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thecrowningglory

goldenwingeddevil

Country Cult 1

WARNING: GRAPHIC THEMES AND DESCRIPTIONS INCLUDING BIRTH AND SEX. CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK.

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toomuchbirth

I didn't mean to. You have to believe that. It just felt so good. Being with you. In you. Our bodies locked together in a way that felt so right, so natural and perfect.

It already was so much. I barely noticed how close I was. Then you just made the best sound. Wrapped your legs around me and I felt your whole body react, heard your orgasm take you...

It just came so abruptly. The next thing I knew it was the best feeling ever and a thick, potent pulse of my cum shot into your body. Right into your deepest point as we came together. By the time I realized what happened, the second shot had flooded you too.

Everything had been so good. I didn't want to ruin it. So I lied. Pulled out, let the last couple of weaker throbs of pleasure splatter on your chest and belly. I told you I pulled out in time because I didn't want to scare you or make you angry.

It was our first time. I kept telling myself there was no way it would take root inside you.

breedmenaturally

Birth Pleasure - Google Drive

push4me

Unimaginably 🥵

mcbreedmehard-deactivated202501

Id love to have a folder of cocks 😏

push4u

Hormones & Babies

Excerpt from this story, probably one of the sexiest things I’ve ever read: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1138844/chapters/2305978

Joan was completely naked on her knees in the bed, her head resting in her arms which were supported by the bed’s headboard. She rocked her hips back and forth during contractions. She was about 6cm dilated now. Her long exhales would blend into moans as the contractions reached their peaks. They would always end with a quiet, breathy “ahhh”.

The last time Sherlock saw Joan’s hips sway like that was during the heat they shared when she conceived their children. He thinks it’s even sexier now than it was then, if that’s even possible. His babies were currently shoving their way out of their mother, Joan, and that was enough to make him want to hide away in the bathroom and tug at himself until he came. But Joan needed him here, and she needed him focused. He wondered how focused he would be later when Joan actually delivered them. He’d read in books, and was also informed by their doctor that Omegas experience a lot of pleasure mixed in with the pain during the birthing process. He couldn’t wait to see Joan writhing around on the bed with a child halfway out of her.

Right now though, Joan was feeling mostly pain. All she could feel was her overly stretched womb contracting and tightening inside her, and it didn’t feel very nice.

“Ah, Sherlock. Rub my back.”

He crawled onto the bed and pressed both of his palms to the bottom of her back. He rubbed in circles, humming quietly with her during the contractions.

Minutes passed and Joan needed Sherlock to check how far she was. He looked at the chart they bought that was sitting on the bedside table, and pressed his fingers inside her. She was so wet. Labor caused Omegas to lubricate in preparation for the baby or babies. Joan hissed though, her cervix was very tender. He felt around until he finally told her, “You’re about 8 centimeters.”

“What?! Wasn’t I just 6?”

“Yes, but now you’re 8,” Sherlock pulled out of her and cleaned his fingers off. He felt tempted to lick her juices off with his tongue, but he wanted to stay focused.

“If it’s going that fast, you should probably go put some warm water in the bowl on the sink then. You sure Mrs. Hudson knows what’s going on,” Joan asked.

“If she didn’t hear me before when I told her, I’m sure she knows now. The walls in this building are very thin.”

Joan blushed as Sherlock left to get the warm water. She hoped she wasn’t being too loud. She didn’t even know what time it was, but it was still dark outside, so she didn’t want to wake the entire neighborhood.

Before she could think about it any more, another contraction hit her. She struggled to turn around so she was in a semi-sitting position, her legs bent. She breathed deeply as she tried to get through this one. It seemed to be even worse than the previous ones, and she could feel the pressure of the first baby pushing down inside her.

Sherlock came back into the room and she requested that he get her more pillows to support her back. Once he’d done that and she was comfortable, she sat for a few minutes and breathed through even more contractions.

Then, she felt a twinge of pleasure as the baby entered her birth canal. “Sherlock, check me.”

When he put his fingers inside her, he gasped. “I can feel a head I think. That’s definitely a head.”

Sherlock pulled his fingers out and scrambled to get the supplies closer to the bed.

“Sherlock, calm down please. You’re not helping,” Joan said weakly.

“Sorry. I just don’t want to mess this up.”

“I know.”

Sherlock looked at the two cribs which were big enough for two babies in each on the other side of the room. Soon their children would be sleeping there, and not in their mother.

Joan’s long moan broke him out of his thoughts. He turned back to her. The look on her face was definitely one of pleasure.

“Oh my god, Sherlock. It’s so big.”

The last time he heard her say that was when she was sitting on his knot.

“Fuck. It’s coming.” Joan took both her legs and pulled them up so they were at the sides of her large belly, and without warning, she bore down.

Sherlock put a towel down where the baby would be coming out and dipped a smaller towel in the warm water. He squeezed the towel so most of the water dripped back into the bowel, and he placed the damp towel against her swollen hole. Omegas usually didn’t tear during birth, but he wanted to take every precaution he could.

As soon as the contraction was over, another one came. Joan groaned and pushed again.

“That’s it, Joan. Keep going.”

Sherlock could feel something pressing against the towel, so he pulled his hand away and gasped. He saw a large, dark mass forcing itself out of her. He let the tips of his fingers brush over it, feeling it’s soft hair. He almost started crying.

“Oh my god,” Joan moaned as the baby began to crown. “That feels fucking-” She grunted, pushing. “Fantastic.”

Her low moans got more and more high pitched as the head continued pushing out of her. “FUCK SHERLOCK!”

The head popped out, as did the rest of the body. A gush of lubricant and amniotic fluid followed as Joan came. Her body shook with her orgasm, and she looked down at Sherlock who had caught the baby as it slipped out. He was now cleaning it off, and after wiping it’s face a little, it squealed and cried and coughed. Joan smiled and a tear slid down her cheek. Once Sherlock was done clamping and cutting the chord, he put the baby on Joan’s chest.

“Did you check what it is,” she asked as she lifted the flailing baby’s leg.

“It’s a boy. I believe he might present as an Alpha when he grows up.” Sherlock stated proudly.

Joan chuckled. “So what do you want to name this one?”

Sherlock went and got the bag from the nursery which was sitting in the corner of the room and pulled out the four onesies with customized patches on the chest of each one. Three of them were blue and one was pink, and they all had different names stitched on their patches. He picked up the blue ones.

“Julian Augustus Holmes, Hugo Montgomery Holmes, or Benjamin Howard Holmes?” He lifted up the onesies for Joan to see.

“I like Julian for this one. What do you think,” she asked the baby who’d quieted down. “Julian?” The baby opened his eyes and stared at her. Joan giggled. “Yeah, this is Julian.”

Sherlock put the other onesies down on the bed and took Julian to clean him more thoroughly before putting him into his own onesie and wrapping him up in a blanket. Thankfully, it seemed he wasn’t hungry just yet, so Sherlock placed him in one of the cribs so he could rest.

“Wait!”

Sherlock snapped his head towards Joan who’s eyes were wide. “What, what is it,” he asked, panicked.

“Did you check the time when he was born? I completely forgot about that part. Shit.”

He sighed in relief. He thought something was truly wrong. “Don’t worry.” He tapped his watch. “I saved the time in my Mind Palace. We’ll write all of them down later.”

Joan exhaled and closed her eyes. Sherlock started cleaning the bed around her for the next birth. He placed a clean towel under her and got a new bowl of warm water. He threw the dirty towels in the laundry basket and got new, clean ones and brought them back into the room.

Joan was breathing deeply, the contractions slowly starting up again. Her eyes still closed, she put both her hands on her belly and started rubbing in wide circles, as if to urge the babies to leave her womb. Her humming started when the contractions got worse, and she was soon moaning and breathing harshly as the pressure increased.

Sherlock got into position again at the end of the bed and pressed his fingers inside. Sure enough, he felt a hard mass entering her birth canal, but he didn’t need to tell her that because she could feel it. He knew that, because her face turned from pain to pleasure when the next contraction hit her.

“Ooooh fuck, Sherlock. Holy shit.”

Sherlock loved how she cursed when she was being pleasured. His cock began to harden in his pants as he watched her breathe deeply and moan.

“This one feels bigger. It’s stretching me so wide. It’s like having your thick knot inside me.” She moaned long and loud.

Sherlock looked down when he heard Joan make a high pitched groan. The head began parting her lips.

“Keep going, Joan. You’re doing amazingly.”

“Mmmmm can you see that baby, Sherlock? Look at it. You put that baby inside me and now it wants out. Oh my god it feels so good. You better fucking put more in me when I’m finished birthing these. I want more, so many more. Fuck.”

Sherlock growled and grabbed her thighs, pushing her legs up so they were bracing her belly. He got close to her pussy and began licking her hole around his baby’s head. He kissed her folds and groaned when he felt the baby move.

“Oh it’s coming, Sherlock!” Her voice was high and breathy. Then, she grabbed a fistfull of the sheets and various clothes beneath her and pushed. She felt the baby squirm around in her hole as she bore down on it.

“It’s moving. God, it feels so good.” The baby tried to stretch against her walls as she continued to force it out of her.

Sherlock was still licking and kissing her hole as the baby began to crown. He pulled his face back a little so he could watch Joan work on birthing her second child. “You’re such a good mother. That’s it, push that baby out. It feels good being stuffed full of my children, doesn’t it?”

She moaned and nodded, then she was pushing again.

Soon the baby was crowning, but it kept sliding back inside her with every push. Feeling the baby pushing out only to be sucked back in made Joan moan even louder.

“It won’t get out, Sherlock. Help,” she pleaded helplessly.

Sherlock pushed a finger inside of her on one side of the baby’s head, then he took his other hand and stuck another finger on the other side of it’s head. Another contraction hit Joan and she pushed with it. Sherlock hooked his fingers around the baby’s head and pulled, but it wasn’t enough. While Joan was distracted by the contraction, he put the rest of his fingers in one by one alongside the fingers that were already inside her so that the only fingers that weren’t inside her were his thumbs. He cupped the baby’s head with his hands and pulled. The baby finally began to move.

Joan pushed again when the next contraction hit, and the head started crowning. Sherlock’s hands added to the width of the baby’s head.

“Sherlock, that feels so good,” she moaned. His hands and the baby’s head stretched her so wide, and her moan turned into something close to a hoarse scream as her contraction peaked and the head shoved out even further.

Sherlock gave one final tug as Joan pushed, and the head and body slid out of her, followed by the fluid from Joan’s womb.

Joan lay there shaking as Sherlock checked his watch, then inspected and cleaned the baby. It pinked up fast, obviously healthy. It cried loud as Sherlock finished cleaning it. He lifted up the baby’s leg and smiled.

He rubbed Joan’s thigh as she came down from her high and said, “It’s a girl. This is Quinn.”

Joan sighed happily as Sherlock reached over to the onesies and put the new baby in the pink one that had “Quinneth Olivian Holmes” stitched into it’s patch.

Joan looked at her new baby girl and chuckled at the fact that she was bigger than her brother, which Sherlock said he believed would become and Alpha. “Hey, maybe she’ll grow up to be an Alpha.” They both laughed as Sherlock placed the baby on Joan’s chest. The baby’s mouth began opening and closing, clearly wanting to be fed.

Joan brought the baby to her breast and guided it’s mouth to her nipple. The baby latched on immediately, pulling a moan from it’s mother. Sherlock watched as Joan fed her child for the first time. His first reaction wasn’t sexual, though it was very sexy to see her doing such a thing. But, instead, he thought about how fantastic of a mother she’s going to be. He couldn’t wait to raise their children with her.

The baby’s noisy eating slowed until she was asleep. Sherlock took her to lay beside her brother in the crib across the room after he wrapped her up in a blanket and kissed her forehead.

“Two down, two to go,” Joan breathed tiredly. “I think I want to stand up and walk around a bit. The pressure isn’t coming very fast this time. They might need some encouragement.”

Sherlock helped Joan stand up and held the other hand that wasn’t hanging on to the safety rails on the walls of the room.

Joan took a step, Sherlock took a step, then Joan breathed deeply. They kept this cycle going until eventually the contractions started again. The volume of her pained moans increased as the contractions got worse, just like with the last two babies. She started panting when they reached their peaks, letting go of Sherlock’s hand to grab on to the rail with both hands as she swayed her hips back and forth trying to relieve the pressure.

When a more painful contraction gripped her middle, she got down into a squatting position and groaned deeply while she hung on to the rail. Her thighs were spread wide on either side of her belly. The size of her stomach had gone down slightly. Omegas had the ability to go back to the figure they had before they were pregnant almost instantly after every birth, but she was still very large with one child in her womb and another entering her birth canal.

Finally, the pleasurable part of birth kicked in, and she moaned as she felt the baby slide through her. Sherlock squatted down behind her and felt around inside her hole. The head of the baby was pushing against his fingers, so he pulled out and grabbed a towel, a clamp, and the scissors from the bed and set them aside.

“When you feel the urge, push,” he told her. He knew he didn’t really need to tell her that, but he felt there was nothing else he could do.

Joan’s low humming turned into a loud moan as she pushed with the next contraction. Sherlock put his palm to her hole and he felt the baby’s head pressing out against him.

“It’s right there, Joan. You’re doing great,” he encouraged.

It only took a few pushes before the head was completely out. This time, the body didn’t follow so soon. Sherlock rubbed his palms along Joan’s spine as she rested. Then she gasped, and Sherlock’s hands went back between her legs expecting to feel the baby slide into his arms, but it didn’t. He looked at the baby and saw it’s mouth opening and closing. It was trying to breathe.

“It’s moving like the other one did, Sherlock. Oh fuck.”

“You need to push, it’s trying to take a breath.”

“What?! Oh god, I’m killing my baby. It can’t breathe oh god…” Joan pushed without a contraction and felt like she was on the verge of tears as she panicked.

“No no.” Sherlock rubbed her back again. “Don’t push unless you have a contraction. It’ll be alright as long as you calm down and focus. When the next contraction comes, push hard, okay?”

Joan nodded and let out a long, frustrated sigh.

The contraction hit, and she immediately bore down. Sherlock held the baby’s head, ready to catch. Joan moaned as the shoulders stretched her. She began to feel the pleasure again as it slid slowly out of her. Gravity helped, and soon the baby landed safely in Sherlock’s arms. He quickly cut the chord and cleaned it off.

Joan turned around and inspected the baby herself.

“So it’s a boy, then,” she stated. They already had their girl, so it had to be a boy.

“Yes. What do you want to name this one?”

She looked at him for a little and finally said, “Benjamin. That’s definitely Benjamin.”

Sherlock smiled and grabbed the onesie with the correct name and slipped it on him, then bundled him up in a blanket and placed him in the other crib on the other side of the room.

Even though Joan was still kind of shaken from the last birth, she realized she could walk on her own now. She slowly stood up, grabbing the rail for support. She walked herself carefully to the bed and sat down in the middle with her legs spread.

“One more,” she breathed happily. She loved being pregnant, but she needed a break from all the pains pregnancy comes with. She couldn’t wait to be her old self again.

Joan was exhausted to put it mildly. Sherlock propped her legs up with pillows, stacking them under her knees to keep them bent and out of the way for her. He cleaned the supplies and situated himself at the end of the bed again, and waited.

As he sat there, he got to appreciate how amazing Joan looked. She was covered in sweat, her own lubrication, and amniotic fluid. Her chest was rising and falling slowly as she focused on bringing their next and final child into the world. Her hair was messy and all over the place. Her hands were rubbing circles over her belly as the contractions started up again. She looked damn beautiful. If she wasn’t laboring, he would bend her over and fuck her until she passed out from pleasure overload.

Joan hummed and inhaled deeply. “Last one, Sherlock. Then we’ll officially be parents of four. I won’t be pregnant anymore.” The thought made her a little sad. Even though she was going to go back to her old body, she knew the stretch marks she’d gotten during pregnancy would still be there. She wondered if Sherlock would notice. What will he think the next time he sees me naked?

Sensing the slight distress in her scent, Sherlock put a hand on one of her knees. “What are you thinking about? What’s wrong?”

Joan looked down at her stomach. She didn’t have a lot of time to explain it to him because she could feel the pressure of the last baby on her cervix, close to entering her birth canal.

“I just… Will you still love me when this is over? I’m not going to look the exact same as I used to. I know Omegas are built to give birth over and over without very many things changing about them, but there are some little things here and there that are different. I don’t want you to make love to me later out of pity or because you feel like you have to, even though you don’t want to because you don’t like how I look.”

Sherlock stared, almost angry at how she could think such things about herself. “Joan, you clearly don’t understand why I’m with you in the first place. I chose to bond with you because of who you are, not for what you look like. The fact that you’re so beautiful physically is just a plus. You’re intelligent, caring, funny, and you’re the only person who’s actually seen me for the real me instead of the heartless asshole most people seem to think I am. I love you because you are simply my other half. That sounds cheesy, and I’m not usually one for cliche expressions, but it’s true. I can’t completely figure you out, and that’s why I love you. You’re the unsolvable puzzle I’ve been looking for my whole life. No matter what you look like, I’ll always love you, Joan.”

By the end of his speech, Joan was in tears. Happy tears. Sherlock leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll always love you too, Sherlock.”

That moment they had together gave her more strength and she focused on the baby.

She panted as she began to feel it enter her birth canal. “Oh fuck, Sherlock. Here it comes.”

The urge to push overwhelmed her and she finally gave in. The baby made it’s way slowly through her, getting close to seeing the world for the first time. “Come on, baby. Get out,” she breathed from exhaustion.

She rubbed her belly some more, and her nails dug into herself as another contraction struck her. “It’s so big. Holy fuck.” She let out long breaths between pushes before bearing down again and again.

Eventually, the head was at her entrance. “It’s there, Joan,” Sherlock whispered. “It’s right there. Don’t stop.”

“I know, I can feel it. It’s so good. I can’t wait to do this again. I want to shove your babies out of my pussy for the rest of my life,” she moaned, and she meant it. She would get pregnant right after this if biology let her, but it wasn’t that simple. Her body would skip her next heat, so she’d have to wait an extra month. She had a feeling it would be worth the wait though.

The baby began to crown and she groaned deep in her throat. “Oh god… Do you like watching me birth your babies for you, Sherlock?”

“Fuck yes,” he moaned. He was staring hungrily at her hole, watching it as it stretched around his child’s head.

She began rocking her hips up and down into the mattress. She could feel the baby grinding inside her. “Mmmm yeah, Sherlock. Fuck yeah.”

Her movements sped up and another contraction gripped her middle. She clawed at her stomach as she continued to move her hips. She moaned like a whore, and Sherlock had a hard time concentrating on the baby as he watched her.

“Yes. Oh fuck yes, Sherlock. It’s coming now. Oh FUCK!”

With one final shove, she orgasmed and sent the baby sliding out of her cunt.

Sherlock shook himself and picked the baby up off the mattress and began cleaning it. It cried loudly and he smiled down at the last child of their litter. “It’s nice to meet you, Hugo,” he said, his eyes full of tears.

wrongdesire

muchelbirthenstein

"You did this to me."

"It's all your fault."

"I'm going to spread my legs, belly huge, and give birth for you."

*she had guided your hands to her belly. You feel how rounded and full it is, how pregnant her body is becoming. She keeps whispering as you rub her baby bump.*

"I didn't want this. I still don't."

"I am pregnant. Right now. It's growing even as I talk."

"I am going to give birth. All for you. I'm going to push your bastard into the world."

"I'm so scared. It's going to hurt so much. I don't want your baby. I don't want to feel the need to push. I don't want to feel it crowning."

"It doesn't matter. Your baby doesn't care."

"You made me grow a baby for you."

"I am pregnant."

toomuchbirth

Reposting all the old posts.

Still love this one~

goldenwingeddevil

Country Cult 2

WARNING: GRAPHIC THEMES AND DESCRIPTIONS INCLUDING BIRTH AND SEX. CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK. ————————-

Loud and pained grunts and groans were heard, rising up into the hot air as the door squeaked open of the fiery warehouse. Four women knelt on the soiled floor, messy with own birthing fluids. Their bodies heaved and laboured as rape children began to open them up from the inside. Five men came through the door on the side, the last one, Dion, locking the dead bolt with a key from around his neck after closing the door. They talked amongst themselves as they walked up to the four, stepping into the central atrium and smiling down at their victims. “Well, I guess it’s time,” one said, grinning ear to ear. “Yeah,” another confirmed, chuckling softly. “Look at them! They’re fighting what they’re made to do.” Four heavily pregnant women keened loudly, kneeling on the concrete, each of them fighting the urge to push and birth onto the cold ground. Each was in a different stage of labour; one even crowning, the head of her baby stretching her tender pussy lips apart. Two women had bits in their mouths, punishment for their protests, their teeth biting down and voices grunting as their bellies contracted around the babies inside. Dion sighed, taking off his cap. “Well, I’ll take my little whore and see you guys afterwards.” The rest nodded to him and watched as the blond grabbed the raven-haired woman with a bit in her mouth, dragging her away to his corner of the warehouse. Another chuckled, smiling down at a short haired brunette, grunting into her own bit, struggling as her belly tightened and tears streaked down her cheeks. He grinned. “Well, it’s your turn.” She shook her head, crying into her gag, as he approached her. She struggled to get away, but her heavy, labouring body made it impossible. Alex smirked, grabbing her arm and hauling her up. He scooped her into his burly arms, carrying her away, to his little area of the warehouse, and laid her down on a steel table. She kept screaming and struggling, her legs kicking out. He tied her hands to the side of a metal box table, just behind her head, her elbows up by her face, before locking her neck into a leather collar at the lip of the table. Her head hung down, over the edge, her hair spilling down. He took the bit from her mouth, her screams filling the air. “No!” she shrieked. “NO! PLEASE! Please don’t make me do THIS!” She grunted, her belly contracting, forcing her cervix just a bit wider. Alex ignored her. It was too late. Her body had accepted his seed, gestated his baby, and now she had to birth it. There was no way around it. It was coming out, one way or another. He grabbed some cable and hooked them to the collar, and grabbed her failing feet, immobilizing them with the cuffs on the end, splaying them wide and high, leaving her ass and pussy completely exposed. “No! NO!” Alex just chuckled, knowing that it was inevitable, that baby, his baby, was going to force her open wider than ever before. Her slit was drenched with birthing fluids, her thighs and ass gleaming wet as well. Her asshole was soaked, and Alex groaned, biting his lip, as more oozed out of her labouring sex and dripped slowly down, running across her second hole. “Damn girlie.” His captive, Lisa, sobbed with tears running from the corners of her eyes. “Please. Please don’t make me do this. I don’t want to.” Alex looked up at her, smiling. “Hun, you got no choice in this. I kidnapped you from that club to give birth to my wife’s child and you’re going to.” She shook her head. “No. No! Please!” She screamed, another contraction seizing her body, her rape baby’s head pressing more urgently on the neck of her womb. Her rapist sighed, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. “Too late, girlie.” “Oh god, please…” Lisa begged. She knew it was too late, her body was already feeling the urgency to push, to force out the little monster that had grown inside her. The pressure was strong and intense, her back and thighs aching. She could feel the head of the child driving hard against her tight cervix, trying to work its way into her vaginal canal. “Please make it stop.” She stared up at the ceiling, shrieking as another contraction gripped her. “Good girl,” Alex whispered, his hands going to her thighs, holding tight. His pants were down around his knees, his hard cock poking against her back entrance.

Her asshole was slick and wet with birthing fluid, basically begging to be penetrated. And Alex was all to happy to oblige. He began to slowly push forward, his dick forcing open her ass with some difficulty. She was tight and, with her contracting muscles, she fought against his insertion. “Hey!” Lisa cried out, looking down at her swollen body, “Stop that!” “Shush, sweety,” Alex soothed, still pressing his hips forward. “Just keep pushing.” He was slow and allowed her sphincter to adjust to his girth. He didn’t want her to bleed too much. Soon he was balls deep in her ass, and Lisa could feel his hugeness pressing against her rectal walls. She already felt bloated and gravid, but now the feeling was largely magnified. She squirmed, the feeling overwhelming. Her mind swam, consumed with deep pain, and now the oddly pleasurable pressure that was now crawling up her spine from her asshole. Her feet jostled their holds as she tried to wriggled her hips away from the sense of overpowering fullness. Her pussy blushed and welled with added wetness at the stimulation, even as her stomach pushed down on the rape baby in her uterus. Lisa screamed as he began pumping. Her ass began to burn, pain ripping through her belly as he probed the contraction muscles in her abdomen. She cried out as the baby continued to move down, the entrance to her womb dilating. Her entire body shook violently, her holds twitching around her ankles and wrists. Alex kept fucking her ass, even as she screamed and his baby kept forcing his way down her birth canal. It pushed against him and made her feel even tighter as his cock kept going in and out of her. It kept moving down, making the pressure more and more tremendous. “That’s it, girly,” he moaned, “keep pushing for me.” Lisa sobbed, her back entrance throbbing with a discomfort she desperately wanted to get away from. She keened and squirmed in her restrains as the little monster inside her kept slipping lower and lower between her legs. He was filling her vag, stretching it wide open, her pubic mound feeling insanely full. She felt like she was going to burst, her pussy lips gaping as the head began to protrude out. It pressed out, her vulva bulging and her opening beginning to tear-drop. She panted and whined as she pushed, her abs squeezing her womb. Her body curled, the rape baby inside her torturing its way out of her body. The pain was stupendous as it crowned, her lips screaming. “Fuck yes, fuck yes, FUCK YES!” Alex came into her ass, his little bundle at a full crown between his victim’s legs. Lisa shrieked, the child emerging slowly, bulging out her delicate petals, stretching them beyond their limit. She continued to scream as its little eyes and nose began to emerge. “Keep pushing,” Alex urged, having already pulled out and zipped up his pants. Now, he eagerly waited for his child to be born, his hands poised to catch him or her. Lisa panted and screamed as the head finally popped out, fluids gushing from her slit. She sobbed, tears staining her cheeks, flowing from her pale brown eyes. She let her head flop down, lolling as she weeped, the head of her little monster hung from her stretched out, and ruined, snatch. Suddenly, the baby rotated, her stomach bearing down once again. She screamed, her back arching, the shoulders of Alex’s hell spawn pushing out, stretching and torturing her delicate petals once more. Her entire body was rigid, the trembling ceasing as pain subdued her, causing all her muscles to clench up. Her eyes bulged, bugging out as each shoulder popped out, nearly tearing her feminine lips as it finally fell free of her. Alex smiled, cradling the crying infant as Lisa panted, limp in her tight holds, spent and exhausted from forcing out his little bundle of rape. Sobs continued to rack through her frame, the sheer gravity of her ordeal setting in as the adrenaline wore off, leaving her to face the harsh reality that she had just spent nine months in a warehouse, raped, pregnant, and finally forced to birth a baby that she never wanted. Her rapist and baby daddy stepped away, holding his new son, smiling proudly as he placed him in a carrier. He, then, turned by to his victim and unhooked her legs, letting them flop down. He left her there after that, far too excited to show his precious little boy to his wife.

goldenwingeddevil

Country Cult 3

WARNING: NSFW. THE FOLLOWING FICTIONAL WORK CONTAINS GRAPHIC THEMES AND DESCRIPTIONS INCLUDING BIRTH, SEX, AS WELL AS TRIGGERING CONTENT. READER’S DISCRETION IS ADVISED. CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Keep reading

pushenthusiast

toomuchbirth

Was so worth making this .gif from that amazing video~

muchbirth-deactivated20181002

Yours

I can’t believe it. You snuck into my room, that fateful day. Stripped off my clothes, even though I was uncertain, scared. Opened my legs wide. You licked my delicate folds until they became damp on their own, until I was whimpering and moaning, arching my back and curling my toes with need. You pleasured me, even as I told you it felt wrong. You nibbled on my sensitive nub until I was clutching at the sheets, pleading with you to stop, that there was so much tension inside. Then you sucked hard on my clitty, forcing me to have my first orgasm. You drank up every drop of my cum, as we discovered I was a squirter, soaking the bed as I cried out, helpless to stop you.

Then, you mounted me. Slid deep inside as I sobbed, filling me with your member in a way I’d never known. You took me, claimed me in every way, filling my body. First with your flesh, and then, as I screamed, with your seed. My hands gripped you tightly, feet kicking as you forced another orgasm from me, coating your groin with my juices as you filled my belly with your cum.

You gave me a child. Forced me to become a mother, in that moment. You snuck into my room, stripped me, and put your baby into my body as I begged you not to, told you it was dangerous. You made me cum as you forcibly impregnated me. And now it’s growing, I’m helplessly swelling with your baby, looking at you every day with nobody else knowing that it’s you that did this. Everyone rubs my belly, telling me how big I am, amazed at how much I’m changing. They don’t know you’re the one changing me. Look at me, I used to be thin, beautiful. Now your baby is forcing my belly to get firm, warm with developing life.

I’m making a child in my body for you. You made me pregnant, you’re making me give birth. All you had to do was plant your seed, and now I’m helpless to do anything but swell with your unasked for offspring, until it’s time to open my legs wide and give it life.

It’s almost time. But you know that. Look how massive I am. Run your hands over my pregnant swell. Feel your baby kick inside me, as tears brim in my eyes. Feel my bellybutton. It’s so sensitive, and you can see it, how it makes me feel. Slip into my room again, and look at my naked body, the one you’ve taken over with your baby. See how wide my hips have become, how swollen my ankles are. Look how much you’ve forced me to adapt, my body eagerly accepting this, gestating your baby, making sure it’s healthy and happy within my womb that you invaded with your seed nine months ago.

Brush my nipples, watch my eyes go wide. They’re so sensitive. And look… it leaked milk onto your finger. I’m heavy and full, my breasts are milky. Play with them, let it leak down my chest, and lick it off, taste the sweet liquid my body is making for your baby. The baby you’re making me have. My breath is getting ragged, I’m getting turned on involuntarily again. It’s so much easier like this, my body is constantly ready.

Look at where you put this baby into me. Where it’ll come out. My feminine lips. My delicate folds. Or maybe I should say it? My puffy, pregnant pussy. You can feel the heat radiating off of my swollen, baby-filled cunny. You can smell my arousal, see the puffy lips glistening. You rub my belly as you force me down onto the bed again, tasting my gender as I plead once more. My cries for you to stop are ignored, as my hands stroke my pregnant swell, just as your do. Every little touch down there is driving me wild, my toes are curling, thighs quivering. You feel my belly getting tight.

Are you going to make the mother of your baby cum again? Gonna make me squirt while I’m full of your baby? Make my juices gush from my swollen pussy?

Do it, you bastard. Make me cum even as I scream that I think I’m going into labor. Make me cum for you.

Make me birth for you.

You taste it. It erupts from me as I arch my back, clawing at the sheets just like when you put this baby in me. And again. I’m so much more sensitive, I can’t stop orgasming as you nibble and suck on my molten bead. And then… I cry out, in a different tone. Something else comes gushing out of me.

You’re making me birth.

It hurts. I’m in labor. The baby… your baby is about to open my swollen pussy wide and come out. It’s going to hurt so bad. I’m going to scream and cry as I deliver your baby, the baby you fucked into me as I begged you not to. you continue pleasuring me, even as I tell you to get help.

But you don’t want that, do you? You want it just like how you impregnated me. Just Me. And you. Me sobbing and begging and pleading, and you savoring every moment of my ordeal.

You want me to scream your baby out. Throw my head back, open my legs wide, and sob in agony as your baby tortures it’s way out of my body inch by agonizing inch. You want it to hurt, you want to delight in every solitary instant of my helplessness that you’ve forced upon me.

You impregnated me. And now, I’m going to birth for you, and only you. You lock eyes with me, for just a moment, and you see the fear and shame. I’m yours, utterly and totally. And it doesn’t matter if I’m ready to become a mother now or not, because the bed is soaked with amniotic fluid, and the head is pressing painfully against my cervix, starting to force it’s way through.

It’s time.

My breathing goes from ragged shameful arousal to rapid panic as another contraction grips me. Rub the belly you filled with your offspring, enjoy how it feels burning hot, delight in how you can feel it tighten, shrink a little with the effort of trying to deliver your child. Tell me to push. Tell me how beautiful I am like this, and that as soon as this is out you’ll force another into me, as soon as I’m ready. Make me birth for you knowing that I’m just going to be doing this in another nine or ten months, that I can’t escape this fate, that you’ll make me have as many babies for you as my body will let you make, even as I plead for you to stop, even as I’m scared and ashamed by every single one.

I feel your tongue between my legs. Licking away my birthing fluids, keeping my puffy entrance clean for your baby to stretch it wider than it’s ever been. Listen to me panting, see the sweat coating my body as childbirth begins to take its toll, hear my agonized cries as another terrible cramp holds me tight and I helplessly bear down for you. Run your fingers over my gender, feel it throb and twitch as it tries to deliver, all for you, because you wanted it this way, because you made it this way, regardless of my desires.

Keep rubbing my belly, feel how heavy it is, the heaviness I’ve been dealing with for nine months, now getting lower and lower, slipping through my birth canal. You can faintly hear it, with your head so close, as I scream for help, that I can’t stop pushing, that it’s coming. The slick, wet sound of the head forcing me open, of your child gradually emerging from me.

It hurts. It hurts so much, your baby is torturing me, and I have to reward you and it by giving birth to you.

My toes curl as my thighs quiver, and you can see as, bit by bit, the skin around my swollen pussy lips begins to bulge. Cup it, feel my crotch being pressed outwards by your infant. There’s so much pressure. It’s massive, it feels like it’s gonna break me in half. rub your baby’s head before it even crowns, make me whimper as you once more stroke my tender, sensitive lips even though I can feel them straining to contain my unwanted child.

My body is yours, I can’t stop you. Touch me, tease me in whatever way what you want as I scream out your ultimate gift.

You can see it, can’t you? The head. I feel it, it’s parting my lips. My shrieks increase in pitch as my gender splits around the head. I’m crowning, and oh god it burns. My mind spins, this can’t be real, I can’t be trapped, naked and pregnant, in a room with you, giving birth as you sit between my legs, just enjoying the view of my body delivering the human that you created. But it is, and I am.

Your baby is slipping out, and I’m helpless to do anything but let it.

Run your fingers over the head, enjoy how wet it is. Covered in my juices, making delightful slick noises as my tunnel grips the offspring you forced me to gestate far harder than it’s gripped anything before. Watch my femininity ripple and pulse, see my body straining to bring your firstborn into the world. Hear my sobs and cries as the pain overwhelms me, and I once more push with the contraction. My cries echo off the walls as I try to scream your baby out.

My entrance strains more and more as it comes, causing me even more torment, and making the skin under your fingers and tongue strain and thin. Lick me clean, play with my pregnant pussy, stroke my still heaving belly. I can’t do anything but push, and hope it emerges soon. Tease how thin the skin is, at it begins to strain. For how swollen my lips became, it seems they might not have puffed out enough. Rub the skin eagerly, feel it quivering as more of the head makes itself known.

I might tear.

It’s on the very cusp. Watch it turn pale, the blood being forced from it as the skin stretches wider and wider. Lick it, stroke it as it begins to turn deep, angry red, the sign that it’s being pulled too far. You have no idea how much this hurts, how hideous this pressure is, how intense the sensations of giving birth are. I can’t stop. I can’t.

Tell me to push. Tell me you don’t care if I tear, you don’t care if I split myself all the way open, just give birth.

Tell me.

To push.

Please.

I do. I push with everything I have, feeling like I’m going insane. Part of me wants it too, wants to be helpless, wants to feel that sweet agony of my skin breaking for your baby. I’m pushing, I’m trying to break my own skin, I scream partly in terror, partly in mortal agony, and partly with lustful need.

I’m safe. It comes out, the skin holds. The head slips forward in a hot, powerful gush of fluids. Another push, sobbing and gasping, and the first shoulder emerges. Another one and the baby squirts out of me.

You can tell from the scent that was the right term to use.

I came your baby out, even though it was the most painful experience of my life. I can’t fight you. I can’t fight my own body. I’ll always hate it, I’ll always be scared of being a mother, I’ll always not want to be near you, because I know you’ll force me to become a mommy again.

And I’ll never be able to stop you. I’ll orgasm as you impregnate me. I’ll barely be able to keep my hands off the baby belly I never wanted, still don’t want. And I’ll always let you lead me away when you see me wince at a contraction, always let you make me your private show.

I’m yours.

toomuchbirth

Reposting the old posts!

toomuchbirth

“No… no, this can't be happening… god… they’re so close now…”

I sat in the next stall, quietly touching myself as she panted in agony. She was birthing. A baby was coming out of her body, even though it was clearly the last thing she wanted. It was so beautiful, the way her voice became a strained, guttural grunt every time a contraction came. As she pushes.

They were so close now. It wasn't long before the baby came. "I don't want to be a mom... I don't want a baby, I'm not ready... I can't do this!" But I knew it didn't matter. I saw her foot under the wall, rising onto tip-toes as she pushed, her soaked pants and panties around her ankle.

"It's coming... I feel it... Coming... Out... Oh god no, no, I don't want you! I don't want you, NOOO!" And then that horrible, perfect groan of effort, her legs trembling. A dribble of fluid... Then a splash, landing on the tile, in the toilet bowl.

"The head... There's a head there... It won't stop... Please stop... Please, stop coming out, you're hurting me! I can't... Stand... It!" The subtle, almost inaudible sound of her vagina spreading, her baby's skin sliding along her vaginal walls...

Another big splash, a wet thump. A crying baby. And her own horrified sobs. It all came alongside my own climax, listening to the sounds of a life ruined, transformed forever by childbirth as pleasure surged through every inch of my body.

As I came down from my orgasm, I look at the little plastic thing in my hand, the one I'd used as this girl came in, suffering through labor. I finally looked at it. Positive. It had happened. He got me pregnant, even though I begged him to stop, to pull out, sobbed that I didn't want this... His baby was inside me. I would be just like this poor girl in less than a year...

shhhsecretsideblog

Awards Show

This isn’t a prompt or request (they’re still closed for now). This is just a self indulgent little scene that turned into a 3k fic. Bit more intimacy/sensual themes than my usual, but still has all my fav tropes :) Hope people enjoy this one x

I couldn’t resist the opportunity to show you off to my friends and colleagues at the company awards dinner. This may have been the biggest you’d ever gotten during any of your pregnancies; your tight firm belly was a beach ball beneath your maroon silk dress, hanging low and heavy on your hips. My hand wrapped around your waist and squeezed your hip affectionately as we mingled through the crowd. With a champagne glass in hand you smiled and laughed at the joke my boss made.

“You look ready to pop my dear. You better not steal the show tonight by going into labour” The CEO had said with a grin, looking in awe at your incredible size.

We both laughed, my hand moving up and down your lower back. If only he knew.

toomuchbirth

Just so many perfect elements of an intimate, passionate birth that still manages to be public, into her panties... I can't even express my delight at how intense it is. If you ever wanted one of my stories but with lighter tones, here you go~

toomuchbirth

Birth Quickie 7: Car

(Content Warning: Gaslighting, Lying, unwanted baby)

I was so lucky.

I looked at my best friend as he watched me closely, his leg bouncing, anxious. I saw the phone in his hand, and it felt so ominous. I knew what was on the screen. The timer.

The one counting down to the inevitable. I was so scared, so overwhelmed, but I also was ready to be done. One little one night stand. I could swear he had used a condom, I still didn't know how this could have happened. I hadn't wanted… this. Wanted a baby from some complete stranger swelling my belly, changing my life.

I never got used to the stares. People trying to figure out if I was really pregnant. Then realizing I was and just not looking away. Eyes roaming me. I felt so exposed, like I was naked all the time. My sexuality on display for everyone to enjoy, even if I didn't want it to be. A neon sign hanging heavily off my belly that said “will put out if drunk enough!”

But my friend was there for me through it all. He was so sweet and kind. Waiting on my hand and foot. Getting me my craving foods, holding me when I had a panic attack or broke down. I don't know what I would have done without him, his love and support. He was never even weird about it, only briefly touching my belly when I told him to, to feel a kick or just how firm it was.

birthinglover

Do you have a labor and/0r birth kink as a carrier?

If so, reblog so I can find you.

muchbirth-deactivated20181002

Happy Couple

I knew I was seeing him that day. I couldn’t wait. I wanted him so badly, I know it would be hard to hold back.

But it was dangerous. I was fertile…

The idea made me shiver. A baby… his baby… inside me. Growing… filling my womb…

But would he want it? I reached down, rubbed my flat, soft stomach. Thought how strange it would be to have it be round, firm… I decided not to tell him. I want it, even if he didn’t.

My lover came to the door. We talked. Laughed. Had dinner. Gazed longingly at each other. We both wanted what we knew would happen. Holding back, simply because the erotic tension was so delicious.

We sat on the couch next to each other. His hand found my thigh. He griped it… my whole body surged with lust. Need. I pulled him close. Kissed him deeply.

Our clothes came off, keeping a pretense of civility at first. My shirt, and his. My bra. He gazed with hunger at my breasts. Kissed the nipples, making them ache, needing more, forcing a lusty moan from me.

The man I cared for so much tried to get my pants unbuttoned, got frustrated. Tugged. The button broke, and I hissed, as my jeans were tugged off. My panties were left on, for now. I could feel my juices soaking into the fabric, my gender filling the room with an aroused, sexual musk. It drove us both to an even higher frenzy…

Should I tell him, of the danger? That this could lead to me straining, screaming, trying to bush our baby from my aching, dripping opening?

The thought only left me wanting more. NEEDING more. I pulled at his clothes, wrenching them down, kissing along his shaft. So potent, powerful, full of seed. It was already leaking… I shivered in anticipation. The sex. The impregnation. Gestating his baby, feeling it grow and move and kick… labor, birth… the whole thing, I needed it, wanted to relish every second.

I couldn’t hold back any longer. Stood, guided him to the floor. My lover gripped my underwear. I leaned back, let him pull harder, until a ripping sound filled the room. I gasped, purred, my panties a tattered shred of fabric, torn off. My feminine gash was leaking juices down my thighs, practically dripping. I’d never been this aroused in my life, I couldn’t have stopped if I wanted to.

I wanted to ride him. Impregnate myself, without him even knowing. Make this beautiful man cum in me, force him to create a child in my body. I wanted to be in control. I pushed on his chest, straddled him. Pressed his tip against my gender, let my sex run it’s juices over it, down my lover’s shaft, let him feel how hot and wet and ready I was.

I began to lower myself, shuddering, moaning, forcing myself to go slow, relish every tiny bit that entered me. Feeling him leak pre-cum into my tunnel, laying his swimmers inside me. Just knowing that, knowing that I had a ripe, fertile egg inside that they wanted, that they would find…

His tip mashed against my cervix. I came. Felt my womanhood clamping down, milking his wonderful sex, forcing more of his beautiful, powerful cum to squirt inside me. I leaned down after, kissed him. Told him not to hold back.

I began to slide him in and out. If I hadn’t already conceived, I knew it was only a matter of time. That knowledge made me even hotter, and I picked up my pace as he began to tense. He didn’t even know what I was really doing, and that made it even more delicious. I pressed my face into his neck, feeling myself quickly reach the verge again, and moaned “cum for me baby…” in the softest, most sultry voice I could.

He did.

My lover gripped me tight, as jet after ropy jet of his seed thudded against my cervix. I immediately climaxed once more, as I felt my tunnel, my belly, fill with hot, sticky cum.

It was perfect.

We laid there after. Loving one another. I couldn’t stop rubbing my belly, smiling at the secret I’d made. Could almost feel the moment, as we laid nestled against one another, drifting to sleep, that faint fluttering inside. The egg, taking root.

Pregnant.

The very thought made me wet all over again.

I liked my secret. Took a test after a month, and cried in joy when it came out positive. I’d done it… I was carrying our baby. I grinned, wanted to hide it from him as long as possible. He had things to do, we only saw each other every once in a while. Just holding him made me overwhelmed with lust. But he had to go on a trip for three months, just as I entered my second trimester.

It was perfect.

I walked around naked all the time. Surrounded myself with mirrors. I loved every little change. My breasts, getting heavy, aching deliciously as I started getting milky. Our child slowly, inexorably grew inside, pressing my belly outward, the skin firm, tight, smooth.

I loved my secret, but I loved him more. Didn’t want him to feel like I was hiding it out of fear. So I made sure I took plenty of pictures every day, noting every little change. Giving him a sexy, fertile, beautiful timeline to easily follow. My middle became more gravid, I couldn’t keep my hands off myself. I was so excited, I’d sit naked for an entire weekend, enjoying the tight, round skin under my fingertips, imagining that I could feel myself growing oh so slowly.

Toward the start of my third trimester, I felt the first kick. God, I was so heavy, so full. My entire body screamed of fertility, motherhood. My back was bowed, chest bigger and fuller, my constantly-aroused womanhood puffy, like the pedals of a flower just about to open. I couldn’t wait for it to.

The doctors had been telling me it would be a nice, big, healthy baby. I was looking forward to meeting it, to going into labor, giving birth…

He came home. I was wearing heavy, baggy clothes. He sensed something was up. We started to play with each other, kissing, touching. Then, I started to slowly strip. And his eyes got wide. He began to smile, as I got the sweaters off, showing my massive, motherly swell. Began to bite his lip, get painfully erect as I didn’t stop taking clothes off.

It was the best sex we’d ever had. Tip mashing against my sealed cervix with every thrust. Suckling my breasts, relieving the ache, the weight. Rubbing my belly constantly. I’d never felt anything like it. Especially when the baby started to kick. The child we’d created.

Of course he was thrilled.

I could barely keep his hands off me. Not that I tried very hard. I’d tease him by pretending to go into labor. Go into the other room, start moaning, grunting, saying how heavy the head was, how much pressure I felt. He’d walk in, throbbing and stiff. I’d tell him I was about to crown, that I could feel my feminine lips bulging with his baby.

It was always amazing, always passionate.

Finally, it was time. I had been having contractions all day, feeling them get stronger, the pressure getting more powerful. But I wanted to keep this another secret. Wanted to help his fantasies come true. We were going to the mall, having a relaxing date. I laid out my clothes, and let him watch as I slowly, deliberately dressed. Sliding my panties up, covering my damp gender. Then my pants. Bra, and tee shirt. By the end, he was panting with lust, and he never even noticed the contractions, thought they were excited kicks. The t-shirt was from before I got pregnant, as were the pants. They barely fit, my gravid orb fully exposed.

We both loved it.

By noon, I could feel the head pressing firmly against my cervix, the spasms gripping my body were impossible to ignore. He started to suspect. The pressure was rising to a crescendo…

I pulled him close. “Don’t panic, I love you…” I whispered. Kissed him, while cupping his hand over my crotch. Shuddered, and heard a very quiet pop from inside me. Moaned as I felt my waters break, gushing down my birth canal, into my underwear, my pants, all over his hand, soaking everything between my legs, drenching my thighs.

His eyes went wide. Stunned, surprised. I loved it. I kept my hand over his, loosely. “It’s time hon… I won’t tell if you don’t…” I whispered in the ear of the man I loved. His breathing picked up, and I knew I was bringing his wildest dreams to life. A quick nod. I nibbled his earlobe, and focused on the once-more climbing pressure inside.

My baby was ready to be born.

Another potent contraction coursed through me, and I could tell I was fully dilated. I buried my face in my lover’s neck, whimpered, clutched tight t him as I bore down, started to give birth to the baby we’d made nine months ago. His strong hands roamed my hot, sweaty body. I didn’t mind at all, was comforted my his touches. My cervix was being spread by the head, aching, straining, burning.

It was the worst pain I’d ever been in.

I had never felt anything so amazing, so good.

Once more I pushed, biting down on the father of my child’s shoulder, easing the relentless force in my womb, while making the pressure a million times worse within it’s barrier, my feminine tunnel. Filling me, penetrating me from the inside out. Every spasm that crushed my gravid mound came with the need to force my offspring out from between my legs, and I gave in without question.

It was torture. It was heaven. My body was being pushed to it’s limits, and yet some part of me knew this is what my body was for, the point of being female. Some primal aspect of me was roaring in triumph, that I was becoming a mother, right here, in front of all these people. That they could see how fertile I was, how strong my child would be as I birthed it.

I wanted to scream, as I bore down desperately, the head slipping down the most delicate, sensitive parts of my body.

I was on the verge of orgasm, as I felt my lips starting to push out, bulging with my soon-to-be-born baby.

“Love you!” I gasped, as my opening began to press out further, and I could feel my damp underwear dragging pleasantly over the sensitive, swollen flesh. My first child was starting to crown, making my damp, delicate folds light up, burning so deliciously. Every second the worst and best of my life at the same time, and I felt like I was starting to go mad, utterly overwhelmed by the raw sensations caused by my labor.

I opened wider as I pushed. And wider. And wider. It was coming so fast, searing my poor flesh so deliciously, I couldn’t stop, needed to feel the hot, wet rush of my baby gushing out in a spray of juices! But my panties, my pants, were fighting my efforts. I could feel my lover’s hand rubbing my thighs, along my bulging clothes, running his finger up and down the fabric, to my hot, straining skin with agonizing gentleness.

I stopped for a bit, caught my breath. “Hon… are you sure you want to do this? It could be risky for you and the baby, and I don’t want…” I put a trembling finger on his lips, shushed him, and then kissed him deeply, as another contraction took me, and I bore down once more, making the bulge between my legs more significant. As my lips opened, little streams of amniotic fluid trickled from me, I was sitting in a steadily growing puddle. the air around me beginning to smell of sex, arousal, and childbirth.

I was opening so wide, and I bit my lip, resting my head on his chin as I strained. The skin seemed to be stretching so far, making the most wonderfully torturous sensations radiate from between my legs. I could feel my womanhood starting to near it’s limit, feeling tight, the baby almost fully crowned. I whimpered as I pushed, and nothing happened.

And again.

My pants… panties… they were holding the baby in place, keeping it from going further… I looked my lover in the eye, let out a groan of effort. The fingers I loved so much fumbled with my jeans button. The zipper. He slid a hand down my pants and underwear, tugged at the clothes, guided them away from my laboring opening.

He knew I didn’t want him to take them off. Just to give me enough room.

And he did.

A big push… and I couldn’t help it anymore. The head crowned fully, and then… it popped out of me! I screamed, the sudden surge of forward motion out of my body overwhelming my erotic desires. Everyone knew now. A brief examination exposed the smell, the puddle, the bulge, my lover’s hands down my pants, giving my room to deliver. Some gasped. Some watched in stunned silence. Some laughed.

But some, I could tell, were fascinated, aroused at this display of love, of the power of the female body. Those people, I wanted to watch. Wanted them to see how gloriously feminine I was right now. In the process of becoming a mother, bringing a life into this world from inside my body, out between my legs… nothing compared.

One more agonized, orgasmic scream. One more big push. One shoulder. The other. then, in a burning, hot, wet rush of movement, all the rest. Fluids pumped from between my legs, soaking everything down there once more, as the man I loved so very much withdrew our baby from my clothes, let me hold them for the first time.

It was a little girl. So beautiful. So perfect. She cried in shock, but quieted swiftly. Such a good little thing.

I was exhausted, thrilled. The ambulance showed up, and as they arrived, the need to push once more struck. I bore down carefully, and felt the placenta slipping down my body. Not nearly as large or firm as the amazing baby I held in my arms, drinking from my breast.

She was fine, the doctors told us. So was I. And this beautiful man. The three of us went home, after, and began to set about adapting to our new lives.

He proposed, that very night.

I told him only under one condition. He was never to let me have another period again.

He agreed.

fappintobirth

Well done. Instant favorite!

muchbirth-deactivated20181002

Showing Restraint

“Okay, but… you can’t go inside me, alright?”

Those words sealed my fate. I thought, if he didn’t actually go in, if we didn’t really have sex, then I couldn’t get pregnant. We’d been dry-humping for months, felt so close to each other. But one day we just got so into it, delighting in the feeling of his hardness pressing into my soft wetness, and then he murmured that he wished we didn’t have our underwear on. And I agreed.

We both stripped, and the boy I loved started slipping the head of his manhood along my feminine slit, making everything feel wonderful. I knew it was dangerous, but it didn’t matter, he wasn’t inside me, I was still a virgin. Virgins can’t get pregnant, right? At least, that was what I thought at the time. The young man’s member bumped over my clit time and again, I was helpless to do anything but lay back, moaning and quivering in joy, delighting in every moment of contact.

I felt a powerful tension coiling in my belly, driving me wild. I couldn’t talk anymore, just moaning “yes, yes, please, yes!” over and over. My first ever orgasm on the verge of eruption. My boyfriend was grunting, sweating, seemed to be holding something back. He was close too. “I’m gonna cum Will!” I cried out, feeling the energy within me beginning to snap, my womb contracting over and over as my toes curled, my feet pointed. The pleasure… it was indescribable. I wanted to feel it forever, a constant, crushing wave, reaching all the way to the tips of my body before withdrawing all the way back to my middle, only to explode out again.

I could barely hear him moan “me too… babe… oh god… Jill I’m gonna… CUUUUUUM! S-SORRY OH LORD AHN!” As his cries reached a crescendo, I felt his potent seed shoot all over my delicate, quivering lips, most of it running onto the bed, or over my thighs, but some getting worryingly close to my opening. But the feeling of his hot semen running over my sensitive gash, dripping from my clit, over my lips… it sent me over the edge all over again, some primal part of me wanting to rub myself, touch myself, guide it closer to my vulnerable womb.

I didn’t know it was already dripping into my opening, starting to let the potent sperm swim into my tunnel, start their journey toward my cervix. We laid there after, holding each other close, as unbeknowst to both of us his fertile seed was seeking out my egg, finding it, starting it’s attack on it. As I slipped my panties back on, it was already reaching critical mass, one of the cells starting to successfully burrow into the ovum, and by the time I was fully clothed and kissing him goodbye at the door, I was impregnated, already beginning my journey to motherhood.

Looking back, I could swear as I laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling, rejoicing at how amazing the sensations my boyfriend had caused in me were… I could almost feel a little flutter, my breath catching for just a second, as the fertilized egg nestled into my womb.

Of course, at the time, I didn’t realize what had happened. My boyfriend and I didn’t do anything more from then on, or at least nothing that intense. Just more fondling, kissing, things of that nature. Two months after I’d been unknowingly impregnated, Will had to leave. His family was moving out or something, and I couldn’t follow him. We said our tearful good-byes, I helped him pack even though I’d been getting tired more easily. Made sure we had our phone-numbers and such.

I never spoke to him again. As soon as the car left my sight, it was like he ceased to exist. None of my texts were answered, none of my messages replied to. I was suddenly alone once again. My parents may have been rich, even controlled most of the town and surrounding areas, but they had no idea how to raise a kid. My brother was a bastard, and I… well, I was dealing with a lot of issues with little help.

The latest one I’d discovered a month or so later. My periods had always been irregular, mostly due to stress. But I’d never just missed four in a row. Then I realized I was starting to get round, my belly firm to the touch… I couldn’t believe it. I was still a virgin, there was no way it was possible…

Then I took a test, and it was positive.

I sat on my bed, cradling my slightly rounded midriff, feeling how the skin was warmer than normal, unyielding, knowing that there was a baby inside me, that I was a mother, it would only be a matter of time before I gave birth… I couldn’t stop sobbing, terrified of what future I’d be facing, a single mother in her early teens… I, of course, tried to stay quiet. It had been made clear to me at a young age that nobody cared to hear me cry. I was supposed to be the strong, respectable heiress to the Imprig empire, after all. Couldn’t afford to look weak and distraught.

Will had been the first person I’d met to make me feel loved. And now he was gone, and his child was growing inside me. Mom would be furious… I had to hide it. We only saw each other once a week, for “Friday family time”, and I was tutored privately. None of my teachers would tell mom and dad, they didn’t care enough to even notice if I’d been knocked up. I’d just have to wear big, lose-fitting, billowy dresses to the gatherings. I was certain I could pull it off…

And so, I started my deception. I swear, every day, I felt a little heavier, a tiny bit more… pregnant. It was progressing slowly, but inexorably. I would stand naked in front of the mirror, looking my body over, noting every little change, my swelling belly, growing breasts. My back starting to curve under the weight hanging from my midriff, body looking more and more feminine, motherly. I would blush as my gaze roamed down my body, my gender starting to become more puffy, swollen, and sensitive. I found myself remembering Will running his manhood over my wet slit, how amazing it felt, wondering how much better it would be with my body like this…

The dinners went from cold, dismissive events done so mom and dad could pretend they cared to awkward, tense affairs where I tried to eat and talk as little as possible. My proper, lovely clothes hiding my shameful condition. I would feel mom’s icy-cold gaze on me, my baby picking up on my stress, starting to move and kick inside. I’d hide how the strange sensation made me feel, but sometimes I was scared that Rebecca had sensed something was wrong.

My grades were slipping as I got bigger, my itchy, tight skin in my midriff a constant, nagging distraction. My offspring I had accidentally created would squirm and shift within me, making me bite my lip to hold back gasps, and make it impossible to study. My shirts and dresses started to rub against by suddenly sensitive bellybutton, causing my inability to focus to become even worse. But I managed to keep passing, if only barely, so nothing was ever said to my parents. My secret was safe.

The worst part was… I would stand, looking my reflection, and I couldn’t help but think how well I carried my condition, how beautiful I looked swollen and full of child. In my third trimester, I almost couldn’t stop touching and rubbing myself all over, everything was constantly tingling, like an energy slowly building, as my due date approached. I couldn’t come to terms with it at the time, but… being pregnant felt amazing. the only thing that could have made it better was if I had someone to share it with. All the shame and fear came from outside me, but secretly, I couldn’t wait to meet my child that was growing in my teenage womb.

And then… the thing I feared most happened. I woke up Friday morning to an odd, squeezing feeling. It was early, but I found I couldn’t fall back asleep. So I looked myself over once more, smiling faintly, noting how low the weight within me seemed to be sitting. I got dressed, feeling another pinching spasm run through me. I shook my head, trying to ignore the pain until it relaxed.

It wasn’t possible… had it really already been nine months? Was I… in labor? No… it has to just be braxton hicks or something. My body preparing for the main event. I rubbed my swollen, warmer-than-usual belly for reassurance. But for the rest of the day, I kept feeling my womb tighten, the head of my baby pressing down harder and harder, a force steadily building in my hips, my pelvis. I kept denying it to myself, but it was only a matter of time.

By the time I received the call from mom that it was time for dinner, the pressure was almost unbearable. Part of me just wanted to lay back and open my legs, wait for my child to emerge from my body, but I panted through my current squeezing pain, and got dressed. A big dress, poofy enough to hide even my heavy, swollen pregnancy, and a pair of panties. Not having the time nor desire to do anything more. The heavy clothes made me even hotter, but I managed to compose myself, keep a calm face, and greet my father and technically-step-mother.

I sat at the table, and as always, stilted, forced conversation began, as my parents tried to fool themselves and us into thinking we were little more than trophies to them. Meanwhile, I opened my legs wide, pretended to nibble at the food that was in front of me, and forcing myself to stay calm and breathe as my contractions kept getting closer together, stronger… the head felt so big… heavy, pressing down…

Oh god…

I gasped aloud, as I heard a quiet pop, and the pressure finally eased. Then, my panties and thighs became soaking wet, and I shuddered, gripping the tablecloth. My waters had broken, amniotic fluid gushing out of my opening, drenching my beautiful dress, making a puddle between my legs, , dripping onto the floor softly. Unfortunately, my reprieve was short lived, the force of my soon-to-be-born baby’s head doubling, tripling, making my eyes tear up, the need to push starting to course through me.

I needed to birth… needed to push… had to get my underwear off, give the baby room to come out… but there was no way I could do it without mom or dad noticing. Already, I was getting a furious look from the woman in question. “I was talking Jill. You will listen when your betters speak, do you understand?” I nodded, another contraction tearing across my womb, feeling like my midriff was begin crushed, driving the breath from me. “Y… y-yes mother…” I moaned.

Her eyes went wide. I’d made a mistake, oh god… “Mother?! Your the daughter of that slutty maid that took advantage of your father’s kind nature. I am not your mother, you glorified urchin. The only reason you aren’t kept with all the rest is because your loving father claimed you, because he wanted a girl. I’m disgusted you’re so stupid that I have to remind you of this. Do I make myself perfectly clear?!”

Even knowing how dangerous the situation I’d put myself into was, I could barely listen. My body needed to deliver, needed me to push, but I was fighting it as much as I could. My contraction was forcing the head into my cervix, forcing it to open wider, making everything ache and burn. I bit my lip, gripped the tablecloth, swallowed the whimper that was fighting to escape my mouth as the relentless pressure, the sensation of my most delicate parts being forced open pounded through me, and managed to level my voice as I said “Yes… Rebecca. I understand. I’m s-sorry.”

A vicious glare, and then she returned to her conversation with my brother, whom she was so proud of for some reason I couldn’t understand, chattering with him as he poked and swiped at his phone. Talking with his stupid friends and playing his stupid games as I fought the aching need of my body to bear down and get the baby I never meant to let take root in my womb out.

For what seemed like several eternities, I didn’t put, the raw, unassisted contractions making my offspring slip past my cervix, into my birth canal, opening me agonizingly wide, and begin to slip further and further down. But even with the pain, there was an eroticness to being opened that far, being so completely filled… I’d never had anything inside me, not even my fingers, and this was a fullness I could never had imagined.

The head started to cause a sharp pain inside, and I realized that my firstborn child was about to break my hymen, take my virginity. I wanted to push, make it happen faster, not hurt as bad… but I was already red, sweaty, trying to hide my whimpers and pants so as not to attract Rebecca’s attention. If I started giving into my body… it would be too obvious. So I sat there, eyes wide, forcing myself to pretend to eat, pretend to act normal, as, with awful slowness, my baby took my virginity, straining my hymen until it was finally overtaxed, the skin tearing, making me bury my head in my arms for just a moment, tears leaking from my eyes as I felt blood trickle from my abused, pregnant girlhood.

But once more, I forced myself to pretend to be fine, be normal. Smiling and nodding when I was asked questions like a good girl. But, inch by inch, the thing I’d come to fear, to love, was so close to being born, I could feel my lips starting to bulge out, terrifyingly close to crowning.

What could possibly be taking so long, why wasn’t dinner over? It had to have been days, months, years at this point. I felt like I’d been in labor for as long as it took nations to rise and fall, it wasn’t possible my family hadn’t even managed to get beyond the main course, potentially another full hour before I was finally alone. But my body didn’t care how scared I was of being discovered, it could only focus on the infant sliding out of my sensitive opening, doing everything it could to help it.

I panted, gasped through another contraction, my sex pushing out, starting to open. I couldn’t see, but there was a burn as my feminine slit stretched around the bowling-ball between my legs. And again, slipping forward more, crowing bit by bit even as I fought the need to push. I could feel my wet panties brushing over my opening, making me shiver, that small pleasant feeling a merciful break from the pain that was driving me mad.

I had no idea becoming a mother would be this hard, this intense… I started to spread wider and wider, the head forcing my poor body to open around the mass of my firstborn, my thighs quivering and the burn of my straining lips starting to throb through my entire gender. Still fighting myself, forcing myself to not push my baby out right here, into my panties, under my dress.

But even then, I was still birthing it. The head was crowning hard into my panties, making them bulge out. I kept trying to ignore it, tell myself I could wait it out… but it was too much. It was overwhelming me, hurting too much, my body straining. I had to…

I had to push.

My fingers curled into fists, and I let out a pained groan, finally, at long last giving into the relentless need to bear down, to let it come out of my gender and finally be born. My toes curled within my socks and shoes, and after so much steady, slow progress, the sudden hot, burning rush was astonishing, making me scream out loud. The lie was up, everyone heard me. Heard me cry out as the intensity of my impending motherhood consumed me.

Mom and Dad were staring at me, astonished. I had to say something, do something… “I… R-rebecca I… I’m… pruggggghhhhhhh! PREGNANT!” Another strong push, the head pressing hard into my underwear, it’s widest point starting to slip past my lips, stretched to their limit. One more quick push, and I wailed once more, the head emerging in a sudden surge, gushing more fluid from between my legs, tears streaming from my face.

Mom stood, disgusted. “You little whore…” Turning, leaving the table, she called over her shoulder: “Take your slut-baby and leave, once you’re done. You’re no daughter of mine, you disgusting tramp!” With that, she, father, and my brother left the dining room, leaving me to my ordeal.

I wanted to be sad, or angry, or upset. But I couldn’t focus the energy to deal with that. All I could do was push. “I… I need to puuuuaaaaaaahhhhhhsh!” I bellowed, once more giving into my body’s needs. and the shoulders started to pass, my underwear holding my child back, making it harder, but I pushed with all my might, every fiber of my being devoted to the task of childbirth. My body was stronger, and with a hot, wet, burning rush, one shoulder, and then the other, finally were forced out, followed by the rest of the body in a gush of amniotic fluid, making a huge puddle under and around me.

I laid there for a moment, feeling my infant squirming between my thighs. Finally, I lifted my dress, pulled my child away from my abused sex, and cradled it. I set my baby on the table, cord trailing from between my legs, and pulled off my dress, naked except for my socks, shoes, and ruined undies. I picked up my newborn once more, and held it to my breast, let it suckle, shivering as the milk was finally drained from my aching breasts.

I loved my newborn… girl. Heh… She was a girl. I was a mom… I was having a hard time believing it, comprehending it. this was Will’s daughter. Well… his and mine. She was beautiful. More beautiful than anything I’d ever seen…

I looked around the house. Thought of everything I’d just lost, compared it to the little girl in my arms…

It wasn’t a contest.

I stripped off my soaked underwear, left them and my dress in the dining room. Walked out of the front door. I never looked back.