birthbitchii

Latest Posts by birthbitchii

Literally the most basic hand drawn sketch of a swollen belly is hotter than 100 AI renderings.

AI doesn't know how to add the horny.

why is the mpreg tag so clogged with ai… i thought it was a joke i thought we were actually making weird unconventional art again why are you generating this man instead of lovingly rendering him pregnant by HAND. this is ridiculous!!! i’ll have to fix this myself

impending birth reflecting feelings of impending doom. feeling your belly drop, the baby getting lower, hips aching...being so, so scared of what has to happen. wanting it out--it's so heavy--but also praying that it stays in, for just one more day. putting yourself on bedrest, trying to delay the inevitable, when you feel that first practice contraction. knowing that the longer you wait, the bigger it gets, but trying to put it off anyway.

Showgirl

I was always obsessed with the idea of being a showgirl, a performer, a spectacle for people to watch and admire. Now, as a surrogate birther for hire, I get to live out that dream — albeit for an extraordinarily painful and difficult price.

Despite the outrageous prices I charge to bear through this ordeal, women still come to me regularly to impregnate me with their babies and book a time and a date for the show.

Slowly over time, I would grow in size, round out in shape, and prepare myself for a date filled with dread on the calendar. But then, that's the side of show business that no one ever sees. Away from the glamour and the spotlight, no one ever looks for the callouses jeweled across a dancer's feet, or the pulled muscles and broken tendons on a stripper's body. No one ever paid much attention to the stretch marks, extra wrinkles, or marks of motherhood etched into mine either.

Though for my troubles, for all the wretched agony and herculean efforts that I racked onto my body time after time, I had never actually become a mother. Only a surrogate.

When Mom's day finally came, they would build up to their party as the most incredible day of their lives. For most, it was a bachelorette party amped up to 11 and then jacked up with an event that most only got to experience a handful of times at most. Alcohol was free-flowing and party games were in full swing while loud music and drunken revelers would pour from the house and into the street. What they were all here for though was the main event. Me.

Heavily pregnant, barely able to waddle into the home, and dreading this night since we signed the damn contract. Even without being in established labor, I'd have no choice but to perform, to deliver in front of a harem of girls, and leave mom with the baby she'd paid for.

That's the other nobody mentions about being a showgirl. You still have to perform even when you don't feel very much like dancing.

Waiting outside in the car for my allotted time, I'd try to prepare, to center myself for what's likely to come. Then, with a heavy shot of Pitocin stabbed into my thigh, it would be time to take center stage.

When I ring the bell even I have to listen especially carefully to hear it. The loud thump, thump, thump of this party's bass drowns out everything and I wonder how the neighbors can even stomach the noise. Then, I realize, they're probably here. The entire street is bouncing with activity. I gently chap at the door once again and open it gingerly, walking inside to the deafening beat.

At first I'm entirely unnoticed, a pleasant surprise in my current condition. Then, making my way into the main room I'm greeted with a terrifying chorus of whoops and hollers. My stomach sinks.

"Oh my god! She's here! She's really here" several women cry out.

"oh oh OHH, is it that time already?!" the new Mom says.

"Come on girls let's get it started," someone shouts into the room.

Someone turns down the music. Women grab their seats quickly. The couch is filled first, then seats are pulled around to line the walls until it's standing room only at the back. More and more women pour in from the kitchen, the landing, the patio, and even outside to see the main attraction.

I guess it's showtime.

The maid of honor pulls up a chair and places it in the center of the room before guiding Mom to take center stage. I drop my bag full of props in the only available corner in case they're called for later and wait for further instruction. This is her show, not mine.

Now, the Pitocin is taking hold. I try not to show it, but a series of contractions have been gripping hold of my stomach and contorting my belly. During the most recent of these pains, my face must have screwed a little too hard because the new mother diverts her attention and gestures me over.

"Hey, don't waste those over there, get over here where I can see you," she says.

The crowd cheers and hollers. Most of the women here have been drinking heavily and the party has just begun to hit its stride. Most are young, few looked like they were old enough to be mothers themselves. From their faces and their excitement, I guessed that few had a chance to see a delivery themselves before.

Dutifully, I waddled over to the young mom-to-be and stood in front of her makeshift plastic throne. She wasted no time and immediately began to undress me in the middle of the room. My wool knit cardigan, scarf, and even shoes were thrown to the side. Underneath, I had on just a pale blue night dress that reached down to my knees, a dark lace bra, and nothing else. I felt the intensity of the crowd watching me from every angle. I was embarrassed, vulnerable, and in a rapidly growing amount of pain — but that's what I was paid for.

Another contraction hit hard and I immediately flinched in front of Mom. They were coming fast.

She reached up and placed one hand on either side of my belly and squeezed tight to feel the contraction climb through my body. She could feel it shift, grip, and twist around my belly through the very tips of her fingers as I felt it stab and pull from the inside. Just as it reached its peak she announced to the room "They're really strong, I don't think baby is hanging around!"

I heard a round of cheers go around the room as glasses clinked together but I was too focused on the agony still crushing me inside to join in the merriment.

Finally, when that one began to fade from its peak, the new mom pulled me in close and sat me on her knees legs astride so that my oversized belly sat between us.

"There, there," she said quietly as she stroked my hair in long, flowing sweeps. "It'll all be over soon, take some nice deep, steady breaths for me, rest up between contractions,"

I did as she asked, even a faux level of care and affection was more than I could reasonably ask for under the conditions of our contract.

Soon more contractions followed, crashing into my body with an intensity and urgency that still somehow surprised me even after so many births. Mom guided me through each helping me focus and rest softly on her lap. Through every one she would hold on to my belly as if she was soothing her own put her hands on my hips and coached me to breathe in a rhythm that matched my body.

Despite the crowd watching around us, cheering the peak of every pain, and heckling my laboring cries, it was still reasonably soothing in comparison to other performances.

Somewhere during the melee she had pulled my night dress up and over my head until I was laboring on her lap in just my bra. The crowd cheered this development.

Even knowing that she wasn't my ally in this, it was all I could do to hold on to her, to grip her back and squeeze her tight while a wretched pain fought with me from the inside. Before long, that pain turned into a wretched pressure too as it became more and more apparent that it was time to push.

Delivery

I gave her a nod and somehow she immediately knew what I meant. She met my eyes and nodded back, "ok, let me check. Get on to the floor,"

She gestured at the wooden floor beneath us and I dutifully got on my hands and knees in front of her facing the door. In truth, I wasn't sure if she wanted me on my back or my front but before I could make another move I felt her hands on me and two fingers slip inside. Her entire hand quickly followed until her entire fist was pushed deep into my pelvis and I cried out again in a fierce guttural groan. This pleased the crowd immensely.

Now, the maid of honor came around and grabbed hold of my hand with Mom being currently preoccupied. She soothed my cries and gave me a hand to squeeze as the guest of honor shifted and stretched, pushing deep inside towards my cervix.

"Is it? Is it? is it?" the guests around the room asked over each other.

I assumed they were asking the soon-to-be mom if it was time for me to push. From past experience and the immense bomb of pressure bearing down on my stomach, I already knew for a fact that it was.

Already aching to push, Mom's fist buried deep within me added an intensity and agonizing sense of being filled that drove my urge to push even harder. In long labored breaths I began to coach myself not to.

I wanted nothing more than to bear down on this head, to push and strain and eject Mom's hand from my body with force if I had to. I was, however, here to put on a show. This was her performance, I was merely the talent. If she wanted to hold her fist deep inside me while I waited patiently to bear down on to it then that's what we were going to do.

"I can feel it! I can feel the head!" she announced to the room.

"The head?!" I thought, she had her fist buried so deep I'm surprised she wasn't feeling my tonsils. I said nothing, however, instead opting to squeeze my guardian angel's hand.

"Is it, Kevin's" one of the women gathered around finally blurted out.

"What the hell?"" I remember thinking first. Kevin was the husband of the mom currently pushed up to the elbow inside my birth canal. Of course it was Kevin's and what the hell kind of way would this be to find out if it wasn't anyway?! I must have shot the maid a confused look because she seemed to take pity on me.

Of all the care and attention I'd received since I'd arrived here hers was the only kind that didn't seem forced or fake. She genuinely seemed to care, about the mom, and about me. I shot a look across to her name tag to learn the name of my guardian angel, it was Cara.

With some amount of pity and regret, Cara leaned in close and whispered.

"Kevin's family have a history of having extremely huge heads when they're born," she said. "It's fine, you're going to be ok though, it always works out fine… in the end, I mean,"

That lying fucking bitch had just voided our contract, was my first thought. There's an explicit damn paragraph for exactly this condition and she hadn't disclosed it. A second or two later I realised there was exactly nothing I could do about it now. What was I going to do, walk out and cite our exit clause? Not likely.

"UUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAARGHHHHHHHhhh," I cried out, partly in frustration but mostly because the head was now barrelling down through the edge of my cervix and it was indeed huge.

Mom's hand was still buried wrist deep inside my pussy as the contraction peaked. Now, I knew should feel every spasm and twitch from inside my walls and it pleased me, just slightly, to feel the intense squeeze that crushed down onto her fist inside my body.

Just her tiny yelp of pain was enough to keep me going, to almost break into a smile at the thought. "Yeah, try taking it on from this side, bitch!" I wanted to say. But I didn't, as a professional.

But she too must have felt the head barrelling down into my cervix at the tips of her fingers because, when someone asked again, she confirmed that it was in fact in the family line.

Cheers and whoops erupted from seemingly every woman in the room except Cara. They were ecstatic and rowdy in celebrating what I could only surmise from here, was some apparent freak of nature.

The noise continued as I huffed and panted through gritted teeth on the party room floor. Angry, frustrated, and terrified, there was nothing I could do with those feelings now. The best I could hope for would be to redirect them, use them, and focus them to bring this baby down. My only ally, it seemed, was the maid of honor, Cara, who at least pity on me with kind, consoling eyes that said, "Yeah, this is why she choose a surrogate. Sorry, you've been scammed…"

"Hnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnghhhhhhhhuaaarghhhhhh!" I bore down with everything I had. An epic, giant push that made my face flush red and my ears ring under pressure. This was it, this was why I was here, nothing more, nothing less. Just another birth show.

The pressure had clearly got too much to bear for Mom as I felt her pull her fist from my body in a single thrust. Good for me, I now had a hollow empty feeling that I could imagine bearing the head into to fill. Bad for me was that now everyone else in the party felt empowered to join in.

Throughout the rests between each push the harem of girls surrounding me on the floor would do their best to goad me back into action.

"C'mon, make her push again!" someone would say to the mom.

"Make her really go for it this time, bigger than the last," another would suggest. "I bet she's going to push for HOURS,"

For her part, mom had made it her role to take charge of the birth by attending closely to every twitch, bulge, and convulsion my pussy would make as the head descended through it. During contractions she would slip two fingers inside and press hard against my perineum, giving me something to push against and aim for.

Between contractions she would coax her hand in and out, gingerly alternating between stretching, toying, and caressing my lips with long sweeping swipes of her fingers. Honestly, it was torturous heaven.

My legs and my abdomen began to spasm involuntarily as she toyed me to distraction. The way her fingers and hands made me feel between pains let my mind leave the room and float off to a decidedly more magical plain.

Every time she glanced over my clit I was reminded how unbearably sensitive it became as I pushed sending jolts of lighting down every extremity and letting my eyes roll back in my head. The crowd adored the tease.

And then, "OWWWuuaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargghhhhhhhhh," I heard some poor woman scream close by before realizing that those sounds were coming from my body as I was propelled back into it again. They accompanied an intense pressure that felt like I was somehow halting the progress of a cannonball descending through my abdomen while trying to heave behind it up a great hill. The head was not going to budge.

Clara, perhaps the only friend I had in this place, pivoted around to kneel in front of me until my head was resting just practically in her lap. Now, she had slid her hands into the cups of my bra and rolled my nipples between her thumb and forefinger again and again.

If it was some kind of sexual play designed to arouse and delight the audience then there would be nothing I could have done about it. But it wasn't. She knew what she was doing. The stimulation helped smooth and strengthen every contraction to be more productive, faster, and more powerful than before.

Things were getting more painful than before, but for the first time I could finally feel a sense of progress moving within me. Frankly, I needed the help.

"HUuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhnnnn," I strained down into my tightening belly. Now, there was just the slightest sense of movement that gave me some hope. A giant weight, something akin to an oblong bowling ball was being forced down into my birth canal with seismic shifts and starts.

"Owwwwhhuaaarh, HOOooo, hoooo, hooo," I panted and gasped for breath between contractions before heaving down again into Momma's waiting hands.

"HNNNNNNnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnuearghhhh!" Another momentous push, another millimeter of progress.

By now the women around us were screaming full-throated and aggressively to push harder, to really go for it, and get this baby moving. As if I somehow adored having this baby stuck descending halfway into my vagina. Idiots. I did everything I could to feed on that anger, to harness it and direct it into my next push.

Soon, the aggression in the audience turned sour.

"Come on, bitch, push that baby out already!" one woman shouted directly in my ear.

"What are you doing?! I could have had triplets out in this time," another said.

"Be my fucking guest," I wanted to reply.

Another giant heave and I could begin to grasp a sense of fullness emerging from the inside. The head was filling the birth canal to capacity, and then some. All I had to do now was push it through to the other side. Then, a dreaded instruction came from Mom.

"Turn around, change position, I want this baby sunny side up, into my hands."

"Fuck," I may have even said out loud.

My energy was all but sapped, I barely had enough left to kneel, never mind to turn around and push this mutant out looking straight at this stupid fucking woman's stupid fucking eyes.

Any protest, however, would all be for naught. This was her show, her birth, and her baby. I was merely the performer. The surrogate, if I was feeling especially self-important.

So, I did as she said, rolling my outsized belly around until it was facing up into the sky instead of drooping down near the floor. Cara helped, pulling me back onto her knees so that I could prop myself against her body, letting her arms fall around my belly to hold me in place. spread my knees out around Mom so that she was primed for delivery.

Then, all I had left to do was push. Great big hulking efforts that strained every muscle, tendon, and synapse to their very breaking point. The pressure and the pain were immense. Soon that sense of fullness became a sense of stretching agony as I pushed and heaved beyond what I ever thought possible.

"HMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmnrghhhhahhhhh!" I groaned. I wanted to scream out. I wanted to announce that I can't, I was stuck, I couldn't move it another fraction. Fuck the show, there was no room.

Regardless of what I could do, pulling on my thighs, stretching my legs wide, bucking my hips into my birthing partner's knees, I couldn't take another fraction.

Instead, I slowed. Changing my frantic desperate push into a slower, more controlled, and more powerful effort. The pain intensified tenfold as my insides burned with an iron-smelting fire and my body stretched and reshaped around this monstrous head bulging out from between my lips.

I opened my eyes for just a few seconds to see women crowding around, staring, gawping at my naked form. Now, they weren't jeering or mocking — they were in awe, shocked, and terrified at what I was doing, of what could be done, of what they might one day have to do

"Slow down!" Mom instructed, but for the first time I shook my head. No.

"It's COM—, I NEED TO, BNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGHHuuuuuuuuuuuaghhh!"

I balance on my maid's knees, as the head emerges and I grip Cara's hands from behind me. My head snaps back and my lungs are void of air when a rockslide blinding pressure batters into my body as the head is expelled in a whomp and a gush into the waiting mother's arms.

Whimpering, trembling, and convulsing, Cara holds me in place until I'm ready to speak, move, and even think coherently once again.

As the rest of the party busy themselves cooing and fussing over the new arrival, I get up and gather my discarded clothes and belongings from slowly from every corner of the room. I sneak into the corner to dress, shameful and embarrassed around the party guests. Time now, simply to go home and recover before embarking on the next one, I think.

I thank the maid for her help because god knows what I would have done here without her. Before I could leave,however she showed me one more kindness.

"WELL, THANKS FOR EVERYTHING, SEE YOU NEXT TIME, I GUESS," she says at a loud volume with a wink.

Most of the women there rush from the new mom to see me out at the door in a faux casual run.

"Oh, you're leaving?" the first asks. "Could I have your card, you know, just in case there's another event…later?"

"Sure, I smile," handing out one from my pocket.

"And me?" another asks.

"Of course," I smile, removing a stack.

Quickly another hand shoots out then another, then another. In very short order I hand out every business card in my collection until I'm writing my number on napkins and pamphlets.

As the door closes behind me I hear an argument start inside about who's up next.

"Guess it was a fine show," I note to myself, walking down the drive.

One of the sexiest videos ever

Del-Ken's Curse was the alpha and omega for so many of us. This primal, horrific pregnancy curse that grows relentlessly, kicking to life slowly despite being unwanted.

So much of modern belly expansion and pregnancy horror comes from this single comic - the phrase, "hard and unyeilding to the touch," alone - that it is a travesty to not celebrate this masterpiece on Tumblr.

Raise a glass to Del-Ken and Curse.

Del-Ken: https://www.deviantart.com/del-ken

That first moment of movement when you’re carrying something unknown. Something unnatural. The fear of feeling the life twisting inside of you, knowing that when you reach full term you’ll be bringing it into the world.

Being held captive, having them touch and prod at your belly, run countless exams and ultrasounds just to watch it grow. Prasing you and saying how they can’t wait for you to get bigger….

Love the idea of hiding a pregnancy, even more so of a pregnancy where the baby has gotten so big most people would just give up hiding it but not you. You suck in as best as you can and then put on a tight fitting corset and even at 7 months you manage to have a flat looking belly, despite the kicking and squirming still being just as hard…

waking up to a belly that has dropped a bit, notably bigger and more pushed out than the day before, and knowing i’ll really have to do some contortions and be out of breath all day in order to fit in my corset. staring at my roundness in the mirror with disgust, and pleading with it to cooperate as i wrestle the corset on.

having to deal with the coworker that put this thing in me, the jealousy i feel that he can walk away from our encounter and forget about it, while i grow heavy. he doesn’t even know his baby is squirming in me, making me nauseous. he just asks if i’m gaining a bit of weight like an oblivious asshole—that’s how i know the corset isn’t working as well as it used to. it’s buckling at the seams. pushing up against my shirt, a little—a shirt that would tear clean open if the corset were to burst. sometimes it feels like it’s close if i take a deep breath.

knowing that, despite all of this, i still have weeks upon weeks to go. it’s only going to get bigger.

i have no plan, have taken no time off. maybe i’ll push it out in the breakroom if i’m not careful. but that’s for the future—for now, i just try to get through the day and forget about my ripening, active belly.

*knocks you up in a horrorpreg way*

Anyone take commissions for fetish stories?

I know it's hard out here to charge for fetish work with AI, but I'm looking for a fetish writer to write a hyper-pregnancy story. Will pay. Contact me.

nothing i write can ever be funnier than the fact i habitually submit my weirdest masturbation fantasies to thousands of strangers for peer review

💕 Thinking about someone who's buried underneath their baby belly. So vast and heavy and undulating, it's hard to tell that there is a person struggling underneath~

More pregnant than person. Just a ball of flesh. Yum ~

Bright red, pulsing. Grumbling, gurgling, sounding like a pissed off monster.

That’s the best way to describe their belly: just monstrous. Just something utterly inhuman.

They could barely breathe. Even without their gargantuan belly pressing down on them like this, they are so packed, their lungs already didn’t have enough room to expand.

They quietly wail. Crying hurts almost too. It makes it harder to breathe but it’s all they could do.

They were so damn stupid to fuck around when they knew they were so fertile.

They squirm underneath their giant orb in the remains of their bed. Their bed had long given out underneath them and now, they fear the worst for their wooden weak floor.

They are still growing and they are hearing those ominous creaks again. It just might be their floor… or maybe even their belly…

They don’t know what’ll be worse: bursting or falling straight through a whole floor.

They cry harder. They can’t get any bigger. They don’t know what to do with all of these babies, their room is getting close in on them and they don’t know what’s going to burst or break next

They CAN’T get any bigger

But they most definitely will

“Please stop growing… I can’t take anymore… I’m going explode…” Their hands hover over their sensitive, groaning gut and beg. They are scared to even touch it.

And their belly responds with a dark rumble, signaling an impending growth spurt. The carrier whimpers and just prays as they try to prepare as best as they could

Don’t Pull Over!

This car birth audio was so fun to make. I took the many requests to be louder, so beware of volume! 🩵

ITS FINALLY DONE!

sorry it took so long lol but here’s the reward for the animation drive I had months ago! Thanks once again to everyone who donated <3

Imagine if you had a rare condition that when you're knocked up you can still be impregnated with more. It's not everytime but still often enough that you find yourself knocked up with triplets less than a few weeks in. You get to a point that when a load of cum is pumped into your over burdened womb you feel your midsection surge and shift as you expand with another life. Your hips and bust instinctively growing with each one to keep up. You'll find yourself trying to bred at any given moment watching your belly taking over your body. A slow constant growth that you couldn't stop if you wanted to. Too large to stop yourself from being taken advantage of as your knocked up again and again. You have no idea how many babies there are, all you know is it won't ever stop now. Your tummy already looking midterm only a month in begins getting warmer, you watch as it gets hotter and hotter and suddenly your first growth spurt takes over. Every part of your body swelling and growing making you more feminine and curvy. Your tummy jumping a few months of growth in one moment as you feel the first kick. And then kicks. It becomes a daunting feeling realizing all that you'll have to birth as you go through more and more growth spurts and the kicks grow in frequency. And all the while your man is just about to fuck you again.

Oh. My. God.

This is literally sososososo fucking hot I am so goddamn wet from reading that. How I wish that was real.

Write of someone trapped and struggling underneath their huge, squirming belly~

When the seed takes, he doesn't notice. He doesn't realize why his belly is getting bigger, or why his chest is tender and swollen. His partner knows exactly what's happening, how his sperm fertilized his eggs and they're now growing into babies inside his womb.

Every day, his partner feeds him, and he thinks he's just gaining weight. While he is packing on the pounds, there's something much bigger going on, right inside of his body, and he has no idea. He's getting fed more and more each day, filled with calories to grow the babies he doesn't know that he's carrying, his already burly, hairy body fattening day by day. In the third trimester, he almost grows visibly each day, his belly huge, heavy, and round, with a bulbous, red belly button sticking out. A dark line obscured by the hair on his belly confirms that that huge gut is packed full of kicking babies.

Soon, he gets so fat and pregnant, he's trapped in bed, hopelessly immobilized by his own gravid, fertile womb. His partner still feeds him thousands of calories every day, making sure that he keeps blowing up, keeps getting huge with his babies. His tits are round and swollen, becoming more and more painfully engorged with each passing day.

His partner rubs his belly, encouraging their babies to move and strain the already tightly stretched skin of his massive girth. The first baby is low in his pelvis, but he doesn't know what that heavy object wedged in his hips is. "Won't be long now," his partner says, squeezing his breasts so that milk sprays out in impressive streams. He's shocked, and doesn't know what those words mean until his belly seizes painfully, and a torrential burst of fluid floods out from between his spread legs.

Please baby, fill me up again. Pump me full, I crave to be bigger. Don’t stop until I’m too full of your seed to move

It's been a whole year since you got pregnant, and you still have no idea when you're going to pop. At this point, you're afraid to. After all, your belly slaps against your knees while walking (not that you do much walking these days, but you have to circulate blood through your legs somehow). It's a monstrous thing, your womb. It's full and tight, stretched beyond reasonable limits... but you've long since departed the shores of reason. That day when the ultrasound revealed you were going to have three babies, it feels like a lifetime ago. But here you are, all four of you. Yup, even at your ludicrous size, there's still only three in there. You don't need a scan to tell you that; you know the shape and size of your babies like the back of your hand. Your three overdue, perfectly healthy, impossibly large babies.

It seems like I spend all of my time reclined in bed, rubbing the sides of my ever-moving, painfully overdue baby belly, stretched to the brink of bursting with my overfed and overgrown triplets. They have very little room to move, which seems to agitate them, making them kick and shove against each other, and most of all, the tight walls of my womb. I'm wearing a pair of stretchy sweatpants that used to be baggy, and now are squeezed tight around my hips and ass, digging into the plush flesh, so fattened by pregnancy. My tits are stretching my shirt, nipples leaking milk near constantly, both teats already producing enough to feed the huge babies I'm growing.

I finally decide to make myself try and get out of bed, and I realize that today is the day I'm too big to even move. I think labor must be coming soon, and while I'm terrified, I'm also desperate to get these giant, heavy babies out of my belly. I swear I can hear my skin creaking with every wriggle and kick, my big, red, popped belly button regularly sticking out further when one of the babies kicks behind it.

All I've done is eat and grow. After gorging myself on more food than I've eaten in my life, enough food to make me gain fifty pounds overnight, my belly feels painfully tight, stuffed with the entire contents of my kitchen and the monstrous triplets I've been carrying inside my belly for a full twelve months, maybe more. I groan, leaning back about as far as my swollen girth will allow. It hurts so much more than usual, and I'm beginning to truly worry that I'm about to burst, when a harsh contraction makes me scream as a flood of fluids gushes from between my wide spread legs, like a dam had burst inside of me.

I've been feeling a baby's head low in my hips for months, but now more than ever. It feels like the baby would just fall out of me if it were a normal size. I'm stuck here, wailing and pushing, struggling to birth my horrifyingly oversized litter, crowning an impossibly huge head into my tight sweatpants for hours.

It's been a whole year since you got pregnant, and you still have no idea when you're going to pop. At this point, you're afraid to. After all, your belly slaps against your knees while walking (not that you do much walking these days, but you have to circulate blood through your legs somehow). It's a monstrous thing, your womb. It's full and tight, stretched beyond reasonable limits... but you've long since departed the shores of reason. That day when the ultrasound revealed you were going to have three babies, it feels like a lifetime ago. But here you are, all four of you. Yup, even at your ludicrous size, there's still only three in there. You don't need a scan to tell you that; you know the shape and size of your babies like the back of your hand. Your three overdue, perfectly healthy, impossibly large babies.

It seems like I spend all of my time reclined in bed, rubbing the sides of my ever-moving, painfully overdue baby belly, stretched to the brink of bursting with my overfed and overgrown triplets. They have very little room to move, which seems to agitate them, making them kick and shove against each other, and most of all, the tight walls of my womb. I'm wearing a pair of stretchy sweatpants that used to be baggy, and now are squeezed tight around my hips and ass, digging into the plush flesh, so fattened by pregnancy. My tits are stretching my shirt, nipples leaking milk near constantly, both teats already producing enough to feed the huge babies I'm growing.

I finally decide to make myself try and get out of bed, and I realize that today is the day I'm too big to even move. I think labor must be coming soon, and while I'm terrified, I'm also desperate to get these giant, heavy babies out of my belly. I swear I can hear my skin creaking with every wriggle and kick, my big, red, popped belly button regularly sticking out further when one of the babies kicks behind it.

All I've done is eat and grow. After gorging myself on more food than I've eaten in my life, enough food to make me gain fifty pounds overnight, my belly feels painfully tight, stuffed with the entire contents of my kitchen and the monstrous triplets I've been carrying inside my belly for a full twelve months, maybe more. I groan, leaning back about as far as my swollen girth will allow. It hurts so much more than usual, and I'm beginning to truly worry that I'm about to burst, when a harsh contraction makes me scream as a flood of fluids gushes from between my wide spread legs, like a dam had burst inside of me.

I've been feeling a baby's head low in my hips for months, but now more than ever. It feels like the baby would just fall out of me if it were a normal size. I'm stuck here, wailing and pushing, struggling to birth my horrifyingly oversized litter, crowning an impossibly huge head into my tight sweatpants for hours.

Divine Pleasures

Campus Lake

They tell you swimming is safe. It’s something every girl worries about at some point, after discovering that periods and pregnancy are things, especially if they show you videos, or you look them up on your own. The sweating, screaming, seeing that tender, sensitive slit bulge and stretch and bleed… Ugh. It’s enough to make any sane girl swear off sex, for a while at least.

You start panicking about bringing anything even close to your feminine opening that might have gotten sperm on it. Your brother’s towel, a pair of panties you’ve seen someone touch and you can’t 100% confirm they didn’t sabotage it with just enough semen to make you pregnant. It only takes one sperm, after all. That’s what they pound into your head while showing the value of abstinence. But that rhetoric makes it easy to wonder where that fateful one could be that will put a baby into your belly without even knowing it. Everything becomes a potential host for forcing you into motherhood by accident, especially as you realize how disgusting boys are, carelessly slinging their potent, fertile seed all over, sometimes not even washing their hands.

But fairly quickly, someone realizes you haven’t showered, or you’re refusing to go to the pool or something because someone could have cum in the water at some non-specific point, and you’re not ready to have a baby. For all you know their seed could still be swimming around, invisible and just looking for a ready and waiting egg nestled in your unprotected body. And they’ll sit you down and explain how it really works, or at the very least plunk a book in your lap and tell you to read up. You find out those cells have a fairly short life once exposed to open air, or water, anything but the inside of a female body. And you relax, then go and enjoy the pool, or finally wash off all that dirt.

So, in my freshman year in college, when my friends asked me if I wanted to go swimming in the lake, the idea anything like that could happen didn’t even cross my mind. I simply laid back in the water, utterly relaxed. Everyone seemed to feel it too, the water just a shade warmer than we thought it would be, just perfect for maximum comfort. So easy to just lay back close to the shore, covered all the way to our chins, and just enjoy the sensation of the gentle current tugging at our bodies.

We spent a decent chunk of the day submerged in the water, my friends and I. Unaware that anything was happening, that anything COULD be happening to us. We didn’t realize that the lab up near where the source of the river that fed this lake came from was using it as a handy disposal for biological runoff as a result of their experiments.

And so we happily opened ourselves, left our vulnerable bodies utterly defenseless as the mutated semen ran through the stream. Far more resilient and potent than normal sperm, we would later discover that it could last months before even needing to enter a female host, even longer once inside. The water just washed over our bathing suits and labia, barely any trickling inside. But thousands of the superpowered cells were entering out feminine tunnels every minute. Swimming deeper and deeper into our bodies, seeking our bellies. Inevitably finding them.

Additional chemicals in the water sent our reproductive organs into overdrive. Without noticing, our ovaries began to go to work. Preparing a viable egg far faster than normally possible, before releasing it into the first of many of the eager sperm cells. Our wombs began forming their uterine lining, sending pleasant tingles and shivers through us as we soaked.

In retrospect, that was the worst realization. All of us kept letting out contented sighs and moans, our feminine bodies giving us so much gentle pleasure as they went about doing what they were meant to do by nature. Reinforcing our impending unwanted pregnancies with wave after wave of tingling joy.

I arched my back slightly, moaning quietly, as the bizarre sperm began its assault on my ripe, fertile egg. The walls slowly broke own, yielding to the hundreds of cells seeking to join with it. And finally… one did. And in an instant, it was all assured, no going back. The swelling, the movement inside of a life taking form. The aching, the tears and screams and sweat. Pregnancy. Labor. Childbirth. Motherhood. Laying there in the water, shivering at a slight pleasant tingle, I was impregnated. My fate sealed. All that was left was living it.

The cells began to divide quickly inside me. Our every biological process had been changed by the polluted waters, and while all of us had a very different experience, some better than others, every one of us was destined to have delivered our unwanted children by the next day. The one cell became two. Then four. Eight, then sixteen, then thirty-two, faster and faster. Meanwhile, the growing ball of cells nestled into my uterus, joining itself to me, causing me to gasp and briefly run fingertips over my tingling, now life-filled midsection.

Once all of us were gestating our unasked for offspring, some instinct took over, and we al suddenly wanted to go home. So goodbyes were said, and we all went home, to swell and deliver. Every one of us had a different creature forming deep within our fertile bodies, taking up more space by the moment. Every one of our experiences that night would be different, some of us wouldn’t survive, some would be scarred for life. But there was no changing it now, nothing to do but let these things we’d been forced to bear gestate in our bellies until they were ready to emerge.

I was already showing slightly by the time I walked into my dorm. Small tingles of energy coursed through me, my body once more rewarding me for being a mommy-to-be, thrilled at the prospect of bearing a life within it. I stepped into the shower, letting the clean water run over my slowly swelling form, washing off the evidence of what had happened, pouring thousands of mutant super-sperm of various species down the drain, to run over another unsuspecting girl, to slip inside and force her into motherhood.

I dried off after, gasping as I toweled off my chest. My nipples were incredibly sensitive, my breasts aching. Unbeknownst to me, they were beginning to fill with milk, changing bit by bit to be able to better care for the child I didn’t yet know I was carrying. My body was now starting to struggle with the changes being forced upon it by my condition. My hips ached as they tried to flare out to make delivery easier. My legs burned as they tried to adapt to my increasing weight and shifting center of gravity.

The entire time my belly continued to swell. The slightest touch made pleasure surge through my being, the inexorably growing orb intensely sensitive. The skin was tight and surprisingly warm, and slight pressure showed it was firm, unyielding as my womb hardened to protect the offspring I was forced to gestate.

I began to panic. How had I missed my belly growing like this? Then I felt something move. I let out a cry of alarm, both hands holding my gravid midriff as the pressure grew, my baby continuing to take up more space. My pregnancy was obvious on my slim frame, and I stared in open-mouthed horror at myself in the bathroom mirror.

Heat began to build inside me. I was sweating slightly, panting as I felt heavier by the moment. I could feel my growth tugging at my palms as I cupped the warm, fertile bump in both hands. I began to whimper, confusion and fear making my eyes begin to water. I was really pregnant, something was growing in me… something I would have to birth…

Oh god… birth… all at once all those memories of the videos and the lectures returned to me. The rumors of women getting pregnant by strange creatures, laying eggs or delivering animals or alien creatures… terrifying monsters torturing their way out of their screaming mother’s bodies… I had never had sex, had barely even masturbated. I didn’t want to give birth, didn’t want to be a mother. I didn’t even know who the father was… or what the father was…

But I was getting closer to that moment. It grew nearer by the second, as my unwanted baby took over more and more space within me, forcing my womb to stretch, my body to change as I adapted to the pregnancy that had been forced upon me. My hips radiated pain, the bone desperately trying to force itself wider so they wouldn’t break as I tried to expel whatever was growing inside me. My feminine lips swelled as well, becoming puffy and sensitive as they prepared to have my firstborn slip between them.

I staggered naked into the bedroom, sobbing and calling for help. But I knew the walls were almost completely soundproof, nobody would hear me. I couldn’t remember where I left my phone, and although I tried to find it to call an ambulance to help me, to get this baby OUT before I had to experience labor and childbirth, my swollen womb, the new center of gravity and unfamiliar form hindered me at every turn. I stumbled and staggered my way around my living space, feeling the life inside me getting closer and closer to being born. Every move from inside made me whimper, sobbing and pleading to please, please let this be a dream, let me wake up…

The pressure of whatever I was gestating grew worse and worse, making me feel like I was about to explode with how pregnant I was, the life inside me massive. I caught sight of myself in the mirror and let out a choked sob. I had been skinny, a little short for my age. Now… my pregnancy changed the shape of my entire body, ankles swollen, chest having gone up at least a cup size with small beads of milk starting to form on my aching nipples.

My midsection… I could hardly believe it was mine. I was clearly about to go into labor any second. My belly button was poking out, and I could feel it throbbing. I could it was insanely sensitive, the slightest touch would send me to my knees. Even the slight breeze in my apartment was sending shivers of raw sensation coursing over my full-term swell. A line went all the way down the middle of my fecund orb, splitting it in half vertically, a dark, vivid mark.

Then a contraction finally came, as I stared in horror at my body, the form that had been changed in almost every way by my terrifying condition. The pain was immediate, intense, forcing me to clutch my fertile midsection as I fell to the ground.

It was time.

I was about to have a baby.

I called for help as another contraction gripped me tightly, begging for anyone to come save me. God the pressure, the feeling of impossible fullness… something had to give, something had to break or else I was going to burst apart like a balloon…

And yet, I didn’t. the head of whatever thing was inside just pressed down harder with each powerful spasm, wedging itself deep into my cervix. The labor pains came closer together, somehow grew stronger and even more agonizing than they had started off as. I let out a ragged scream as the strongest contraction yet coursed through me, when suddenly, the pressure eased. With a popping sound, I could feel something running out of me. I looked into the mirror before me, resting on my knees and leaning back, just in time to see the amniotic fluid come gushing from between my puffy feminine lips.

I moaned as I watched the strange substance run from between my legs, it’s appearance just another terrible reminder that the moment had come to deliver this unwanted creature. A thick, musky aroma filled the air as my juices soaked my thighs, ran down over my ankles, and soaked into the carpet. The puddle seemed to almost shimmer, almost like it was some form of oil, faint rainbows playing over the surface as the liquid shifted and pooled before being absorbed by the fibers. Its consistency was strange, almost like mercury, solid and yet liquid at the same time.

I took the merciful pause in the agony of childbirth to gulp down a few breaths. I was grateful I hadn’t tried to get dressed after exiting the shower, as removing anything I had on would be nigh impossible right now. But then, the pain of my body being forced wide open around a living being returned as another cramp assaulted me. I let out a raw scream as the irresistible need to bear down on the large, hard object forcing my cervix apart pounded through my being. Tears ran down my face as I pushed with everything I had, fingers gripping the carpet tight, forming fists as I screamed my unwanted offspring into my birth canal.

I panted, calling weakly for someone, anyone to help before the next contraction. then, there was only more agonized cries, as I felt more of the creature I’d been forced to carry shove into my vagina. This massive, fully-developed child had grown so quickly. It was hard to imagine, as I sobbed and tried to force it down my aching, stretching tunnel toward my quivering entrance, that at one point this was just a single egg that met with a sperm. So small I couldn’t even see it.

Now, that thing that was once so minuscule just a few short hours ago was torturing it’s way out of my body, making me spasm and moan, the pitch of my voice getting higher as more of my most delicate parts were forced to open wider than they ever had before. “Please, please come OUT OF ME NOW I DON’T WANT THIS!!!” I sobbed, toes curling into tight balls as I put all my weight on my arm, leaning way back and pushing with everything I had. Dimly, I registered a ripping sensation, as the creature I was delivering tore through my hymen. By being forced to become a mother, I’d lost my virginity to my own unwanted child.

I looked at the mirror through my tears, and saw my narrow slit starting, at last, to bulge out. As I continued to bear down, more and more of the soft flesh began to tent forward. A teardrop shape gradually formed within my tender vaginal lips as the head started, inch by terrible inch, to crown. The realization caused despair to overwhelm me once more, realizing that it was so close, I was about to give birth, to become a mother against my will.

There was a baby torturing it’s way out of my body right now, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. All I could do was deliver.

A raw scream tore from my throat as the crowning burn consumed my virgin genitals. My hips were sending their own warning messages, having only been able to widen so far before the moment arrived. The shoulders were shoving forcefully against them, causing the bone to strain and ache hideously as the pressure grew. I could only hope the thing inside me didn’t get stuck, or worse, break my hips as it emerged.

“Oh god… oh god… OH GOD NOOOOOOOOO!!!” I bellowed, throwing my head back and giving everything I had to finishing this awful task. The head forced me open wide, and I felt more liquid leaking from my aching womanhood. The amniotic fluid helped the thing I’d gestated slip forward, and as the contraction ended I looked at my reflection once more. I was horrified to see my formerly narrow, delicate opening had been forced impossibly wide by something light blue and covered in scales.

“What… what am I giving b-b-BIRTH TOAHHHGODPLEASE!!!” With every push, I could feel another gush of birthing fluids squirt from my nether regions. It was official, whatever was in me wasn’t human. I was giving the gift of life to a monster I never wanted inside me. All I could do is push, and hope it was over quickly. Even as my hips throbbed, and my slit felt as though it was about to burst into flame, I put all my effort into getting all of this over with, praying that, somehow, I could go back to my life as a college student once this abomination was out of my body.

I could feel the scales catching on my lips as my terrifying offspring surged forward, my screams catching in my throat as the sensation reminded me of the horrible reality of what I was birthing. I arched my back, opened my knees as wide as possible, and as yet another staggering spasm pounded into my body, I bore down with every bit of energy in my body. Slowly, bit by bit, scale by scale, the head slowly slipped from my aching, straining womanhood, each scale snagging the tender flesh, leaving small scratches and cuts.

Then, I spasmed, as the entire head, at last, erupted from my dripping birth canal. I lowered my hand down between my thighs, rubbing the head of my unwanted child. It was slick with amniotic fluid, smooth and scaly. I ran my fingers back, up to where my monstrous child merged with my soft skin, causing me to shudder as I felt the contrasting sensations.

It was my child. It grew in me, was being born from me.

I was a mother.

Then, it was time to begin on the shoulders. I had no more screams left, exhaustion beginning to make itself known from the difficulty of this delivery. I could only whimper as I struggled to get the widest part of my baby out, feeling myself open even more than before, until with a shudder, one of the shoulders emerged. With one more desperate, toe-curling effort, the other arm slipped out of me. A sobbing groan escaped me as I felt a hot, wet, almost orgasmic rush of hot wetness, the body of my firstborn slipping out quickly, accompanied by another surge of fluid.

The whole room stank of sweat and my own juices. I let myself fall back at last, arms collapsing out from under me. My knees splayed to either side, legs having long gone numb. I could hear a strange cry between my legs, my child calling for its mother from the spot it had slid to after being born. I scooted backward, away from it, until I reached my couch to prop myself on.

Panting, exhausted, I took in the appearance of what I’d nurtured within my womb. It looked almost like a normal baby. I noticed the thing seemed to be female. My daughter. My baby girl monster. Covered in blue-ish scales, she still had two feet, two hands. There was a short tail growing from the base of the little thing’s spine, and two little horns on her forehead. Tiny wings flapped on my baby’s back as she reached for her mother.

A cord connected us. Proved I’d birthed it. My baby. My poor baby girl that hadn’t asked to be born.

No… no, I can’t… can’t raise this thing, I’m in college, I can’t…

I can’t love this little reptile creature…

My daughter…

My poor, strange baby girl…

A tribute to heavy bellies.

Bellies that fill a whole lap.

Bellies that hang down.

Bellies that pull.

Bellies that sit low in the hips.

Bellies that make you stretch.

Bellies that weigh against you.

Bellies that take your breath away.

Bellies that grind into your pelvis.

Bellies that are one fuck away from labor.

Bellies that bulge.

Bellies that deform.

Bellies that sway as you move.

Bellies that grow. Grow. Grow.

Bellies that take a life of their own.

Heavy. Low. Pulsing. Pressing. Contracting.

Bellies.

Have Me Swollen

I don’t know if you’re still taking requests but maybe you could write something about a maternity ward with horrible policies that actually have their nursing staff not only tell their patients to not push until the doctor arrives, but hold in and/or push the baby back in? And like, they’re terribly understaffed so their patients have to wait hours and hours for the doctor to free up.

Yup! I’m always up for requests. There’s so many possibilities with this one anon.

The doctor is not in

The maternity ward at Mercy hospital was always known for being underfunded and having low staff. The entire ward only had one doctor, and the nurses were known to ensure that patients waited for him to arrive before delivering. Pearl doubted this until she went into labor with her own child.

She arrived deep in labor, barely able to stand from the constant contracting of her stomach, however she was completely ignored by the staff. After about an hour of standing in pure agony she had enough.She tapped a nurse on the shoulder, clutching the underside of her belly. “E-excuse me, my contractions are 3 minutes apart. Can I get a room?” She begged. The nurse rolled her eyes. “We can get you a seat in about an hour, then maybe a bed.” Pearls eyes widened. “I won’t be able to make it that long, my contractions are-“ another contraction hit her and she was brought to her knees before the nurse who rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine, if you’re going to be a drama queen about it.”

Pearl was dragged to a small dingy room filled with 4 other labouring women, all screaming in full on hysterics. Pearl gulped as she saw what was happening around her. The women next to her, a young blond was drenched in sweat, a nurse holding a hand over her bulging, near purple pussy. “Ahah Stop please- just-“ The women broke into a low moan before the nurse released her hand ever so slightly, allowing Pearl to see the top of a baby’s head. The nurse merely pushed it back in, causing the mother to scream, eyes rolling to the back of her head. Pearl turned to the girl on the other side of her, who was pushing as hard as she could, clearly getting no where. “What’s going on?” She asked worriedly. The girl threw her head back, panting wildly. “Doctor- ah.. isn’t free.. hasn’t been for ngh 12 hours.” Pearl felt fear grip her, although it was once again overtaken by a intense contraction. A older nurse came in, a man in his 50s or 60s. “Alright open them up.” He instructed. “W-what?” “Your legs.” Pearl apprehensively did as told, but felt a pair of tight panties be forced onto her thighs then pulled all the way up to her hips. “What is this?” She asked, voice trembling. The man rolled her eyes. “We don’t all have time to keep the babies in until the doctors free. This’ll do the job for us.” He replied. Blood drained from Pearls face. The man reached out and rubbed Pearls massive stomach hard, feeling as it tightened with another contraction. “Don’t worry though. Probably won’t take more than a few days.”

Happy b-birthday to- 😣 me~

"Do you think I should go to the doctor?" Your friend texts with this video, with a silly background song to hide her fear.

Just three weeks ago, her belly had been normal. Not flat like a model, but *normal*. Empty. She had been able to run a bit and touch her toes and nothing was weird.

Then, she told you about an intense dream she had, where she had been paralyzed by light and strange creatures she couldn't really see, as if her eyes were forcing her to censor them, experimented on her. The 8 hours of sleep felt like weeks, she said, as they examined every organ in her body with technology she didn't understand.

Finally, she awoke in her bed, having lived a strange experience that she was determined to forget.

It was only a few weeks later, however, that she sent you this video, showing somethings unknown tumbling about in her belly. Whatever is inside her, and there are more than three, are growing more active with each hour.

You love being a nun. You honor your vows of chastity so much you don’t even touch yourself. You hide your body under long robes and do penance every time your mind strays. 

You have dreams of shadowy caresses that leave you sticky and sweating, and you have to spend long hours in chapel to atone. You take to wearing a heavy chain around your waist and between your legs. 

Your belly starts swelling, and you will yourself not to notice. You pretend it isn’t happening for months. Your hips and back ache with the weight you refuse to acknowledge. Your breasts are full and tender. Your nipples rub against the rough fabric of your robes and it lights you on fire. 

You lay awake at night and feel the thing inside you moving. It kicks so hard your robes ripple. You cradle your belly and pray to God for answers. You pray for it to go away.

Eventually the shapeless black of your robes can’t save you anymore. The mother superior chastises you for being a whore. She places an iron collar around your throat to remind you of your sins. She tells you to do penance where everyone can see your punishment.

You weep and swear your virginity. You beg for help. She is unmoved. She tells you to swear on the Virgin Mother and maybe your innocence will be proved, but more likely you will be punished for claiming her holiness.

You kneel at a pew to do as you are told. Your knees are bare on the cold floor. Your hips burn as they spread under the weight of your bastard. Your belly hangs with nothing to support it. Pain rips through you as your womb tightens. She tells you that is punishment for your sins.

You pray through a haze of days. Your belly grows, and sags, and writhes. You spread your knees and rock your hips and sob. Your breasts are so tight they throb. Your robe strains against your girth. You keep your hands on the pew.

Water trickles down your legs. Your womb is nothing but agony, squeezing down on the monster inside you. It rips you open. Your bones creak. Instinct tells you to reach between your legs and ease its way. The mother superior seizes your wrists and binds them to the pew.

You scream and scream. You are a warning to the other harlots in the convent. Your whelp spreads you open. You push and strain, but there’s no one to help you or soothe you. You scream for God’s help and hear no answer. 

There is a night, and a day, and its head slips out in a gush of fluids that puddle around your knees. You sag with exhaustion, unable to keep going, pain leaving you incoherent.

Gravity does its job eventually. Inch by agonizing inch, your massive offspring squeezes out of you, changing your body forever. When you push a demon into the church, everyone will know you for the devil's bride.

"It doesn't feel right! It's not right! Something feels wrong! You're not listening to me!"

Shout-out if you want that to be you. Dm me.

“OH!! OH GOD!!! I’M GIVING BIRTH!! ”