Latest Posts by birthbitchii - Page 3

I fucking love fetish sexuality. I love people with totally bizarre, highly conceptual, abstract fetishes. I love the way sex is not merely sex, it is a story played through our bodies. I love the way the urge to create is so deeply and profoundly unstoppable that it alchemizes within us and becomes freakish desires. I love fetishism.

rapid preg thats JUUUUUST slow enough that you dont realize for a WHILE. especially if theres no button on your pants or shirt to pop off. you look down after being in the pool for a while, and suddenly realize you look about 6 months pregnant, and your swim suit is NOT hiding it. or thinking your sweatshirt is hiding it just fine on the plane so you take a nap and when you wake up somethings moving around quite a bit inside your obviously pregnant belly.

still thinking about those EGGS

Lower

His hands rested on the curve of his belly, the heavy weight of it pressing into his lower back, a constant reminder of the life growing inside him. He had been sitting there, in the cool moonlight, savoring the quiet peace that came with being so far along in a pregnancy—until he felt it.

A sharp, sudden sensation, like a deep, heavy shift, that drew his attention. His breath caught as a wave of discomfort radiated through his abdomen. His belly, once high and rounded, seemed to lower in that moment, a subtle but undeniable feeling of descent. The baby had dropped.

His eyes widened, and he instinctively placed his hands on the lower part of his belly, feeling the shift, the pressure as the baby moved lower. His stomach tightened, a rush of discomfort filling him as the weight shifted downwards. It was a strange, almost painful sensation. A deep, pulling heaviness in his pelvis as if the baby were suddenly closer to his hips.

"Oh God..." His voice was low and shaky, the words feeling strained, a mix of awe and discomfort. He could feel the baby moving, pressing downward, stretching his body in ways that weren’t as comfortable anymore. The pressure was almost too much, making his back ache, his hips feel like they were being pulled apart. It was as if the very act of the baby shifting had turned his entire body into a tight, sensitive knot.

"Ohh, you're getting deeper..." His voice was shaky, a soft, breathless laugh escaping his lips despite the discomfort. He shifted his weight slightly, trying to find some relief, but it was impossible. The pressure in his pelvis was overwhelming, as though the baby had settled in a way that left him feeling like he couldn’t catch his breath. It wasn’t painful in the way of sharp, acute pain, but it was uncomfortable in a deep, aching, almost suffocating way.

He ran his hands over the swollen curve of his belly, trying to soothe the tightness, but every time the baby moved, it only intensified the sensation. He could feel the baby pressing against his lower abdomen, the heaviness of it too much at times, making him gasp softly.

"You’re so big..." he murmured softly to the baby, his voice a mixture of awe and a little strain. "You’re so low...I can feel you."

Another shift. Another deep pressure. He winced, his hands gripping the sides of his belly as he leaned forward slightly, trying to alleviate some of the discomfort. The baby's movements, now feeling heavier, seemed to cause a sharp tug within him, pulling on his muscles, on his very core. It was almost like the weight of the child inside was too much, too overwhelming, like a gravitational pull he couldn’t escape.

His breath was quickening, the discomfort making it hard to focus. The low ache in his hips grew with each passing second, and as the baby moved again, it sent a jolt of sharp pressure down through his pelvis, his whole body trembling with the intensity of it.

Despite the discomfort, he couldn't help but feel aroused by the movements. The heaviness, the constant reminder of how hugely pregnant he truly was with his lover's baby—it was intimate, even if it wasn’t always pleasant. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could bear the pressure, but still, he loved it. He loved how full it made him feel, how complete his body had become.

"Oh wow. Oh wow. You’re so close. It's time. Oh god, you're coming now" he murmured, chaotically running his fingers over his big tight belly again, feeling the weight of the baby pushing down. "Oooo, you're almost there. Ooohhh, You have to get lower."

But the drop, the weight, the relentless pressure as the baby moved even lower—it was a sensation he couldn’t ignore. The baby was coming now. He had to start pushing. Through the discomfort, through the aching weight, he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of wonder. As much as the pressure hurt, as much as the discomfort stung, it was the price he was willing to pay to do it all over again, but next time, he wanted twins.

Check out the trailer for the final film of PWAFILMS Month!

Okay but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this silly scenario and I thought you’d enjoy!!! A guy in college who finally gets the freedom he needs away from his small town upbringing and its rules and he finds himself in a downtown bustling area his first year of college with a roommate in a small bunk bed dormitory. He couldn’t be happier, and he uses his newfound freedom to go out to clubs in clothes that are barely wider than belts and hook up with all the strangers he’s ever fantasized about.

And it doesn’t take long for it all to catch up with him. Within just a few weeks he’s got a very small curve to his stomach that’s just beginning to press against the top button of his jeans but he waves it off. Everyone gains the freshman 15, who cares?! And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t linger putting on his shirt in the morning just to feel his roommates eyes burning into his body, hungry and desperate. A few weeks later and he can’t deny that somethings wrong when he can’t even button his pants anymore, let alone even get the zip up.

It’s not a question of if he’s pregnant, no the shock comes when he finds out it’s quadruplets. And this seems to fuel him even more. Why be careful now that he’s already pregnant? It’s not like he can get knocked up again!!

Or so he thinks until he’s staring at an ultrasound monitor in shock seeing now six little blobs of varying sizes. Huh, looks like he can get more pregnant. His roommate thinks this’ll deter him from his late night club hookups but it doesn’t. If anything he goes from unintentionally to very intentionally getting more knocked up with every week. He wears tights and fish nets and crop tops and loves the feeling of strangers hands on the soft of his hips, the once-sharp jut of his hip bones now disappearing under a swollen, perfectly round baby bump still small enough to pass off as just a few months along with one. He loves walking home afterwards with his hand on the small underside of his belly thinking of if he’s just gotten a new baby in there. Some nights he comes home and collapses into bed after multiple hookups in one night and his roommate swears he looks slightly bigger than when he’d left that evening

Maybe he’ll start to regret it when he’s barely able to sit behind his desk in class, his belly irresponsibly spilling out and taking up his entire lap as it shifts and wobbles slightly on its own from the sheer amount of baby in there. He’s always got one hand on it just to feel the barely-there fluttering in his womb, trying to ignore the hungry stares of the football team behind him, knowing that the second class ends he may just get a few new additions to take home. And he’s still got months before the first one is out!

i wish i had more to add but you wrote this perfectly omg. the idea of a cute pregnant boy strutting down to the club, hand holding his big old bump… bet the roommate wants to have a turn and knock up the boy up himself, especially since he gets a front row seat to the boy growing.

now i don’t know if it’s better for it to be babies at different development or if the new babies catch up to their older siblings

either way omg anon this was so good and i will now be thinking about this while im out

imagine you start a new form of birth control, and at first you think it’s working just fine. it even has the added benefit of completely stopping your period. your libido has ramped up a bit as well, but you have an *extremely successful* social life. that’s what the bc is for in the first place.

all is well until about a month after you start it, when you start noticing some… interesting weight gain. you’d shrug it off as another symptom of the bc, but you want to be sure, so you take a test. negative, thank god. aside from the slight paranoia, your partners certainly don’t seem to mind the soft, supple changes.

but you keep growing. within a week, you’re having to find larger pants and bras/binders to make room for your new curves. to say your tummy is noticeable would be putting it lightly.

you arrive at the doc’s office. she openly stares at you when she sees you, and lets you know that she’s going to do an ultrasound on you. you let her know that you’ve taken three tests at this point, all of them negative. she laughs nervously.

“I think you might be having an… unexpected reaction to the new birth control.”

she explains that what may have happened is, rather than fully stopping your cycle, the birth control locked you into the stage of the cycle you were experiencing when you started it. which, in your case, seems to have been ovulation.

“In other words, I think you may have been ovulating nonstop for the past two months. I’d guess that’s an egg or two every week, maybe three,” she says, as she places the wand on your sensitive midriff and begins sliding it around.

“Out of curiosity,” she says with an edge in her voice, “how frequently have you been sexually active?” you try not to notice how pale her face has gone.

you’re starting to feel a little dizzy from all this new information. you let her now that, before you started the new stuff, you’d average about one hook-up a week, maybe twice with an fwb, but with your upped sexual drive… it’s been a bit more than that.

she looks at the screen, and goes even paler. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re already laying down. No good way to say this, so I’ll just show you.”

she turns the screen to you.

you faint before you’re able to finish counting.

found footage

You turn on the video.

It’s of a man filming himself with a phone. He fiddles with it, eventually settling it on what you assume to be a tripod or stand of some kind. He steps back and now his round, distended stomach is in plain view.

“I’m not sure how to start this,” he says. “My contractions started yesterday but they’re still pretty mild. My doctor says I’m a medical mystery. I think if I give birth in a hospital, they’ll take the… The baby away from me. I’m at my family’s cabin now. There’s no one around for–”

He grimaces, hands rubbing his belly. His breathing becomes strained.

“The contractions are getting worse now, about ten minutes apart.”

Keep reading

"I- I'm not pregnant," the boy insisted, clutching his contracting dome of a belly. It had been sagging low, hanging heavy on his hips ever since it had dropped last week. You could see his stomach muscles harden and squeeze again, as they had been doing for several hours now.

"Really?" You said, "You could have fooled me. You don't mind if I hold your belly, right? I just want to get an idea of where the pain is coming from. ...Would that be alright?"

-You asked for permission, but you were already walking forward and outstretching a hand to touch your boy's gravid womb.

The boy but his lip, conflicted over whether to permit you or not. But before he knew it, your warm palms were pressing tenderly into his midsection... and you could feel the very shape of the babies you'd fucked into him nine months ago.

For nine months, he had been denying his pregnancy to you, and especially to himself.

Silly boy... as if constantly tugging down the bottom of his shirts to conceal his swelling belly all this time hadn't just drawn more attention to it.

"Ah! AHH!" a gush of fluid finally flowed out of him and down his exposed legs. "I can feel it coming... I can feel something descending... My body is telling me to push... No, no no no! I can't be pregnant-" your little boy began to break down in sobs.

"Shhh, shhh. It's okay. I'm here with you," you said as you kept using one hand to lift the weight of his belly off his hips, and lowered the other to check his dilation. Somewhat to your surprise, you could already feel the head of the first baby brushing up against your fingers. Your boy had held back his contractions for so long... and yet here he was, already in a beautiful crown.

"I'm not ready to be a daddy..." he breathed, gritting his teeth through the pain. "I can't be pregnant. I'm not even able to get pregnant..."

You were the sort of loving partner who would comply with anything your boyfriend wished.

"If you're not pregnant," you said, "then you won't mind if I push this back in."

You watched his eyes grow wide before you started to apply pressure and push your baby's head back to whence it came.

He looked so wonderful, round and swollen like this. Why not keep him this way a little longer? In all honesty, you both weren't ready to be parents just yet.

"You can keep them inside you until you're ready, baby. I love you. ❤️"

Who wants to stuff me full? Who wants to watch as whatever is inside fights to get out?

you’ve been fucking me for so long by now that ive lost track of the time. I know it’s dark outside now, but that’s all ive got. that, and the growing number of rapidly gestating babies inside me.

“fuck, so good for me… such a good incubator, taking my babies so well… god, fuck, im gonna cum again, gonna knock you up again…”

I groan as you do just that, eyes rolling back in my head as I feel you spill inside me, your seed seeping into my womb and quickly finding another egg to fertilize. the babies already inside me squirm as another sibling joins them, growing to catch up, forcing them to make space.

my body rises as my belly grows beneath me. you had to move me off the bed a while ago to be able to reach my cunt comfortably, and my legs have long been left hanging in the air, supported by the curve of my lower belly. im starting to wonder if you’ll be unable to reach before you can sate your need.

im starting to wonder if you even can sate either of our needs before I get too big for it.

🤰🍼1️⃣🚌>🏠🫴 🖐️🛑🏳️🧍🧎🐢 ⌛🎚️

Story: A woman is a perfectionist with a planned homebirth, but her water breaks at the bus stop, forcing her to get home in labor which is moving faster than she wants. What’s worse, she hasn’t set anything up at home, so she starts setting up everything as fast as she can, even with the head beginning to descend. Each time it gets too close, she moves it back. At one point, she has to hide her labor from a poorly timed delivery man. It doesn’t matter if it’s small, she refuses to give birth until everything is her preferred way. She could be 1 push away from delivering, but remember something she forgot and move it back to fix it then do it all over again.

(Thoughts?)

My thoughts are that this would be lots of fun! So following in my, post nothing all week, then post twice in one day, here you go!

The following story contains: extreme self birth denial and lots of pushing the baby back in. Fpreg.

Lindsey had a plan—she’d have a home birth, in front of a mirror so she could see what she was doing, with a camera recording for posterity, squating, candles, incense, relaxing music. It was going to be perfect. 

But a perfect birth took a lot of prep, and she’d been running around all week trying to just buy everything she needed for a baby. Sure there had been cramping for the last few days, and sure, the baby was already a week overdue, but she figured she had time to make everything perfect.

Right up until she was waiting at the bus stop, bags full of candles, when a particularly vicious cramp overtook her. She groaned, but couldn’t smooth away with her hands full of groceries. The intensity continued to dial up, the contraction didn’t seem to stop. So much pressure— pop. 

The pressure released as her waters broke all down her jeans. Lindsey gasped, eyes wide, and glanced around. But the bus stop was empty. Quickly, she set down her groceries, shimmied out of her jacket, and tied it around her waist, like she used to do in school when her period came on unexpectedly and she had no pads.

The baby was coming, and nothing was set up at home! She wasn’t ready. Urgency rushed through her, a need to be home, to be moving and preparing, but she could do nothing but stand and wait for the bus. The next contraction hit, far stronger without her waters, and she gasped, surprised at her intensity. Her hands wrapped around her round stomach, pushing back her t-shirt so she could touch her warm, stretched skin and soothe it more directly. She shifted her hips, back and forth, trying to wiggle away the pain. The baby was low, she could feel it, could feel the pressure of it moving down inside her. 

The next contraction was even worse, and with it came a demand; push. But she couldn’t. Would not. This birth had to be perfect. So she pressed her legs close together, and forced herself to breathe, in and out, in and out. It took five contractions for the bus to finally arrive, at which point she was so lost to the feeling of the baby slowly stretching her cervix and slipping down she nearly missed it.

Coming to a sudden realization, she frantically bent down to grab her bags, and awkwardly staggered onto the bus, still mid-contraction. 

In contrast to the empty bus stop, the bus was full. Still, a nice woman gave up her seat for Lindsey, who collapsed into it gratefully, already tired and sweaty. She tried to keep her legs together while sitting, but her stomach was large and low, and demanded that she spread her legs so there was room for both it and her lungs. As the next contraction struck, Lindsey wrapped her hands tight around the handles of her grocery bag, her nails digging into her palms. The smaller, sharper pain helped draw her focus from the overwhelming, sickening pressure that was taking over her womb.

Her house was forty minutes away by bus. By the time it pulled into her stop, she barely managed to stand. When she walked, there was a distinct waddle, and the baby, oh, it was so low. 

She waddled from the bus, clutching her groceries, made it to the bus stop sign, and had to stop as a particularly vicious contraction struck. Don’t push, don’t push, she repeated to herself, breathing as her stomach seized around her baby, forcing it downward despite her best efforts. And god she could feel it, just there, between her legs. Coming ever closer, and she still had so much to do.

Walking was hard, her legs spread far apart, her back aching, her hands full, and the baby’s head shifting a smidge lower with each step. It felt like it might fall right out of her. Three contractions later, she reached her door. Shaking hands shoved the keys in, and then she was inside. She dropped her bags immediately, leaned against the door, and pushed. The burn was immediate. She gasped, as the pain was enough to shock her out of her need to birth.

She couldn’t, not yet anyway. Things had to be perfect.

First, she needed to finish setting up the baby’s room. Bending, she picked back up her stuff, then began to shuffle awkwardly toward the stairs, dragging herself up them one at a time, hips aching with the movement. 

The baby’s room was a mess of boxes and bags. She’d thought she would have more time. Well, she’d make more time.

Gathering herself, she started to work, kneeling down, legs spread wide, to accommodate how low the head was. Then she dumped out the pieces, found the instructions, and got to work.

Except the instructions weren’t translated, and they made little sense. With growing frustration and urgency, Lindsey worked on the crib, as, with each contraction, the baby spread her open just a tiny bit more before sinking back in, once the contraction was over. 

Finally she threw aside the instructions in frustration, having made no progress. It was too hot, she couldn’t think. Using a nearby rocking chair, she pulled herself to her feet, groaning as it made everything shift, and began stepping out of her stiff, wet pants. She didn’t replace them, she was planning on having a naked birth. And in fact, tossed her shirt aside as well.

Another contraction hit and she stared down, shocked as she watched her stomach literally sink into her body. It hurt, of course, but it was beautiful, even as she felt the pain of her baby’s head spreading her open despite her refusal to push. Yet this time as she stood, with her legs naturally spread, the baby’s head didn’t go back in. It stayed, the burning stayed.

The baby was coming, and it had nowhere to sleep! Reinvigorated, Lindsey knelt back down and began working on the crib. As the next contraction hit, her hand shot to her naked pussy, found the head, and held it there, keeping it from coming out any further. As soon as it was over, hand damp with birthing juices, she continued working on the crib.

Finally, thirty minutes of agony later, the crib was done. She stood with a groan, bracing her back to stretch, then looked about the rest of the room. Still a mess. So she began organizing. Bending down to pick up a bag, she groaned as the position forced the baby just a bit further out, then she stood with the item, waddled to where it belonged, put it away, then squatted again to retrieve the next item. With each squat, the baby moved out just a bit further, walking became just a bit harder. When contractions came, Lindsey would hold her hand against the baby’s head, holding it in place, but she couldn’t hold it in place while picking something up. 

By the time the room was tidied, her baby’s head was at a full crown and she could barely walk. Holding the baby in, she looked around the room. The baby blue clock on the wall declared she’d been home for two hours, in active labor for four and a half, and the room was finally ready for her baby.

Now, to prepare for her birth. But she wouldn’t get anywhere with her baby’s head at a full crown. So, taking a deep, steadying breath, she brushed her hand against her baby’s wet curls, and began to push it back in.

The pain was awful. She opened her mouth to scream, but couldn’t make a sound. Still, she kept with it, pushing it up and in until her lips closed around it once more. It was still there, so low, so ready to come, but she could walk easier, now.

So, on shaking legs, she waddled to the bathroom, found her mirror, and carried it to her bedroom, stopping once on the way for a contraction which began to push the baby out once more. 

The mirror in place, Lindsey stepped back, examining the room, trying to think what else she needed. Right, the puppy pads to absorb the mess. Those were in the downstairs bathroom. 

She had to cling to the railing to make it down the stairs, her baby’s head slipping out each time she spread her legs to go down the next step. By the time she reached the bottom, her waddle had gotten quite a bit wider, the head spreading her wide once more. 

When she bent to get under the sink at the bathroom, the baby slipped out once more, and she gasped, catching the baby’s head with her hand, finding it at a full crown. Her legs trembled as she crouched there, one hand steadying herself on the counter, the other holding her fully crowned baby’s head in. 

With a deep breath, she began to push the head back in again, pressing her eyes closed, her head against the counter to fight off the pain. This birth had to be perfect, and that was not giving birth on the bathroom floor. 

Gathering the puppy pads, she leveraged herself back up and began the arduous climb back up the stairs this time, she kept one hand to her pussy the whole time, keeping the head in despite two contractions. 

Sweating and exhausted, she reached her room once more, knelt down, and began spreading the puppy pads. That done, she stood, held the baby in against a contraction, then went to gather the camera which was in the garage—which meant traversing the stairs once more, one hand glued to her pussy, the other holding the railing, or on the way up, the camera. 

The birth stuff was in her bathroom, thankfully. With the camera set up, she waddled into her room, found the towels, the clean scissors for the cord, the bowl for water, etc. etc. In favor of going faster, she pulled her hand away from her emerging baby to carry things with both hands. 

The next contraction came as she was carrying them to her birthing spot. She groaned, tried to force her legs together, since her hands were full, but still, the burning returned as her body pushed frantically, and her already stretched lips gave way to the force. The rest of the walk across the room was rather awkward but she made it, crouching to set things down and immediately catching her baby’s head to keep it from coming out any further. Not quite at a full crown, breathed through the next contraction as she looked around and tried to figure out what was left.

Candles. Music. Start the recording. Not much left, she could do this. She could.

Her candles were in the night stand drawer. Feeling too tired to stand, she crawled over there, stomach swaying with each motion, her baby’s head still at a partial crown spreading her apart. Gathering her candles and lighter in her hand, she began her crawl back. She set them up, lit them, breathed through a contraction, then forced herself to stand.

She turned on her music, set it to stream to her tv, then looked around. Everything was beautiful. All was well. It was time.

Gratefully, she stripped out of her sweat-soaked bra, and went to stand on the puppy pads. Calm meditative music filled the air, candles flickered and the incense burned sweet in the air.

As the next contraction came, spread her legs and pushed. The first real push of her birth, and the head shot forward, stretching her further than she’d been stretched yet. Looking at the mirror, she could just make out the baby’s head bulging from beneath her stomach. 

Her hand caught her baby’s head, no longer restraining it, but supporting it as it spread her past a full crown. With the next push, the nose slipped out, a moment of pain and intense stretching. Then, with another great push, the head popped out. 

She glanced at the clock, to confirm the time, and found to her horror, six hours had passed since her water broke at the bus station. It had taken a while, but this truly had been— she turned toward the camera and realized the light wasn’t on.

She hadn’t turned on the camera. It hadn’t caught any of this! 

With shaking hands, she took the fully emerged head, which dangled between her legs, and began to shove the baby back up inside her. Before it had hurt when she was just getting rid of the crown, this one the whole baby was already out, this was far worse. She screamed, she wobbled, just managing to catch herself on the wall, as her baby kicked in protest at being shoved all the way back inside.

Once her lips closed around it and her vision steadied, she wobbled on shaky legs back to the camera and turned it on. Then she returned to her mat. She didn’t think she could stand up any more, so she knelt down.

The next contraction came with a vengeance. And Lindsey was ready for it. She spread her legs a bit more, tucked her chin into her chest and pushed with all her might. The head shot forward, reaching a partial crown in one push. 

Another push, and oh, the stretching, as the head came out further and further until, once again, the head was out. She reached down, felt around for the cord, and found it wasn’t anywhere dangerous. She breathed as the shoulders began to shift, enjoying the candles’ dance, and the piney-scent of the incense. 

She pushed again, her stomach sinking into her with the force of the contraction as the shoulder began to emerge, stretching her so much more. She grunted with effort, trying to stretch her knees even further apart, standing up further on her knees to give her baby more room. Just one more push, and the baby would be out just one more—

The doorbell rang below. 

The delivery, for the expensive baby monitor, Lindsey realized in a haze. She had to go and get it. He wouldn’t just leave it at the door. She’d already gotten messages that he’d tried to leave twice before.

A little tiny bit of her died inside as she shoved her baby, shoulders and all, right back inside of her, until all her progress was gone. It took her a moment to get to her feet, her whole body trembling in shock.

Clothes. She needed clothes. And she needed to go fast, or he’d leave. She found her night gown on the bed and threw it on over her, then stumbled toward the stairs. A vengeful contraction caught her by the door, but she had to get to the door, so she pressed her hand to her swollen, purpled pussy and forced herself to keep walking through the agony.

She stumbled down the stairs, and threw open the door, only to find no one there. Her gaze flew to the road, where the delivery driver was just reaching his door. “Wait!” she cried, voice strangled with pain and exhaustion. “Wait! I’m here! Please!”

The man came back slowly, walking back around to the back where he’d stored the package. Another contraction came, and she couldn’t just grope herself while standing in the door, so she had to just stand there as her baby began stretching her open once again. 

Finally, he reached her, handed her the package in slow motion. He looked at her, asked, “You okay?”

“Yes,” she replied, strangled with pain as another contraction struck her, and her baby’s head began to crown once again. “Was just sleeping.”

“I need you to sign—-” the delivery man trailed off, realizing he was now empty handed. “Left in the car. Give me a moment.”

Lindsey waited in agony, her baby creeping ever lower as the man ambled back to his card, then so, so, slowly, back to her door. She signed it, then turned around, slammed the door shut, and leaned back. Her hand shot to her lips, and she caught her baby’s head right before it came out completely once more.

She went back up the stairs with the head like that, brushing against her thighs with each step. In her room, a candle had gone out. She sobbed a bit as she bent down, felt the shoulders shift inside her, grating against her bones. The candle  lit, she straightened, threw her dress on the bed, shoved the head in again, with a cry of pain, then staggered over to the camera, and resumed recording.

She stood there, observed the scene. Perfect. A perfect birth. So she went back to her pads, in the middle of the circle, and finally, with just a few pushes, brought her perfect little child into the world. It took seven hours of preparation, but it was worth every one of them.

Always fantasized on getting a pregnancy ultrasound

looking down at your stomach and clearly seeing something move in there, but when it presses against your stretched skin you have no earthly idea what the hell it even is

I’m realizing this is a real fun trope for my brain. Hidden belly when laying on back, everything pushing to the front when sitting up…..

How far along am I?

From this past Friday, March 14th

Happy Monday!! Enjoy!!

W.I.P. belly-themed mod for World of Horror

Thinking about an insatiable partner seizing me by my swollen, gravid curves and vowing to get me "even more pregnant." It makes for a hot fuck, I play along, talking about how I couldn't possibly get even bigger, about how could you even want me even heavier and riper, about how would I even function since I'm already too big, all the hot things I imagine, and want my lover to imagine. Breeding their already-bred plaything. Knocking me up all over again. Weighing me down even heavier, blowing me up even grander. Oh, babe, if I'm not big enough for you yet, fill me up again, I promise I'll swell and grow and ache and leak for you, if you do.... It's hot roleplay, a fun thing to pretend. Harmless fun.

Except, what if over the next couple of weeks, I notice... certain changes in my progression. My belly is getting bigger than doctors projected. My weight, once steadily growing, now spikes as my cravings have me ballooning like wild. I stretch my most forgiving maternity clothes to the limit, chest bloating up, spilling out of my tops, elastic waistbands suddenly not elastic enough for my new broader belly, my new vaster ass. What would this mean for my pregnancy? Would I be worried, or... turned on?

What if I went to meet my lover, stuffed into the sexiest dress I can still manage, biggest clothes too small. What if I confessed what has been happening to me, my body growing out of control, too fast, too large. What if I pulled them close and whispered what I thought had caused it, and felt their fingers dig into my plush hips, a wicked look in their eye as they push me gently back onto the bed, too weighed-down to resist and too swept-up to try, and they put their hands, reverent, on my massive belly, and smiled with an irresistible hunger....

What then?

Her smallest babies. But most painful pregnancy.

Dragonborn are hot as hell though like damn they're all so huge and scaled and wonderful and god fuck just imagine you're riding her thick knotted cock every day, she loves to touch you and hold you close and rub your soft human skin oh so gently because you're breakable, feeling her claws and fangs on you when you kiss or she gets excited and bites your shoulders

and you're not using protection because, well, dragonborn can't get humans pregnant, so you can just enjoy how it feels whenever she cums raw in you and fills you and that knot makes sure none of it comes loose and it always feels so good...

so when your belly starts swelling she doesn't think much at first, until one night she's laying there with you dozing on her knot and frowns as her thumb rubs over your soft belly, and she presses down and feels something hard, but that's definitely not possible. Only now she's noticed it's obvious how rapidly it's growing

and next month you can't deny that it's there, a solid heavy weight, and a dragonborn doula confirms that - somehow - unbelievably - you have two dragonborn eggs growing inside your womb. You never thought it would happens, but you're both unbelievably happy...

oaugh

these baby's are growing really fast

Doing the lord's work. Go support them!

New film!!!