Thinking about holding you tightly in my arms as I fuck into your womb, gently shushing you, kissing you softly as you collapse weakly into my arms begging me not to impregnate you.
But you’re such a weak useless slut you can only lay there as I forcefully impregnate you.
To anyone else it would look like you were sobbing in pleasure as I make gentle love to you. But in reality I’m restraining you in my arms as I rape your little hole pounding it until you’re full of my seed so I can spread your legs open in 9 months and make you push…
Imagine you are being wheeled down a long corridor towards the delivery room, hearing the sounds of pushing from different rooms in the unit. You are being told that your baby is massive and soon you will be pushing just as hard and as loud as all the other patients in the birthing suites. When you arrive, there is a group of eager doctors ready to watch you endure a long and painful birthing stage, instruments on trays and large lamps shining brightly between your spread legs on the birthing table.
This is SOO good. I loove the idea of being in labor and hearing others giving birth through thin walls. Couldn't help but write this:
As soon as I waddled into the hospital maternity ward, a nurse rushed to me with a wheelchair. I was beyond grateful, my massive belly was so heavy I had to walk with one hand underneath it for support. As I sat in the wheelchair I felt another contraction start. I spread my legs as wide as the wheelchair would allow, and puffed out my cheeks to take huge breaths.
The nurse wheeled me to the front desk while I continued to breathe through the contraction. I could tell the nurse was speaking words of encouragement to me, but I couldn't concentrate on anything besides the pain.
When the contraction began to fade, the front desk attendant finally addressed me, "so, I assmue you're here to birth to your triplets?"
"No..." I gasped for air, "it's just one."
At one point I also assumed I was carrying multiples, but many scans and tests confirmed it was one massive baby.
"Oh, yes," the front desk attendant quickly typed something in the computer, "we've been expecting you for a while now. You've gone quite overdue haven't you? Well, I'll let the team know you're finally here ready to pop, and they'll prep the theater for you."
With that, the nurse began pushing the wheelchair towards labor and delivery. I rubbed my huge gut nervously. This was my first birth, and the contractions were already so painful. I silently cursed that 6'7 jackass who knocked me up during a one night stand.
The nurse quickly turned a corner and walked through a large set of double doors which opened up to an extremely long hallway.
The first thing I heard was the shrieking. Shrill screaming from somewhere down the hallway that sounded like someone was being ripped apart.
I turned pale at the sound. Oh god, that's going to be me soon.
As we continued on, I heard deep grunts. Rumbles that started deep in the chest and escaped through the mouth to signal a baby starting to crown.
I rubbed my belly harder. It was a small comfort while I listened to these live birthing noises.
I heard moans and loud swearing as mothers worked to move their babies down. Gasps and groans that probably sounded similar to the night the baby was conceived. I heard begging and pleading for anything to ease the pain.
The nurse must've noticed me listening to the orchestra of endless suffering that surrounded us, because they leaned down to me and said, "don't worry, soon enough you'll be pushing as loud and hard as all these patients. I heard you have a massive kiddo too, all the staff here are so excited for you to birth this Goliath naturally!"
The nurse cheerfully patted my enormous stomach before entering the large set of double doors at the end of the hallway.
Inside was a full theater birthing room, complete with rows of seats filled with excited medical students. Bright lights around the room were all pointed at a hospital bed with stirrups, which was surrounded by instruments on tables. A lineup of doctors eagerly watched my every move.
The nurse helped me awkwardly move from wheelchair to hospital bed, and put my legs in the wide stirrups. I took a deep breath. It was time.
~~~ 16 hours later ~~~
A nurse pushes a heavily pregnant lady in a wheelchair. As they're going down the labor and delivery hallway, the nervous mother to be hears shrill inhumane shrieking coming from the large set of double doors at the end of the hall.
She turned pale at the sound. She couldn't help but think: Oh god, that's going to be me soon.
Ladies, you deserve to know the truth. When we say you look cute, this is what we actually mean.
We’re fantasizing about how good it’d feel finishing deep inside you, knowing that your belly will soon begin to swell. We’re picturing how low, heavy, and round your tummy will become, how your belly button will pop out from all of the pressure within. We’re imagining ourselves worshipping your belly, feeling its immense weight in our hands as they glide over your soft skin and across your intoxicating curves.
We’re envisioning you on your back, your legs spread wide, your huge overdue belly framed between your trembling thighs, your face sweaty and red from your labors. We’re hearing you begging for help, moaning, and screaming as you struggle through painful contractions, desperately trying to force an impossibly large object through an impossibly tight space. We’re picturing the midwife’s cruel fingers inside you swinging side to side: forcefully, mercilessly, and incessantly teasing your most sensitive spot open as you bear down. We’re imagining just hot and tight your contracting belly would feel to the hand, and how your legs would shake and tremble in agony as you experience the ring of fire. We’re thinking about what a good girl you’d be for pushing as hard as you can, no matter how bad it hurts; about how beautiful your face would look as you bear down in pain. We’re hearing you shriek as you finally push the head out, fantasizing about your hips bucking and fluid gushing out as you cry out. We’re dreaming about you heavily pregnant again, about you back in the delivery room, even as you loudly protest having those wide shoulders pulled out past your sore lips. We’re hoping you’ll be our breeding plaything forever.
But, that’s too much to say. So, we’ll just call you cute.
Now you can, I've made a playlist of my current favorites, it is always changing and I'm always looking to add more videos. I'll leave the link below if you want to check it out!
Part of the Long Term Care Series, a Medical Fetish Fantasy
Click Here to go to the Series Hub [COMING SOON]
Click Here to see extra renders and image variants on DeviantArt
Emma had been feeling the weight of her mundane life crush down on her. Her job at the local accounting firm was draining, and her home life offered little respite. She was on the verge of burnout, and it showed in her tired eyes, slumped posture, and everything she did. Life had turned into one big “blah” and Emma went back and forth between stress and depression. One afternoon, as she sat at her desk, her coworker, Alex, approached her with a glimmer of hope.
“Hey Emma, you alright? You’ve been looking a little rough,” Alex said, her voice soft with concern. Emma shrugged her off and said “Yeah, I suppose. I’m just desperate to get out of here, you know?” Emma slumped back down looking longingly out the window.
Alex put a hand on her shoulder “I might know something that could help. There’s a new program at a local clinic that offers some amazing treatments. It’s supposed to be really effective for stress and depression. You remember Sam from a few months back? She was telling me all about it.”
Emma looked up, a spark of interest in her eyes. “Really? What kind of treatments?”
Alex leaned in closer, her voice low. “They offer a range of services, including some experimental meds that can really turn things around. And the doctor there, Dr. Victoria, is supposed to be the best. She can provide you with the paperwork to take some time off work too and maybe get you started on a treatment plan.”
Emma took down the information, her heart racing with a mix of hope and anxiety. Getting off work for a while would be great. She thought about all the rest she could get. But then, she sighed and looked back at Alex.
“I don’t know, if it costs money, I may not be able to afford anything like that right now…” Emma looked on with doubt. Alex perked up; “Really, I heard it doesn’t cost anything at all if you are really struggling!” Alex seemed enthusiastic.
Emma weighed her options and asked Alex how to get more info. “Just head over to the clinic on 7th street and ask for Dr. Victoria, I suppose. That’s all I know.” She thanked Alex for putting her on, and decided to take a chance and headed to the clinic after work.
The clinic was an imposing building, its sterile white walls and cold fluorescent lighting doing little to ease Emma’s nerves. She walked in through the automatic doors and felt the slightest bit of anxiety. “It’s just a quick appointment, in and out” Emma thought to herself. She signed in and was led to a waiting room.
“Hi, I’m looking for Doctor Victoria?” Emma asked the stale looking receptionist, who seemed disinterested but gave an answer.
“She’s in today. Have a seat over there, we will grab you when she’s got a moment.” the receptionist let out with a hiss. “Fill these out” she dumped a clipboard of papers into Emma hands.
Emma sat in the cold dingy waiting room that was completely empty-except for her. She didn’t make not of how strange it was that she was the only one there. The form didn’t ask for much at all- just her name and a space to write down how she feels. A little medical history. Nothing about insurance or payment, which is all Emma was worried about at that point.
After what felt like an eternity, a nurse called her name and led her to an office just around the corner.
Dr. Victoria entered the room, her presence immediately commanding and reassuring. She was tall, with raven-black hair, and her eyes sparkled with an intensity that made Emma’s heart race. “Emma, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Victoria said, her voice smooth and soothing. “I’ve reviewed your files, and I think I can help you with what you’re going through.”
Emma found herself pouring out her troubles, her voice trembling as she spoke of her job, her loneliness, and her growing sense of despair. Dr. Victoria listened intently, her eyes never leaving Emma’s face. When Emma finished, the doctor leaned in, her voice low and seductive. “Emma, you’re suffering from a very treatable condition. You are a truly remarkable woman, too. I can offer you a range of services and medications that will make you feel better than you ever have before.”
Emma felt a flush of desire mix with her anxiety. “That sounds… tempting,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t have time for anything too complicated. I just need something to get me out of work and make me feel better.”
Dr. Victoria smiled, her eyes glinting with a promise of pleasure. “Don’t worry, Emma. This won’t take long at all. But first, we need to do a quick preliminary exam. Just like a checkup. It’s standard procedure, and my nurses are very skilled.”
Emma hesitated, but the doctor’s reassuring presence put her at ease. “Alright, let’s do this,” she said, trying to hide her nervousness.
Dr. Hart called in a nurse, who led Emma out of the office and down a long, sterile hallway. Emma thought she heard a distant scream, but the nurse brushed it off as normal hospital noise. They stopped at a counter, and the nurse had Emma place her hand on a scanner for patient identification. The nurses gloved hand grabbed Emma by the wrist and forcefully pressed her hand against the cold scanner. A plastic wristband was printed with a “zip” and the nurse quickly went to place it on Emma’s wrist.
“I’m just here for a checkup, right? This seems a bit much do I need a bracelet? Haha” Emma tried to laugh off how nervous she was but was quickly shut down. “Standard procedure for all patients” the nurse snapped back, as she securely attached the patient wristband to Emma. It had her name and a number on it. 1542.
They continued down the hallway toward another room.
The exam room was small and clinical, with an exam table in the center and cabinets lining the walls. The nurse handed Emma a folded hospital gown and instructed her to change. Emma protested, but the nurse was firm, pushing the gown into her chest. “Change into this, please. I’ll be back shortly.”
Left alone, Emma’s nerves got the better of her. She looked around the room, her eyes landing on various instruments and covered objects. She heard strange sounds from beyond the walls, and a sense of unease washed over her. She put the gown to the side in deference. It’s just a prescription. This experience has been enough, “I just have to get what I need and leave” she thought.
There was a knock at the door, and the nurse cracked it open. “What did I tell you? You need to strip,” she said, her voice sharp with annoyance. Before Emma could protest, the nurse whistled, and two more nurses entered the room. They snapped on latex gloves and approached Emma, their movements efficient and impersonal.
Emma struggled as they forcibly removed her clothes, her protests falling on deaf ears. As she stood naked, the nurses forcing the gown onto her body, the lovely Dr. Victoria reentered the room. “Well, hello there,” she purred, her eyes roaming over Emma’s half covered half naked body. “What seems to be the problem?”
Emma’s resistance melted away under the doctor’s hypnotic gaze. She stood there, mesmerized, as Dr. Victoria approached snapped on some gloves and began her examination. The doctor’s hands were warm and gentle, even through the tight black latex gloves as they explored Emma’s body, her touch both professional and intimate. “Breathe for me, Emma,” Dr. Victoria whispered, her breath hot against Emma’s ear.
Emma obeyed, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the doctor’s hands moved over her breasts and down her stomach.
With one gloved hand examining her breasts another made its way down into her crotch. Emma was stricken still. Paralyzed as the gorgeous doctor examined her exposed private areas.
“Cough for me sweetheart,” Dr. Victoria agin whispered low into Emma’s ears. cough She barely noticed the nurse inserting a needle into her arm until Dr. Victoria spoke again. “Shhh, it’s okay. Just a little blood prick for your vitals.”
As the nurses finished taking her blood and recording her vitals, Dr. Hart grabbed Emma by the hand led her across the room to a scale. Emma stepped onto it, her body feeling light and disoriented. A sudden dizziness overcame her as she crossed the room. As Dr. Victoria was running her gloved hands across Emma’s neck and minding the scale, A nurse placed a clipboard with forms in front of a very distracted Emma.
“All standard patient releases, Emma. Nothing to worry about.” The doctor reassured gently. Without hesitation, Emma signed on the line.
“You’re doing great, Emma,” Dr. Victoria said, her voice filled with pride. “We’re almost done. Just need to get you your first dose of medication, and then you can rest.”
“Oh there’s no prescription?” Emma nervous again quipped, “You can send it to my local pharmacy I have no problem grabbing it on my way home…” Her voice trailed off.
“Oh, no silly!” Dr. Victoria giggled a bit, “We want to give you the first dose here and keep a super quick eye on you just in case of any side effects or reactions. All super normal, should only be a few minutes wait.”
A nurse handed Emma a cup with two pills and a glass of water. She swallowed them without hesitation, her trust in Dr. Victoria absolute. As the medication began to take effect, Emma felt a strange warmth spread through her body.
Dr. Victoria smiled, her eyes filled with a mix of professional concern and something more. “Once that’s in your system, you should be good to go. Just need you back for a few checkups now and then…” Dr. Victoria grabbed Emma's arm with her strong gloved hands and began removing her from the room.
Emma started to ask about the medication, but her words slurred as dizziness overtook her. Dr. Victoria offered told her they were going on a tour of the facility. “We can loop right back around to check in, and then you can be on your way! There are just a few things I would really like to show you while we are here.” the doctor said cheerfully looking at Emma with excitement and wonder. Emma agreed, her mind foggy and compliant.
As they walked down the hallway, Emma’s steps became unsteady. She leaned on Dr. Victoria for support, her body pressing against the doctor’s firm frame. Suddenly, Emma collapses, falling against the wall as her vision starts to black.
Dr. Victoria summons a nurse to grab a wheelchair, and kneels down next to Emma. "Looks like some small side effects from the medication, you'll be ok in a few minutes let's just get you into this wheelchair. You need some rest, sweetheart."
Emma slumped unto the wheelchair and looked up at the ceiling. What was going on?
The nurses wheeled her deeper into the facility, and Emma’s confusion grew. Why were they going so far from the exit? Where were her clothes? She vaguely remembered one of the nurses placing them in a plastic bag before they left the exam room, but that didn’t make sense. Why would they take her clothes?
As they moved down the hallway, they pass by a window into a section of clinic rooms. Emma tries to gaze through the glass and makes out what looks like other patients… She squints to try and make out what looks like several other women all in big hospital beds all fast asleep being tended to by nurses… just like her.
Suddenly, Emma tried to sit up, her vision blurring. “I… I don’t feel so good,” she slurred before collapsing out of the wheelchair and onto the cold floor.
Dr. Victoria crouched beside her, her voice soothing and reassuring. “Everything is going to be okay, Emma. We’ve got you. It’s just a small reaction to the meds. We are going to take very, very good care of you.” She removes Emma's gown to check for injuries, running her gloved hands across Emma's soft skin as she mumbles and fades in and out.
Two nurses arrived with a gurney, and they lifted Emma’s limp body onto it. Her hospital gown slid off, exposing her naked form to the hospital workers. A nurse placed an oxygen mask over her face, and Emma took shallow breaths, her mind drifting in and out of consciousness. “Just breathe for us Emma, breathe”.
They rolled her into a special room, where a large ICU bed awaited. It was equipped with restraints and surrounded by machines and monitors. They transferred Emma from the gurney to the bed.
“Shh, it’s alright, this is for your own good. We’re gonna get you through this” Emma listened to the doctor’s soft words as she felt gloved hands fix the soft restraints to her wrists. Where was she? Was she dying? What was happening?
As the lights began to fade down, Emma felt Dr. Victoria’s hands on her face, gentle and comforting. “You are mine now, Emma,” the doctor whispered, her voice filled with possession and promise. “And I am going to take the best care of you. You will feel so so good.”
With those words, Emma drifted into a deep, drugged sleep, her body and mind surrendering to Dr. Victoria’s control.
what would you say to me if i was in the delivery room, legs spread, shaking, knees pulled back to my chest? we’ve just been informed that the baby lowering into my vagina is at least 20 pounds, but you insist on a vaginal delivery… would you softly encourage me to breathe through the pain? or would you take charge, forcing my legs to stay as open as possible as you command me to push? what about when the enormous thing gets stuck, and the doctor prepares to insert forceps as a last resort? please, comfort me as he pulls the giant head out of my pussy.
I watch you gasp for air as the contraction finally fades. Your eyes wide and terrified of the pain yet to come, but you have no idea how bad it's about to get.
"A word, sir," your doctor gestured to me, "are you aware this baby is over 20lbs? We'll prep the theater for C-section immediately-"
"No." I cut the doctor off coldly.
"But-"
"This baby WILL be born naturally." I demand. You let out a shrill scream as a new contraction started, and that was enough to end the conversation.
I rush to your side and push your sweaty hair out of your face, "please baby, breathe through the pain. I know you can do this." I lean in and whisper sweetly as you pull back your knees and continue to grunt and scream through labor.
----------
"Push baby, PUSH!"
"RRREEEAAAAAAARRRGGHHH!!"
I'm standing at the foot of the bed holding both your legs as far apart as they'll go. It's been a few contractions since I last saw the doctor, so I took over in the meantime.
You gasp for air, and I shout at you, "PUSH NOW!" I don't remember telling you to take a breath? How dare you disobey me. I push your legs further back as punishment, and you howl in pain.
"MMPHAAAAAAHHHHFFGGGG! PLEEAAASE, MAKE IT STOOOPP!!
"I can't even see the head yet, baby. This is no time to take a break. You have to keep pushing." I command.
Suddenly, the doctor is next to me...holding forceps.
"That's it, keep the legs nice and open, and I'll use these to get that stubborn baby out!" The doctor pushed the large set of forceps into your tight hole.
"NOONOONNONOOOOOOAAAHHHHHKK!"
You thrash and scream in protest, but there's no option left. In a few short moments, this baby is going to get yanked out of your tender hole whether you want it to or not.
The doctor takes a moment to lock the forceps in place around the 20+lbs baby's head, and I take the opportunity to get your attention, "shhhsshhhshh baby, it's alright. Look at me."
Your eyes lazily roll around the room until they find mine, "please," you moan, "comfort me...?"
How could I ignore such a request? I move around the bed until I'm beside your head, and I wrap my strong arms around you, "I've got you now baby. You can do this! Feel another contraction coming? Okay deeep breath for me...aaaand....PUSH!"
The doctor yanked on the forceps, and you let out a shrill scream. Several nurses rushed in to help the doctor pull as you pushed. I let go of your shaking body only for a moment to catch a glimpse of the massive head. I watched your hole tear open as the largest part of the head ripped through you.
You screamed bloody murder as the doctor and three nurses yanked out the shoulders, and the rest of the goliath baby fell out of you. A perfectly natural birth of a 22.5lbs baby.
Making you watch graphic birth videos whilst I pound into your cunt.
You see the woman in the video, spread open and screaming in the hospital bed as her cunt bulges wide, you feel my cock pummel you womb and you sob knowing that will be you in 9 months.
For the next few hours the sounds from the room is the slap of skin as I fuck you silly, breathless moans and groans as I impregnate you and the desperate screams of the birthing woman and the firm commands of the doctor from the TV.
hold me hostage and show me birth videos, telling me thats going to be me in 10 months
“Okay sweetheart deep breaths for me okay?” I say as I sit between you legs, snapping on my latex gloves as I adjust the surgical mask on my face.
“Nurse, please increase the oxygen, patient’s O2 is plummeting.” I watch as you pant weakly on the bed, frightened and nervous as you groan weakly through a contraction. The nurse nods and gently pins your head to the bed, fitting an oxygen mask on your face as you’re gently shushed.
Once satisfied I proceed, gesturing for 2 observing medical students in the room to gently hold your thighs open. I then turn to address you.
“Okay I need you to push nice and hard, let your womb open up for me okay…and push!”
You obey as you let out a low groan to push hard. I could hear the door open, no doubt more medical personnel to assist when the baby arrives. But for now all eyes were on you as you pushed at my command.
“Okay and stop.” I watch amused as you collapse back on the bed, panting and whimpering, my gloved hand gently cupping your swollen canal.
“Birth’s progressing slowly so I think we have ample time to pump.” I address the nurse who nods, placing 2 pumps over you breasts, I watch you shudder as your pert nipples are pulled and played with by the machine, taking out your milk.
You almost look like a breeding cow, naked, swollen and spread wide.
“Okay another contraction is coming sweetheart so push hard, we need to get the head out.”
You let out a long primal groan as you push, little rivets of fluid run down your thighs as you begin to crown, your pussy bulging.
“Fuck I can’t!” You scream. I ignore you as I order you to push again.
“Stop talking and push.” I mutter, my hand pressed against your perineum as I watch your hole stretch obscenely to accommodate the baby’s head,
You scream again, pained and anguished as the head fully emerges, experiencing the ring of fire in full force.
ANON THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I WANT TO HAPPEN TO MEEE
How would you prefer a doctor to act when your crowning.
Do you prefer them being stern and no-nonsense, coldly demanding you to push as you scream as your cunt stretches.
Or do you prefer a doctor who appears gentle, his voice soft and calm even as you scream as you push. But in actuality is extremely sadistic, gently chuckling as you sob with each push. Without you knowing it, cupping your crowning hole to stop you from making progress so he has an excuse to use his fingers to stretch your cunt and give you a nice and deep episiotomy, voice soft as he gently shushes you..
Or do you prefer something different?
id love a gentle but sadistic doctor who assists me in giving birth, gloved hands guiding the head through my hole
The implications that someone is built for the purpose of breeding over and over, their belly swelling back to back. They never stay empty, making babies like it's their job.
And factories are good at building. They're good at carrying that bump around, waddling with those widened hips of theirs. They've got milk coming in gallons for fueling those babies they're crafting in their womb. They can handle the kicks and rolls, Braxton Hicks and cramps, aches and pains. They live for this.
Then the moment comes they spread their legs and show their handiwork, pushing out the labor of their passion. They spent months on this project and they'll deliver. After several pregnancies, babies just come out more easily, efficiently. Like a good baby factory.
The cycle continues. They're in double time with twins next time around. Twice the work and twice the satisfaction.
Being a baby factory is sexy. It's about being proud. It's about being damn good at breeding. Spreading their legs and getting to work.
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