A character that usually isnt really the nicest person, but today theyre being exceptionally grumpy and irritable. No one can figure out why, and no one wants to ask in fear of experiencing their shortened temper, until suddenly it dawns on someone close to them that they hadnt been to the bathroom in well over a week. Immediately after, it all makes sense; how they spent most of their time hiding out in their room, their irritability, how bloated their stomach now looked and the embarrassment that they felt anytime anyone did muster up the courage to ask them what was the matter. It seems their emotions arent the only thing thats constipated….
Touching an angel for the first time… holding them gently in my arms as I play with them… listening to their shaky confused whines, so scared and unsure about what they’re feeling. Gently kissing their neck and stroking their feathers to help them relax… easing the tension in their body as they slowly start to sink into the feeling… letting themselves finally feel good at the hands of another 🖤
religious person who was never taught anything about sex, pregnancy, or birth, so when they have a sinfully pleasurable night with their love, they don't know what's in store for them, and end up surprised by the agony that hits 9 months later <3
Obsessed with the idea of a robot character that gets bloated the more the fuller their charge is, you can hear their metal shell creaking to accommodate their size. Imagine their charger gets stuck in their port and they have to either let themselves get fuller and fuller or call someone to help UAGHHHH
Poor little bird-folk who has a condition that makes their eggs grow unusually large. It means they almost always get egg bound and spend days laying a clutch when all their friends do it in an afternoon. It doesn't help that they're small and slight with narrow hips that strain against every huge egg.
As they get closer to laying their stomach swells up immensely, looking ridiculous on their small frame. Everyone else they know gets a regular, manageable bump in the weeks before they lay. Usually only restricting their movements in the last few days. But their stomach is huge and obvious and horribly sore for weeks. They spend almost a month too heavy to fly and by the last week they can barely walk. You would think that going through this every year would mean they're used to it, but every time they are caught off guard by how heavy and sore and uncomfortable their giant eggs make them. Their fragile pelvis wasn't made to carry so much weight. Their skin stretches so far that they start to lose feathers on their belly and red, angry stretch marks are visible on the exposed skin. It's miserable but they know the worst is still yet to come.
Their body is designed to lay quickly. Half a day of laboring, an hour of pushing and you've got a clutch. But with their eggs three or four times bigger than they should be that timeline is simply impossible. They dread those first contractions. Once they start they are trapped in a horrible storm as their body shoves the first egg down brutally hard and fast. The pressure in their hips increases ten fold. They squawk and cry, paralyzed by the intensity and trying desperately to find a position that will ease some of the pressure.
It's not long before the tip of the first egg begins to press down through their cloaca. This is when the real trouble starts. They are gripped with the urge to push. The first push begins to stretch their hole, the heavy egg bulging out the skin between their legs, the very tip visible just inside. But there is not enough space. Two, maybe three pushes should be enough for a regular egg. But their egg is so, so big. It gets stuck almost immediately. A few desperate pushes might bring it down just a bit more, enough than the stretch of their cloaca really starts to sting. But then it lodges itself and won't budge no matter how much they push.
No matter how many times they're forced to do this they are always gripped with horrible panic when they realize the egg won't move. The pain of contractions, the spasming of their stretched hole, the mind numbing pressure, all make it impossible to think. They'll thrash and scream, crying that it's stuck! It's stuck! Oh god please, it won't come! By now they know to have a healer on hand. But during their first lay they cried alone for hours, sure they were going to die.
There isn't actually much the healer can do. The bird-folk must now go through a horrible process of slow stretching. The healer takes some oil and rubs it around the rim of their hole, gently stretching the already taught skin, trying to work them open. They moan as their tortured hole is stretched. The burn is constant and terrible and they feel like they could rip open at any second. The healer stretches them and then they are forced to stand on shaking legs and hobble back and forth, bowlegged around their crowning egg. They shift their hips as best they can, trying to work the egg down. They are still beset by contractions and every few the urge to push becomes too great and they have to squat down and push. On every fourth or fifth push the egg will inch out the slightest bit more.
The progress is glacial and agonizing. They are trapped in a desperate cycle. Once they collapse from exhaustion the healer applies more oil, wedging their finger in alongside the egg and making them stretch. Then after a fruitless push or two they are dragged back to their feet. They rock and sway and squat intermittently, pushing and crying, until their legs give out once again and they slump to the ground in an exhausted heap. Then the healer approaches with more oil.
This goes on for hour after miserable hour. Slowly the egg crowns out of their tortured cloaca. The liberal application of oil and constant stretching protects them from tearing but the burn is indescribable. They are stretched so tight around something much bigger than it should be. At a certain point they go numb, their nerves unable to keep up with the stretch.
It's usually at that point that they break down completely, going limp and weeping, saying the egg will never come out, just leave them, they're too tired to push anymore. Every time they're sure this is it, it's over. They just want the pressure and the pain to end but their will is completely broken. The healer lets them cry and writhe through several contractions then hauls them up on their hands and knees, forces some water down their throat, and tells them to get pushing. It's hard but they've done it every year and this won't be the year they die on the healer's watch. Still crying and hiccuping miserably they bear down and push again.
By the next day they are usually close to the widest part of the egg. The end is in sight but still so far away. The cycles of oil, stretching, and pushing have gotten shorter and shorter. They are no longer able to stand, the egg forcing their legs too wide. It looks obscene sticking out of their hole, taking up the entire space between their legs. They alternate between squatting and rocking back and forth on their hands and knees. By now they are in a kind of trance-like state. Their world shrunk down to just the giant egg holding them brutally open. They emit a constant quiet lowing, their broken voice peaking in distress with every push.
Finally after one push they feel it, on instinct they know that one more push will get them past the widest point. They suck in a breath and push with every desperate ounce of strength left in their exhausted body. The egg moves. The pressure gives. In an almost orgasmic gush the egg bursts through and slides out of their spasming hole. They slump to the ground and sob in relief.
They get maybe an hour of rest. Then the pains return and their body starts working the next giant egg down to their hole. They're stretched now so this one will not take quite as long but they still have hours more of pushing ahead. And after that two more eggs lie in wait.
When all of the eggs are finally out they sleep for days, completely drained. The relief of finally being empty is always tainted by the knowledge that they will have to do it all again next year.
A concept I've had stuck in my head for a while is an experimental facility where scientists are testing a procedure that makes humans produce and lay eggs. After a lot of trial and error they've got it down pretty well. The test subjects produce around 6-10 eggs a month in line with what used to be their menstrual cycle. The eggs are just a bit bigger than chicken eggs. Not super pleasant to push out but doable without much fuss. The whole project is viewed as a scientific triumph.
But what the news crews and scientific prize judges don't see are all of the poor souls who were in the first few rounds of testing before the procedure was perfected.
Some produce an egg every hour, their bellies filling quickly if they don't spend their whole day pushing them out. In the early stages they hadn't figured out how to standardize egg size so these unlucky subjects go from tiny grape sized eggs to eggs the size of grapefruit with no warning. Some become so fed up and exhausted from constantly birthing that they refuse to push for days despite their stomachs swelling and cramping. Just a day or two and they will appear full term with a human baby. Eventually the pressure will be too much and they will be forced to push. The backed up eggs will come shooting out of their holes much too fast making them scream. But once they start it's almost impossible to stop until most of the pressure has eased. At that point there will still be eggs inside and they will have to heave and strain, desperate to empty their overtaxed womb, knowing that even now a new egg is forming.
Others produce an egg less often, once every few days or so, but the eggs are much too big. Most are about as big around as a newborn's head. These unlucky subjects are forced to experience the agony of childbirth multiple times a week or, if they refuse to push, for hours at a time when they finally are forced to birth the built up eggs. The cruel irony is that the drugs used to induce egg production make their holes much more resilient meaning they stay tight never getting stretched out and lose no matter how many births they endure.
However, even they are fortunate in comparison to the most miserable test subject in the facility. They were one of the first to undergo the procedure and their body had a unique and unfortunate reaction. At first it seemed like it was working well. They produced a small clutch of fist sized eggs. Then on their next cycle one of the eggs grew extremely fast. Overnight it had grown larger than a full term baby. Their belly was stretched horribly, streaked with angry red stretch marks from being forced to expand much too fast. The scientists were baffled. They tried having the subject lay their eggs. They managed to pass all the regular sized eggs but it soon became apparent that the big egg would never be able to pass through their hips. It was completely stuck.
This subject is still in the facility now. They follow a miserable routine. Over the month their already overfull stomach swells until they finally feel the tell tale spasms of contractions. They squat and push, slowly laying 6 or so eggs the size of their fist. It's hard, agonizing work, each hard shell stretching them open and dragging against their sensitive walls.
Then comes the worst part. The weight of the giant egg settles into their hips. They push desperately, working the tip down into their birth canal. Several long hard pushes later the tip will be visible parting their lips, peaking out into the world. They will labor and push for hours and the egg will inch out of them, it's huge girth stretching their hole beyond its limit. Then, as it always does, the egg will stop moving. No matter how frantically they push they cannot move the egg out another millimeter. It is caught in their hips, too wide to pass through the pelvic opening. They will rock their hips and moan and cry in bitter frustration as their tortured hole spasms around the gargantuan egg.
Finally the staff takes pity on them and comes to their aid. The subject struggles and screams, pleading to be let to push for just a bit longer, they can do it this time, this time they'll get it out, it's almost there! please don't push it back in again!! But their pleas fall on deaf ears. They are held down and the giant egg is slowly pushed back into their womb. They howl in pain and cry with bitter frustration and the rough shell slides back inside. The terrible weight settles back into their perpetually stretched womb and the cycle begins again.
Who want's to fuck a miserably pregnant guy that's carrying like an entire litter that you put inside him into labor? What will you do with him? Are you going to lovingly support and help him and have a wholesome birth experience? Or will you watch him attempt to painfully birth each large babe within his tightly packed womb? Perhaps you'll go as far as pushing the baby's head back in for your own please? Whatever you do with him, all he's going to want is for you to breed him all over again~
Lately I’ve been loving reading/writing about the “unaware pregnancy” topic, specifically where the pregnancy is incredibly obvious to everyone else. Something about the mother not acknowledging the pregnancy, but still feeling all the symptoms, the heaviness, etc… and their partner witnessing it all and appreciating it but not knowing how to tell them… combine that with an accelerated pregnancy and some birth denial… whew.
Trying my best to contribute to this very niche genre through my writing 🫡
Maybe some dialogue from someone so stuffed/inflated/etc. that they want their partner to be careful with them? (Doesn't have to be dialogue either! Thanks for all of the awesome posts!!)
"Ugh, don't jostle me so much…"
"Can you help me get this burp out? Please? Just… Be gentle…"
"Oh, god, don't squeeze me."
"Oof, I might need you to help me up. Ooh--slowly!"
"No, I do want a hug, it's just--the pressure…"
"Can you rub my belly? Really gentle please…"
"Ooh, don't press so hard!"
"I think I can take a little more… Go slow, though, okay?"
"Oh, please, no pats…"
"Can you help me unbutton this? Ooh--careful, careful…"