Untitled

25 | FTM | where I go to do horny blogging

[secanik2]

Yall i found this and felt extremely seen, this is literally us in the preg community 😂

(the original vid is gold too)

Source ->

Audio from this www.instagram.com/p/DTBO4BZAfMK/

[sintextstories]

Okay, so imagine you're on a sleeper ship on its way to either start or join a colony on a distant planet. It's going to take a few decades to arrive, but the ship needs a conscious crew to function, so the stasis is taken in shifts. Each crew spends about five years of the journey awake before rousing the next crew and returning to stasis themselves. In stasis, your biological functions don't stop, but they slow to a crawl. Your shift is near the beginning of the journey, so when you wake up, its almost time to land and begin your new life on a new world.

The first thing you notice as you slowly wake up is that you feel extremely bloated. Your the usually loose fabric of the stasis jumpsuit is stretched tight across your distended abdomen. Your insides feel unsettled; there's a tangible movement in your guts as they gurgle inside you. You've never heard of this as a side effect, but stasis does odd things to the body sometimes, so you're not worried. You figure it will be one of those things you just have to deal with for a few days, and it will wear off by the time you reach the planet.

The spike of excitement you feel at finally reaching your destination sets your belly squirming all the more vigorously. You give it a rub, trying to soothe it, and find it surprisingly firm to the touch. Now that you're a little more awake, you realize it's a lot bigger than you first thought, too. It's like there's a basketball inside you. You'll have to ask if this is normal.

Realizing you're awake, a doctor approaches, to go over all the standard post-stasis testing that was done as you slowly came around. She cheerfully asks how you're feeling.

Mostly fine, you say, but your stomach feels pretty strange.

She reassures you that everything about yours scans seems normal. You might feel a little off for a few days, but everything looks good, and your pregnancy is progressing as expected.

Hold on, you tell her, you aren't pregnant.

She insists that you are. There is a moment of confusion before she realizes of course you don't know yet, obviously you were still asleep. Its all such old news to the current crew by now that she completely forget she needed to brief you. Sorry about that. The cheerfulness is back, as if this was not completely insane news. Somehow, you became pregnant while you were in stasis. Numb with shock, you manage to ask her how it happened.

In addition to its many passengers, the ship was carrying an immense load of stored, frozen embryos. These were unrelated to any passengers, and were meant to be stored long term at the colony. There were problems in the past with isolated colonies becoming too insular, so these would have been added to the population over many years to keep the genetic diversity of the colony high.

Unfortunately, a few shifts ago, the storage freezers failed. The only way avoid losing the entire shipment was to implant as many of the embryos as possible, as quickly as possible. The crew that was working at the time had to make a call, and every available womb on the ship was pressed into service. Of course that crew took on some of the burden themselves, and those children were born on the ship and placed into stasis with their parents. But, there was another complication: if they had distributed the embryos evenly, there wouldn't be enough equipment to put all of those new children in stasis. So, they had to priorities placing as many as possible with the passengers who would be in stasis the longest, so the majority of the babies would be born either during the last years of the voyage or after it arrived.

She was pretty surprised by that herself when she woke up unexpectedly pregnant at the beginning of her turn, but she assures you that her own five year old triplets are doing great, and sees no reason your children won't do just fine as well. Again, as if that's the only part of this situation you would be worried about.

Hold on, you say. Is she telling you you're carrying three babies?!

Well no, she says. You're among the last to be woken up, so your cohort had the highest concentration of implantations.

Which is to say, you're actually carrying four. According to the scans, and accounting for the length of the stasis, you are around sixteen weeks along.

Your stomach clenches, the shock of this news pushing everything else from your mind. You stare down at your swollen belly, feeling faint as the understanding hits you that the squirming you feel is the first movement of new life growing inside you, awoken from stasis at the same time you were. You already feel huge, but you're not even halfway finished growing. What in the world are you going to do?!

So begins your new life on a new planet. Consider this one giant waddle for mankind.

[dilfpregcentral]

im peanut brittle guy uhhhh. um. I love medieval times trans guys hehe.... maybe orgasmic birth denial? :3 -👽🛸

(A request for anon that donated to my short-lived ko-fi. Thank you king 🙏)

This got me thinking of a classic medieval knight… When he’s inducted into the royal guard, his agreeable personality and keen sparring instinct make him an instant favorite among the other knights. So, it’s no surprise when one of them invites him to his bunk to blow off some steam after a long day patrolling; without much time for romancing maidens, it’s not unusual for the knights to find release with their fellows.

What is unusual is the tight, wet pussy between the new knight’s legs, and the perky little tits that bounce so cutely on his chest when he arches his back and groans to be fucked harder. Word spreads quickly through the barracks, and soon all of the guardsmen are flocking to him, aching to try him.

Our knight ends up heavy-eyed and sleepy during his long patrols, but the others cover for him—after all, they know it’s their fault he’s so poorly rested, since he spends most of his off-duty time pressed between the firm, sweaty bodies of multiple men. Especially after a battle, they often spear him open on two cocks at once, his head bouncing limply on one of their strong shoulders while he whimpers and jerks with the latest in a countless number of orgasms.

His fellow knights are gentlemen, of course, and always pull out, even washing him clean after they stripe his belly and thighs with their seed. But with so many needy, dripping cocks fucking so deep into him, it’s only a matter of time before a slight swell appears just above his hipbones, and he shyly confirms to his questioning lovers that his blood has ceased coming.

The barracks buzz with excitement, musings about who sired the child going quickly by the wayside as each one finds himself caring for the pregnant knight as if he were their husband, and his womb ripening with their own seed. Even those that are at first skeptical of a man bearing a child come around when they lay their hands on the tiny curve of his belly for themselves. As far as anyone is concerned, the child belongs to all of them.

At first, the evidence of the knight’s pregnancy is nothing but a palm-sized bump, detectable only by his most intimate partners. But soon, his growing womb fills out the tunic that was once loose on him, not yet eye-catching, but certainly visible to those who care to look. His chest, too, begins to prepare for the child, tiny tits rounding into tender breasts that must be squeezed into the confines of his chain mail. When his fellows help him out of his armor at the end of a watch, several helpers always stand by, ready to massage his aching breasts, or knead his burdened back, or press their face into his swollen pussy until his tense joints hang pleasure-limp.

His armor seems to grow heavier at the same rate as his womb, his joints straining beneath the combined weight. He struggles, too, to fulfill his duties while so much of his vigor goes straight to forming the babe in his belly. When one day he finally succumbs to his delicate condition and collapses near the end of his watch, the captain of the guard—who has gone to bed with him as often if not more than most of the other guardsman—has him moved to guard the throne room.

Standing on his swollen feet all day still exhausts him, but outside of the occasional uncomfortable shifting as his body aches and his child moves, he draws no attention to himself there. His armor manages to conceal his pregnancy even as his time grows closer—though he imagines the blacksmith who fashioned his cuirass chose its barrel shape to provide empty space for absorbing the impact of enemy swords, not as a vessel to be packed tight with a pregnant belly and milk-swollen breasts. It’s a tight fit, forcing his gut high enough that the child shifts backwards, a strain on his lower spine. They don’t take well to the limited space, protesting with sharp kicks that pinch the wall of his belly against the armor. He longs to rub soothing hands over his bump, but he wouldn’t dare do such a thing while on watch, even if he could reach his belly through the metal.

As the weeks pass, he keeps distending, his child a foreboding point of pressure deep in his pelvis. His belly begins to droop low, and he can’t keep his hands off the raw, stretched skin, scratching at fresh stretch marks and wincing at the growing web of tender veins. The other knights handle him lovingly, often appearing behind him to hold up his belly for a few minutes. In bed, their affections grow gentle, and the pregnant knight becomes accustomed to strong hands caressing his aching breasts while someone’s hard cock grinds ever so gently between his legs, not quite inside him, but giving his clit more than enough friction to have him cumming with a mewling cry.

Finally, he wakes one morning to a great pain in his gut. He screws his eyes shut and clutches the tense surface of his belly, trying to breathe through it without waking his bedmate. When it passes, he rouses the other knight, who helps dress him for his watch. When it comes time to lift his belly as high as he can and compress it against his body so that he can get his armor on, he clenches his jaw and pants through his teeth. His lover, waiting with the cuirass at the ready, asks if he’s okay. He says he will be once he’s dressed.

But that isn’t the case at all. His belly barely fits in the armor anymore, forcing the baby in and down until a terrible pain envelops his pelvic cradle, far worse than his daily aches in these last months. The head of his child feels so, so low.

He prays that the babe will wait to come until his watch ends. In response, another contraction lances through his belly and into his lower back. He barely swallows back his whimper.

But he must fulfill his duty.

He takes his place in the throne room, grateful that his helm conceals the winces and twists of his features as he struggles to endure labor in silence. But it becomes so hot beneath the metal, heady and claustrophobic. He longs to turn and bend over, to hang onto the knight behind him as he rocks his hips. He wants to pace, and groan with his whole chest, and rub his tensing belly.

Hours pass. Vaguely, the knight is aware that if there were an emergency, he would be no help to the king, at this point. All he wants is to be back in his chambers, on his hands and knees, with a midwife comforting him.

When the urge to push overwhelms him, he knows it won’t be much longer. He tries not to, but his body needs it, tugging on the muscles in his belly, tempting his reflexes. He can only resist for so long before finally he indulges in a small push. His mouth falls open as he feels the head of his child lodge suddenly deeper within him, surely passing from his womb into his pussy.

The progress is intoxicating, and he forgets himself after that, pushing as hard as he’s able without moving too much. It’s easier than he thought to stay quiet, the effort stealing his sound from his throat. When a particularly forceful push makes him feel like the head is coming out of him, he finally lets a sound slip, the softest of grunts.

“Is it the child?”

The whisper comes from behind him, a knight much older than him who likes to press extra fingers into his cunt and thumb at his clit when he rides on top.

“Yes,” he breathes, loud as he dares. “It’s- coming out. I think it’s coming out of me.”

Suddenly there’s a hand between his legs. He barely swallows his yelp, a sudden warmth coursing through his body as the large hand feels his cunt through the his trousers. He finds himself very grateful that his tabard hides this impertinence from the court.

“Nothing is coming out,” the knight assures him calmly.

How could that be? “Then soon. I— hng!” He must bite his tongue to keep his cry at bay as the vice closes around him once again, urging the child ever-lower. More heat bubbles up within him as the head fills his pussy and creates pressure behind his clit.

“Oh.” Awe softens the gruff whisper behind him. “I feel it. It’s stretching you.”

“It’s big,” he whispers, struggling not to squirm where he stands. He didn’t expect it to feel like this. It hurts, yes, so much he can hardly bear it, but- this pressure on his most sensitive place… he chews his lip.

With his next push, something gives inside him, a sensation he can’t quite place. Then his thighs begin to grow warm, and he understands. There’s a slight flinch from the hand between his legs, but it steadies again, his fellow knight clearly understanding what’s happened. The babe feels even lower, though there’s less pressure now, somewhat relieving that strange feeling he’s had.

It feels as if barely a minute passes before he contracts again, and he lets his chin fall ever so slightly with the effort of his push. He knows that he shouldn’t do this, that if a babe drops from between his legs before the whole royal court, he’ll be found out and imprisoned, or at the very least stripped of his knighthood. But he can’t help it. He must push, as vital as his breath.

And what a push it is, heaving the head low and making his mouth fall open as the awful stretching pain ignites into the worst agony he’s ever experienced. The pressure, too, increases somehow, right against that special place. His clit, already rendered to a sharp point of pain, begins to twitch and swell all the more.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes against his visor. Ever so slightly, he rocks his spreading hips and his baby-filled cunt back against his fellow’s hand. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“I feel it. It’s huge. I can’t believe that’s coming out of you.”

Neither can he. Desperately, he wishes to scream, or drop into a squat, or lay back on the floor and pull his legs as far apart as he can get them. He’s almost relieved when the next contraction comes.

He pushes so hard that his thighs tremble, and wheezes through his teeth as he crowns into his lover’s hand, cunt burning, pressure growing. God, it really feels like he needs to…

No, this isn’t the time. He puts everything he has into breathing without making too much sound, the air thick and thin at once in the confines of his visor.

The next one comes, and the sensation in his clit winds sharper, making him instinctively squeeze his legs together. For a moment he feels like the head is about to burst out behind his thighs, but the knight’s hand stays firm, and the head simply bobs where it is, an instant of relief before it returns to a full crown.

“Hah- aah—“ He feels drool tickle one corner of his mouth. His lover holds the head just-so, keeping his cunt stretched to its absolute limit, burning all the way back towards his arse, and that pressure…!

“Okay,” the other knight whispers behind him, “let me try…”

He begins to push the head back in. The birthing knight flinches, his deepest instincts railing against the sensation, but before he can fully register what’s happening, the widest point of the skull digs into that special spot inside him.

Despite clenching his mouth shut, a high moan buzzes in his throat. His baby-heavy hips roll into his lover’s hand, and jolts of pain shock through his paper-thin pussy lips and the stretched flesh inside of his hole, his clit throbbing so strongly that he would have screamed in any other place.

He cums and cums and cums, until tears wet his cheeks and birthing fluid bursts in spurts from his pussy.

The knight behind him simply whispers, “Fuck,” and lets up, allowing the stimulation to ease, though the returning crown chases all of the pleasure with fiery pain.

The birthing knight is left trembling. He doesn’t even have the strength to push when he contracts again, but his body still manages to nudge the baby forward, and his lover responds again by easing the head back in. Lust and fear flood his chest, unsure if he can handle cumming like that again, but it washes over him all the same.

It goes on like that for the rest of the watch. He doesn’t cum with every contraction, but he feels like he will, sometimes teased for several minutes before the next one hits him. Soon there is no thought in his head but the blinding, white-hot pleasure-pain between his legs, and the ecstasy that keeps flooding his body, even as it shivers with pain.

He doesn’t even notice being dismissed by the change of guard, just starts walking blindly when his companion urges him to move, still holding the baby in. The clatter of so much armor drowns out his groans as his wobbling legs struggle to carry him, his ongoing birth feeling like a boiling welt even as he shudders through the aftershocks of his most recent orgasm.

Knowing they won’t make it back to the barracks, the other knight pulls him into the first empty room they pass and pulls the door shut. As he lays his back against the wall, the birthing knight thinks the babe will simply drop out of him the moment it’s no longer held in, but when the other knight starts using both hands to unfasten the cuisses from his thighs, his battered cunt somehow hangs onto the child’s head.

The left cuisse clatters to the floor, then the right, and the other knight reaches for the laces of his trousers. But his body has already tightened again, and he’s already bending at the knees and finally releasing the gravelly, animal groan that’s been building within him as he pushes. For a moment, he fears the head won’t even fit after all of that, but with one last snap of pain that makes him break into a small yelp, the head is born. It stretches his dripping trousers, a sight that leaves his helper speechless for a moment.

He feels the child turning within him, and cringing at the strange sensation, keeps pushing. A shoulder or an elbow digs into that place that makes his clit jump, and with one last gush of fluid, he cums the shoulders out. The child tumbles into his trousers while his pussy spasms and twitches.

While handing him the child, his companion eyes the tender-red place between his legs, dripping with birthing fluid and arousal. “Next time, we need to make sure everyone sees this. They’re not gonna believe me when I tell them how much our boy likes pushing bastards out of his cunt.”

That cunt tightens, and he squeezes his thighs together and whimpers, cumming to the promise of next time.

[donotpush1]

Mark's birth

Reupload of one of the first commissions I ever made, for @monkasss. Mpreg birth story, what's more important, push your baby out or try to not lose the videogame you're playing?

If anyone would have even tried to tell Mark that he would spend his first year of college massively pregnant, he would have laughed his ass off. Bending over and clutching at his stomach while crying type of laugh.

But here he was, pregnant. 

He did his parents a favor, after all, there was no better way to show how grateful he was for everything his parents have done for him than being their carrier, right?

He wasn’t too sure at first. He was young and had a bright future in front of him, but his parents gave him a solution for all the possible problems: as long as he were pregnant, he could stay at home and he would be treated like a king. He could try some sort of hybrid college modality, alternating between on-campus and virtuality, if the pregnancy was too much to just show up to class.

And, most important for Mark, he could be pregnant without having to take on the responsibilities that came with it after the fun part was done. 

Because for Mark, the fun part was everything he ever wanted: he wanted to feel his belly swell, tight and packed with life, watch himself grow and go through all the changes that pregnancy meant. He went from having that athletic frame, the trademark of a hot college boy, to having a huge belly resting in front of him, a chest now full of milk, heavy and sore, and everything that he already had, pregnancy made it better. 

When he found out he was carrying a single baby, he was disappointed. He hoped that his fun could be duplicated or even triplicated, having multiples sounded like the apex of pleasure to him.

Double the price, double the fun.

As his body changed and his belly started to swell, gravid and full, he was, indeed, treated like a king at his own home. But the treatment he got from his parents was the least part he cared about, Mark was infatuated with his pregnancy. 

Everything felt amazing. 

Morning sickness? He only had to bear with it for a few days. 

Pregnancy made him glow and it seemed like every little sensation was intensified now. Every part of his body was sensitive, from head to toe, and he knew how to make the most out  of it. 

The skin stretched and tight over his belly, how sensitive his chest was, how sensitive everything was. He got a whole new vision of how good belly rubs could be... and some of the best sex of his life.

Mark fell in love with not only everything that was happening on the outside, but also on the inside, feeling the baby move and kick inside him. Even if sometimes it would only mean kicking at his bladder or killing him with lower back pain. 

So he just sat down and grew, enjoying himself more every day until he finally had a nice, firm and swollen belly resting between his open thighs. The moment Mark would look down and face a huge mound of flesh, the moment he was unable to close his legs without it being so uncomfortable for his belly, the moment almost all of his clothes stopped fitting, that was when he was sure that it was all worth it.

If anyone would have even tried to tell Mark that he would spend his first year of college massively pregnant, huge and bloated, with the weight of a baby on his hips and almost constantly pressing against his prostate, it wouldn't have surprised him.

If anyone would have told Mark that he would be giving birth on Thanksgiving eve, laying on the floor of his bedroom with a videogame on pause on his TV, now that would have surprised him.

Mark lifted his hips, swinging them in the air trying to relieve some pressure. Under him, his belly pressed and rubbed against the carpet of the floor, sending shivers through his spine every time his belly button touched the fabric. 

It was all happening so fast, contraction after contraction striking his body as Mark felt the head of the baby starting to make its way down his birth canal, pressing against his prostate.

His parents had left early in the morning, and Mark assured his parents that the cramps he had been feeling were just Braxton hicks, nothing to worry about; he was right there on his due date, but it was nothing to worry about.

When the occasional cramps became more intense, each wave coming faster and stronger than the one before, Mark still thought he had time. 

Five minutes more of playing and he would consider calling his mom. 

And then five minutes became ten and ten turned into fifteen, Mark squirming on his seat and huffing under his breath, trying to get comfortable with the weight that was getting lower and lower on his hips. 

It was too late when his water broke all over the chair, leaving him sitting on his soaked trousers and with a baby coming now.

A whimper escaped Mark's lips when he felt the head starting to stretch his hole, his ass throbbing painfully as he pushed. The head was applying pressure right to his prostate, every push he gave sent a wave of painful pleasure through his body. 

His eyes squeezed shut and groaned as another contraction hit, his fingers brushing all over the skin of his contracting belly to try to ease some discomfort, but failing miserably. 

The baby was slowly beginning to move, pushing, and Mark was pushing back. His body was telling him to push, but as much as he was doing so, Mark didn't feel the baby move at all.

"God, fuck!" Mark whimpered through another contraction. "C'mon, baby...!"

With a groan, he lifted himself from the floor, his belly hanging naked and so low in front of him now that he couldn't see his knees. With one last heaving effort, Mark pushed through to get himself to a squat. 

His hands reached to grip the armrest of the chair, and Mark pressed his chin hard against his chest as he pushed, his face turning red with effort.

One, two, three times, Mark gritted his teeth as he pushed. The head moved a bit, bringing a burning sensation to his hole as it started to stretch around the head.

"Fuck...fuck...fuck..." he muttered, his fists clenched around the armrest as Mark let out another cry.

His forehead was damp with sweat as he tilted his head back, looking up to the ceiling above him. The baby was right there, about to get to a full crown.

His fingers curled tighter around the armrest as he let out a loud moan, whimpering as he felt the baby's head push against his prostate, and then he pushed again. A gush of amniotic fluid came out of him when the head began making its way to his anus; Mark was completely unprepared. 

He grunted and tensed as he tried to keep his balance, the head pushing out of him, sliding down and stretching his opening with every push. 

Soon, it only took a few more pushes until the whole head was out. Mark threw himself forward to fall on his knees, shaking legs buckling underneath him as he pushed out the rest of the body. 

There was an instant of bliss as Mark closed his eyes for a second, breathing heavily and letting the relief sink in his body.

He lay on his back panting for a moment, the crying baby resting against his agitated chest. 

Well, he should probably call his mother, Mark thought. 

[let-me-fill-you]

💭 Mad scientist who incubates monsters in their womb.

[broodcore]

i wrote birth scene fic about the dwarven omega in this pic. this time i actually wrapped it up instead of awkwardly ending at the end of the birth. (ft. difficult birth; working during labor; the horrors of capitalism)

It had been a mistake on both accounts, but the social faux pas of it was really only going to be felt by one party. For the other, the consequences were much more of a burden. Very literally, in this case.

Some thirty-odd weeks after making one poor choice during a company party, Urwig still had to work through their advanced pregnancy. This wasn’t out of some ‘enduring Omega work ethic’, as their upper-caste foremen might put it; their job simply demanded nothing less. As an Omega, you worked until you dropped. Or, the baby dropped. Urwig had heard of their Omega kint having to keep working the mines well into labor, but they had never seen it in person before. Now, they were likely to experience it first hand.

For the past nine-ish months, Urwig cursed the careless lead-head that got them into this situation. They certainly weren’t going to see them again - the Alpha was a junior supervisor, a role that kept them in the upper echelons of the Hollow, far away from the deep warrens that Urwig’s company strip mined. Doric was young for a supervisor role, and their recklessness was apparent when they tried to hook up with a dusty old miner like Urwig. Most Alphas tried to stay as far away from the lowest caste as possible. But, maybe that taboo made it worth pursuing. Urwig themself was curious; were the statuesque, perfectly hewn Alphas really that impressive once you unbraided their beards?

Turns out, no. Urwig had better flings behind smelter coal piles, amongst their own kint who certainly knew what they were doing. Those never led to them falling pregnant, though; that was the other way around. Even when they took turns, Urwig was the one getting slapped with a child support tax afterwards. This happens sometimes. Some dwarves only carried, some only seeded. If you were lucky, you were only the latter. If you were very unlucky, you could be subject to both.

As an Omega, Urwig was used to being considered unlucky. This was just one more misfortune an Omega was often subjected to: carrying the enormous bastard of an upper-caste.

As a hauler, Urwig already carried half their weight in raw coal up the sloping mineshaft every day, a dozen times in a shift. Lately, they were carrying a whole other half of their body weight alongside the box they shouldered. The Alpha baby was large enough that their stomach jutted out in an exaggerated oblong shape in front of them. As it neared full term, its movements were incessant, squirming about and knocking against their forebear’s ribs and pelvis, crushing their internal organs and sapping the energy from them. Urwig’s efficiency reports had dropped well below what their foremen accounted for their gravidity, penalizing their meager pay. Nevermind that they were an Omega carrying an obvious Alpha, making their pregnancy turbulent at best and high risk at worst. Their company simply didn’t account for such exceptions.

Urwig couldn’t afford to take time off to give birth with these penalties, so they were expected to do what an Omega was meant to do: keep working until they drop. One way or another.

The bastard inside them stretched against the confines of their womb, a tight and uncomfortable sensation that Urwig endured for months now. They already ached out of every moment of the day, so if they were having contractions by now, they wouldn’t notice. It made every new twinge or unexpected cramp come with a jolt of alarm, and Urwig would get yelled at for pausing and obstructing workflow. Eventually, they had to grit their teeth through it. No more occupying their hands by holding their burdensome womb, no more stopping to catch their breath. Work until you drop.

Sweat was absolutely drenching their coarse fur, between their early labors and heat of the mid-level smelters they dropped their load off at. Their first payload of the day, and already it felt like they were pulling double shifts. The kid kicked against their ribs and rammed its enormous head downwards, more so than Urwig was accustomed to. The sudden, throbbing pressure made them stumble back as soon as they unshouldered their box.

As if on cue, they heard one of the foremen watching the procession for slackers like them toot their whistle with warning. The sharp noise made Urwig flinch, their gravid stomach clenching in response. The muscles remained locked in well afterwards, squeezing tighter and knocking the wind out of them. The foreman continued chastising them.

“‘Ay, squeeze out that new worker on your own time, grit-biter! Stop holding up the line!”

Urwig’s kint, their coworkers, did little more than glare at them as they waddled back down the shaft. They too would be penalized for any slip-ups such as having empathy or showing concern for a laboring co-worker, so quietly minding their own business was all they could do. The walk back down wasn’t as bad, at least. Urwig’s hands were free to feel about their taut belly, and assess the shape of it underneath their sweat-streaked fur. It hung low over the loosened belt of their trousers, swaying uncomfortably with each stumbling step. This kid wasn’t going to make it a second lap, was it?

Urwig felt dread creep up on them as they prepared to shoulder a new box of coal. What was once barely anything for the stout omega to lift now looked like solid iron, while they already struggled with the weight inside them. Still, there was no allowance for hesitation. Urwig steeled themself, squatted before the crate, and lifted with their legs.

As the Omega spread their bent thighs, they already felt the dull pain in their cervix worsen. The strain of lifting the coal made it sharpen considerably. Urwig had only held the box halfway when they felt something give, and their waters gushed out of the threadbare crotch of their trousers.

Urwig dropping the crate and moaning from their water breaking made the line pause. The foreman overseeing the pickup end of the lap sounded their whistle. This time, this Beta didn’t chastise them, but rather pointed to the sidelines.

“Take your break, grunt, then get back to work!”

Well, there went Urwig’s chance of having lunch today. Though having a baby was arguably just as important. The line behind them shifted to replace the gap they made as they staggered bowleggedly away.

They didn’t make it very far, as the alarming feeling of their hole bowing outwards against the seat of their pants made the Omega hastily brace themself against a stack of unmoved crates. They dropped to a low squat, their wavering moaning rising in pitch and volume until they cried out in agony. The head alone was too much to bear; their pelvis was being pried open beyond its limits.

One of the foremen had come down from their post to assist. Urwig felt a pang of shame and tried to wave them off, but the huskier Beta still knelt between the Omega's legs.

"This your first'n, grunt?" They asked, genuine concern bleeding over the hardened edge of their authoritative tone. Urwig inhaled a sharp gasp from another contraction wringing the life out of them.

“Y-yeah it’s - it’s the first I’m squeezin’ out.”

The Beta felt the sheer size of the baby within their subordinate, careful not to nick the stretched-thin flesh with their digging claws. “Phew! I do not envy you, gritborn. This’n’s going to be a shift and a half, for sure.”

“Great.” Urwig grumbled flatly. They held onto the crates behind them for leverage against another hard, urgent squeeze of their entire body around their womb.

“Hold on, hold on,” the foreman produced a pocket knife, and carefully cut access to the Omega’s laboring hole out of their pants, to Urwig’s quiet dismay. They were going to have to pay for that, on top of the penalty cuts, and rent, and taxes, and-

“Rrrrrghh!” The head forcing its way through their hips made a temporary, painful reprieve from financial worries. Their hole bulged obscenely under the heavy, swollen cock that didn’t know whether it was experiencing pleasure or pain. Through the searing sensation of their cunt opening up, the Beta’s fingers around the lips struggled to provide relief.

“That’s it, kint. Easy now.” The foreman was the only one who could see the limits to which Urwig was being stretched. Intermittently, their hand applied counterpressure against the Omega’s bulging perineum while slowly, agonizingly, they felt the crown of head slipping out of them.

When a contraction stopped in the middle of pushing out the widest point of the head, Urwig was left to wheeze and sob through the pain. Distantly, they wondered if the sire of their bastard would have had to go through an ordeal like this, had Urwig been the one to knock them up. Realistically, they probably would have already gotten it terminated, regardless of caste. It was the Omegas that were stuck in these situations time and time again, having to endure the consequences of actions in part by higher castes.

The foreman carefully eased the Omega’s stretched-taut lips over the skull, until the pressure released and the head gave way to a splash of fluids. Urwig moaned in tortured relief, bonelessly draped over crates of coal.

“Is it over yet?” They whimpered. Their heart dropped when the more experienced superior just chuckled.

This was definitely an Alpha child, not just by sheer size alone, but by the strength and vigor with which the bastard kicked and squirmed the rest of its way out. It had been so, so eager to get out of its cramped home up until now. The uncooperativeness of the infant brought only more pain, as the Beta had to tug the broad shoulders out of their employee by force. Urwig briefly felt like their pelvis was going to snap in two, before the pressure finally released. The lower half of the infant spilled out of their cunt with a sloppy gush of fluids and a length of the cord.

The newest Alpha of the Hollows squalled, and a few of the workers that had been trying to ignore the scene paused however briefly to admire Urwig’s job well done. A few of the other Omegas - at least one that Urwig had seeded themself - cheered them for their efforts. At least, until another foreman blew their whistle.

The foreman that took precious time out of their shift to aid Urwig didn’t just dump the babe ceremoniously in their lap and go back to work, as was expected. They must have done this before. Maybe they even had to squeeze out kids of their own on the clock. Though fear of being further penalized still lingered in the back of their mind, Urwig was too exhausted and overcome with relief to care. Despite cussing out the kid ever since it started to round out their gut, they felt an incredible sense of pride in taking the child to their chest.

Or, well, they attempted to. Trying to handle a child nearly as big and strong as they were was more of a wrestling match. While they held the kid still for the Beta to cut the cord, the two dwarves noted the clear status of the infant.

“I knew it. I’ll be damned if you were gonna come out full-furred at this size.” It was hard for Urwig to sound as gruff as they were, now that the kid was out of them. True to their forebear’s word, the infant was sparse of fur and small-eared, with a full head of hair and a currently bare chin. A far cry from their furry, unkempt, exhausted looking forebear.

The Beta seemed agog at the markers of a sire far above even their own station. “Sweet guts of the… who in the damn-hell have you been fuckin’ on your downtime, grunt?”

“I’d rather not talk about it, boss.”

“Well, all the same,” the Beta lurched to their feet, wiping their hands, “You should take ‘em up-top and hand ‘em over to an Alpha nursery. Bet they won’t ask questions, if they pass the physical.”

Urwig sighed tiredly at the idea of taking a day’s travel - and a week’s pay of shuttle fare - just to go into the upper city. A certain tug at their heartstrings also made them pause, as silly as it was. Omegas never had time to raise their own progeny, of course, so it was inevitable they would have to give them up to a communal nursery. The ones that allowed visitation cost money, too.

“Ah… I guess I’ll have to. No sense denyin’ the kid their due.”

“‘S hard, I know; my last one was a Delta, I had to pass ‘em over to the guilds for the stipend.” The sympathetic shake of the foreman’s head was cut short by a realization that made their eyes light up. “Hell, you know what? An Alpha nursery’s stipend would probably be a season’s pay, for you.”

All sentimental feelings for the child in their arms left Urwig like ash billowing out of a factory smokestack. “A whole season’s pay, you say…?”

The Beta shrugged with a laugh. “If the sire’s really from up-top, I bet you could even sue for a tax refund on top of that. Have ‘em pay you back for all those lost wages.”

The idea of getting back at the idiot Alpha that did this to them made Urwig’s fur stand on end. The idea of getting paid for it on top of that nearly made them lightheaded with glee. They looked down at their kid in their arms, and practically saw a pile of gold take their place.

“Well hot damn, when’s the next shuttle?”

[nightshadedumplings]

Summary: A woman named Jessica, who was a hot, mean-girl bully in high school, is now massively, heavily pregnant and overdue with quads. At the grocery store, she runs into the woman that she used to bully over her weight, Holly, who proceeds to start teasing her for how fat and pregnant she's gotten. Through a short series of events, Holly ends up at Jessica's house, and continues making fun of her, which escalates into feeding her. She stuffs her until she goes into labor and then continues to tease her all through the delivery.

Contains: pregnancy, weight shaming, humiliation, lactation, nursing, belly movement, stuffing, mild force feeding, Dom/sub dynamics, labor, birth, birth denial, and orgasmic birth.

WC: 6,614

Like my work? Consider commissioning me or leaving a tip!

--

Jessica had put on a ton of weight, as could be expected of someone saddled with four babies in their womb, and her belly was so big and full, people constantly gawked at her when she went out. It was embarrassing, so she avoided it, but that day she had no choice but to go out and get groceries. She was nearly out, and she had some powerful cravings. She had to pull her cart alongside herself as she waddled through the store, babies visibly kicking in her exposed belly. It was summer, and nothing fit over her belly, anyway, so she was stuck in a crop top that was sold as a 4XL in an oversized style, but it fit her more like a bra, if you could say it fit at all, with her massive udders bulging out over both the top and bottom. The denim shorts she had on were huge, even bigger than any of the maternity pairs she had found, but they were tight around her ass, tight enough that it didn't matter that they couldn't be buttoned or zipped at all.

While trying to ignore the stares and finish her shopping as quickly as possible, she heard someone say her name. Whipping around - as fast as she could while weighed down and fattened so much by the squirmy litter she was carrying - she saw someone familiar. It took her a moment before it hit her: this was the girl she used to bully back in school. Holly. Well, the one she bullied the worst.

Her eyes went a little wide at the realization, especially as she took in her transformation. In school, this girl was fat. Really fat. Jessica used to call her things like pig and cow every day, and would sometimes get all of the other girls in the locker room to stare and laugh at her when she changed. Now? She was thin, like, Hollywood or Instagram thin, with a nice round ass and big, perky boobs. The kind of body she had before she got herself ruinously knocked up. Her face and hair were gorgeous, and her body looked even better because of the flattering way her sleeveless blouse and high-waisted floral shorts fit. Self consciously, Jessica shifted on her swollen feet and rubbed the side of her belly where a baby's foot kept kicking her.

"Jessica? Look at you," her former victim said, smiling with vitriol as she strolled right on over. She even had to look down at her a little because of how tall her designer heels were - the kind of heels Jessica couldn't even think about wearing right now; even if she could balance with all that extra mass, her feet were too swollen to fit into anything so slim and delicate like that. The other woman's hands were on her belly, rubbing circles into the top and side of it, making her gasp.

"You're huge. You look like those babies are going to pop right out of you. God, I almost didn't recognize you, you look completely different than you did in school. Remember how skinny you were? You've really blown up, huh?" she carried on, rubbing her belly all over, feeling the babies kick and stretch her overtaxed skin even further.

"I can't imagine being pregnant at all, much less this pregnant. How many do you have in there? Ten?" she asked, finally looking at Jessica for an answer.

Sourly, she attempted to hold back her scowl. "Four," she responded as casually as she could manage, trying not to give this woman the satisfaction of getting under her skin. It didn't seem to be working.

"Four?! Oh my god. Well, no wonder you're such a blimp, you've been pigging out on all these cookies and cakes and stuff," Holly said, grabbing a couple boxes out of her cart to call attention to them before tossing them back in with a smug grin. "Those have to be some really fat babies. Look how fat they're making you. You'll never lose all that baby weight."

"Look, I - it's been good catching up," Jessica cut in, flustered, and with her feet starting to really ache, "but I've really gotta get going."

"Oh, no problem. I'm just finishing up, too, why don't I help you load your stuff?" Holly asked, still grinning as she turned towards the checkout lanes and pulled Jessica's cart with her. With not much choice, she waddled along after her, exasperated.

Holly sped off ahead of her, still dragging her cart, and kept tossing things into it. It was all snack cakes and candy bars, Jessica realized, her jaw dropping. Was she trying to make her get all of that stuff as some sort of joke on her?

By the time she made it to checkout, Holly was already at the register with her debit card out. "I've got it, mommy," she said, winking. Jessica was a little stunned, confused about what the angle was here.

Holly didn't rush off without her this time, probably because she didn't know what Jess's car looked like, she assumed. As they approached it, she gasped, seeing one of her back tires completely flat.

"Oh! That sucks! Well, uh, hey, I could give you a ride," Holly said, suddenly far too friendly and helpful. Maybe Jessica just took her words too hard back in the store and she wasn't really feeling spiteful anymore.

"Um…" Either way, it was that or wait on a bench in the store getting gawked at by everyone who came in and out until AAA showed up. "Okay," she agreed, not too excited about it.

"Great. My car's right here," Holly said, again pulling the cart off in another direction. Thankfully, it wasn't all that far. She opened the passenger side and slid the seat back as far as it'd go, something that made Jessica's cheeks burn with embarrassment. She got in without a word though, failing to hold back a groan as she climbed into the seat. Even moving as lightly as she could, she felt and saw the car shift and sag from her weight. It even groaned and creaked a little.

After getting the address, Holly took off, and started up her chatter again.

"You must be so excited to give birth and take care of all your babies. You're really gonna have your hands full. I don't have any kids, I don't think I ever will. There's too much that I want to do, you know? I'm getting my master's right now. I technically don't even really need it because I've been doing a lot of modeling, but, I'm not gonna do that forever, and it just makes sense to use some of the money I get from it to pay for school so I can do what I really want. I want to travel more, too, and that's so hard when you have kids, especially overseas. I've already been to Europe, but I want to go a lot more." She went on like that for the entire car ride, occasionally asking Jessica a question that felt aimed to humiliate her.

They finally got there, and if she could, Jessica would have hopped out and ran inside, but she was too big and too heavy for any of that. Instead, she had to grunt and groan as she struggled to heave her massively pregnancy-fattened body out of the car. By the time she was flat on both swollen feet and stable, Holly was bringing the last of the bags to her porch. Instead of setting them down, Jessica realized she was just holding them while she went to unlock the door. After that, Holly just walked right in the house.

"Uh… kitchen's over here," Jessica waddled to go and sit on the couch, which had a clear view of the kitchen with the open floor plan so she can keep her eye on Holly, still unsure of what to expect from her. She brought everything in, and even unpacked most of it, putting away all the perishables in the fridge, but for some reason, she left out all of the snacks Jessica got, as well as the ones Holly had been throwing into the cart. Before she could say anything, she was walking over to the couch with a box of chocolate snack cakes under her arm.

"I figured we can have some of these while we hang out." Hang out? Jessica felt embarrassed just looking at Holly and her perfect figure, she didn't want her to stay any longer, staring and judging her baby-filled body. But Holly was already on the couch and handing her a snack cake, which she did buy. Jessica took it without a word, but didn't open it until she saw Holly getting one for herself.

"You must eat a ton of these. I haven't had one in years. They're so bad for you. Really fattening. But I guess you know that," she said with a little laugh, patting Jessica's belly. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, especially when a baby kicked Holly's perfect, slender, manicured hand. "Ooh, I felt a kick! Wow, that's so crazy. I've never felt a pregnant belly before. It's so weird. You just look so big. I never thought I'd see you like this, so fat and stuffed full of babies. I just never really thought of you as a mommy, you know, getting pregnant, carrying babies in your belly while you blow up like a parade balloon, then nursing and changing diapers all day, every day. - Hey, go ahead and finish your snack," she said, smiling.

Jessica felt too humiliated and indebted to say anything, or even argue, so she finished the rest of the snack cake. As soon as she did, Holly took the wrapper and handed her her own, which Jessica just noticed she never took a single bite of. "Go ahead and eat it." There's something firm in the way she said it, and Jessica obliged. "You don't have to take those little bites just for my sake. I don't care. Go ahead and eat 'em in one bite, if you can."

"I," Jessica scoffed, stunned and embarrassed, "I can't do that," she mumbled before finishing it on her second bite. Again, Holly swapped the wrapper for another. "I really don't want mo-"

"It's fine, I already know you eat like a pig." She said it so casually, like the words were meaningless. Jessica was a little surprised, and sat still for a moment, and Holly took the hand holding the cake and moved it closer to her mouth. "Eat, mommy."

Being made to eat fattening cakes in front of Holly was humiliating, but something about the confidence and command in her voice made Jessica comply. Holly ended up giving her the entire box, saying, "Eat all of them," and Jessica did it, one after another, stuffing her face with cake after cake. When she got to the last one, Holly hopped up, returning seconds later with her arms full of all the snacks she'd left out on the counter and dumping them on the coffee table. She picked up a box of twinkies and opened it up, shoving the first unwrapped snack in Jessica's face. "Open up," she said, and again, Jessica couldn't turn her down, opening her mouth and letting Holly shove the whole thing in. She didn't even struggle to chew.

"I knew you could eat them in one bite," Holly laughed, already unwrapping another. As soon as Jessica swallowed, Holly was stuffing another into her mouth. "Mm, that's good, isn't it, mommy?" she asked, rubbing Jessica's active belly. "The babies must like it. I think they're still really hungry, though." Again, she was feeding Jessica another.

Whimpering softly, she kept eating, letting Holly feed her more and more until the box was empty. It wasn't over yet, though, and she was already opening another box and sticking one in Jessica's mouth the moment she swallowed. "Mmph," she moaned quietly in weak protest.

"What's that, Jessie? I can't understand you when your mouth is full. You're such a fat pig, can't you go a second without having any food in your mouth?" A second never did pass without Jessica's mouth being full, with Holly stuffing her with cake after cake. They had already made it through a third box, and she was starting to feel a little full as the next one was opened and another was crammed into her mouth.

"I think you're getting fatter already," Holly teased, still rubbing Jessica's belly in between unwrapping cakes. "Doesn't seem possible, does it? I don't know how you're still walking around, as big as you are. You're as big as a house. I think it really suits you, though, being sooo fat and pregnant." All she responded with was a little whine as Holly relentlessly stuffed more and more into her mouth.

They were four boxes down, and Holly didn't look ready to stop. Jessica groaned as she kept making her eat more and more. "Remember what you called me in high school? Fat cow." It didn't feel like she was reminding her. "Now look. You're fatter than I ever was. And you went and got yourself knocked up with four giant babies. You've even got udders," she said, laughing as she grabbed each of Jessica's tits, as much as she could fit of each in her hands, anyway, and squeezed. Milk immediately soaked her top, dark spots spreading dramatically and making her dark, wide areolae slightly visible through the fabric.

"Oh my god, you're really making milk. I thought that wouldn't happen until after the baby comes. You really are a cow. Keep eating, you need it to make milk for your big, fat babies," Holly said, laughing and smiling while holding Jessica's massive mommy milkers. She let them go all at once, letting them bounce and wobble and leak on top of her belly. Jessica started to protest but Holly shoved the cake in her hand into her mouth. "Uh-uh. You have to keep eating. I want to see how fat you can get. You're already a whale, what's another ten, thirty, fifty pounds, huh? You might as well just get fatter. You'll never lose it all, anyway."

As she talked, Holly unwrapped and fed Jessica another cake, which she scarfed down, despite starting to feel full. Holly then grabbed the bottom hem of Jess's top and lifted it up over her tits, leaving them exposed. "Mmm…!" Jessica tried to protest, but Holly shushed her.

"You're a cow, and cows need to be milked." Suddenly, her mouth was closing over Jessica's areola, latching on and suckling. She gasped, shocked to have Holly suddenly nursing from her, while one hand pumped her other breast, the other rubbing her kicking baby belly. Being milked like an actual cow was humiliating, but Jessica didn't do anything to resist, and instead continued stuffing herself. She knew Holly would just make her if she didn't.

"Mm, mommy likes getting milked, don't you?" Holly asked, briefly breaking her latch before switching to the other teat. Jessica moaned, from the feeling of being suckled at, the food, and her growing fullness, only made worse by her babies and their constant movement. She could swear she could hear her skin straining with every kick. She was so full, it was starting to hurt, but she was onto box six, anyway.

Holly continued nursing for what seemed like a long time, taking breaks to stuff a few more cakes in Jess's mouth when she wasn't eating fast enough, and to tease her.

"Have another, I know you want it, piggy. You really do look fatter already. I think your belly's bigger. It kind of looks like you might have another baby in there." Jessica just groaned, rubbing her belly and eating everything in front of her. The pain in her belly was getting worse, and after finishing off the seventh box, she really tried to refuse another.

"No, please, I'm too full. I'm gonna… I feel like I'm gonna pop if I eat any more," she whined, rubbing both sides of her boulder of a belly.

Holly put on an exaggerated pout and rustled around in the grocery bags on the coffee table. She straightened back up with a box, one that Jessica recognized - "I have donuts," she teased in a singsong voice, taking one out and holding it in front of Jessica's lips. "Oh, we both know your fat-ass isn't really gonna turn it down, so just eat it," she said with more force and intensity, the mirth from moments ago gone. A little startled, Jess quickly complied and started eating. The worst part was, she was right. She was always going to eat it, and then another, and another, until she finished the entire box, just like she was doing then.

Holly grinned as Jessica filled her overstuffed belly even more, and it really did look like she was getting bigger. Satisfied, she leaned back in to drink more from Jessica's watermelon sized milk jugs.

"Ohhh, god," she moaned in between bites. "Mm, my belly. Fuck, I'm really gonna burst." Despite her complaints, Jessica kept eating more and more, already finished with the donuts and moved onto more snack cakes. There were so many boxes, between how much she already had in her cart and all the ones Holly grabbed.

"Good," Holly suddenly broke her latch, leaving both of Jess's udders to drip and leak freely. "Keep eating until you burst. You'd have to be such a fat-ass to eat that much, wouldn't you? I want to see you do it. I know you can, so be a good mommy and eat more. Just keep getting fatter for me. You like being such a whale, don't you? If you're already a blimp, you might as well eat as much as you want, right? No need to worry about how much bigger you'll be after stuffing yourself until your huge mommy belly bursts at the seams." The soft palms of her elegant, long hands glided over Jessica's belly the entire time she spoke.

"Mm, you're definitely bigger already. I wonder how many pounds you'll gain from all this food. Maybe I should be careful with this milk, hm? It's probably so fattening." Her head slowly moved down again, her eyes on Jessie's as she took her udder into her mouth and began suckling firmly, and almost reverently. "Mm," she moaned, briefly closing her eyes in ecstasy and suckling harder and faster, gulping down more and more milk. Jessica groaned and panted, a little overwhelmed by having her teat nursed from so vigorously. Holly's mouth felt like a vacuum pump, making her feel like a cow hooked to a milker.

She didn't let up at all for the longest time, gulping down mouthful after mouthful of milk, until Jessica actually felt like it was starting to empty. With a little milk on her lower lip, Holly grinned at her. "You'd like it if I got fat from your milk, wouldn't you? You want me to let myself get as fat as you so you won't have to be jealous of how hot and thin I am?" She did want that, and she wondered if she might get it when Holly even dove back into drain her other breast.

Now, Jess was starting to groan with nearly every bite, the pain in her belly seeming to subside for a while until it came right back again. She realized it wasn't from how much she was eating, but practice contractions. She'd been having them for weeks and weeks, and just hoped they'd go away soon. And they did, for a while. The realization made her feel relieved, knowing she could eat plenty more, and she was even more embarrassed by the thought.

Holly stopped drinking only for a few seconds to open another box of cakes or a candy wrapper before Jessica could go a moment without her mouth filled. It really did feel like she had somehow gotten even bigger, and she swore she could actually see a difference as her former victim massaged the huge swell and hungrily suckled at her teat.

Another contraction came on, far sooner than Jessie ever would have expected. Despite the pain and her labored groaning, she continued stuffing her face, fully giving into her ravenous cravings. She could tell by the look in her eyes that Holly noticed, and it wasn't hard to tell how pleased she was.

"Good cow. I need a big, blue-ribbon winning dairy cow. Your milk is so sweet, I wouldn't even have to add sugar to my coffee if I put some in first. Too bad it can't be very healthy. I really shouldn't drink any more." She seemed to even mean that.

As she spoke, Holly continued to shove more snacks down Jess's throat, enjoying the promise of making her even bigger. The contractions kept coming, and Jess was getting concerned that this might be real labor. She'd been having them for so long, she didn't even think about how they'd been progressing since the day before. It was seeming more and more like that that was the case, but she really hoped not.

She just kept eating, seeming to be no end to all the snacks Holly bought. By then, Jess could almost swear she could hear her belly stretching as she ate and her babies kicked. Thankfully, Holly had no issue with her taking multiple pee breaks, of which there had been a lot. In fact, she seemed to really enjoy watching Jessica groan and lumber her way to the bathroom, getting slower each and every time.

She wasn't sure how much time has passed, but it must have been a while, because not only had her breasts filled back up with milk, they were becoming painfully full. Holly hadn't been draining them for a while, but Jess had seen her staring at them several times, almost like she was resisting the urge. When milk started to bead and then slowly drip from her nipple, that was when she finally decided to give her her much needed milking, suddenly leaning in and latching tightly, looking into Jess's eyes while she suckled.

As relieved as she was to have her teats milked, the contractions had only gotten worse, and she found herself groaning louder and louder with each one. She could see it getting dark outside, but her husband was away for the weekend. She was totally at Holly's mercy.

"Mm. It's nearly time. I can tell you're just about ready to burst." All Jessica could do was grunt and groan, slowly beginning to get the urge to push and doing everything to resist, all while still stuffing her face.

Holly laughed, pumping both Jess's tits, thick streams spraying from her nipples. She moaned, bearing down just slightly. The baby was so low, then, it felt like it was going to fall out of her. It didn't, but as Holly milked her, she ended up pushing after another minute or so.

"You're so big and round. I bet you'll pop if I just poke your big be-" As she said it, Holly did exactly as she said she was going to, and just as her finger prodded the swollen, tight skin of Jessica's overstuffed mommy belly, she pushed, and her water burst, gushing out and soaking her tight shorts.

"Oh, wow! You actually popped!" Holly sounded so excited, thrilled to have stuffed her full until she burst. "Are you already pushing?" All Jess could do was groan.

"You really ate until you popped. What a good, greedy fat cow. I know those babies are huge in your fat belly. You must really be feeling how big they are, now. I bet you'll be pushing for a good, long while. You need to keep yourself strong." Somehow, she managed to chew and swallow all the snacks Holly stuffed her with.

"Hoohoohoo…!" she panted as a contraction came on, having been given a break from eating during. This time, she pushed hard, squeezing her eyes shut and groaning. The baby was huge, and it was barely moving when she bore down. It felt so big, she wondered if it was possible for the babies to have put on more weight since she'd been sitting here getting fattened until she burst.

"Good. Push, mommy. My good mommy cow, birthing her fat calves and making so much milk for me." Holly nursed from each engorged udder, moaning as she latched.

"Pushssssshhhhh-iiiiinnnnnghhhhh…!" Jessie groaned, pushing as long as she could. Suddenly, she felt Holly's fingers feeling her slit through her soaked shorts.

"Not bulging at all yet, huh? Let's get these off." She tugged down her shorts, helping her shift and lift herself until they were finally down to her ankles and discarded. Holly's fingers immediately found her pussy, two of them sinking inside and making her gasp.

"I can feel the head. It's definitely coming out, but you might be pushing a while. I think I might be able to help, though." With a grin, Holly kept her fingers inside, and began curling them slowly until she found Jess's g-spot, making her cry out in shocked ecstasy.

"Ooh, you like that, mommy? I'll bet you like giving birth, too. You like being a fat, round heifer calving for me. Here, I know you still want more, greedy cow." More cakes were getting stuffed into Jess's mouth, and she couldn't even try to resist, moaning loudly around each mouthful as Holly fingered her. When her next contraction came on, she didn't stop or even slow down, and Jess was groaning loudly, spread legs shaking as she pushed hard and startling pleasure shook her to her core. Fluid squirted and sprayed from her pussy, gushing all over Holly's hand, but she didn't seem to mind at all.

"I knew you'd like it. We'll have to keep you pregnant and fat like this all the time. I want you even bigger, next time. More babies, and I'll make sure you pack on the pounds." Jessica just kept moaning, only getting louder when her contractions came. The baby was moving lower, slowly, but faster than before, since she really couldn't stop pushing now, each time feeling like she was at the brink of an orgasm.

"That's it, keep pushing. It's coming, I can feel it moving down." Holly's fingers didn't slow, and she went back to Jess's tits for more milk. The laboring mother was practically screaming now, pushing hard, overwhelmed to dizzying heights by all of the sensations.

They kept going like that, with Jess pushing and nearly cumming while Holly fingered her and nursed from her huge mommy milkers. Jessica was so distracted, she almost didn't notice when the other woman switched to rubbing her clit, the baby's head now nearing the exit. Holly could feel her beginning to bulge and moaned with her mouth full of tit and calorie-dense milk.

She must have been pushing for over an hour, but Jessica had no solid sense of how much time had actually passed. Holly was rubbing her clit and cupping the head bulging out of her, all while vigorously suckling from her milky udders.

"Ohhh, god, it's... coming... OUT! I'm CROWNIIINNNNGGHHHH...!" Jessie wailed, feeling herself stretch around the head's widest point.

"That's right, your huge, fat baby is coming out of your pussy," Holly broke away to speak, with a little droplet of milk on her lips before she wiped it away on the back of her hand. "God, it's really fucking big. Like you're giving birth to an obese toddler. Of course a whale like you would pop out babies this big. They're probably all gonna weigh, like, twenty-five pounds or something. You know that? You've got a hundred pounds of baby in your huge mommy belly."

As she spoke, Jess's eyes rolled back in ecstasy and she cried out, long and loud, pushing harder than ever as everything in her tensed with the biggest orgasm of her life. The bulbous head burst free between her legs, supported by Holly's hand and accompanied by a rush of fluid that would have soaked everything beneath her if it weren't already from her water breaking. Panting and moaning, she was delirious with sensation, rubbing her belly and pumping her breast while milk sprayed from it.

"Oh my god, you really liked that, didn't you? You actually just came from giving birth? You really are nothing but a breeding cow, aren't you? Don't relax too much, you've still got to push the rest of this monster out." Holly's words made her feel like she might just cum again.

She was right, of course, in that there was hardly any time to relax or recover from that mind-shattering orgasm (interestingly, the best one of her life). Breathing heavily, it felt like she'd had hardly a moment to catch her breath before another contraction was coming on.

"Okay, push, mommy, push. You're calving so good for me, aren't you? Fat, pregnant fucking cow." Jessica groaned lowly, getting louder as she pushed and Holly made fun of her. This was certainly a far cry from her original birth plan. She could feel the shoulders straining against her puffy pussy, stretching her as they tried to force their way through.

"It's coming! It's coming out! Keep pushing!" Holly continued to encourage her. It really wasn't necessary, with no epidural or medication to dull any of her senses, but Jess had to acknowledge at least to herself that it was turning her on to have a running commentary, as well as being ordered around by someone she never thought she'd respect.

"Push! Christ, that's a big fucking baby. Oh my god. How the hell is that even coming out of you? Your fat fucking pussy is never bouncing back from this. I don't think anyone else would even be able to fit this thing inside them, and your fat ass has four of them in your huge fucking whale belly." She just kept going, and Jessie squealed as she felt the wide shoulders finally popped out, and the rest of the baby gushed out right along with them and into Holly's hands.

"Holy shit! I can barely lift this thing up!" She heaved the squalling newborn up to where Jessica could see it, and even she was shocked to see that Holly had hardly been exaggerating; it was a goddamn behemoth. It weighed just as much as it looked like it did, and she briefly thought she wouldn't be able to breath through the rest of her labor as it was laid on her chest. She guided it to her nipple, and it latched far more easily than she'd believed it would.

"Of course your fat-ass baby has no trouble nursing. A lot of women really struggle with it, but you're just a natural dairy cow, aren't you?"

"Ohhh, god, Holly, please..." Jess didn't even know what she was asking for, just that she was overwhelmed with sensation and embarrassment.

"Oh, quit pretending you don't like being my breeding bitch. We're way past that now. You better try and relax while you've got a minute. I don't know when the next one's gonna come." Suddenly, she got up and went to the kitchen, which Jessica only knew because she heard her turning on the faucet. When she returned, she was drying her hands on a hand towel that she tossed aside.

"Giving birth to that gigantic baby probably made you hungry, huh?" she asked, tearing open a snack wrapper and shoving the cake in Jessie's mouth without waiting for a response. Like a good little cow, she opened up and ate it without any issue.

"Good girl." Holly rubbed her belly with one hand while she watched her chew before grabbing the next one. "You've got even more room in there now, don't you? Lot of space to fill up. I want you even fatter the next time."

Holly crammed another cake into her mouth, effectively keeping her from responding. "You're my personal baby factory, now. I'm gonna make sure you're always knocked up, until you're all out of eggs." It made Jessica moan, and Holly grinned, knowing she liked that.

"All those big aspirations you had, and now you're happy just to pump out babies constantly for the rest of your life. You might as well be the best breeder you can." She watched the laboring mother's pussy gush and laughed.

"Fuuuck... oh, god, it's gonna come...! I'm having another babyyyy...!" Jessica gasped, her belly contracting hard and forcing her to bear down.

"That's right, you're just squeezing 'em out, one after the other, aren't you?" The teasing made Jessica groan loudly as she pushed, and her second water broke all over the couch. Holly reached and felt inside of her, surprised at what she found.

"Oh, wow, it's already really low. I can feel the head." Her fingers slid back out and she splayed her hand on Jess's massive, kicking underbelly. She felt the muscles tightening under her hand from the contraction, while Jessica moaned loudly from the other side of her pregnant mass and pushed.

"It's coming really fast, this time. You're already starting to bulge... yeah, you're spreading really good. God, this one's just as huge, but you're such a good, fat birthing cow, it's not a problem, huh?"

All she could do was push and moan. Holly watched as her vagina stretched around the head and she started to crown.

"Holy shit, you're already crowning! The head's almost out!"

Jess panted as the contraction subsided. "Hoohoohoohoo...!" The baby on her breast was still suckling, and she wondered if she'd have to feed all four so much that she'd always have two attached to her milky teats.

Soon, she was pushing again, her voice raising into a shout as the giant head squeezed through her canal before coming out with a splash.

"There it is, mommy," Holly cooed, patting Jess's belly condescendingly while she supported the head. "This thing's the size of a grapefruit. The rest has to be as big as a turkey. Just breathe, then you're gonna push that fat baby out of your wet mommy cunt."

The description was apt, her pussy gushing between pushes. "Oh... ohhh... OHHHHH, it's coming NOOOOOOWWW...!" she screamed, bearing down hard. It felt like her body was a machine doing exactly what it was designed to do, automatically and without thought. It seemed she really was a baby factory.

The second toddler sized baby flopped out of her and into Holly's ready arms, who then laid it on Jessie's chest. This one, too, found her milky udder almost immediately, only crying for seconds before it was suckling.

"Just like a mama sow nursing her fat piglets," Holly giggled.

Jessica looked down at herself, the image as unbelievable as the one she'd been seeing for nearly a year. Instead of just seeing her enormous, kicking belly, she saw her slightly smaller, but still absurdly distended, belly with two monster sized babies feeding at her huge cow tits.

Suddenly, Holly was disappearing behind her huge baby-stuffed gut, ducking down. Before Jess could ask what she was doing, she was gasping as she felt the other woman's hot, wet mouth on her clit. First she licked it, and then she was sucking it relentlessly while Jessica writhed and screamed. Her birthing cunt was practically spraying from how wet she was getting, the intensity almost unbearable as she labored and nursed at the same time.

"OH! OHHH, GOD, HOLLYYYY...! HOOOOHHH, IT'S-... I'M-... COMIIIIIINNNNGGGHHHHH...!" she wailed, a massive flood of amniotic fluid bursting from her pussy as the third baby barreled through her cervix and she had the most intense orgasm of her life. Her womb contracted hard and she bore down with it, feeling the baby move lower. But even then, Holly didn't stop. Jess felt her fingers in her cunt, monitoring her progress, all while sucking her clit as vigorously as the babies suckled from her engorged udders.

"AAAHHHH, GOD, TOO... MUCH! FUUUUCK, I'M... CUMMING IT... OUUUUUT!" she shrieked, already building up to another orgasm and unable to stop pushing. She could feel her third baby beginning to bulge out, and Holly's hand stayed on the widening slit. She was birthing faster than before, even faster than she realized was even possible, which seemed ridiculous given the size of her overdue brood.

As the second orgasm wracked her body, Jessie felt the baby crowning before the bulbous head popped out of her. She'd assumed that Holly would stop, then, but her mouth stayed latched to her swollen clit while her hand supported the head hanging out of Jess's laboring pussy. She didn't think she could handle it, and she writhed and squirmed her hips while screaming out her fat brat.

"OHHHHHHH, I'M HAVING IIIIIIT...! YOU'RE... MAKING ME... BIIIIIIRTH!" she screamed as she pushed the wide shoulders from her body, her cunt spasming and spraying fluids with her orgasm and Holly finally stopped as she caught the baby.

"Holy shit. You pushed this one out so fast. And you came, like, three or four times," Holly laughed, wiping her face, which had been soaked in Jessie's fluids. "Talk about a fucking squirter. Such a breeding slut, cumming and giving birth like that. Let's see how fast we can get this last one out. Ooh, and it wants out bad. It's really kicking, huh?" she teased, rubbing her squirmy belly before laying the crying newborn on top of it.

Jess really looked like the definition of a breeding slut, with three newborns on her while a fourth kicked inside of her. Even with just one left, she looked like she was still carrying twins.

She hardly had a moment to catch her breath or even regain her ability to form coherent thoughts before Holly was back to mouthing her oversensitive clit, making the laboring mommy scream from the overstimulation and pleasure. She pushed and her fourth water broke immediately, the last baby forcing its way through her battered cervix. Despite the discomfort and pain, she was already cumming, the intensity of it making her push even harder. This one was coming even quicker than the last, already filling her stretched birth canal and bulging her swollen pussy.

Holly didn't let up for a moment, moaning with Jess's clit in her mouth as she sucked. Jessica panted and groaned loudly, her groans quickly turning back into screams as yet another orgasm built inside of her. She pushed again, still screaming, her muscles clenching hard and forcing the massive head through her cunt. Still cumming and pushing, the wide shoulders followed behind, and she birthed the last of her litter in one long push.

Her hair clung to her forehead from the sweat, and Jessica felt like she was gasping for air, as though she'd just come up from being held underwater. Holly was sitting fully upright, grinning at her from between her still spread legs and holding the gigantic, screaming baby in her arms.

"Four fat-ass babies on your first go... I think we can beat that." Jess's eyes widened and her cheeks flushed, but worse than the humiliation and fear the thought of getting even more pregnant gave her was how much it turned her on. She knew Holly wasn't just teasing her, but that she was making her a promise. Her belly would be swollen and heavy again very, very soon.

[mpregxiled]

Full Moon Fatherhood, FINALE

This one's the longest chapter yet.

Jerome rushed down the stairs, keeping a close eye on the outside world. He was clad in sandals, baggy jeans, and an oversized t-shirt. He darted into the living room and up to the large nest of blankets and pillows that Max had constructed. He kneeled, giving his husband a passionate kiss. 

“I’ll see you in the morning, I promise.” He planted one last kiss on the belly and then turned to Marlene. “If anything happens, you know what to do.’

“Absolutely.”

With that, Jerome said his farewells for the night and went out the door, driving away to his aunt’s mansion.

“How are you holding up?” Marlene asked, getting on her knees and stroking the stressed father’s active belly with both hands.

“They’re already starting to stir…” Max said, a quiver in his voice.

“I’m with you all the way on this,” Said Marlene as she looked out the door. She looked out the window yet again. It was a rich orange now, the black of night was about to set in.

“Get ready…”

Max began to groan, his belly becoming deathly still. “Ow…”

Marlene continued rubbing his belly, and feeling the skin of it slowly start to stretch. 

“It’ll be alright, Max… Nothing we haven’t gone through before…”

Max cringed again as his belly swelled, slightly but noticeably.

“Here we go…”

The evening turned to night quickly, and with little ceremony. As the moon began to glow Max began to scream, his belly swelling rapidly under its light. He clung to Marlene, his stretch marks practically doubling in size and becoming extremely dark, his belly now becoming almost as big as he was, as the now-transformed pups began to thrash with a new sort of violent energy. Marlene desperately tried to calm both Max and his brood down, stroking deeply while muttering sweet nothings. As she did so, though, she felt his belly tense up in a way it hadn’t on previous visits.

“Shit…” said both the witch and the laboring man, if with very different tones. For the former, it was a sound of realization– This was not, in fact, going to be a normal night for either of them. For the latter, it was a growl– A scream of pain as he bent in on himself, his entire body blazing with pain as it bore down on his overtaxed womb. The litter only increased their assault, fighting against the cramp and only bringing their father more agony. Marlene found herself at a loss. She foolishly hadn’t prepared for full-on labor, expecting that to start after the sun rose again. As the contraction subsided, Marlene rubbed the back of Max’s neck, moving in close to him and stroking his sweaty, hot, writhing belly with her other hand. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t find this all very hot, but she could worry about all of that later.

“God, I wish Jerome was here…” Max sobbed.

“I know, honey, I know…” Marlene said as she embraced him. “Don’t panic… When the next contraction rolls around, I want you to take deep breaths. I’ll go get you a nice warm rag, OK?”

Max nodded, his breath ragged as tears started streaming down his face. As Marlene left for the kitchen, another contraction caught him off guard, but the breathing exercises helped a little bit. Months of classes and birth coaching, but none of it could of prepared him for the actual experience. The labor pains so far had been short, yet strong. He feared how the rest of this long night was going to go, and barely registered Marlene coming back. She placed a small rag upon his forehead, and a much larger one upon his belly. The warmth felt good on his raging stretch marks, even as the brood protested. 

“So sore…” he groaned, stroking the side of his belly. It was tight against his hand, even without the contractions. He asked Marlene what the time was.

“It’s 7:30. Your contractions aren’t too far apart… Have you been laboring all day?”

“No, I…unf! Ow!... I…” Max desperately tried to answer the question as another cramp struck him, causing his mind to blank from pain. Marlene came to his side, assisting him through it as best she could before it subsided again.

“That one was five minutes…” she remarked. “They’re getting longer. But with how strained you are, I don’t think it’ll hurt much more than this!” she said, desperately trying to find a silver lining. “Can you scooch a little? I should probably check your dilation.”

“M-hm” Max said, “If you’ll help me…”

Marlene obliged, lifting up his considerable belly with all the strength she could muster while he dragged himself forward. She could feel another contraction begin, and see the muscles of his belly tighten beneath his skin. She moved back as Max’s bent legs took the brunt of his belly, pulled his pants down, and looked between his legs. She looked over to him with a somewhat pained look on her face. 

“I’m sorry, Papa,” she said, tenderly massaging the sides of his aching belly, “We’ve still got a good ways to go I’m afraid…”

“You know,” Max mutterd, “I was expecting this to be a lot worse… They don’t really feel like they’ve been getting worse…” He arched his back and clenched his teeth as another contraction hit, riding it out through shaky breaths. “I want to get up…” he moaned after it passed.

“Are… are you sure?”

“My legs are falling asleep…”

“...okay, I’ll help you up…”

Marlene stopped for a moment, sizing up the situation. She stuck out her hands, which Max took, and hefted him into a sort of squatting position. If he opened his legs a little, his belly would touch the ground. Max dug his nails into Marlene’s arms as another contraction hit, and she struggled to stop him from falling back over. After that, too, passed, she went behind him and hoisted him to his feet, making sure Max could keep his balance. His belly was extremely low, and his entire body was covered in sweat. Marlene noticed that his body hair seemed to have become thicker, too.

“These kids feel like they’re gonna fall out of me…” he moaned, stroking his active belly. “I’m so hungry, too… Lena, could you give me some of those cookies?” he asked, looking towards the box still on the table. He stumbled towards her, his body not used to his new weight distribution, and the crushing weight on his pelvis. It was clear to Marlene that now that he was up, there was very little that was going to get him back down. He wolfed down the entire bag of cookies, which only seemed to rile up the babies more, then made his way to the kitchen to fetch himself a glass of water, being carefully monitored by Marlene the entire time. He stopped for a moment, bracing himself against the dining table as another contraction hit. She could see his belly lift itself up, shrinking slightly as the muscles compressed. Max reacted to this less with a groan of pain and more with a growl of frustration- even as they became slightly worse, Marlene could tell that he was getting more prepared for them. This routine would go on  for a few more hours. At a few points, he even tried to lay down on the couch and go to sleep, much to Marlene’s dismay, but the contractions were too bad for him to get any rest, and he would get back up again. 

Marlene was in the bathroom around midnight, washing her hands when she heard Max scream and then a loud thud. She rushed out to the living room to find Max curled up on the living room carpet, his belly sticking straight up the air as his entire body seemed to brace itself. He was pale as a sheet, and Marlene did her best to comfort him. She checked the clock- It was midnight exactly, and the moon was at its most powerful. She chided herself for not realizing that sooner, but also hoped that this would be the worst of it. 

“What happened” she asked, pulling a small jar from her pocket.

“I… I…I was coming back here to sit down, and… ahg!” Max bore down again as another contraction hit. Marlene could hear his breathing go shallow with this one, and he fell unconscious.

“Max! MAX!” she screamed. His belly was still active, but his pulse was faint. She unscrewed the lid of the jar and held it under Max’s nose, causing his eyes to flutter back open. He met Marlene’s gaze, the glow of her opal eyes emphasizing the sparkling tears trailing down her face.

“I need you to stay with me…” she said, her voice hollow. She cleared her throat and regained her composure, but her voice was still shaky. “This is a topical anaesthetic I made, I’m going to apply it to you now. It’s gonna be a little cold, okay?”

“...ok…” Max wheezed as he struggled to maintain lucidity. He was in so much pain… Even when he wasn’t having a contraction, everything was so sore. Marlene’s hands provided such relief, the cold paste numbing his raging stretch marks and overworked muscles. Marlene took pride in her bedside manner, but it would be dishonest to say that she didn’t also enjoy having complete and unfettered access to a handsome young man’s pregnant belly. She made sure to savor the experience, rubbing her herbal concoction into every nook and cranny of it, especially when another contraction tightened it. 

“Is it working?” she asked Max, looking over to see that he was in fact still awake, and even that some color had returned to his face. 

“I… erg… I think…” he muttered.

Marlene’s mood brightened a bit, but she knew she shouldn’t breathe her sighs of relief just yet. She checked between his legs again- He was pretty far along, but just where she expected him to be. In between his rapidly increasing contractions, Max and Marlene slowly made their way back to the nest of pillows. Marlene tried to stay ahead of Max’s labor with every trick she had, exhausting her arsenal of creams, tonics, tinctures and techniques- It was enough, at least, to keep Max conscious and stable through the long, sleepless night. As it dragged on, Max’s contractions got that much closer, that much worse, and time seemed to melt away in the stress of everything. It was about 5 in the morning when Marlene felt Max purposefully bear down on himself. 

“Max?” Marlene asked, peaking over to him.

“I gotta… I gotta push, it’s so low…” Max replied, deliriously  rambling to himself.

“Max, they haven’t shifted back yet, and your water hasn’t broken, you know you can’t…” She tried to comfort him as she looked out the window, seeing a glance of orange on the horizon. “Just a little longer, I promise…”

“I…I-I’ve gotta…” Max cried, struggling as another especially harsh contraction brought another urge. He pulled Marlene towards him and clung close as it hit, whimpering to him as Marlene comforted him. His belly basically rested on her lap, and she felt another contradiction come on- this one accompanied by a telltale wetness as the sun peeked through the window. As she recoiled, she saw his belly deflate, returning to its normal size as the children returned to their human forms. Max breathed a sigh of relief as the contraction ended, and much of his pain subsided– right before another one started, causing him to scream as the first child made its way unobstructed to his birth canal. 

“Max, I know you want to push, but we’re gonna have to keep these kids in you for just a few more minutes. Do you think you can do that?”

Max responded only with grunts as his instincts put him on autopilot. He pushed again, much to Marlene’s chagrin. “Please get here soon…” she mentally asked Jerome. She checked the clock again: If she knew Jerome, she knew he would be hurrying- He’d be here in 10 minutes or so. Max’s breathing was shallow, and rushed, but it looked as though the contraction had passed. 

“I need you to NOT push next time, please!”

“S…Sorry…” Max groaned.

“Jerome should be here soon, just hold out a little more.”

“O–ergh-OK!” Max squeaked out as the next wave of pain hit him.

The next few minutes felt longer than the entire night to Marlene, but the tension broke when the front door opened and Jerome came back, looking only slightly worse for wear.

“You’re just in time,” Marlene said, “His water broke, we need to get him in the car ASAP.”

Jerome simply nodded in understanding. He looked a little worse for wear, but he rushed to his husband’s side immediately, and hefted him bridal-style in his arms, trying hard not to collapse under Max’s considerable weight as he hustled to the best of his ability out the door, Marlene trailing close behind. “You two pile in here, I’ll drive!” she barked as she threw open the back doors. Jerome gingerly set his laboring husband down in the car, passing his keys to Marlene in the front seat as he buckled his and Max’s seatbelts. Max clawed into his thigh as another contraction hit, and Jerome stroked his hard belly and the back of his head as the car got moving. The drive to the hospital was blessedly short, but even with that, Max was almost crowning by the time they reached there. Marlene rushed inside, and came out not a moment too soon with a wheelchair and a nurse at hand. Jerome piled Max onto it, and the trio made their way back in, stressed with anticipation at this bold next chapter of their lives.

[jsshdge]

Carnal Royal Birth

The afternoon sun, mellow and golden, streamed through the tall, arched windows of our chambers, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air like tiny, shimmering fairies. I stood before the polished silver mirror, my gaze fixed on my reflection. My hands, surprisingly delicate against the vast expanse, smoothed fragrant lavender oil over my distended belly. Forty-one weeks. Forty-one weeks of carrying this beautiful, monumental secret.

My husband, Prince Alaric, often joked that our babe was destined to be a giant. And he wasn't wrong. This child, our child, was going to be massive. Every stretch, every rumble, every powerful kick told me so. My usually slender frame was now a testament to impending motherhood, a grand canvas of life within. My breasts, full and heavy, rested atop the curve of my belly, and my navel, once a shy indentation, now proudly poked outwards, a tiny, firm beacon.

A shiver, part anticipation, part apprehension, traced its way down my spine. Alaric… he found this all so captivating. Our shared secret, our particular fondness for the journey of life-making, meant he adored my pregnant form, and even more so, the idea of birth. For him, it was the ultimate act of creation, a testament to strength and love. He saw the beauty in the raw, primal power of it all.

For me, it was… complicated. The "birth kink," as some would call it, certainly played its part. There was an undeniable thrill, a deep-seated excitement, at the thought of truly experiencing this ancient rite. To feel my body transform, to push and bring forth new life, it was a profound yearning within me. Yet, beneath that excitement, a tremor of fear always lurked. This baby was so big. What if I wasn't strong enough? What if the pain was too much? What if…

"Lost in thought, my love?"

Alaric’s voice, deep and resonant, pulled me from my reverie. I met his gaze in the mirror, a smile blooming on my face as he approached. He was indeed dashing; twenty-one years old, a towering figure of muscle and grace. His broad shoulders and strong arms were a comforting presence, and his kind, intelligent eyes always held a warmth just for me. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his large hands resting gently on my belly.

"Just admiring the view, my prince," I murmured, leaning back into his solid embrace. His scent – leather, fresh air, and something uniquely Alaric – filled my senses.

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to my temple. "And a magnificent view it is, my princess. Our little warrior is certainly making his presence known." His hand stroked the taut skin, eliciting a powerful kick that made me gasp.

"He certainly is," I breathed, my heart quickening. "He feels… immense, Alaric. Truly immense."

He tilted his head, his smile unwavering. "All the better! A strong king for a strong kingdom. You'll deliver him beautifully, Elara. You are strong."

I turned in his arms, resting my head against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. "I want to believe that," I confessed, my voice barely a whisper. "Part of me is so eager, so ready to meet him, to feel the power of it all. But then… the other part worries. He's so big, Alaric. What if I can't do it?"

He pulled back slightly, cupping my face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking my cheeks. His eyes, usually so playful, were now serious, full of unwavering belief. "Elara, look at you. You have carried him for all these months, nurtured him, grown him. Your body is a marvel. It knows what to do. And I will be right here, every moment, holding your hand, whispering encouragement. You are not alone in this."

He lowered his head, his lips brushing against my belly. "And besides," he whispered, his voice rumbling against my skin, "think of the glory of it, my brave queen. The challenge, the triumph. It will be an epic story, told for generations." He winked, and a nervous giggle escaped me.

"You and your epic stories," I teased, but a warmth spread through me. He had a way of making even my deepest fears feel conquerable.

"It is true," he insisted, his gaze locking with mine. "This child is a testament to our love, Elara. And his arrival will be just as extraordinary. Just imagine… the pain, yes, but then the relief, the joy, the incredible sense of accomplishment. And you, my beautiful wife, will be at the very center of it all, a goddess bringing forth life."

He leaned in, his lips finding mine in a tender, lingering kiss. My hands found their way to his strong neck, pulling him closer. In his arms, surrounded by the golden light of our chambers, with the rhythmic thrum of our baby within, I felt a familiar flicker of excitement ignite, pushing back against the lingering fear. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps this journey, with all its challenges, would indeed be epic. And perhaps, just perhaps, I was more ready than I thought.

"I think," I said, pulling away slightly, "I feel another little ache. Low and slow."

Alaric's eyes lit up, a mischievous glint in their depths. "Ah, the prologue begins.” 

I smiled, my hand instinctively going to my belly as another, stronger ache bloomed. “Let us see what our little warrior has in store for us."

I took a deep breath, the scent of lavender and Alaric surrounding me. The fear was still there, a tiny knot in my stomach, but the excitement, the profound, exhilarating anticipation, was growing stronger. This was it. The grand adventure was about to begin.

As Alaric’s hand remained flat against the taut, oiled surface of my stomach, a sudden, sharp heat flared deep within my pelvis—separate from the dull ache of the contractions. His palm was so broad, so impossibly warm, that it seemed to radiate through my skin and into my very core. The contrast of his rugged, masculine strength against the vulnerability of my overstretched body made my breath hitch.

I looked up at him, my pupils dilating. "Alaric," I whispered, his name feeling like a prayer.

I reached down, my fingers finding the heavy embroidery of his tunic. I didn't just touch him; I gripped the fabric, pulling him closer until there was no air between us. My heart was hammering against my ribs, a wild bird trapped in a cage. I began to caress him through his clothes, my touch bold and demanding. I wanted to feel the heat of his skin, the hard planes of his muscles that always made me feel so small and cherished.

"Undress," I urged, my voice dropping an octave, thick with a need that surprised even me. "I want to feel you. All of you. Now."

He didn't need to be told twice. His eyes darkened, a predatory hunger meeting my own. With a swiftness that belied his size, he shed his garments, his boots thudding softly on the rushes. I let my own silk robe slip from my shoulders, pooling at my feet.

There we stood, the sunlight painting our skin in hues of amber and gold. I felt magnificent and primal. My belly was a great, proud curve between us, shimmering with the lavender oil, and my breasts felt swollen and sensitive, aching for his touch.

When he stepped back into me, the contact was electric. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling his head down for a kiss that was less a greeting and more a claim. It was desperate and deep, tasting of honeyed wine and raw desire.

I began to move against him, purposefully rubbing the massive, firm dome of my belly against his hard, flat abdomen. I wanted him to feel every inch of the child we had made—to feel the sheer scale of my body’s transformation.

"Do you feel how much I'm carrying for you?" I groaned into his mouth, tilting my hips to increase the pressure. "He’s so heavy, Alaric. He’s pushing so hard."

"I feel it, Elara," he growled, his hands sliding down to grip my hips, holding me steady as I swayed against him. "You’re incredible. You’re bursting with life."

The sensation of his skin against my oiled belly was intoxicating. Every time I rubbed against him, a fresh wave of arousal washed over me, mingling with the tightening of my womb. The fear of the coming birth hadn't vanished, but it had been transformed into a dark, driving energy. I wanted this passion to escalate; I wanted to be overwhelmed by him before the storm of labor truly broke over us.

I leaned back, my hair spilling over my shoulders, and guided his hand back to where the pressure was greatest, right at the peak of my navel. "Don't stop," I pleaded, my eyes fluttering shut. "I want to feel everything."

The walk to the sprawling, fur-lined bed was a slow, deliberate torture. I refused to let go of him, my hand sliding down his muscular arm to find his fingers, interlacing them tightly. As we moved, I stole a glance downward. Even in my haze of desire and mounting physical pressure, I was struck by him. He was magnificently, impressively aroused—a stark, rigid testament to how much my transformed body moved him. Seeing him like that, so ready and so fierce, sent a fresh jolt of lightning through my loins.

"Look at what you do to me, Elara," he rasped, noticing my gaze. "Even now, perhaps especially now, I have never wanted you more."

We reached the edge of the high mattress. The velvet hangings were pulled back, inviting us into the shadows. The transition from the standing position brought a sudden, heavy thrum of a contraction, and I leaned into the bedpost for a moment, my breath coming in short, rhythmic huffs.

"Easy, my love," Alaric whispered, his large hand supporting the small of my back.

"I’m fine," I managed, a wild, playful smile breaking through the grimace of the ache. "In fact, I’m better than fine."

I turned to him, placing my hands on his broad, scarred chest and pushing gently. "Lie down, Alaric. On your back. I want you right there."

He obeyed, his massive frame sinking into the soft linens, his head resting against the silk-covered pillows. He looked like a fallen god, his skin bronzed and his muscles twitching with restrained energy. I stood over him for a moment, a queen surveying her most precious prize. My belly felt like a heavy, warm weight, a sun around which my whole world orbited.

I knelt on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight. Moving with a grace that felt ancient and primal, I crawled toward him. The lavender oil made my skin slide deliciously against the sheets.

I reached the center of his strength, looking up at him through my lashes. His breath was shallow, his hands gripping the blankets at his sides. I lowered my head, my hair draping over his thighs like a golden curtain, and began to use my mouth on him.

I wanted to show him my devotion, to feel his pulse thrumming against my tongue while my own body pulsed with the beginning of labor. The contrast was intoxicating—the taste of him, the hardness of his body, and the incredible, heavy fullness of the child between us.

He let out a low, guttural groan, his hips lifting slightly off the bed. "Elara... gods, you’re going to drive me mad."

I didn't stop. I wanted to push him to the very edge, to hear him lose that royal composure. Every time my belly brushed against his legs, I felt the baby kick—a rhythmic, powerful thud that seemed to sync with the pounding of my heart. I was a vessel of life and a woman of fire, and in this moment, the fear of the massive child was eclipsed by the sheer, beautiful intensity of the man before me.

I felt Alaric’s large, calloused hands find my hair, his fingers threading through the damp, golden strands as his breath hitched. He couldn't stay still for long; the man was a force of nature, and my adoration of him had clearly pushed him to his limit. With a gentle but firm strength, he reached down and hooked his arms under my armpits, lifting my heavy frame upward until I was positioned over him, my knees flanking his hips.

"My turn, Elara," he growled, his voice a low vibration that I felt in my very bones. "My brave, beautiful girl."

He didn't pull me down to his mouth immediately. Instead, he took a moment to worship the form I was so self-conscious of. His hands, wide enough to cover nearly half my torso, moved to my bosom. My breasts were heavy, the skin stretched thin and marbled with faint blue veins, the nipples dark and incredibly sensitive. As he cupped them, squeezing gently and then tracing the undersides with his thumbs, a sharp, sweet ache shot straight to my womb.

"You are so full," he whispered, his eyes dark with wonder. "Every part of you is ripening, preparing."

He leaned up, taking one peaked nipple into his mouth, suckling with a rhythmic intensity that made my toes curl into the furs. At the same time, his other hand descended to my belly. He didn't just touch it; he explored it. He traced the protrusion of my navel, circling it with a fingertip before spreading his palm wide across the very top of the curve, right beneath my ribs where the baby’s feet often pushed.

I let out a long, shaky moan, my head falling back as I arched my spine. The sensation of his mouth on my breast and his warm, heavy hand on the mountain of my stomach was almost too much to bear. I felt a contraction begin to build—a slow, tightening wave that started in my lower back and wrapped around to the front.

"Alaric," I gasped, my fingers digging into his shoulders. "It's tightening... feel it..."

He didn't pull away. Instead, he pressed his palm firmer against the distended skin, witnessing the way my muscles hardened like stone beneath his touch. He watched my face, his expression a mix of fierce protection and intense arousal. He loved the power of it, the raw evidence of my body working to bring his heir into the world.

"I feel it," he murmured against my skin, his breath hot. "Stay with me, Elara. Breathe through it."

As the contraction peaked and then slowly began to ebb, he shifted his focus downward. He began to trail wet, lingering kisses down the center of my belly, following the dark line that led toward my groin. He moved slowly, his tongue darting out to taste the salt and the lavender oil on my skin. When he reached the lower curve, where the weight of the massive babe pressed hardest against my pelvis, he paused, humming low against me. The vibration sent shivers through my entire frame.

He moved his hands to my inner thighs, pushing them wider, his touch insistent. "I want to see how ready you are," he whispered.

He lowered his head further, his beard grazing my sensitive skin, and began to reciprocate with a devotion that left me breathless. His tongue was a flame, flickering against my most sensitive parts, while his hands remained anchored on my belly, feeling the internal shifts and the baby's occasional, heavy shuffles.

I was lost in a sea of sensation—the primal urge of the labor beginning to pulse through me, and the overwhelming, exquisite pleasure he was providing. I reached down, my hands finding his hair, guiding him, my hips moving in a slow, desperate circle. My belly felt like a Great Sun, heavy and radiant, the center of our shared universe.

"Please," I sobbed out, the word a mixture of a plea for release and a cry of anticipation for the birth. "Alaric, I'm... I'm so close. To everything."

He looked up at me, his face glistening, a look of pure, unadulterated love and hunger on his features. "We are doing this together, Elara. Just you and I. I have you. I will not let go."

He returned to his task with renewed vigor, his fingers now dancing over my belly in sync with the movements of his mouth, drawing out every spark of pleasure until the room seemed to dissolve into a haze of gold and shadow. I felt the next contraction starting, stronger this time, but I didn't pull away. I leaned into it, welcoming the storm, fueled by the fire he had lit within me.

The air in the bedchamber had grown thick, heavy with the scent of lavender oil, salt, and the raw, musky scent of our shared desire. My skin was slick, vibrating with a dual intensity—the rhythmic tightening of my womb and the frantic, mounting hunger for the man beneath me. I looked down at Alaric, his chest heaving, his muscles rippling like the sea under the golden candlelight.

"Alaric," I breathed, my voice trembling with a desperate, primal need. "Enough of the gentle worship. I need to feel you. I need you inside me, now, before the babe claims all of my strength."

A dark, knowing smirk spread across his handsome face. He loved my boldness, the way the impending birth seemed to strip away my royal reserve and leave only the woman. Without a word, he reached up, his large, calloused hands wrapping firmly around my ankles. With a slow, deliberate movement, he pushed my legs back and wide, exposing my vulnerability to the cool air and his scorching gaze.

"You’re so wide, Elara," he rasped, his eyes fixed on the junction of my thighs. "Stretched and ready for our son, yet still so tight for me."

He positioned himself, his massive member gleaming in the light as it pressed against me. He didn't rush. He lingered at the threshold, teasing the sensitive skin, until I let out a frustrated moan and gripped his shoulders, my nails sinking into his skin.

"Please, Alaric... take me. Rougher. I want to feel the weight of you."

He obeyed. He sank into me slowly, an agonizingly deep intrusion that seemed to fill every corner of my being. I felt the immense pressure of him competing with the internal pressure of the baby, the two forces meeting in the center of my body. It was a glorious, overwhelming fullness. I threw my head back, a long, shaky cry escaping my lips as he finally seated himself completely.

He paused for a heartbeat, letting me adjust to his size, his hands moving from my ankles to grip the heavy curve of my hips. Then, he began to move.

It started as a slow, rhythmic grind—a deep, soul-stirring friction. But as I egged him on, whispering words of encouragement and desire, the tempo began to shift. I reached down, my palms flat against the hard, shimmering dome of my belly. As he thrust into me, I rubbed the distended skin, feeling the babe's solid weight shift in response to the movement.

"Yes, just like that," I gasped, my breath coming in short, ragged bursts. "Feel him, Alaric! Feel how he’s dropping. He’s so big... he’s going to stretch me just like you are. Harder! Give me your strength so I can give it to him!"

My words seemed to unleash something feral within him. His thrusts became more powerful, more insistent. The bed groaned under his weight as he hammered against me with a beautiful, controlled roughness. Each impact sent a shockwave through my belly, mingling with the escalating ripples of my contractions. It was a chaotic, magnificent symphony of life and lust.

"I'm going to fill you one last time," he growled, his voice a guttural rumble near my ear. He leaned forward, pinning my arms above my head with one hand while the other returned to my stomach, his fingers splayed wide as if trying to grasp the child through the skin. "I'm going to make you forget the pain before it even starts."

"Don't make me forget," I countered, my voice rising in a crescendo of pleasure. "Make me feel it all! I want to feel the stretch, the burn, the power of you and the power of him! He's coming, Alaric... I can feel his head pressing down with every time you hit me... Oh gods, yes!"

I was spiraling, lost in the sensation of his huge member filling me and the massive child within me preparing to follow. The roughness of his lovemaking was a grounding force, a way to claim my body back for myself even as it belonged to the process of birth. I arched my back, my belly thrusting upward toward the ceiling, a shimmering monument to our passion and our future.

He was relentless now, his breath hot and ragged against my neck, his movements becoming faster, more desperate. I met every thrust with a frantic tilt of my pelvis, my internal muscles clenching around him in a rhythmic pulse that mirrored the tightening of my womb. The world narrowed down to the heat between our bodies, the scent of the oils, and the incredible, heavy promise of the life that was only hours away from breathing the castle air.

"Alaric! Now! Give it to me now!" I screamed, the pleasure finally breaking over me in a shattering wave just as a powerful, undeniable contraction seized my entire midsection.

As the contraction seized me, Alaric’s primal rhythm shifted instantly. He didn't pull away, but he stilled his heavy thrusts, his muscles locking like iron as he became an anchor for me to cling to. He leaned down, burying his face in the crook of my neck, his breath hitching as he felt my womb turn to solid stone beneath his chest. I let out a low, guttural moan, my eyes squeezed shut, riding the peak of the wave until the tension slowly, mercifully began to melt away.

The moment the tightness eased, Alaric didn't give me a second to recover. With a low, dark chuckle that vibrated against my skin, he surged back into me, driving deeper than he had the entire evening. It was as if the pause had only served to fuel his fire.

"You're so open for me, Elara," he rasped, his voice thick with a heady mix of lust and awe.

"Open for you... and soon for him," I panted, my mind swirling in a haze of endorphins and adrenaline. I reached down, my hands trembling as I gripped the insides of my knees. With a burst of defiant strength, I pulled my legs back as far as they would go, pinning my thighs against my ribs, flanking the massive, high curve of my belly.

The position was extreme, exposing every inch of me to him, and it mirrored the very posture I knew I would soon adopt to bring our son into the world. I looked him dead in the eyes, my hair matted to my forehead with sweat. "Look at me, Alaric! Look at your wife! This is how I’ll look when he comes. This is how wide I’ll be when your massive son tries to force his way out of me. Do you think I can do it? Do you think he'll even fit?"

My words were a provocation, a raw expression of that mix of fear and kink that drove me. Alaric’s eyes flared with an almost frightening intensity. He reached out, his hands not finding the bed or my hips, but instead wrapping firmly around the sides of my oiled, distended belly. He dug his fingers in slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to claim—using the sheer weight and solid mass of my pregnancy as leverage to drive himself home.

"He will fit because you were made for this," he growled, his thrusts becoming heavy, rhythmic thuds that shook the very frame of the bed. "And I will be the one to see it. I'll see you stretched just like this, crying out for me, as he claims his first breath."

With his hands anchored on my stomach, the sensation was unlike anything I had ever felt. I could feel the baby kicking hard against the back of Alaric’s hands, a three-way connection of pulse, skin, and soul. Every time Alaric lunged forward, his weight pressed my belly down, forcing me to feel the incredible gravity of the child within.

"Yes! Hold me there!" I shrieked, my voice echoing off the stone walls of the chamber. "Use his weight! Push me, Alaric! Make me feel how big he is!"

I was driven to the brink of madness. The friction of his huge member, the warmth of his palms on my taut skin, and the internal pressure of the babe created a sensory overload that made my vision blur. I began to talk to him through the pleasure, my voice a frantic whisper. "He’s so low now... I can feel him pressing against you through the walls... your son is right there, Alaric. He’s watching us. He’s waiting for his turn to stretch me even further than you are."

Alaric let out a roar, a sound of pure, masculine triumph. He began to move with a relentless, punishing speed, his hands squeezing the sides of my belly as if trying to memorize its shape before it changed forever. I felt my internal muscles begin to quiver, the climax building alongside another looming contraction.

"I’m going to break," I sobbed, a smile of pure ecstasy on my face. "I’m going to break open for both of you!"

The intensity reached a fever pitch. The scent of the lavender oil was almost cloying now, mixed with the salt of our sweat and the iron-scent of the room’s ancient stone. I pulled my knees back even further, my body a taut bow of anticipation, egging him on with every gasp, every curse, and every mention of the gargantuan task my body was about to perform. We were no longer just a prince and princess; we were the very embodiment of creation, raw and beautiful, right on the precipice of the Great Change.

As the contraction seized me, Alaric’s primal rhythm shifted instantly. He didn't pull away, but he stilled his heavy thrusts, his muscles locking like iron as he became an anchor for me to cling to. He leaned down, burying his face in the crook of my neck, his breath hitching as he felt my womb turn to solid stone beneath his chest. I let out a low, guttural moan, my eyes squeezed shut, riding the peak of the wave until the tension slowly, mercifully began to melt away.

The moment the tightness eased, Alaric didn't give me a second to recover. With a low, dark chuckle that vibrated against my skin, he surged back into me, driving deeper than he had the entire evening. It was as if the pause had only served to fuel his fire.

"You're so open for me, Elara," he rasped, his voice thick with a heady mix of lust and awe.

"Open for you... and soon for him," I panted, my mind swirling in a haze of endorphins and adrenaline. I reached down, my hands trembling as I gripped the insides of my knees. With a burst of defiant strength, I pulled my legs back as far as they would go, pinning my thighs against my ribs, flanking the massive, high curve of my belly.

The position was extreme, exposing every inch of me to him, and it mirrored the very posture I knew I would soon adopt to bring our son into the world. I looked him dead in the eyes, my hair matted to my forehead with sweat. "Look at me, Alaric! Look at your wife! This is how I’ll look when he comes. This is how wide I’ll be when your massive son tries to force his way out of me. Do you think I can do it? Do you think he'll even fit?"

My words were a provocation, a raw expression of that mix of fear and kink that drove me. Alaric’s eyes flared with an almost frightening intensity. He reached out, his hands not finding the bed or my hips, but instead wrapping firmly around the sides of my oiled, distended belly. He dug his fingers in slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to claim—using the sheer weight and solid mass of my pregnancy as leverage to drive himself home.

"He will fit because you were made for this," he growled, his thrusts becoming heavy, rhythmic thuds that shook the very frame of the bed. "And I will be the one to see it. I'll see you stretched just like this, crying out for me, as he claims his first breath."

With his hands anchored on my stomach, the sensation was unlike anything I had ever felt. I could feel the baby kicking hard against the back of Alaric’s hands, a three-way connection of pulse, skin, and soul. Every time Alaric lunged forward, his weight pressed my belly down, forcing me to feel the incredible gravity of the child within.

"Yes! Hold me there!" I shrieked, my voice echoing off the stone walls of the chamber. "Use his weight! Push me, Alaric! Make me feel how big he is!"

I was driven to the brink of madness. The friction of his huge member, the warmth of his palms on my taut skin, and the internal pressure of the babe created a sensory overload that made my vision blur. I began to talk to him through the pleasure, my voice a frantic whisper. "He’s so low now... I can feel him pressing against you through the walls... your son is right there, Alaric. He’s watching us. He’s waiting for his turn to stretch me even further than you are."

Alaric let out a roar, a sound of pure, masculine triumph. He began to move with a relentless, punishing speed, his hands squeezing the sides of my belly as if trying to memorize its shape before it changed forever. I felt my internal muscles begin to quiver, the climax building alongside another looming contraction.

"I’m going to break," I sobbed, a smile of pure ecstasy on my face. "I’m going to break open for both of you!"

The intensity reached a fever pitch. The scent of the lavender oil was almost cloying now, mixed with the salt of our sweat and the iron-scent of the room’s ancient stone. I pulled my knees back even further, my body a taut bow of anticipation, egging him on with every gasp, every curse, and every mention of the gargantuan task my body was about to perform. We were no longer just a prince and princess; we were the very embodiment of creation, raw and beautiful, right on the precipice of the Great Change.

The chamber seemed to shrink until the only world that existed was the heat of Alaric’s skin and the staggering weight of our son. As Alaric drove into me with that final, relentless sequence of thrusts, his hands still anchored firmly on the sides of my belly for leverage, the pleasure finally fractured. It was an explosion of white light behind my eyelids, a rhythmic, pulsing release that made my internal muscles grip him with a desperate, crushing intensity.

But even as the waves of my climax began to roll through me, they were suddenly, violently overtaken by something far more powerful.

"Alaric! Stop—no, don't stop, but look!" I cried out, my voice cracking.

I forced my head up, chin pressed to my chest, my eyes wide and fixed on my own body. The sight was terrifying and magnificent. My belly, once a smooth, shimmering dome of lavender-oiled skin, began to morph before our very eyes. It didn't just tighten; it surged. The muscles of my womb gathered with a primal, autonomous force, rising up and up until my stomach looked like a mountain peaking. My navel, already prominent, was thrust outward into a hard, white-tipped point as the baby was squeezed toward the birth canal.

The contraction was massive, un-ignorable, and seemingly eternal. It wasn't just an ache anymore; it was a crushing, all-encompassing pressure that felt as though my very hipbones were being forced apart from the inside. The sheer size of the child was undeniable now; I could see the distinct, broad shape of his back rippling beneath my skin as the uterus contracted around his huge frame.

"Oh, gods," Alaric breathed, his own climax stalled by the sheer awe of the sight. His hands stayed splayed across the shifting, hardening mass of my stomach, feeling the vibration of my muscles working. "Elara, he’s... he’s moving. He’s coming down."

"Don't stop!" I screamed, the pain and the pleasure mingling into a delirium. I grabbed his wrists, pinning his hands harder against my contracting belly. "The pressure... it’s too much, Alaric, I need you to push back! Make me feel it again! Help me through the peak!"

I was begging for the impossible, but he understood. Despite the intensity of the contraction, despite the way my body was literally hardening into a weapon of birth, Alaric growled and began to thrust again. It was slower now, more labored, as if he were fighting through a physical barrier. Each time he drove into me, it felt as though he were colliding with the very crown of our son’s head through the thin, stretched walls of my body.

"I have you," he grunted, his face contorted with a mixture of agony and ecstasy. "I'm not going anywhere."

He began to build the tempo again, his breath coming in jagged, guttural heaves. I could hear the change in him—the way his groans were turning into low, staccato barks of effort. He was close. The scent of him, sharp and masculine, filled my senses as he leaned down, his sweat dripping onto my heaving chest.

"Again!" I urged, my legs still pulled back to my ears, my belly still rock-hard and peaked in the throes of the long contraction. "Make me forget the size of him for one more second!"

The friction against my sensitized, laboring body was overwhelming. Another climax began to coil in my gut, fueled by the sheer taboo of what we were doing—loving each other while our son made his grand entrance. I watched my belly ripple and shift with every one of Alaric's thrusts, the skin stretched so tight it looked like polished marble.

Alaric’s movements became frantic, his fingers digging into the sides of my waist as he prepared for his own release. "Elara... I can’t... I’m right there..."

"Give it to me!" I sobbed, my voice lost in the shadows of the bed-hangings. "Fill me one last time before he takes it all!"

With a final, earth-shattering lunge that felt as though it reached my very heart, Alaric stiffened. His back arched, his muscles standing out in stark relief as he finally surrendered to his climax. At that exact moment, the contraction peaked into a final, breathtaking surge of pressure. I felt my body give way to a second, even more violent release, my screams joining his in a chaotic, beautiful duet of completion.

For a long, silent moment, we stayed like that—locked together, his weight heavy and comforting on top of me, his heart thudding against my breasts, while my belly remained hard and high between us, a silent promise of the labor that was now, truly, beginning in earnest.

The silence following our shared release was heavy and short-lived, broken only by our jagged breathing and the soft crackle of the hearth. Alaric remained within me, his forehead resting against mine, his large frame still trembling with the aftershocks of his climax. But the peace was shattered before our heart rates could even settle.

Deep in the base of my spine, a new sensation began to coil—not an ache, but a tectonic shift. It built with terrifying speed, a wall of pressure that made the previous contractions feel like mere whispers.

"Alaric," I groaned, the sound vibrating deep in my throat. "Another one. Already."

I could feel him still inside me, but suddenly the sensation of his presence was eclipsed by a far more ominous weight. The baby—our massive, slumbering giant—had been stirred by our passion and the preceding surges. Now, he seemed to drop with the force of a falling star. The pressure against my pelvis was absurd, an impossible fullness that made me feel as though my body were being stretched to the very limit of the flesh.

My hands, slick with oil and sweat, flew to my belly, joining Alaric’s. Together, our four hands felt the incredible transformation. My knees, which I had been holding tight, suddenly lost their strength; I let them fall wide to the sides, my hips splayed open in a position of total, raw vulnerability. I felt so vast, so incredibly occupied by this life.

"He's so big," I whimpered, my fingers tracing the hard, peaked ridge of my womb. "Alaric, he’s too big... he's right there."

Then, the sensation changed. It was no longer something happening to me; it was something my body was demanding. A sudden, fierce, animalistic electricity surged through my nerves. It was an urge so primal and ancient that it bypassed my mind entirely. It was the "fetal ejection reflex," a terrifying and exhilarating loss of control.

"I have to... I need to..." I couldn't finish the sentence.

My body acted on its own. My head and shoulders curled forward, my chin tucking toward my chest as I instinctively rounded my torso around the massive, rock-hard mountain of my belly. My hands gripped the underside of the curve, trying to lift the weight, to guide it.

I began to bear down.

It wasn't a choice; it was a command from my very bones. I let out a low, guttural grunt, a sound I didn't recognize as my own, as I pushed with every fiber of my being. I felt Alaric still inside me, and the dual pressure of his member and the baby’s descending head created a sensation of total, breathtaking expansion.

"Elara! You're pushing!" Alaric’s voice was filled with a frantic, protective awe. He shifted his weight, his hands sliding under my buttocks to support me, his eyes wide as he watched my belly ripple with the sheer force of my internal effort.

The contraction was relentless. I felt my abdominal muscles knotting with a strength I never knew I possessed, driving the massive child downward. I could feel the crown of his head—broad and solid—pressing against the very threshold of my body. It burned; a searing, stretching heat that made me gasp, but the urge to push was so dominant that I leaned into the pain, welcoming the burn because it meant he was moving.

"That's it, my queen," Alaric urged, his breath hot against my cheek. "Push for him. Push into me. Bring him down."

I curled tighter, my face turning a deep crimson from the effort. My navel stood out like a hard, white stone against the stretched, dark-lined skin of my stomach. Every muscle in my body was focused on that single, downward drive. The bed beneath us seemed to creak in sympathy with the monumental task. The sheer scale of the baby was a physical reality now; I wasn't just birthing a child, I was birthing a giant, a warrior, a king.

As the contraction finally reached its peak and began a slow, agonizingly beautiful ebb, I collapsed back against the pillows, my lungs burning for air. Alaric slowly withdrew, his eyes never leaving mine, his expression one of pure, unadulterated worship.

"He's right there, Elara," he whispered, his hand trembling as he touched the very bottom of my belly, where the skin was tautest. "I can feel him. You’re doing it. You’re really doing it."

I lay there, my legs still wide, my belly still humming with the aftershocks of the effort, knowing that the rest of the night would be a marathon of this raw, beautiful power. The fear was gone, replaced by a fierce, soaring pride. I was Elara, and I was bringing a giant into the world.

I lay back against the damp pillows for only a fleeting second, my chest heaving, the air in the room tasting of salt and fire. The pressure in my pelvis didn't dissipate with the end of the surge; instead, it remained as a heavy, thruming presence, a reminder of the massive weight of the boy who was determined to claim his kingdom.

I reached out, my fingers trembling as I caught Alaric’s wrists. He was beginning to pull away, his face etched with a look of frantic concern, but I gripped him with a strength born of desperation.

"No," I gasped, my voice raw. "Don't leave. Stay... stay inside me, Alaric."

He paused, hovering over me, sweat dripping from his golden hair onto my collarbone. "Elara, the labor... the pushes... I don't want to hurt you. He’s so low now."

"It helps," I pleaded, pulling him back down. I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist, forcing him back into the heat of my body. "When you move... it stirs the fire. It makes the contractions stronger, and it... it gives me something else to focus on besides the stretch. Please. Don't stop."

His eyes darkened with a fierce, protective understanding. He nodded, bracing his massive arms on either side of my head. He began to move again, but it was different now—slower, deeper, a heavy, grinding rhythm that seemed to massage the very walls of my womb against the baby’s head. We were both slick with sweat, our bodies sliding against one another, the candlelight flickering against the glistening sheen of my distended, heaving belly.

"You are incredible," he whispered, his voice a ragged growl. He was driving into me, his member a solid, grounding anchor in the midst of the rising storm. "You are the strongest woman I have ever known."

I threw my head back, my hair a tangled mess across the silk. The sensation was intoxicating. Each of his deep, deliberate thrusts sent a vibration through the baby, and I felt the boy respond with a heavy, rolling movement of his limbs. The "birth kink" that we had whispered about in the safety of our early months was now our reality—a wild, primal blending of creation and desire.

Suddenly, the air in my lungs seemed to vanish.

The next contraction didn't build slowly; it slammed into me like a battering ram. My womb didn't just tighten; it convulsed, the muscles gathering with a terrifying, autonomous power. My belly rose up, the skin stretching so thin it looked translucent, the baby’s broad back and a tiny, kicking heel clearly defined beneath the surface.

"Alaric! Now!" I shrieked.

The animalistic urge to bear down returned with a vengeance. Because Alaric was still planted deep within me, the internal pressure reached a tipping point that made my vision swim. I didn't just push; I exploded into the effort.

I curled my body forward again, my hands locking behind my thighs to pull them back even further, opening the way for the two forces competing for space within me. I was pushing against the massive child, and Alaric was pushing into me, the two of us creating a crushing, rhythmic force.

"Push, Elara! Push through me!" Alaric roared, his own muscles straining as he held himself inside me, acting as the very anvil upon which I was forging our son’s arrival.

The sound that left my throat was a long, low bellow of effort. I felt progress —the searing, incredible stretch as the massive head of our son pressed down into my canal. With Alaric there, the fullness was total. I felt as though I were being split open by a god, a magnificent and terrible expansion that defied the limits of my flesh. I could feel the head—broad, solid, and undeniably huge—moving mere millimeters, but moving nonetheless.

I poured every ounce of my soul into that push, my face hot, my heart thrumming in my ears. The room, the castle, the world outside—it all vanished. There was only the heat, the sweat, the crushing pressure of the prince inside me and the king coming out of me.

As the surge finally began to taper, I slumped back, my body vibrating with the sheer intensity of what we had just done. Alaric collapsed against me, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps, his heart racing against mine.

"I felt him," he whispered into my hair, his voice trembling with awe. "Elara, I felt the top of his head. He's... he's almost here.”

The air in the chamber felt thick enough to touch, heavy with the scent of spent lavender and the iron-rich tang of the work at hand. Alaric stayed with me, his movements now shallow and rhythmic, a constant, grounding friction against the rising tide of my labor. He was breathing hard, sweat dripping from his chin onto my heaving chest, his large hands splayed across my belly to feel the child’s slow, tectonic descent.

"He's so close, Elara," he rasped, his voice a low vibration. "I can feel him moving against me. He’s massive."

I didn't have the breath to answer. My belly was a mountain of stone, the skin stretched so tight it shimmered like glass. I could feel the crown of our son's head—broad, firm, and impossibly large—pressing into the birth canal, claiming the space that Alaric occupied. The sensation of being filled by both of them was reaching a breaking point, a magnificent, terrifying fullness that made my soul soar even as my body trembled.

Then, the next contraction hit.

It wasn't just a surge; it was a total, overwhelming command. My body seized, my chin tucked hard to my chest, and I let out a long, guttural grunt of effort. I gripped the furs of the bed, my knuckles white, as I bore down with everything I had.

The pressure was beyond anything I had imagined. As I pushed, I felt the baby’s head descend with the slow, inevitable force of a glacier. It was a searing, heavy weight that began to displace Alaric. I felt him being forced back, inch by inch, as our son’s broad skull took up residence in the final stretch of my body.

"He's coming... Elara, he's taking the way!" Alaric cried out, his voice filled with a wild, primal excitement.

I gave one final, screaming heave, my abdominal muscles knotting into iron. In that moment of incredible expansion, I felt the broad, solid curve of the baby’s head finally reach the very threshold. The sheer volume of the child was too much; with a wet, heavy slide, the baby’s descent finally pushed Alaric’s member completely free of me.

The sudden change in pressure was staggering. As Alaric was forced out, his member—still rigid and slick—popped upward with the momentum of the release. It came to rest for a heartbeat right against the quivering, stretched skin of my high-peaked belly, a stark image of the passion that had brought us to this moment.

I collapsed back into the pillows, my lungs burning, my entire lower body feeling as though it were glowing with white-hot fire. Between my wide-spread thighs, the "ring of fire" had begun. The very top of a dark, hair-covered crown was now visible, a solid circle of life stretching me to a point of no return.

"Look," Alaric breathed, his hand trembling as he reached down, his fingers hovering just inches from the crowning head. "Look at the size of him, Elara. You've done it. He's right there."

I looked down, my breath coming in short, shallow puffs. There he was—the first glimpse of our giant. The crown of his head was vast, far larger than I had ever dreamed, a dark, wet moon appearing between my legs. The sight of him, and the feel of Alaric’s warmth still resting atop my laboring womb, filled me with a sudden, soaring triumph.

"He's... he's huge," I whispered, a tear of pure exhaustion and joy carving a path through the sweat on my cheek.

"He is a king," Alaric vowed, his eyes locked on the crowning life. "One more push, my love. Just one more and the world changes.”

I lay there for a heartbeat, pinned by the gravity of our son's descent, but the fire in my blood hadn't been extinguished by the labor—it had been refined. I looked up at Alaric, my chest heaving, my eyes bright with a feverish, beautiful madness. I licked my lips, tasting the salt of our shared effort, and reached out to touch his hand where it gripped my thigh.

"Tell me," I rasped, my voice thick with the primal thrill of the moment. "Tell me what you see, Alaric. Your wife, spread wide... giving way to your giant. Tell me how I look to you."

Alaric’s gaze was fixed on the dark, broad crown of the head stretching me to the limit. His face was a mask of raw, masculine hunger. "You look like a goddess of war and life," he groaned, his voice cracking. "I see your body opening, yielding to a strength that shouldn't be possible. You’re so wide, Elara... stretched so thin for him, and yet you look more powerful than any king I’ve ever met. Seeing you like this... it’s more than I can bear."

As if to answer his worship, my body reached its final, most potent preparation. I reached up, my hands trembling as I cupped my own heavy, swollen breasts. I squeezed, and with the sudden surge of hormones, the first of my milk—sweet and golden—sprayed past my fingers, splashing onto my own skin and Alaric’s hands.

The sight of it, the raw, dripping evidence of my ripening motherhood, was the final spark. I felt the next contraction begin to coil—a massive, tectonic wave that demanded everything.

"Here he comes!" I shrieked, my body curling forward once more.

I gripped my legs, pulling them back until I felt the pressure of the baby’s massive head truly crowning, the "ring of fire" a blinding halo of white-hot intensity. I bore down with a guttural, earth-shaking roar, my abdominal muscles knotting into a hard, defined ridge against the mountain of my womb.

The sight was too much for Alaric. As he watched me push, my face flushed and my milk spilling, his own release finally tore from him. His member, still resting atop the lower curve of my rock-hard, laboring belly, pulsed with a violent intensity. He let out a choked, primal cry of "Elara!" and clutched the sides of my stomach for dear life.

As I heaved, driving the massive skull of our son into the world, I felt the warmth of Alaric’s seed spilling across me. It splattered against the taut skin of my belly, my heaving bosom, and even a stray drop hit my cheek, mixing with the sweat and the milk. It was a chaotic, beautiful deluge—a total union of our passion and the birth of our heir.

The pressure between my legs reached an impossible peak. I felt the broad forehead, then the brows, and finally, with a wet, heavy rush of expansion that felt like the world itself was widening, the massive head of our son was born into Alaric’s waiting hands.

I slumped back, a long, high-pitched wail of relief and triumph escaping me. I was covered in the signs of our love and the fluid of life, my belly finally beginning to soften as the giant’s body prepared to follow.

I lay in the wreckage of our passion and the miracle of the birth, my chest rising and falling in shallow, frantic hitches. The room smelled of salt, iron, and the heavy sweetness of my milk. I was dazed, my mind swimming in a potent, golden cocktail of oxytocin and adrenaline that made the world feel soft and sharp all at once.

The head of our son was out, resting heavily against my inner thighs, but the relief was only partial. I could feel the sheer, absurd breadth of his shoulders still lodged deep within me, an immovable wall of bone and muscle. He was so much bigger than even the head had suggested.

I looked down at the pale streaks of Alaric’s seed glistening on the hard curve of my lower belly. With a trembling finger, I traced a path through it and brought it to my lips, tasting the salt of our union. I looked at Alaric through my lashes, a love-drunk, delirious smile playing on my face.

"I'm ready," I whispered, the fear that had haunted me for weeks finally drowned out by this primal euphoria. "He's almost here, Alaric. Get your hands ready. Catch your king."

The next contraction rolled in like a mountain collapsing. It was heavier than the ones before, a dull, thudding command. I gripped my knees, pulling them out as wide as the bed would allow, and bore down with a guttural grunt. My face turned purple, my veins standing out in my neck, but the pressure didn't budge.

"Again!" Alaric urged, his hands cupping the baby’s head, his eyes wide as he saw how much of me was still filled.

I shifted, grabbing the backs of my thighs and pulling them toward my ears, trying to create even more space in my pelvis for the giant within. I pushed until my ears rang, my abdominal muscles quivering with the strain. Nothing. A gush of warm birthing fluids escaped, soaking into the white linens and the furs, but the shoulders remained stuck.

Panic tried to claw its way back into my mind, but I pushed it away. I reached down and wrapped both of my arms around my right leg, hugging it to my chest in a desperate, lopsided tilt, and heaved once more. I poured every remaining ounce of my royal blood into that push, my body shaking with the effort of trying to move the immovable.

"He's stuck, Alaric," I gasped as the contraction faded, my head falling back against the pillows. "He's too broad. I can feel him... he's so wide."

I looked down at the dark, wet head of our son and then up at Alaric, who was still slick with sweat and the remnants of our lovemaking. The reality of the baby's size was no longer a kink or a fantasy; it was a physical challenge that demanded every bit of our combined strength.

The reprieve was cruel in its brevity. I barely had time to taste the air before the next wave began to build, a terrifying, tectonic pressure that felt as if my internal organs were being crushed into my spine. I threw my head back, my hair a golden tangle of sweat and lavender oil, and let out a sound that was no longer human—a raw, jagged scream of effort.

"He won't move!" I sobbed, the first tendrils of real panic beginning to choke my hormone-induced bliss. "Alaric, he’s stuck! I can’t... he’s too big!"

I pushed until the world went black at the edges, my body vibrating with a force that felt like it would shatter my hips. I was wide, wider than I ever thought a woman could be, but the broad, solid shelf of our son’s shoulders was an unyielding wall. I looked down, seeing my own flesh stretched to the point of translucence around the dark head, and for a moment, the fear threatened to drown me.

Alaric saw it. He saw the flicker of terror in my eyes, and I watched the prince vanish, replaced by a man of singular, desperate purpose. He didn't hesitate. He bit his lower lip so hard a bead of blood appeared, and without a word, he reached into the birth canal.

"Oh, gods!" I shrieked, my spine arching off the bed.

The sensation was maddening. His massive, calloused fingerss entered the space already occupied by the giant babe, stretching me open to a degree that felt impossible. It was a dual pressure—the immovable child and the determined father. I felt my skin burning, the "ring of fire" turning into a searing furnace as he searched, his fingers navigating the tight, slick space between my body and the baby’s frame.

"I have him," Alaric rasped, his voice thick with strain. "Elara, listen to me. I have his armpits. You have to push now. With everything you are. Give me your strength!"

The next contraction hit with the force of a tidal wave. I didn't need to be told. I grabbed my legs, pulling them back until they touched my shoulders, and bore down with a scream that tore through the castle walls. I felt Alaric’s muscles bunching as he began to pull, a slow, tedious, and incredibly powerful traction.

It was a battle of inches. I could feel the broad, muscular shoulders of our son—true mirrors of his father’s—slowly, painfully beginning to rotate and slide. It was a friction that felt like stone grinding against stone. I pushed until I thought my heart would burst, my eyes fixed on Alaric’s face, which was a mask of absolute concentration and love.

"Almost... almost..." he groaned, his own body shaking from the effort of the pull.

Then, with a wet, heavy suction that echoed in the quiet room, the shoulders finally cleared the threshold. The relief was instantaneous but only partial, for the rest of him was just as monumental. Tediously, slowly, Alaric continued to guide the massive torso out. I felt the chest, then the waist, each inch of him a fresh victory of expansion.

Finally, with one last, monumental heave from my exhausted womb, the hips cleared, and then, in a sudden, massive gush of warm birthing fluids that soaked the bed and splashed against Alaric’s chest, the long, powerful legs slid free.

The silence that followed was broken by a sudden, sharp, and incredibly loud cry. It was the voice of a giant, a deep, resonant wail that declared his arrival to the world.

Alaric didn't wait to clean him. He scooped the heavy, warm, and slick bundle of life—our son, covered in the traces of our labor and our love—and laid him directly onto my chest. The weight of him was staggering; he was a solid, massive creature, his skin already glowing with health.

Alaric collapsed onto the bed beside me, his arm draped over my heaving shoulders, his other hand resting on the baby’s back. He was covered in sweat, milk, and the remnants of his own release, looking at us with a gaze so full of raw, unadulterated worship that it made my heart ache.

I looked down at the babe, then up at Alaric. The hormones were still singing in my blood, a wild, love-drunk melody that made me feel invincible. I reached out, my fingers tracing the line of Alaric’s jaw, my eyes glittering with a feverish, beautiful hunger.

"He's perfect," I whispered, my voice a raspy thread of sound. I leaned in, my lips brushing Alaric’s ear, a mischievous, primal smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "And Alaric... I want another. I want to do it all again."

Alaric let out a low, breathless laugh, pulling us both closer into the heat of his embrace. "Whatever you desire, my queen. Whatever you desire."

[aconitum009]

Title: The King's Urethral Birth

A/N: It's an mpreg birth story about a king, whose baby is just too big. This is going to be a urethral/penis birth. Refrain from reading if you are not into it or it's too graphic for you. Characters, places, and stories are all imaginary.

word count: 4k+

Story:

The Puhin kingdom is waiting for its heir. Their king, King Protheon Stoneborn, is pregnant with his first child. Proheon is currently 37 weeks pregnant. His pregnant belly is huge to accommodate his big baby. Despite pregnancy, he is actively doing his duties as a king.

He is in his bedchamber. "This baby is really big." He huffs, caressing his huge pregnant belly.

His royal attendant knocks on his bedchamber door, "Your Majesty..”

"Come in." He calls out, his voice slightly strained as he tries to find a comfortable position in his large bed. The room is filled with the scent of lavender and other calming herbs, meant to soothe the king's aching body. "Ah, come here." He waves his hand weakly.

The royal attendant bows, "How is His Majesty feeling?”

"Ugh, this baby is pressing on my bladder. I need to pee every hour." He groans, shifting his weight to the side. "And my back is killing me. I feel like a cow ready to calve." He chuckles weakly, trying to make a joke out of his discomfort.

The royal attendant nods sympathetically and continues, “The durbar is ready. Everyone is waiting for His Majesty.”

"Ah, right." He sighs heavily, placing a hand on his massive belly. He tries to stand up, clearly struggling with his heavy pregnancy. He leans on the royal attendant for support as he slowly makes his way to the durbar. His movements are slow and deliberate, his belly swaying heavily with each step. As they enter the durbar, all the nobles and officials bow down.

The king takes his seat on the throne, his pregnant belly prominently displayed. He calls the court to order, his voice echoing through the room. "Rise and be heard!" He commands. The nobles begin to approach the throne, each with their matters to discuss or reports to give.

As the court progresses, Protheon listens attentively to each noble, his hand resting on his massive belly. He occasionally nods, his expression calm and composed despite his obvious discomfort. Suddenly, he feels a sharp pain in his lower abdomen. "Uhnng..”

Protheon grips the armrests of his throne tightly, his knuckles turning white as he tries to breathe through the pain. "Ah... ah... not now..." He mutters under his breath, hoping that the pain will pass quickly.

The royal attendant whispers on his side, "Your Majesty, is everything alright?”

He takes a deep breath, trying to hide the pain from the others. "Yes, yes... I am fine." He says through gritted teeth. Another pain hits him, and he has to pause for a moment before continuing. "Just... just continue with the proceedings.”

The royal attendant looks at his belly, "His Majesty is near his due date. Maybe what his Majesty is having are Braxton Hicks contractions.”

Protheon nods weakly, his forehead beading with sweat. "Yes... I know. The healers say it could be any day now." He takes a deep breath, trying to focus on the matters at hand. But with each passing minute, the contractions seem to be getting stronger.

As the final noble bows and the durbar is dismissed, Protheon attempts to stand but nearly doubles over with a particularly strong contraction. He grabs the servant’s arm for support, his breathing heavy. "I... I need to retire to my chambers." He whispers urgently, his hand resting heavily on his belly.

"Yes, Your Majesty," the royal attendant helps him waddle to his bedchamber.

Protheon leans on him heavily as he makes his way to his chambers, each step agonizing. As they reach the bedchamber, he collapses onto the bed with a grunt. "Ah, gods... it hurts.”

"Take some rest, Your Majesty. They will be gone soon.”

Protheon nods, trying to catch his breath. "Yes, yes... I know." He lies back on the pillows, his hand still resting on his belly. The contractions seem to be easing slightly, but he knows this is just the calm before the storm. "Could you send for the midwife?” He groans softly, shifting his weight onto his side to get more comfortable. "Just... just in case. I don't want to risk anything." He knows the birthing process can be long and unpredictable, and he wants to be prepared.

The midwife confirms that everything is progressing normally and he is still weeks away from giving birth. Protheon nods, grateful for the confirmation. He tries to rest as much as possible.

Weeks passed in the blink of an eye. And today is his due date. He is wearing a robe, completely naked underneath. His belly is so huge and heavy. His baby is a big one.

His massive belly swaying from side to side, Protheon paces back and forth in his bedchamber, growing more impatient and uncomfortable by the minute. He feels like he's carrying a boulder inside him, and the baby shows no signs of wanting to come out. He pauses by the window, looking out at the kingdom below, his reflection showing a heavily pregnant king with a belly that touches his knees. He places his hands on the windowsill, trying to push himself up slightly to ease the pressure, but it's no use. "Come on, come on...”

The royal attendant knocks on his door, "Your Majesty.”

"Come in!" He calls out, turning to face the door as he enters. His robe parts slightly, revealing his swollen belly and the dark line running down his middle. He looks exhausted and frustrated. "Still nothing... I'm starting to think this baby is never coming out.”

The royal attendant bows, "How is His Majesty feeling?”

He groans and rubs his belly, "Miserable. Uncomfortable. Like there's a watermelon sitting inside me that refuses to budge. I'm tired of being pregnant. I want this baby out now.” He looks up at the servant with weary eyes, “Leave me alone for now.”

The royal attendant bows and leaves.

He watches as he leaves. He's the king, the most powerful man in the land, but right now he just feels like a vulnerable, pregnant man, waiting for a baby that won't come. He returns to his pacing, his mind racing with worry and impatience.

As the hours drag on with no sign of labor, Protheon finds himself growing increasingly agitated. He pauses by an ornate mirror, hardly recognizing the swollen, heavily pregnant man staring back at him. "Just when I thought I couldn't possibly get any bigger..." he mutters sarcastically to himself.

He suddenly doubles over, a sharp pain shooting through his lower back and abdomen. He gasps, grabbing onto the nearest chair for support. "Ow... ow ow ow..." He pants, waiting for the pain to subside. But as soon as it does, another one hits him, even stronger this time.

The royal attendant knocks on his door again, "Your Majesty.”

Still hunched over from the latest contraction, Protheon straightens up with a grunt, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. "Enter," he commands, his voice strained. As the servant steps into the room, he leans heavily against the desk, sweat beading his brow. "What is it?”

"The durbar is ready for a while. Everyone is waiting for His Majesty.”

The kingdom needs to go on.

"Very well," He replies tightly, already knowing he'll have to hide his discomfort. He straightens his spine, broadens his shoulders - the picture of a king. He mutters softly to himself, "Just have to get through this meeting without moaning or showing that I'm ready to give birth...”

His pregnant belly is huge and his dick is puffy. He shifts uncomfortably, trying to adjust his robe to hide the obvious signs of his condition. His swollen belly makes it difficult to move gracefully, and he knows that his puffy member is in discomfort. He takes a deep breath, trying to focus on maintaining his regal composure.

He waddles slightly as he walks, trying to maintain his royal bearing despite the weight of his pregnant belly. His subjects bow as he passes, whispering amongst themselves. He can hear snippets - "Look at his belly..." "He looks ready to burst...”

As they approach the durbar hall, a particularly strong contraction hits him. He stumbles slightly, a small gasp escaping his lips before he can stop it. He quickly recovers, hoping no one noticed. He takes his seat on the throne, trying to arrange himself comfortably despite his massive belly.

The durbar begins. He listens to the various petitions and reports, nodding and responding with regal authority. Despite the pain, he manages to keep his composure. However, as the durbar progresses, the contractions become more frequent and intense. He grips the armrests of his throne tightly, knuckles turning white.

Between answering questions and signing documents, he fights to keep his face neutral as another wave of pain hits him. He feels his belly tighten and harden, his insides shifting as the baby moves lower. "Just a little longer," he thinks to himself, sweat beading on his forehead.

He shifts in his seat again, trying desperately to adjust his position to ease the discomfort between his legs. His once proud manhood has swelling noticeably, becoming engorged and sensitive. He keeps his legs tightly crossed, praying that no one notices. The fabric of his royal robes tents dangerously.

Suddenly, he feels a strange, heavy pressure in his groin. He looks down in shock as he sees his royal robe tents more and more. His dick expanding rapidly, growing to accommodate the baby into it. He immediately puts his hands over to hide the tent.

His ministers and advisors continue their reports, completely unaware of their king's condition. His dick is now significantly larger, easily twice its original size. He keeps his legs together tightly, trying to hide it. He answers questions, signs papers, his body slowly preparing to give birth.

He tries to focus on the proceedings, but every few minutes, another contraction hits, causing his dick to throb and expand even more. The pain is intense, but he grits his teeth and bears it. He can feel the baby moving lower into his shaft, stretching him in ways he never imagined.

The royal attendant whispers to him, "Is His Majesty alright?”

He looks at him with pain-glazed eyes, trying to maintain his royal composure. "I am fine," he whispers back through clenched teeth, his voice strained. His dick jerks beneath his robes as another contraction hits, the baby moving lower still. "Continue,”

The durbar continues. He sits there, his face contorted with silent pain as his dick continues to expand, growing larger and heavier with each passing minute. He signs another document, his hand trembling slightly.

His chief minister bows deeply, "Your majesty, the durbar has ended. The hall clears.

His royal attendant bows, "Your Majesty, it's time for the secret court. How are you doing?”

He looks at him, his eyes dark with pain. He unconsciously spreads his legs slightly, trying to ease the pressure. "I am managing," he grunts softly, his voice deeper than usual. "Let’s go.”

He walks slowly, his legs spread wider than usual to accommodate his large dick. He tenses slightly with each step, trying not to moan as the baby drops a little more with every movement. He enters the secret courtroom, his robes hiding everything, his face serious and kingly.

The secret courtroom is a secret room deep inside the palace, where the loyal individuals who secretly report crimes, give insider information, and serve the king from the shadows gathers. It has a long table where everyone gathers around. There are no chairs, everyone stands around the table.

Protheon stands at the head of the table, his hands resting on the smooth surface as he listens to the first case. His mind is focused, but his body is betraying him. With each passing minute, his dick grows heavier and more sensitive. He shifts his weight slightly, trying to ease the discomfort.

His knuckles turn white as he grips the table edge, another intense contraction coursing through him. His breath catches in his throat as he feels the baby starts moving into his dick, stretching him beyond what he thought possible. Sweat beads across his forehead, despite maintaining his royal composure. He tries to focus on the noble speaking, but all he can feel is the baby descending further within his dick. His balls are heavy, aching with pressure. His grip on the table tightens even more, maintaining his composure only through sheer willpower.

His royal attendant whispers, "Your Majesty, is everything fine?"

He glances at him, his eyes widening briefly as another wave of intense sensation overwhelms him. He nods almost imperceptibly, a bead of sweat trickling down his cheek. "Everything is under control," he whispers back, his voice strained. His thighs squeeze together involuntarily, trying to alleviate the building pressure.

He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tries to ignore the searing pain and pressure building in his lower abdomen. He can feel the baby's head dropping inside his distended dick, stretching him wider than he ever thought possible. His dick pulses and swells, making space for the baby's head. His body produces more lubrication, making the passage slicker. He grits his teeth to stop a moan as he realizes the baby's head is almost entirely inside his dick now. He spreads his legs wider subconsciously.

He forces his attention back to the court proceedings, his mind screaming with pain and discomfort. His hands tremble slightly as he keeps them firmly on the table, trying to hide the agony he's in. The baby's head is now fully inside his dick, and he can feel the shoulders starting to descend. He suddenly stiffens as a powerful contraction hits, his back arching involuntarily. His dick pulses violently, pushing the baby's shoulders down further. He bites his lip hard to suppress a groan. The nobles notice his sudden tension but attribute it to stress from ruling.

"Your Majesty?" the royal attendant whispers worriedly.

He glances at him, his face pale and sweaty. He's struggling to breathe through the intense pressure and pain. "Just... a moment," he manages to whisper, his voice strained. Another wave of intense pain washes over him as another powerful contraction hits. He grips the table with white knuckles, his body wracked with pain as he pushes through the contraction. He can feel the baby's shoulders slowly descending his dick, stretching him even further. Every movement is excruciating, but he forces a strained smile, nodding at court officials.

Despite his body screaming in agony, he fixes his gaze on the court, determined to maintain his composure. His dick throbs uncomfortably around the massive baby, the pressure almost unbearable. With each rapid contraction, his swollen, straining dick twitches horribly. He feels an urgent pressure building. Sweat beads on his forehead as he leans forward slightly, hands clenched under the table.

He swallows hard, trying to ignore the massive, throbbing pressure in his engorged dick. His belly is taut and round, stretching the fabric of his royal robes. He can feel the baby shifting inside him, pushing against his swollen dick. His dick hole is leaking wetness.

Breathing heavily, he shifts uncomfortably, his body trembling on the edge of desperation. The crushing fullness in his dick is unbearable now, his belly contracting visibly as another monster contraction hits. He knows he can't hold back much longer. With a choked gasp, he leans heavily against the table, his legs shaking violently. His dick pulses painfully, the baby's head pressing urgently against his stretched opening. He bites his lip hard to stifle a scream as another contraction hits, threatening to drop him to his knees.

The court continues without knowing anything.

Panting desperately, Protheon grips the edge of the table tightly. His soaked dick throbs wildly, his water surrounding the massive baby trapped inside. Each contraction sends shockwaves of agony through him, his hole twitching urgently around the baby's head.

"Mmph!" He chokes loudly as his water suddenly gushes out, shooting through his dick hole like a fountain. The baby drops lower, pressing brutally against his dick hole. His belly tightens painfully, his hole spasming wildly as more fluids trickle out.

With a deep, desperate moan, "Unngh!" He drops to his knees hard, his body wracking with intense contractions. His massive belly pushes down dangerously low, his dick hole twitching and gushing fluids. He spreads his legs wide, his body taking over as labor progresses rapidly.

"Your Majesty??” Everyone shocked.

"Ahh—" He gasps, unable to form coherent words as another contraction rips through him. His body convulses, and he leans forward, his hands gripping the floor for support. His dick throbs painfully, "Midwife! Get me a damned midwife NOW!" He screams desperately, his voice breaking as another massive contraction doubles him over. His water-soaked rob tented obscenely, fluids seeping through. He rocks on his knees, utterly helpless before the intense force of his labor.

The royal attendant rushes to his side and tries to make him stand.

"No! Don't move me!" He screams, his voice raw and desperate. "Just get the midwife here NOW!" He pushes away his hands, his body convulsing with another contraction. His dick throbs painfully, and he can feel the baby's head pressing urgently against his opening.

"Your Majesty, this is not the place. They can’t come here. You have to go to the birthing chamber" the royal attendant whispers as he yanks him up.

"Aaah!" Protheon cries out sharply as the sudden movement sends a blast of pain through him. He staggers weakly as the royal attendant pulls him up, his legs barely able to support his weight. His massive belly bounces heavily, the baby pressing dangerously low. "The... the chamber... hurry...”

The royal attendant helps him waddle towards the birthing chamber. His expanded dick filled with half of his huge baby, his belly still so gravid and heavy. Panting heavily, he allows the royal attendant to practically drag him towards the birthing chamber. Each jostle sends shockwaves of pain through his enormously gravid belly and throbbing dick. Half of his gigantic baby still fills his stretched cock, bobbing obscenely with each waddle-step.

"Ahh—ahh—" He grunts with each step, his body trembling from the effort and pain. His massive belly sways heavily, and his dick throbs intensely, leaking fluids with every movement. As they are out in the palace hall, seeing him, the servants rush to him, and hurry into the birthing chamber, their faces a mix of concern and shock.

As they reaches the birthing chamber, "Get me on the birthing stool!" Protheon gasps desperately as another contraction hits, nearly making him double over. His waterlogged dick is fully erect now, swollen and distended from the baby inside. Sweat drips down his face as he leans heavily against the servants supporting him.

The servants quickly position him on the high, curved birthing stool, his massive belly resting on the curved part for support. His expanded dick hangs heavily between his legs, pulsing with each contraction. He spreads his legs wide, the baby's head pressing urgently against his tight opening.

Midwives come rushing in.

He cries out, his voice hoarse and strained. He looks up at the midwives, his eyes wild with pain and desperation. "Get this baby out of me NOW!" His body convulses again, and he grips the edges of the birthing stool tightly, knuckles white.

The lead midwife rushes between his legs, her eyes widening at the sight of his immensely swollen member containing half the baby. The other midwives position themselves, ready to assist.

The midwife's brow furrows as she examines his dilated hole, realizing it's not nearly enough to accommodate the massive baby. "Your Majesty, your hole is not dilated enough for the baby's size.”

He cries out, another contraction hitting hard. He moans loudly, his dick throbbing painfully.

"We have to wait" the midwife says, “We need it to stretch further before you can push."

"Wait?!" He screams, his belly tightening as another wave of pain washes over him. "I can't wait!" He cries out, feeling the baby drop lower inside him, stretching his dick hole even more. "It's getting bigger! My dick is getting bigger!”

"Your Majesty, you have to hold, breath through the pain.” the midwife adds.

"Breathe?! Breathe through this agony?!'' He roars, his massive belly shaking with each word. "This baby is tearing my dick apart!'' He screams, gripping his belly tightly as another powerful wave hits him. "Aaah! Ugh! Grnn!”

The midwife places a hand on his heaving belly, feeling the baby's movements inside. "Your Majesty, try to relax. The more you tense up, the more it will hurt. I need you to breathe deeply”

He glares at the midwife, his face red with pain and anger. "Relax?!'' He snarls, baring his teeth. "How can I relax when there's a giant baby inside my dick?!'' He cries out, his belly tightening again. "Unngh!”

The midwives quickly prepare an oil to aid dilation while the lead midwife carefully examines him again. She begins to prepare fingers coated in oil. The midwife carefully inserts two oiled fingers into his tight dick hole, gently stretching the tender rim.

He snaps, his massive belly contracting painfully. "It feels like someone is squeezing my dick with a giant hand!'' He screams, gripping his belly tightly. "Ugh! Heeinngg!" Another wave hits him, even stronger than before. He cries out as the midwife adds another finger, stretching him wider. His huge belly tightens with each contraction, pushing against his unborn child.

After several agonizing minutes of stretching, the midwife finally pulls her fingers out. Protheon is in agony. His massive belly is rock hard, each wave of pain coming closer. "Mnh! Grnn!'' He groans, gripping the stool tightly. "I can't! It's not coming out!" He screams, his dick stretched painfully around the baby's massive shoulders. His belly is taut, the skin shiny with sweat. "It's too big! Aaah! Ughhnn!”

With a grim expression, midwife says, “...It's no use. Even fully dilated, the baby is simply too big to come out that hole." She looks up at Protheon, her voice tinged with urgency.

"So what am I supposed to do?!'' He cries out, another wave hitting him. "I can't push anymore!'' He screams, his massive belly shaking with effort. "It's not moving!'' He collapses forward, his forehead resting on the back of the stool. "I'm dying!

The midwives glace at each other worriedly.

"Aaaah!'' He screams, his body convulsing with the force of another contraction. "It's too much! It won't come out!" He looks down at his dick, seeing the baby's head straining against his stretched opening. "I can't do this anymore!" He screams, breaking into sobs. "Look at me! I'm dying! My dick is Torn apart! The baby won't come out!" Another contraction hits, and he lets out a blood-curdling scream. "NNNNNGGHG!”

He doubles over, clutching his belly as the contraction reaches its peak. When it finally subsides, he slumps back against the stool, panting heavily. "I can't do this anymore," he gasps, tears streaming down his face. "It's too much. I want it out. Give me anything!'' He begs, his massive belly heaving with each breath. "Just get this damn baby out of me!'' He screams, another wave hitting him. "AAGGGHHH!”

The midwife watches his body closely, seeing his manhood swell with each contraction. He lets out guttural moans and groans as his body tries desperately to push the baby out. "Unh! Unh! God... it's so tight! It won't come out!”

The midwife swallows hard, "…Then we can cut your opening wider to help the baby out. But it would leave a permanent scar...”

"Do it!" He screams, his voice hoarse from all the screaming. "I don't care! Just get this baby out of me!" Between moans and groans, Protheon’s body shakes with each contraction. His legs are spread wide, his manhood throbbing and red. He looks down at his dick, seeing the baby's head straining against his opening. "Tear it open! Cut it open! I don't care!”

He braces himself, gripping the edges of the stool tightly as the midwives prepare their tools. "Do it now!" He shouts urgently, his belly trembling violently with another contraction.

The midwife takes the sterile knife and positions herself between his thighs. She looks at his swollen, distended manhood and takes a deep breath before making the first cut. Suddenly, a sharp sting radiates from his dick hole as a midwife makes a quick incision.

"AAAAHHH!" He screams, his body convulsing as the pain shoots through him. "Do it! Do it faster!" He urges, his voice breaking with desperation. The midwives work quickly, widening the incision just enough for the baby's head to start pushing through. Blood mixes with his amniotic fluid as he bears down. "AAAAH! FUCK! IT HURTS!”

His body shakes violently as he pushes the head of the baby through the newly cut flesh. He gasps, feeling the baby's head slowly emerging from his torn dick hole. His dick hole is now tightly stretching around his baby's head. "Your Majesty, you have to push.”

He grunts deeply, bearing down with all his strength. "Ugggh! Unnggh!" He moans loudly, watching his dick hole stretch tightly around his baby's massive head. "It's not coming out!" He pants, his face red and sweaty. "Unhhh... Ungh, God! It's too big!" He screams, his dick hole burning with unbearable pressure as his baby's head emerges. For a moment, everything stops - the baby is caught right at the opening of his dick hole. "It's... stuck!”

"Your Majesty, push hard!" The midwife suggests urgently.

He grunts loudly, pushing down with all his might. "Ugggh! Unngh!" He screams, his torn dick hole stretching even wider to accommodate his baby's head. "It's... too tight..." He pants desperately. "It won't come out!" The midwives watch in concern.

"Push Your Majesty, push hard!!!”

"Ungh! Ungh! Ungh!" He roars, his entire body shaking with the force of his pushes. His dick hole is stretched to its absolute limit, the baby's head barely moving through the tight opening. "It hurts! It fucking hurts!” The midwife quickly applies a generous amount of oil to his dick hole, hoping to ease the baby's passage.

"Ungh! Ungh!" He pushes harder, the oil helping to lubricate his dick hole. The baby's head starts to move more freely, slowly emerging from his stretched opening. "It's coming out! It's finally coming out!" He screams in a mix of pain and relief.

"Keep pushing, Your Majesty!" The midwife says.

"Ungh! Ungh! Ungh! Ungh!" He pushes with everything he's got, his dick hole stretching wider than ever before. With a final, massive push, the baby's head finally pops out of his dick hole. Blood gushes out in a massive wave as the head suddenly pops out.

"The head is out, Your Majesty!" The midwife cups the baby’s head.

"Ungh! Ungh!" He starts to push again, his face contorting with pain and effort. "It's so heavy! It feels like a boulder is coming out of my dick!” The baby's body starts to emerge, slowly slipping out of his dick hole.

"Ungh! Ungh! Ungh!" He grunts with each push, his body trembling from the exertion. The baby's shoulders finally emerge, followed by the torso. "AAAAH! FUCK!” He screams hysterically, sweat dripping down his face. With a desperate, final push, the baby's legs emerge in a gush of fluids. His dick hole spasms violently around the infants legs as they pop out.

"AAAHHH! It's... It’s out! It's finally fucking out!" He collapses onto his back, exhausted and shaking. His once majestic royal attire lies strewn around his sweat-soaked body. The midwife quickly checks the baby, ensuring its breathing is normal.

"Well? Is the little monster... alive?" He pants heavily, refusing to look down at the afterbirth still slippery between his thighs. The midwife nods, holding up a squirming infant. "A prince! Congratulations, Your Majesty."

The midwife and servants quickly clean him up, washing away the blood, fluids, and afterbirth from his dick hole. Protheon hisses in pain as they touch his sensitive, stretched opening.

"How long... how long will it take for me to... heal?" He asks, his voice barely above a whisper. The midwife gives him a sympathetic look. "It will take some time, Your Majesty. At least a few weeks before, you can use your royal scepter again without discomfort.” A bitter laugh escapes Pantho's lips as he realizes the ridiculousness of his situation. He shifts uncomfortably, feeling every ache and twinge in his abused hole. "Bring me wine..”

[gravidwithlore]

As the King's best, and most favorite, Hunting Dog, you were always regarded with a sense of pride and reverence. You commanded much more respect in his court than someone so lowly born, much less a werewolf like yourself, should have any right to. But lately, the way the King looked at you, with something more than pride, but with something possessive and intense, made you feel uncomfortably warm.

You were no stranger to a feral fling every now and again, but when the King approached you working in the kennels, all you wanted to do was fall to your knees and do whatever your King commanded. He chuckled and guided you towards a dark hidden corner, where he undid your pants just enough to slide his fingers between your already wet folds.

"I knew you were the most perfect Hunter I could ask for." He said, his lustful gaze piercing right through you. You were sure he could feel your cunt getting wetter. He undid his own pants, only enough to let out his hard thick cock, and pushed your waistband down to cup your ass. It wouldn't do for anyone to walk in and see the King buck-naked and fucking his Hunting Dog like an animal now would it? He guided you to bend over so he could take you from behind, rutting his cock in between your legs, coating it in your slick as he tells you what a credit to the werewolf species you are.

Just when you begin to whine and beg, he gently shushes you, and gives you what you want, no, what you NEED. The King pulls back and in one rough thrust bottoms out inside of you, filling you so hard and so fast your eyes begin to water. As he pulls out and thrusts in again, setting up a brutal desperate pace, the King reminds you the royal family is descended from the gods. Even the royal bastards are part of their godly bloodline. A thought sparks in the back of your brain, you imagine yourself, a lowly werewolf like yourself, swollen with the King's bastards. You push that thought down, that would never happen, the King would never allow it, no matter with how much respect and pride he treats your work.

But the thought, however briefly you let it stay, makes you moan loud enough that you quickly find something, some strips of leather, to stuff in your mouth. It wouldn't do to draw attention to the Kings indescrepancies, especially not when you owe him your life. You're already so close, as he takes his pleasure from your body, as he tells you what he wouldn't do to have an army just like you. Strong, smart, bloodthirsty, loyal.

The King finishes first, but keeps thrusting into you, his hands gripping your hips so hard you can already feel the bruises forming, as he encourages you to cum on your King's cock, like the good boy you are. Something snaps inside your brain, and the rush of pleasure is so hot and intense that you black out into unconsciousness. When you come to, the King is lifting your pants back over your ass, his cum dripping down your legs. Already put back together again, as regal and unfazed as always, the King pats you on your hip and tells you you've done excellent work, just like he would after a successful hunt. You nod numbly, and once he leaves you finish your work, quickly, as you feel his cum slowly oozing out of your pussy. You rush to your chambers, lock the doors, draw the curtains, and all night long, you use your fingers to fuck his cum right back into you, over and over, until there's no more dripping out, it's either drenching your sheets or deep deep inside of you. You howl as you cum one last time, and collapse exhausted, feeling as though you've just been in heat.

The next time the King approaches you for this favor, you actually are in heat. Usually, during this time, every few months or so, you find somewhere isolated and alone and suffer through it by yourself. But the King has requested you for a Hunt. Just you and him. Even when you argue that it's not safe for him, so close to your heat. You don't know what you might do in such a frenzy. Your King chuckles and assures you it will be a quick one, you'll be done and back before your heat even starts. But despite the King's words, you still find yourself possessed by the deep aching need in the middle of woods, afraid of harming the man you've sworn your life to protect, or worse, being unable to protect him should some other threat appear. But the King reassures you, as he holds your hips still and guides himself into your dripping wetness, that he knows you'll be a good boy for him, even when you're lost in your heat.

It's the best heat you've had in years. The King even humors your silly heat-addled brain and tells you how good and full you'll be with his pups, how big and strong your pups will be, how good and fertile you are that you'll barely be able to move with how many of his pups you'll be carrying. Several days later, as you catch your breath and come down from the high, you thank him for humoring you and playing along. The King only responds with an amused chuckle as they stroke their hand up along your hip bone, up your side, up to stop at the middle of your chest, then back down again, stopping to rub small circles over the base of your stomach.

Your 'private meetings' with the King continue over the next month or so. Something is off, but you can't quite place where this feeling is coming from. Your King reassures you that everything is fine, all 'according to plan.' It isn't until you're training in the forest in wolf form, you've noticed you've been getting a little slow recently, that your instincts scream at you while you're practicing a risky maneuver. One you've never balked at before, always ready to risk life and limb for your King, and country. But, in this moment, your wilder instincts scream at you to stop before you hurt the pups. You stop in pure confusion, as this thought, no, this realization, pops into your head unbidden.

You break from the forest sprinting as a wolf, and by the time you approach the castle gates you are running as a man. The swelling curve of your belly, the heightened sensitivity of your chest, the tightness of clothes you've owned for years, is now unmistakable, impossible to ignore as you race to find your King. You find him in a meeting with his advisors. Before you can stop yourself, you burst through the doors, only realizing what a mistake you've made until every eye in the room is on you as you stand there overly self-conscious and panting in exhaustion.

The King takes one look at you and dismisses everybody else. You're suddenly afraid of what he'll do to you. No matter how much he claims to respect you and your work, he'll never stand to have you on display, so obviously full of his bastards. When he approaches you, you're no longer panting from exhaustion, but instead panting in panic that threatens to overtake you as you fight the urge to run. Your brain freezes when the King leans in to kiss you, one hand gently cupping your chin and the other resting on the swell of your baby bump.

"I was wondering when you'd realize." He chuckles. Your eyes grow wide in shock. As the King continues to caress the still small bump, he explains that he's been feeding you fertility supplements for a year. A shiver races down your spine. Werewolves are never supposed to take fertility supplements, they're already notoriously fertile enough that adding supplements on top of that may leave a were with a dangerously big litter. But you'd do anything for your King, no matter how much danger it puts you in. He tells you that when you train a good war-horse, you breed it with other good war-horses to try and breed even better war-horses. And you're such a good Hunting Dog, it would be a shame to keep you pupless and empty. The King had been vetting other supposedly strong werewolves to breed you throughout the year, but determined none of them were quite strong enough. He decided he might as well just breed you himself, he is descended from the gods, after all.

You moan and squirm a little, and your King knew just what you needed. He guided your back onto the council table, your legs wrapped around his waist, as he pounded into you. He told you what a good boy you are getting knocked up with his pups so quickly, how well you've been adapting to all those fertility potions, how you're swelling up so nicely for him already, how he's going to take such good care of you now that you're full and bred. You whine in pleasure, already fantasizing about getting another litter fucked into you.

It seemed like your pregnancy was waiting to be noticed because after that day, your belly swelled at a rapid pace. Soon, it's impossible to hide it, especially when the King makes an announcement that you've volunteered to breed more large, strong pups like yourself to faithfully serve and protect the kingdom. Your face turns red as all the nobles politely clap at your dedication to King and country, the tunic tailored just earlier that day already beginning to tightly stretch across your perfectly round belly. You're not seen outside of your new rooms, right next to the King's chamber, for much longer after that. Clothes refuse to fit your rapidly swelling belly and the full milky tits growing on your chest, and another pair growing on the top of your belly, with another pair coming in below that.

The King loves to stride into your chambers to see the sight of you, so obscenely full of his countless bastard pups that even though you're only halfway through, already you can barely move. Between the belly that goes past your knees and spreads your legs when you sit, practically taking over your body, to your numerous heavy overfull teats that seem to take over the rest of your body, you're certainly a sight to behold. Sometimes, the King likes to take you from behind, just like he did that first time, except now you can feel your belly and tits rubbing back and forth along the sheets of your bed, the sensation of friction making you cum over and over and over.

Other times, the King likes you on your back. Your pups so big and so heavy and so numerous, that the weight of them presses down on your lungs so hard the edges of your vision begins to fade. Then he commands you to tell him exactly how it feels to be so perfectly bred and full of his pups. And it feels amazing. You've never felt so good in your life, a pampered and well kept royal breeding bitch. You weep tears of gratitude and joy and tell him exactly how it good it feels to be practically suffocated by your own womb. You howl weakly in ecstasy as your King calls you a good perfect boy, the best boy.

By the time you near your due date, you can only lay on your side, as the King ruts into you like an animal. Your womb now takes up most of the bed, your pups always moving and wriggling around, leaving you hyper aware of just how full of life you are, and you thank your King for the gift of breeding you every time you feel his arms wrap around your obscenely gravid form. Unless they knew you before, no one would be able to tell that just a few short months ago, you were the most capable and powerful Hunter in the Kings castle. Now you're just a womb covered in rows of teats with a barely visible head and arms and legs. Your appetite is endless, needing to be constantly fed to keep up with your pups demands. Even sometimes between meals, you've taken to suckling to the milk from your own tits in order to sate your intense hunger cravings.

When you feel your time nearing, you beg your King to fuck you into, and through, labor. He's more than happy to fulfill your request, having a sling made to hold your weight so he can fuck you from any position he likes. He puts you in a position that lets him drive into you deep and hard, that also makes the weight of your womb and all six pairs of your tits uncomfortably dragged down by gravity, and you're in a state of bliss. You've never felt more sure of your duty and loyalty to your King, you never felt so fulfilled in your place amongst the King's court as you do in the moment that he makes you cum so hard that your water breaks and you feel your first pups head move down to the base of your cervix. The King continues to fuck you through your contractions, the pleasure far overweighing any pain or discomfort in your mind.

In fact, when your first pups head begins to fill your birth canal, you've never felt so full, and you've never felt a high like it in your life. Every contraction feels like waves of pleasure washing over you, every push leaves you moaning in anticipation. The King encourages you, but doesn't help, that's much too far beneath his station. You'd rather show him what a good breeder you are, how you were meant to do this, so perfect and fertile, cumming as you birth his bastards all by yourself. As the first pups body shoots out of your cunt, your eyes roll back and you go limp as you cum so hard you pass out.

When you come to, there's two pups suckling at your chest, already covered in hair, and a third is already spreading you wide open as the royal midwife, only supposed to assist in the birthing of the King's heirs, stands ready to catch them. The King is still there and tells you he only called the midwife to check on the health of the pups, the rest has been all you. Your chest fills with the warmth of pride as you realize that even your body knows that you're such a perfect breeder, that you've practically birthed your 2nd and 3rd pups fully unconscious.

It won't be the last time you pass out, as you birth pup after pup after pup. Eventually you come to, and no longer feel the contractions or overwhelming urge to push. You're on your side, you feel your King's arms holding you from behind, and a comforting wiggling pressure on your front. As you open your eyes, you see ten pups in total in front of you, squealing and whining as they already fight to feed from all of your leaking teats. You feel so proud, and yet... a little spark of disappointment lights in your gut. Just ten pups?

You quietly moan, your voice spent, as the King wraps a hand around one of your tits and squeezes some milk out as he guides it towards one of the pups mouths. As the pup begins to suckle, you whine and lift your leg, careful not to disturb your pups as you grind your ass against your King. He chuckles in your ear as he obliges to your request and guides himself into you.

"What a good boy."

[wannabedaddy25-deactivated20200]

**This clip is not mine, as seen by the original tag!**

Sometimes you have to scour the internet to find old content that existed before the great tumblr purge. I’ve had so many people reply/message me about the gifs I made from this that I can’t help but post the full video

Honestly I still remember finding tumblr for the first time and seeing this clip, that slow reveal to a tight, stretch-marked belly. Her little moans as she presses her hands against it. It has always been some of my favorite content here, and I’m happy that it will rotate again :)

[heavywithourbabies]

Always reblog

[wallflower82346]

Imagine being this big for a year. The weight pressing down on your sensitive pussy. Every time you sit down the pressure sends intense pain and pleasure through your clit. You get wet at nearly every movement and you waddle everywhere. Strangers are constantly asking if they can feel the kicks seen through the thickest of sweaters. I want to write an entire story about this.

[katesbellyblog]

The way to be. 🥰

[heavywithourbabies]

It’s how delicately she has to pull up her top and all the groans of discomfort

[nightshadedumplings]

slowish rapid pregnancy on a long haul flight (9+) after coming home from vacation and you desperately hope you can make it off the plane before the baby comes.

OOOH I love this. Someone else made a post about something similar involving falling asleep on a plane and waking up with something moving in your belly, and it's been stuck in my brain ever since.

I don't even realize anything is happening to me for the first couple of hours. I start feeling a little bloated, but it's not very noticeable. It starts getting uncomfortable, but I dismiss it. It could be anything, and I'm sure it's not a big deal. I'm reading a book on my tablet with earbuds in, unaware of anything other than that and sometimes the pressure in my guts, and... soreness in my pecs?

I start paying attention, staring at my chest, which looks a little puffy, my tablet obscuring my view of the rest of my body, when it feels like my belly just brushed against my hand. I don't know how that could be, and with a sudden dread, I move my tablet and barely manage to keep myself quiet when I gasp at what I see: my stomach, once mostly flat, with a little belly fat, is obviously swollen, sticking out and filling out my once loose shirt. It looks like a five month pregnant belly.

But I don't even have sex, and I wasn't showing when I got on the plane. I'm squeezing my eyes shut and shaking my head, trying to understand what's happening while denying and willing away the obvious. I just can't be pregnant. Something inside me has been feeling like it's twitching, but it's just that, a twitch. It's not getting stronger, it can't.

Suddenly I realize other people can probably see my big belly, and I scramble to hide is under my jacket, thankfully deliberately oversized. I glance around as sneakily as I can, and I'm only a little relieved to find no one seems to be staring. I sit there with my arms folded over my belly, and while I can't feel the growth, I keep noticing that my arms are getting pushed further and further out over time. I just sit there, trying to comprehend what's happening and what to do about it.

Something thumps and rolls inside of me, and I gasp, earning a couple glances. I just make myself look calm and don't move so they'll look away.

It felt like... like something... no, it can't be that. I find myself rubbing my hands over the dome of my belly and stop myself. When I look down, I'm startled to notice that my chest is swollen, too. I adjust my jacket again, making sure to hide them and my growing belly, which now looks to be about six months along.

I look at my tablet and find that there are probably about five hours before we land. I try to shove away the panic building in me and just focus on getting there. Once we land, I can go home and figure out what's happening. I'm obviously not pregnant, it doesn't work like this, not at all. I didn't even have sex! I couldn't possibly be pregnant. Something else weird is happening.

I jump a little in my seat, thankfully no one noticed, when I feel harsher thuds and thumps inside of me, almost like something is... kicking. It feels like something is inside of my belly and it's kicking.

No, no, no. I shake it off and ignore it. I keep struggling to ignore my belly for what feels like eternity, but only an hour has passed. I look like I must be in the third trimester, and at some point my belly button even popped. I feel it under my hand as I try to keep my belly covered, holding back my gasps at every movement I feel. It's like an alien is moving inside of me, growing, making me bigger. I shift uncomfortably in my seat, the weight beginning to take a toll.

Another passes and I look really big. My jacket covers my belly, but it really doesn't hide it. If someone watched me long enough, they'd probably think I'm pregnant. Even as something visibly turns in my big, round belly, I tell myself it has to be something else. The bigger I get, the more I want to examine myself, but I'm in a window seat, and it'll draw attention if I get up to go to the bathroom, so I stay where I am.

I try watching a movie on my tablet, but all I can think about is the thing growing in my belly. I can feel it squirming, rolling and kicking inside of me, making me full and heavy with it.

I manage to pass another hour, and I'm starting to look like I might be full term. I'm barely holding back my grunts and whimpers as it thrashes inside of me, and I hold my arms around my middle to try and keep it still, or at least hidden. I can feel how heavy my chest has gotten, swollen tits hanging on top of my taut belly.

At the end of the next hour, I'm getting really uncomfortable, both from the size of myself and pain in my belly from how huge I am. I need this thing out of me, and the sooner I do, the better. I'm feeling really panicked by how huge I am, looking undoubtedly ready to pop, with something tenting and bulging out my stretched belly from within. My shirt won't stay down over it at all anymore, so I have to try even harder to keep my jacket over it.

The pain keeps getting worse, coming harder and faster over the next hour. I can't believe how big I've gotten, horrified by my own transformation. I'm in so much pain by the time the plane lands, I have no idea if I'll even be able to make it off.

It takes us thirty minutes to start leaving the plane, and I don't know how much more I can take. My mind is almost wiped with how much pain and discomfort I'm in, on top of the humiliation and fear. The person next to me has been avoiding staring at my belly for the last couple of hours and failing, my jacket doing nothing to hide the very pregnant shape of it.

My crotch is starting to feel damp and I'm sure I've pissed myself a little from the pressure. Somehow, I manage to stand when it's finally my turn, and I groan loudly as I have to lift my enormous, heavy body by pushing on the armrests with my hands. I feel like I'm going to burst at any second, and barely manage to grab my carry on. I waddle through the aisle, face red with embarrassment and exertion, but I have to get off this plane. Something is happening inside of me, and I feel like something is about to give.

The flight attendants try hard not to look at my belly as I disembark, but I can see the glances. I move as fast as I can, which is not fast at all, trying to get out of there. Once I make it into the airport, I begin walking past all of the terminals, focused on leaving. Only another pain grips my belly, far worse than the last, and I scream as I feel something burst inside of me, certain that I'm actually popping.

Instead, a cascade of fluid pours out from between my legs, soaking my pants and the floor below me. I'm stunned, but even more stunned when I feel another pain, making me scream and push at the same time. Everyone in the airport is staring at me, and a couple are starting to approach as I feel something bulging out of me and into my pants. My eyes go wide in horror as I finally let myself realize that I'm very, very pregnant, and now I'm giving birth, in front of countless strangers.

[gravidwithlore]

Something about wishing desperately to be hyper-fertile, but not knowing you already are.

The prince had been dreaming of being big and fat with monster babies for a long, long time before he actually put any plans into practice. Once, he had seen someone carrying a werewolf litter, barely able to walk around without help, slowly waddling side to side, arms just shy of reaching around their 6th month belly. Afterward he'd fantasized about being as big as them, and them he began to fantasize about being even bigger, even more full of big impossible babies, even more fertile than the most fertile broodmare in the kingdom.

Of course, how could he know that he already was more fertile than the most fertile broodmare in the kingdom? How could he know when he hadn't yet spread his legs and gotten bred full of babies yet? His extreme fertility hadn't had a chance to display itself yet, lurking underneath his very bones, waiting for just a hint of seed to irreversibly change his entire life.

But of course, the poor silly Prince knew none of this. And he wasn't going to indulge in his fantasy without proper preparation! He figured he'd have one shot to indulge himself, he'd get knocked up full of monster babies, his royal parents would whisk him away out of the public eye before he got big enough to start showing, he'd relish in his pregnancy in privacy, give birth to his brood, then be back home and ready to be shipped off in some boring political marriage where he'd probably give birth to one or two boring human legitimate heirs.

He gathered every type of fertility potion he could find, bribed the court wizard for fertility spells, traded for fertility boosting talismans and relics with merchants who arrived from far away lands, and consulted with street psychics and astronomers to predict the best time to conceive. And on a night, when the cool fall air sends a slight chill over his warm bare skin, when the moon is full, and the veil between worlds thins, the Prince takes them all. All the fertility potions and tinctures and spells and curses. He activates and adorns himself in a lingerie made up of all the fertility idols and talismans and trinkets he could track down, and he runs deep into the forbidden forest.

Just as he reaches the edge of the forest, everything hits him at once, sending him into an unnaturally induced heat of such intensity, that it was previously thought humans could not physically achieve such a heat. It's not long after that until he's whimpering and sobbing as he stumbles through the forest, the emptiness between his fluid drenched legs suddenly the most painful thing he's ever known. A kind monster, with sharp claws and strong powerful wings, upon smelling the Prince, tracks him down and immediately pins him to the ground and give the Prince what he's been needing for so very long. He barely feels relief at the feeling of the monsters thick seed filling his womb, before he's aching to be filled again. At the sound of heavy hooves stomping his way, he can't help but whine and spread his legs in need.

It's 3 days before the royal knights find him. There's no question as to what happened, but thankfully all the talismans and idols have been lost, spread throughout the forest, so there's no immediate evidence of his part in what transpired. He's barely intelligible when his parents question him, but thankfully they attribute it to trauma and exhaustion rather than the fact that he's so cum-drunk and blissed out of his mind that he barely knows where he is. When his belly starts to unmistakably curve out, he doesn't even need to convince his parents to send him away in secrecy.

With only a few servants, sworn to secrecy, to attend him, the Prince resolves to enjoy every little change of his body. With not much else to do, he takes to gazing at himself in the mirror several times a day, noting how his body is swelling so fast it already seems to be changing bit by bit every hour. The first time he finds himself no longer able to button his pants, the Prince practically cums on the spot. And when he noticed his chest is starting to soften and swell, he spends an entire day and night pleasuring himself with the custom made toys he'd managed to sneak away with him.

When he's almost 3 months along, when he's already swollen to look just past full term with a single human child, his chest having recently swollen into small sensitive breasts, his hips already widening and straining with the weight of his unborn children, the Prince finds a small idol on his window sill. It takes him a moment to recognize it as one of the many he had carried with him into the forest. He wasn't quite sure if it had worked or had even been real, but putting it on his shelf of a belly to fondly study it, he couldn't help but think that it definitely hadn't hurt. Besides a couple of claw marks on it, it looked mostly unscathed. The Prince couldn't see any movement or any sign of who or what could have left this on the windowsill, but so happy in his pregnant bliss, he wasn't all that concerned. He smiled and put the idol on his night stand. Maybe it would help him through the rest of the pregnancy too.

A couple of weeks later, a growth spurt leaving him almost twice as big as when he'd found the idol, he found another gift on his windowsill. A necklace. Supposedly a very powerful fertility charm, it had been his favorite of all the trinkets he'd gathered. He'd thought it had looked particularly attractive against his collar bones the night he'd set out into the forest, and putting it on again, he found it looked even more attractive nestled in between his plush tits. The Prince smiled as he looked out the window, he still didn't see who had left another gift for him, but regardless he playfully blew a kiss as he invitingly squeezed his milky breasts together, showing off just how good his necklace looked when paired with his new cleavage.

After that, every week, as the Prince continued to grow and enjoy his absurdly fertile body, he continued to find a new 'gift' on the windowsill. As he grew his collection of return trinkets, his attempts to flirt with his secret admirer grew more and more desperate. His hormones were catching up to him, raging through his body, making him almost as horny as he'd been that night that he'd practically overdosed on fertility magic. He could feel that something was watching him, and it only fanned the flames burning molten hot insides of him. His servants thought him insane, as he took to constantly talking to the presence watching him, not knowing but feeling like it could hear him. He'd rub his belly and tell it how big was growing with their giant brood, how he had gotten so bug he couldn't touch himself anymore, couldn't even wrap his hands around his belly anymore. When his milk came in, early from all the stimulation from obsessively fondling his ever growing tits, he teased his ever-watching secret admirer about how his body had been 'ruined,' how their seed had made his body perfect, how he was sure he'd have milk to spare once their brood had suckled their fill from his giant teats. As his brood started to move, he moaned and told them all about how he couldn't wait to push their big monster babies out of his tiny human cunt, to spread his legs, just as he had not so many nights ago, and scream his small army into the world, and teased about how many times he'd cum like a whore as their birth canal was filled over and over again by their big monster brood.

One night, as the Prince noticed another gift laying on the windowsill, he also realized he couldn't lift himself up anymore. He should have been on bed rest weeks, if not months, ago, but he'd gotten a special pleasure out of waddling around full of his big monster babies, enjoying the way he could feel every step reverberate through his thighs, ass, womb, and tits. But this time, he genuinely couldn't get himself out of bed. However, it was also the moment he realized he was big enough that he could get enough friction and pleasure from humping his enormous baby belly. Present momentarily forgotten, the Prince immediately got to work chasing his climax, one hand rubbing the hypersensitive skin of his belly, the other kneading a hypersensitive nipple between his fingers.

"Is the gift not to your liking?" The dark figure, with sharp claws and powerful wings, that oh so kind monster who'd been the first to help the desperate royal slut that night in the woods, perched in the window. The brood in the Prince's overtaxed womb began to move all at once, as if recognizing one of their other parents. The Prince moaned in pleasure at the sensation, now feverishly doing his best to get off by humping his jostling womb.

"Fuck. Now. Me." He managed to huff out in between hip thrusts. Not that he could really 'thrust' the heavy weight of his gravid womb almost pinning him down. The monster crept forward, eerily silent despite their size.

"How would you be comfortable?" They said after a moment's hesitation.

"I don't care about comfort, I just need you to breed me." The Prince sobbed, as he lost energy and gave up on grinding against his belly. He wasn't entirely familiar with monster anatomy, but he could tell when they smirked and raised an eyebrow. "I know I'm already- just please." He begged.

His sire complied, roughly flipping the Prince around onto his hand and knees and entered him in one swift motion. His belly, even partially flattened against the bed, was still big enough that he couldn't fully balance on his hand and knees anymore, so he braced his hands against the headboard and rocked back on his knees, which had the added benefit of giving him more leverage to grind down on his monstrous baby daddy's cock. As his lover made him cum over and over, the Prince couldn't help but cry from simultaneous relief at finally being fucked again and the overstimulation of his own body. There was no position he could be fucked in that didn't make him extremely aware of how impossobly full and overripe his womb was, and how his body had swelled to match it, his practically full to bursting teats squirting milk with every thrust, his thighs and ass spilling out over giant clawed hands.

At some point, in his cock drunk state, the Prince admitted that he didn't ever want to give birth, that he didn't want to go back to 'normal,' he didn't want to be married off to some human noble, to birth and raise a measly few human babies. If he wasn't already ruined forever, being fucked by his lover again while so deliciously full of their offspring had absolutely ruined him for anyone or anything else. He needed to stay like this fucked, fertile, and full of giant monster babies for the rest of his life. When he woke up the next morning, the Prince didn't remember saying any of that out loud. He was mostly upset that the bed next to him was empty, the only evidence his love had visited being the trinket still at the window and the cum still dripping out from between his legs.

He blinked away his tears over breakfast, hoping he would be visited again at night. But night fell, and there was no winged visitor at the window, not even a trinket left for him. The Prince cried as he ground against the weight of his womb again, any orgasms wrung out of him unsatisfying and only leaving him feeling emptier than before. But, at breakfast the next morning, word arrived that his parents would be arriving for a visit that very same day. Despite his heartbreak, the Prince did his best to make himself presentable for the King and Queen. Which considering the state of him, what a supernatural idol of fertility he'd become in just a few short months, he was nowhere near royal standards of presentability.

His mother almost fainted when she saw him, and his father looked like he was about to cry. The Prince's depressed energy from the rejection of their monster lover seemed to help seal the image of their poor hapless son, bred and ruined by the monsters of the forest against his will.

"We've found a match." His mother said, once his parents had pulled themselves together.

"They're a king." His father said grimly, obviously not as happy with the match as his mother was pretending to be.

"So I suppose once I-" The Prince glanced down, already missing the babies crowded in overpacked womb and willed himself not to cry. "-I suppose I'll be sent off to marry before word gets out then?"

Neither of his parents took to obvious argument bait, instead they glanced at each other in an expression the Prince couldn't read.

"No. You'll be married tonight."

The Prince tuned out his parents after that. As if his heartbreak wasn't enough, now he was to be wed to someone who would inevitably look at him with disgust and shame as he waddled down the aisle. It was entirely possible his parents had been so desperate to be rid of their embarrassment of a son, that his spouse to be probably didn't even know the full story. They probably expected a perfectly demure princeling, jusy cutely rounding out with a single human baby, maybe twins. Would they break the deal once they saw the Prince, struggling to waddle their obscenely gravid body down the aisle? Or would they grit their teeth and resent the Prince for the rest of their married lives? And what about his babies? Would their future spouse make him abandon his brood, the piece of his heart that belonged to them already gone forever? Or worse, would they allow him to keep them, but always treat his half-monster offspring as lesser than the dirt on their shoes?

His parents had done their best to have the royal tailors make wedding garb that would fit the Prince, but of course, it simply served to make him look more obscene than he already did. He'd already insisted on walking himself down the aisle, turning down his parents suggestions of assistance. He simply wanted to get this over with, and maybe he wouldn't come out the other end completely miserable with his lot in life.

When the doors opened to the chapel, and he saw who was waiting for them at the end of the aisle, all his fears and worries washed away. At his wide-eyed expression, his parents were quick to speak.

"The King of Monsters, apparently." His father said darkly, eyes narrowed as they fell upon sharp claws.

"We should have told you earlier, I just-" His mother broke into sobs as she caught sight of powerful wings.

"It's alright Mother." The Prince squeezed his parents hands in reassurance as he got lost in the kind eyes waiting for him at the end of the chapel.

"He's so brave." His mother sobbed as her son waddled his way down the aisle.

"He'll be alright, my love." His father tried to convince both himself and his wife.

The Prince smiled, and put on a big show of putting his fertility on display. He'd worn the necklace that looked so perfect above the teats barely contained by his loosened wedding corset. His shifting brood, as if knowing their sire was back again, began to stretch their cramped living quarters, which made the garment barely stretching to cover the fecund orb in front of him ride up, exposing the flesh littered in stretch marks. His love, otherwise unnaturally still as they waited, stretched out their big clawed hand to help him the last few steps.

"I thought you'd left forever." The Prince whispered to them.

"My apologies, my little Prince. There were some duties that I needed to attend to." They replied warmly, their other hand running along to the side of his belly to cup it the bottom of it for support.

The Prince spent the rest of his wedding on cloud nine, hoping he didn't just wake up to find this was all just some elaborate wet dream. The only thing that could make the night better would be if his new spouse could put another brood into him.

"I'm glad all those spells and fertility trinkets worked out so well. I couldn't have hoped for it to have ended up anymore amazing than it already is." The Prince said as he fondly rubbed the swell of his belly as his spouse helped him out of his too tight wedding clothes.

"Spells? Trinkets?" His love asked skeptically.

"Yes, all the stuff I had on. It was to help boost my fertility so I would, well-" He gestured to himself. His spouse chuckled amusedly.

"The spells and trinkets had nothing to do with it my dearest princeling. Have you wondered yet, why the King of Monsters themselves was the first to find you, that night in the forest?"

"Lucky chance, perhaps?"

"No, my love. All those little tricks and knick-knacks did was put you into heat like an animal. This-" They gestured to the Prince's gravid body. "- was all you. I could smell how fertile you were miles away. I was already planning on how I could court and breed you, when you wandered into my path, begging to be filled with my offspring. And the offspring of about every monster in the forest for that matter." They chuckled affectionately.

"Wait, so then why were you leaving them for me as gifts if you don't think they did anything?" The Prince put his hands on his hips. His monster spouse shrugged.

"From what I know of human royals, you're very possessive of your little knick-knacks. I assumed you'd simply want them back. Trust me, you would have swollen to this size with or without them my love."

"I guess you have all the time in the world to prove me wrong then." The Prince smirked.

A year later, again swamped by the sheer size of his womb, impossibly even more full of babies than before, and still nursing his big winged half-human children from his massive over-producing tits, the Prince Consort couldn't help but admit that maybe his spouse was right.

[nightshadedumplings]

A man in his forties wakes up and finds himself a little bloated after a strange dream, but it's not very noticeable on his classic dad bod. His chest is sore, but he doesn't think much of it. Finding himself ravenous, he goes into the kitchen and begins devouring a box of donuts, right there at the counter.

His three roommates come in one by one, laughing and poking fun at him for what a pig he's being. As embarrassing as it is, he can't stop eating. He cuts himself a huge slice of cake and then another after he's finished that one, and then he doesn't even bother slicing more off and eats the rest. His friends start poking and rubbing his swollen belly, now obviously protruding more than usual. They tease him, saying he must be pregnant, and calling him a daddy.

Despite the embarrassment, he can't stop eating. His friends start helping, making him sandwiches and cooking pasta. He ends up on the couch, his feet and ankles inexplicably sore from standing. A sliver of hairy skin is visible where his shirt is starting to ride up, and more is slowly revealed as he keeps eating. His friends have taken to feeding him, all of them strangely eager to stuff him. They notice before he does that his chest is getting swollen, his once soft pecs turning into proper man tits. His belly is firm and round, making him look like he really is pregnant, about six months along.

His friends get bolder, rubbing his belly and making fun of him for being such a hungry, fat, pregnant daddy. All he can do is groan and take it, a hand on the side of his burgeoning gut as they continue filling him up. His belly button has been pressed flat from the pressure inside of him, but he can't see it past his own swell.

They just keep feeding him and he just keeps growing, and as humiliated and baffled as he is, he's desperate to keep eating, to keep getting bigger. They continue fattening him up, most of the growth occurring in his belly. His belly button has turned into an outie, and there's a dark line forming down the center of his heavy mass, only just visible through all of the dark hair covering his stretching skin. It feels like there are butterflies fluttering around inside of him, and he almost unconsciously begins rubbing his increasingly swollen belly.

His shirt is no longer able to cover his belly at all, leaving it completely bare and exposed, seeming to excite his friends even more. They rub and kiss it, lightly pressing on it and asking him if he's felt any kicks yet. One rubs and presses on his bulging belly button before pressing his lips to it, parting them to lick and suck the protrusion, making him gasp and moan. Another lifts his shirt over his fat tits, his thickened nipples hardening from the exposure.

"Look at his big daddy tits," one of his friends says, cupping and squeezing them both before leaning in and sucking one, occasionally switching back and forth between them. He moans, finding his tits are so much more sensitive than they've ever been. The fluttering inside of him has gotten stronger, like something is moving and thumping around inside of his belly, as if he's really pregnant.

No matter how much they stuff him, he never gets enough. He's getting huge, now, looking past due with a pair of twins. The movement is getting stronger with eat bite he takes, and his friends can now feel it from the outside.

"I felt a kick," one of them says excitedly, feeling all around for more movements. "Feel that? Your baby's moving."

"O-oh god..." he groans, holding the sides of his belly as the kicks get stronger. "I-it's... it's a baby...! Fuck, it's inside me...! Oh, fuck, I'm... I'm pregnant!" he gasps as the reality of his sudden pregnancy begins to really dawn on him.

As horrified and shocked as he is, the hunger is stronger. His belly needs to keep growing, and he needs to keep eating to feed the brood he's carrying. There's also a strange arousal and thrill as he thinks about how huge and pregnant he is, and how much bigger he could get. He has to get bigger.

They feed and feed and feed him, while one of them continues sucking his big daddy milkers. They've grown into an actual pair of teats, preparing to fill with milk to feed his litter when they arrive. The movement within his pregnant belly is now plainly visible, the surface undulating with activity. He's so big, he looks like he should have been in labor with quadruplets weeks ago, and yet he still can't stop eating.

"You're getting so fat, you just might pop," one of his friends teases, gently pressing on his belly and making his babies kick even harder. He groans, completely overwhelmed and taken over by his pregnancy.

"You're making them kick... oh, fuck, they're really kicking...! God, I have babies kicking in my belly! Oh, my god, I'm really carrying...! I'm so fucking pregnant!" he gasps, still struggling to wrap his mind around being massively pregnant.

"That's the biggest daddy belly I've ever seen. You're gonna break the couch if you don't stop growing soon. You probably can't even walk. We'll have to roll you out of here," his friend says with a laugh.

He's truly becoming almost big and round enough that they could actually feasibly roll him. He looks like he's heavily pregnant with an absurdly huge set of extremely overdue septuplets, and when he starts feeling pain gripping his womb, he fears that he might actually burst.

"Oh god, no, it's too big! Fuck, they're gonna... gonna pop me! I'm gonna BURST!" he screams as his belly contracts harshly and painfully, and something gives from inside. A torrent of fluid practically explodes out from between his legs as his water breaks. The man sucking his tits is finally rewarded as his milk lets down into his mouth.

"It's time," one of them says with a grin.

"His milk's come in," the one feeding at his teats breaks to inform them, and one of the others immediately takes the other side, latching and suckling fervently.

"Fuck, they're... they're nursing...! Fuck, I'm nursing them...!" he groans, both aroused and horrified by this new reality.

"Yeah, you're a fat, milky, nursing daddy," his third friend says, still feeding him between rubbing his belly to feel the movement and progression of his contractions. They're already coming hard and fast, making the newly gravid daddy cry out from the intensity and pain.

"Time to push."

Screaming, he pushes hard, feeling the mass that's been sitting low in his hips move down, already bulging out of him. He's leaned back as far as he can to make room for the birth, and the friend between his legs lifts them both up onto his shoulders to mimic stirrups. The position heightens the humiliation, and it turns him on a shocking amount to be on display and laboring like this.

"It's... coming! It's coming... out of ME!" he shouts, pushing hard, the head slowly working its way into a crown. His friend can see it isn't human by the strange color, but something prevents him from being alarmed or even startled. It's also massive, the bulge of his pussy impossibly large.

"I'm having it...! I'm... having a baby!" the birthing daddy screams as he pushes out the head of his unexpected firstborn. It's ridiculously huge, and obviously alien looking.

"Keep pushing. The head is out. You're almost there. Your baby is almost here."

Panting, he groans and shouts as his belly contracts and he's forced to bear down, hard. The huge shoulders bulge out of him before popping out, one right after the other, immediately followed by the rest of the strange, inhuman body with a gush of fluids. His friend catches the enormous alien baby, with its big, bulbous head and mass of tentacle limbs.

"Congratulations. You're a daddy now," his friend says, grinning as he holds up the wailing newborn for him to see, his udders spraying strong streams of milk into his friends' hungry mouths at the sound of his newborn crying.

His belly doesn't appear noticeably smaller, and lurches in every direction with the movement of his alien brood. There's a long way to go before he'll even come close to being done.

[solusex]

POV: You’ve been mating regularly with the demon lord.

Capable hands help ease you onto the bed, the silken sheets cool and inviting beneath your still-warm skin. You sink into the soft mattress with a soft groan, your enlarged belly and breasts settling like weights on either side of you.

The new robes feel luxurious against your body as they caress your curves through every movement. However, the once novel experience of wearing them has become everyday wear now that you've made your choice. The neckline dips scandalously low, putting your breasts on lewd display. The skirt rides up your thighs, painting you in a state of debauched elegance.

Propped up on the pillow, you let your eyes drift shut, still dazed from the demonstration of your master's power and influence. Physically spent yet mentally swirling with dark possibilities of what's to come.

Though the exhaustion tugs at you, it can't snuff out the embers of lust smoldering deep within. Images of the demon's muscular form loom in your mind, the memory of his touch branding your skin like a searing brand. Your body aches for more of his dark blessings even as your mind recoils at the depravity of your desire.

As you lay on the bed, still trying to catch your breath and gather your thoughts amid the haze of exhausted elation, a sudden, sharp cramp seizes your swollen belly. Your eyes shoot open as you feel a strange, wriggling sensation coming from within your core. You can't help but gasp aloud at the bizarre movement, a confusing mix of fear and dark fascination gripping your heart.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, you let your hands drift down to the massive dome of your belly. Splaying your fingers wide, you begin to explore the contours of this new life growing inside you. And then - you feel it again. A distinct, purposeful wriggle of movement, powerful enough to make the taut skin of your stomach distort and ripple under your touch.

Your hand flies to your mouth as the horrible realization dawns on you. Gilebren's "blessing" has already begun to take hold in earnest. The "something" in your belly is no longer just a mass of demonic essence; it is a child, a new life, growing at a terrifying rate. And judging by the vigor of the movements, it clearly isn’t human, if not fully demon.

Revulsion and wonder war within you as you lay paralyzed on the bed, your hand still splayed across the wriggling mass of life within your unnaturally swollen belly. Part of you recoils in disgust and fear of the eldritch abomination you helped to create. And yet another, darker part, exults in the profound depravity and transgression of this violation of life and nature. Your womb now a fertile garden for demonic growth.

As the realization of your predicament sinks in, you can't help but let out a shuddering gasp, your body responding instinctively to the dark thrill of being bred by such a powerful demon lord. The sensation of new life wriggling within your swollen belly sends electric jolts of forbidden excitement racing through your veins.

Your nipples stiffen into aching, diamond-hard peaks beneath the silken fabric of your robe, straining against the delicate material. The remembered pleasure of Gilebren's demonic mouth and tongue suckling at your breasts flashes through your mind, and you feel your sex grow damp with renewed arousal.

Panting softly, eyes fluttering shut as you surrender to the intoxicating mix of emotions and sensations overwhelming your body, you bring trembling hands up to cup the heavy globes of your breasts. Your fingers sink into the plush, succulent flesh as you knead and massage the large mounds, feeling them yield beneath your touch.

As your hands work over your chest, you can't help but imagine how much larger and heavier they will grow as the demonic child within you develops at a terrifying pace. The thought of nursing your own unholy spawn, of being a dairy cow for both your master and his demonic son, sends a fresh gush of moisture flooding your already soaked sex.

You squirm uncomfortably on the bed, legs shifting restlessly beneath the silken sheets. Your thighs squeeze and rub together, desperately trying to alleviate the aching emptiness you feel between them. But every movement only serves to heighten your arousal, the slick heat of your dripping sex growing more insistent with each passing moment.

The wriggling of the demon-spawn in your belly grows more vigorous, as if sensing your heightened state of excitement. You can feel the weight of it shifting within you, the skin stretching tauter to accommodate the rapid growth. It's a constant, lewd reminder of your role as a vessel for your master's pleasure.

No matter how you try to stifle it, a breathy whimper escapes your lips as your hands roam greedily over your changing body. They map the swell of your breasts, the curves of your hips, the taut dome of your gravid belly. Each touch sends sparks of liquid fire crackling through your nerve endings, stoking the flames of your all-consuming lust.

Lost in the haze of sensation, you find yourself unconsciously grinding your hips into the mattress, seeking some measure of relief from the ache of your need. The damp patch beneath you grows larger as your sex drools freely onto the silken sheets, painting them with your arousal.

Your mind churns with a fever dream of debauched images - of being mounted and bred over and over by Gilebren's massive, muscular form. Of nursing demons at your pendulous breasts as your belly swells with each new brood. The thought of being a mindless, perpetually pregnant slave to your master's appetite, existing only to serve his whims and satisfy his infernal lusts.

It's too much, too overwhelming. The urge to touch and pleasure yourself becomes irresistible, your body moving on its own accord now. One hand drifts down to the hem of your robe, inching it upwards to expose the dripping juncture between your thighs as the other squeezes your aching nipple through the robe's gossamer-thin fabric.

You know you should resist, should try to retain some shred of your dignity and self-restraint. But in this moment, lost to your own seething, demon-tainted desires, all you can do is whimper and writhe and let the pleasure consume you, even as the last of your sanity burns away like a candle in the wind - you belong utterly to Gilebren, mind, body and soul.

[crookedsuits]

Pregnant college guy (maybe with multiples) where he's too big to properly reach his cock, and even if he could his pregnancy would still be driving his libido through the roof. He doesn't have anyone to give him a helping hand, either.

He's forced to waddle around pitching a tent near constantly, and the only times he ever gets relief are when something turns him on enough to make him cum hands-free (not difficult) or when he gets kicked in the prostate, which means rarely do his orgasms have a timing anywhere close to convenient. One time he blew his load in his sweatpants in front of the whole class during a presentation.

He doesn't have the time (or energy, changing is exhausting at his size) to be changing his ruined pants constantly, so he's had to accept the fact that he's just going to have to walk around with an obvious cumstain on his crotch a significant portion of the time.

Ollie was now a week from his due date. With triplets, that was quite impressive. He had kept studying through all the morning sickness, back and pelvic ache, all the uncomfortable feelings and painful baby kicks. He had kept studying even through the constant hard-ons that he could not keep under control. He had always had something of a pregnancy kink and now that he experienced it himself, no matter how accidental and ill-timed, he could not be hornier.

But during the last couple of months, his belly had grown into such proportions that there was no chance for him to reach his cock to get off. And reaching behind himself to play with his ass was out of question as the position was impossible for him to sustain.

He could go a while without getting hard, but the moment he caught a glimpse of his gigantic mound of a belly either from a mirror or just by looking down, his cock would spring to life. If his hand landed to rub his over-stuffed stomach, his cock would twitch. If someone else brushed or bumped against his belly in the cramped hallways, jostling it and oftentimes waking the babies, he would start leaking precum instantly.

Ollie loved being so incredibly full, he loved every second of it, except the humiliation of being so visibly aroused at school. And especially having an orgasm at school.

His belly had dropped significantly, and as he prepared to head to the classroom, he could not fight the urge to gaze upon his distended flesh from the mirror. His t-shirt was stretched over his belly so tight, but still it wasn’t able to cover the lower third of the dome. His stretch-marks were visible for anyone to see as his belly hung heavy over his hips.

”Ahh shit…” Ollie moaned as he felt his cock instantly get a hot rush of blood and rise to stand against the front of his sweatpants. He spent a little too long admiring his form and eventually had to rush out to make it in time. He was to give a presentation today. As he waddled through the hallways, hands holding onto his belly to support it in his haste, he could see everyone’s eyes turn from his belly to his crotch, as his cock bulged hard and ready to go in his pants. It was brushing against the underside of his belly and with every step Ollie was gasping under his breath.

He made it to the classroom and was hoping to sit down as the weight of his babies were straining his back, but the professor asked him to step to the front of the class to start his presentation on modern literature.

So he did, quickly taking out his notes. As he stood at the front of the class, he could see the uncomfortable faces of everyone, as they stared awkwardly at his bulging belly and the cock straining against his pants.

”Ah… alright,” Ollie began, trying to compose himself. He glanced at the professor, who was sitting at his desk with a slight smirk on his face. Then his gaze turned downwards as he gathered his thoughts. The whole process was interrupted however, as his babies kicked against his skin, visibly making his skin bulge.

”Ohh,” Ollie moaned both in pain and in pleasure. He couldn’t stop himself from bringing a hand to rub at the spot that had been kicked, and his cock twitched in his pants. ”Ahh…” he breathed out silently, his hips bucking up ever so slightly.

”So the book I chose for my presentation today…” Ollie started but people hardly listened as everyone’s focus was on the light speck of something wet at the bulge of Ollie’s crotch. His cock was lazily weeping precum so that it had soaked through his pants already.

”Ah…” he stammered, feeling people’s eyes on him, eating up his shameful arousal. Some were snickering, one or two were secretly filming him under their tables, and some looked disgusted. Ollie’s breath hitched as he squirmed under everyone’s stare and the friction had his cock twitch.

His hips moved as if on their own as they bucked upwards to grind his hard cock against the bottom swell of his huge belly.

He could feel his back spasm as the babies kicked against his organs deep inside him. If he had looked, he would have seen everyone in the classroom staring at him with gaping mouths

”Ah… ohhh… oh shit!” Ollie gasped as his hips bucked again and he grabbed his belly to support it. There he was, standing infront of his classmatew, fucking his hard shaft against the bulging underside of his over-stuffed pregnant belly. He dropped his notes as his hips moved on their own accord. Both of his hands now held his belly tight as he thrusted his cock against the mound. He was almost pushing his huge belly downwards, grabbing it hard and meeting the movement of his cock with his pregnant bump.

He was delirious. The friction on his cock was so delicious. He glanced up through half-lidded eyes and met the gaze of one of his classmates. The boy was grinning wildly, and Ollie saw him touch himself underneath the desk.

His pace was picking up speed. Pushing his belly downwards to fuck his cock against it properly, Ollie moaned and panted. His babies were causing a ruckus inside and his shirt had rolled up to reveal his bulging belly in all of its glory.

”Ohhhhh!” He yelled out loud as with a final thrust of his hips his cock erupted into a mindblowing orgasm. He bent over his belly, thrusting his cock into the bottom of it, and whimpered quietly in his bliss.

Minutes passed and slowly it dawned on Ollie what he had done. As he rose slowly, he was met with the concequences as he looked into the eyes of his classmates. He had just orgasmed in front of everyone.

The professor spoke:

”Thank you, Ollie, for your presentatioon.”