Untitled

[flnpushy-deactivated20250719]

Do you have an unedited video of the "Final Coached Video .MP4" it's the exact same that I watched long time ago. If you have the original, kindly link a Google docs or mega link to the video. It's for my "Archive collection" of birth videos

The Birth of Leliana - Breech Birth Network

From Atlanta, back to Asheville … Jessica’s baby remained persistently breech at term, and she was unable to find a provider in South Caroli

i screen recorded from this link

[shades-cobalt]

So hot.

2/2

[preggolover-1]

Shortly after sex, her water broke 🥵

[lilly-aurora77]

A Story for the Classroom

The classroom smelled of dry-erase markers and crayons, a comforting, mundane scent that felt like a different planet. Katherine stood at the front, her hands resting on the slight softness that still clung to her belly, a phantom weight. The twenty-three faces of her third-graders looked up at her, a mix of shy smiles and outright grins.

“We’re so glad you’re back, Ms. Evans!” chirped a girl named Lily, voicing the sentiment of the class.

A chorus of agreement followed, then the inevitable question, launched from the back row by Leo, who had never possessed a filter. “Did it hurt? Having the baby?”

A ripple of giggles went through the room. Katherine smiled, a picture of serenity in her floral-print dress. “It was hard work,” she said, her voice light and warm. “But so, so worth it.”

“What’s his name?” “Can we see a picture?” “Was he a good baby?”

She pulled up a photo on her phone, showing them the placid, sleeping face of her son, Henry, bundled in a blue knit blanket. “His name is Henry. And he’s the best baby.”

She told them a simple story. A story of waiting, of going to the hospital, of a doctor who helped her, and then, after some time, a beautiful baby boy. She used words like “strong” and “healthy.” She saw their innocent faces, their belief in the simple, orderly nature of the world, and she tucked the real story away, deep in a vault within her mind. They didn’t need to know. They couldn’t know.

What she didn’t tell them was that the “hard work” had felt like being split open from the inside.

It had started on a Tuesday, three weeks before her due date. A low, persistent ache in her lower back that she’d mistaken for a muscle strain from grading papers hunched over her desk. By midnight, the truth had arrived with a brutal, oceanic force. These were not the gentle, building waves she’d read about in her pregnancy books. These were jackhammers to her spine, radiating through her hips like someone was trying to snap her pelvis in two.

When she and her husband, Mark, arrived at the hospital, she was already soaked through her clothes, her knuckles white where she gripped the car door handle. The triage nurse, a woman with a kind but businesslike demeanor, had checked her. Four centimeters. But Katherine could see the flicker of something—concern?—in the nurse’s eyes as she palpated her belly and watched the monitor.

“Baby’s a little… comfy,” the nurse said, a phrase that Katherine would later understand was a grotesque understatement.

She was admitted, changed into a hospital gown that felt like paper, and strapped to a fetal monitor. The contractions came in a relentless, overlapping cascade. There was no peak and ebb. There was only a plateau of pure, unadulterated agony that would climb, then stay, then climb again. Her back felt like it was being crushed in a vice. Every few minutes, she would vomit, her body convulsing as another wave hit.

By the time she was at six centimeters, she was beyond words. She had envisioned a natural birth, maybe some nitrous oxide, moving through the pain. That fantasy was incinerated. She screamed for the epidural. The anesthesiologist, a calm man who seemed to be moving through molasses, had her sit on the edge of the bed, curved over her contracting belly, while she shook so violently Mark had to hold her shoulders to keep her from falling.

The epidural offered a blessed, merciful subtraction of sensation from her abdomen. But it did not touch the back labor. It was a separate entity, a malevolent presence that had taken up residence in her spine. She could feel the pressure of each contraction, the baby’s head grinding against her sacrum with the force of tectonic plates.

Hours passed. The night shift changed. Her room was a blur of blinking machines and hushed voices. A new doctor, a stern woman with a sharp haircut, came in to examine her. She had the obstetrician’s version of bad news written on her face.

“Katherine, you’re fully dilated,” Dr. Harrow said, snapping off her glove. “But the baby is posterior. Sunny-side up. He’s facing your belly instead of your back. That’s why the back labor has been so severe. His head is… well, it’s not in the ideal position to fit through your pelvis.”

She explained the options. They could try to have Katherine move into different positions—hands and knees, side-lying—to encourage him to turn. They could try a manual rotation. Or, they could proceed, but it would be a difficult push.

Katherine, delirious with pain and exhaustion, just wanted it to end. “Let’s just do it,” she rasped. “Let’s get him out.”

What followed was not the empowered, focused pushing she’d seen in birthing classes. It was a surrender.

The bed was dismantled. Stirrups were raised. Her legs, which had felt like her own just moments before, were now heavy, foreign objects strapped into lithotomy stirrups, splaying her open and vulnerable under the harsh, white surgical lights. A nurse placed a rolled towel behind her back, arching her spine, tilting her pelvis upward. She was completely exposed, pinned in place like a specimen. The position was clinical, efficient, designed for the doctor’s access, not for her comfort or the natural mechanics of birth.

“Okay, Katherine, on the next contraction, I need you to hold your breath and push,” Dr. Harrow instructed. “Push like you’re having the biggest bowel movement of your life.”

When the next wave of pressure, still accompanied by that screaming back pain, seized her, she tried. She bore down with everything she had, her face turning crimson, the veins in her neck standing out like cords. She felt a tearing, burning sensation at her perineum that was entirely new and horrifying.

“Good, good,” the doctor said, not looking up. “Again. Push again.”

She pushed through one contraction, then another. Then an hour passed. Then two.

The lithotomy position, she would later learn, had narrowed her pelvic outlet even further, working against her. Each push felt like trying to force a boulder through a keyhole. The baby’s posterior position meant his wider, un-flexed head was getting stuck against her pubic bone. Every contraction, Mark would hold one leg, a nurse the other, and she would scream—a raw, guttural sound she didn’t recognize as her own voice—and push until the world went white.

“I can’t,” she sobbed between contractions, her body shaking with exhaustion and adrenaline. “I can’t do it.”

“You are doing it,” Dr. Harrow said, her voice a steely anchor. “But we need to get him past this point. His heart rate is starting to show some stress. I’m going to have to do an episiotomy to give him more room.”

She didn’t ask. She told. Katherine felt the sting of the local anesthetic, then the terrifying, unfeeling snip of scissors. It was a sound she knew would haunt her. It didn’t matter. The pain of the back labor and the pressure in her pelvis was so immense that the cut was just a footnote in her agony.

The pushing intensified. The room shrank to the burning ring of fire between her legs and the red, screaming effort in her head. The doctor was leaning over her now, her face a mask of concentration. A nurse was pressing on Katherine’s upper belly, a fundal push, bearing down with her full weight with each contraction, adding an external pressure to the internal maelstrom.

“His head is right there,” Dr. Harrow said. “He’s crowning. But he’s stuck. I need one more. One more massive push. I’m going to try to guide him.”

Katherine gathered the last dregs of her strength. She felt like she was being torn asunder. With a scream that was pure, primal fury, she pushed with such force that her vision blackened at the edges. She felt a series of catastrophic, burning pops as her tissues stretched and tore beyond the episiotomy. She was vaguely aware of the doctor’s hands working, a swift, forceful rotation, a final, brutal effort to free the head from the impasse.

And then, with a sudden, gushing release, the head was born.

One more push, and the rest of him slid out in a rush of fluid and blood. The sound that followed was not the gentle cry she’d imagined, but a furious, indignant wail.

A baby. A furious, purple, screaming baby.

They placed him on her chest, a warm, slick, writhing weight. She was sobbing, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of the ordeal. Her legs, still strapped in the stirrups, were shaking uncontrollably. Mark was crying, kissing her forehead, saying her name over and over.

But it wasn’t over.

Dr. Harrow, her forearms glistening with blood, was working intently between her legs. The cord had been cut, Henry taken to the warmer by a nurse, and Katherine felt a strange, absent pressure as the doctor delivered the placenta. Then came the repair.

“You have a third-degree tear,” Dr. Harrow said, her voice now calm and clinical as she began to stitch. “We’ll get you all fixed up.”

Katherine barely felt the needles. Her body was in a state of shock, a hollow numbness that was a welcome reprieve from the fire. She turned her head, watching the nurses weigh and measure her son. He was 8 pounds, 3 ounces. His head, she would later see, was molded into a severe, cone-like shape from its hours of battering against her pelvis.

Later, in the hushed quiet of the postpartum room, with Henry finally sleeping in a clear plastic bassinet beside her, the reality of it settled into her bones. She couldn’t walk to the bathroom without a nurse. Her body felt like a battlefield, littered with the wreckage of the event. She looked at her son—his tiny, perfect fingers, his dark fringe of hair—and a complex wave of love and trauma washed over her. She had done the hardest thing she had ever done. She had survived something brutal.

Now, standing in her classroom, she looked at Leo’s curious face, at Lily’s sweet smile. They saw the calm, put-together teacher with the beautiful baby photo.

“Did you cry, Ms. Evans?” asked a quiet girl named Sarah.

Katherine’s smile was gentle, the practiced smile of someone who had rebuilt herself from the ground up. “A little,” she said. “Happy tears. When I saw him for the first time, they were the happiest tears.”

She let them coo over the photo a moment longer, then clapped her hands softly. “Alright, scholars, let’s get our math journals out. We have work to do.”

They scrambled back to their desks, their curiosity sated by her simple, pleasant story. They returned to their world of fractions and book reports, where pain was a scraped knee and babies arrived in a clean, quiet moment of joy.

Katherine turned to the whiteboard, picking up a marker. She took a deep breath, the phantom ache of her still-healing body a secret she bore with the quiet, fierce pride of a survivor. She would never tell them the truth. Some stories were too brutal for a room with sunshine and crayons. Some stories, you kept for yourself, a testament to the silent, violent strength it took to bring a new soul into the world. She began to write the day’s math problems on the board, her hand steady, her secret safe.

[expansionblog]

[preggirlr]

Watch "Very Pregnant: Episode 1" on YouTube

[crownformesposts]

Wish she wasn’t in a hospital but I love this video soooo much

[pregg100]

[blockxinder-deactivated20241204]

[preggirlr]

Does anybody know of any other videos like this floating around? I found a few on a YouTube channel and I love them, or if anyone makes any its a cool idea

[earthmover1-deactivated20210630]

[preggirlr]

Lovely 😊

[pushingboi]

We sit together in our bed, just the two of us in the quiet of the early morning. You trace circles over my skin, your fingers connecting with the muffled, constricted movements of your baby in my belly.

I'm swollen and round, my big belly sitting low. Though my womb is warm and safe, it's growing much too cramped, and it's about time for our baby to come into the world.

The contractions hit fast and hard, and with each blinding ache I bury myself in your warm chest for comfort. You kiss my hair, hold my hand and reassure me the whole way through.

"Oh, god.." I moan. I can feel every stretched muscle constricting down, and I can feel just how low the head is sitting already, the way it settles above the bowl of my pelvis. The sensation is more intense than ever, and I toss and turn in distress.

"I know, I know. It's alright, you're doing so good." You attempt to reassure me. "It won't be long now and then the hard part will be over."

The contraction channels downwards and i suddenly feel a sense of urgency accompanying the pressure. "Ahhhnnggh, fuck, I feel like I have to push!"

"Okay, wait wait wait!" You jump up to reposition yourself between my legs, never letting go of my hand. "Let me check-"

"It's too late, I'm fucking puushhhingg!!"

It hits like a freight train, and by the time you've reached inside to check my dilation, I'm already bearing down. You don't find my cervix, anyway; the slick, bulging forebag of my unbroken waters dams the way through.

"It's coming. Ngggh.. It's fucking coming, I can feel the head entering my birth canal. Oh god, help!"

"It's ok, it's ok! You got this! Just take a deep breath and push!"

I push silently, my eyes shut tight and brow furrowing. I gasp and let got, and then push again.

You move down between my legs to watch, stroking my big belly comfortingly.

"Thats it, good boy. Keep going, while you have a contraction!"

I take a deep breath and the next contraction starts. I tremble and brace through it.

"Good boy.. here, open your legs up for the baby to come."

You gently spread my thighs wider and even without pushing, I feel my hips being opened up from the inside by the pressure of the contraction. I whimper and shake, crying out in pain.

"I feel something.." I reach down and touch the veil of membranes beginning to protrude from my slit. "Oh my god, is that him?"

You slip your fingers in underneath to see how far back the head is. "No, that's just your waters, but that means he's moving!"

I sigh and take a deep breath. As the next contraction comes I start pushing slowly. I pause and breathe, and with each push, the sac emerges from my opening lips.

"Alright, I need you to give me a big one here, alright? Okay, on three. 1.. 2.. 3.. PUSH! Yeah! Big push!!"

I brace and bear down hard with your instruction. "Push push push!"

You watch as the sac becomes more and more taut as it reaches its limit, the membrane stretching thin around the milky fluid within. Just as you think it ought to break any moment, it bursts from just below my clit. I moan at the sudden release of pressure as the water gushes out of my birth canal, surging out through my slit and pooling onto the towels beneath my hips with a splash.

Now you reach inside again and finally feel the head for the first time.

"Good job, there he is! I can feel him!"

I on the other hand am very, very aware of the position of the head inside me. The release of pressure doesn't last, and the tide lurches the head forward to sit firmly inside the narrow of my pelvis. The pain and intensity is immense, I can't even speak through it.

"Hey. Hey." You take my hand. "You need to breathe, long and slow okay? Take a good slow breath for the baby."

I nod and oblige, but it's not long before the contraction returns in force, and with it, the unbearable urge to push. "Nnnghh.. I need him out of my belly.."

"Alright, here we go again." You say, gently running a hand over the bottom of my belly. I'm already pushing, but you continue to reinforce me. "Come on, push push push!"

"Holy fuck! Unfhhhhh- Aaaaghh! Fuck, I have to give birth!"

"You're doing great, i can see hair! I can see the head!"

I grip at my belly as I push. The baby feels so fucking big, stretching me to the bone, unfolding me so agonizingly in its inescapable fate to be born.

"Push! Push!"

My muscles strain, I shake with the effort. Deep in the throes of labour I push, push, bearing down through the pain. The head comes into view but momentarily, and then retreats back inside the moment I stop pushing.

"Keep those legs spread, babe. You can do it. He's coming!"

It's so constant I can't stop. There's nothing but pressure and pushing, through the feeling of that excruciating stretch. I make progress with every push, my pussy opening slowly but surely.

"Nhhhh.. nnnggghhhh.. gaaaaaaahhhh...!" I moan through the pain.

The head begins to crown bit by bit between my legs with each desperate push.

"Keep pushing! Keep pushing! He's almost here!"

The head slowly approaches the crown, having been pushed all the way through my hips and now bulging out my slick, swollen entrance.

"There you go, you're pushing so good! Your baby's crowning, and you're stretching so well.

There's no stopping it now. I gasp and pant, eyes gaping as I'm blinded by the pain. My pussy stretches to its limit around the huge head, and with one more big push, the nose and chin slip out as the head is born into your waiting hands. You promptly check for the cord, which thankfully isn't around the baby's neck.

My whole birth canal is stretched from the inside out around the rest of the body and I feel the shoulders rotate inside me.

I pant and pant for a moment, and it isn't long before the next desperate contraction. Now is the final stretch.

I push and push, the head wobbles between my legs but doesn't budge. The pain and pressure are immense. The stretching feeling is different, deeper, but what I feel is fullness - so much fullness as the baby's entire body transits my body through my pussy.

"Aghhh, fuck, I can't! It's too much! Get him out of me!"

"No, you have to do it. You can do it! You're doing great!"

"I- can't.."

"Take a deep breath. Deep breaths. Now PUSH. PUSH! You have to push your baby out!

"AAAARRRRRGGGHHHHHHH!!"

You push back my thighs with each hand as I bear down, trying to open my pelvis and free the shoulders. Again the head wobbles from the strain but makes no progress towards being born.

"It's stuck, it's stuck!! I can't get him out! Help me, help me I need to birth him!"

You feel around the head and slip your fingers in under my clit and deeper inside. I moan as you finger my poor, swollen, birthing pussy. You don't find the shoulders, like you expected, but manage to hook your finger around an arm.

"Okay, I've got it! Push! Push for me!"

"Nnnnnghh- AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" I scream in pain as my hole opens wider as I push. This gives you the perfect opportunity to pull the arm free, sweeping it down over the baby's face.

"That's it! He's coming! Come on, big push! One more big push! PUSH!"

I throw back my head and roar, pushing as hard as I can. You pull and pull, and the rest of the baby begins to slide free of my pussy. With a sudden gush the other arm pops free, born up to the waist. I feel the relief wash over me.

I stop for a moment and breathe, the baby halfway out between my legs beginning to sputter and cry. "You did it!" you cheer. "There's our baby, he's finally here!"

I roll my hips and give one more little shove, and the baby comes slithering the rest of the way out. I collapse with exhaustion for the moment, and you gather your crying baby in your arms for the first time.

[pushingboi]

The mid afternoon sunlight filters through the window of our bedroom. I keep my eyes shut as I awaken, drinking up every last second of our siesta while I can.

You wake up as I stir, and watch through sleepy half-lidded eyes as I roll over my gravid belly to lay on my back and stretch, taking a deep breath and sighing contentedly.

I kick the blankets down the bed and curiously peel my shirt back over my bump. Inside I feel the lively baby squirm and kick, roiling about as if getting more frustrated about their own inability to stretch out. You reach out and snuggle into me, placing a hand on my belly, and I meet you with a sweet kiss.

I smile and place my hands beside yours, immersing myself in feeling the life roiling inside my womb, nestled safe and warm within my belly.

The baby chills out and stills for a moment, and just then my womb tweaks obviously, startling you awake. "Oh shit, was that a contraction?" You ask.

"Noooo..? Maybe..?" I play puzzled. "Maybe it's just Braxton-hicks?"

I can't fool you and we both know it. You jump up worriedly. "How long have you been having them? Did they just start? How strong are they? That one felt pretty strong.. Are you going into labour? Or already in labour? Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Okay, calm down, calm down." I reassure. "If you want an answer you have to give me a chance to respond." I sigh.

"I've been having contractions for a few hours. They're getting stronger but I don't know how close I am. I'm still fine. They hurt, like, a lot. But not bad enough that I can't nap, right?"

"Shit; we've gotta get you to the hospital!"

"Fuck no. We talked about this already, love, and you don't get to decide to change your mind. No way in hell I'm going to a hospital. I don't need some stranger tying me up and prodding me while I'm trying to have your baby; you can do that just as well yourself, can't you?" I tease.

-

The evening sun shines in through the window of our bedroom. A cool breeze flows through the open screen and over my bare skin, the pleasant sensation a welcome distraction from the pain.

You rub my lower back tenderly as you watch over my labour. I've long since shed my shirt and pants, rejecting the hot and restricting fabric to let the rays of sun bathe my pale skin.

I arch my back as a contraction strikes. I lean into you breathlessly, and let out a very long groan as the ache tears through my body. Halfway though I pant to catch my breath, and then groan again. The contractions are getting longer, and harder, and faster, as they begin to fall into a rhythm, the percussive march that heralds forth the birth.

"Fuck.." I pant. "Fuck, it's so much. I can't.."

You run your fingers through my long hair as you soothe me gently. "You're doing fine. You're almost through this part, and soon you'll be pushing out my baby." I smile a little. You continue teasing. "Yeah? You like the sound of that, don't you? There's only one thing you love more than being this heavy and swollen with my babies; and that's getting to birth them out."

I tremble a little, for some motley reason of anticipation, pain, excitement and exhaustion. Just as the thought crosses my mind that I'm due for another contraction, it rolls in like a slow, long tide, enveloping my senses in the intensity of the pressure and- "Ah! Ah, oh god, oh fuck..! It's coming! Th-the baby's coming!"

I pinch my eyes shut and try not to howl with the brilliant pain. You move beside me and go to feel for my dilation. To your surprise, you meet the head already eagerly descending into my birth canal, waters intact.

"You're right, love, it's time for you to give birth. Are you ready to push?"

"Nnnnoo I'm not! It's- oh god, it's- nnn.. yes! Yes, yes, I'm puuuushinng..!"

"Good boy! Come on, the contraction's still coming. Push!"

It doesn't take much convincing. The urge overtakes me and I bear down, holding my breath and channeling the pressure downwards through my abdomen.

I break and take but a second to breathe before continuing. My face scrunches and my belly tenses, all hands on deck as I toil.

I gasp for air, winded from the effort. "Breathe, breathe, love. Take your time, your body knows what to do."

I lay back and stare at the ceiling, slowing my breathing, and rest, as the contraction has subsided, taking with it the excitement and urge to push. "I hope it's not to big.. I hope it's not stuck.."

"What? I thought you liked it that way. Makes it more interesting, doesn't it?" You wink.

I want so badly to be upset with you, I want so badly not to find that funny, but try as I might to deny it I feel the humour lift some weight from my body and something like a smile tease at the corner of my mouth.

"Is it crowning yet?" I ask.

"You can feel for yourself if you want. But no, not yet. You've still got a ways to go so conserve your strength."

I nod. I lay still for a few more moments and gather my strength. Just as the contraction begins I haul myself upwards into a kneeling position.

I take a few deep breaths and lean forward. "Get ready and push, love!" I steady myself. "Push!"

As I push I feel the difference with the change of position. Gravity starts to do its share, and while it doesn't do much for opening my pelvis, I can feel the movement nonetheless.

I feel the rhythm, finally, as it starts to set in. I rock back and forth and breathe and push, losing myself in the cycle - breathe, rock, push. Breathe, rock, push. Breathe, rock, push. Breathe, rock, push.

The head inches downwards, boring its way through my flesh. As it comes closer and closer to the sensitive opening it feels different, more. It really feels like the erupting force threatens to split me open. I barely notice that as I've pushed I've leaned forward slowly until it's easier to make myself comfortable on all fours.

It's here, watching me strain and sweat, that you realize just how helpless you are. You shuffle around me to get a better look.

I grasp at the sheets, the bed, at my belly, at you, desperate and writhing beneath the intensity. I pant and pant and puuuush, puuuush, PUUSH!

My pussy begins to part as the head encroaches upon it. The intact sac glistens as it appears between my legs. Face into the bed my moans are muffled. You rub my back and comfort me in vain; it's all up to me now to give birth to your baby.

With the next contraction my body tenses. My legs tremble, my breath wavers and I sob through the pain. The sobs curl into a determined wail as i bear down, pressure rippling through my belly and hips. The head continues to squeeze through, stretching into sight bit by bit.

"Here it comes, love. I can see it. Don't stop pushing."

I obey, choking my breath through another contraction. I heave, and push, the head moving so slowly towards the world, gripped firmly within my birth canal.

The contraction lulls, and so does my urge to push, and I'm left with nothing but the awareness of the huge baby's position in my pelvis, filling the space between my hips like nothing I've ever felt. I rock my hips side to side, forward and back, savouring the sweet stretch and the bitter pain threatening to tear down my consciousness.

You look on with pride and.. oh such lust. You can't deny how much it turns you on to see me like this, bent over and stretched open before you, labouring and toiling while I give birth to your baby. The waistband of your pants is all there is between you and ecstasy but you resist thre urge to touch yourself.

The rhythm returns and I whine as I lean into the contraction.

"C'mon baby, push it out for me. Push it out!"

"NNnnnggghh.. I'm... pushing... as hard as I can.."

The head begins to crown, my bulging slit parting around it. As I release the pressure and catch my breath it retreats back inside. "Hah.. hah.. ha.. aaa-hhhhhnnnnnnnnngh...!"

I bear down with all my strength, working through the stinging crown. The supple skin of my cunt grows thin and tight as it clings to the slowly protruding head of our baby.

"It's co-ming! Oh fuck, it's coming out!" I cry.

You've got a pretty sweet view while I push for you. My ass in the air, bearing down while your new baby squeezes into view between my legs.

I sink down into the bed and scream into the pillow, the unquenchable burning of the crown battling the insurgent urge to push. My poor tight, engorged little pussy bulges all around the head.

"It's stretching me open… Oh my god, the head.."

I breathe and pant in desperation, the intensity refusing to quell. All I can think and feel is the baby trying to stretch through my abused opening. "It's burning. It's burning. It's so hard.. I can't.. I have to.. I.."

"You're doing so good babe. Feel my baby stretch open the hole I fucked it into. Breathe and let it open you up."

"I have to push so bad. I have to push this baby out.." I start bearing down again one push at a time. "Fuck, it's so hard! I'm trying so hard to give birth but it won't- GAAAAH!" Suddenly the sac breaks inside me, and a little gush of amniotic fluid trickles forth, but the big head stops the rest of the flow like a stuck cork. "AGHHHHHHHHHHH!" The new change in pressure shifts the baby and my vagina finally starts to span around the bulge. "That's it, babe! Push, pushhh, puuuuush!"

"Nnnngghhh... p.. puuuuuuuush...." I groan. I lean my hips back and shift my knees, opening up for the baby to come out. "puuuuuuuuush...!"

"puush... puuuuush...." I keep narrating myself. The head starts to crown fully, stretching all the way. "I'm giving birth to it.. the head is almost out of me.."

"One big push! Cmon, birth it!"

I hold my breath and force everything into one big push. "Ghhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaa-aaaah-AHHHHHHH! Ahhh ohhhhh, the head..! ahhhh..... ahhhhh..."

All at once the head shears out between my legs, accompanied by a cascade of fluid which gushes onto the bed below me, carrying the head to dangle out of my birth canal.

"Oh my god, it's coming! My baby is- nnnnhh puuuuuuuushh... puuuush..." The urgency is still there, it's not out yet as I feel the whole body stretch my vagina. "I'm fucking pushing..."

The body slides through ever so slowly, from the shoulders all the way to the hips, in one long push, and then suddenly, finally, the legs slip all the way out from inside me and the gurgling baby falls onto the bed between my legs.

"There's my baby, you did it babe! You did such a good job giving birth to it!"

[xxxbreedmedaddyxxx]

thank you, Daddy. for making me into the little slut you’ve always wanted ♡

[wannafillyou]

Keep letting me breed you, see what happens

[clashdojobellies]

[sapphic-preg-fantasy]

I can’t wait to get pregnant and tease you like this. We‘d both know how my changing body would drive you crazy. How my belly keeps growing until you think it can’t stretch any further. My tops have long stopped fitting. They’re snug and reveal my round belly. When I stand in front of you, I arch my back to make my bump look bigger, and you’d love it.