Fiction of Birth @birthedstars - Tumblr Blog

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Masterlist

Introduction:

24 yrs old. Go by they/them. Hopelessly obsessed with pregnancy, labor, and birth for several years and this is kind of my personal outlet for the kink that snowballed.

Requests:

I would greatly appreciate that if you submit a request, you have your age in your bio. If you do not want your request tagging a main account or what have you, clarify or present an alternative identification to tag the story with if you want to find it amongst other stories.

Hard No's With Requests:

If you are a MINOR, your request will be deleted. If it comes to my attention that you are lying about your age, you will also be blocked.

Minors.

Incest (step/non-biological family pairs are fine).

Scat, fecal matter, etc.

Feederism.

Beastiality(this does NOT include anthropomorphs/monsters/fantasy creatures).

Vore and Unbirth.

Violent forced sex(CNC is fine, but otherwise I can't write it).

Still birth/child death.

Excessive gore. (bursting, unmedicated C-section, etc.).

What I Love:

Difficult labor/Birth

Orgasmic labor/birth

Breeding

Fantasy Setting

Sex induced labor

Rapid & long labor/birth

Birth denial

Twin/Multiple pregnancy

Other Housekeeping:

Spam is not appreciated.

Please do not DM.

I'm not open to Roleplaying.

#Important #birth fiction #labor fiction #maiesiophilia #labor kink #preg kink #birth kink #fpreg #birth fic #labor fic #nsfw #18+ only

bulgingpushh

idk about you but i dont want to see AI in the birth fetish community

secanik2

Nor the pregnancy fetish community for that matter

erilikestum

Yes this includes stories, and yes this includes your ai generated cover for your original stories.

Last Day Out

"I didn't think so many people would be out today," Tasha murmured, suddenly self conscious of the white sundress she was wearing.

The sunlight had made it so easy to see the taut, stretchmark riddled skin of her dark brown belly with a close look. Ryan–her husband– had urged her to get out of the house these past few days as she inched closer to her 42nd week of pregnancy. She much preferred trying to bounce on a medicine ball in the privacy of her home rather being on display out in the open. But the former has proven useless in getting this baby wanting to come out.

"It's fine baby, no one's gawking," Ryan said, wrapping a comforting hand around her side. "And if they are they are admiring how beautiful you look."

Tasha allowed herself to relax into her husbands side. "If you say so..."

#birth denial #public birth #birth kink #labor kink #preg kink #clothing birth #18 + content #nsfw

Twenty-Eight Days After the First

A prequel to "The Raffle" requested(unfortunately lost the full request text) by @toomuchbirth

TW/CW: Traumatic birth, government forced pregnancy, vague allusion to death

#birth kink #labor kink #difficult birth #public birth #mutual birth #pregnancy kink #nsfw #18 + content #forced pregnancy #forced birth #rapid pregnancy #rapid birth #dystopia

The Raffle

You look wide eyed at the notification on your med watch. You've been picked. You are pregnant. It was insanely lucky that you'd nearly managed to go a few years after graduation without getting chosen. One of your old high school friends got raffled the day after and raffled again the following month. Now it is your turn.

-1st Phase-

History books said that, at one relatively small time, the raffle was met with fury. Each month was a new protest filled with the rapidly impregnated. Now everyone begrudgingly accepted it as a part of life in the chrome future everyone's great great grandparents fantasized about. You press a finger below your navel. It was already firm to the touch and your nipples itched against the fabric of your sleep shirt.

You were automatically cleared from work for the day so there was no need to rush out and do anything. Your objective today was to relax and do your singular task.

You decide to get a shower–a simple anti-bacteria spray down and think about the most important part of this day. The birth. A younger person, without someone to advise them correctly, would think that going to one of the city hospitals would be the safest and best option. But you knew better. There were stories of ambulance c-sections with minimal anesthesia and hospitals practically restraining birthers in unrelenting binds and stirrups. Even in facilities they gave very little time to actually push before they enforced an extraction protocol. Medical staff were trained to be fully optimized toward a healthy delivery for the child. The only good choice was deciding to go it alone.

Upon finishing your shower, you stopped in front of your mirror. A pouch of a belly, big enough to cup beneath your palm has grown on you. You can’t imagine it taking weeks of time just to get a little bump like this. Some books say pregnancy used to take an entire 40 weeks. Thank goodness for optimization.

If you were going to do this in your apartment, you'd need supplies. You put on some sweatpants, a loose T-shirt and head out of your apartment.

The Mag-lev train, one of the best benefits of this present, is packed full with people. The vibe is different than normal. A young couple looking naively excited. A woman with a baby barely a year old idly massaged the base of her belly with an exhausted look in her eyes. This was raffle day.

You procure over the counter grade stim packs only good for minor cuts, antibacterial salves, bandages, a basket big enough to be a bassinet, meal kits to ease your cravings. Hopefully that would be enough, because that is all you can afford. You spend a bit too much time trying to navigate the sparsely stocked and overcrowded baby area and only make it out with a few items of need.

The attendant looks to your midsection. “Won the raffle, huh? Good luck, I heard they've been making some rough ones.”

They send you on your way, but that comment and obvious stare make you look down to your bump.

You see that your shirt has noticeably pushed forward in the hour of shopping. The bump looks bigger than any of the average diagrams you looked at in the past. The band of your sweat pants were already starting to dip below your waist. Time was ticking towards the inevitable.

#birth kink #labor kink #preg kink #birth denial #difficult birth #surprise twin #scifi #18 + content #nsfw #reader insert #rapid birth #rapid pregnancy

pumpkinbirth

🤰 / 🍼 / 2️⃣ / ✈️ or 🚃 / 🩲 or 💬 / 🪑 or 🧎 / 💨/ 🧠 (good lord this looks more complicated than it actually is, I just wanted to offer alternative options as a writer myself xoxo)

When it happens, I can tell exactly when it really hits you; that deep, insistent ache from inside.

To be fair, that in itself isn't entirely new, it's been happening on and off all day, but all it takes is a little firm reassurance on my end for you to leave the matter where it lies. After all, you trust me entirely; you trusted me when I explained away your weight gain over the past several months as nothing more than an unfortunate concentration of water weight around your midsection, and you even trusted me when I easily rationalized your water breaking an hour ago as just a spontaneous accident, and certainly nothing that would warrant us missing out on our trip.

That was your first mistake.

"Stop squirming," I murmur, noticing the way you've been trying to find a comfortable position for the last fifteen minutes. Your apology is quiet, marked by a hitch in your breath, and I don't miss the way your hands are currently grasping at the edge of your seat. "People are going to stare, you know," I add, although it's a little late for this; just about everyone on this train has taken notice of the clearly uncomfortable and quite heavily pregnant girl, and some have already whispered among themselves, wondering if it's even safe for you to be traveling in your condition.

Of course, you haven't heard a word of it, not when you're so focused on trying not to sweat and squirm in your seat beside me.

"I-I don't feel good…it feels like s-something is—"

"Didn't you hear me the first time? It's nothing, now stop it," I admonish you coldly, narrowing my eyes down at you. God, you look so good like this, with your cheeks flushed and brows furrowed, trying so hard to be good for me no matter how much your body is screaming that something is wrong. "Just sit. Still. No wriggling, no whining, and no pushing."

Confusion flickers through your eyes at the last words, but before you can even ask what I mean, you press your lips firmly together, whimpering as another tight, dreadful pain tightens its grip around your midsection. Sweat beads at your temples, and I can see the way your belly visibly contorts with the force of the contraction. I want to touch it, want to feel the sensation of those babies I put in you moving steadily downward, but I keep my hands to myself. For now.

Unfortunately for you, it becomes clear that whatever is happening to you is getting impossible to ignore, and when you shift in your seat once again I can see a significant bulging in your leggings that wasn't there when we had first sat down. Tears stream down your face as you try to tell me that something's wrong, something is stretching your poor little pussy wide open, but the pain has stolen all the sound from your throat and left you a whimpering mess as you try to obey me, try not to push.

You last all of fifteen seconds.

"It h-hurts, it's burning, I can't—" you moan through clenched teeth, and the bulge in your leggings grows bigger as whatever it is seems to be forcing its way out of you whether you make the conscious choice to push or not. When you finally give in and bear down against my wishes, a strangled mix between a yelp and a sob tears its way out of you, and all at once the soaked fabric between your legs stretches outward with a solid, squirming mass. I make no move to help you as you fumble to pull them down enough to reveal the wriggling, wailing baby that had just been born into your pants, a baby you had most certainly known nothing about.

Loud murmurs and hurries whispers of our fellow passengers erupt around us, and as you look up at me with a desperate question in your eyes, all I can do is shake my head disapprovingly. "You just couldn't do the one thing I asked of you," I click my tongue condescendingly. "and now all of these people are going to have to watch you give birth again."

Your face drains of what little color remains, but before you can open your mouth to ask what I mean, you feel it again; that awful, contracting tightness from within you, that feeling of something massive inching its way down. The cry that tears free of you almost seems to harmonize with the wails of your first baby, but instead of giving in and pushing, you shakily try to press your thighs closed.

I lift an eyebrow slightly, unable to keep an amused smile from rising to my face as I realize that despite the agonizing revelation of the pregnancy that I hid from yourself, you're still trying to obey me. Still trying not to push. "Hm…I suppose you do still know how to be a good girl," I muse aloud, and a tearful smile rises to your face, even as the head of your second baby still valiantly tries to ease its way out of you, centimeter after excruciating centimeter.

birthedstars

Birthing For Her Art

Laura was a young artist. In one of the very cliche definitions of the title. Eccentric to a fault, genuine about her craft and contained a hint, maybe even a heaping spoonful, of insanity to balance it all out.

Angela and Eric had very little idea what they were getting into when they signed up for Laura's art project. The project was supposed to show passion in the various stages of pregnancy. The euphoria in breeding, the elation of seeing the growing bump and the intensity of birth.

They'd merely assumed they'd be the breeding stage and there would be other subjects for the other stages, but they hadn't read the entire project summary before signing on. The pair heard creampies for pay and didn't give it a second thought. They were in it the whole way through.

"Ok, what…position do you want us in," Angela asked, still covering her breasts.

Laura was still meticulously arranging her pencils and brushes. She diverted her attention to the pair. Angela was about as tall as Eric, lean figure- her size all but guaranteed that she'd be showing early on. Eric was a large man, and through her research, Laura had concluded that everyone in his family was huge- even the women.

pumpkinbirth

Never before had you looked so perfect.

The soft lighting of the gallery hall draws attention to each and every contour of your exposed flesh; emphasizing the flushed patches of skin atop your shoulders, across your face and chest. Sweat glistens at your hairline, your temples, a droplet trailing along the column of your throat and following the downward curve of your craned neck. Your arms are drawn taut and bound behind you, elbows and wrists touching each other, and the sturdy chain links clink softly as you absently test the strength of the anchor point.

You stand with your legs wide apart, your plush thighs trembling slightly as the cool air of the room clashes with the heat emanating from your skin. In a bid for a little more comfort, you attempt to adjust your stance, but the spreader bar attached to both of your ankles make this an impossible task. In every sense of the word, you are well and truly bound, and with the choice of movement having been stripped from you, there is only one thing left for you to focus on.

One thing left for everyone to see.

With your head bowed it is difficult for you to tell whenever someone approaches you, but they make their presence known well enough; after all, you are an interactive piece. Hands roam over your sweat-slickened flesh, some tracing the line of your backbone, while others follow the curve of your heavy belly, cradling the hanging swell as if they are the one responsible for it. Voices surround you, some murmuring amongst themselves as they observe from afar, some rumbling close to you as they praise and admire your artfully bound and swollen form. There are coos of awe when they watch and feel your taut belly tense with contractions, coupled with dark chuckles of arousal as disembodied fingers trace between your legs, collecting and spreading the slickness they find there.

It is only when your water breaks with a thick gush that the hands remove themselves from you, your admirers stepping back and taking their place amongst the crowd that has gathered around you. The rules are clear from this point; they cannot touch, and they cannot help. You can’t see your audience in your current position, but you can feel their eyes roaming over you; watching as more amniotic fluid trickles freely from between your spread legs, syrupy droplets spattering onto the floor and accumulating in a messy puddle beneath you. Again your legs tremble as you cry out, another contraction rippling through your body, and your eyes squeeze shut as you brace yourself as best you can.

The restraints binding your arms shift and clink as you pitch further forward, curling in on yourself as much as you can as you bear down and give your first, true push. It feels so primal this way; your body bare and your belly swaying beneath you as you obey the whims of your instincts, pushing and panting in a way that borders on animal. Leather and metal creak as you move in what little ways you can, writhing and whimpering as each push brings you closer to the peak of your performance. Faintly you register the voices of the crowd, encouragement and objectification swirling and blurring and surrounding you entirely.

A keening cry erupts from your throat when you finally, finally feel it, the deliciously burning stretch of the head fully crowning. More fluid spurts out of you, and at this point there isn’t an inch of you that isn’t glistening with either sweat or birthing fluid. Your slick thighs tremble, your knees too, and you vaguely realize that you’re only being kept upright by your arm restraints. There isn’t time to dwell on this, though, not when you’re so close—

Your broken voice echoes throughout the exhibition hall, reverberating in a way that seems to qualify as art all on its own. With one last valiant push, you feel the shoulders ease out of you one by one, followed by the rest of the baby in a searing rush of the last of your waters. One of the gallery attendants swiftly moves forward to catch it, and the wailing of the newborn is soon eclipsed by the enraptured voices of your audience, commending both your performance and the gallery itself for hosting such an experience.

#labor kink #birth kink #public birth #pregnancy kink

hush-writes-preg

If you could be 'pregnant' with anything non-human, what would you choose to carry?

It could be any sort of living being or inanimate object.

(I'm really curious about what makes our pregnancy-fixated brains happy at the moment.)

#Dragons will always have a place in my kink controlled heart #Evem though i dont think ive written a fic with a full dragon birth #just hybrids and stuff but maybe that must change

hush-writes-preg

If you could be 'pregnant' with anything non-human, what would you choose to carry?

It could be any sort of living being or inanimate object.

(I'm really curious about what makes our pregnancy-fixated brains happy at the moment.)

Locked In

Nessa's fingers jittered across her controller. One, wide spread, leg bounced anxiously as her character narrowly dodged a combo string. She was just getting to the second phase of the fight and things were only getting harder.

Her firm belly coiled tight beneath her hoodie, very nearly causing her to mistime a dodge roll. It had been doing it with increasing intensity and frequency since she started no-life-ing the game a few days ago. Everytime it did it cost her run; a missed dodge, a panic roll into an incredibly delayed attack, a flinch causing her to heal at the worst moment – one cramp a couple hours ago hit so hard she pissed herself and unplugged her controller on accident. She was close to just calling it for the night and taking some pain meds for the cramps and hip pain, but each run felt like the one. She was so damn close.

Her fingers mashed hard into her controller as her stomach tightened even harder, as the pain in her hips and back mounted, as she felt a blisteringly sharp pain within her vagina.

“Fuuuuck you, craaaaamps,” Nessa grit her teeth through the pain.

The boss’ HP slowly whittled down as the cramps became faster. Nessa couldn't let the discomfort cause her to rush; no mistakes this time, this was the run. A pressure in her bottom intensified; It felt like she had to take shit but she ignored it. Bathroom break later, final boss now. Just had to hold it in. The urgent feeling to just bear down with the cramps threatened to consume her as the boss began one long combo string.

Instinct and hours of runs took over fingers. No amount of pressure or pain could distract her while she was in this kind of flowstate. Dodge right, dodge left, roll under the legs, parry, parry, She unconsciously spread her legs wider than before, her body pushed something firm through her with its own effort. The combo ended, but her concentration didn't; her character deftly took advantage of the lag openings.

Another cramp gripped her body. Nessa groaned loudly as the pressure peaked and what she thought would be the final blow left the boss’ HP at a thin sliver of red. It reared back for another string.

“C'mon, this is the one, this is the one–nghhhhhhhh!” Nessa growled as a burning sensation encompassed her already throbbing labia.

She entered her flow as if nothing was happening. Her body opened wider and wider, skin strained against skin, spurts of fluid drenched the crotch of her sweats. The boss' combo ended as her legs started to shake with an anxious excitement. This was it.

One final swing missed her narrowly, she bit her lip as her character swung into the boss’ model and the pressure made her back slightly arch. And then the boss music cut. The boss slowly turned into mist and the victory anthem rang through her small room.

“I did it….holy shit…YES, I DID IT,” Nessa, ignoring every pain, leapt out of her chair with a victorious shout as the boss dissipated into smoke. Not a second later the pressure between her legs released and a weight dropped into the crotch of her sweats.

“What the fuck…ow, owowow!” she gingerly reached toward the mass as she became aware of the struggle her body had gone through.

The mass squirmed and wailed at her touch just as the endgame credits started to roll. A simple pain med wouldn't take care of this.

#cryptic pregnancy #oblivious pregnancy #birth kink #labor kink #preg kink #clothing birth #nsfw #18 + content #short reads

pickledpet

I wish my chest was uncomfortably tight and my nipples puffy and leaky. I wish I had a huge torpedo shaped belly drooping slightly between my legs, packed completely full with my bellybutton easily visible through my clothes.

I wish I could very clearly feel my contractions ramping up and amniotic fluid steadily leaking into my soaked through panties.

If you saw me like that would you prefer to watch me struggle, trying to keep my breathing even while constantly fondling my bump, very obviously in labour or would you prefer to see me lose control and start pushing while begging you to help me pull my jeans down cause the head is trying to come out?

birthedstars

I sit silently in the car you're very clearly about to ruin. You told me you were no where close to popping when you got in, but a highway construction closure and over an hour of gridlocked traffic said otherwise. Sweat matted your hair to your skin, your belly was obviously contracting beneath your tight fitting shirt, and your legs had slowly parted to give me a view of your light blue jeans darkening at the crotch.

Your panting is restrained and the groaning that crawls up your throat to come out a muted scream behind your sealed lips. I questioned your state as if I didn't know what was going on just to see if you'd lie.

"No, just h-hot!"

The air conditioning was at max and it was barely hitting a 70 outside.

"Baby is just moving a lot, I–ough–i'm fine!"

Your belly is so rigid it looks like a box instead of an elongated melon. The crotch of your jeans started to bulge outward and you struggle to keep your hands away from it. You try to close your legs but it never lasts long; the second your back arches and your low belly seizes your legs hike open.

We aren't getting out of this traffic any time soon, so I hope you keep this up for as long as you can. I wonder how long it will take for you to finally give up, scream the truth, and peel your soaked jeans down to reveal the beginning of a massive crown.

#18 + content #nsfw #birth kink #labor kink #preg kink #birth denial #clothing birth

Origin's of Sorcery

Inspired by this post here

Draconic

A bloodcurdling shriek, one of many in the last few hours of moonlight, hushed the castle to silence. Once known for her cold composure, Queen Serena squat deeply with her fingers dug hard into a length of cloth overhead, body free of gowns and drenched with sweat, and truly massive, unnaturally blushed belly hanging off of her abdomen.

For years she'd held off concession to the court and retinues wants for an heir and a king consort. For her, the father of her heir needed to be of the finest stock not just some land owner or a rich idiot who could vaguely negotiate; those were all things she had or could teach. She needed her heir to be strong. Powerful.

The contraction released, leaving her head hung low and body heaving. Her maids wiped the copius amounts of sweat off her face and pulling away her dark hair stuck to her brow. The babe has fully been in her canal for hours and she could feel the ridges of scales and the obscene heat pulsing from its body.

Dragons often took the visages of common men and women just to experience normalcy. Finding one willing to bed a queen required luck...and a copious amounts of gold her advisors would have not let her use had she known. It was quite a gamble; her life and standing in court just for a suitable heir.

The court physician knelt beside her with a waifish posture about him. He considered his words carefully as her stomach began to tremor another contraction.

"Your majesty, you're feverish and the child maybe stuck. We may have to consider other means–"

"I'll find the strength to gut you with your scalpel if you dare touch me or my heir with anything but your hands," Serena growled, her sunken tired eyes still held power.

Her blistering red belly seized. Serena's voice rises from growl to a cry. The physician shrunk back to his position with his accursed tools. She bore down with a howl, forcing her heir to slowly press against her swollen folds. Her thighs shook and quivered. She would get this baby out on jer own. She tugged on the overhead cloth as the head finally begun to open. The heat emanating from the child burned her sensitive nethers and its large head stretched them until it as though she'd break. There were was only cautious, almost fear stricken, support from her aides as her crotch distended outward. Most have seen birth or experienced it and it was clear what they all thought they would be leaderless before sun broke the horizon.

"Come! Come! COOOME!" Serena pushed with everything she had, willing her body to let loosen its grip.

Her body recoiled violently as the head burst from her. Steamy fluid spilled out beneath her but she wasn't worried about that; this contraction was waning. Without even a breath of a break, without letting her court physician even process the state of her, the queen bore down on the scale ridged shoulders.

Her Physician eyes went wide with recognition. "Your majesty you must stop—!"

Serena threw her head back with a monstrous scream and her hips arched as she made the room witness her heir tear away from her stretched thin lips. Her heir slid out at the speed of cold honey – belly fully compressed around her womb and body shaking with effort to brin both shoulders out, then the torso and eventually the legs.

Steam bellowed from the gush of fluid and the massive child as it was freed from its confines.

The room was in a stunned silence at the child lain in bundle of soft cloth beneath their queen. Serena dropped to her knees and picked up her heir, ignoring the pulse of pain between her legs, the steady drip of fluid that ushered toward unconsciousness the molten heat of her childs scale patched skin.

"Welcome your future queen," she said as her heir took its first cry.

Fey

Mathus lay exhausted against Fleur's lap. Her dainty fingers went through his hair and traced the strained features of his face as he moaned.

"My love, I don't feel well. The dancing and the food usually doesn't make me feel like this," Mathus massaged his stomach. It was greatly bloated and cramping every other second it felt like.

"Hush, Mathus, nothing is wrong. All is as it should be," Fleur whispered into his ear.

The pressure in his hips was unnatural. It was though something was being forced through them and couldn't quite find space to yet. Even stranger, he felt open. It was as though what was between his legs before had suddenly disappeared into mist and left a much larger entrance between his legs.

Gods, Mathus could feel the pressure getting worse and even worse he could feel an aching desire tremor between his legs and through his nipples.

"Fleur, please, It's not right..."

Her face dropped into a cheek puffed pout. "I thought you trusted me, my love. What you are feeling is natural after having so much of our food, drink, dance, and, well, my love. You will be fine, just breathe and I'll take care of you."

Soothing and sweet, Fleur's voice caressed his nerves just as it did when she asked him to follow her to her home. It had been days–at least ten by Mathus' best guess– of revelry, sex, and very little else. Around day three he noticed the swelling and Fleur assured him it was nothing odd. But its gotten worse, he felt— he was huge and irritatingly uncomfortable.

"Need you to touch me~" Mathus grumbled, looking pathetically needy in her gaze. His former guild mates would be crying in laughter if they saw him now.

Fleur grinned, reaching her fingers to his tits that had grown fat and rigid. A simple twist sent a shiver through his body. His solid beer belly stiffened as he fell into pleasure.

"That it, my love, just enjoy yourself "

The downward pressure built with every swipe Fleur took on his swollen nipples and the cramping that went across his abdomen

Mathus' body stretched around the solid mass traveling through the and it filled him with the need to rub his cock. His hips ground against the air as he reached downward only for his wrist to be caught between Fleur's fingers.

"No, no, trust me. I'll do all the work for you," Fleur grasped his hand and reached into his trousers instead.

Her touch...It felt so...wrong; not at all like the times he needed to rub one out. An intense cramp wrapped around his abdomen, powerful urge gripped his mind the moment Fleur's fingers twisted on the small bump between his thighs.

Unconsciously, his legs moved back. The weight in the bowl of his pelvis demanded more room.

"That's it my love...that's it."

Mathus' eyes rolled back, his breath now a wispy growl. His bloated belly shifted downward as his body forced something through him. He couldn't focus on the sensation long with Fleur's fingers all over his pecs and crotch.

A deep pressure flared at the same moment he felt his body approaching the apex. His body spread wider. His deep, gravely voice hitched as he could feel himself readying to cum. His hips thrusted upward in a pulse as if he was bucking up into Fleur. A burning coasted beneath his pleasure so silently he ignored it.

"Oh, gods...GODS!" Mathus body arched as the pressure rapidly released. He laid there squirming, mouth agape in Fleur's lap. The tremors in his bump and hips were nearly endless as he felt a huge mass drive through him with the wave of his climax.

Mathus gasped as a gush of fluid rushed out of him. It was the biggest load of cum he'd ever felt come out of him. He hadn't wished to ruin his trousers like this but coming on Fleurs hands were worth replaceable clothes. The bloating in his belly felt gone and he felt so much lighter.

"T-that was amazing my love," Mathus panted tiredly as Fleur massaged his cheeks.

A writhing in his trousers roused him briefly. Then he heard a mewling cry. Mathus eyes darted from his now throbbing crotch and Fleur's eyes .

"W-what was that, Fleur?"

"Oh, just first of many, my love!" Fleur giggled. "How about we do some more dancing?"

Wild Magic

Tianne scrambled to the back of the healers tent clutching her bare scintilating belly. The rain covered the howls of pain from the clerics nursing limbs scarred with necrosis and crimson missiles stabbed into them.

"Oh gods, I didn't mean for this! I didn't want this!" Her eyes darted wildly from one writhing body to another.

"It's ok, Tianne, we just need you to calm down," an unaffected cleric approached, hands out stretched like they were cornering a wild animal. "We just need to put you to sleep, and all will be well."

Several knights from the expedition filtered through the entrance, swords drawn and aimed with a single purpose. Tianne's breath quickened, anxiety taking the reins of her mind.

"Sheathe your blades," the cleric turned to the knights and back to Tianne, "they mean no harm, just calm down-"

"N-no! They'll kill me, I know it! I didn't do anything wrong–"

A flash of searing light exploded from Tianne's belly. The knights and healers in the room collapsed to their knees in a chorus of pained screeching and cursing as the rubbed their eyes. Before Tianne could shout an apology, the room warped in her version like an oil painting being doused with water and suddenly she was standing in the forest.

Not a second later, the horns ruptured the sky. She had to run. There was little choice before but now there was none.

What wrong had she done to deserve her life falling apart in less than a day. The scouting mission had gone wrong they told her. The magical disturbance they were investigsting had wiped out everyone in her detachment, including Damian. The revelation that she'd never see him again was how the first burst of magic occurred.

The thought of never seeing her husband twisted around her throat as tight as a garrote. Her stomach trembled and flipped with unease and another flash of light engulfed her. Small rodents and song birds became unseen and a flight of butterflies and illusory petals blossomed at her feet.

As she ran, her stomach had noticeably swollen into a firm, rounded pouch.

~~~

Tianne's breath heaved roughly despite efforts to control them.

"God's, please show me mercy," Tianne whimpered as her hands gripped the writhing, glimmering mass of flesh that was now her abdomen.

The knights have been following her trail of magical chaos and now she couldn’t even move. It was difficult to even wrap her mind around the end of her life let alone the fact that under the course of a few hours she'd grown pregnant. Each surge of magic made her stomach more elongated, added another deep grooved stretchmark and illicited more active movemnt from within. She lost count of the surges that had happened so far and but she looked ready to burst. Gods she might burst at this rate.

Running became too difficult now that Tianne had the weight of a baby jostling on her hips and resigned herself to hiding in a cave. In the midst of begging the divine for aid another surge pulsed within her belly.

A distant, fluid choked cry of a knight echoed its way through the cavern and as her stomach stretched forward again, she was made silent and glittering bubbles filtered from her mouth. Her legs trembled as her belly dropped, a weighty head fell into her pelvis.

"Noooo, too fast...too faaast," Tianne's eyes went wide as the next spasm hit her. She suddenly couldn't move. Fluid burst into her trousers and the head of a baby drove through her. Being magically paralyzed, her bump was stuck rigid and wrapped tight around her womb, forcing the baby through her body at a rapid pace. The magic waned the moment the head began to bulge into her trousers.

Tianne almost fell to her knees, heaving and weeping in the darkness. She needed to keep moving Her stomach was still tight around her, pushing the baby out of her unprepared canal. The brights veins of her writhing belly glowed again. Her vision went cross, from the magic or the bewildering pain she was in she couldn’t tell nor did she care to. Tianne managed to pull her pants down to her knees as the her body forced the huge head through her, they were too tight to move in with her low hanging belly anyway.

"God's above please stop this please! Please! Pleas–UuuuuuuAAAAAAAGH!" Tianne stopped in her tracks, barely catching the baby as it ejected from its tight confines. She caught the baby before it could hit the rocks, but as she did another head pressed through her wide open cervix.

"N-noooouggghhh– why? Gods why?" As she cried out another surge of magic flowed through her and a quake went through her feet. The rocky cavern shifted just as roughly as the baby in her hands and the one driving down her canal.

Tianne tried to take more steps forward, but the endlesss contraction locked her spine and flared her hips wide. Bursts of fluids shot out of her with each wide, awkward step. She threw her head back in a shriek as the ground rumbled and piles of stone crumbled the entrance behind her.

Her body roughly shot the second babe into her hand.

Tianne held two, writhing, magically glowing babies against her shaking body. Her old life was beyond over. She just needed to hope she could find a way to start anew all while keeping these two...safe.

#fpreg #mpreg #difficult birth #magical pregnancy #rapid pregnancy #twin pregnancy #rapid birth #orgasmic labor #orgasmic birth #clothing birth #18+ content #nsfw

exponenshul

Idk why the idea of giving birth while gaming is so hot to me. I don’t have any bathroom related kinks at all but to me I imagine it’s like when you really need to pee but are locked in on your game. Just holding it and holding it, saying just a couple more rounds, getting more and more uncomfortable.

But in this case it’s contractions getting closer, baby’s head moving down more and more, about the crown into your shorts, the weight sitting sooo low. And the game is definitely NOT that serious but you’re prioritizing it anyway for some reason, desperately pressing the buttons while you shift and squirm

…does anyone get me

#birth kink #labor kink #preg kink #birth denial #now adding to the ever growing list of things i want to write about

toomuchbirth

Real into the idea of breaking up with/leaving your shitty boyfriend/husband, only to find out, just as you're starting to feel happy with your new life, that his little burden is the reason you keep gaining weight, that one of the last things he did was permanently combine the two of your genetics in a child you have to grow and birth for him...

birthedstars

It wasn't fair. The veins in your neck bulge as you scream into a handcloth, fingers clawing into the tarp that covers your cars back seat. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Your belly, an infuriating, gentle swell marked with the imprint of a stomach binder and red with the stress of contractions.

You escaped him. You graduated. You got the dream job. You moved so many states away that not even the weather could know you. You'd done everything but take your nausea seriously or consider your weight gain more than just stress.

He left a final bruise that wouldn't a fade. A scar that would never be less jagged and ugly to look at.

There was no one to call; you wanted no one to know about this from the moment you took a test. There were no doctors visits, no grand celebrations– just you and a search engine to keep yourself alive. After days of struggling through your office job in constant pain, you finally felt that it was time. You slid your car into a secluded, empty lot a short walk away from a fire station three hours ago. Not for a moment considering the insanity of doing this isolated.

What he left burrows through you. Your voice screams into the rag as your lower body works to open wide and you feel your canal strain against the mass your body has nurtured for months. You bear down desperately – even harder when the burning bursts around the spreading flesh of your labia. Your back arches up ward, fluid spurts onto the tarp. You keep your eyes trained on the roof of your car just because you don't want see how grossly stretched your body was in this moment.

The pressure grows, your lips let go of the hardened sphere and your body forces the rest to stretch you even wider around the rest of it. Tears well in your eyes as you can feel your body nearly shatter itself in its effort. The contraction begins to end and you refuse to have this thing in you any longer. Your throat ravages itself in the moment you push with the waning contraction, nails dig through tarp and into your palms, your stomach flexes inward.

Then you feel release. A pool of fluid spreads beneath you and a soft squelch hits the tarp. You finally shift your eyes to the bloody display that was your lower half.

You gaze distantly at what he left inside you. A primal instinct moves you to pick it up in your hands and make certain it breaths. It doesn't take for your warmth to stir it to screaming.

Tomorrow you'll go into work, explain away the wincing and pained stride with a practiced smile and a comment about working out for the first time in years. Your chest will ache with pressure– the primal recess of your mind and body will remind you, demand that you make sure the scar he left you is cared for.

But for now its just you in the back of your car, holding the warm, squirming flesh of something the looks unmistakably his...and yours.

#birth kink #labor kink #maiesiophilia #preg kink

constantnbpreg

oh no, thinking about being a pregnant librarian now. imagine how hard it would be to stand at the counter, how hard it would be to navigate through shelves, to put books away all while your middle grows and grows with life…. oh no

shhhsecretsideblog

Inevitably you go into labour at work. Those cramps you’d been experiencing for weeks deciding today to come with some regularity. But it was fine - right? You were told Braxton Hicks got more frequent the closer to 40 weeks you got. That’s all this was.

Plus there wasn’t much you could do about it. The library was in a small town, hardly any staff. You might be the only person in this little town that really cared about literature. So there was no one to cover for you, no one to keep the doors open for the students or housewives that often frequented the place.

Just a few more hours you told yourself as you waddled down a row of books with one hand on your aching back while the other ran along the bookshelves beside you, keeping you steady and grounded through the gradually increasing pressure in your pelvis. The damn woman at the counter was back for the third day in a row with another obscure book request. The computer system said you had it in stock but damn it, you just couldn’t find it.

Your womb spasmed again, forcing you to grip the bookshelf with both hands as you panted through the pressure. Your eyes watering and scrunching with the effort of staying quiet. A low grunt slipped out followed immediately by a release of pressure and the quiet dripping of your waters running down the inside of your thigh. Fuck.

birthedstars

I make a vain attempt to keep my breathing steady and in control like I'm somehow prepared. I'm supposed to be home in my state, not watching my waters drain down the thigh of maternity panties and my thighs in the middle of the non-fiction section. God, the pressure is so much worse even without a contraction. Baby is so low it feel like it could drop any moment.

"Just find the fucking book, get her on her way, close the library, get home," I mutter to myself, right my posture, and quietly add, "Make a note to janitorial about the mess."

I repeat the words until its white noise in my head and im well enough distracted. The book she wants– a damn encyclopedia of ancient european snacks– is about as old as this tiny town. I checked the shelves about as thoroughly as someone moments away from having a baby drop out of them.

The only place it could be was lodged somewhere in the book repair room. I hastily waddle to the room that was–unfortunately for me–on the farthest side of the building.

Each hurried step I take makes the pressure all the worse. I hold the underside of my bump up, thinking it would ease my struggle but its futile. The head defiantly drove lower into the cradle of my pelvis and its taking everything within me not to just cry out at the slow burn encompassing my cervix. It's all happening too fast.

The muscles in my abdomen begin to tense. I'm not timing my contractions but I wish I was. Too many things were swimming around in my head to focus on a count or to remember to check my watch. I get to the repair room, unlock it and instantly find my mark piled up with several damaged loans sporting an unfortunate split on its spine. It'll have to do. I snatch it and hustle out the room.

My stomach tightens around my womb not a moment later. My breath hitches in my throat as I strain to contain a scream. Without second thought to holding anything im carrying my hands shoot to the door frame to keep myself standing. The burn within, the insurmountable pressure, the groan of my hips as they open for my massive baby. Tears well in my eyes– why did baby choose now?!

I stand there shaking, wishing desperately for the contraction to end. And it does...just as it makes sure my cervix is spreading as wide as it could around the head.

I try to regain composure. First wiping the sweat from my brow and then righting my posture. I bend over, half dazed, to pick up the book and –much slower now–I waddle to the front desk.

The woman was there with a slew of magazines pulled off the front rack. She turns to look at me and her eyes brightened – either i don't look like im about pop right infront of her or shes more concerned about her book. Likely the latter. My long skirt hides the state of my gait well enough I suppose.

"Found...it," I huff, sitting behind the desk and start checking out the book. I supress a flinch and a moan– God it's feels like im sitting a bowling ball.

"Thank you for finding it!" The woman does an enthusiastic little hop of joy with the encyclopedia in her hands. "I was so sure this place wouldn't have it!"

"It's been here for some time, people seldomly check it out though," I strain to curl my lips into a smile, my bump was starting to stiffen again.

She starts rambling again. "I was thinking of trying to replicate some of the foods in described–"

"N-now, I have some important archiving to do, So if there's nothing else," I pointedly look at my watch.

"Oh, yes! Of course! Thank you, I'll be sure to share what I make with you," The woman took hurried steps out of the library.

When im sure she's gone I drop the facade. Another contraction rears it's head. I squeeze my legs together; my last "plan" to keep this baby from dropping any lower. I lean back in the chair, hands latched to its base, bearing through the contraction. Cheeks puffed, face hot with effort, a low primal groan vibrating in my throat. I just need to hold on a little longer. When it eases, I don't feel progress, thankfully, but I can't sit here forever.

On unsteady legs, I force myself up and begin my end of day work. Archiving, logging returned books. The focus on such tasks doesn't even last two minutes.

If I were timing them I would have noticed the decrease in the break between each. A contraction far worse than the others takes my body. I double over, one hand grasping my massive swell as the contraction forces my baby through me. I try to close my legs tight again but its too late; the boulder of a head is filling my canal and jamming my hips open into a permanently wide gait.

I can't do this anymore. I need to close up early, need to get out of these clothes, I need to push. The contraction ends, satisfied with getting the baby to rest right against its throbbing, swollen exit. I grab my things and shut off the lights as quickly as I can and make for the exit. My hand shoots to my pocket in search for the building keys.

Nothing. I search my other one— empty. My belly begins to tremble and the downward pressure intensifies.

I switch the lights back on expecting them to magically appear on the floor before me but of course not. My breathing becomes a panicked heave every passing moment I don't see them on the desk or feel them in my pocket. The contraction is getting worse, the burning is getting worse.

"No, no, no, where the fuck did I put them– ah haaaah haah," the realization hits me with the peak of the pain. I fucking dropped them in the repair room. My hand grips the counter until my fingers pale. My legs trembling in a futile act to keep me from squatting. The head lowers and lowers until i feel it pushing the flesh of my crotch against my maternity underwear. I want to push, I need to push. But not here, not now, I can withstand it for a moment.

"If I don't push, it won't crown. If I don't push, it won't crown." Is the new delusional chant echoing in my head. I push myself away from counter and stumble in a wide stance back to the repair room.

My belly hung so much lower that I need both hands to lift it even a little and it barely helped with the pressure or burning.

The gentle shine of metal hits my eyes. There the keys were, sitting next to a trail of my fluids. Just need to get them and get out.

I bend to pick up the keys.

Beneath my sweater, my reddened stomach seizes against my body, turning into a rock like sphere. My eyes bulge out of their sockets, my voice becomes the loudest sound the walls of the library have heard in a decade. I try to lift myself out of the squat but its too late, the head is pushing my swollen skin into a taut ring. Once again my hands find the door frame. Still, I try not to push, still I try to move a foot forward to get out of the library.

"FUCK,NO, NO– HAAAAAGH AGGGHHHH!" My body gives into the pressure, the pain, every sensation that's tortured it. My legs shake as the head bowls out the my stretch underwear and makes room for itself. Back arching, head thrown back into a scream, my baby slides forcefully into the crotch of my panties with a flood of fluid piercing the fabric and hitting the floor.

Tiredly, damn near in shock, still trembling, I look down at my deflated belly and reach a hand to the child beneath my dress. How the hell am I gonna explain this...

The ring of the door bell signaled that someone just came in the building. I don't wonder long about who could be coming in so late.

"Helloooooo! Are you still here?" The overly energetic voice of the woman from earlier hit my ears.

This time she's going to have to wait a day or two for another damn book.

#birth kink #labor kink #maiesiophilia #birth denial #clothing birth #18 + content #nsfw

🤰❔️3️⃣🏠💬🦵⌛️💦

For the question mark, maybe some kind of demon situation?

(Love your work, by the way. 🙏)

Grandma's House

CW: Dubcon, Mental Incapacitation

On a path forgotten, deeply wedged between trees, was a house. A house made of aged wood from an era beyond scribed history and looked as if it had housed nothing but the ghosts of ghosts.

Kira, stood gripping a distended belly that looked beyond overdue. Veins and stretchmarks were as distinct as a freshly colored tattoo on her skin. The massive weight within made her stomach hang low to her upper thighs. A slow stream of fluid dripped beneath her as the immense pressure grew too much for her body to contain.

This house was her troubled grandmother's, now left to Kira specifically after her death. She told far too many stories about devils and demons for anyone in the family to take her seriously or to bother caring for in her old age. There were no instructions, no expectations for care, not even an estimate for how much it could be sold for. All she knew then was that it was hers. And now she couldn’t leave.

The house was old, but homely. Well enough to sleep in for a night or two as she decided what to do with it. Nothing strange to speak of. There were some strange, devilish, woodcarved statues that lined the walls of her grandmother's room, but she was known for her whittling. There was a door to the basement that must have been older than the house itself with how deeply discolored it was. None of the keys to the home worked for it and she wasn't exactly strong enough to force it off its hinges.

It could be dealt with later.

And then there was a dream.

When Kira slept in the room, a loves warmth enveloped her. It lit her body a flame like a match would a hearth. A man formed of every fantasy and idle crush she held in her head loomed over her and the ethereal silks that now made her bed.

"How well would you like to feel, my love? Do you want to feel pleasure unimaginable?" The man's voice was like the tasting over-sweet honey.

"Y-yes, make me feel good," she murmured, enraptured by the dream.

The man smiled and begun working. He lapped his tongue across her thighs, her hardening nipples, and her throbbing clit. Her body writhed against his gentle touch as though her whole being was an extension of her most sensitive spots.

A drawl moan parted her lips when she felt the pressure of his cock enter her. It was a slow rhythm that rapidly built to quickened repeated thrusts. Until the two, in a harmony of their moans, came with eachothers pulses and made the illusion of her sleeping mind fade.

Kira has been trapped in the home ever since that dream.

When she entered her car to leave she woke up in her grandmothers bed. When she tried to call her friends or family she fell asleep as soon as she hit the last digit. A stride to close to well trekked trails and she found herself in the living room with a hand on her stomach.

Then the symptoms began.

#birth kink #labor kink #preg kink #maiesiophilia #fpreg #birth denial #difficult birth #demonic pregnancy #horror #dubcon #incubus #erotic birth #orgasmic birth #orgasmic labor

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