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Latest Posts by birthbitchii - Page 4
Hmmmm signing up to help rare creatures breed but you're put in a pen with a wide variety and the contract doesn't end until you've birthed one of all of them at least, and they all get free reign on you, waddling around full of cum and bred over and over and no matter what you do, how many you produce, one of them just never seems to be able to give you a baby, and as you squat and moan as your immensely full body pushes out yet another griffin egg you see them lounging nearby, sure that scaled face is twisted in amusement, and wonder if they're even capable of breeding you at all or if you're here forever more...
hm. guy in labor with a big egg being forced to ride on horseback as prisoner. the rough movement of the horse combined with his labor pains and belly being jostled around is unbearable. and the egg being constantly rammed back into his hips whenever he makes the tiniest progress to get it out. obviously, his captors are unsympathetic.
oooohh thats soooo good. His captors watch as he struggles and writhes in his binds, begging and pleading them to let him give birth as he pushes uselessly. Each step the horse takes is agony, the constant bouncing forces the giant egg to fuck him over and over, leaving him a sobbing, writhing mess. Sometimes when his captors want to be even crueller, they bring his horse to a canter and laugh as his belly is thrown into the air and slammed down on the horses back while he screams for the horse to stop. When they tell his horse to gallop, the force of the egg being rammed back up into his bouncing belly is so painful he can't breathe, and only until he nearly blacks out from the pain do they finally bring the horse back to a walk. They have miles and miles to go before they reach their destination, and the poor boy is forced to hold in the giant egg until they arrive
We need more pregnant near/bursting on this site.
A belly so stuffed with babies that labor has to happen *now* or else the host will die.
Babies that keep growing in labor so you have to push HARDER to get them out before they break you.
Eggs that are hatching inside you and get them out now, get them out!!
How many are inside me?!
Oh God, it's stuck, but they keep growing, oh my God, don't let them kill me!
Oh God!
Oh my God it hurts!!
Oh GOD GET IT OUT OF ME!!
My belly is so full~ I feel my insides ripping open, I’m going to pop!~😩
"How many are inside me?"
- The hottest thing a pregnant person can say
an egg pregnancy but they stay in your birth canal, growing bigger and heavier day after day, pressing against your hole, begging to be birthed but you can’t push, they’re not ready yet. the more they grow, the lower they feel inside you, and you have to resist the urge to get on your knees until they’re so big you’re so uncomfortable and full, stretching open your boycunt as you have no choice but to bear down.
the eggs getting so huge that they end up practically pushing themselves out because there's no more room is so hot
The desperation when they're stuck at full crown and the head won't move. Crying and wailing and begging. Pushing uselessly even when they're not contracting. Desperate to escape the horrible burning stretch. It's right there, holding them brutally open. It's going to take a couple good strong pushes to come all the way out but their strength is already failing and they can't think through the mind numbing pressure and pain. So they writhe and scream, wasting energy they can't afford to lose.
Especially if the thing that they're incubating is far too strong for them to contain and leaves them bruised with every kick.
It can't just be unusually big. It needs to be incongruent, impossibly large. Almost several times their size.
As it wasn't content with stealing their mobility, it threatens to take their life with every movement.
Now imagine all of this but against all reason, there already capable of the breeding with others. They're just a fetus that's impossible and yet something penetrating your tubes.
Firing volley after volley of seed deep within you, insuring that they'll have many, many siblings before this is over.
Being pinned down by pregnancy.
Feeling the drop into your pelvis.
Feeling the head grind against your hips.
You can barely close your legs, because it's coming.
Feeling the head **right** **there**.
Bulging.
I of course love rapid pregnancy, and I’ve written a lot about it- but I also REALLY love an accelerated pregnancy that’s not quite as fast. A pregnancy that lasts maybe 3-4 days, so it develops quickly, but you wouldn’t notice the belly growing if you watched it. You only notice when you haven’t seen the person for a day or so and go “Hey, have you…grown?”
God~ it’s so biggg~! I think I’m gonna need some help pushing them out!!~ 🥵🥵🥵
“OH!! OH GOD!!! I’M GIVING BIRTH!! ”
The Blessings of the Brotherhood
For request 465.13
13. an order of monks where, sometimes, they get pregnant. no one knows why. the robes hide it well enough, and they're not supposed to speak on it. when a brother gives birth, he is meant to do it alone, and leave the child at the alter when no one sees him. no one knows what happens to the infants...until one brother rebels.
As the newest monk in the order, you never have the good work, or the easy tasks. You spend most of your working hours laboring away outside in the fields, chopping firewood, or otherwise doing something back-breaking. It keeps you lean and fit, as all the young second-order monks are. You and your peers keep the abbey heated, fed, clean, and in good repair while the first order actually performs the service to your god- acquisition and safekeeping of knowledge.
Every twelve hours, a service is held in the temple, the elder monks seat on low benches before the abbot, and the second order kneeling in rows behind them. You pray every day for your god to use you as his vessel, to make you an instrument of the faith, and to grant you the patience and wisdom to recognize his blessing when it comes. When you lift your head and survey your brothers in faith, you notice Brother Aspen is missing from his spot near the first order's benches. He'd been a little off for a few weeks now, and you ponder if he had had an injury or illness.
Rising from the morning service, you take your usual task for the day from the elder monk who oversees the second order and go to the wood shed. Wagons of wood have been dumped to one side, and you will split and stack as much as you can for the day before evening service. It's one of the few tasks that permit you to remove your robes, leaving you in a thin linen shirt and plain trousers.
You chop wood all morning and afternoon, pausing only for water and brief rests to catch your breath. You're unsure as to what your brothers do during their menial labors, but you recite the prayers you learned in the abbey's school down the hill, preparing to enter as a monk. It means you pray for hours and hours every day and have since your induction into the second order several months prior. You wonder if it makes you a good monk, or merely one who doesn't understand the calling of your god.
By the evening service, you are physically exhausted, but you take your spot at the back and watch as the rest of your brothers file in, robes perfectly ordered and faces lowered. The abbot begins the first prayer, voice smooth and even and ringing in the temple chamber, echoed by the brothers. You notice the abbot's robes aren't falling quite right for once, but know better than to remark upon it at dinner. No one ever remarks upon why.
When you recite the last prayer, entreating your god to use you as an instrument for the faith, as a vessel for his will, to bless you as he sees fit, you feel a warm sort of squeeze low in your belly. Thinking nothing of it, you rise at the end and go to the refectory for your dinner. Your days pass in a very similar fashion, right down to the warm squeeze in your pelvis at the end of every service. By the end of the week, you've begun to anticipate that squeeze. You've also noticed the abbot looking distinctly blessed, as it were. Sooner or later, he will miss a service and then all will be as it was. Indeed, he misses the evening service a week after those warm sensations began, and at the end of the final prayer, you feel a distinct pop! instead of the usual pulse. You eat dinner as usual, speaking amongst your friends, and go to bed with a final prayer before blowing out the candle.
In the morning, when you dress, you notice your trousers are fitting rather snug. Usually comfortable and easy to move in, they're tight across the front of your hips and lower belly. There are no mirrors in the abbey, but you think maybe your middle feels a little less flat than it normally does- that, or the monks in the laundry boiled the clothes too long again. You carry on with your day, eating breakfast, attending the morning service, and then taking this week's assignment. The abbot lets his eye linger over you for a moment before sending you to the kitchens. Surprised, you report to the cook-monk and begin washing the endless supply of dishes. As you work, you recite your prayers over and over and over. When everyone departs for the evening service, your trousers are pinching terribly, and you know.
Instead of praying for the god's blessing, you recite the prayers of thanks and gratitude. He chose you to carry his next offering, to use you as his vessel. You indeed had patience to wait to be sure, and wisdom enough to recognize the earliest signs. You've been in the abbey less than a year, and already carrying an offering inside you!
At dinner, you're quieter but immensely pleased, and eat your meal quickly to retire to your room. Shedding your robes, you notice the way your once-flat middle pushes out between your hip bones, straining the waist of your trousers. Releasing the buttons, you know immediately that you won't be able to do them back up in the morning, the bulge pushing out as the pressure is released. Stripping down to your undergarment, you smooth your hands over the firm bulge, your callouses scraping the smooth skin. Out of habit, you recite a prayer in your head, and feel a gentle pressure against your palms. Did your belly... grow?
Kneeling down beside your cot, you rest your hands on the modest bulge and bow your head. One after another, you recite every prayer that you could possibly apply to your situation. The more you mean them, the more your gut begins to strain out and away from your body. And with every bit of growth, the gratitude becomes more and more sincere.
When the curfew bell rings, you jolt out of a sort of trace, and admire the taut globe under your hands. Deep inside you, something swishes and flutters. Your blessing! Deeply satisfied, you clamor quickly into bed, eager for the morning and yet more to offer your god.
Dressing for the day, you can fit into only your robes, your stomach having swollen further through the night. Eating quickly, you are one of the first into the temple for the service, second only to the abbot. He watches you cross to your spot near the back, undeniably blessed, and there is surprise in his features. Kneeling down and lowering your head, you begin to pray again. During the service, you hardly notice any growth at all, but once you're back washing dishes, everything accelerates again. Twelve hours at a sink leave you with lots of time for worship, and your burgeoning belly swells outward, eventually impeding your ability to reach into the deepest sink. The flutters turned to swoops and rolls and then undeniable hands and feet under your skin and robes. Leaving the back corner of the kitchen, the cook-monk does a double-take when he sees your altered gait. You pray fervently in the service, pulling your navel another inch away from your spine, weight sinking deeply into your pelvis. Soon, so soon, you will have committed your first offering to your god!
The moment your door closes behind you, you strip naked again and stroke the prodigious belly hanging off of your frame. Kneeling beside your bed again, you get through the first line of the first prayer of gratitude when something gives way inside you, and fluid gushes from your hole to splatter on the floor. Again, you sink into the trance as you pray, meaning every word with every fibre of yourself. Your enormous belly visibly tightens in a regular pattern, the weight sinking further into your pelvis, pleasure rolling in waves through you. You stroke your erect cock with one hand as a spasm rolls through you, tipping your head back in pleasure.
Just as the curfew bell rings, you feel the undeniable urge to bear down. Pressure and pleasure mix as you tuck your chin, pushing and praying in equal measure. Something begins to spread your hole, and you reach back to feel the muscular ring sitting open about an inch. The next spasm seizes you, and you mentally scream your prayers to your god as your body clenches down in ecstasy. Your hole softens and spreads more, leaving your hand there to feel your progress. The next spasm never relents, spreading your body as you stroke your cock with one hand and cup your blessing as it emerges from your body with the other. Stuck in the unrelenting spasm, you silently scream through a few orgasms as the blessing is pushed out into the world.
Slumped against the edge of the bed, it takes a few minutes for you to come around enough to reach down and touch the babe between your thighs. There's no cord, no afterbirth, just aftershocks as your belly returns to its sleek, lean state right before your eyes. Scooping the babe up, you wrap him in a towel from your washstand. Absolute perfection. Your god planted a seed of his power in your body, and your devoutness brought forth the blessing in a matter of days, instead of the two or more weeks most monks take- only the abbot could do it a single week.
Laying down on the bed with your perfect bundle, you drift off without meaning to, and wake late the following morning. No one would bother you unless you called for aid- some brothers took days to be delivered of their blessings. The child rooted at your chest, and you didn't protest when he latched onto your nipple, though you hadn't developed breasts. The babe was nourished anyway, a hot prickle announcing the let down of milk. Amazed, you fed him from the other side before drifting off again.
You next awoke in the middle of the night, though a candle burned on your bedtable. Sitting on the foot of the bed was a glorious, naked man. Impossible to describe visually but radiating heat, and with the cleverest golden eyes.
"You didn't bring your offering to my alter," the god said mildly, studying the way you cradled the babe against you.
You lower your head, ashamed. "I have failed you, my lord."
The god shook his head. "I will overlook the disobedience this time, but next time, the offering must be given over to the alter, to me. Do you understand?"
You nod sadly, offering the babe to him. He takes pity on you briefly, speaking as he accepts the child.
"This is the price the founders of this abbey agreed to pay in exchange for the ability to find and preserve the knowledge of this world," the god said, tucking the babe into the crook of his elbow. "The brothers will bear my offerings, but not raise them. Instead, these babes are raised throughout the kingdom- to return to join the order and continue to seek the knowledge of this place, and bring forth the next brothers. Only when all of history and learning is safe within these walls will the price be considered paid."
You marvel up at your god. "But that's... we can never achieve that. Not when this kingdom, when civilization continues to expand, to make progress!"
"I know," the god said, smirking as he rose with the babe. "Enjoy your blessing."
Deep in your belly, you felt that distinct pop! again. Without hesitating, you began to recite your prayers again, a bulge pushing outward between your hipbones again.
It's Rambles again! Bit of a long one this time, but here you go!
Your dad is a doctor and we're bored, fucking around with his stuff. You use the tongue depressors as you try to suppress your gag reflexes, then look to see if he has any of the good drugs.
Playing around, I grab the stethoscope and press it to your chest, using the excuse to cup your breast, stroking your unusually sensitive nipple. We laugh, as I run it down along your body.
I pause at your stomach. I frown. Heartbeats
Plural.
"What is it?" You sit up.
I listen again and laugh, weaker. It's ridiculous.
"It almost sounds like . . . You're pregnant." I say.
You grab the stethoscope and listen. It can't be true. You lost your virginity to a one night stand three days ago but now you hear one . . .
Two . . .
Three . . .
Four . . .
Five . . .
They've been trapped with their legs tied together for hours, screaming and crying and pleading to be allowed to push their baby out. The pressure in their pelvis is unbearable as their body tries to force the head through. The contractions are coming almost on top of each other. Exhausted, they sag against their bonds, too tired to even scream any more. They simply twitch and whimper as each new contraction wracks their body.
Finally their cruel captor decides they've had enough and unties the ropes holding their legs. They sob in relief, finally able to listen to the desperate signals from their body to spread their legs. Unfortunately a new problem soon makes itself apparent. As the next contraction builds they try to push but barely manage to engage their muscles. After all this time they are just too exhausted to push this baby out. Contractions shove the head lower, engaging it fully in their pelvis. The stretch and fullness makes them wail. They try to push again but the head doesn't move at all. It's just behind their lips, bulging out their pussy obscenely, but their body no longer had the power to force it past their tight opening. Maybe if they could get up gravity would help them along, but they're stuck on their back, trapped under the swollen swell of their belly. Their captor laughs and settles in the watch their struggle. Perhaps eventually the contractions alone will force the head out. Maybe after some time they will gain enough energy to push again. Only time will tell, and either way it's going to be a good long show.
A concept I've had stuck in my head for a while is an experimental facility where scientists are testing a procedure that makes humans produce and lay eggs. After a lot of trial and error they've got it down pretty well. The test subjects produce around 6-10 eggs a month in line with what used to be their menstrual cycle. The eggs are just a bit bigger than chicken eggs. Not super pleasant to push out but doable without much fuss. The whole project is viewed as a scientific triumph.
But what the news crews and scientific prize judges don't see are all of the poor souls who were in the first few rounds of testing before the procedure was perfected.
Some produce an egg every hour, their bellies filling quickly if they don't spend their whole day pushing them out. In the early stages they hadn't figured out how to standardize egg size so these unlucky subjects go from tiny grape sized eggs to eggs the size of grapefruit with no warning. Some become so fed up and exhausted from constantly birthing that they refuse to push for days despite their stomachs swelling and cramping. Just a day or two and they will appear full term with a human baby. Eventually the pressure will be too much and they will be forced to push. The backed up eggs will come shooting out of their holes much too fast making them scream. But once they start it's almost impossible to stop until most of the pressure has eased. At that point there will still be eggs inside and they will have to heave and strain, desperate to empty their overtaxed womb, knowing that even now a new egg is forming.
Others produce an egg less often, once every few days or so, but the eggs are much too big. Most are about as big around as a newborn's head. These unlucky subjects are forced to experience the agony of childbirth multiple times a week or, if they refuse to push, for hours at a time when they finally are forced to birth the built up eggs. The cruel irony is that the drugs used to induce egg production make their holes much more resilient meaning they stay tight never getting stretched out and lose no matter how many births they endure.
However, even they are fortunate in comparison to the most miserable test subject in the facility. They were one of the first to undergo the procedure and their body had a unique and unfortunate reaction. At first it seemed like it was working well. They produced a small clutch of fist sized eggs. Then on their next cycle one of the eggs grew extremely fast. Overnight it had grown larger than a full term baby. Their belly was stretched horribly, streaked with angry red stretch marks from being forced to expand much too fast. The scientists were baffled. They tried having the subject lay their eggs. They managed to pass all the regular sized eggs but it soon became apparent that the big egg would never be able to pass through their hips. It was completely stuck.
This subject is still in the facility now. They follow a miserable routine. Over the month their already overfull stomach swells until they finally feel the tell tale spasms of contractions. They squat and push, slowly laying 6 or so eggs the size of their fist. It's hard, agonizing work, each hard shell stretching them open and dragging against their sensitive walls.
Then comes the worst part. The weight of the giant egg settles into their hips. They push desperately, working the tip down into their birth canal. Several long hard pushes later the tip will be visible parting their lips, peaking out into the world. They will labor and push for hours and the egg will inch out of them, it's huge girth stretching their hole beyond its limit. Then, as it always does, the egg will stop moving. No matter how frantically they push they cannot move the egg out another millimeter. It is caught in their hips, too wide to pass through the pelvic opening. They will rock their hips and moan and cry in bitter frustration as their tortured hole spasms around the gargantuan egg.
Finally the staff takes pity on them and comes to their aid. The subject struggles and screams, pleading to be let to push for just a bit longer, they can do it this time, this time they'll get it out, it's almost there! please don't push it back in again!! But their pleas fall on deaf ears. They are held down and the giant egg is slowly pushed back into their womb. They howl in pain and cry with bitter frustration and the rough shell slides back inside. The terrible wright settles back into their perpetually stretched womb and the cycle begins again.
Your belly keeps stretching onwards and upwards, the child kicking with inhuman strength.
They're too big, theirs no way you could possibly give birth to this thing. You don't know what it is but it's clear that what ever it is, its not human.
No human pregnancy lasts a year, no human child could make a parent rival their couch in length.
The adventurer was exploring a cave when he was captured by a drider, and speared on her ovipositor. She left an egg sac inside him, stretching his belly to a heaving full term mound in minutes. He endured the pain and the humiliation as best he could; eventually he could lay the eggs and forget this ever happened.
But that was months ago, and his hard, heavy belly is starting to move. The eggs are hatching inside him. His belly already hurts so much supporting the weight of the eggs, and now he’s getting bigger, and his skin hurts so much. He still doesn’t know how to get his clutch out of him.
If you are pregnant with something (or somethings) you don't understand, please contact me.
Not gonna lie, getting an ultrasound and the tech gets more and more confused for any reason is *peak*
Getting an ultrasound and the tech getting more and more confused because it doesn't make sense because that's not a baby in there that's an egg. That's multiple eggs, clustering in your belly, their shells showing on the scan, and he doesn't know what to say or do because it's not possible especially with your normal husband smiling widely at the screen and how does he explain that what you're seeing is not normal? At all?
And afterwards you laugh and hold the picture tight as your husband loosens his human disguise and kisses you with sharp teeth and a tongue that can slide all the way down your throat --
BOO!
Now you're scarily pregnant. Good luck with the immense brood of squirming monsters~
OH NOOO!
I'm feeling alien pregnancy right now, so thinking about being heavily overdue pregnant, I look over due with triplets, and I'm just barely riding the cusp of so huge it's not normal. But I'm still just barely small enough I could pass for gravid with human life. And they start moving, and I'm cursing, and someone comes alongside and starts cooing and asking when I'm due. They start rubbing my active ripe belly, but when the longer they do, the more active my inhumane brood gets. The squirming quickly turned into proper writhing as the alien babies in me start getting disgruntled being prodded at.
"Oh I'm due any day now-" I grit out but my belly was flat just this morning and the dark blue viens protruding through my groaning belly only made me hope this alien brood would stop growing soon. I couldn't get any bigger than this- I couldn't. My stomach sloshed as the amniotic fluid shook when my whole stomach lurched in a way that no human child ever would. The person is undeterred and only uses both hands to stir my alien brood further. I can barely hold back a strangled noise when I physically feel my belly grow an inch wider in my own lap. The growth was accompanied by a gurgled groan from my overtaxed womb. And yet another source of movement suddenly squirms inside me. And I have to fight not to cum in my jeans then and there at the sensation of being turned into an alien breeder.
I feel like I’m already 10 cm dilated….
She was in full denial.
Although she had felt the insemination, every moment of it, on the alien craft, she was in denial. The eggs, afterall, were small and soft and so when she awoke in a cold sweat, she didn't feel different. As she walked downstairs to eat breakfast, she had no way of knowing, the alien eggs were attaching to her uterus and growing.
She went to her classes, unaware that the eggs were not only implanting but growing. She went about her day without a single care, besides the odd twinge of pain that was easy to ignore, as the eggs grew.
She pulled on her dress to go out and only briefly ran her hands along the slight swell beneath her navel. There's nothing to worry about. She sucked in, and while it didn't disappear, it wasn't obvious.
She danced, they grew. She met a man. He bought her a drink. The eggs *ached* to be fertilized. She smiled and glowed, running a hand along his thigh. Her breasts felt fuller
In the bathroom now, he is pulling up her dress and down her panties. He enters her against the sink as she gasps. He is nothing special, but it feels so good, like ectasy, every thrust a mission. In minutes he climaxes, soaking the eggs, which each suck up multiple sperm.
She goes back to dancing, unaware.
The next morning, she wakes up to a pounding headache and an aching gut. She stumbles from bed to go for the advil but stops in front of the mirror. Her belly is hanging off of her like she's at least 6 months pregnant. Her mouth drops open. How is this possible? Is she dreaming?
She touches it slowly and it feels real. What on Earth . . . ? She lifts her heavy stomach and drops it. She has to laugh, as this is too insane.
She doesn't know what to do except put on a hoodie to hide her stomach and go to work. She might have been in shock, but it felt so unreal.
(Image link in description)
She just got on the bus and went to work. She ignored the feeling of foreign objects clacking and shifting inside her. She would have to alter how she stood at the deli counter as the eggs in her changed shape.
On break, people give her odd looks as she hunches over the table, sweating, rubbing her stomach. She feels like something is wrong, but she will just go to the doctor after work. It's been eight hours since she was fucked.
Her belly was now halfway exposed and there was no hiding it as she walked, slowly, from station to station.
"Are you okay, miss?" An older woman asked. She smiled and handed her the sliced ham and said she was just tired. The older woman looked at her belly with concern but said nothing.
The store closed, and she began to clean her section.
That was when the eggs began to hatch inside her.
She has never felt anything so intenae or weirdly violent. She gasps in the dimly lit store, doubling over the mop bucket as the first of many eggs crack inside her womb, the alien spawn slowly emerging. It was so painful she was struck mute for a moment.
Dropping the mop, she starts to walk as quickly as she can, her gait wide, to the front of the store. She feels something hard but sharp press into her birth canal. Another egg hatches inside her, CRACK, and she screams.
"Something is wrong!"
Her coworker was shocked as he found her, still swelling, her stomach moving unnaturally. The normal, gentle fetal movements were replaced with thumps and thrashes. She is collapsed to her knees and then her back.
"Help!!" She cried, her throat tight, her belly growing as more and more aliens emerge.
"I'll call 911!" Her coworker offered, but he just needed to get away from her. She rolled onto her side, her stomach churning, tossing, pressing, sharp egg shell mixing with inhuman limbs. Still growing.
"Come back and help me!" She screamed as her coworker ran out of the building. "Get them out of me!!" Slowly, getting to her knees, she started to crawl. "They're killing me!!"
Her belly hung low, swinging underneath her, as she tried to reach the phone. It slowly pressed out, the movements jerking in all directions. Before she could reach the counter, her stomach touched the ground, her bellybutton grazing it.
She reached for the phone, a moment away, stretching pressed the creatures down towards her hips, before a sharp contraction, her belly oressing out further, pushing her back down.
She rolled onto her back and felt pinned. This was it. She screamed as her body worked to try to expel the aliens, who continued to grow and hatch. In her last moments, deliriously, she tried to count how many bodies she felt inside her. She lost count.
She was the first. But not the last.
Big belly birthing