excited to introduce him to Conrad, too. Even though we weren’t as close as we’d been before, it was nice having my best friend back. Anyway, outside of shifting to cuddle up with Conrad’s bear form, I didn’t do it as often as I should, so I agreed to go running with Martin.

For months, I’d been feeling sluggish in my fox form, which I attributed to my human weight gain. I’d been putting off visiting Brandt and Eric, but I hadn’t gained any more weight since the awkward conversation with my mom. Because of that, I hoped the effort I was making to eat healthy and stay active despitemy lethargy would eventually help me lose some of the weight. Running as my fox would help, too, I was sure of it.

Martin and I lingered at the back of the pack as everyone took to their fur (or whatever covered their animal forms). Our Alpha led the run, but we all tended to do our own thing, frolicking as we pleased while whoever was on rotation for town security and medical emergencies stayed behind.

Conrad was one of the people rostered for February’s neighborhood watch patrol, which was yet another reason running with my best friend was a good option for me.

“This is going to be great,” Martin declared after he stripped. He rubbed his hands together, already resembling his raccoon form. “See you on the other side. Race you to the river!” Then his body shrank and morphed, his hands turning into the nearly creepy paws of his raccoon, and the dark circles under his eyes sprouted black fur. It was over within seconds, and he sat back on his hind legs, waiting for me to follow suit.

I turned my back on him as I stripped, extremely self-conscious about my body, and I shifted into my fur as quickly as possible. As expected, my belly felt cumbersome, and the effort of shifting made me yawn widely.

But Martin chittered and reached out, tugging at my fluffy orange tail. I huffed and rolled my eyes, but Martin chittered again, before taking off towards the nearby forestry. I gave chase, my paws padding along the ground as an unexpected twinge passed through my stomach. It reminded me of a stitch; the kind I got when I ran in my human form without stretching properly.

Weird.

Chasing the ambling raccoon past the tree line and into the darkened forest, I could hear and scent the rest of the pack chasing and playing with each other, excited yips and callsechoing around us. They were all off in the distance in various directions, though. Martin and I were alone.

Usually, I was much faster than him, but with the stitch-like cramps intensifying, and my added weight, I was so slow that I lost sight of Martin entirely. Not that it mattered: I knew where he was going.

I broke through the brush on the riverbed a few minutes later, panting and in pain. Martin stared at me with raccoon-level wide-eyed shock. I could sense his concern as he approached, scenting the air and whimpering his query. He wanted to know what was wrong.

The problem was, I had no idea.

I yelped as another intense cramp had my belly tensing up. Martin froze, standing on his back legs, his little arms splayed wide.

Unable to stand the pain any longer, I shifted back into my human form. I didn’t care about how fat I had gotten, or that Martin was going to see it. I just wanted the pain to stop.

But it didn’t stop. The second I shifted back, the strangest stabbing, aching, pulling sensation —kind of like shifting, butnot— struck me around my taint, of all places. My knees buckled, making me drop to the soft grass beneath me.

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