I wanted to do another picture in this vein almost immediately after the first one. And, indeed, I sketched it out, even wrote the story (myself, this time, even!), and then forgot about it.

For some reason, the picture just didn't get off the ground until relatively recently. Tried some new coloring techniques that just about killed Photoshop for a few seconds, but it managed to save, which kept me from giving up entirely.

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Allison scowled. This was not how she wanted to spend her spring break.
Other people back at college were going to Miami, or Cancun, or some other ridiculously tropical locale with sparkling oceans and endless sandy beaches and cute boys in speedos.
Well, that was probably a bit of a pipe dream. Allison was pregnant. Really pregnant. She didn't want to be splayed out on endless sandy beaches; it'd be way too likely that someone would mistake her for a beached whale and call Greenpeace or whoever it was they called to deal with that sort of thing. And chasing after cute boys in speedos was really why she was hugely pregnant in the first place.She didn't want a wonderful tropical vacation. Not at all. Not...really.
Well, alright, she did want it. But, Allison was a reasonable young woman. She could compromise. A book of video rental coupons and a few chilly gallons of Ben and Jerry's chocolate chip cookie dough could be just as good a way to spend her vacation.
But this? This just wouldn't do. There was really no other solution. She'd just have to stage a protest.
"But, Moooooom!" she moaned.
Her best efforts had no effect on her mother. That was strange, she sounded convincing to herself. Maybe when she was a full fledged mother in a couple months she'd gain that same immunity.
"Don't 'but Mom' me," her mother said. "You know I have night classes on Wednesday, and we could stand to save the money on a babysitter...And, you're here anyway."
Allison bit her lip. Damn her mother. She had no business making sense like that. Not to mention the fact that she was rubbing in the fact that she was stuck at home when her friends were all skydiving or doing something else ridiculously awesome that big huge pregnant girls couldn't get away with.
But still. Babysitting her little brother? That was like some sort of punishment. A cruel and unusual one, at that.
"I'd really appreciate your help with this.", her mother said. Allison recognized the words as being in that patented mother way that somehow managed to invoke massive amounts of guilt. She so needed to learn how to do that.
Of course, when it was used on her, she was powerless to stand against it.
"Okay...fine," She groaned.
Damn it. She was way too pregnant for this.
Allison decided rather quickly that spring was a horrible time for watching television. Winter thaw had come and gone and every network was starting to air commercials for summer getaways to fun vistas. Allison pouted. Being pregnant was fun, but it wasn't surfing in Oahu fun. You could only paint funny faces on your belly or play twenty questions with your unborn children so many times before it got old. Washing all the marker off took forever, and she was outgrowing her canvas faster than she thought. Plus, she always won when they played twenty questions. Then again, if she lost those games, that'd only make her pregnancy weird in some way other than it's scale, so maybe that was for the best.
So she and her babies watched television. Very bad, kind of boring television. Maybe it would be better to read a book; this sort of programming couldn't possibly be healthy for their developing young minds. On the other hand, books were way over on the other side of the room, and she had just gotten comfortable in bed. On the other other hand, it was time to get up anyway. The crappy reruns of the ugly-guy-with-a-disproportionately-hot-wife sitcom that she never even knew existed had gone to commercials, and her bowl of potato chips was getting dangerously empty.
A single tiny kick from her insides was the only impetus she needed to go back down to the kitchen and procure more nourishment for her brood. The following rapid staccato of a multitude of baby feet was totally unnecessary. She checked her nearby bowl and inspected it for some valuable crumbs. When she found none and licked her fingertips free of the oily residue, it became clear that she'd just have to begin the rather difficult task of lifting herself and her children off of the anchor of her bed.
"You know," she said to her belly with a lopsided grin. "You're the ones that want me to get up in the first place. You could be a little more helpful."
Her complaints, halfhearted as they were, fell on undeveloped ears and went unheeded.
After much rocking, rolling, and using the bedframe as a lever, she managed to get onto her feet. It was getting a little harder to do so with each day.
"Okay kids. This weekend we look into getting your mom a crane," She said, drumming the fingers of one hand on the side of her belly. She reached for the empty bowl, balanced on the top of her stomach -having her own personal shelf was one of those tricks that still retained some of its charm despite having been so overused- and moved to the kitchen.
And then it all went to hell.
"Joseph Ryan Taylor, put that down!"
Nope, that didn't work. Allison leaned against the nearest wall and wheezed. Apparently, despite being well on her way to being a mother several times over, she had yet to be imbued with the ability to instill fear just by using someone's full name.
And so Joey, her stupid little twerp of a brother, continued to fire foam and plastic darts at her from down the hallway. Allison sighed. She'd never have bought him that damn toy for his birthday if she'd known she'd quickly become such an oversized target.
She thought back. It was only a few minutes ago, but being really pregnant stretched out her personal time line, much like it had her waistline. The ordeal had started innocently enough. Although, not at all simply. An inattentive onlooker might have narrated that Allie took a break from her show and checked in on Joey. But Allison knew firsthand that it was hardly that simple. Allison's reality was that it had taken roughly five minutes to even heave her overly pregnant body out of bed. Then she was halfway to the kitchen when it occurred to her to again check in on her little brother. That meant turning herself around. Again, that might seem like child's play, but when you're full of children at play it's a task that takes a lot of effort and even a fair bit of time.
Then she had to walk down the hall to Joey's room, navigating past the treacherous dangers of discarded Hot Wheels and action figures, without being able to see directly underneath her. The sole of her left foot still ached from having neglected to avoid the surprisingly pointy Transformer that she'd probably have to apologize for crushing. Or maybe not. It felt like it had transformed into a porcupine. Either way, it took a fair bit of time and effort to move to a place that would've taken thirty seconds just a few months prior. She'd finally made it to Joey's room, channeled the spirit of Pandora by ignoring the the 'No Girls Allowed' sign on the door, and entered. Or rather, her belly entered, and she was dragged behind it.
"Hey twerp," She'd said. "You staying out of trouble?"
And then it all went downhill. She told him that it was time to go to bed, and naturally, as eight year olds did, he was inclined to disagree rather emphatically. Before Allison knew it, she'd been shot. And somehow, Joey had escaped despite the fact that she was taking up most of the doorway.
Babysitting was a tricky thing. Her mother had argued in rather vague terms that it would provide her with the experience she needed to raise the small army of children she was currently carrying. And apparently, the assurance that if her own kids were even half as bad as Joey then they'd spend a lot of time with grandma was not a good enough counter argument to validate hiring someone else to watch Joey. Not to mention that her mother had neglected to mention the very obvious fact that most parents hired babysitters just to have a few hours reprieve from their terrors. True, Allison already had a soft spot for her own legion of brats, at least when they weren't keeping her up until four in the morning with their fetal rugby matches or pounding away at her internal organs like a heavyweight prizefighter, but the thought of each one of being a hyperactive little terror like her baby brother was the stuff of nightmares. Still, she had to admit that she'd need the training. One Joey was surely about as much as a dozen or more well behaved kids, so if she could handle him, she could handle anything. This meant that she had to, very, very reluctantly, give chase.
Which, very obviously, proved to be a bad idea. Allison had learned fairly early on in her exceedingly big pregnancy that one of the major issues with being the size of a house was that it was hard to get moving. But, once you gained momentum, you could be used to crush archaeologists that had from stealing golden idols from your temple. Either way, she quickly found herself tumbling towards Joey, her generous baby carriage pulling her faster than her legs could carry. Isaac Newton was a rat bastard.
But still, Joey was the far lighter and more aerodynamic of siblings, and was a little too far ahead to be caught. He turned a corner, feet pattering away as he vanished from sight. Allison didn't really even know why she was chasing him, it was just one of those routines they'd fallen into. Tom chased Jerry, the Coyote chased the Roadrunner, and she chased Joey. The universe frowned on her pursuit much like it had theirs. She lumbered around the corner, too preoccupied by dreaming up all the tortures she could inflict on her aggravation of a little brother to notice the same action figure she'd stepped on a few minutes earlier until she'd already slammed her foot down on it.
Her leg sprung up awkwardly as a jolt of pain surged up her leg. Unfortunately, that was the exact sort of thing that the laws of physics frowned upon, and she found herself tumbling backwards until she landed on the carpet with a heavy thump.
This presented a problem.
As stated earlier, getting out of bed or chairs or the tub, they were all really involved processes that took a lot of planning and effort on the part of the hugely pregnant. Working around the belly was an activity. It might even have counted as a full fledged job. After a few seconds of sitting on the floor, rubbing her sore bottom, she realized that her current awkward position wasn't a very good one at all. There was nothing in the vicinity she could grab onto to heave herself back onto her feet. The fact that she had utterly destroyed Megatron and saved the universe when she came tumbling down wasn't any comfort either.
"Oh god dammnit," She hissed. This was so embarrassing. Especially since it was so cliched.
She'd fallen, and she couldn't get up.
And the solution to her problem wasn't much better.
"Joey?"
"What?" came the reply.
"I...Can you help me up?"
Joey poked his head out of the door to the linen closet. He stuck out his tongue. "What? No way!"
"Oh, come on, Joey," Allison said. "I need your help. I can't get up on my own like this."
"Then I get to stay up," Joey said.
"Forget it, twerp."
"I help you then I get to stay up," Joey repeated.
Allison sighed. She didn't need this. She was supposed to be watching tv and eating ice cream. Now the babies were up and they were making sport of her bladder, and Joey was going to spend the rest of the night in the closet with the guest towels. Or maybe he'd just eat candy or set the house on fire; it wasn't like she could really stop him at the moment. She stroked her belly. It seemed to calm down her unborn. At least they were on her side. Not that they had much choice in the matter.
"Fine," She said icily. "One more hour past bedtime, and that's it."
Joey slowly and very cautiously paced towards the fallen woman, his weapon drawn and aimed at him. He might have even been threatening, if he weren't wearing Batman pajamas and wielding a gun that shot foam darts. "You promise?"
"I promise," Allison said.
"You really can't get up?" He said after it was clear that he wasn't about to be eaten.
"Yes," Allison said. "Look, just...just give me your hand, okay?"
Slowly, Joey accepted his sister's outstretched hand. It took a rather herculean effort on both their parts, but slowly, Allison managed to rise the few inches she needed to finish pulling herself on to her own tired and abused legs.
"Now," she sighed. She continued to hold her vicegrip on Joey's hand. "Let's get you to bed."
"But you promised!"
"Yeah, yeah," Allison said. "Guess I lied."
Allison sighed, lowering her body onto the couch cushions. Cushions were good. Television was also good. Her babies had gone back to sleep in her belly, and the house wasn't burning. All in all, her night was finally starting to look up.
And then Joey reared his little head once more, walking with his tiny little steps into the living room.
She peered at her younger brother suspiciously. He was doing that look. She couldn't resist that disappointed puppy look. She was so doomed once her kids learned how to use it. Constant vigilance was the best way to approach the boy. But, wait...what was that in his arms?
A stout cylinder, brown and cream and tan in color. Coated with frost.
It was a peace offering, and a damned good one. Joey knew her a little too well.
"Aw..." She said warmly. "Okay, come'ere twerp."
Joey climbed onto the couch, sitting astride his sister's massive pregnant bulge, and handed her the gallon of Ben and Jerry's chocolate chip cookie dough. He yawned, nestling a little closer to her colossal side. Allison rolled her eyes and picked the remote from it's resting place on the top of her belly. She changed the channel to one of those annoying twenty-four hour cartoon networks, and examined the ice cream. A spoon had already been embedded in its otherwise untouched surface.
Well, maybe if her kids were like him it wouldn't be that bad.