Latest Posts by birthbitchii - Page 2

THE GREAT BIG GRAVID PREGNANCY KINK ASK GAME

There are some very fun preg or belly kink ask games out there, but the one's I've seen are typically focused on one flavor of said kink, or aren't strictly pregnancy-focused or are heavily gendered.

So I thought I'd to cook up 50 fun, kinky but not outright explicit, questions for an ask game. All pretty broad in application, and gender neutral! Please enjoy! _______________________________________________________

What's your favorite aspect of pregnancy? What makes it hot for you in a kink sense?

Would you rather be with someone who IS pregnant, or be pregnant YOURSELF? (or both?)

Do you prefer pregnant bellies that sit high, or carry low?

Do you prefer a pregnant belly that leans more "torpedo belly" or "beachball belly", or something else?

Favorite pregnancy blemish (stretchmarks, veins, linea nigra, ect), if any?

If you could only pick one, would you keep hyperpreg, rapid preg, or perma preg? Why?

Favorite NON-physical attribute of pregnancy? (Ex: cravings, pregnancy brain, nesting)

Most niche part of pregnancy that fits into your kink?

How pregnant is TOO pregnant where it stops being hot?

Thoughts on ill-fitting/outgrowing clothes with pregnancy?

Do you prefer bare, partially covered, or tightly clothed pregnant bellies?

Do you have a favorite occupation to see a pregnant person performing?

In preg kink writings, when a pregnancy is abnormal in any way, do you prefer when it's supernatural (fantasy), technological (sci-fi), explained some other way, or not explained at all?

Who are some of your favorite preg kink artists/blogs?

Do you prefer when a pregnancy is super encumbering, or doesn't limit the pregnant person in an extreme way?

How do you feel about pregnancy and stuckage?

How do you feel about pregnancy and stuffing, or vore, or wg, or inflation, or any other kink that increases belly size?

How do you feel about pregnancy paired with another, non-belly related kink? (asker may specify)

Thoughts on pregnant belly worship?

Thoughts on pregnant belly manipulation? (like pushing on or shaking a pregnant belly)

What's something kinky you would love to do to a pregnant belly, outside of the realm of normal pampering or worship?

What's an outfit you'd love to see a pregnant person wear?

For kink purposes, what's your favorite stage of pregnancy?

Favorite view for a belly? (straight on, side profile, POV looking down as though it's yours, ect)

Do you prefer a pregnant person dressed to the nines, or basically in their pajamas?

Describe one of your most self indulgent preg kink fantasies in full.

Do you prefer super active pregnant bellies, or bellies with calmer babies?

Do you prefer smooth and blemishless pregnant bellies, or ones with lots of marks and veins and strain?

Favorite non-belly physical attribute of a pregnant person?

Favorite state for a belly button on a pregnant belly? (innie, outie, flat, ect)

Thoughts on pregnant bellies with a soft layer of chub around them?

Favorite word to describe a pregnant belly?

Do you prefer when a pregnant person is "maxed out" and at the height of their possible growth, or big but still growing, lending to some anticipation for what's to come?

What's your ideal rapid preg growth speed? How long should it ideally take to go from a flat tummy to full term?

Do you prefer a large/overdue singleton, or a batch of multiples?

What what point does "high order multiples" become "rapid preg" to you?

Thoughts on monsterpreg? If you enjoy it, what's your favorite monster to be/see someone pregnant with?

If you enjoy pregnancy encumbering mobility, do you prefer if its due to size, or weight? or both?

Do you think of a pregnancy kink as a more "vanilla" kink, or as one of the weirder ones?

What are some aspects of pregnancy that you enjoy in a kink way that AREN'T the pregnancy itself? (Ex: breeding, labor, birth, lactation, ect)

Have you told anyone you know IRL about your pregnancy kink? If so, who (within reason privacy wise), and how did they take it?

Favorite piece of pregnancy-centric media? (could be for kink purposes or otherwise)

Favorite part of a pregnant belly?

Thoughts on belly piercings on pregnant bellies?

In a kink context, what's an activity you would you like to be doing/see someone doing while pregnant?

At what point does a pregnant belly go from "big" to "huge"?

Do you have any preg kink "guilty pleasures"? What is one, if you have any and are willing to share?

Do you have another kink that you enjoy mixing with pregnancy? If so, what is it?

Do you have any irl stories or anecdotes that relate to your pregnancy kink in way way? Care to share?

In as much detail as possible, what's your IDEAL pregnant belly?

Pregnant with many small monsters, squirming and and making you lopsided, or one giant monster, that stretches and throws you off balance?

Multiples!!!! The squirming and multiple sources of movement are always a favorite of mine. Pregnant brood belly that's practically writhing from how much life stuffed in it. Monster multiples that are constantly moving in my packed belly and making my stomach look like it's own separate being 🤤

Looking for someone who wants to RP a shade darker, where you are the unwilling subject of my insidious impregnation. Whether I am a passive tech whiz, alien race, summoned demon, maybe a PETA person trying to save the whales (or Bigfoot), I would love to experiment on you and make you swell with creatures, eggs, babies, demons, somethings beyond your understanding without any empathy.

Please PM me if you would like to be ruthlessly filled.

So Painful

I saw over your shoulder that you were browsing baby clothes again. You started taking more supplements to aide in hormone therapy. You kept me in the loop about your doctor visits. I watch as the chemicals take hold.

Your hair grows, your breasts become swollen and sore on occasion. Your hips and back ache as your body prepares for motherhood. It looks good on you. Your skin is glowing.

It's a weeknight when you call me over, saying that your mood swings were making being alone unbearable. So you think I should stay to help.

You also wanted more of my famous roll cake.

The very roll cake that I've mixed your silly cocktail into the powdered sugar that coats the top, and if I had extra-like I did this time around- I used some in the fluffy whipped cream filling. I made 2 cakes for you. You were so excited that I had to keep telling you to finish your dinner.

I sat idly by and indulged in my simple strawberries and sugar with not silly whipped cream filling I had left over from the cake. I watched you cut piece after piece, joyfully eating away. "H-hey maybe you should slow down.." I mention loosely.

You sent me messages from work with a small plate with a slice pictured on your desk. Meanwhile, I'm scanning over the local directory of men at the local offices around our apartments. Then cross referencing them with a sperm donor database. Being half yourself and half mine seemed to be your preferred state of being.

You became very frisky and naughty for me. You wanted to show me what I owned and what I do to you. Just for me, all for me. Those pictures of cake on your desk gave way to you spread under your desk, cubicle door closed, mouth covered and eyes completely glazed over as I watched the huge dildo occupy your aching dripping cunny. I bought you a small machine to pump that large cock into you and to my surprise you had begun taking it to work.

I decide to challenge you to keep working while the setting was just strong enough that you couldn't ignore it. Watching your body be rhythmically jolted, one hand under your desk as you played with your pussy. You came so many times.

You've become my perfect cum slut.

You came home later that night on unsteady legs, still tripping and stumbling around from your brain still floating around.

A few weeks later, I had made my selection, and I take you out of your apartment and lead you to mine, "I have a surprise for you, bunny."

A married man (yes I made him keep his ring on), standing in my apartment. He was a tall man, well-kept and strong angular features. His cologne might have been..altered to aide in the experience.

"You never told me you had a husband, Mistress," you say as the man approaches you, holding out a hand to take yours and kiss it. I don't say much as I think about how much time it would take for you to fall back into being a bunny. My bunny babygirl.

It was a beautiful sight.

We have dinner and you got on with him quite well, laughing along and touching his body with great intrigue. He responds with greedy touches on your body, picking you up and guiding him onto his lap. Your head darts in my direction, almost for approval. He holds you close, cupping and fondling your swollen breasts.

Lost in his firm touch, you relax into him as he rubs your belly, lazily rolling your nipple as I fix your dessert. I can see his mind scanning your body, taking memory of all of your curves and everything that makes you tick. "You're being such a good girl, right now," he encourages, nibbling against your neck. That makes you shy.

"Warren, dear, do you need anything?" I ask.

"Panties..off..now," he rises from the couch, lost in the pheromones I sprayed all over your clothes as he hikes your pencil skirt up, exposing your cute lacy undies to me. Then pulling them down as you still stood, frozen in place and a little stunned. I could see it in your eyes you were confused by how quick he moves.

You step out of the fabric and straighten your skirt, blush turning your face pink. You couldn't believe he did that. You turn to look at the man who sat back and admired your body. I approach with dessert. I steal you a distance away and begin feeding you- which you begin to smile again.

"Mistress, why did he take my panties off?" you ask simply, using my eyes as refuge.

That's the last thing you remember. Sitting in my apartment naked under your skirt.

You tell me about this man- Warren- taking you back to your apartment last night. You explain excitedly about a date you barely remember- only highlighting the laughter and insane dinner at this fancy restaurant. He was all over you and all for you.

I couldn't be happier. I ask if you ended your night on a good note and you reply with the correct answer. You ask me if you were safe for him to be cumming in you raw, knowing I keep better track of your ovulation nowadays. Must be the horomones.

Silly bunny.

I lie and say that you had two weeks. For fourteen days straight, he updated me about how much he stuffed his fat cock into your little pussy. He shows me pictures of you laying in a daze, eyes rolling back as he pumped load after load until you couldn't hold it anymore.

The plan worked flawlessly.

"M-mistress, there's something wrong.." you tell me on a call.

I come over and I take you to a doctor. He pulls up the ultrasound and you couldn't believe it.

A little outline of a baby in its beginning stages growing in your womb.

"Congratulations," I say to you, "You got your wish, baby bunny."

OHMYGODOHMYGIDOHMYHOD

am i a terrible, icky bunny if i say this i want this to be real? i want this :( i want this :(

Jenny posed for her son's birthday photo. He was turning three today, and although he didn't technically have a birthday, she celebrated his long past due date every year. She'd been just eighteen when he'd been conceived, a senior in high school with a bright future left knocked up and alone by her deadbeat boyfriend. She knew she from the moment she first heard his heartbeat that she wanted her son, but she also knew that she couldn't take care of him as a single mother with nothing but a high school diploma and a dream. She needed more time.

Luckily for Jenny, she had been accepted to the medical program of a top university, and they just so happened to be researching the effects and long-term side effects of multi year pregnancies. She hadn't even settled into her dorm room before she signed up for the study.

Over the course of the next three years, the data gathered by the study led to the creation of a variety of new drugs. An inhaler that improved oxygen intake to compensate for reduced lung capacity. A cream that drastically increased skin elasticity. Pills to improve the speed and efficiency of digestion. And, of course, the most effective birth blockers ever created.

Another significant development was that Jenny had developed something between a clique and a cult around her. Nearly two dozen people all obsessed with pregnancy in one way or another. Some loved to feel their bodies grow obscenely large with overdue babies or multiples. Others used pregnancy accelerating drugs to pop out twins and triplets almost weekly. One girl was practically all womb, a nearly spherical belly filled with more than twenty very overdue babies, unable and unwilling to do anything but be hand fed and passionately fucked by those members of the club who loved serving the whims of the preggos. This certainly wasn't what Jenny had been expecting her time at university to look like, but she wouldn't trade it for the world.

Thanks to @danny198725 for submitting the photo for this story. If you've got a picture you'd like to see featured on one of my stories, feel free to dm me! Thanks for reading.

🥵🥵🤰

That belly squish tho

not too happy with this one but i was horny and had to get it out

self indulgent internal view versions under the cut

Crowded Street

               “Wow, you look like you’re ready to start pushing that thing out any second now!”

               The voice came from right next to me as I walked down the street, and somehow I knew that they were addressing me. I spun toward where I could swear it had come from, but found only the sea of faces that was the busy street on a weekend. I tried to find someone looking too smug, someone suspicious, but everything was just a press of color and noise.

               I shook my head, trying to dismiss the throwaway words that shouldn’t have been bothering me to this degree. I passed by a store window, and took a moment to examine myself. Nope, no pregnant belly here, just like it was this morning. Just a five-foot-five seventeen-year-old girl, a few months into my senior year, my midsection largely flat, though with just a bit of softness to it.

               I took a moment to appreciate my appearance, as I’d been feeling especially attractive since I got out of the shower this morning. My B cups breasts were especially perky, my skin a pleasant, warm shade of brown, my black hair still short as we entered fall. I was wearing a cute t shirt, skinny jeans, and a nice pair of shoes. All said I wasn’t exactly sexy, but I felt pretty darn cute. I didn’t normally pride myself of my appearance, but… today had felt special.

               Still… that quick phrase still wouldn’t leave my mind. I didn’t know why someone would say that, they must have just been trying to be jerks. I continued walking down the street, looking through windows and just enjoying the sounds of the bustling crowd around me.

               I just couldn’t shake this strange feeling, however, no matter how much I tried to distract myself. An odd tension deep inside at the core of my being, like something was being pulled at or stretched. As I kept up my wandering it steadily got stronger, until I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I walked into a store and found a quiet corner, then lifted my shirt, trying to make sure everything was ok.

               The dark skin of my formerly flat belly was protruding, just a teeny bit. It was barely noticeable, and I wasn’t sure if I wasn’t just letting my mind play tricks on me with how anxious I felt. Then, I gasped as a strange cramp tightened its grip on me. I actually could see my muscles tighten, my form pulling in on itself, toward my center.

               “Wh-what the hell was that?” I whispered to myself, after the squeezing pain faded. “It was like… No, that’s impossible. I’m obviously not pregnant, I’ve never even had sex. There’s no way I’m having contractions. That would be silly. It must just be a stomach ache or something.”

               Dismissing the mounting tightness I could feel faintly starting to build once more, I smoothed out my shirt over my strongly hard-feeling midriff and left, focusing on enjoying the rest of my shopping.

               Bit by bit, things kept getting stranger, and the words from that unseen person refused to leave my mind. I kept having cramps. They weren’t very close together or particularly strong, but they growing in strength, and the time between was shrinking with each one. They were still quite some time apart, and I could mostly just tough through them, but… I really wished the spasms would stop. I tried to figure out what I’d eaten that could have made my stomach so upset.

               That, and what was causing this much bloating. Even more subtly than the annoying cramps, the tiny bump in my midriff began to swell. I kept unconsciously reaching down and fiddling with the hem of my shirt as it began to be tugged up over my growing belly. The bulge was beneath my navel, just above my pubic mound, but it seemed to be growing up just as much as out. I could feel the… what had to be gas, taking up more space, stretching and tugging at my muscles, causing me to expand more as time went on.

               My shirt was tugged up over my increasingly impossible to ignore condition. At first my dark brown skin was barely peeking out from under the pastel colored cloth, but it wasn’t long before the sliver had grown until more of the alarming bulge was showing than not.

               The cramps were getting worse and more frequent as well. I began to feel a strange pressure inside me, something pushing down relentlessly. As the spasms got stronger, so too did that feeling of something just PUSHING, unendingly, trying to… I don’t know what.

               Over the course of hours, as I tried to deny and ignore that anything was abnormal, my navel was inched to the front of my impressively swollen midsection. From there, my bellybutton was gradually pulled flat, before being forced outward by whatever was filling me.

               Worse, the cramps were getting impossible to ignore. They were getting strong enough that I had to stop moving when they clamped down, forcing myself to control my breathing, holding my rock-hard orb and inhaling through my nose, out through my mouth.

               My chest had been swelling as well. I started to feel wetness, but decided not to investigate. Whatever was happening, it was secondary to this allergic reaction. Furthermore, between my legs was… well… sensitive. I could feel my panties against my feminine lips, and as I continued waddling through the busy streets, the feeling of my underwear dragging against my damp privates was increasingly difficult to ignore.

               Finally, I was huffing in forced breaths as another powerful spasm gripped me in an iron grasp, the feeling of something big pressing hard deep within me. I was overwhelmed, scared. I didn’t want to call the hospital, scared of what they would tell me. Scared of what they would do, or make me do.

               I couldn’t, I couldn’t be a mother, I was a virgin, had never even had a boyfriend. And worse, the local school system made you drop out if you got pregnant, something about increasing the quality of parents for the next generation or something dumb like that. It always seemed to backwards and ignorant, but it seemed easy to avoid dealing with. Just don’t get knocked up. But this… it felt like…

               No. It was impossible. This didn’t just HAPPEN, not just because someone said something weird to you on the street. This was a dream, or something unrelated, this couldn’t be…

               “I’ve been watching you all day. You’ve been doing so good, you’re so beautiful.” That same voice, coming from… damnit, why couldn’t I figure out where it was coming from, it was like it was in three opposite directions! “No point in fighting or denying it anymore hon, you know what’s about to happen, what you’re about to become. I’m sure you’ll do a marvelous job raising your newborn. Now just give in and let it happen. Let your baby be born.

               “Push mommy.”

               I opened my mouth to reply, to snarl out a denial or an insult, but all I managed to do was wail in fear and pain as a contraction ripped across my life-filled belly, and a quiet pop came from inside me. Seconds later, clear fluid poured from my over-sensitive girlhood, soaking my underwear, my tight jeans, dripping down my thighs and making a strong smelling puddle beneath me.

               I slowly dropped to my knees as people walked passed, giving me strange looks as I gulped in panicked breaths, feeling my cervix being forced wider by the head of the baby that shouldn’t be there. I was probably fully dilated, I’d been in labor ever since this thing had even started to grow inside me.

               I couldn’t believe it, this was impossible, this COULDN’T have happened, not to me, not like this! But once more, a powerful cramp rippled across my aching, drum tight womb, and I felt the primal need that most women experience in their life. The need to open my legs wide and push. The need to give birth.

               It was irresistible, undeniable, but I fought it a little longer. I reached down a trembling hand, tugging at the zipper of my jeans, the snap having popped open quite some time ago without me even realizing it. Gripping the edges of the fabric, I struggled to get my pants and panties down, to clear the way for my unasked for offspring.

               I tried to breathe through the next relentless spasm, but couldn’t help pushing slightly, feeling the head sliding into my birth canal as I moaned. Down, over my thighs, to my knees, I tugged my clothes down. I had intended to fully remove them, but just as I sat back and fumbled with my shoes it all became too much. Sitting back, being forced to open my legs wide as my soaked jeans and undies slipped down my skin, feeling the breeze on my naked, swollen, overheated gender, I only managed to get my shoes off before I had to give in utterly to my feminine nature.

               My socks still on my feet, pants and panties around my ankles, my dark skin glistening with sweat and birthing fluids, I began to push with the overwhelming pain, throwing my head back and screaming at both the horrible sensations and how helpless I had been made.

               Now people were staring. They took in my teenage body with appreciative murmurs or grumbling contempt, muttering about another idiot teen who couldn’t keep her legs closed putting on another slutty show, or groaning that this was so sexy, that they‘ve never seen a black girl push out a baby before, that they couldn’t wait.

               I knew nobody would call the hospital. That’s not how things were done here. I myself had watched classmates that I’d looked down on for their ignorance, screaming in pain and fear as they gave in to their need to push out their baby, or dropped into a deep squat and started laying a clutch of eggs. Had laughed and sneered along with every else, even sometimes found parts of it a bit hotter than I wanted to admit to myself.

               Now it was me trying to pull my ankles apart, thighs quivering as I struggled to deliver for the enjoyment of a judgmental crowd, exposed and ashamed and confused at how I ended up here like this. Tears of embarrassment ran down my face as I felt the head slipping down my tunnel, gasping as I felt it starting to strain against my hymen.

               I knew that by the time Monday rolled around, everyone at school will have watched me give birth in front of the maternity clothing store in the shopping district. All my friends and enemies will have watched my own unwanted baby take my virginity as it emerged, which it was doing right now.

               I shook my head as I fought my own body, the force of my labor putting even more strain of the fragile skin, a sharp ache radiating from within me. But at last it was too much, and I had to give in, shrieking in shame and pain as my maidenhead tore around the massive head of the thing inside me.

               The next big push made good progress as I grunted, fingers curling into tight fists as I tried to get this awful ordeal done and over with, knowing that every push brought me closer to motherhood, closer to being expelled, closer to my life being ruined forever. But I couldn’t even begin to resist, not anymore. As the contraction ended, I could feel the head resting just behind my slit, the skin straining.

               I could hear the voices again, whispering that I was bulging, that the head must be huge, that this was unbelievably sexy. I reached down, cupping my gender and feeling the hot, damp, oversensitive skin. I was stretched tight, on the very cusp of opening, it would just take one more big push.

               I didn’t want to be a mommy.

               I had no choice but to become a mommy.

               I had to push.

               My toes curled within my socks, and I cried out in agony and defeat as I began to feel a fiery ache burn over my feminine lips. My gender was opening, parting in a teardrop shape, my clit within its hood resting just over the thinnest part, the head becoming visible between my legs.

               I gulped in air as people reacted to this latest development, cameras flashing and rendering every exposed inch of my dark skin perfectly illuminated for all. Another terrible contraction, another helpless push, and the teardrop began to warp out of shape. My slit was spreading into a massive, agonizing circle as the ring of fire grew, my girlhood opening wide to try and pass the head.

               I sobbed, begging people not to look, or to help, or to do anything but watch eagerly as I fought to give birth. But nobody lifted a finger, only capturing every traumatic moment of my most vulnerable and helpless moment for everyone to see, making what was already an ordeal a million times worse.

               Crying out, I bore down once more, my ankles straining against the tough fabric as I tried to open my legs even wider, the head inching forward. I was crowning, my child was going to be born weather I wanted it or not. It was inevitable, it was now impossible for me to escape motherhood. All I could do was give in and push.

               I could feel my lips straining. I was going too fast, trying to get this over with as quickly as possible, not giving myself time to stretch. But it hurt so bad, I couldn’t hold back, couldn’t just wait while more all-powerful spasms held me, trying to fight my primal instinct to birth.

               I could hear people gasping as my unasked for offspring continued forward, my gender getting tighter as more of my baby crowned. I could feel a powerful throbbing ache at the base of my girlhood, and knew what was coming. The throbbing became stabs of pain as the skin struggled to compensate as I continued bearing down relentlessly, not resting, not trying to fight it.

               And then… I screamed in fear and agony as I felt myself tear. My poor virgin gender, starting to rip as the thing I’d been forced to gestate made its way from my body. From there, another push forced the wound to grow slightly. Then I gasped in some air before making it even worse when the need to push came back.

               I had so much further to go than I thought. I was being pulled so wide, I couldn’t bear it, the tear was inching down toward my anus, some people were asking if they should get me help, but others seemed to think this was even more exciting. I was sure this was it, there was no way I could do this, no way I could survive, the head would never be out, I would just push and push and never be done, never give birth…

               And then, at long last, the agonizing pressure of my feminine slit being held beyond its limits faded. With a gush of fluid, the head slipped forward. I had gotten the head out. It was almost over, finally.

               I laid back for a bit, recovering some energy, moaning in discomfort as the body rotated within me. Then, once more, it was time.

               The shoulders were even wider. One big push, and they were straining my opening, just behind my skin. Another, and I could feel I was right on the cusp of getting this thing out of me at long last. Then… I shrieked as my wound grew one last time, the shoulders slipping from my girlhood in a hot, wet surge of motion, the rest of the child following immediately after.

               Someone called “It’s a girl!” I’m not sure if that made it better or worse. If it was a boy, then it would be some monster that would hurt another girl just like I’d been hurt. But a little girl will someday go through this same thing. It was only a matter of time before someone forced her to become a mommy too, weather she wanted it or not.

               Sobbing, I realized I couldn’t bear the thought of someone hurting my little baby girl, even if I hadn’t wanted her, been raging at how she was ruining my life only a few moments ago. My maternal instincts were kicking in with unnatural strength, probably as part of whatever terrible magic had forced me to endure this in the first place. I tried to resist, but at last, I reached down, picking up my baby.

               She was… she was beautiful. I could tell she looked just like me. My eyes traced the cord protruding from the tiny things bellybutton, following it down in between my legs. She came from me… she was mine…

               My baby…

               I was a mommy…

               I tugged my shirt and bra off, sitting almost entirely exposed on the sidewalk now, my pants and panties around my ankles and my socks the closest thing I had to clothing still being on. My daughter latched onto my swollen, sensitive breast immediately, and feeling the child I’d gone through so much to deliver drink from me, knowing I was feeding her, nurturing her…

               I hated what the hormones were doing to me, hated what all of this meant. The world began to spin as I heard people at last calling the ambulance. I scooted to the wall and leaned against it, holding my newborn little girl to my breast as she continued suckling, and let myself fade away. I would likely wake up in the hospital, all stitched up and surrounded by angry, judgmental people. But for now… for now, I could rest.

)———-

Do you like my stories? Do you want me to be able to continue making them as often as you would like? Come give my patreon a look! Any money at all whatsoever that you give me is massively appreciated, and without your help I can’t afford to feed myself and write at the same time! https://www.patreon.com/muchbirth 

What is it about the idea of monsterously large pregnancies, that's so appealing.

Like... having to deal with belly growth that reaches such extremes that it steals your ability to move.

Imagine constant, rapid, unyielding growth. 8 feet! 35 feet! 60 feet! Your belly getting so big, it deforms under its own massive weight, seizing to be a perfect sphere.

Big enough to fill the entire meadows the swollen flesh pressing itself into the huge ancient trees and snapping them as if they were tiny sticks, crushing them into dust under your endless mass.

Just a huge round orb of flesh, so full of indescribable creatures. expanding forever more and more.

Primal Pregnancy

Imagine you’re a cavewoman. You’re pregnant but you don’t know it. You had an encounter while on the search for food with a caveman you never saw. You’re not sure what occurred, only that it felt good when it happened. You try to recreate it best you can by yourself, but it isn’t the same. Your group was shortly attacked after that. There were only 3 of you left, but after a storm, it’s just you.

You’ve grown heavier in the last several months and your belly has expanded an incredible amount. It’s gotten difficult to scavenge for food, but you must do anything to satiate that hunger that’s only gotten worse. You fend off best you can, but it’s grown more difficult as your belly grows. Your breasts have gotten heavy and leak from time to time. You don’t understand why your body is changing, you can only accept it.

Today was different. It was difficult. Pain constantly bore down on you. As you dug through bushes, you were brought to your knees by this growing pain. It squeezes you. You start to worry that the berries you have eaten were inedible. Poisonous. You try to walk back to your cave but the pain keeps coming. Eventually, you’re crawling. The waves of pain are becoming more constant. You grunt and you heave trying to just get back to safety. Suddenly, something explodes inside you. Liquid rushes out of you like an overripe fruit. You fall over in shock and look down at the mess. The dirt is wet beneath your legs and this fluid coats your inner thighs. You start panicking. Did you belly pop? Was all of the growing just water? Will it finally drain and you can hunt like normal again?

Your thoughts are cut off by another, stronger, squeezing pain. You start to scream. You can see your cave, it isn’t too far. You claw your way across the ground to the base of your cave, but that’s as far as you can go. The pain is too much. Your body begins to bear down on you. You start to push involuntary, it’s like a snake is wrapped around your pelvis forcing you to squeeze out all that’s in you. The pain is indescribably. There is a pressure that’s increasing within you and it feels like something large is traveling down your insides. You’re stuck in this state of pushing and screaming. Then the burning. This stinging feeling floods between your legs. You frantically reach down, believe yourself to be dying, you’re being teared open now. You feel your cunt has expanded, and there is something lodged with it. You cry as the object forces its way down, expanding you further. Your legs kick around, as if you could try to run away from this pain.

Finally, enough has come out that you can try to dislodge whatever is inside you. You grab it firmly and pull to no avail. You have to push. Defeated, you crawl onto your stomach in an animal like position, the pain was a little more tolerable like this than when you were on your back. You lower your upper body with your hind in the air. The pushing is easier and the obstruction moves down faster. With one final scream, one final push, you use all of your power to bore down one more time. Something slides out of you and falls to the floor with a thud.

After a choke and a cough, it starts to cry. You fall to your side and frantically look down. There is a baby. You had seen one in passing, but not in your group. But you made one. You watch the baby as it cries and coos for you. Maybe if your group was here, this could be okay, but it’s just you now. You don’t know what to do.

Okay don't mind me, I've just been reading too much about various sorts of mythology stuff and... old myths genuinely have a lot more weird pregnancy things than you'd expect (I still find the fact that Odin's eight-legged horse in Norse mytholohy is the son of Loki - whom Loki was pregnant wirh anf gave birth to, mind - way too funny, although that's completely beside the point), so... this isn't inspired directly by a specific myth, but reading random mythology stuff is kinda what put this into my mind

Anyway, I've been thinking of a boy who somehow manages to royally piss off a fertility god. Perhaps he defiles their shrine, or steal some sacred item or mess with their priest - or maybe him just refuses to do something the god wants him to do. And because gods are so well-known for never being spiteful and always giving proportionate and reasonable punishments (extreme sarcasm), the god curses the boy to become pregnant, but unable to give birth unless some extremely specific conditions are met. Maybe he can only give birth at one specific location, or has to eat some specific hard-to-aquire thing to induce labor, or it's one of those seemingly impossible and contradictory "neither at sea nor on land, neither at day nor at night, neither alone nor with other people" kind of conditions (i pulled that specific one out of my ass but you can find similar kind of contradictory and stupidly specific shit in mythology sometimes, you get my point), or some combination of the above, or some other stupidly specific and unintuitive condition, idk.

And the boy doesn't know the condition, of course. The first nine months he simply waits for the pregnancy to run its course, but as the months stretch on past the ninth, past the tenth, with no sign of the pregnancy coming to an end, he realizes he's not getting off the hook that easily. By then, of course, he's so heavily pregnant that everything is difficult - he can't walk very far at once at all, he needs ridiculous amounts of fabric to have clothes that fit, the baby - or babies, rather; he can't tell but he thinks he must have two or three in there - are restless and kick and writhe so he hardly has a moment's peace from them...

So he becomes searching for some solution, some way to birth the babies. First whatever conventional ways there are to induce labor. None of them do anything. He prays and makes sacrifices to the god, groveling and apologizing and begging for relief. No response. Then, he begins to seek out wise people, priests and oracles and shamans, first close by, then traveling further and further away to find someone who could tell him what to do.

It takes years, years of incredibly difficult travel, of weird looks from others and humiliation and yet often having to rely on the aid of other people to get to wherever he's going this time, because really he's in no state to travel except he doesn't have a choice. After the initial nine months, the babies do seem to grow slower than before that, but they do still grow little by little, making the burden quite literally heavier to bear, and they are restless in his womb, as though they too would know it is well past their time to be born already.

But finally, after years of searching, years of torment, the boy finds out the condition, and figures out a way to fulfill it. Once that is done, though, there's still the incredibly long and painful process of labor and giving birth to the babies, now much larger than his body ever was designed to give birth to...

I loooove perpetual pregnancies like this!!! It could even be similar to the Greek story abt Leto, so he’s in labor as he tries to figure out how to break his curse. Imagine him having to suffer through contractions, feeling his baby’s head sooo painfully low in his hips as he tries to push but the curse prevents it from coming out all while he’s in search of a way to give birth.

After years and years of searching, his babies become massive. Even with the slowed growth, they’d be the size of 2-3 year olds by the time he finally manages to fill the conditions to progress his labor. Maybe as he’s finally giving birth to his first baby, the god that cursed him decides to come down, just to torment him one last time before his punishment is over. There’s nothing the boy can do to get way from the god, belly pinning him to the ground with the weight of his writhing babies, unable to escape the wrathful god. Each time his baby comes to a crown, the god pushes it back in, making his scream is sob in agony, begging to be let go as it makes his tummy twist and writhe. He tries to kick and push the god away, but he’s too weak after carrying such a burden with him for so many years, completely helpless in the hands of his tormentor.

It goes on for days, weeks even, the god switching between pushing his babies back into his belly, then and painfully squeezing the swell to watch him thrash. Once they’re sure he’s learned his lesson, they let the last baby slip out between his trembling legs, leaving him exhausted, alone, surrounded by half a dozen massive babies as he’s finally allowed to pass out

imagine you're in a breeding program and your only job is to get pregnant and give birth. you've been here nearly ten months and you're due soon but the client gets tired of waiting and just straps you down onto the bed. you cry and sob uselessly as they shove a camera probe into your pussy because they don't believe in ultrasounds. you beg them to stop but they thrust against your cervix over and over battering it black and blue trying to ram the probe into your womb with force alone. Finally they drive the probe up your birth canal and plunge it into the depths of your womb. as soon as they see the baby, they yank the probe out of you even as it catches on your cervix once more threatening to turn your womb out. They take a long thick needle and shove that up your cunt too and you can't help but clench your pussy around the doctors wrist. The needle tears your baby's amniotic sac open and sends fluid gushing out of you like a fountain. Your wailing falls on deaf ears. the doctor wrenches their hand out of your greedy cunt and pats the base of your belly. they tell you your cunt will be full soon. they mean full and heavy with the baby that gets stuck while you try birth it, the baby resting in safety sheathed in your bulging pussy while the doctors try to yank it out of your unwilling cunt. Because the doctors don't bother to wait for your labour to begin. they don't care. all you are is a broodmare, your body's preparation is immaterial. Once again you are having something shoved into your cunt. you try to resist but your thrashing is pointless, you are so thoroughly restrained, you can just barely breathe, only your arms are free to stroke and clutch at your belly. your full belly that once domed upwards has shrunk slightly after ejecting the cushioning fluid from your womb. the dinner plate they shoved up your cunt now sits between your hips cupping your bowed out cervix. the support would be welcome if it didn't mean having something lodged in your pelvis. Then the dinner plate whirs to life and you are screaming at the top of your lungs clutching your pregnant belly as the dinner plate reveals itself to be a suction plate ready to wrench your babies right out of your womb and yank them from the safety of your cunt kicking and screaming. and oh there is so much kicking and screaming. you aren't allowed the luxury of having your babies slip through your cervix or slide through your canal to be welcomed into the world, no, they are sucked and pulled out of you using an industry grade vacuum. because you're not a mother, no, you're a birthing machine, you are here to give birth over and over and over again until you can't anymore.

kofi

YEA

we need more variety in human-animal hybrid pregnancies/births fiction. you only ever read about birthing litters of puppies/kittens or a foal or relatively small eggs. but there are so many more fun things explore!!!

give me human hybrid births from the animal kingdom that wreck the carrier. give me a human-bat hybrid needing to give birth to a baby that's a third of their own weight. or even better give me a human-kiwi hybrid having to squeeze out an egg that's almost entirely as big as themselves. give me a human-hyena hybrid forcing out their pups through a phallus with a diameter of just one inch, having to fear the very real chance of absolutely shredding their birth canal.

we're talking fantasy here, the sky is your limit. go and write about the agonizing births the world needs and deserves

As her roommate crowned with a child she had not been pregnant with four hours ago her own belly continued its inexorable swell…

Collaboration with @muchbirth. Their story my art.

Farmer’s Daughter

Sandra screamed in pain and fear, the foal emerging from her aching body.

Mere months ago, the clever woman would never have imagined herself being trapped like this. Fresh out of college, the dark-haired daughter of a farmer was eager to go back home and help with her new-found knowledge. New mixtures for fertilizer, interesting breeding techniques, Sandra was sure that bringing her cutting edge education home would help their situation. What the eager graduate didn’t know was that the situation back home had become far more dire than she could have imagined, and her father had agreed to assist others in their own research just to stay afloat. It was a generous offer.  All they needed was his daughter’s help once she got back from school, and they would give the desperate man all the funding he needed to get back on his feet. Plus, the farmer would even be allowed to use anything produced by the experiments. So it was that the smart woman arrived to the home she loved so much, to be greeted by the excited grin of her father, telling her there were some people she simply HAD to meet. Telling the simple man a number of sweet lies, the researchers convinced him that his daughter would need to work with them overnight the next few days. They then strapped Sandra down and began to perform all sorts of terrible experiments upon her. The frightened woman’s entire body felt like it was on fire as time dragged on, the awful scientists forcing chemicals and substances into her body that slowly twisted and shifted some of the most fundamental parts of Sandra’s genetic code, bending it to their terrible purpose. When they were finally satisfied, the cruel men inserted a syringe of a thick, warm, cream-colored substance between the traumatized graduate’s legs. As the tip came to rest against the entrance to the horrified woman’s womb, the plunger was pressed down, sending cum spurting deep into Sandra’s belly. After, the team carefully monitored their subjects status. And, to their delight, the seed took root in Sandra’s womb. The unknowingly impregnated woman was allowed to rejoin her father after being told that she was not to call anyone about what had happened, and that if the farmer was informed of what had occurred over the last week and change, all the funding keeping her home afloat would vanish. And so, the life-filled former student tried to make herself at home as normally as possible. But everything felt wrong now. Her dad was so happy just to have his little girl home, but Sandra couldn’t forget the ordeal she had gone through for the sake of her home and family. And knowing it might not even be the last time they forced her to endure it made everything worse. Meanwhile, the thing that had been raped into the poor woman’s belly was growing quickly, far faster than a normal pregnancy. Within a few days Sandra was showing slightly. A couple more, and the college graduate was gazing openmouthed in horror at her swollen midriff, looking well into her second trimester if not her third. By the end of the week, a full term, heavy orb was hanging from the dark-haired woman’s formerly petite frame. Having taken to hiding in her room once the bump became impossible to hide, Sandra became aware of a subtle squeezing sensation deep inside. But some primal part of the heavily pregnant victim knew that these were the beginning of labor. Sure enough, the contractions began to worsen, increasing in power and frequency rapidly. Within an hour, Sandra couldn’t remain standing through the pain. Another, and the soon-to-be-mother felt like she would be split in half. As a particularly nasty cramp gripped the terrified test subject, a sudden release of pressure came from inside, accompanied by the feeling of wetness running down her birth canal. Amniotic fluid gushed from between Sandra’s legs, soaking her underwear and pants. Sobbing as she awkwardly peeled them off, the full-term college grad waddled to her favorite chair, naked and shuddering as the feeling of the unwanted offspring shoving against her cervix made itself known. Something was wrong. Different. It didn’t feel like a head. It was too big, too hard. And the way it was shifting and moving inside as Sandra felt the need to push, grunting as she began to give birth… were those legs? Was the baby breech? There was no time to do anything about it. Delivery was progressing so quickly, all that the soon-to-be-mom could do was push with the pain. Each powerful spasm held the poor woman tightly, making her cry out in pain, tears running down her face as she pushed. There was so much pressure, opening Sandra’s birth canal so wide. It felt like too much for a normal baby, it hurt so badly. Within a few incredibly strong contractions and desperate pushes, the human experiment could feel whatever it was coming out of her resting just behind her opening. So close to coming out. Reaching down a trembling hand, gently rubbing her groin, Sandra could feel her gender bulging, wet and swollen and sensitive. Then, it was time. Bearing down and screaming in agony, fear, and helplessness, the desperate woman tried to get this baby she never wanted out of her body. The head felt so solid, so unyielding. Sandra’s tender womanhood began to part from inside, the soon-to-emerge offspring inching forward painfully, lips burning as she began to crown. She was opening so wide so quickly, tension at the base of the laboring victim’s entrance began to mount. “No, please, not this, I can’t t-tear!” Sandra cried, unable to stop pushing but certain she would rip her poor slit badly wish how quickly she was delivering. Then, a surge of motion. Delicate folds pulled back as the human experiment convulsed at the overwhelming sensation of her bizarre child suddenly slipping forward. Reaching down once more, Sandra placed her hand between her legs, curious what her baby felt like. What the poor woman felt was hooves. Hard, with a soft mucous membrane on the outside. Further back was slimy fur. And between the two equine limbs, just nudging at her opening, was a fuzzy snout. Wide nostrils, slick hair. Sandra knew this feeling. When she was a little girl, her favorite mare had gotten pregnant. She’d boldly touched the baby as it emerged. It had felt almost exactly like this. Sobbing, sinking low in her chair, throwing her head back and letting out a defeated, agonized cry, the girl that had had such high hopes for herself, who had just graduated with a masters in biological science, gave into another contraction, pushing out what she now knew to be a dirty farm animal, a foal, from between her legs. The head slid forward quickly, the terrible burning and pressure between the horrified woman’s legs intensifying as the slimy, fur covered head of her baby horse emerged. Stopping half way, Sandra was left gasping for air and trying to figure out how this could have happened. But the confused mother-to-be didn’t have long to think, her body working against her pursuit of understanding, insistent that this baby come out NOW. Another big push let the rest of the equestrian snout slip out, as well as the ears and face. Once that was done the contraction ended, though the body continued sliding onward, Sandra’s bestial offspring already squirming and making sounds. High pitched knickers and whinnies came from between the disgusted woman’s legs as the foal attempted to assist in its own delivery. Sandra knew what was coming. She didn’t want it, knew it would be terrible, but there was no way to avoid it. Instinctually, without realizing how awful it would be for its mother, the tiny horse began to kick to help it emerge from its mothers birth canal. Grunting and screaming in torment, the hard hooves of the college graduates foal slammed against her hips, sending pain shooting throughout the laboring woman’s lower body. As the tiny farm animal continued emerging, Sandra helping it along as best she could, a cracking sound was heard, alongside an even more horrific cry of pain. A few more solid kicks like that, and the victim’s pelvis would shatter. Pushing with the pain, the desperate animal mommy gave everything she had to getting this over with as quickly as possible. It was the choice to sit in the chair that saved her. Gravity helped the foal be born faster than would otherwise have happened, only one more kick slamming against the moderately damaged hip bone of the genetically altered woman. That was enough to propel the newborn horse beyond the point of no return, the natural pulling force of the planet tugging the beast the rest of the way from its mothers birth canal. Sandra sagged in her chair, exhausted, as her newborn child stumbled around and made happy sounds, delighted to be alive. The cruel scientists came in after their experiment passed out, delighted to see the umbilical cord leading from the infant horse back into the human woman, proof that she had gestated and delivered the beast of burden. Sandra woke back in the room she had come to have nightmares about, no longer sore but once more strapped to a table. Her captors explained that their project was a bold, secret journey to the very limits of genetic manipulation. And to their delight, the helpless farmer’s daughter was a success far beyond their wildest dreams. The very building blocks of life within the subtly changed woman had been twisted into something they were never meant to be. The Sandra was now compatible with any form of genetic material. If the seed of anything living managed to find its way into the fertile woman’s body, it was guaranteed to successfully take root.

The evil researcher’s intentions were now to see how far they could push the limits of the female body. For now, they would give her a break, a nice little of puppies to deliver, just to prove it wasn’t only horses that could gestate within Sandra’s corrupted womb. Then, after, something a bit more exciting, like a cow, or maybe a sea mammal… The terrified soon-to-be-pregnant victim could do nothing but beg as the syringe slid between her legs once more, and the warm feeling of inhuman life taking root within her body began to tingle across her awareness, signaling that her puppies were on the way…

me when the-

I've been searching for a similar DA fic for literal years, about a bird-girl hybrid who births eggs and everytime she gives birth to one, two more grow in its place. If any of you saved this story please dm me!

Cursed Eggs that grow more as you birth them

My audio record of unexpectedly giving birth at a hotel. Enjoy!

Birth Fetish Blogs

I know there’s a post going around about pregnancy fetish blogs and there’s probably already one for a birth fetish as well. However, if you have a birth fetish blog please reblog this post. I’m looking for new blogs to follow.

Get It Out

(Contains: major discomfort, overdue, big baby, supportive but horny husband)

I'm in my final days of growing the life you put in me 43 weeks ago. By now, there was no such thing as comfort. Everything hurt. My hips, my belly, my back, all of it. Each day I'm praying to god for consistent labor pains to take hold but they always taper off into nothing, and I'd cry every time I felt the contractions slipping away. The thought of being pregnant for one more day was pure torture. I couldn't take the constant pain and the pressure...

Oh the pressure. It drove me insane every day. The babe and my waters so deep that everything felt like it was in my ass, like I was a clogged pipe ready to burst from the pressure of the water flowing behind the big obstruction.

And I was so beyond pregnant that going out in public wasn't an option anymore what with the stares and whispers from strangers that you hated because you knew how self conscious I was about the size of my belly. Last time we went out was a week ago and I felt like an exotic animal on display. Many asked when our twins were due and their eyes went wide when we told them it was a single baby. You batted away weirdos who asked to feel my bulging stomach and caught one taking a video of me with his phone. You screamed and scared him into deleting the video before smashing his phone on the ground.

By now, I'm certain that if we went outside people would call an ambulance without even asking if I was in labor. On our last outing, we were asked multiple times if we needed a ride to the hospital, which I declined with growing annoyance each time. I just couldn't do it anymore. And even if I wanted to, the pelvic pain was too much for me to walk more than fifteen feet.

In fact, there were many things that your cumbersome load made severely uncomfortable. I couldn't sit, couldn't stand, couldn't lay down, couldn't do anything with the head of your fat baby nested deep down on my screaming cervix. It was so low, I'd reach down every now and again expecting to feel the bulge of the head as it sat there and felt nothing but my sensitive pussy. One time, I asked for your help to get out the tub and gasped shakily as I felt the head fall with gravity and the pressure went from 0 to 10 as the water was no longer keeping the full weight of the child off my hips. I screamed that it was coming out and when you reached down in panic, you didn't feel anything at all even though I felt like the head was close to dangling between my legs.

My waters were the verge of bursting. The leakage started a week ago. What was once tiny droplets here and there evolved into small trickles that filled pads and wet my pants. Your cock would weep at the sight of those dark blotches on the sweatpants I'd stolen from you, as mine were now too small and uncomfortable to wear. I had a towel with me and set it down wherever I decided to settle in order to soak up any fluid that spilled from my opening. My sack was fighting –and losing– tooth and nail to hold together.

You wanted to see just how big I could get knowing this is the largest I'll ever be with a single babe, so sex was limited to me jerking and sucking you off so I wouldn't pop on your huge dick. I'd reached a rare stage of post-term pregnancy, and you devoured every second of it. Seeing the way you burdened me to the point of constant pain and discomfort turned you on. You'd develop a tent in your pants every time I'd cry and shout when lightning bolts of pain shot from my weakening cervix through the rest of my belly. Sometimes it would be followed by a contraction that made the mound go square. They were the worst and increased in frequency day after day. I'd stop whatever I was doing, clutch my belly, and breathe deep. There were times when the pain would peak and it was so intense that I couldn't help but grunt and holler. If anyone else heard me they'd probably think I was laboring hard. You'd jerk yourself off while I waited for the pain to pass with wet, exhausted eyes begging you to DO something.

Today, you could tell it was time. While I wasn't in full blown labor, I was past my limit and far too pregnant to move at all. It felt as if my pelvis would snap in half if I did. The head was so low and pressing so hard on my cervix that I'd feel a spontaneous urge to push with the Braxton Hicks that took hold. I knew I shouldn't push outside of labor but it felt so good when I did. Too good. Those tiny pushes were the only source of relief I could currently find, as you rubbing my back and belly did nothing to ease the pains now.

I'd only slept for a few hours in the past three days and couldn't keep anything down besides water and juice. Any food I ate came back up when a contraction hit. I looked like a zombie and you knew I needed to drop soon or I wouldn't have the strength to push the baby out. Letting me go any further felt cruel even though you were confident that I'd have the baby on my own if not tonight then definitely in the morning. Then again, you thought the same every day since I hit 41 weeks. Every day you'd see my plight and think 'this is it' but labor never came.

And here I was in our bed with a big absorbent mat under my ass that was slightly damp with the waters that were fit to gush out of me at any given moment. I sobbed hard as I had been struggling so bad with the baby since this morning. I only wore one of your giant t-shirts. My pussy was fully exposed as I pulled my leg up with a hand behind my knee.

This had to be the hardest you'd ever been. You made contact with my exhausted, pained eyes as I sobbed, unable to go any further. I didn't need to beg for you to know exactly what I was asking you to do but I did anyway.

"Get it out." My voice shook and cracked as you walked slowly to my side of the bed, taking in the sight of me, thinking about how this was the most beautiful you'd seen me since our wedding day.

"I need it out. Please." I cried as you dropped your pants and crawled over to me. Your cock was heavy and hot as you watched a small gush of fluid escape my opening. While it wasn't extremely obvious, you noticed the way my pussy bulged out around what you assumed was the head. Anybody else probably wouldn't notice, but you'd seen me enough times to know it looked a bit bigger than usual.

Yeah. It's time. You thought as you lined yourself up with my opening. I didn't want this. I was in enough pain without you rocking my body and slamming into my hips, but I needed it. I needed you inside me now more than ever before and you were beyond happy to help. And I needed to feel something other than the struggle your baby was putting me through. I was so lost in my own despair that I didn't realise you were on top of me until you began to kiss and suck my neck.

"Oh, baby boy," you whispered in that heavy southern drawl that made me weak in the knees and was part of the reason why I was so painfully knocked up, "You wanna give birth for me?"

A large, warm thumb pressed against my enlarged, swollen clit and rubbed in slow circles. I gasped loud as a shockwave of pleasure ran through my entire body while you continued to whisper in my ear between kisses. "You gonna push for me, papa?"

Your cock was now putting pressure against my opening and you could see how hungry I was for it. Even though I was positive I'd pop with clit stimulation alone, I craved the feeling of you filling my hole and stretching me with your girth. You chuckled as I tried to shift myself down but the baby was too fat and low for me to do much. You pushed inside my opening that was slick with birth fluids and my own arousal. To your surprise, I reached behind your neck and yanked you down for the most passionate kiss we'd had since the baby was made.

A contraction was what broke it. I threw my head back on my pillow and moaned as you breathed away the urge to pound me fast and hard as my pussy clenched tight around your thick cock. You started with slow thrusts and grunted with each one as you got a rhythm going. Your thumb pressed harder on my clit and I stared at you with more love and admiration than you'd ever seen before. You smiled and leaned in for one more kiss before sitting up again.

"Let's get that baby out."

Big Boss

((Contains: Gender neutral carrier, labor inducing sex, public birth, slight humiliation and clothing birth))

I ignored the dull throbbing in my back and abdomen as my boss drilled into me, cock wide and heavy. My belly that usually swing with his violent thrusts was now still and solid as he slammed into my baby-cradling hips. I smelled the celebratory alcohol that was heavy on his breath while he leaned in and began to pump in and out of my bruised hole at a breakneck pace.

At this point in my overdue pregnancy, I could barely keep up. I breathed deeply to cope with the pelvic pain that multiplied when he invaded my pussy. I was so late and begged to be induced over a week ago but he denied my desire for birth and my time off request when I began to feel like I could lay down and push at any moment. I followed his every command despite my desperation, and he relished the control he had over me in my most vulnerable moments.

It was made abundantly clear that I'd give in to everything he wanted or else there would he consequences. Not physical, but financial.

Things hadn't always been this way. My boss was a humble and kind man when the company first started. The team was close knit and felt more like a family than anything I'd experienced at other jobs. It was a delight to work here until we went viral and blew up overnight. The public excitement for our projects meant money. More than any of us had ever seen in our lives. Soon enough, my boss was worth billions and the wealth spread to the rest of the team.

We'd been so happy but the more we grew, the more changes I saw in my boss. I knew he always had a crush on me, one I did not return in the slightest but we remained good friends even outside of work. He made his advances more obvious and frequent. I began to grow concerned, as there was no HR department for me to report to if anything happened. He was HR.

The day came where I was called into his office while preparing to head home and the way he looked at me as soon as I entered told me everything I needed to know. It was like a large, starving dog staring down a cut of fresh beef. I dreaded what was to come but was more surprised when he spoke.

"You know, I really appreciate the work you do around here. This company owes you a lot."

"Thank you, sir." I said while trying to hide the quiver in my voice.

"I think you could be so much more. And work is getting a bit hectic up here at the top. Would you be interested in a... promotion of sorts? CFO, perhaps?"

CFO? That can't be... It would triple my net worth and it would only grow from there. I'd be set for life after working a single year but as excited as the proposal made me, I was skeptical at the same time. There had to be a catch. There were other men here who were far more qualified than I was to be his second in command.

"That would be lovely but... what would the requirements be?"

He dropped his head and chuckled before looking back up at me with those piercing eyes. "Remember that talk we had a while back at the New Year's party?"

I narrowed my eyes, genuinely stumped as to what he was referencing.

Then it hit me.

Instead of telling the truth, I continued to play dumb. I truly prayed this wasn't going where I thought he was taking it. "I'm afraid I don't."

He must've caught my bluff because he stood from his desk and walked up to me with languid steps. "C'mon. You really don't remember? That thing about me wanting to be a dad and the babies?"

My heart was in my ears. This couldn't be happening.

"I'm sorry, I really don't remember much from that night and we were drunk and–" I went silent when he held up large hand, looking annoyed.

"You remember." He was telling me. And I did but I wish I hadn't.

"Is there a reason why you're bringing this up."

"You're really gonna make me say it?"

"Say what?"

"I want you to give me a baby. No. Correction. You're going to give me a baby."

I was feeling too many things at once. Frustration, fear, arousal, anger. The latter bubbled over everything and I began to snap at him for using my drunken confession of my fetish against me in such a way. "With all due respect, I'm not some incubator or a dog to be bred."

"Was I asking you?"

I closed my mouth. He's not going to say it. He won't.

"If you want to continue working at this company, you're leaving this room pregnant tonight."

And just like that, I felt the walls close in around me. Sure, I had a desire to be pregnant. The idea of being stuffed with another man's seed was riveting but I'd hoped that man would be someone I chose. Someone I loved and agreed to settle with. Not my boss who was currently dangling my future over my head.

Then the arousal took hold. My boss was a big man. Much larger than me at 6'3 and 300lbs. of fat and muscle. I'd always dreamed of carrying big. I was merely 5'1 and knew taking his seed would mean being weighed down by a huge baby in the end. And it was a fantasy of mine to carry and birth a large child as my first.

So I nodded.

He took me over his desk and the morning sickness came within weeks of him dumping fat, hot loads of cum against my cervix. He continued to fuck me insane almost every day. I enjoyed it. More than he did until I entered my final month and the pounding never slowed down.

What remained a fantasy for him was now a complete hell for me. I was constantly cramping, tired, and leaking from somewhere. One day it would be my waters, one day it would be my tits, some days it would be neither or both. The babe was big in my hips. I leaned back and swayed when I walked around the building. False labor took hold more frequently and the post-orgasm contractions were beginning to drive me insane. I was completely out of womb and his child fought against me as it grew to a size my body could no longer accommodate. There were constant bulges around my belly. He'd rub the lumps under my skin and growl at how his load was becoming too much for me to handle.

The more I cried from his baby's head bouncing on my cervix, the harder he went. Two nights before, I was confident that I was in labor after our end-of-the-day session. He ushered me into his car and we rushed to the hospital, all the while he talked about how ready he was to see me scream and bulge around the head of his child as I sobbed through violent contractions in the passenger seat.

We were both surprised to be sent home shortly after I was examined.

Even though I felt and looked like I was on the verge of childbirth, the doctors confirmed that I wasn't open enough for the baby to come, but if the sex continued (they definitely noticed his cum in my hole as they checked my dilation), I'd be laboring very soon.

As excited as this made him, I noticed he was more careful and halted the sex due to an upcoming event I was needed for.

We were announcing the launch of our latest project and presenting concepts of a few others in the works at a major tech expo that would be live streamed and viewed by millions. He wanted me to be the one to introduce our ideas and pass the mic off so he could elaborate on the subjects. He said he wanted everyone to know I was involved and give me credit for some of the things we came up with but I knew there was something else behind it.

My suspicion was confirmed as he took me in his drunken state after the pre-expo party. His breath was on my neck and in my ear as he thrusted hard. All he could talk about was how excited he was for the world to see what he'd done to me. For them to see how painful and fat with child he made me.

"And as soon as we're off stage I'm gonna fuck you." The thought made him fuck me faster. "I'll fuck you until you're begging to push."

I was manhandled from the hotel bed to the bathroom where he continued to rock in and out of me. He came for what I hoped was the last time, trembling and shaking profusely as he cradled my contracting belly with huge hands that dwarfed mine. He stayed inside my hole after he came and groaned as the contraction squeezed him. I grunted in pain and pushed on his hips as a signal for him to get out, and he did to my surprise. A bit of water followed his cock when he pulled out, but not enough for a full rupture.

We showered together and he passed out as soon as he hit the bed. I silently labored throughout the night. There were a few times when I tried to wake him and let him know the baby was on its way but he'd growl and turn away from me.

I thought for sure he'd wake up to a soaked bed with me moaning around the head of his child but my cervix and waters held overnight. I felt so weak from the lack of sleep by the morning but I had a job to do.

I was the first one in the bathroon to prepare for the day. A contraction had me bent over the sink when he finally entered and paused to admire the state he put me in. I didn't even know he was there until I felt his hardness against my ass and I gasped, pushing his hips away again with my hand.

"Please." I begged, unable to take any more sex with the head of his child so low and ready to be born. "Please, I can't."

"Relax. Don't have time for it anyway and I can't have this one coming out before the presentation."

I was slow to get ready and needed help getting into my outfit. I cursed every god there was for the store not having elastic waist slacks in stock when I went shopping for something to present in. The pants I got were slightly too small and the belt I wore cut into my lower belly, adding to the pressure.

We were in the elevator on our way down to the conference hall when I yelped and clutched my belly. He glanced at me without moving his head and asked in annoyance. "What's wrong with you?"

"I've-I've been having birth pains since last night." I was trying so hard to sound like I wasn't blaming him but he smirked and chuckled to my surprise.

"Was it that good?" He laughed even harder but I couldn't fathom joking at the moment. The pain grew and a new feeling came with it. The urge to push. My boss must have seen it on my face and the way I grasped the crotch of my pants. "We'll be done in no time. Then we can go to the bathroom and you can scream it out in the toilet for all I care."

The elevator dinged and he started walking out before I could finish my plea for a replacement. He was severely underestimating everything I felt and paid no attention to the condition I was in. The entirety of his mind was on this expo. Everything else would come after.

He paused just as he stepped into the lobby and let me lead. I knew he just wanted to watch me waddle and grunt through waves of other people, my ripeness and discomfort on full display for everyone to see. People looked and pointed at me with concerned expressions. I was embarrassed walking around in such a state but my boss loved the looks I got. He nodded and smiled at everyone who stopped to observe my gravidness.

I thought we'd never make it to the back stage room but we did. My feet and back were screaming as I stood there badly hunched over my oddly shaped belly, desperately looking around for a place to rest. Someone must have noticed because a younger man ran over to me with a cushioned chair and gestured for me to take a seat. I thanked him as I began to lower myself down but the head shifted when my legs spread and I grunted loudly while clutching my rock-solid belly. I lifted it to move the weight of the baby off my poor hips as I squatted down further onto the chair.

It felt so good to finally be able to sit and just let my belly hang. I sat there contracting and squirming for the better part of an hour before I was called for final touch ups before I went on stage. It took ages for me to haul my overly pregnant body off the chair and waddle to the proper station.

My boss made his frustrating with how long it was taking me to walk known but I ignored him as a lightning bolt of pain shot through my body. I threw my head back and moaned loudly, nearly giving in to my body's demand to force the baby out. One hand clutched my crotch while the other frantically rubbed at my back and belly for any bit of relief I could get. My legs shook violently as I kept myself from falling to the floor. I rolled my hips as best as I could and began whispering as I breathed deep.

"Whooooa. Hooooo, baby hold on. Hold on for me, please. Hooooooo. Hoooooooo. Ohhhhhhh the head."

When asked if I was okay by one of the interns, I opened my mouth to tell her I needed to give birth but my boss beat me to it. "Hey, they're fine. Worry about your job."

The intern frowned. "Let me get you some water."

"I said they're fine! And there's no time, they should be on stage already." I was not fine and would, in fact, kill for a cup of cold water.

I tried one last time in vain to tell him how close I was, and that it was urgent. "The baby's really coming. The head... I'm gonna pu–"

"Alright, go! We'll deal with it later."

An older woman was the one who prepped my ear piece. She looked down at me with a sympathetic frown as she adjusted it so I could hear any commands I was given from my boss. I could tell she'd been through this before by the way she began to coach me through the contraction I was suffering. "Breathe. Just breathe and go slow. Try to hold that baby in, you just gotta be up there for ten minutes."

I didn't feel like I had ten minutes in me. This baby was coming NOW. I didn't even register her whispering to another worker next to me because I was so lost in the fog of childbirth.

As soon as it ended, it was time.

My boss gave my ass a pinch and I jumped before walking out on stage. Thousands clapped and cheered when they saw me. For a split second, I was distracted from the fact that I was in full blown active labor and smiled as I began my intro. Throughout the entirety of the presentation so far, I was on autopilot. I had practiced this in my sleep and it was rehearsed several times at the office.

And then something in me snapped. I jumped and let out a small gasp when I felt the sharpest pain in my cervix. I stared off into space and blinked rapidly as I felt my body push in earnest without me. I paused for a few seconds longer than I wanted to and I heard my boss's voice through the earpiece. "The AI? Did you forget already?"

I was fighting the urge to grab my belly and moan when his voice cut through everything and threw me back into the presentation like a robot. But this time, my mind multitasked. I was still on autopilot but another part of my mind was on the baby I was about to birth in front of millions if I didn't get off stage right this instant.

I felt a trickle run down my leg and knew my waters would go at any second but before that could happen, I finished my part of the presentation. The crowd erupted in applause and I looked towards my boss who couldn't be more proud. And I was close to relief. All I had to do was call him up and that would be it. I could run into the bathroom and give in to the pure instinct that was screaming for me to lay down and have his baby right here.

"And our CEO will tell you the rest." I ended with a trembling smile that no one seemed to notice.

It felt like he was walking in slow motion up to me. I began to shake. I took one step towards him as he approached but quickly squeezed my legs together when I felt the baby lurch downward. The head was heavy and round behind the lips of my pussy as it bulged. I was border line hyperventilating by the time he got to me. My panicked state was noticed and his eyebrows furrowed but he continued with his part of the presentation.

He thanked me with a "how about another hand for my second in command?". The crowd roared once more and I was forced to turn and face them. The camera zoomed in to my face but I was more focused on trying to control myself than pleasing the audience. But I could feel my boss's red hot stare burning through my side and smiled shakily once more. I lifted my hand to give a goodbye wave and then...

POP.

My underwear and pants we're full of the head and soaked with birth fluid. I didn't even notice my body was pushing as hard as it was as my desperation reached its peak. The crowd gasped as my hand flew down to cup the baby, water trickled out of me in a steady stream. My boss looked at me in shock before covering his mic with a fist.

"Did you just piss yourself like an untrained toddler? You couldn't hold it?" He hissed in rage. I was ruining his big day but I could care less at the moment.

I took two shaky steps towards the backstage but the shoulders bulged and I couldn't go any further. I gave in, running on pure maternal instinct and frantically began unclasping my belt. My trembling hands made it all the more difficult but I was able to take it off and throw it to the side.

"I'm having the baby." I groaned to nobody and everybody.

"What?"

And now I was working on my buckle and zipper, babbling incoherently and unable to think about anything but dropping. "I'm having... I'm-I'm giving birth. It's out. It's out!"

My pants fell to the ground and my baby followed soon after, hitting the floor of the stage with a wet plop as it gushed out and landed in a huge puddle of amniotic fluid. I stood there with my hands on my knees, pants and underwear pooled around my ankles, and a blue cord that connected me to the big baby that squirmed and wailed on the hard floor hanging out of my pussy. I wheezed and hyperventilated while the crowd gasped and took out their phones to record.

I looked back at my boss and could tell he was annoyed. He merely wanted the world to see me large and due with his babe but didn't expect me to pop it out even though he'd fucked me will into labor the night before.

Paramedics rushed to the stage. The crew must have called them when I initially announced that it was coming. I lifted my leg as they crowded me and my huge baby that screamed on the cold floor. The cord was cut and I heard my boss sigh heavily over the mic while he watched the commotion his child caused.

"I apologize for the inconvenience on their behalf, everyone." He said while looking at me with sheer disappointment before resuming the presentation. "Now, where was I?"

I’m curious if you are going to write any more about births???

If you are I have a few ideas in mind for what you could use for prompts.

yes I do give your consent to use my prompts for your work.

Here is one of them

hidden pregnancy and the person is in a very serious meeting and they are having contractions they have to hide their pregnancy because the boss has a certain image and will fire them if they don’t comply with the guidelines.

P.s. if you do see this post I would love for the character to be male or ftm but it’s up to you 

Hi! Thanks so much for my first ask! I am definitely going to be writing more births. It's how I'm dealing with *gestures at America*. Thanks for this prompt! It kind of took on a life of its own, but I hope you like this little story.

Contains: trans mpreg, birth, extreme birth denial, clothing birth, public laboring, pushing the baby back in (multiple times). All my favorite stuff. Hopefully some of your favorite stuff too! (Story after cut)

Xander groaned, doubling over and clutching his stomach as yet another contraction struck. He’d lost his mucus plug the night before, and had been having contractions come and go throughout the night. Really, he knew the last thing he should be doing was going to work. But there was a very important meeting for a client today, and his boss had assigned him as the lead contact.

The elevator dinged to its destination, and Xander forced himself to straighten. He was already a fairly large man, so his baby bump passed as a beer belly. No one at the office, besides his boss, knew he was trans; and he was pretty sure no one at all knew he was pregnant.

Xander reached his desk and sat down with relief, stretching out his aching back. Just as he logged into his computer, someone tapped at the wall of his cubicle.

“Hello Xander,” his boss said, leaning against the wall. He was dressed immaculately; wavy brown hair, nicely tailored suit, shiny wing-tip shoes, classy golden watch. The man screamed wealth, and knew how to wear it. CEO of a successful tech company at a young age, John Wilson was practically a living embodiment of class. “ Are you ready for your presentation today?”

“I am,” Xander said, forcing a smile. “You can count on me, sir.”

John smiled. “Well then, stand up, give me a twirl.”

This was a normal action—Xander had been hired on as John’s assistant while he was still newly transitioned. One look at Xander’s scruffy facial hair and thrifted suit, and John had made Xander’s fashion choices his personal project. Still, it was harder today to get out of his chair and give the obligatory turn.

“You’ve gained some weight,” John observed. “You might need to make another trip to the tailors. And your packer’s in the wrong place. You look hard. Can’t have you hard in front of our client today. Here, put this on.” He tossed something to Xander, who caught it easily enough.

Xander glanced down at the fabric, and realized after some puzzling, that it was a pack strap. But it was strange. Instead of going around the thighs or sitting just around the waist it looked like some sort of very tight underwear with a hole for his packer. 

Obediently, Xander pocketed the strap and headed to the bathroom. Another strong contraction hit him while he was there, and he breathed hard through the building pressure. Something splattered into the toilet that wasn’t pee—or at least not only pee, and Xander groaned. Of course the baby would chose now of all times to decide to come, instead of last weekend when it was due.

Once the contraction was over, he cleaned up and put on the pack strap. It was very tight around his hips, and pressed firmly against his sensitive parts, but it did indeed manage to hold his packer at a more realistic angle. As he pulled on his boxers and pants and glanced down, he admired how natural it looked. No more bunching up, with this new strap.

Then Xander gasped as another contraction struck. Without the cushioning of his waters, the pain was much more acute. He was left panting as it passed. Not good. But it was his first baby, and a large one. Surely he could get through one more day of work. He didn’t have any more sick days available, not after how hard the morning sickness had got him earlier that year.

He came out of the bathroom, and spent about an hour going over his presentation, breathing through each contraction, feeling the baby slowly stretch him open inside. 

Then the alarm on his phone went off—time for the big meeting.

With a groan Xander got to his feet, bracing his back and shifting his weight carefully. While he’d been sitting and working, things had shifted. It felt almost as though the baby would fall right out of him if he moved wrong. Grabbing his things, he shuffled awkwardly to the meeting room on the next floor.

John was already on the elevator, and held the door open as Xander approached, breathing hard, face slightly red.

“Thanks,” Xander wheezed as he reached the elevator.

“Can’t have you late for the meeting,” John said with a smile. Some amount of alien tenderness came to his eyes. “Are you all right? You are looking a bit peckish.”

Xander’s chest fluttered—partly in fear that his secret would be discovered, partly from the tenderness of the attention. John wasn’t a tender man, not often. He ran a tight ship and expected perfection from his employees, and especially from Xander. But there had been once, about forty-two weeks ago, when they’d gone on a business trip together. John had gotten bad news, and they’d both drunk a lot. Xander had woken up the next morning in bed with a fast asleep John, completely naked, and sore between the legs. Panicked, Xander had quickly left the room and pretended it hadn’t happened. John had seemed too drunk to remember anything the night before and—well that’s why it was so crucial John didn’t find out. Xander had slept with no one else.

“Fine,” Xander replied once he’d gotten his breath back. “Just a bit nervous.”

To combat his assertion, the pain of another contraction wrapped around his belly. As he looked down, trying to breath away the pain, he swore he could see his stomach change shape with the strength of its force. Don’t push, don’t push, don’t push, Xander repeated to himself, pressing his legs close together as John watched.

Luckily, his boss didn’t seem to notice. He just patted Xander on the back, perhaps a bit harder than necessary. “You’ll do fine,” he said, then handed Xander a hanky. “But wipe your face off before you get up there. No need to look nervous. You are one of the most competent employees I have.”

Then the elevator had arrived, and the contraction was still going. Despite Xander’s reluctance to move or spread his feet apart, he had to get out before the elevator closed again. Under John’s careful eye, he took a shaky step out of the elevator. As soon as his legs spread, he could feel his baby’s head shift further down his canal. Forcing his face to casualness, he continued to walk forward as the contraction weakened and his stomach returned to its usual shape.

The client they were meeting with was rich, powerful, and—most importantly—a woman. John had picked Xander because of this last fact, citing Xander’s ability to interact with women without being sexist as a unique skill amongst the men in his business. This seemed a pathetic excuse to Xander, but wasn’t going to complain about the opportunity it gave him. If he succeeded in this, he was almost certainly due for a promotion. Which he needed—babies were expensive.

Stepping forward with a forced smile, Xander introduced himself to the client and to John, as well as a few other people there, and was in turn introduced to the client's team. With great relief, he took his seat as the meeting began. 

He did his best to focus, but his contractions had begun ramping up. It was harder and harder to disobey his body’s command to push, and the baby slipped deeper and deeper down his birth canal. He wrapped his shaking fingers tightly around the underside of the table to stabilize himself, crossed his legs hard enough he crushed his silicon dick between them, and did his best to ignore his body.

His tactics worked well for the first hour of the meeting, but then it was his turn to give a presentation. John and the client looked at him expectantly just as the strongest contraction yet seized his stomach. Xander forced himself to uncross his legs, which had practically glued themselves together with sweat, then slowly he stood. As he did, his core muscles engaged, and that was enough. The baby shot forward, down his canal, and his hole lit on fire.

He bit his lip in order to prevent a whimper of distress, disguising the whole thing by bending over and gathering his stuff until the contraction waned. As he took a step to the lectern, his hips ached, and his legs were forced awkwardly far apart, the bowling ball of a head lodged between them. 

Thus began his presentation, him standing behind the lectern, talking, legs spreading further and further apart as the baby spread his hole apart a bit more with each contraction. When he felt the pain coming, he’d pause his presentation to ask questions of his audience, ask them to talk amongst themselves. It was a bit like school, but it was interactive and kept them awake. Plus it gave him time to work through each contraction without it showing in his voice. For even the fluctuation of pain in his voice would have been a sign of failure in John’s eyes.

Finally, his part of the presentation wrapped up. He gathered his stuff, then waddled back to his chair. As he eased himself into it, he felt the baby’s crowning head press against the cushion, and then get shoved back inside of him. His eyes widened in pain, and he let out a little huff. He stifled it as soon as he noticed, then glanced around.

No one was looking at him, engaged in the next part of the meeting already. Xander sunk carefully back into his seat, his legs spread wide, his belly, much lower now, resting between them. 

As the others talked, he lost himself in the sensation of each contraction coming and going, of his baby stretching his hole little by little. The baby was large, and he couldn’t push much without drawing attention to himself, but still the fire was steadily, gradually increasing.

“Isn’t that right, Xander?”

Xander glanced up from his clasped hands, looking at his boss who’d addressed him. “Of course, sir,” he agreed instinctively, unsure of the context.

“Will the software development team be able to add the AI search feature before launch?” the client asked, likely a second time.

“They certainly could,” Xander replied. “We’ve got a great team, and they really know how to hit deadlines. It wouldn’t be a problem.”

Apparently satisfied, the client turned back to her team, as another contraction increased the fire in his crotch ten-fold.  He was just thinking he was going to have to excuse himself to go to the bathroom, when she reached out her hand. He took hers, and they shook. 

“We look forward to doing business.”

Relief shot through Xander, first because he had succeeded, and second because this hellish meeting was over and he could go back to his cubicle and at least groan through the contractions. There were still two hours left of the work day to get through.

Though he yearned to stay sitting right where he was, manners dictated he stand when she did and escort her from the room. As soon as he stood, gravity yanked the baby down further, and he couldn’t help but gasp at the sudden movement after hours of progress a millimeter at the time.

Luckily, John was talking to the client and she didn’t seem to notice as he hobbled awkwardly after them. They got on the elevator, and Xander waddled bow-legged to the bathroom. As soon as he was there, he stripped his pants, dropped everything, and sat on the toilet seat. A contraction came, and for the first time he pushed. He reached down, feeling the head grow into his palm until the crown filled nearly the whole thing. 

It felt so good to push after so long, to obey the desire of his screaming body. Then the contraction stopped, and horror filled him. He couldn’t give birth, not in the middle of the work day. He’d be fired. So very fired. John would never stand the scandal. 

With shaking hands, he pressed against the baby’s head and began to gently push it back up into his canal. It felt wrong. White hot pain shot through him, and he couldn’t help but cry out. But slowly, surely, his hole closed back around the baby’s head. He’d bought himself a bit more time. 

The new pack strap pressed painfully against his sore, stretched lips. It was stained with blood and birthing fluids, but not enough to soak through to his pants. Exhausted, but steeled for another two hours of work, he washed up, checked himself in the mirror, then headed back down.

John met him as he came out of the elevator, clapping him on the back. “You did very well. Just as I said you would. And I’ve got you a reward. Come with me.”

Xander didn’t want a reward, he wanted to go back to his desk, sit on his comfy chair, and to not give birth in peace. But John wasn’t one who could be denied. So he followed John, who led Xander to a small office. The walls were completely made of glass, giving him a million dollar view of the city below, but also giving John, whose office was next door, a perfectly good view of everything Xander did.

“Thank you, sir,” Xander managed. “I don’t know what—” he trailed off as he noticed the desk’s height. There was no seat in sight. His new desk was a walking desk.

“I noticed your weight gain,” John said. “Thought you might enjoy the exercise while you work. Great job again!” Then he patted Xander on his shoulder, his hand lingering for just a second too long, then he was gone.

Xander stared at the desk, glanced back through the glass walls to see John watching him from his own desk, then back at the desk. His things were already there, on top, waiting. He had no excuse to go back. With a groan, Xander went to his desk, pressing his legs together to keep the baby in, and powered on the computer. Immediately, the wide treadmill began to move, forcing Xander to spread his legs and walk.

His hips ached, and the baby shifted painfully in his hips with each step. His hole burned as it began to emerge once again. Contractions came and went, and God he needed to push, but he couldn’t stop walking or he’d get yanked away from his computer and end up sprawled awkwardly on the floor in front of his hot boss. Just keep walking, Just keep walking, he chanted as the baby moved further and further down.

He tried to work, but he got nothing productive done. Focused only on walking and the burning of his privates, increasing more and more with each step. At the next contraction, the burning increased past what it had before. This is it, Xander thought as he walked, the baby’s going to come out in my pants, right in front of my boss.

But it didn’t. The movement stopped, and as the contraction ended, something forced the baby back to where it had been before the latest contraction. Xander whimpered at the painful, wrong sensation.

The process repeated over and over with each of the following contractions. The packer holder, Xander realized. It was tight enough it was holding the baby in place. 

The two hours passed torturously. The baby sat in a permanent crown between his legs as he waddled awkwardly on the treadmill, unable to stop and push, unable to make any progress. Alone in his office, he at least could whimper and groan as necessary, but he couldn’t get off the treadmill, couldn’t stop and push, without John seeing. And John was always looking.

Finally, five pm rolled around. Xander had been in active labor for seven hours. He was exhausted. Blurry minded, sore everywhere. But he had done it. He would call a cab, go to the hospital, and give birth to his child. 

Not even bothering to gather his stuff he staggered, shaky-legged, out the door. Only to practically run into John. 

“Seems like that exercise did you good,” he noted. 

Xander panted, another contraction striking him. Finally standing still, he couldn’t help but spread his legs slightly, and push. “Just. . .  not. . . used to . .  it,” he panted.

“You did very well today. I’d like to take you out to dinner, to celebrate our new client.”

No, please, Xander thought, eyes widening. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t keep up this charade. The baby had been literally spreading him at his fullest for hours. He couldn’t do a dinner. But one didn’t say no to a dinner with John, not if they valued their job. So Xander nodded, and found himself waddling after John.

“I’ll drive you there, we can come back and pick up your car after,” John said. Xander considered protesting, but John, as the boss, had prime parking, and his own car was parked an intimidating distance away. Plus, he didn’t trust himself to drive in this state. So he agreed. With numb, shaking legs, he staggered after John, collapsing in the car.

It wasn’t until his butt hit the seat and the baby’s head was shoved back inside, causing Xander to cry out, that he remembered sitting would be a bad idea.

“Are you all right?” John asked.

“Fine,” Xander replied once he got his breath back. “Just. . . hit my head. . . on the frame.”

John talked as they drove, and Xander tried to pay attention, but he was lost in exhaustion, the now familiar mantra of don’t push filling his mind. He couldn’t keep his legs together anymore. They were spread wide, but with each contraction, Xander forced his crotch firmly against the nice car seat, keeping the head in place just behind his lips. After so long of the agonizing stretch of a crowning head, having it deeper inside him was a strange relief.

Dinner was agony. Xander ate little, though the food was worth his entire paycheck, he was too nauseous, too exhausted. But John talked with a gusto, drinking glass after glass of wine. As the night wore on, John became clearly drunk. The casual touches on Xander’s shoulders and arms and hands began to linger. His cheeks glowed, his eyes gleamed in the candle light of the table.

The contractions were increasing, nearly constant now, frustrated at their lack of progress. Xander couldn’t take it any more. He needed to give birth. “I’m sorry sir,” he gasped, his hand pressing against the bulge in his pants. “Its been a great night, but I have to go.”

John reached across the table, grabbing Xander’s free hand. “You don’t have to call me sir, we’re off duty,” he said, catching Xander’s eyes. Then he paused, his eyes going down to where he held Xander’s hand, and he withdrew, coughing a bit. “You can, of course, head home as you need. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask that you take me home, since you are sober.”

Xander groaned, another contraction peaking. Tears of pain and frustration leaked down his face. But he agreed. John got up, swaying. And Xander stood slowly, awkwardly, his baby crowned in his pants, pressing against his worn packer-holder. The bulge bigger, the stretch far more painful than it had been during work. The fabric was wearing, allowing the head further and further out.

Together, the two men stumbled out of the restaurant and back to the car. John at least, didn’t seem sober enough to notice Xander very obviously pushing each time they hit a red light. He couldn’t help but push any longer. The baby had to come out. He needed to give birth.

The boss didn’t live far. Xander pulled up, red faced and relieved. He stood from the car, noticing the way the seat gleamed with wetness. He was leaking. 

A contraction came, and he grabbed the hood of the car and crouched, giving in to the push. The baby’s head inched further out, fighting his clothes’ restraining tension and winning. He groaned in pain and relief.

Then, “What are you doing?” John had come around the car.

Xander straightened immediately, but he could feel his baby’s fully crowned head pressing against his thighs. He couldn’t give in now, not after everything. He was so close. He just had to get John inside, then he could strip and birth, there on the sidewalk if he needed to. It wouldn’t take long now. The baby’s head was practically out.

“Just stretching,” Xander lied. “A bit sore, from. . .” Another contraction peaked, cutting him off. He stretched somehow, more, as his baby’s nose passed through his hole. He wanted to scream, wanted to collapse, wanted to strip. Instead he managed to just whimper.

“You seem beat,” John said. “Come on in, I’ll call you a cab.”

Trapped, Xander, was forced to step forward, away from the car, his baby’s head brushing his wide-spread legs with each step. Inside, Xander didn’t dare sit down, He stood in the corner legs obviously spread. He didn’t care anymore, he couldn’t have closed them if his life depended on it.

John stepped out, supposedly to make a call, and Xander crouched and pushed and moaned. Time passed. John came back in, a bottle of wine and a deck of card in hand. “Want to play a game while you wait?” he asked.

Xander couldn’t say no to John, so he nodded, forcing himself somewhat upright. Surely, John knew. Surely, he could see the massive bulge in Xander’s pants, the baby out to its ears. No one could be this oblivious? Xander wasn’t even acting anymore, actively moaning with each contraction, his legs spread like a baby deer’s.

“We’ll play strip poker. Your cab will get here before we get too far, I’m sure.”

Xander sat carefully on the couch, keeping his legs spread, hips tilted so the baby wouldn't be forced in again. The contractions continued, the pain immense as John sat across from him, and dealt.

Xander couldn’t focus, and so began to strip, gratefully out of his tie, then out of his suit jacket, then slipped off his shoes and socks. The cab still didn’t come. Xander forced himself to focus and won the next two hands, John choosing to take off first his suit, then his collared shirt, slipping it off while keeping his tie on.

Staring at John’s perfectly sculpted body, his tie hanging between his pecs, pointing a line at his abs and the trail of dark hair that led to his boxers, Xander suddenly knew that John had not called a cab.

He lost the next hand, and still trying to forestall the inevitable, removed his shirt. His stomach was bright red beneath his hair, riddled with stretch marks and bruises. Without a shirt on, it was very clearly a pregnant belly. John and Xander watched together as it visibly contracted.

John licked his lips.

Locked in the inevitableness, they played another hand. Xander lost.

“I can’t take off more,” he admitted. He could not remove his pants, not without pushing the head back in. And he hadn’t the will to do that to himself, not again.

“Let me help you,” John said. He came around the table, pushed Xander back on the plush couch, oh so gently. His warm fingers slid over Xander’s swollen belly, and Xander couldn’t help but moan in relief at the contact. The fingers continued downward, cradling the massive bulge in Xander’s pants. 

Another contraction came, and Xander pushed, face turning red. The baby’s head strained against the seam of his pants, massive. Then the contraction ended, and the head slid just a bit further in. “Please,” Xander begged, voice tight with pain and exhaustion. “Get them off.”

With his verbal consent, John nodded. He leaned forward, his bare stomach brushing Xander’s, until his face was a mere inch away. One hand cupped Xander’s cheek, the other the massive bulge in Xander’s pants. Then he closed the distance, pressing his mouth against Xander’s in an earnest kiss as he shoved the baby all the way back in. 

Shocked, Xander tried to scream, choking instead on John’s tongue. It was heaven and hell, all bundled into one, and Xander didn’t know how to process it. 

John pulled away, leaving Xander in a fugue. Vaguely, he was aware of John quickly working to remove his pants, his boxers, and his strap, leaving Xander completely nude before his billionaire boss. Xander spread his legs wide, not caring any longer, revealing folds glistening with birthing fluid, red and swollen from the stress of his delayed birth. 

John reached out, caressing Xander’s cheek. “You’ve done so well, Xander. So well today. This was a test, to see if you had what it took to be my spouse and the co-owner of my company. And you passed with flying colors. So, if you’ll have me, I will be yours, on one condition.”

Xander stared, heart pounding. John’s shirt was off. His pants too, were gone, though Xander didn’t remember him removing them. His member stood rigid in his boxers as he sat between Xander’s spread legs, meeting his eyes. He was the father of Xander’s child, everything he’d wanted, despite this torture he’d put Xander through. Xander had let him do it, because he’d wanted it. Wanted him. “Yes,” Xander said. “Anything.”

“Let me watch you birth our child.”

John knew. He'd known the whole time. But Xander wasn’t surprised anymore. This whole thing seemed inevitable. Perfectly planned. John, seeming no longer drunk at all. 

A contraction came, and Xander pushed. For the first time, he was free. He pressed his head to his chest, curled around his stomach, spread his legs wide and pushed with all his might. The head crept forward, dark curly hair spreading him wide. Xander screamed with effort. Took a deep breath, then pushed again, his contractions coming at a frantic pace.

The head stretched him wide, growing with each push. John’s hand came out, cupping the head as it emerged, massaging Xander’s lips. He cooed with each push. Whispered, “You are doing so well, Xander, so well. Look at this head we have created together. Look, there are its little eyebrows, its little nose, it’s little mouth.”

Then with one last push, the head was out. Long-held fluids gushed with it, spraying both John and his very expensive couch. But John was unphased. He smiled, one hand holding the baby’s head, the other reached out, rubbing Xander’s stomach. “Almost done now. Breathe. Let the baby turn.”

But Xander was done breathing. He couldn’t control himself anymore, lost the glorious pain of pushing. He pushed and pushed, screaming with the effort. With each contraction, the head bulged forward, then went back. No progress. He wasn’t making progress anymore! Tears of panic leaked. “I can’t do it,” he sobbed, frantic. “It’s stuck! It’s stuck!”

John’s hand left his belly, slipping into his hole alongside his baby’s neck, sending a burning pain through Xander’s nethers. He screamed, and John hushed him, hand far inside, alongside the baby’s neck.

Something dislodged in Xander’s hip. John ordered him to push. Xander complied, and he was stretched again, impossibly wide, by first one shoulder, then finally then next.

Panting, he opened his eyes, to find John cradling the crying baby. 

“It’s a boy,” John announced, then paused, smiling. “Well at least at the moment. Stellar job, Xander. Doing all this. I’m so very proud.”

Panting, Xander just smiled. 

“Stay here,” John ordered. “I’ll get the baby cleaned up, then I’ll help you. I’ve got a nursery all set up, and I have told the office we won’t be in for at least a month. Once we get you cleaned up, you can rest as much as you like. I’ll take care of feeding the baby. Then we’ll raise him and our company together. As partners.”

Aranaro finds a Dragon's lair, and unable to resist the temptation, attempts to steal some of the many ancient, golden treasures within. All from under the nose of a sleeping dragon. With glittering valuables as far as the eye can see, surely he won't miss a mere few pieces.

After carefully climbing down the mountain trail and heading back into town with a heavy bag, he's ready to celebrate getting away unscathed.

However, unbeknownst to him, the Dragon had been very much awake the entire time, and already in the process of laying a curse upon him.

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(only halfway done cooking! hang in there big guy! 🎉)

𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅. 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝖺 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝗒𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝖽. 𝖬𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗌, 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖨 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝗆𝗒𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒:

• Aro is carrying an egg, a single egg—a dragon's egg. He's honestly just lucky its small for its size.

•    He only has about an hour after returning to the township before he begins to notice any change. He celebrates with Sylvia, both getting moderately tipsy until he starts to feels nauseous. Aro chalks it up to all the hiking he's done today, and calls it a night.

•   It's hours later when he wakes up that his legs feel more sore and heavy than feels normal, and he finds himself unable to sit up right due to the preposterously swollen belly that sits on his lap. (see above picture)

•   He's now drenched in sweat, the sweltering heat from the egg, even wrapped deep within his body, radiates throughout the room, turning it into what feels like a sauna.

•   With Sylvia's help, he has to lay in a bath of cold water, forcing himself to endure it lest he test his luck on heatstroke. His belly steams as the water hits it. He can barely fit inside. Even the buckets of ice-cold water that Sylvia periodically pours over him is not enough, only adding more steam to the room and immediately becoming lukewarm.

•   To make things worse, later in the evening, the egg has started to turn the wrong direction. The tethered tip of the egg sits in his chest, jabbing at important organs—while the widened end sits in his lower pelvis, specifically on hips that are not quite wide enough to pass through.

•   And to top it off, Aro has started to feel the first of many contractions to come.

Poor little bird-folk who has a condition that makes their eggs grow unusually large. It means they almost always get egg bound and spend days laying a clutch when all their friends do it in an afternoon. It doesn't help that they're small and slight with narrow hips that strain against every huge egg.

As they get closer to laying their stomach swells up immensely, looking ridiculous on their small frame. Everyone else they know gets a regular, manageable bump in the weeks before they lay. Usually only restricting their movements in the last few days. But their stomach is huge and obvious and horribly sore for weeks. They spend almost a month too heavy to fly and by the last week they can barely walk. You would think that going through this every year would mean they're used to it, but every time they are caught off guard by how heavy and sore and uncomfortable their giant eggs make them. Their fragile pelvis wasn't made to carry so much weight. Their skin stretches so far that they start to lose feathers on their belly and red, angry stretch marks are visible on the exposed skin. It's miserable but they know the worst is still yet to come.

Their body is designed to lay quickly. Half a day of laboring, an hour of pushing and you've got a clutch. But with their eggs three or four times bigger than they should be that timeline is simply impossible. They dread those first contractions. Once they start they are trapped in a horrible storm as their body shoves the first egg down brutally hard and fast. The pressure in their hips increases ten fold. They squawk and cry, paralyzed by the intensity and trying desperately to find a position that will ease some of the pressure.

It's not long before the tip of the first egg begins to press down through their cloaca. This is when the real trouble starts. They are gripped with the urge to push. The first push begins to stretch their hole, the heavy egg bulging out the skin between their legs, the very tip visible just inside. But there is not enough space. Two, maybe three pushes should be enough for a regular egg. But their egg is so, so big. It gets stuck almost immediately. A few desperate pushes might bring it down just a bit more, enough than the stretch of their cloaca really starts to sting. But then it lodges itself and won't budge no matter how much they push.

No matter how many times they're forced to do this they are always gripped with horrible panic when they realize the egg won't move. The pain of contractions, the spasming of their stretched hole, the mind numbing pressure, all make it impossible to think. They'll thrash and scream, crying that it's stuck! It's stuck! Oh god please, it won't come! By now they know to have a healer on hand. But during their first lay they cried alone for hours, sure they were going to die.

There isn't actually much the healer can do. The bird-folk must now go through a horrible process of slow stretching. The healer takes some oil and rubs it around the rim of their hole, gently stretching the already taught skin, trying to work them open. They moan as their tortured hole is stretched. The burn is constant and terrible and they feel like they could rip open at any second. The healer stretches them and then they are forced to stand on shaking legs and hobble back and forth, bowlegged around their crowning egg. They shift their hips as best they can, trying to work the egg down. They are still beset by contractions and every few the urge to push becomes too great and they have to squat down and push. On every fourth or fifth push the egg will inch out the slightest bit more.

The progress is glacial and agonizing. They are trapped in a desperate cycle. Once they collapse from exhaustion the healer applies more oil, wedging their finger in alongside the egg and making them stretch. Then after a fruitless push or two they are dragged back to their feet. They rock and sway and squat intermittently, pushing and crying, until their legs give out once again and they slump to the ground in an exhausted heap. Then the healer approaches with more oil.

This goes on for hour after miserable hour. Slowly the egg crowns out of their tortured cloaca. The liberal application of oil and constant stretching protects them from tearing but the burn is indescribable. They are stretched so tight around something much bigger than it should be. At a certain point they go numb, their nerves unable to keep up with the stretch.

It's usually at that point that they break down completely, going limp and weeping, saying the egg will never come out, just leave them, they're too tired to push anymore. Every time they're sure this is it, it's over. They just want the pressure and the pain to end but their will is completely broken. The healer lets them cry and writhe through several contractions then hauls them up on their hands and knees, forces some water down their throat, and tells them to get pushing. It's hard but they've done it every year and this won't be the year they die on the healer's watch. Still crying and hiccuping miserably they bear down and push again.

By the next day they are usually close to the widest part of the egg. The end is in sight but still so far away. The cycles of oil, stretching, and pushing have gotten shorter and shorter. They are no longer able to stand, the egg forcing their legs too wide. It looks obscene sticking out of their hole, taking up the entire space between their legs. They alternate between squatting and rocking back and forth on their hands and knees. By now they are in a kind of trance-like state. Their world shrunk down to just the giant egg holding them brutally open. They emit a constant quiet lowing, their broken voice peaking in distress with every push.

Finally after one push they feel it, on instinct they know that one more push will get them past the widest point. They suck in a breath and push with every desperate ounce of strength left in their exhausted body. The egg moves. The pressure gives. In an almost orgasmic gush the egg bursts through and slides out of their spasming hole. They slump to the ground and sob in relief.

They get maybe an hour of rest. Then the pains return and their body starts working the next giant egg down to their hole. They're stretched now so this one will not take quite as long but they still have hours more of pushing ahead. And after that two more eggs lie in wait.

When all of the eggs are finally out they sleep for days, completely drained. The relief of finally being empty is always tainted by the knowledge that they will have to do it all again next year.