sex haver coming through @blackmesaafterdark-moved - Tumblr Blog

New Blog Header anyways:

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This is my personal sin bin, by following or continuing to view this blog you're consenting to and agreeing that you're 18 or over.

I don't post any not safe for work art in main tags, so this is the warning for you if you came here from reblogs or whatever.

EDIT: if you're an anti-anti, pro-shipper, or otherwise support or ship p*dophilic ships do not interact.

#bmad art #pinned post

I'm now Logging Off of mobile and switching into the new blog........ I will see yall There

#IF ALL GOES WELL #AND IT SHOULD I MADE A WHOLE NEW EMAIL #also anon is on. but if i get any anon hate it gets turned right tf off dont test me

HUNKA HONKA NEW BLOGGERS @blackmesaafterdark

She would like to speak to your manager

#bmad art #benita ..

739337369137371082

#OOOOH THIS #this.. is good

topherchris

Might draw.. a titboob

#that or mating press #hmm desishuns desishuns #but i do need to draw a full body pic of my genderbendrey

zanamaoria

hop

#TITS

Mm kinda wanna join horny discord servers again but hhh

#kinda wanna make my own at the same time

xblue-bloodx

I drew @blackmesaafterdark B/enrey getting railed by a d1ldo machine. Click here to see it.

blackmesaafterdark-moved

oH HELL FUCKING YEAH

#buddy art #THINKING ABOUT HIS HOLE NOW #YA LOVE TO SEE IT

Crude

imagineyourepregnant

Imagine just a small touch gets you pregnant

This is based off the prompt that a casual thing such as a cough could impregnate someone. They are trying to avoid innocuous things that happen every day and are unavoidable.

—-

Imagine one day you wake up and everything is perfectly normal. You get ready and get in your car, go to work, say hello to the receptionist, sit down at your desk, etc. Everything is fine. It’s nearly lunch time, and you’re working on your computer when one of your coworkers steps up behind you. He’s one of your friends at work, but he’s always been a bit too friendly. He likes to put his hand on your shoulder, arm, or even leg when you’re talking, even though he doesn’t technically need to.

True to form, he steps up and places a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, want to go grab some lunch?” he asks.

You’re about to respond yes when you feel a rumbling in your stomach. You feel achy, then almost immediately nauseous. You shoot up without answering him and run to the bathroom, throwing up in the toilet quickly. Figuring you just had something bad to eat for breakfast, you head back to your desk and sit down. Your coworker is gone, but you figure you probably shouldn’t be eating on a queasy stomach anyway.

As you work, you feel your stomach is still uneasy. You glance down after a few minutes to see that it’s pushing out beneath your dress, visibly rounding. You feel it, and even as your fingers run across it you can tell that it’s swelling - slowly but surely. You lean back in your chair, watching as your stomach inflates. As it gets bigger, pressure grows and you have to stifle back a moan as you feel your bellybutton stretch tighter and tighter.

After only 15 minutes you look about 6 months pregnant. You nervously look around, unsure of what’s going on. You think about going to the hospital and stand up to do so. However, right before you make it up to the lobby you bump into your boss. Literally.

“Thank god I ran into you!” he says. “We have some high profile clients coming in last minute. I really need you to come meet with them. Follow me.”

Meanwhile, the pressure in your belly has doubled. You glance down and see that you’re looking nearly nine months pregnant. You notice some people look up and shoot curious glances in your direction. You follow your boss down the hall, hunched over your belly to hide it as much as possible. At your desk, your trench coat is sitting on the back of your chair. You grab it as you pass, putting it on over your dress in an attempt to hide your belly around the bulk.

But your stomach keeps swelling. You feel it growing beneath the coat and then something else - movement? You bite your lip, crossing your arms over the top of your belly.

You go into the conference room with your boss and sit down at the head of the table. Shortly thereafter, three men in suits enter. You stand with your boss and approach them. Your boss reaches out a hand to each man, shaking it quickly and introducing himself. You follow suit, shaking each man’s hand quickly then sitting down.

Suddenly, the pressure in your belly triples. Sweat beads on your forehead and you see the buttons on your trench coat pulling and stretching as your belly continues to grow.

Your boss is droning on but you haven’t contributed at all, watching as your belly swells outward in alarm. It’s going so fast now - triple the speed as it was this morning. The pressure is too much - the buttons fly off your jacket and clatter against the wall, your belly now free to grow with abandon. The three clients and your boss stare at you in amazement.

“Are you feeling okay?” one of them asks. At this point, you’re just trying to hold on, your belly growing in spurts before your eyes and their’s. Your dress is riding up over the expanse of skin. You’re just trying to breathe, all the pressure pushing outward. And the movement. There are kicks and pushes and bumps at all sides, marring your belly as it continues to swell outward.

“Nnngh,” you moan, leaning backward in the chair to give yourself room. “The b-babies, please.” You’re sweating now, your hair sticking to your face and the back of your neck. Your belly has swollen out past your knees and suddenly, you feel a contraction. You throw your head back and cry out. your belly and breasts continue to swell.

You take a deep breath and exhale, clenching your eyes shut then opening them again. You look down at your massive belly, half of it now not even covered by the dress. There are stretch marks, redness, and your belly button wiggles in the distance. You clutch the sides of it, begging the growth to slow down and thankfully, it seems to. The growth slows but you have to be holding 5 babies, full to term. Your breasts too are growing to match, plumping and spilling over the top of your dress.

“Gah,” you cry out, feeling your nipples tense and pulse, begging for release. You see the clients and your boss, unsure of what to do. Your boss takes out his cell phone and calls an ambulance, then steps closer to you. The growth seems to be coming to a stop and your belly trembles angrily. You can see your boss is hard through his pants, and his hand shakes a bit when he moves it to rest against your forearm.

The moment he touches it your the shaking in your belly increases.

“Nnnnngah,” you moan as it swells outward again 1, 2, 3, 4 inches. You’re shaking and exhausted when it begins to slow again, your belly dropping, its underside drooping between your spread legs. Your belly button quivers, so far away you can’t reach it. It presses into the conference table.

“Please… please help me,” you beg. You’re getting too big for the seat now, you’re going to get stuck.

“You need to get out of the chair,” he says.

You try to push yourself out but you’re simply too heavy, you can’t get up. Two clients come around to help. They grab one arm each and yank at the same time. You stumble to your feet but immediately drop under the weight, falling to your knees, perched against your belly.

You open your mouth but are unable to cry out, your dress snapping and falling off as your belly swells out even further, stretch marks blooming across your skin in detail. You feel the pressure everywhere. In your breasts, in the tip of your belly, and now in your pussy where your water just broke.

“There are… too… many,” you struggle to breathe. Your breasts are leaking milk constantly now.

You noticed your clients are horny, they surround you and your massive pulsing mass, intrigued. You see their dicks large inside their pants, and one reaches in to stroke his. You are just a body attached to your mass now, just a baby machine. One of them leans over and strokes your sweaty orb, feeling all the babies moving around beneath the surface.

Immediately you swell in bursts, your eyes clenched shut against the sensation.Your skin is so thin, blood vessels bursting, and every sensation is amplified.

“Pplease…. nnngh… please don’t” you gasp as you feel another client stroke your backside which is also swelling, and another stroke your breasts, kneading the nipple. “Gah,” you cry, “I… my breast… my breasts. my… ahhhh!” they swell outwards in a burst, positively laden with milk as your belly swells to match. They grow so large that they press up against your chin and mouth, your moans now muffled beneath the skin. One of them rolls you over on top of your belly, your limbs draped over the massive, rumbling, tight, swelling orb.

Every stroke of their fingers causes you to moan and cry, and you notice you’re gathering a crowd. Your belly is getting so massive that you’re rising above chest height, even head height. Your boobs release so much milk that you’re completely drenched in it, sitting in a pool of juice.

You’ve been so involved with the swelling and growth that you’ve barely noticed your contractions, which are now so aggressive that it feels like your womb is breathing. It swells in and out with you on top of it, clenching down.

“Agh!” you cry out as you feel a baby stretch your birth canal. From behind, the clients watch as the head begins to crown. You try to push, grasping onto the skin of your breasts as they burst with milk, but there are so many babies that it’s almost futile. You push again and again and again, but the babies are massive. The shoulders are stuck.

One of the clients comes forward. You think he’s going to help you, you think he’s going to pull the baby out. Instead, he pushes on the head, pushing the baby back in.

This sets off all the other babies in a rage, moving aggressively trying to get out. You cry out in pain, bouncing atop your sack.

“I think we should wait for the paramedics,” he says. You grow bigger and bigger and bigger. You hear an ambulance approach, and you’re completely relieved. Finally. The babies tumble around in your womb, and another one drops down into your birth canal. You feel its massive head spreading you from behind, but your limbs are so useless you can’t get into a better position in which to birth.

The paramedics enter, stunned. There are 3 or 4 of them, carrying a gurney that won’t get you anywhere. They watch as you push the first baby’s head from your pussy, sweaty, crying, moaning, sticky and tight.

They call for backup.

6 paramedics, 3 clients, and your boss approach to lift you. You push the first baby’s shoulders out. Your breasts spurt milk. Your baby’s kick. They all reach out and touch you at once.

——

-TK writing

#i mean of course im into hyper pregnancy #woohoo