Thinking about a king who’s yet to have any heirs begging the gods for fertility. When his queen’s blood continues to come for many months regardless of his pleas, he curses the gods for abandoning him; he has no reason yet to believe that his own growing gut is anything other than winter weight.
When spring comes, people begin to notice the protruding roundness of his belly, his physician recommending him more exercise and his tailor having to let out his royal garb every few weeks.
Still, the king attempts to plant his heir in the queen’s womb every night, though now he must rest his belly on her back to complete their union.
Nine months since he appealed to the gods, murmurs of concern follow the king wherever he goes. His gait has slowed and widened, a ponderous, rocking movement as his great belly hefts side to side. His physician looks more and more disturbed every time he examines the tight ball growing beneath the king’s gently swollen chest, warning him that he must have an imbalance of humors that have led to a massive tumor. The movement the king has felt, and the physician now feels and even sees from outside, must be the cankerous wolf, the physician surmises grimly, a malady that eats the flesh of the afflicted. Most often found in the breasts of women, it could nevertheless affect any part of the body, and the king should be prepared for a painful illness and untimely death.
But something else happens, instead. The king’s cock begins to swell. At first it’s barely enough to notice, but after a few weeks, it’s so thick and bloated that he can barely stand to touch it. He shudders at the slightest brushes against the tender, stretched flesh, and just the most tentative touch of the queen’s lips makes him cry out and dribble seed.
The physician warns him that the wolf might be on the move throughout his body, that this is likely a tumor that could destroy his member, but the king has another thought. He remembers pleading with the gods, and believes that they must have finally answered his prayers, and this large and sensitive cock is a sign of fertility.
The overstimulation is excruciating, but he barely manages to squeeze his massively swollen cock into the queen. She gasps and squirms and trembles, feeling split open by him. Tears cover his face by the time he reaches his climax. Both of them cry out as a sudden torrent of fluid erupts from him, believing this outpouring to be seed given to him by the gods. Once the servants change their linens, they go to sleep convinced that their heir will come soon.
They’re right—it will just be much sooner than they think.
The king wakes in agony at dawn. His belly cramps so tightly that he can do nothing but bend over it and groan. Assuming his illness must be consuming him, he remembers the physician informing him that there is no treatment or cure for the canker, and he resigns himself to his fate. His queen stays by his side as his body is wracked with fits of tension. She finds herself thinking that his agony reminds her of a laboring woman, especially the way the low-hanging bulge of his belly lifts and contracts with each wave of pain, but she fears such an observation would simply upset him, and keeps it to herself.
The king is lying on his side when the change comes. He groans, hair sticking to his sweat-drenched brow as he shakes his head against the soured sheets. He moans for the gods’ mercy, and instinctively lifts one leg, spreading his thighs wide. That’s when the queen sees how the flesh above his member, normally a relatively flat, triangular space, bulges as if around something hard and spherical. She stares as he thrashes and groans, watching as the tendons below his belly tighten and the shape sinks a little lower.
She figures it out, then. She stares at him, her jaw slowly loosening as she realizes what she’s witnessing. The heaving belly, contracting around a babe. And the head… the head descending towards his member.
She tells him she needs to get help, and he begs her to stay, but she leaves anyway. Terrified and in agony, the king feels something shifting deep within him, and is sure he must be dying. When the door bursts open and several people enter, he barely notices, eyes blurry with exhaustion and tears.
The physician and the midwife stare at the laboring man, stunned, but it’s the midwife who leaps into action first. She ducks between the king’s legs and begins to gently palpate around his bulging crotch, holding his thighs open when he screams and tries to close them. He demands to know the meaning of this, and she tells him. He’s giving birth. He tries to laugh at her, but a contraction steals his breath. His hands knot into the sheets and he groans long and low, while the midwife, physician, and queen all watch his crotch grow heavier and heavier with the head, until the base of his flushed cock begins to stretch with it. He hisses in pain, totally unaware of what’s coming.
He screams with the next contraction, eyes flashing wide with shocked terror as the base of his cock stretches a little more, trying to widen enough to accept the head. No, he begs. Not there. Please not there! The queen can do nothing but cradle his head in her lap. The midwife rubs his hip and tells him how well he’s doing. The physician, pale-faced, sits at the king’s desk taking notes and wondering if anyone will believe him.
Oh god, no, the king sobs as he feels another contraction coming. He cries for someone to stop it, but nothing can be done as his body squeezes, and the crown of the head peeks into the base of his cock. The king begins to thrash, and the midwife has to call the physician for help to hold down his legs. It gives both of them a prime view as, over the course of several contractions, the base of the king’s penis slowly wraps around the babe’s skull.
For many hours, he labors. The king screams for help, for mercy, for his mother, for death, as the hint of head inside his cock slowly eases forward. Finally it crowns into him, his base rendered nearly translucent around the widest part of the head, skin stretched pale and veins bulging blue with the tension. His chest rattles with tearful wheezing, his hands cramping from gripping the sheets.
The next milestone comes with a thrash of his whole body and a wail of, simply, Fuck! as the head pops into his shaft. His tip is beginning to stretch, now, an angry, weeping red, slit pulling open. He rests, then, such as a man can with a baby’s head deforming his cock, eyelids fluttering shut and chest heaving as he pants for breath. The queen dabs his forehead with a wet cloth and tells him how brave he is.
The midwife begins to gently stretch his hole, and he whimpers, but lets her, knowing she’s preparing him for—
Oh, nooooo, no, no, it won’t fit, it won’t fit! he sobs, but his cockhead splays all the same, pulled nearly flat as it comes flush to the crown. His crotch bulges again, too, as the shoulders push at it. Make it stop, just cut me open and take it out, I order you! Do it! he screams, but his three helpers exchange looks grimly, knowing that the flesh of his birthing member is much too thin to be cut without hurting the child, nevermind the risk of the king bleeding out. He must endure.
A litany of No, no, no no nonono no nooo noooooo! fills the room as his body pushes the child forward. The slight splay of his slit opens eye-like over slimy hair, his spongy cockhead reduced to something like a heart shape as it hugs the emerging head. His crotch stretches sharply, then the head eases back, his slit closing a little. He whimpers with relief.
But the midwife begins to rub around his base, trying to stretch him. She tells him he needs to push with the next contraction, or the child will never come out. He weeps bitterly.
Yet, he pushes. A high, wobbling agony gargles in his throat as he clenches his teeth and heaves air through the cracks. Veins stand out in his forehead and his shaft. His cockhead flares to the point it had reached before, and then a little further, a little less than a thumb’s length of the baby’s head visible through the slit. The shoulders don’t enter his cock, yet, but the base stays wide, ready to accept them when he does push them through.
He begs the midwife not to touch, sobs that it hurts, but she assures him gently that she’s keeping him from tearing, and keeps running her fingertip around the reddened edges of his birthing slit.
His belly lifts and tenses, and voices encourage him to push from every side. He’s only able to bear down for an instant before he loses the air in his lungs to a shriek as his slit-lips open wider. He whips his head in delirious denial, barely conscious.
This is when the midwife leans forward and pushes on the top of his belly. His eyes snap open and he screams like a dying animal as a shoulder bursts into his cock and the head surges against his tip. The bruise-purple tissue of what used to be his cockhead is indistinguishable as any part of a penis, more like a cunt now, if anything. This new cock-cunt twitches and pulses around the broad teardrop of crown now visible.
With the next contraction, he does his own pushing, fearing the pain in his belly again. He pushes until his face goes red and his whole body trembles, cock lopsided with the single shoulder and cunt lips peeling slowly down the dome of the head, until finally—
“AAAAAAAUUUUUURRRRGHHHHHHHH!!!!!”
The king’s agony echoes off the walls, his back arching and chest heaving as what was once his cock crowns around his child’s head. It holds him perfectly round and open, leaving him wheezing for breath with a high, tortured whimper threaded into his voice. He tries to keep pushing, but the midwife tells him to wait. He screams that he can’t. It’s too big! It’s gonna rip his cock off! But his attempts to push are futile, the head simply bobbing slightly, and he must endure the torment of the crown.
The next contraction should bring relief. But when it comes, his pushes only bring an awful pressure at the base of his cock, the drag of the shoulder inside his shaft, and the stinging tickle of his birthing slit struggling to release the babe’s skull. It’s stuck.
It’s stuck! It’s stuck! he shrieks.
The midwife tells him to keep his head on, and makes him roll from his side to his back and pull his legs up by his knees. He does as he’s told, though his hands tremble so badly that the queen must pull his legs back, leaning over him until his belly juts out between his upturned thighs, and his knees nearly touch his shoulders. His cock sticks up at an angle, though it wilts at the end with the weight of the babe’s head until the midwife supports it.
When pushing in that position does nothing, she continues to support his cock as she forces him to get on his hands and knees. His limbs tremble. He buries his pain-paled face in the queen’s breast and pants while he waits for a contraction. His hot breath and loose saliva seep into her dress as he pushes, but he finds no relief.
The midwife doesn’t warn him before she starts to physically tug his birthing slit down. He screams and tries to kick her, but the physician holds his legs still and the queen wraps her arms around his head to quell him. Her gown muffles his shrieks as the tip of his penis is dragged over the widest part of the skull, and he goes limp and wheezing when the head finally bursts free of his birthing slit. The gaping mouth of his cock crumples loosely around the neck, until the midwife keeps pushing it back to expose the shoulder.
When her fingers worm past the shoulder and dip inside of him, he lurches and gags. His wife is quick enough to let him loose, and he vomits over the side of the bed at the sensation of a foreign hand digging into his cervix. It leaves him tear-streaked and dry heaving, but finally, the midwife frees the second shoulder. He can do nothing but gargle in reaction.
Finally, a contraction comes, and he pushes with all he has left, his whole body trembling and his eyes rolling back. He bleats out a delirious whimper as both shoulders stretch his birthing slit at once, but they linger for only a moment before the midwife pulls the heir to the throne from his quivering body. His former penis falls limp, nothing but a gaping birth canal leaking blood and fluid.
He knows, in that moment, that the gods answered him. The first time he beseeched them, they gave him a womb with a miracle babe within… only for him to curse them, not knowing he already carried their blessing. This was his punishment.
At least it’s over.
Or, that’s what he thinks, until he consults his looking glass a few months later, and finds his sagging belly beginning to swell and harden once again.
ohmygosh that watermelon one made me think of a whole field of boys filled to the brim with watermelons
But still on the vines tho (because obviously they grow bigger and better when incubated inside a fertile boy) and all of them are miserably watching there bellies grow all different shapes and sizes until its time to harvest and birth the melons and watching their bellies tense up and contract around these prize winning fruits that the farmer just absolutely dotes over and they have to push but not push out like a normal birth since theyre still on the vine they have to push away or even up from the vine to make progress and the farmer taking such good care of his crop holds the boy up into a squat like those partners that hold the birther up into those gravity birth positions
Anywho i totally agree that there isnt a lot of watermelon writing or art, so thank you, its very…refreshing 🤣🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉
ohhh I can imagine them bound to those garden arches people use for vines, strung up with their bellies dangling heavily below them...
They could be held up in a net, or if you're not so nice, you tie them up with no support for their massive, swelling tummies, letting them feel the full weight of the giant melon growing inside them. When the melons are ripe and its time to give birth, they have to fight gravity and push the melons upwards to get them out.
Their bodies are positioned in a way where their huge bellies press up towards their chest and the vine connecting them pulls their back end higher, making it near impossible to push out such a heavy object. They thrash and scream for the farmer to cut them down, bellies swaying back and forth as they push uselessly against gravity, but without the farmers help, none of them can make any progress.
They're at the complete mercy of their farmer, waiting for hours as they labor in hopes he will decide their bellies are ripe enough to pick. Eventually each one is harvested, cut from the arch and left on the ground to writhe and scream and push the huge 15 pound fruit out of their straining tummy.
The farmer cut most of them down, but a handful of unlucky boys are left to continue growing, the ones with the largest fruit filled bellies are picked for competitions. They'll beg and cry and scream for the farmer to let them give birth, their bellies are already so overgrown to bursting, but he knows they can get even bigger. They're left to swell for several more weeks until the melons nearly double in size, weighing over 40 pounds and stretching them until their tummies are translucent. Their finally ready to show off at the competition, where they'll still have to give birth to their massive, oversized fruits.
Hucow boy who fights and attempts to escape when the farmer tries to breed him, so the farmer teaches him a lesson by injecting him with bull semen. Within only a few months he’s too heavy with calf to even leave his pen without help, much less run away. But the real reward is watching a once-defiant boy reduced to screaming and begging for forgiveness as his pussy stretches around 80lbs of livestock :)
Submission note: this can be tagged fpreg, nbpreg, and tmpreg! You can credit me.
---
You are special. You are the brilliant, shining star of his class.
Sure, maybe he fucks some of the other students, too. Maybe you’re far from the only person who’s been on your knees and gagging on his cock. Maybe his desk has seen all kinds of young, vigorous minds bent over his desk and reduced to brainless, cock-hungry sluts.
But you’re special. You’re absolutely certain of it. After all, you’re the one carrying his child.
If you weren’t special, then why is no one else pregnant? Why are you the one who gets to call him by his actual name instead of just Professor Hale? Why does he look at you like that during department events and guest lectures? He’s so willing to risk everything for you. After all, when it was first obvious to everyone that you were expecting, he had followed you out of the ballroom, pulled you into a janitor’s closet, and gripped your belly as you rode him. It’s already hot enough to have his baby inside of you; it’s even hotter when his cum is rolling down your leg while you talk with the department head about your upcoming senior thesis.
His child knows him. They roll inside of you when he speaks during lectures. The sensation is alien and yet the pure knowledge that it’s his baby leaves you wet and wanting after each class.
And he knows it. The bigger you get, the more obsessed he becomes. Now, instead of fucking other students when you’re not around, he invites you to watch. His eyes stay on you, locked on the way your hand rubs your bare belly, so round and big because of him, and he fucks the other student until he nearly climaxes. But his cum is for you. He always pulls out and goes to you instead, now forcing the other student to watch as he sucks on your swollen areolas and drives his cock into your oversensitive cervix until you’re screaming and dripping with him.
The school year finishes; summer break begins. When your senior year begins, you’re nearly ready to burst. Everybody’s shocked that you even came back to school, but you insisted. You have to be with him, your favorite professor, the man you’re obsessed with, the father of your child. And he needs to be with you. You’re his, his darling broodmare.
When your labor begins, you’re obligated to notify him. He demands you come to his office later that evening. By that point, you’ve been laboring for hours. Your contractions are quite uncomfortable, but you’re not going to disobey him.
“Ah,” he greets when he opens his door for you. “I have a present for you.”
He leads you inside. There’s another student in his office -- a junior, someone you’ve admittedly felt a bit jealous of. He looks at her too much. Gets too close when he speaks to her.
But he doesn’t acknowledge her for now. Rather, he guides you to a nearby chair. Before you sit, he strips away your clothes until you’re naked from the waist down. Then he seats you, grabs some silk ties, and ties your wrists behind your back and your ankles to the legs of the chair. You can’t move; you just have to sit there, pussy bared wide to the other student, moaning as a contraction wracks through you.
Professor Hale murmurs something to the other student -- something you can’t catch -- before he turns back to you. “Watch,” he tells you simply. “If you need something, you will beg for it.”
Before you even have the chance to say anything, he turns back to the other student and bends her over the desk. He leans forward, pressing slow, hot kisses down her back. “Look at her,” he says out loud. “You were even more beautiful.” His fingers ghost up her thighs; his fingertips gently prod her entrance. “You moaned so prettily for me. Begged me to knock you up. Remember?”
You moan once more, partly from the pain of the contractions, partly from how undeniably aroused you are at the memory.
“Pathetic,” he continues as he slips a finger inside of her. The other student whimpers; he starts to slowly thrust into her. “But so gorgeous.” Professor Hale lifts his face and meets your gaze. “I had to give you what you begged for. How does it feel now?”
You let out a loud whine, squeezing your eyes shut as pain radiates through your core. “Adrian,” you choke out, “this -- oh, fuck, this really hurts.”
“Good,” he says. He slips a second finger inside of the other student, drawing an obscene cry from her. “Your suffering will be rewarded. Your devotion will be similarly cherished.”
He suddenly removes his hand. The student lets out a displeased noise, but Professor Hale ignores her. Instead, he unbuttons his slacks and pulls both them and his boxers down until his cock is exposed. It’s already rigid and flushed; he pumps a hand down it, smearing the other student’s fluids down his length.
“Do you want to see what it looked like when I got you pregnant?” he murmurs. “While your body prepares to give me what I put inside of you?”
Your hips buck at that. “Adrian.” You squeeze your eyes shut at the intense pain and building pressure. “I think I’m getting close.”
“Not yet,” he says firmly. “You can’t push until I tell you to.”
He turns back to the other student now, rubbing the head of his cock against her entrance. She starts to cry out again, begging for more of him. His fingers card through her hair, not so much tender as it is patronizing. “Shh,” he tells her. “I’ll satisfy you soon enough.” He leans over her again, kisses the space between her shoulder blades, and then, finally, thrusts into her. She lets out a dramatic gasp, her legs suddenly going tense as he completely buries himself in her tight cunt.
“Wonderful,” he grits out. Then he turns his head towards you. “But not as perfect as you.”
He starts fucking her, hard and deep, a faint smile on his face as you squirm and whimper from your worsening contractions.
“She’ll never have what I gave you,” he says. “You’re my greatest protege.”
Fuck, you’re utterly torn between how much pain you’re in and how fucking hot this is. Your hips roll, desperate for relief from the pressure of your baby’s head, but also so goddamn desperate for him.
“Beautiful.” His eyes are dark, locked on you. “So swollen with me. So ready to give me a child.” His thrusts intensify, punching out yelps from the other student. “And as soon as you give me this one, I’ll put another one inside of you.”
“Oh, my god,” you say -- no, sob. “Adrian, fuck -- oh, god, I need to go to the hospital--”
“No.” He slams into the other student. She’s practically screaming now. “You will stay here.”
The pain rocketing through you prevents you from saying anything more. You dissolve into whimpers and groans, straining against the ties on your wrists and ankles. Meanwhile, Professor Hale keeps fucking the other student, pulling out when she gets too close to finishing, fucking her again when her begging becomes insufferable. This keeps going until--
“I need to push.” You rock your hips forward as you moan. “Adrian, fuck, I’m going to start pushing.”
One moment, he’s behind the other student at the desk; the next, he’s suddenly next to you, untying the restraints on your ankles and wrists.
“Absolutely not.” He pushes you forward so that you’re on all fours on the floor. “You will not push until I say that you’re allowed. Understood?” He glances up at the other student. “Violet, please observe.”
Your protests are shattered by a scream as he shoves himself into you. “Adrian!” you shout as tears run down your face. Everything aches so much; your body is practically begging you to push; and yet this feels fucking incredible in a way it shouldn’t.
“Quiet,” he tells you as he starts rutting inside of you furiously. “You should be grateful for this.”
You moan as your body contracts again. God, you feel so tight around him like this. “Fuck, Adrian, I am, I am.”
He continues fucking you, hissing as he slams into you over and over. “You’re perfect,” he tells you again. “Kneeling like a dog, taking my cock when you would rather be pushing.”
You arch your back, gasping at the sensation. “Adrian, please, I need to--”
The pain is unbearable. Tears fall down your face. He keeps fucking you anyway.
“Adrian, enough!” you choke out. “Oh, fuck, please, Adrian, let me push, please.”
He clicks his tongue as he speeds up. “Not yet, sweetheart.” He grips the back of your neck. “Let your master have his fun first.”
God, you don’t know how much longer you can take this. Your body starts to contract again; then, it’s pushing on its own, drawing a loud, long cry from you as you bear down. The sensation finally causes Professor Hale to break. He seizes suddenly, groans, and his cock pumps into you over and over and over. When you lift your head, you can see the other student watching you with a hand between her legs and a glassy look in her eyes.
Fuck. You are so fucking turned on.
“Adrian, god, make me come!” you scream when he pulls out.
His palm bears down on your tailbone while his other hand finds its way to the space between your legs. “Push,” he commands as he begins to touch you.
“But I want to--”
“Push,” he repeats. “Now.”
You squeeze your eyes shut as you bear down. His cum spurts out of you and drips onto the floor.
“Keep pushing,” he says, pressing down harder between your legs. “You will give me my child.”
You obey. The way his fingers rub you roughly sends painful jolts of pleasure through you. Combined with the pushing -- oh, god, you’re so fucking close. You’re so full of him, belong completely to him.
“Does that feel good?” he murmurs into your ear. “Are you going to come while giving birth to my child?”
“Yes!” you gasp.
Professor Hale smiles as he glances up towards the other student. “You wish this were you, don’t you?” he purrs. “Spread out on my floor, laboring with my child, completely mine in every way that matters.”
The baby’s head pushes down deep into your birth canal. The stretch of it causes you to scream, but the pain bleeds into the pleasure. And then, suddenly, you’re coming, and you come so hard and beautifully that the other student is also coming from the sight of it. And Professor Hale is bent over you, letting out a pleased, airy laugh against your throat.
“Push,” he orders softly. “Give me my baby.”
Your vision goes black. You nearly fucking pass out. But you keep pushing through it until -- suddenly -- there’s a squelch. Professor Hale shifts behind you.
“A son,” he murmurs into your ear. “Well done.”
You collapse now as the baby begins to wail. Professor Hale hums as cradles the baby in his arms and snips the umbilical cord.
“Violet,” he says calmly, “you’re dismissed.”
She leaves silently. You tremble on the floor, completely exhausted and out of breath.
But then Professor Hale is leaning over you once more. He presses a kiss to your temple before murmuring, “We’ll start on a daughter now.”
Content: birth denial, pushing the baby back in, erotic /orgasmic birth
When Sam woke up to the feeling of her first real contraction, she was nothing less than ecstatic. The timing was perfect, her husband would be returning from a week long out of town business trip around lunchtime, which left her with plenty of time to have everything ready for his return. They might even have time to eat dinner together before things really picked up and the baby arrived. It was going to be perfect.
When her water broke with a splash across the hardwood only an hour later, followed immediately by a contraction so severe it brought her to her knees, she began to doubt her projected timeline.
How long she stayed there, clutching at her belly and trying to remember those breathing excercises she'd found online, she wasn't sure, but she'd barely managed to get up and make it to the storage closet to get the mop when another contraction was upon her, making fluid drip down her thighs. With her water broken, the pressure had eased some, sure, but the tradeoff came with being painfully aware of the feeling of her baby's head grinding mercilessly against her cervix.
It was a slow, painful process, mopping up the mess, and by the time the fifteen minute chore was done, she'd groaned her way through three more contractions, each more painful than the last. Trying to compose herself, she shot a text off to her husband, only to get the notification that it had not been delivered. He was probably still on the plane. All she could do was wait.
Her baby, however, had no such intentions.
It still was an hour before noon when Sam felt the urge to push. She was squatting by the couch, rolling her hips through the latest contraction, when the band of her cervix must have finally effaced enough, and the head began to slide into her canal, accompanied by her body's demand to bear down.
"No, no, no, no, no!" Her wails fell on deaf ears as she dropped to the floor, squeezing her legs togather as tightly as she could. The baby couldn't come if there wasn't any room. It was a panicked, desperate thought, but it was all she had.
She rode out at least ten contractions that way, sat on the floor, writhing screaming and doing everything within her power to not push. She could do this. She could just not push. Her husband would be home any minute. He had to be, right?
The phone rang, somewhere behind her, and without thinking she turned. The moment of movement, just enough to spread her legs the barest bit, was all her body needed, and Sam was wailing at the feeling of the head forcing its way through her cervix.
Phone forgotten, Sam cried as her legs fell open, unable to keep them closed anymore. She felt the head moving down, down down, her lips beginning to bulge with the sheer size of the head behind them. Helpless to do anything else, she put both hands between her legs, as if she could physically hold back her child from emerging. It was of little use, though, and only two contractions later and her body was beginning to open in spite of her best efforts. Her baby was coming.
Panic. It was sheer, unadulterated panic that made her grab for the couch, dragging one of the large pillows to the floor. Before she could think, before she could consider what she was doing, she hauled herself up onto her knees, whimpering as gravity made the head open her more, wedged the pillow between them and sank down.
The feeling of the head being forced backwards into her body was indescribable, the noise that came out of her nothing more than animal agony. Her vision darkened around the edges for several seconds, until everything seemed to settle at once. She was still shaking with pain, of course, but the head was safely within her body. That was what mattered, and as long as she kept her weight on the pillow, it would have no way of moving until her husband got home. Everything was fine.
She got into a rhythm, then. The contraction would come, and she'd raise her hips, pushing until she began to feel that dreaded ring of fire. The moment the burn started, she'd drop back down onto the pillow, nudging the head back in until the next contraction. And then she made a different kind of mistake.
Her hips had begun to ache, both from the body currently lodged between them and the position, and she'd shifted in an attempt to regain some kind of comfort, when the soft pillowcase had dragged across her clit.
Maybe her poor body was simply overstimulated in every way, maybe the prolonged abuse of her most sensitive area had sent extra bloodflow to the little nub, maybe she was just fucking broken, but the contact sent sparks up her spine. She rolled her hips again, finally moaning in something other than agony.
It was impossible not to chase the pleasure, the fullness between her legs and the overwhelming pressure of the enormous head only amplifying her ecstacy as she rode the high farther and farther from the pain, an orgasm coiling in her gut. She was going to cum, she was going to come so fucking hard-
The burn of the head opening her into a yawning crown made her shriek, dropping her weight back down onto the pillow and sobbing until the head receded. when again, her aching slit pressed flat against the pillow, she began to rock again, doing her hardest to work herself back toward the edge.
She lost count quickly. Of how many times she'd nearly cum. Of how many times she'd defied her every instinct and felt her child recede into her abused body. Of how many times she'd felt the head nearly pop free, her oversensitive hole fluttering and twitching around the mighty stretch. It was so close. She was so close. It was too much. Too, too much.
She was going to die like this, she was sure, drowning in pain and pleasure and need. Need to birth. Need to cum. Need for this to end. Need for it to never end.
In the end, she was so far gone that she missed the sound of her liberation entirely. She missed the sound of the lock turning, of hurried footsteps, of her husband's gasp that might have been horror or arousal or awe all in one. She was deaf to the sound of his voice, the sound of it humming her name so sweetly lost beneath the hoarse, desperate scream that escaped her as she retreated once again from the brink of release.
What she was aware of, however, was the sudden feeling of the pillow being removed from between her legs, gently, slowly, but the result was immediate.
The head surged to stretch her to the widest diameter it had yet and she howled, hands reaching between her legs frantically as she fought to hold it in, to stimulate herself, to do anything, anything.
Large, warm hands seized hers forcefully, and for the first time she became aware of her husband's presence.
"It's- I- coming... I'm- oh god..." She sobbed, tears streaming down her face as she buried herself in the shoulder of the man kneeling in front of her, the man she'd done everything in her power to wait for. He was encouraging her to push, she was aware, distantly, and as if her body itself had been waiting permission, it happened.
She shrieked as the head popped out with a gush of fluid, triggering the most intense orgasm she'd ever experienced, her jaw falling slack, body twitching as in one mighty heave a truly massive set of shoulders slid free, followed immediately by a rush of movement that made her thrash as her twelve pound daughter dropped into her husband's hands, and the rest of the world went dark.
Commission for: @cosmic-kinks
Rating: Explicit (dubcon sexual content)
Word count: 7,076
Summary: You're a captive fairy being used in experiments to test fertility. You've carried eggs, bugs, slimes, and more. But now it's time to see if you can successfully reproduce with a homo sapiens—whatever that is. Transmasculine carrier, he/him pronouns.
Theme(s): NSFW, dubcon, non-human pregnancy, fairy pregnancy, size difference, micro kink, hyperpregnancy, light inflation (drugs and come), intoxication, aphrodisiacs, strong fetal movement, medical experimentation, urethral fucking (fairy to human), fingering, leaking amniotic fluid, immobilized by belly, labor suppression (drugs), lactation, mild breathing struggles (due to size difference)
Gendered anatomical language used for reader: cunt, folds, dick
Exists in the same universe as The Experiment series; parallel but separate.
"Good morning, little one. It's time to wake up."
You stretch your limbs, feeling soft fabric shift beneath you as the voice pulls you out of your reverie. Everything's fuzzy where you linger along the border of consciousness and sleep, and you want to resist the pull of growing awareness, but you can't doze forever.
Your eyes flutter open, and you find yourself staring up at the bars of a cage.
"There you are." The voice is calming, its low, masculine timbre peaceful. It's a familiar voice, one that you've grown used to hearing for… how long has it been? The weeks and months have flown by so fast that you're no longer sure.
You don't know his name. You only know him as the Researcher.
Rubbing at your eyes, you push yourself into a seated position, your wings fluttering behind you to work out the kinks of sleep. He's standing outside of your cage, an absolutely gargantuan figure of a human in comparison to your own two-foot height. He's holding some sort of board with a piece of paper clamped to it, and he seems to be taking notes as he observes you.
You'd think after all this time, he'd run out of things to write.
But then again, it feels like there's always something new happening with his work.
Your recollections of existing as a free fairy in the outside world feel like a fading dream these days, the forest where you grew up almost a distant memory. You'd only just reached maturity and struck out on your own, as your kind is wont to do, when you discovered what you now know to be a fairy trap: offerings of fresh fruit, honey, and milk laid out within a strange wire-wrapped box. You were cautious enough to examine the box with a critical eye and deem it harmless before venturing in, but all of the caution in the world meant nothing after the door snapped shut to trap you inside.
You remember hurting yourself in your panic, the cold iron of the wire burning your skin and delicate wings in your frantic struggle to escape. Then came a bright light, booming voices, pain, and then… nothing.
When you opened your eyes again, you found yourself in this cage, with the Researcher at your side. It's been that way ever since.
You think there are others of your kind here in this place, somewhere. You hear them sometimes. But you've never seen them.
"It's time for your morning exam," the Researcher informs you, as dispassionate as always, his gloved hands unlatching the front of your cage. "And today's medicine. I've also got a treat for you if you're good. Will you be good for me today?"
You learned a few things of note early on in your captivity. First, that you were much better off cooperating than fighting back. The damaged ligaments of your wings, sliced with a surgeon's precision to leave you unable to bear your own weight during flight, are evidence enough of that. And second, while you are perfectly capable of speaking, the humans talk about a whole lot of things you don't understand and show no interest in actually listening to you. So, why bother trying to hold a conversation?
So you dutifully stand and stretch your arms wide, letting the Researcher's objective yet almost gentle touch flow over your nude body. He strokes over your extremities before working his way toward your torso, where he pauses to knead your faintly bloated pecs with both thumbs. The touch should disgust you, but after being subjected to it day in and day out, it's started to grow… oddly pleasant.
"Looks like the tissue here is still a little swollen from the last reproductive test," he murmurs to himself, the tips of his thumbs rubbing circles over your tightening nipples. You can't help but shiver at the sensation. "You might still have some milk in your ducts, which is surprising, considering that you last carried…" He glances at the paper he'd set aside before opening your cage. "Ah, yes, the modified larvae of Specimen 78251. Not exactly a creature known for nursing, but then your body doesn't know that, does it?"
It's impossible to forget those creatures, honestly. The large, worm-like things filled your belly to the limit, constantly squirming and writhing beneath your skin until slithering free of your womb during their inevitable birth.
His hands finally move lower to palpate the loose skin of your belly, covered with silvery stretch marks from all of the unnatural pregnancies you've had to endure since your capture. Some of them were easier than others; the slimes were chilly but extremely supple, while the hard shells of those mysterious eggs were uncomfortable but small enough to pass without too much trouble. You can't possibly remember everything that's been stuffed inside of you to gestate at this point, but it should be coming to an end soon.
The Researcher promised.
"Well, I have to say that you've recovered quite nicely. I believe that it won't be long until you're ready for the next step in our little experiment. Isn't that exciting?"
You stare up at him and shrug. What choice do you have?
"But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Medicine first, then a tasty little tidbit for being so cooperative." The Researcher finally lets go of you to retrieve a small tray covered in a variety of medical supplies, most of which you can't make heads or tails of. Thankfully, it doesn't appear that you'll be receiving an injection today, but the syringe filled with a pale pink liquid is all too familiar.
The Researcher seems to notice the hesitance on your face and smiles, the expression nearly genuine. "Remember, as long as you remain fully cooperative, we'll release you when we're done with our tests."
You sigh and open your mouth, resigned.
The nozzle slips easily between your lips and over your tongue. You watch the Researcher start to depress the plunger and instinctively begin to guzzle the medication, letting the cool, sweet-and-bitter fluid slide right down your throat. It's easier just to take it instead of fighting—the sore jaw and near-drowning associated with being forced to swallow are not experiences you wish to repeat.
If only there weren't so damned much of it. You gulp and gulp and gulp, feeling your belly start to fill and bulge from the sheer volume of the fluid. It's a struggle to get the last mouthful down, but you somehow manage without wasting any. You're left groaning, though, rubbing a soothing hand over your rounded gut as it twinges and burbles in protest.
"There you are. Good boy. Now sit down while I get you your treat."
You drop to your knees and then shift to your rump on the bottom of your cage, plucking idly at the soft fabric that lines it while you wait for the man to follow through. Already, you can feel the strange liquid starting to blur the edges of your vision and leave your thoughts a little woozy, but it's okay.
It's okay because good boys get honey.
He only gives you a tiny dollop, but that liquid gold might as well be the nectar of the gods to a fairy like you. You forget all about your aching tummy as you greedily devour your treat, grunting and moaning as you lick the small saucer clean of every remnant you can find. At one time, you might have been embarrassed for showing such enthusiasm, but your experiences in this place have leeched most of the shame from you. It's better to gobble down the good things when they come than do without.
The Researcher takes your saucer as soon as you've finished sniffing and lapping at the plastic dish, reluctantly accepting that there's no more honey to be had. You smile lopsidedly up at him, your thoughts muddled like he'd stuffed your head full of cotton.
He's so nice for taking care of you and giving you such nice things. So big and strong and sweet, almost as sweet as the honey.
You hear the sound of a pen scratching on paper, but it doesn't bother you. The honey and other substances flow through your veins like the pleasant buzz of alcohol, wicking away all of your worries and cares, until you inevitably find yourself slumping backward.
"Whoa there, little one," he chuckles. A large hand cups you from behind and slowly lowers you down so you don't hurt yourself.
Such a nice human. The tiny squeak of a hiccup leaves you giggling, though you giggle even harder when you realize it was you who made the sound. Your medicine always makes you feel so silly. So silly and… and… warm. And fuzzy.
You hum happily to yourself, mindlessly sprawling across the fabric like a starfish.
You're so out of sorts that you don't even react to the sound of rasping metal or the stroke of something firm and slick between your legs. Something's happening, something that you probably should be concerned about, but your mind is shrouded in a pink, swirling haze of bliss.
There's… something rubbing against you. Something that feels good.
You whimper and wriggle your hips in search of a bit more friction.
"Does that feel pleasant, little one?" the Researcher asks, his voice sounding like it's coming from somewhere unexpectedly far. The rubbing between your legs continues, eased by some unknown fluid. "Would you like me to continue?"
Your chin bounces in an eager nod.
"Ah ah, I'm going to need you to use your words," he clucks, pulling that wonderful pressure away and leaving you whining. "I know you can speak."
You don't want to. If he's not going to help, then you'll just do it yourself. Eagerly spreading your knees apart, you slide a hand down over your belly and dip your fingers into the hollow void that demands to be filled. You're impossibly wet, your dick already erect and throbbing above your folds, and–
But then there's pressure at your wrists, tugging your arms away. You let out a petulant moan, thrashing against the cruel hold.
"What did I say? Speak for me."
These humans are heartless creatures, dragging you away from the pleasure your body so desperately needs. But you also really need that whatever-it-is back between your thighs before you simply explode. "Yes," you bawl, too strung out to see more than a blur of color where his face probably is. "I need it!"
"There's my good boy." And just like that, the wet friction is back.
It swirls around your straining dick and along the seam of your wet opening, spreading your juices around to make the slide even easier. You can't tell what exactly it is –a finger, perhaps, or some sort of tool– but it's difficult to care when you're in this state. When all you want is to feel something breach you and fill you up. To drive rhythmically into your body until that strange heat is sated.
Your hips drunkenly undulate, hoping against hope that whatever the Researcher is teasing you with might finally slip inside, but no matter how hard you grind down on it, it seems like it's simply too big to fit.
It's not until you're practically sobbing with frustration that the human changes the angle of his assault, and suddenly you feel your dick sink into a warm, wet recess. Your hips buck again, feeling yourself sink into that opening like it's been made for you to fuck. You're not sure what it is, but it feels incredible.
Sniveling from the sheer overpowering rapture of it, you find yourself clawing at the floor of your cage while you squirm, your hips rocking up in jerky, irregular thrusts. You need more of that squeeze around you, sucking you in, soft and warm and slick. The pressure, the friction, the way your dick throbs with every movement—it's doing something to your addled mind, making you lose yourself in the pleasure of it. You shove harder, your breath coming in short, frenzied gasps.
And then your orgasm slams into you, so intense that you find your vision blurring even more. You cry out, your body shuddering through the violence of it, your dick pulsing vainly inside that tight, wet space.
But things don't end immediately after your climax. Whatever-it-is pushes firmly against your ravenous cunt—not hard enough to enter you, but firmly enough to seal the opening of your hole over the tip.
There's a deep, groaning sort of grunt in a voice that's not your own.
Liquid heat floods your belly, forcing the skin of your abdomen to jerk and swell, until it's stretched painfully tight.
And then, your vision finally goes dark.
"Good morning, little one. It's time to wake up."
You stretch your limbs, groaning at the pressure and soreness that grows with each passing day. It's started to make it hard to get a full night's sleep, and you're exhausted.
But the Researcher's soothing voice keeps you tethered at the edge of consciousness.
"Specimen 4582 is progressing well through the twentieth week of gestation. The hybrid fetus is smaller than what might be expected for a cross with homo sapiens, but it is within acceptable estimates considering its progenitors." Familiar fingers rub over your bulging middle and begin fondling it in a clinical yet surprisingly thorough manner. "An ultrasound has not yet been conducted, but a manual exam reveals that the fetus is likely around the size of a lemon."
Your mind isn't awake enough to try and grasp the meaning behind his words, not that many of them make sense to you anyway. Instead, you let out a whine of displeasure, trying to shift away from that uncomfortable touch.
"There's no way to tell how long this pregnancy will need to progress to reach viability. We do not yet have enough data to determine how long creatures of this sort typically gestate their natural young. Experiments with other specimens have been inconclusive in this area. With that in mind, it appears to be a reasonable hypothesis to infer that this point could occur anywhere up to the usual nine-month mark."
You manage to crack your eyes open, squinting up at the man who is still talking into a little metal box and rolling your tender belly around under his fingers like a tennis ball.
"However, considering the rapid growth of Specimen 4582 thus far–"
Finally reaching the limits of your patience, you growl and smack warningly at the human's fingers, though you have enough sense to keep your claws sheathed.
"Ah, the specimen is awake. Voice log to be concluded later." You hear a click.
"Was that too much stimulation, little one?" His touch gentles and slows until it grows pleasant again, and you no longer feel the instinctive urge to bite. "I'm sorry. I forget how sensitive you're getting sometimes."
You huff in annoyance but otherwise allow him to continue caressing your swollen womb. It can be comforting as long as he's careful.
"Your belly is starting to get rather big, you know. Such a pretty little thing. But you've got a long way to go, so you simply must refrain from being so frisky. Otherwise, I may have to restrain you for your own good."
Restraints. The thought of being tied up in this state fills you with fear, and you can't choke back the whimper that rises in your throat.
"Shh, shh, little one. It's okay. I just don't want you to come to any harm." The Researcher's fingers come up to stroke the line of your jaw, a pale imitation of a lover's touch. "It's my job to look out for your well-being. Why don't you relax for me?"
Then he does something he's never done before. The Researcher leans down and presses his lips to your bulging middle, the touch soft and warm against your straining skin. It's almost affectionate.
A confused breath shudders its way out of your lungs. All you can do is nod.
He's still kissing your abdomen when you feel the warm, blunt tip of one of his fingers nudge its way between your legs. "We're going to try something different today," he murmurs, petting your sensitive flesh. "Since you'll be giving birth to something a bit larger than you have before, I need to make sure you're well-prepared. Will you let me take care of that for you?"
You swallow, your thoughts racing. You have no idea what he's put inside your womb this time, but you do know that you need to cooperate if you ever want this to end. Cooperation means freedom. So, while your instincts beg you to remain wary, you glance up at the Researcher through your lashes and give an uncertain nod.
"Wonderful," the human says with a faint smile, already reaching for something you can't see. There's a sharp pop, a bit of movement, and the Researcher's slick-coated finger is back between your thighs. It's cool, but something about the liquid leaves your skin tingling in a very agreeable way.
Maybe it's the near-constant stream of medicine flowing through your veins. Maybe you've simply been conditioned to react to his touch. Regardless of the reason behind it, you find faint sparks of pleasure starting to rise beneath his finger, the friction and pressure teasing your reluctant nerves alight.
The Researcher slowly circles your entrance, the deliberate pressure just enough to make your hips twitch. You bite down on your lower lip, trying to stifle the soft sound that threatens to escape.
Then his finger presses inside of you, and your back arches off the cage floor. You're no stranger to this part of you being stretched, not when you've already given birth to eggs, bugs, and slimes, but this feels different, somehow. Maybe it's the way he's watching you so intently, or maybe it's the mystery of having no idea what's gestating in your womb. Whatever it is, it makes your pulse pick up like the beat of a drum, your chest rising and falling with shallow, panting breaths.
You lie there as he works his finger deeper, the slick glide smooth and unhurried. It's a tight fit—you're not built to take something this big, and the Researcher knows it, but the knowledge doesn't seem to slow him down. Your body clenches instinctively around his fingertip, and he hums softly with a sound that might be approval. His other hand shifts to your hip, holding your body steady as he starts to move with more confidence. In and out, each thrust as deliberate and measured as the next.
Sensation builds quickly, causing heat to pool low in your belly. You can feel every wrinkle of the strange white glove he wears, every subtle shift of his finger as it drives and curls inside of you. Your maimed wings quiver at your back, a telltale sign of your growing arousal, and you can't stop the small moan that slips past your lips.
"Good," he murmurs again, his voice a low rumble that's unlike any your kind makes. "You're taking me so well."
The Researcher's pace quickens slightly, the rhythm of his thrusts becoming more insistent. Your hands tangle in the fabric that covers the floor of your cage, your knuckles turning white as you tighten your grip, pleasure coiling within you like a spring. His fingertip nudges against a particularly sensitive spot that makes you gasp, and your hips buck wantonly against his hand.
"There it is," he says, almost to himself. You have no idea what he's looking for or what it does, but he seems to focus on that spot anyway with each precise, unrelenting movement, even if you can barely take him to the first knuckle. The pressure of your lust builds deep in your core until it's almost unbearable, your body trembling with the need for release.
"Please," you whisper, though you're not sure what exactly you're asking for. For more? Faster? Harder? For freedom from this near-torturous pleasure?
He doesn't respond, but his finger doesn't stop either. He just keeps driving it into you, rocking your tiny body with the force of every shove. You're left staring sightlessly up at the ceiling of your cage, gasping, panting, whimpering, until finally, the tension just snaps.
You cry out, feeling an orgasm quake through your body and shake you to your very foundations. Convulsing, your cunt clenches around his finger like a vise.
The Researcher keeps moving through it, drawing out your orgasm until you're shaking and mewling with overstimulation. Only then does he withdraw the digit from your well-fucked hole, the sudden emptiness making you sob. Your vision wavers as you watch him step back, peeling off the glove with a practiced motion and tossing it away.
"That was adequate, at least for now," he says, reaching for the board and paper again. "We'll continue further preparations tomorrow."
You don't have the energy to respond. Your body feels heavy, your mind a haze of exhaustion and lingering pleasure. But as the Researcher's footsteps fade, you can't help but wonder what he might have in store for you next.
"–wake up."
No. You just want to sleep. You have just enough freedom of movement to sort of curl up around your increasingly ungainly abdomen, yawning and trying to ignore the voice.
It's been so hard to sleep lately as the offspring in your womb continues to grow. You've never seen a pregnant fairy get as large as you are before; your belly is far too massive to allow you to move with any ease. But with your offspring's increased size comes more activity. It started out as faint flutters, like tiny butterflies flying around in your stomach. Now, every time whatever you're carrying shifts or kicks, it's enough to shake your whole body.
"Specimen 4582 has reached the thirtieth week of gestation. The hybrid fetus remains active and seemingly healthy. A recent ultrasound shows that the fetus is approximately the size of a cantaloupe and could weigh as much as a pound, which is impressive considering that the pre-pregnancy weight of Specimen 4582 was recorded at approximately eight pounds."
You crack your eyes open to peek at your belly. You have no idea what a cantaloupe is, but it must be enormous.
As you watch, the hot, red skin of your abdomen starts to ripple and contort. You stare in hazy fascination while the life within you shifts—a new being gestating within your body like you're little more than a fleshy sack.
The thought should probably bother you more than it does.
"In order to make the pregnancy more… tolerable for the subject, I have been administering a daily dose of a synthetic methamphetamine to stimulate their libido upon waking, as well as a daily tocolytic to prevent pre-term labor. So far, there have been no negative side effects."
There's a faint pinch and then a sting in your arm. You grumble, wishing he'd not bother you with his senseless babble or by filling you with medicine when you're so tired, but you know better than to move until the needle slides free.
The offspring inside of you jolts and starts to squirm like it's been energized by whatever he's pushed into your veins. Wide-eyed, all you can do is gape at the sight of your skin as it starts to stretch and expand around spindly limbs. Your belly shudders like it has a mind of its own, clearly agitated. Not for the first time, you wonder what they've put inside of you.
But the contents of your womb are not all that the medicine stimulates.
The Researcher's voice drones on as liquid heat starts to spread through your gravid form. It's subtle at first, almost something you can ignore, but it flares brighter and hotter with each passing minute. It's getting harder to breathe, your breath coming in short, heavy pants, and an unnatural flush feels like it's on the cusp of setting your skin afire.
But it's nothing compared to the ember of lust that bursts to life between your thighs.
The background noise dies out, and the next thing you know, the Researcher's voice is much closer. "Oh, you poor thing," he whispers in a syrupy-sweet voice as he strokes your writhing abdomen. "My apologies for leaving you in such a state. Let me fix that."
Between the restraints and the massive size of your pregnant belly, there's not much you can do to avoid his attention, even if you want to. You're suspended in a medical hammock that cradles your ever-growing form without forcing you to lie flat, your legs and feet dangling free while your useless wings hang limp. The device puts you roughly at the same level as his belt buckle, a fact that doesn't mean much to you until you realize that he's opening the front of his pants to dip a hand inside.
Oh.
Your mouth falls open in wonder as you watch him free his cock and begin to stroke it, the flesh gradually beginning to plump and rise before your gaze. It's just as huge as the rest of him, and you know for a fact that there's no place in your body where that could possibly fit.
Gods. It's a good thing it can't fit, too, because otherwise, he might be able to plant his seed in your belly and get you pregnant. The possibility is horrifying.
There's no way you can carry a human child!
"Don't worry, little one, I'm not going to pierce you with this, no matter how much we'd both like that," he chuckles, completely ignorant of your growing panic. "Unfortunately, you're just too small for such things right now. But that doesn't mean that I can't help you in other ways."
He slides a crooked finger up along the cleft between your legs, gathering the fluids that have already begun to leak out of you on the tip of his finger. It's just enough of a touch to steal your breath and make your back arch as you let out a high-pitched whimper.
Your mind isn't sure that it wants this, but your body sure as hells does.
"That's right, just relax." The swell of your wriggling belly blocks you from seeing most of his movements, but it doesn't do anything to stop the pleasure that's starting to curl in your core. The Researcher's fingertip circles around the straining nub of your dick, making it rise eagerly from its nest among your folds. "We both know how much of an insatiable little thing you are when your womb is full, and it's going to help you feel so much better if you let me take care of you."
You don't understand why this is happening, why your body reacts so intensely, why this alien touch makes you feel so good, but it does. Curling your fists over the straps that keep the hammock suspended, you can't stop your hips from canting up to meet the pressure and grinding into his finger, not any more than you can stop the hiccuping mewl of pleasure that it wrings out of you.
"Good boy," the Researcher says, helping himself to a fresh batch of slick before his strokes begin moving faster and with more focus.
It's… it's too much. The heat blazing through your body burns with a fury that wipes your mind of any coherent thought. All you are in this moment is a being of lust whose fires are being stoked out of control. You writhe and cry out, needing more, harder, inside–
"Let's hear you come for me."
You hear his words, and you feel his finger slide into you and drive deep, and you shatter into stardust.
All you can do in the wake of your orgasm is hang there and gasp frantically for breath as he rubs his hard shaft against your belly, until your skin is painted with something warm and wet.
Sleep is fitful when it comes these days.
You feel like you're constantly hovering in a state of semi-lucidity, spending more time dozing than you do awake. And even your waking hours remain hazy, shadowed by the inexplicable lust that seems to dog your every moment.
Someone is talking. There's a familiar pinch. You struggle back to awareness.
"Specimen 4582 has reached the thirty-third week of gestation. The health and activity levels of the hybrid fetus remain within the expected parameters. Yesterday's ultrasound showed that the fetus has grown to roughly the size of a head of cauliflower."
A warm palm comes to rest against your abdomen, curling appraisingly over the tight dome. A thumb rubs almost affectionately over the stretch marks littering your once-pristine skin before circling the bulge of your popped navel.
"While the restraints are no longer necessary due to the subject's size reaching a state that leaves them immobile, I have elected to continue using them, as well as the tocolytic, to reduce the symptoms of false or pre-term labor. I remind the board that it is imperative to my research that Specimen 4582 gestates their offspring for as close to the term of a normal homo sapiens pregnancy as possible."
The distended spheroid of your pregnant abdomen hangs heavily before you, every movement of your hybrid child visible through the veil of your skin. It's been stretched so tight at this point that it's practically translucent, a sheer, paper-thin layer of flesh decorated by a delicate network of blood vessels. When the light hits your skin the right way, you can see a dark shape shifting within—undoubtedly humanoid and very, very large.
There's nothing 'normal' about your pregnancy.
But despite your apprehension, the heat at your core is rising again, twisting under your skin and leaving you squirming. It feels wrong, but you find yourself almost craving what you know will come next.
"I have also decided to employ manual techniques to prepare the subject's body for the upcoming birth. Further details will be listed in my written reports."
His hand drifts lower, cupping momentarily beneath your overgrown belly before a finger nudges purposefully between your legs.
You barely even hesitate before pulling them further apart.
Your body is clearly ready for him, if the slick dripping down your thighs is any indication. The tip of his finger is blunt but thick as it circles your opening, teasing, pressing lightly—just not nearly enough. Your feet and toes curl as you try to thrust your hips greedily toward his touch, as if you could somehow force the finger deeper out of sheer need. But unfortunately for you, you lack the strength necessary to shift the weight of your ponderous abdomen.
He's completely ignoring your dick right now, but you can feel the pulse of your heartbeat throbbing through the erect flesh. Gods, this isn't fair.
"Take it easy, little one," the Researcher gently murmurs, another muted push leaving you moaning in frustration. "Think of the baby."
But you can't think of the baby, not when every nerve ending in your body is screaming to feel him inside of you. You can't think about your captivity, or your strange compliance, or his broken promises of release. You can't think of anything but more and harder and now now now–
One hand grips you through the hammock, steadying your form, while a finger of the other finally plunges into you.
You howl.
It's big, almost too big, that foreign intrusion into your most secret place. But your desperate body still welcomes it in with a wet squelch and tries to swallow it whole. Your eyes roll back in your head, wide yet unseeing, every shred of your consciousness narrowing down on the single point of mind-melting lust between your legs.
"That's good," the Researcher says, sliding his finger in to the second knuckle. "Look how well you take it."
It's not like you have a choice when your body burns and aches for it with a fervor that threatens to drive you mad. Half keening, half sobbing, you throw your head back and buck your hips as best you can under your abdomen's hefty weight, every bit the picture of mindless lasciviousness.
Unperturbed by its parent's torment, the child in your womb turns and kicks, tenting your delicate skin over a not-so-tiny heel. It's strong enough to be uncomfortable, to even leave the overtaxed skin burning a little.
The Researcher's finger crooks and hits something just right.
And just like that, you shatter again.
You're leaking.
Your chest aches from the burgeoning pressure of glands swollen with milk for a yet-unborn child, but every brush of your nipples sends a thrilling spark of pleasure through your body.
"Specimen 4582 has reached the thirty-sixth week of gestation. The hybrid fetus shows no signs of health issues, and ultrasounds indicate it has reached approximately the size of a honeydew melon. While we are still a week away from the typical period when labor can be expected to begin, my estimations calculate that the fetus is taking up an increasingly high percentage of the subject's total body mass, so some symptoms of parturition may not be too far off."
Panting and squirming with need, you fondle your chest and let out a little hiss of relief when you manage to coax some of that liquid free. It spills over your fingers and down over your impossibly large belly, a pendulous mass that hangs heavily from your hips and swings with every movement.
There's fluid between your legs, too, a mixture of your slippery natural lubricant and a faint dribble of the clear fluid that your womb is no longer able to hold inside.
"I have employed additional straps to cradle the underside of the subject's abdomen in hopes of reducing some of the strain on their small frame. While the tocolytic continues to stave off labor, the unfortunate reality is that the subject's body is not intended to carry such a large offspring, and Specimen 4582 has been continuously leaking amniotic fluid for the past few days. We may have no choice but to bring this experiment to a close sooner rather than later."
You should probably be worried about the things he's saying, but it's impossible to think straight when the Researcher is slowly plunging two of his fingers in and out of your hungry cunt.
Everything about you is drawn tight and stretched to the max, leaving you feeling like a balloon pumped full of too much air. But your belly isn't full of air—it's full of a living, wriggling baby that continues pushing your physical boundaries past what you think you can handle.
It's only thanks to the Researcher's care that you've been able to make it this far.
With his fingers in your cunt and his bare cock rubbing over the overstretched skin of your aching middle, the entirety of your existence is centered on the man's twisted attention. All you can focus on is the unbearable pressure—the weight of the offspring inside you, the hungry void between your legs, the way your chest dribbles with every shallow, gasping breath.
The Researcher looms over you, your god as much as he is your tormentor. The fingers inside of you are still buried deep, curling and stretching you open, while he grips the base of his cock and drags it along the taut curve of your belly. "According to my observations, it appears that Specimen 4582 is amenable to participating in a more manual approach to the induction of amniorrhexis. I will therefore begin the process now, and continue my notes once the procedure has concluded."
You haven't a clue what he's talking about, with all of those long, nonsensical words, but you are very well aware of the pulsating emptiness that fills you when he slowly withdraws his fingers. You whimper, the sound escaping before you can stop it. The loss of him is nearly unbearable, at least until his fingers are almost immediately replaced with the blunt pressure of something much larger against your sopping hole.
"You're ready," he says, his voice cool and detached, as if he's stating a fact rather than an observation.
Your body instinctively protests, your cunt clenching around nothing as if it could possibly hope to deny him entry. But all of the conditioning the Researcher has been subjecting you to has done its work too well. Your hips twitch forward, seeking more of him despite the muddled fear inspired by his overwhelming size. He's massive compared to you, with a cock thicker than your arm, and the thought of him pushing that thing into you should be terrifying.
Instead, it sends a jolt of delirious need straight through your core.
He doesn't wait for permission—not that he ever has, nor could you give it even if you wanted to. With a firm grip on your hip, he pushes forward, the head of his cock stretching you open in one slow, deliberate motion.
The sensation makes you cry out, your back trying and failing to arch beneath the impossible weight of your belly while your body struggles to accommodate him. Even with the lubricant and his careful movements, the stretch is still excruciating, your inner walls burning as they're forced to yield to his unnaturally large girth. But buried beneath the pain is a deep, aching pleasure, the kind that makes your impaired wings flutter and your breath catch in your throat.
"Relax," he commands.
You want to argue, to tell him that your body is simply not built to take someone of his proportions, but the words die in your throat as he pushes deeper. Your cunt spasms around him, trying in vain to adjust, but he doesn't stop. Inch by excruciatingly slow inch, he fills you, until you can feel the sheer mass of him lodged in your torso. You can feel every ridge, every vein, as he stretches you to your limits and beyond.
Gods, if you weren't already obscenely pregnant, you'd probably be able to see his cock bulging right through the skin of your abdomen.
Once he's fully sheathed inside you, the Researcher pauses to give you a moment to adjust. But it's not enough. Your body already felt overloaded by the offspring in your womb. Adding his cock on top of that makes you feel like your middle might split like an overripe fruit. You pant, sucking frantic, heaving breaths through lungs that barely have the room they need to expand, the restricted oxygen leaving you lightheaded. And yet there's still a strange, satisfying sense of fullness that makes your head spin.
Then he moves.
The Researcher's first thrust is slow, careful, but it nevertheless drives more of the limited air from your lungs. Your cunt clutches at him, trying to hold on as he pulls back and pushes in again. The rhythm he sets is relentless, each stroke driving him deeper into you and making your enormous abdomen bounce hard enough to make you cry out in pain. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your ragged breathing and his occasional grunts, and the cage rattles as he fucks you with a precision that borders on heartless.
In the midst of it all, a visible bump rises just beneath your ribs, pushing out against the skin and slowly dragging along the dome of your stomach before vanishing. Then comes another shift, a hard, sudden jolt from the inside that leaves your flesh rippling, the curve distorting, like a wave rolling from one side to the other. A knee or an elbow –or some stubborn, unknown part– presses out and doesn't ease up, giving your womb a full-on shove. It's a slow, grinding push, as if the baby is stretching as far as possible in both directions at once, testing the boundaries of its prison.
The ache is enough to leave you gasping. You're not sure how much more of this abuse your belly can take.
Still, the pleasure of being fucked builds quickly and distracts you from the pain, a coil tightening in your belly with every movement. The aphrodisiac amplifies every sensation, making it impossible to think of anything but the way he fills you, the way his cock rubs against that spot inside you that makes your vision blur. Your legs tremble, your toes curling as the tension in your body grows unbearable. Your hobbled wings shudder and twitch beneath you in anticipation of the rapture to come.
"You're close," he observes, his voice calm and clinical even as he fucks you with a ferocity that is far too much for a being of your size, the force of it leaving you gasping. "Good. Let it happen. Your body knows what to do."
You don't have a choice.
The orgasm crashes over you without warning, your body convulsing as pleasure rips through you. Your cunt clenches around him, milking his cock as waves of ecstasy wash away your thoughts. You scream, the sound raw and unfiltered, as your body betrays you completely.
But he doesn't stop. If anything, he fucks you harder, driving into you with a fervor that makes your vision go white around the edges. The overstimulation is almost too much to bear, but you can't fight it. Your body responds eagerly, chasing the pleasure despite the pain.
And then it happens.
Your cunt gushes with liquid warmth, far too much for what you've just done. But rather than be deterred by it, the Researcher simply punches even further into your battered body and shudders, adding his own seed to the mess leaking out of you.
It's only then that he pauses to observe you, panting softly. "There you are," he murmurs, his fingers brushing over the swollen mass of your stomach, which has begun to tighten and clench in a way it never has before. "It seems that the procedure was successful."
You barely hear him. Your body is still trembling, your mind clouded by orgasm and exhaustion. But somewhere in the haze, a new kind of panic begins to set in.
The baby is finally coming.
You just don't know what will happen now.
"Don't worry, little one," the Researcher says with a smile that's almost warm. "I promise I'll take care of you."
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Pre-story notes: Have you ever driven through Nebraska to Colorado? If you haven't, let me set the stage for you. You have the interstate, a simple highway cutting through a vast empty expanse, and that's it. It's the only sign that humanity has ever existed. To quote James May, it's probably what the world looked like on page three of the book of Genesis. Exits are few and far between, and on more than one of them, the only thing at these exits is a single gas station, usually with no one there if it's after ten in the evening. As near as I can tell, it's the single most empty place to drive in the U.S., though I could be wrong. I found the isolation inspiring.
~
Elizabeth sighed as she rubbed her eyes. Years ago, when they'd first come out, she never thought she'd ever consider buying an electric car, but now, the one she had, whisper quiet and with an actually decent auto-pilot? She could recline a bit and relax. It was a car from a smaller, start-up company called Conduit, which overall was a nice alternative to any of the big names in that field. So she was able to recline comfortably back in the driver's seat of her little Conduit Accel as it whirred down the interstate. The sun had set hours ago, and she was still only about halfway through the mostly empty state of Nebraska. She didn't know why it gotten such a bad reputation for smell, because even at nine months pregnant, bloodhound nose and all, Elizabeth could smell nothing out of the ordinary for vast expanses of farmland.
"Eh, maybe it's seasonal," She decided as she adjusted herself in the seat.
Just because she had more options to get comfortable in a car she didn't have to drive didn't mean that she was having any luck find a position that wasn't uncomfortable. And as she huffed as she readjusted herself, she felt another discomfort.
"Spill detected," The pleasant voice of the car intoned, letting her know that a liquid had been spilled on the floor of the vehicle.
"Uhhh, no kidding," Liz said as she looked down.
She'd been trying to find a way she could recline without the pressure of her still high belly aggravating her when a small shift, maybe a bump in the road, maybe just a little too much pressure from her seat belt, or maybe it was just time, but her water had broken, and was dripping and pooling under her on the seat.
"Accel, where is the nearest hospital?"
"Searching… searching… signal low… searching… Adam's Memorial Hospital is Approximately one hundred and ten miles from your present location. Would you like me to reroute? "
"Shit… Accel, please reroute to that hospital."
"Rerouting… Please note, that maximum range at this time is fifty-seven miles."
"Goddamnit!" Liz shouted, shifting uncomfortably as she felt something massive seem to settle in her hips.
Normally, she was pretty easy going, but prolonged discomfort would take the smile off of anyone.
"Accel, is there a charging point on the way?"
"Searching… signal low… searching… Eco Mart Service Station is located forty miles on the selected route."
"Accel, go there."
"Accepted."
The car blinked it's signal and began exiting the interstate, headed to the service station.
Before she had gone more than ten miles, Liz had started having contractions. Her phone service had pretty much completely gone, and the car's autopilot was driving on it's own built in memory now.
"Ohhhhhh goooooddddddd," She moaned as the car drove on, the speed never wavering by even a single mile. Soon, the empty night of the drive was interrupted by the faint glow ahead of the service station. The car expertly exited the highway and drove to the station. Liz slowly sat the seat up, gasping as she changed position and drove more pressure into her cervix. Gritting her teeth, she looked through tear streaked eyes until she saw the charging station. It wasn't much of one, a simple post with a card reader next to it. Elizabeth figured that a quick charge, maybe a half hour or so should get her enough of a charge to make it to the hospital. If there wasn't much range once she got there, she would deal with the problem then. Pulling up to the post, Liz turned off the car and got out, gasping as the full weight of the baby suddenly lurched down. She paused, turning to lean on the roof of the car, swaying her hips as the contraction peaked and released her.
"Fucking hell, this is too fast," She panted, waddling over, her hips unaccustomed to the solid mass of a head nestled between them, and running her car through the reader. The Post lit up green and Liz grabbed the cable, popping the latch on the charging port on her car, plugging it in, and out of habit, flicking the trigger on the inside of the flap. As the car made a whirring and clicking noise, Liz froze and looked down with horror. Back at her apartment, she was in the habit of triggering the LockDown! setting to stop the kids in her building from unplugging it overnight.
"No. No, no, no, no, no, no, NO!" She cried, wrapping her hand around the cable and tugging at it.
It was no good, the car had locked itself around the cable. It wasn't going to release it.
Liz got into the car can turned on the onboard computer.
"Come on, come on…" She muttered, flipping through settings, stopping as she had yet another contraction.
This one drove the breath from her lungs, stopping her from doing anything other than hold a hand to her belly and freeze, waiting the contraction out. When it finally released her, she found the LockDown! settings.
"Great, now let's see…" She said under her breath as she tapped release. She didn't hear anything.
Frowning, Liz heaved herself out of the low slung car again, and checked the cable. Still locked in. Returning to the cabin, but this time just leaning in, Liz tapped the release again. Still nothing.
"What the hell?" She shouted, climbing back in and tapping the release control yet again.
This time, an error message scrolled across the screen,
'Sorry, the LockDown! feature cannot be manually disengaged until a minimum charge of seventy-five percent has been reached.'
Liz looked at the battery indicator. It was pulsing red, with a disheartening fifteen percent next to it.
It was warm enough that sitting in the car while it was off was uncomfortable, so Elizabeth waddled back and forth across the small parking lot of the service station. It wasn't completely shut down, with the big monument sign blaring the name across the landscape in neon letters, and the yellow bulbs of the canopy over the gas pumps providing enough light to see her surroundings. Outside of the yellow circle of light however, it was blacker than her car's tires. She paced back and forth, huffing and groaning through contractions as they came. She had already checked her phone and found that she had no signal at all. There was a payphone, but the handset was missing from it, and regardless, not only did she not actually have any change in her car, she doubted the thing was still connected, even if it was in one piece. The station itself was also not an option, the doors were all locked and the only lights from within were from the coolers. A sign on the door said that it would be open by six in the morning, a good seven hours away at this point. So now Liz was laboring, alone, and unable to call for help in the middle of nowhere. As she stopped her pacing and bent over as another contraction took her breath away, she checked her phone. She couldn't call with it, but it still told her the time. eleven-thirty. On some level, it pleased her that her contractions were not only staying at five minutes apart, but that they were on tens and fives on the clock. On another level, she found it hard to be pleased by anything as she groaned loudly in the quiet night. She had been pacing for thirty minutes now, and had waddled back to the car to check the charging progress. The display lit up and cheerily displayed a heartbreaking twenty percent. She closed her eyes and ran through the numbers in her head.
"So if it's been half an hour, added five percent… OW!"
Liz was standing outside of the car and leaning in, resting her hands on the driver's seat, and the new position was not comfortable. Her legs buckled and she thrashed, working her way out of the car. Elizabeth twisted and landed hard on the ground, gasping as she impacted the loose gravel that had been carried over the old cracked asphalt.
"OW! Holy fuck that hurt…" She whined, rubbing her belly.
The contraction passed as quickly as any of the others had, and she slowly got herself back up. It felt like her tailbone was bruised, and she had to wipe dirt from her pants, which were still damp from her water breaking. Waddling over to one of the gas pumps, she got a squirt of hand sanitizer from the only dispenser that had any in it and wiped her hands dry on a paper towel from one of the window washing buckets.
"Right… so if I got five percent in a half hour… It's going to be damn near six before I can get out of here!" She complained, working the numbers out.
"HUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Liz screamed an hour later.
She'd resigned herself to laboring here until her car would unlock. She made a note to talk to someone at Conduit, and see if she could convince them to change the LockDown! programming. But until then, she just paced back and forth, stopping only to scream her way through contractions. If nothing else, maybe she could get the attention of someone. Unfortunately, Elizabeth didn't think that was likely, since she hadn't seen a car since she'd pulled off the interstate two hours ago. So she paced, shouted and every few contractions, would check the charge level of the car. It was steadily creeping up, and she resolved to look at it less frequently, as she felt that every minute she could cut the charge time short on the Accel mattered. The contraction timing app on her phone had told her more than once that she should head to the hospital, and she had nearly thrown the damn thing into a field as a result. She knew she should be at a hospital, and if her brain hadn't been so fogged from her contractions, she might have gotten there by now.
"Oh god, here comes another one… HUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGHHHH! AHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
On and on her contractions went, never speeding up, but the pressure was getting worse. She had been leaking more and more amniotic fluid as she went, and every now and then would check the color. It was still pretty much clear, with light pink tinges through it. From the little she knew of birth, she assumed that meant nothing was wrong. At least it wasn't green. The temperature had gone up slightly, but fortunately it was still dry. Liz had a bottle of water in her car, but had been rationing it. She didn't know how long she would be laboring for, and didn't want to run out before she had a chance to get to a hospital. She had just paced to the far edge of the service station's parking lot and was howling her way through another contraction when she heard something. Something that sent a blade of ice into her heart.
'AWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO'
Liz felt her blood run cold as she heard the animalistic howl. She'd heard it on tv many times, but only once or twice in real life. It was a wolf. And it sounded close.
"Oh god," She whimpered, "Oh god oh god oh godddd."
Her panicked rambling cut off as she felt another contraction.
"HUUUAAAAAAnnnnngnggggggggmph," She groaned, clamping a hand over her mouth and stifling the howling screaming she had been doing, the sound that had probably alerted the predator.
When the contraction ended, she removed her hand, her breath sounding loud and rasping in her ears as she gulped in air.
"Maybe… maybe it's far away," She muttered to herself, feeling shaky from fear. She looked back and forth, and had just started turning to head back to her car when something caught her eye. Freezing, she slowly turned to look. Flicking her eyes back and forth, she tried to pick out what had caught her attention, but didn't see anything at first. Then, just beyond the glow of the service station lights, she saw a bright point of light. Two bright points, actually. Ones that never wavered, or moved. She looked at the glowing dots until they flicked, as if a pair of flashlights were turned off and on quickly. She blinked in surprise, and went numb as she realized. The dots didn't flicker. The EYES had BLINKED.
Elizabeth could remember what she had learned when she was younger about what to do if she saw a wolf. Afterward, she berated herself for her actions, remembering that she should ahve waved her arms, gotten loud and backed away slowly. What she actually did was stumble backwards, landing hard on her back and desperately scrambled to her feet, running for her car. She heard a deafening barking and snarling behind her, and she half waddled, half ran to her car, opening the door and scrambling in as fast as she could, slamming the door shut behind her, panting heavily. In the light of the canopy, she could see the wolf, for it was a wolf, slowing and howling in frustration. She heard it through the closed door of the car, and, more chillingly, heard answering howls. She began sobbing, regardless of the knowledge that there was no way a wolf could get to her in the car, terrified. She had been so close to… she didn't want to think about it. She collapsed against the steering wheel, her lungs hurting from her fear and her frightened crying. She didn't know how long she sat like that before she felt the next contraction.
"Oh…. AH! OWWWWWW! OH GOD!" She howled, wincing at how much louder her voice seemed to be in the enclosed space.
Liz had gotten a short break from the contractions as she raced to the safety of her car, but no more. They had returned, and seemed even stronger for it. The came faster now, and she could swear she could feel her hips splitting apart.
"I just want to get ouuuuuttt!" Elizabeth cried a number of contractions later.
The wolves, the first had been joined by a few others had kept trotting around the parking lot, keeping Liz trapped in her car. Her back was on fire, being force to sit in her car's seat this entire time. She had tried reclining the seat, but with the car off, she couldn't move the thing, and she found that as long as the car was plugged in, she couldn't recline it. The only features she could access were some basic settings and the charger indicator. She was sitting at fifty percent now, more than enough to reach the hospital, but still not enough to let the LockDown! feature disengage. So for now, she tried to labor in the bucket seat of the car she was now regretting buying. As each contraction came, she let herself scream as she put one hand on a door and the other on the center console, trying to lift herself up. Getting her hips free of the seat almost felt like giving them room to spread apart, which felt awful, but better than staying immobile. As each contraction ended and she would gingerly lower herself back into the seat, Liz would rock back and forth, trying to ease her back. It slightly helped, but the seat, which had once felt soft and comfortable now felt as unyielding as a metal folding chair. As difficult as dealing with all of that was, Liz felt like she could have handled it if it weren't for one problem. It was getting warm. With the AC off in the car, the windows were quickly fogging up as she labored, sweat pouring off of her as she panted. The air felt thick and smelled stale, the salty scents of her sweat, the heady musk of amniotic fluid, and some sort of earthy smell she couldn't place.
It got to the point where she had to take her blouse off, the long sleeved shirt proving to be too warm for what she was doing. And by now, the fog on the windows would have hidden her from view anyway. She checked the charge level, and was surprised to see that it was nearly at sixty percent. She considered putting the AC on, but felt that she was close enough to a full charge that she could last until it was time to unplug and head for the hospital. She could make it… she could make it… She could.
"HUUUUUUUAAAAAARRRRGGGNNNNNNHHHHHHHHHHHH!" She screamed, the full throated vocalization trailing off into a prolonged whining grunt as she felt something seem to slam into her cervix. All of a sudden, she felt like she was sitting on a bowling ball and she panicked. Was that the head? Was it out? She reached down and felt through her pants, but didn't feel anything. She knew her pants would be a problem, but she couldn't even bear to bring herself to think of that right at this second. All she knew was that she had finally felt an urge to push. Unlike from all of the videos and classes she'd taken, it wasn't a mild urge, one that would build over time. This one felt as unstoppable as her heartbeat. She was certain that not pushing would kill her if she tried to resist. Doing her best to hold her butt off of the seat below her, Elizabeth gave in, pushing as hard as she could.
"NNNYYYYAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGHHH!" She screamed a few contractions later.
Each contraction, Liz would start by taking a deep breath, as if she were about to dive underwater, haul her body up off of the seat to give everything room, and would push. But after only a few rounds of pushing like that, she began to grow light headed and was feeling dizzy from holding her breath. Now she held nothing back, screaming until her throat felt raw, her ears ringing at the painfully loud noises she made that were trapped by the car. Her forearms felt bruised from the strain she put on them to keep her swollen frame up, but there were nothing compared to the vile stretching she felt within. The head moved down so slowly, it was like watching molasses drip into a new jar. Each inch of progress was hard won, and each little victory came with a stretching that felt like a thousand ants biting her vagina. She reached down and her eyes widened. Her pants were still on, high waisted maternity leggings. With her blouse off, Liz could at least grab the waistband without any trouble, but doing so meant she had to let herself sag back into the seat.
"Ohhhh, ohhhhh GOD! OW!" She screamed as she attempted to gingerly lower herself back into the seat to get the leggings off.
The head was low enough now that moving down at all felt like she was shoving a bowling ball up her vagina. She frantically tugged at the uppermost portion of the high belly band of her leggings, but had to quickly shove herself back off of the seat as she began seeing stars from the pain. Before she could recover, she felt another contraction crushing her belly.
"HoooooooOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHH! HHHHUUUUUAAAAAAAAANNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGG!"
Liz's jaw hurt from how hard she was clenching, certain that if she held it for much longer she might break a tooth. Just as she ran out of the strength to continue the push, the contraction left her, and she sagged, her shoulders hunched and digging into her neck as she slumped as best as she could while not fully sitting.
"Gotta… get… them… off!" Elizabeth grunted, and began shuffling her legs.
Liz moved her legs, trying to hook one sleeve on the bottom of her shoe and pull it down, but every time it caught and tugged a bit, it would slip off. She began to feel the same sort of frustration she would if she had to use the bathroom, or was too hot while driving. A sort of trapped hopelessness that was made worse by her entire situation. She was trapped in this parking lot, trapped in her car, and now she was trapped in her own pants. She began to cry, each hitching whimper aching her already overworked belly, a sensation that got worse as she contracted.
"No…. no why? HAGH! HNNNNNGGGGGGGG….."
She pushed, and felt burning in her crotch. She couldn't free one of her hands to check, but she could tell. Her vagina was beginning to bulge out. But even as she felt it, the burning subsided, and she shuddered as she could feel her vagina relaxing back again, the delicate folds catching on the now seemingly rough material of the leggings. As the contraction ebbed, Liz let her head fall back onto the seat. She winced as the clip holding her brunette hair back poked at her head as she did so. She wanted to reach up to pull the offending accessory out, but was still too afraid to move one of her hands to do so. She reluctantly raised her head back up, letting it fall forward towards her chest, gazing through tear streaked eyes at her heaving belly. She wanted to do nothing more than to rub soothing circles on it, to ease the knots building in it, but all she could do was look at herself, wondering how things could have come to this.
"Battery, seventy percent charged," The Accel's voice said pleasantly in Liz's ear.
She groaned. The car was so close to being ready. Another half hour and she could be on her way to the hospital, on her way to help… if only she could get out of the car to unplug it when it was time. At this point, Liz could no longer see or hear anything outside of the car, though that could be because the window was too fogged up to see anything at all. But even if she knew it was completely safe to exit, she no longer believed she was able to do so. Her arms were trembling, locked in position, holding her body off of the seat as she endured and pushed through contraction after contraction. If felt as if the baby were trying to get around a corner, and she knew that once it made it, the rest of the birth would be fast.
"HUUUAAAAAAAAAA! AH, AH, AH… AAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGHHH!"
The ringing in her ears was constant now, but she couldn't stop herself from vocalizing with every contraction at this point. It felt like the baby's head was wobbling, tilting back and forth in her pelvis, but no matter how hard she pushed, it wouldn't stay in the center. She didn't know how else to visualize the feeling, but she could also tell that with each push, it seemed to be wobbling less and less, getting closer and closer to a center. And with this push, she made it. The head seemed to balance, sitting so, so low in her birth canal, that it felt like she could sneeze and it would come out. But what she felt wasn't a sneeze. What she felt building was raw, primal, and beyond anything she had ever felt before, or even thought her body capable of. The next contraction brought with it, not an urge to push, but an instruction, an undeniable DEMAND that she push.
"HuuuuuaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR! HNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH! OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!" Elizabeth howled into confines of her car.
She could barely hear herself as she… she wasn't pushing. She was pushing. Everything she was, was devoted to the single effort. The pressure was so intense she felt like her belly might simply crush down into nothing, her baby expelled instantly. But it didn't happen like that. The sturdy, comfortable leggings she had practically lived in for the last month or so caught and slowed it. Her single mammoth effort brought the baby down from her cervix to nearly a full crown in a matter of seconds, stretching so fast that the burning she felt was indescribable. But even worse than that was the feeling of impotence. No matter how hard she pushed, the leggings resisted and pushed back at her. She could feel the stretchy material pulling tighter and tighter around her hips as the head bulged out, farther, and farther. She could feel that she was close… But as the contraction ended after an eternity of pushing and screaming, her uterus eased, and she gagged, feeling nearly nauseous as she felt the head slowly pushed back in by her leggings.
"No! NO! OH GOD PLEASE NO!" She sobbed as she felt her progress lost just as quickly as it was made. More than ever, she wanted to pull the waistband down. As the head seemed to fully retreat, Liz sobbed. She had no choice. The leggings simply HAD to be removed. She slowly, SLOWLY lowered herself to the seat, shaking and nearly hyperventilating at the sensation. She knew the head had gone back in, but it felt like she was sitting on it. Liz panted as she grabbed at her waistband with shaking fingers. SHe had to move fast!
She had no more than started her work, when the next contraction ripped into her much, much faster than it should have. Elizabeth writhed, but found moving unbearable as the same, overwhelming push possessed her again and drove the head down.
"OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODDDDDDD! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Elizabeth could feel the head grinding down, crushing her perineum flat against the seat as she squirmed, trying to make room. The sensation of sitting on the head grew worse, and she bucked, trying to get enough leverage with her legs to lift herself. The feeling of her legs moving even a fraction of an inch tighter made everything worse, and she felt her body sag back down, her womb reacting violently to the sudden push against her efforts and drove down harder. Howling, Liz made one final attempt to shove her leggings down, but abandoned it quickly and scrabbled for the console, trying to heave herself up once again. Before she could, the contraction faded as soon as it had arrived, and she collapsed, sobbing. The pain from that single contraction had been worse than the rest of her labor combined. She would rather go through another twenty hours of her earlier contractions than suffer another one like that. Liz could barely see through the tears, but she didn't need to in order to find the console with her right hand and push herself back upright. Her shoulders burned and were stiff from the effort, but she had no other options. She was still sobbing when the next contraction took her, no more than thirty seconds after the last one. She pushed furiously along, or tried to add her conscious effort to the tidal wave of a push that ripped through her, as she felt the head blasting down yet again, slowing as it stretched the material of her leggings. She grit her teeth so hard her head was trembling at her efforts while she pushed. She put so much effort into the push that she couldn't even breathe. When the contraction finally let up, she was seeing stars from not breathing for so long, the baby kicking in protest at the lack of oxygen. The frantic thrashing in her belly made all the worse from how sore it was from all of her contractions. But her silence had let her hear something glorious. As the head slowly retreated, pushed along by her leggings, she could hear strands snapping. Only a few at first, but soon she could hear the sound of dozens of strands popping and failing.
"One… more…. HHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Liz screamed as the next contraction drove into her like a truck.
The head, which had only barely begun to retreat was thrust forward again. This time, she could feel the head shoved forwards with the contraction, the head pushing through to a full crown in seconds. Up until that point, Elizabeth had assumed that the contraction she had spent half collapsed while she fought her leggings was the most painful thing she could have experienced. She was wrong. The head sat, keeping her lips open wide.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE! GET….. OUUUUUUUUUUUTTTTTTTTTTT!" She bellowed, and her hips bucked, The motion was so violent, she felt her belly collide with the steering wheel, and she nearly let go with one hand to clutch at the impact, only keeping her upright position by the barest remaining will she had left. As she thrashed, she felt the head, mercifully, burst through, soaking her leggings with a small flood of fluids from her vagina.
"Oh my god! Oh…. ohhhhhhhhh. Oh my baby," She wept, shuddering as she felt the body turning inside her own. The next contraction seemed to lack the sheer intensity and power of the last few she had felt, but it still shoved the rest of the baby out, and as soon as she felt the legs come free, she collapsed, sitting in a puddle of her own fluids as she frantically pulled the waistband down, pulling her baby free.
"I got you… I got you baby… oh my baby…" Liz cried as she held her son for the first time.
"Battery at seventy-five percent. LockDown! can be manually disengaged."
Elizabeth had spent the last ten minutes doing her best to clean and cover her baby, feeding him as she looked for something to tie off the umbilical cord. Once she had done so, and hit the manual override on the protection feature she swore never to use again, she rubbed her arm against the window. The first faint light of dawn was starting to turn the sky from a solid black to a faint gray. The lights were still on in the parking lot of the service station, showing it to be as empty as it had been when she arrived. No wolves. Cautiously, Elizabeth opened her door, listening carefully for the sound of anything moving. Not hearing a single thing other than the constant chirping of crickets, she slowly hobbled around the car, clutching her baby to her chest with one arm. Her legs felt rubbery as she nearly collapsed against the car as she unplugged it and, lacking the willpower to recoil the cable, simply let the plug fall to the ground. Turning, Liz limped back to the driver's seat and closed the door, still sitting in the puddle she had made, and pushed the power button.
"Accel, continue to… What hospital were we headed for?"
"Adam's Memorial Hospital was the previous logged destination. Would you like to continue?"
"Yes," Liz said, feeling relief in her chest, "And please use fragile mode."
"Understood, fragile mode engaged."
Liz barely paid attention to the world outside as she looked down into the face of her perfect baby boy as the car drove her to the hospital.
"I guess this thing isn't all that bad," She muttered to herself as she began to doze off.
Pregnant woman having been in labor for hours pushing as hard as she can until the head pokes through her stretched out cunt in a crown. She pauses to catch her breath and that’s when you make your move. You trace her taut pussy lips where they pull back over the wet skull of her baby. She recoils in surprise at the sudden touch but you don't stop there. You cup your palm over the head and push. She howls in pain at what you are doing to her. Her cunt flutter, pussy lips flap uselessly around your wrist. The head sinks deeper into her pussy and you continue to thrust it back even as you feel her birth canal flutter around your forearm trying to push back against the baby you are driving into her uterus. She clutches her belly and presses down on her stomach trying to keep the baby from being rammed back into her womb. It's almost impressive enough for you to stop. She must really want this baby out of her. Not to worry. Once your cupped hand breaches her uterus and you feel the dilated band of her cervix around your wrist, you let go of the head. She gasps when you open your hand inside her womb, groaning as you feel around. You root around in her uterus blindly, poking and jabbing the stretched thin walls of her stuffed uters and grinding into her slack cervix. The baby also flutters around and you watch the horror and pain on her face at the sensations in her belly and the lumps and movement showing through her belly. Finally, the baby kicks your hand and you grab the leg and pull gently. She's screaming again, her eyes wide in terror as her oblong torpedo belly morphs, stretching her overtaxed womb sideways. You pause and give her a moment to bask in the pain. She hesitantly touches the protruding sides of her belly, stretched wider than ever. She sobs in pain. You continue to pull the foot down and out her uterus, guiding it out of her pussy gently. As soon as you pull your fist out and let go, you smack the swollen underside of the fading woman's belly to get her attention. Push, you tell her. Her breath hitches at the odd sensation of a foot dangling from her puffy reddened pussy. She begs you in between broken sobs to just pull it all the way out of her. You ignore her and wait until she realizes you aren't going to do anything to help her birth the baby you repositioned into a footling breech. She screams at you, that you've made it too hard to birth now, that she doesn't know how to birth a baby foot first even as her body contracts like a vice to squeeze it out of her. You ignore her hysterical shrieking and watch the show. It's going to take hours to get the baby out, maybe even days. Her pussy spasms occasionally, forcing the baby out as far as it can. But it plunges back into her cunt as soon as the spasm passes. She reaches down to her vagina every few contractions as though she's going to try and pull her baby out herself. She never does. The pain of your pulling still hurting her birthing cunt.
oh the way she screams when i push on the baby's head a little too hard and feel it slipping in. the way she sobs that she's losing progress that she worked for for hours. the way she begs for mercy. it's music to my ears
Shark merman moaning and gripping his huge belly while his offspring thrash inside each uterine horn. Only the biggest and strongest sharkling on each side will survive until birth—they will each eat the other eggs and sharklings in their respective uterine horns, and when they each head for the birth canal they’ll fight to be born first. Spawning is dangerous for a shark merman and most who find themselves birthing alone will not survive the ordeal.
Sound waves travel far under water…you hear the screams of a laboring shark merman and swim to investigate. You find him crying and struggling to crown both heads at once from his battered cloaca…
The long form adult video is a dying artform with cutthroat competition for advancement. The number of actresses willing to do day consuming sessions for a multi-hour long composition was dwindling alongside its consumer base. Such an industry relied on its young stars for more content, but amateurs were looked down on, unproven for the lack of chances and cannibalized by greedy directors..
If this adult video industry had any hope of competing it needed to get increasingly outlandish to compete with the volume produced on the internet. How could a format conceived during the time of VHS tapes ever compete with the modern day?
This was the responsibility for 19 year old Ami Takahashi who found herself on the casting couch just a couple months ago. She sat atop the stairs down into the studio with her brown plaid dress dawned with a pair of sunglasses and a face mask. Her large eyes and her clear skin with a body that had yet to fill out from her transition out of adolescence.
Such attire and location wouldn’t make her look out of place in the known red light district. This young woman had to make money however she could, yet, there was one deviation.
The young woman carried the entire weight of her belly on her lithe frame, tall and slender to fit the beauty standards of society around her with only one deviation. Her midsection distended grotesquely for a woman with her size and build.
Her round pushed unnaturally outwards from her, low and heavy between her hips. The side of her taut skin poked from behind her. And every step towards the studio from the train station was made with either a wrist against her lower back or her hands clasped under her stomach to contain the weight that ballooned over the last few weeks. She couldn’t conceptualize the fact that she still had 4 weeks to go.
Ami looked particularly out of place for both her age and her profession.
She had been feeling a sensation of a deep stir within. A pull that made her forget exactly where she was and pulled her towards her core like a black hole.
“Mmhaa…” she sighed. She scowled. It was as if the contraction caught a second wind.this new pain rang deeper into her, squeezing her uterus into a center that guided itself between her legs. Her hand caught the railing was the only thing that kept her upright as the brutal contraction finished it’s work on her body.
“...Ami?” she looked up to find a familiar face standing over her. She was one of the few people who could recognize him behind his censored face.. His handsome face was hidden by censorship so every surface of her growing body could be dissected and sexualized. His sweetness was always evident with the scenes they shot together, though their relationship was nothing beyond professional and human decency.
“Do you need help?” Kenji asked, extending his forearm. “Y-yeah…” she admitted, grabbing his arm and allowing herself to lean her pregnancy weight into him.Ami didn’t know how much longer she could work in this condition. She couldn’t even walk down stairs without assistance.
The two stars arrived at a room that was quickly being set up. It looked like Ami had graduated from the leather couch and onto a tacky bedroom with cheap sheets.
“Ami,” boomed the monotone voice of a wiry middle aged man. From the curtain of the shadows in the studio emerged Director Tonaka, the lead of the project that bore Ami’s name.
“You’re late.” He declared to the young mother to be. She was initially casted under the reference of an anonymous scouter, and by the time Tonaka contacted the young woman, she was already well into her pregnancy. Ami oozed with potential, raw and unrefined, shades that she failed to display in the previous scenes they had shot. She was significantly larger than the last time they had met. Concerningly, so…
“I’m sorry, director… I intended to come earlier. May I please discuss something with you?” `His arms were crossed with his glasses that hung low at the bridge of his nose. His judging eyes pierced her resolve.
“What is it?” He grumbled.
“It’s about my contract.”
“What about it?” The director asked, flipping the pages of his thick clipboard in anticipation of the impending shoot.
A pit of fear grew within her, as if she was placing her entire career on the line if she didn’t communicate her needs correctly. Her stomach stirred with activity, feeling their mothers worry. Ami gently stroked her stomach, trying to calm the child within. “I’m afraid that the end of my contract might be coming… Earlier than expected.”
“Earlier… Than expected? You are aware of all of the clauses of your contract, correct?”
“Y-yes. But… I don’t think I-… Will be available for another scene. I have to take leave after this shoot.” She pleaded.
Tonaka stared at her in silence, as if her request made her the unreasonable party. “The terms were well defined. Whether it’s two weeks, a day, or even a few hours from now you agreed . It’s my understanding that you signed off on this contract, did you not?””
The director wasn’t foolish. He wasn’t here to waste any second of the novelty of a star as young and willing to show off her fertility. Pregnancy and the mothers were temporary. He would do all he could to capitalize on every second of her pregnancy.
Ami swallowed and looked down. “Yes sir…” she yielded. She gently stroked her lower belly in anticipation of the long hours ahead.
The titular star was placed in the fabricated room. The scene landed her on warn sheets that complimented her apricot skin well. Front and center the scene would begin. She was modestly dressed for the camera, a plaid dress that may have fit well before her prenatal form with a white long sleeve. The same exact clothes she wore at the station.
Would a viewer recognize her? Would an old family friend remember the outfit as a part of Ami’s wardrobe?
When Ami stared at the black box those thoughts suffocated her. She could feel her chest pound at the thoughts of all the eyes that would see her in this temporary state, at this age, this deep into her pregnancy. She wanted more.
Kenji's entrance into the room was the beginning, even if he began as he did. Just a voice behind the camera.
“It’s nice to see you again, Ami.” With the cameras rolling Kenji was a completely different person. He was a mouthpiece for the director, and the stand-in host for all of the scenes they had shot together. The only person in the room.who showed any sympathy for her, imbued her with a sense of the moment for what it was. A performance.to be the person who would hold her in place.
“You’re in your 38th week now, right?”
“Yes sir.” She replied as her meek character
One of the interns that had been doing his math looked up to the director. “Is she really?”
“Only 34, but we can market her as further along” Director Tonaka hushed the lighting person.
Kenji finally appeared in frame, approaching the mother uncomfortably closely as per the script's instruction
“Just a couple more weeks from your due date, right? How do you feel”
The script forced a nervous chuckle out of her with baby doe eyes towards the camera. “I’m so scared. My baby has been getting so big…”
It was dull. She was dull. Ami was so sick of playing this character, following this script. The same format she had followed for three shoots already. So much had changed, her body, her mood, and feelings. Yet the things that Tonaka capitalized on were her intangibles. Her age, the assumed purity. If she could just have one second she could prove she could be so much more.
The interview went on, describing her tragic fake story of Ami being a high school drop out that had gotten impregnated and left by a scumbag at a party. That porn was her only outlet and that Ami was a poor, defenseless woman.
There were so many things that Ami wanted to say. There was nobody she could speak to about her pregnancy. A camera with eyes that looked directly into her.
And after Kenji asked the questions that made her look the most pathetic he finally stepped into frame. Even if his face was being censored, his presence imbued her with the willingness to submit.
“Enough talking. Let's see the belly of a 19 year old mother.”
Given her cue Ami began to undo the most intricate parts of her clothes, allowing her co-star for easy access to her growing body. “I can pop at any moment… Please be gentle.”
Her modest clothes were stripped from her. That maternity dress fit tightly around her midsection as it rode up her belly. To the surprise of all in the studio was another layer, a belly band to support her stomach’s weight.
Even her co-star took a second to realize how he would approach this scene.
Ami. who was already large now exploded out from her supportive band. Tonaka and the rest of the studio went wide eyed at the reveal. Ami let out a groan in discomfort as her belly’s weight hung unnaturally low. “Annhh~” escaped her lips, audible discomfort of her gravid shape. An unscripted sound.
“My god… You really are getting big.” Kenji said from between her slightly parted thighs.
“He’s been… Moving so much.” She had to pretend to act shy for the camera, but nothing could beat Kenji’s touch. His hands circled around her stomach, the fabricated violation of where she protected her baby.
Before Ami could get comfortable the pain binded her again. The camera caught her stomach shrinking from the middle of her body. The way Kenji’s hands pulled her skin changed as her distended midsection hardened like a rock, refusing to yield from her body. Ami turned towards the ceiling with labored breaths as nothing but the contraction filled her mind. The attention across her tight skin sent a tingling into her whole body that made her want to spread her legs. She sucked in air deeply and allowed her hips to roll as she tried to disperse the pressure. An intense contraction caught on film.
As she faced Kenji again he stood over her. Despite what her body was telling her, the scene had to keep on going.
With how green Ami was in the industry, getting to work with Kenji was a high point of it. His professionalism, his movements, the way his fingers read her and kept her comfortable picked up all of the slack that Ami had keeping herself ready to perform. His experienced hands circled her body, worked her sensitive areas with precision like a surgeon, not one wasted step
His fingers lingered and teased her inner thighs. The touch disappeared from the blindspots of her belly.
“Mnnnhhh!!” Ami gasped as Kenji’s fingers swiped across her slit. Ami’s tiny pussy was inflated with the pressure of carrying her massive bump, all of the nerve endings begging to be indulged. Wet his fingers against her bare opening as the camera focused on her crotch that she had failed to see in months.
Not far from now that camera would be focussed on her baby’s crowning head. He let Ami feel the pads of his fingers one more time before finding the space between her vulva, letting her brace herself. “Annhh~!” She gasped in a picturesque form, whining while she squirmed with the simple insertion of a finger.
Her entrance was clogged. The tip of his fingers touched a muscular wall that he had felt before that shocked Ami’s core like electricity that filled the room with a squeal. The muscular entrance of her uterine walls. Her cervix descended so greatly.
A throaty gasp as Ami's thighs clamped up Kenji's hand, denying access to his fingers any further and obscuring the sight of the camera.
The director scowled at her resistance. “Go again!” He demanded, calling a stop to the scene. Nothing would get in the way of his vision, not even Ami's urges to bear down to the pressure. She tried her best to ignore the tightening of her stomach as she spread her legs, and once again, Kenji fingered her.
“Mnnh!” She vocalized before stifling her moan. She rolled her hips to his digits parting her insides. At his distance, Kenji could see her massive belly begin to tighten and recede back into her before his very eyes. Heavy grunts came from deep within her chest. Her walls tightened with her contracting body, pushing the blockage he felt further out within her.
“Hah-... Ahhhh!” She acted moans through sensations she had never felt before as the entrance to her womb was invaded.
The buzz of a vibrator filled the room. Ami’s legs were thrown aside. She went to hold her breath. She had gotten so sensitive over the last couple of weeks she had no idea how long she could possibly last.
“MnnnHHH~!” For just one second Ami’s real voice came out, a loud groan in bliss that came deep from her chest. Kenji flicked his wrist away from her to recover. Hitting her pussy with the head of the vibrator so she could fake an orgasm to the camera.
“T-thank you…” Ami whispered.
“Stay strong.” Kenji replied
As more cameras and microphones were adjusted around him one camera was adjusted for a shoulder view of Ami as he counted her from between her legs. When they gave each other the signal Kenji lifted one of her legs, shifting Ami’s entire center of gravity and pulling the weight of her womb to one side of her body.
Ami’s naked lips were exposed to the camera, dripping from the light foreplay to her cumbersome body. His cock drew the lip of her muscular cervix. It was open, wide.
“Why don’t you go deeper?” Tonaka scolded, bringing his two stars to an immediate halt. He looked down at his junior who struggled to breathe and held her baby laden stomach protectively. Ami’s insides were descended, he was hitting something on his tip that sent powerful reactions into the heavily pregnant young mother.
“Director… I can’t.” He stated. As he opened his mouth to voice his concern towards Ami’s unborn child, Tonaka slammed against his clipboard. “Well, We need footage of a quality penetration. How do you two propose we could get that done?”
Ami struggled to get her heavy body upright onto the bed. She huffed at the weight of her body and the lingering sensations of their initial position. “I-I can get on top…”
“Ami…”
“It’s okay,” she reassured, still clearly shaken with a hand holding her stomach in place. “It felt a little weird on my side.”
Kenji sat on the edge of the bed and Ami sat on his lap, allowing his thighs to lay between her open legs. She grabbed his thick member between her legs and aimed it towards her swollen opening. After a breath, she lowered her hips.
“Ooooo-hhhhh!” she groaned as her body lowered. She could feel her pregnancy weight make him shutter as he pressed deep into her heavily dilated cervix. After a few deep breaths Ami began to move.
The weight of her belly slammed against him. As she opened her legs she could feel her pelvis open, the weight of her child barrelling down after every bounce. Something round and heavy sandwiched his penis against the rigid walls of her amateur pussy.
“MnH!” She gasped, silencing herself with her palm. Her eyes grew wide as muffled cries escaped from the gaps between her fingers. Her belly began to tighten again from on top of her co-star. This contraction was not minutes after the last one.
“Oh god…” Ami thought.
It was hitting her womb. Every time she descended onto him Ami could feel the weight of her belly shoot back into her body. His member penetrated her between the dilated opening of her cervix. The flexible membrane that separated her baby from the head of her costar’s penis.
As their pace ramped up the familiar tension returned at the worst possible time. In her upright position her baby pulled to the floor with gravity. This contraction was different. Like dozens of hands simultaneously crushing her pregnant belly directly on top of Kenji.
Staring into the camera grounded her. Ami stared deep into the lens as she was railed senseless for the viewer to see. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she panted with Kenji’s thrusting hips. The heavy abuse of her pregnant body for the world to see.
She arched her back as well as she could, impaling herself against him with her legs wide open“I’m cumming! I’m cumming-I’m cumming-I’m-!!!”
Her hips were out of control. Every bounce shook her belly and rattled her womb.
“Mmh-” Kenji let a quick grunt slip as the weight of her occupied belly flattened his cockA membrane enveloped Kenji’s head. The feeling of hot waters surrounded him tightly as she worked desperately into him.
“Mnnh-Mnnhh-OhhH!!!” from between her opened thighs fluids exploded from around the member inside of her, shooting waters around their sandwiched hips as the scene ended in dramatic climax.
The director didn’t appreciate improvisation… But the results spoke for themselves. Ami was assisted off of Kenji’s lap. Before the camera could focus on her naked pussy a mixture of cum and fluids continued to cascade out of her as the young mother was laid to rest on the cold, tile floor.”
“Okay everybody. Let’s clean up this scene. We don’t have a lot of time until-”
“UNNNGGGHHHH!!”
Ami cried against the tile floor. She clenched her stomach as she pleaded for the pains to stop, immobilized by the pains that only ramped up through the course of the shoot. They had gotten closer and closer, and now, Ami got no respite as they assaulted Ami’s womb without rest.
“Director, she was having contractions throughout the whole last scene.” Ami laid in a pool of her amniotic fluids.
“Nobody touch her!” The director snapped. Kenji took a step back, powerless against the director's creative mind. And if there was any creative liberty Tonaka would allow, it was the pure expression of childbirth.
“Eh?” Ami watched as the entire crew collectively created more distance from the young laboring mother.
“Somebody help me!” She pleaded. She looked for anybody, an intern, an assistant, a midwife on set. Her greatest anxieties came true when nobody refused to step forward. She was going to give birth alone.
Panic began to set in for the young mother as she was stared at by everybody in the room. . The director signaled for the cameras to turn on once again.
It was as if the events over the last couple years of her life were finally realized. She was heavily pregnant and in labor, being filmed giving birth after fucking a stranger for money. And while she gave birth, his cum was still between her legs. Her shame was nowhere to be hidden, the camera the very moment it occurred to Ami, not the amateur pornstar, but the woman
“UHHHNNNNNGGGG!” She groaned. Ami felt the roundness of her baby’s head barrel down into her cervix. Her baby traveled down her birth canal, the walls that had just been fucked mere minutes ago.
The contractions were unforgiving now. Deep in her womb was a pressure that demanded every ounce of attention. Every breath during their apex was a battle that she couldn’t lose unless she wanted to pass out. The uncontrollable urge to push.
“I can’t believe we’re recording this…”
“Can we really distribute this?”
The pressure coned between Ami’s legs. She couldn’t act in any way to disprove the judgement. She couldn’t act while giving birth. “IT BURNS!!” she cried as that sliver of hair grew no larger than the width of an egg.
Ami collapsed in exhaustion, flat on her back, nude against the white tile. Her own discharge smeared against her baby’s head as it made its crawling exit from her. The pain of such a large thing spreading her open only turned her on more. The crew watched as Ami’s pussy was forever stretched by the girth of her infant’s head.
Yet as she writhed on the floor the crew could only agree in silence as Ami’s attitude shifted before their very eyes. The corners of her lips curled. Ami’s moans and grunts grew more sensual as she felt the intensity of childbirth inside of her.
Her hips spun with more passion than she had ever shown in the scenes before. Her hands were magnets to her body like a narcissistic nymphomaniac, only accentuating the body she shared with her unborn child more. She was a pregnant pornstar. And as her baby barrelled down her pussy, and that little slit grew around her childs head
Kenji could only turn to the director as he put his clothes back on. “Is she… turned on?”. His judging eyes flushed against her birthing body.
“How couldn’t I be?!” Ami thought.
The room was flooded with the smell of sex, hers and hundreds of stars before her. The exhilaration of her baby quickly descending down her birth canal. The widest section of her baby’s head spread her vagina open more than anything she had ever experienced.
Behind all that red light and the eye of the camera was the footage of herself. Her reputation. Her life. She was just a teenager, and before all of the watching eyes that this film would find, she was about to become a mother.
The young woman reached past her massive stomach and finally got to touch her naked, puffy lips for herself. Right at the very tips of her fingers she could feel what burned her open as she stretched. If she pushed any harder, would the baby go back into her?
The thoughts excited her body as she clumsily reached to pleasure herself.It didn’t take long to find her hard clit, and when she did she let her fingers roll over her outstretched button of nerves.
“Ouuunnnhhh-Ah!!” She groaned as she pleasured herself to her baby stretching her entrance. The sensations of the contractions and masturbation clouded her mind
“Nnnngggg-Nnnggghh.Oooohhh!!!” She groaned. Ami’s eyes shot open as the contraction seized her body. The young woman lifted one of her knees to her chest and bore down to meet the intensity of her body’s instincts.
“OUUUUGGGGHHHH!” She strained with clenched teeth. Ami’s inner thighs trembled a her vulva stretched to their capacity around the widest part of the head. The muscles of her midsection contorted in all shapes and sizes. The deadlock of her baby’s head ended as Ami’s eyes shot into the back of her head.
“ANH~!” she gasped sharply. The head popped free from her with more fluids emptying onto the floor.
Ami’s cunt was spread open by the one that spread her legs. The embarrassment of having her every gasp captured. Her deep guttural grunts as her baby forced apart her young holes. Her heart pounded with exhilaration, a feeling that perhaps no other woman in history could lay claim to.
Her inhibitions faded as the urgency of childbirth invaded her brain. Her heart pounded as her body was consumed by something she could never experience with any toy or lover. She was creating life. Ami was giving birth for the camera.
“UNNNNGGGHHHH!!!” The shoulders came free as the rest of the body slid out from her.
Ami’s child was born into the world on the cold tile of a porn studio. The crew could only stare at Ami as she stirred deliriously while sprawled out across the floor with a soaked infant sat between Ami’s still large and very round stomach.
As the new mother recovered it was as if she had just seen color for the first time. Her young mind was shaped from the life threatening intensity of birthing her child to a crowd. She wanted nothing more than to do it all over again.
Director Tonaka could only cover his mouth, trying to process exactly what he caught on camera. He thought of all of the descriptions he could use to pitch the tape. If he wanted to capitalize on this scene at all, he had to move quickly. Before Ami could review, let alone dispute the footage.
“Cut!” Tonaka announced to the room, facilitating the immediate end to the recording. The urgency in his voice made the whole crew shutter. “Everybody, let's wrap up.”
Flooded with the maternal hormones in her head, Ami could hardly process the deconstruction of the cameras around her. The experience left her dissatisfied. A knot that built within her chest. Slowly, Ami’s forehead scrunched, as another squeeze against her sides took her breath away. She instinctively stroked her stomach, still large enough to draw a round outline of her belly. “O-ow…” she strained, gasping over the pressure that came over her.
Nobody paid the new mother any mind as she was bound to the floor. Nobody looked in her direction, nobody cared for the nude mother caught in the center of the room with a cold newborn clutched to her breast.
“W-wait…” Her vision became foggy. “Something… ahhhhhnnn.. Something- Ohhhh.” She moaned. Kenji caught her gaze. As Ami’s co-star attempted to speak to the mother, his arm was caught by the director.
“All requirements of your contract have been met. Out of respect for you and your child, we will take our leave.” Director Tonaka said, throwing his coat over his shoulder. He placed his hands on Kenji’s back, guiding the reluctant man away from Ami and out the door of the studio.
“This room has been rented for another half an hour, please leave before then.” He instructed. He disappeared behind the door, leaving the room with only the wails of her newborn and her tightening breath.
“O-ohhh!” She moaned again as she felt her stomach tighten. The pains were far too strong to just be the placenta. As she looked down at her slightly shrunken belly and her suspicions were confirmed with more movements stirring below her belly button
“There’s another baby…” she mumbled in disbelief. She was going to be a 19 year old with twins.
She labored on the cold hard floor. The labor was immediately more difficult than the birth of her first child. The progress crawled. The difficulty of her baby dragging against the walls of her uterus. She was going to feel the sensations again.
“A-ah!” she went to go catch herself, but her eyes grew wide. Nobody was there to control her. She could make all the sounds she wanted. The onset of the second birth was over the horizon, but something was missing.
She wanted to be watched!
In the spur of the moment she clambered towards the pocket of the clothes that were stripped from her and propped up her phone to the leg of the bed frame
Viewers who discovered this phone video were to be greeted with the bizarre sight. Ami sat on the cold floor, still marked by the fluids from her previous voice. She was still naked, but still clearly pregnant, while already holding a child that remained connected to her.
“H-hello everybody…” She greeted. A long silence braced the screen before she spoke again. “My name is Ami Takahashi. I… Filmed a porno earlier today where I had sex and gave birth to my first baby.” The thoughts came into her head as she spoke.
“There… Are some truths in that series. I am 19 and my parents disowned me. But there is fiction too. I’m only 34 weeks pregnant, my doctor told me my cervix was opening from all of the sex scenes I was shooting. I wasn’t listening, I didn’t even know I was having twins, but I still came in to get fucked while I was having constant contractions for days!” The admission made her heart race.
“And! I’m not a college student. I dropped out of school to live with my boyfriend who shares me with all of his friends. I-huf… Still… don’t know who the father is.” Her legs instinctually spread as the pain squeezed the last of her breath
“Fuck…” Ami cursed as she bit her lip, her heart was pounding! Unable to halt the indifferent force of her body attempting to bring Ami’s second child into the world, the pain ramped up.
As she turned around to her hands and knees. She recorded herself doggy style, capturing her belly and the mess of her pussy from behind. Her lips were drenched, red, and swollen beyond belief, with an umbilical cord that still connected her firstborn to her.
This time, the sensation of labor was different. There wasn’t an unyielding weight and pressure that barreled down her birth canal, stretching her cervix in the process. No, there was more movement and little parts that poked from her. Little kicks against her cervix that sent lightning bolts of pain like Kenji had fucked into her.
With her ass in the air she spread her legs to accommodate the pressure quickly descending down into her hips. What slowly spread her cervix was even wider than the first head. “Unnngggghh!!!” Ami struggled. This progress was even slower, parts of her baby being squeezed against the walls of her sensitive uterus.
“AHH~!” Ami screamed as the pressure built up. The slightest amount of pain freeing itself from her and into her birth canal. She could feel her lips parting slightly. She stared between her legs to the camera and what she saw made her eyes grow wide. A little foot hung free from her vagina.
Her baby was being born backwards.
The 19 year old mother felt the intoxicating panic of childbirth descend over her once again. Her strained body tightened at the baby’s smallest lips as she was forced to deliver her child’s little legs first. “Mnnhhh!” She moaned, the size of her baby’s feet reminded her of the size of Kenji’s fingers.
“Haa… Haahhh-hooooo!” Ami moaned, arching her back. From the quick descent of her baby, little limbs that poked free from her. The other leg came free and Ami was halted on little gasps. She recognized the width of a hip that spread her wide and spread her legs even further.
“Hoo… Hoo… Nggggghhhhuuuu!” She groaned as she felt the baby’s thighs and butt emerging from her vagina. Her pants eased the end of the contraction while the hips emerged to stretch her in new, exciting ways
With every exhale she could feel the baby’s wet body begin to slide towards her opening. Ami’s body ached as her needy clit demanded attention. The vibrator used for her scene was still in arms reach.
She jacked up the wand until it hurt to hold and propped against her body. She could feel the tip of the vibrator against her baby's chest, buzzing the infant as well. “Ouuughhh!” she gurgled . “Sorry baby… It just feels so good.” Ami apologized to her unborn child.
As her hips buzzed with the intensity of the vibrator she could feel more of the younger sibling’s torso being born from her. Her opening clung to every detail of her child. But, she wasn’t done. Ami needed more. “It’s going too quickly… I need to cum… I need to cum!!” She begged as the body started to follow the legs quickly.
Her breaths began to quiver while she edged herself in childbirth. But now, her body was too good at giving birth. The climb towards her orgasmic high would be prematurely ended from the delivery of her child. She wasn’t going to finish before the head was out.
Ami panted in desperation. The twin mother’s shaky legs spread as she viewed herself from behind against her camera. Her daughter’s body had been born up to her ribs. She aligned her partially born child upright between her legs and sunk her breech child directly back into her birth canal.
“OUUUNNNGGHGHHH!!!” she groaned with a depraved shutter. The infant's legs kicked from beneath her. The flailing limbs punished the mothers delicate areas showing signs of lively activity.
With heavy heaves she stared at herself on her phone. Her pussy swallowed her child back into her. Shame clouded her childbirth as she gave into her hedonistic urge to use her daughter's body like a sex toy. All of the progress was undone. Her contractions and abdomen ripping pushes went to waste.
“I’m so sorry baby…” Ami slurred. Her hips grinded, feeling the wonderful size of the fetus she had gestated. The thought of this child being any bigger drove her wild. “You’re making me feel so good.” The head of the vibrator was glued to her clit, it even touched the baby’s body as she redied herself for the torso to exit her a final time.
“I'm a sick bitch, I'm sick, I’m… So… SICK!!!” She pushed while riding the baby’s body gently back into her. As she felt her orgasm build from deep within her hormonal body Ami lifted her hips, feeling her pussy finally yield to childbirth.
Her pussy twitched around the baby’s body as more and more of its body appeared from her. In the intensity, an elbow popped free, then, a wrist.
“Unnnnnggghhh!!! Hoooo!!” She pushed and another arm fell free from her breech birth. Thick fluids oozing down her daughter's body.
“S-shit… I’m gonna cum… The head, holy fUCK THE HEAD!!”She announced with hysterical giggles.
“I’m gonna cum giving birth!” She stared at her baby’s dangling body where she stared at her phone camera. She imagined her phone to be the watching eyes of somebody equally as excited to watch her erotic birth.
“Cum for me…! Cum with my baby!” She begged the camera as her hips gyrated for the final contraction. Ami felt the characteristic bind of her womb. She was grinding against the vibrator, grunting for her climax.
“Nnnggh-! Nnngghh-!! OooOOOHHH!!!!!!”Ami’s vocal chords shrilled into a scream that filled the acoustic walls of the porn studio as the combination of her child birth and the vibrator brought her to toe curling elation.
Her hips recoiled like a shotgun blast as the breech head violently ejected from her tight pussy. The rest of the body slapped against the floor with a wet collision. Immediately, the room filled with the healthy wails of Ami’s baby girl.
She looked down at her appropriately deflated stomach until she was sure there was no surprise triplet waiting for her. And with two infants in hand she stopped the recording.
With the footage on her phone she wondered if maybe, just maybe this video would become larger than the footage that Director Tonaka had captured of her.
“There was only one way to tell.” She thought to herself as she smiled down at her phone. In just a moment, the footage of Ami giving birth was released, free for the entire world to see.
Imagine you're a servant turned Concubine for the King. You've grown impossibly large with his baby to the point that even walking causes sharp strikes of pain to stab into your lower half. You were sure you would go into labor soon, what with the periodic contractions and lowering bump. But labor, as frightening as it was for you to thinking about dropping such a big baby, was not your concern now.
It was the king and his appetite for you. He loomed over you in your servants quarters, letting his hands freely glide over your stomach and engorged tits. His trousers were dramatically tented outward, ready to indulge.
"Please," you whimper, with both hands beneath your over taxed belly. "I'm getting too many contractions now."
The King's gaze burnt through you. He drew the tarp like sleepshirt you wore over your giant bump, exposing the low hanging mass of flesh you carried on you. It was painfully lopsided now, one side of your underbelly was visibly rounded out while the top of your belly. The royal physician couldn't tell if you baby was massive or if you just had two very large twins. You didn't want to entertain either idea.
The king looked at your bump lustfully, drinking in the product of his work with pride. The drawn tight belly button, the deeply grooved stretchmarks, the way it made your body look dwarfed. He loved it.
"A good manservant serves his king. Do I need to remind you what your purpose is here? The consequences of not doing your duty?"
You hesitate, then shake your head.
"Good. Turn around."
Slowly, you turn your back to your king and in an instant his palm collides with your back, forcing you face first into your bed. The weight of your free hanging belly being drawn down makes your back protest, but there was no break between that and the king driving his cock into your pussy. There was no slow build up or foreplay, his pace was vervent and hungry like starving beast. Your small room was filled with the cries the King enjoyed hearing so much from his concubines in this state of pregnancy.
Your cervix, already straining to keep your waters and heavy headed baby in, is bludgeoned by the kings cock. Even, small streams of fluid dripped between your thighs from your water bag. The king grips your shoulders and pulls you back up to standing, making the weight of your babe fall back into your hips and further into the collision of his thrusts.
"You're so wet for me, gods above." The king whispered beneath your cries.
Sputtering gasps escape your throat with each strong thrust. More of your water bag began to split. He was gonna break them and when he did you weren't sure he would stop. The king was a man possessed. The pressure behind your abused cervix builds to a sickening height, your belly straines around your womb, outlining your huge cargo.
"I-its happening, s-stop my king!" You shriek.
The king only answers your plea with a low grumble of desire. And it's already too late. A burst of fluid shoots out of your filled pussy, sending your body into a fit of spasms. And to your horror and expectation, the king does not stop.
((Holy shit this is driving me INSANE (and warning for continued non-con + fetal ejection))
I lost count of how many times I screamed that the babe needed to come, that he was hurting me, that I was pushing. Nothing could slow him down. My body was desperate to bring new life into the world but the process was blocked by his lust and desire to feel my contractions squeeze his heavy cock.
People stopped to listen when they passed the servants quarters. The rapid clapping of skin hitting skin and the anguish of childbirth was clear and those who dropped babes before were sympathetic, but could offer no help.
The bulges of his burden's body beneath my skin grew more pronounced as a contraction took hold and kept building and building. It didn't stop like the rest of them and neither did the urge to push. My hand flew down to cup a mound that stuck out under my belly button. Something wasn't right.
"M-my-my king–" I was his thrusts, the endless contraction, and the desperate need to birth his child "–something... something's wrong–AUGH!"
He threw me onto my side and yanked my leg up until it was next to my face that was wet and puffy from crying while he drilled into my hole. The contraction must've been putting insane amounts of pressure on his cock as the walls while the walls of my pussy constricted his swollen member because he went faster and harder, but I couldn't even cry anymore. Being on my side with my leg in the position it was in now, all I could do was PUSH.
He looked down with pride at the muscles and veins in my neck bulging and trembling with effort, my belly bulging with the huge babies he pounded into me as the overwhelming contraction caused it to jump repeatedly as it couldn't shrink any more than it had, and my bruised, pulsating pussy that would soon be full of his heir.
A huge, calloused hand latched on to a bulge in my middle and he leaned in, pressing more of his weight onto my heavily laboring body. I twisted and writhed and my eyes rolled back as he finished with his hardest thrusts. And to top it off, he pressed a big, warm thumb onto my enlarged clit and that was all it took to tip me over the edge.
We both screamed and howled with our orgasms. My pussy spasms and the contraction milking his cock for everything he had. This was the most I'd ever felt him pump into me and I could feel the warmth of his cum leaking out of my hole around his dick, as I was too full with baby for it to occupy my pussy. The contraction wwould've pushed the rest of it out with the head anyway.
He went limp and yanked himself out roughly, water rushing out along with him. I yelped at the sudden emptiness but within seconds, my birth canal was refilled by a huge baby. I could finally give into the desperate urge to deliver as he watched panting with heavy eyelids while I struggled.
"Push!" His voice boomed but he didn't have to tell me. Despite the size of the baby, it came flying out within a single push, gushing water all over it's father in front of me and almost landing in his lap.
My eyes rolled back and my body gave me no time to prepare for the second. It was larger but came just as fast. I shook and screeched as the child passed quickly with another burst of fluid, landing right next to it's sibling. The relief I felt was instant and the endless contraction dwindled down to a mere ache as I cried along with the babies that were now attached to me with cords that needed to be cut.
The king chuckled cruelly as he lifted both babies in his hands, smiling at the weight. "Two big healthy sons. Look what you gave me, my boy."
He shoved them both onto my chest and I scrambled to hold them in my arms. He leaned in and kissed me. When I didn't return it, he pulled back looking angry. "What? Without me you'd have been pushing for days on those heads."
As much as I hated to admit it, there was a silver lining to being fucked hard through labor. Instead of the slow agony of pushing on two babies that would've gotten stuck at multiple points, they came in less than a minute after the father pulled out of my overstimulated pussy.
"Say thank you." He demanded in a tone that frightened me.
"Thank you, my king."
And when he leaned in for another kiss, I returned it no matter how gross I felt after everything I'd been through in the past hour. I only felt a hint of lust, of something more when he deepened it, but I knew it was just post-birth hormones.
Speaking of post-birth, I felt my uterus cramp again as it began to pass the after birth. I flinched when I felt him touch my stomach and gently rub where his babies protruded out of me.
"I will breed you again in two month's time and the next will be bigger. Do you understand?"
My voice cracked and I choked down a rock in my throat at the thought of going through this again. "Yes, my king."
“Of course, Masie had complete trust in her friend. Erin was just as nervous and excited as the mother-to-be, watching Masie waddle around her flat like a ticking time bomb. She couldn't have known the plans Erin was making. The depth of the fantasies she had. And now, this. A once in a lifetime opportunity with her utterly trusting best friend, who had become so beautiful, so sexy through her pregnancy. It was impossible to resist.”
A birth story co-written with @toomuchbirth [fpreg, birth kink, non-con themes. 6k words]
Erin and Masie had been friends for too many years to count. Too many nights out, holidays, break-ups, career changes, they’d been through it all together. Somewhere along the lines over the many years of friendship, each had confessed a curiosity, a fascination with pregnancy and birth. It wasn’t strange or unusual to them - the female body was capable of such incredible things, of creating and bringing life! Their interest was taken to another level when Masie fell pregnant after a holiday romance.
Erin had been amazing throughout the entire pregnancy - standing in for the would-be father at all appointments, antenatal classes, buying any unusual food she craved no matter the time of day. Whatever Masie needed, Erin would be there. Best friends, and now, soon to be parents.
When it came to the actual birth they had discussed all manner of options; hospital, maternity centre, home birth with midwives… so many options. Erin was more into the natural side of things, home births or even free-births, advocating how much better they were for both mum and baby. Given all that her best friend had done to support her during this pregnancy, Masie was easily persuaded into having a more relaxed and natural birth.
Masie was excited to experience first hand what it would be like to be in labour, to feel her body doing something so ancient and natural. She had felt all the subtle changes over the last few weeks of her pregnancy; the braxton hicks, the increased weight in her pelvis, the baby’s head burrowing down, getting into position. There was a wonderful mix of excitement and nervous anticipation about what was to come. Erin had been researching everything since the day Masie peed on a stick, and now her best friend was a self-educated expert in all things pregnancy. Which was a good thing since the pregnancy hormones seemed to make Masie awfully forgetful and unable to take onboard lots of new information.
Of course, Masie had complete trust in her friend. Erin was just as nervous and excited as the mother-to-be, watching Masie waddle around her flat like a ticking time bomb. She couldn't have known the plans Erin was making. The depth of the fantasies she had. And now, this. A once in a lifetime opportunity with her utterly trusting best friend, who had become so beautiful, so sexy through her pregnancy. It was impossible to resist.
The Braxton Hicks began to change. Get sharper, more noticeable. Erin had began staying the night, making sure that whenever it happened, wherever, she'd be right there, ready to help. And to enjoy.
It was so easy to be reassuring. Labor can take over a day, she soothed the soon-to-be mother each time she expressed anxiety about the increasingly frequent cramps. Erin timed each and every contraction, trying to keep the eager grin off her face as the time between dropped lower than a half an hour… lower than twenty minutes…
“Oooohhhh… Erin…..” Masie hummed softly, leaning against the kitchen counter and swaying her hips. “Do you think… these might be the real thing…?”
They were going about their day as normal, after a disturbed night of cramps and twinges that gradually had gotten worse. Luckily Erin had stayed over again and helped her through the uncomfortable night. It was now lunchtime, Masie pottering around her small kitchenette trying to find something to eat when another cramp rolled through her body. Erin was fast to her side, rubbing her back and helping her to breathe through the wave.
“Mmm…. these can’t be just braxtons any-anymore…” she said with a groan after the tightening peaked and began to ebb away.
“It seems to be getting serious…” Erin said calmly, gently, stroking her friends back and feeling her muscles clamping down. Every contraction had been carefully monitored, and the eager woman knew her best friend was entering transition.
Erin found herself aching just watching Masie tense up. Feeling her back pulling, body straining subtly, looking at the little number on her phone that read “eight minutes!” It was really happening… there was no going back.
“Hey… you know, Maise. With the contractions so far apart, have you thought maybe walking around would help? We could look at some last minute supplies at the store, try to find some stuff to make this a bit easier, help you feel more comfortable. And the gravity might make this speed up. Does that sound good?”
“Ooof— go out? Um….” Masie wasn’t sure. Before the contractions started the idea of being out in nature, attuning to the elements felt like a good thing. But now, the way her body felt so stretched and full, hours and hours of these consistent cramps… Masie was reconsidering her previous plan.
But then Erin had made a good point - that moving would help speed things up. Perhaps she should give it a go. She would have her best friend at her side, who had studied all about labour and childbirth in preparation for the pair to do this alone. Erin would know when it would be time to come back home to deliver the baby.
“Okay… if you think it’ll help. Should we… check my dilation before we go…? Just in case?”
“If you want.” Erin smiled, kneeling in front of her friend. Carefully, she lifted her friend’s skirt, and tugged the hem of her panties aside.
It would be the first time she’d be actually checking anyone’s dilation, getting to feel first hand the results of all those contractions. Masie was swollen and sensitive, her breath hitching as Erin’s fingers got closer. Blushing, Erin reminded herself that she had a job to do. Granted, she planned to do that job badly…
Carefully, slowly, she began to push two fingers inside of her laboring friend. The poor thing shuddered, let herself lean back, her fingers curling in Erin’s hair. Her fingers pushed deeper, deeper, she could feel the tension building inside of Masie.
Just as she reached the soon-to-be-mother’s cervix, she suddenly grunted and tensed. Erin bit back a moan, feeling her friend’s body clamping around her probing fingers. She felt her cervix, straining, pulling open. It already was so spread, further than she’d thought. Seven centimetres dilated already.
“That’s ok… let it out… I’m right here…” Erin purred, savoring the sounds and trembles running through her friend. “I know it hurts, but you don't have to be scared… you got a long while to go, you’re maybe four and half… five? I know it’s getting intense, but we’ve got plenty of time…”
Masie’s hands gripped both the kitchen countertop and Erin’s left shoulder as the contraction steadily increased. Tighter and tighter, muscles squeezing, drawing out a low hum from the pit of her chest. When it was over Erin removed her fingers, gently rubbing her palm up and down the outside of Masie’s thigh whispering encouraging affirmations.
“Thank you… hoooo… I can’t believe I’m barely half way there.” Masie softly said, her hands naturally moving over her dress to cradle the underside of her belly that somehow still felt taught. “We’re definitely going for that walk, let’s see if we can bring bubs lower and on her way.”
Masie didn’t bother getting changed to go out, but she did nip to the bathroom to freshen up. Riding out at least two more contractions by the sink. Erin was distracted, busy packing a bag for their outing. Masie would have questioned it but her mind kept getting pulled back to focus on her body with each frequent tightening of her womb. Eventually both friends were all set and Erin helped Masie waddle to the door of her apartment and out onto the street.
Each contraction was getting a tiny bit closer, and Erin could see that they were only getting more intense. Maise would stop for a few moments, eyes closed, making herself breathe steadily as her womb clamped down around the soon-to-emerge baby.
Slowly, steadily, Erin steered her best friend toward the park, holding her hand, reassuring her during contractions. Every time one ended, Maise would look to her birthing partner expectantly, and she would say how far apart the contractions were.
Or, at least, that is what the increasingly overwhelmed woman thought was happening. In reality, each lie, reassuring Maise that the contractions were still a good ten minutes apart, only made Erin more excited, more eager. It felt so good, looking at her timer and seeing “4 minutes” then “3 minutes” and smiling, telling her friend “you’ve got a good while to go, you’re probably still 5 cm still.”
All the while, she was savoring every whimper and moan that slipped from the laboring woman’s throat, the way her belly was visibly shrinking even under her dress, how she would whisper that it felt like the baby could just fall out, no idea how close she truly was…
It was getting harder and harder to walk normally, every step Masie took only served to compound the pressure between her hips. It felt like she was carrying a boulder in her pelvis; solid, round and nauseatingly heavy. Every time a new contraction arrived Masie would either brace against something nearby or use her friend as support. Her legs twitching wider and wider beneath her dress, hips rocking forward and back instinctively. Then, after it passed, Erin would lead her further around the park. It was important to keep moving apparently, to keep the momentum going and use gravity as much as possible.
Gravity was certainly doing its thing. Masie’s hand never left the underside of her belly, as if it needed physically holding up with how much pressure was squeezing through her uterus. It was painful, yes, but there was an ancient power pulsing through her veins - a process so natural and instinctual. Women had been giving birth since the dawn of time and now, Masie would truly know what that was like.
Her waters hadn’t broken yet, so she had no reason to doubt Erin’s guidance. Trusting completely in her best friend. They would simply walk around the park a little bit, and when the time got closer they would go back to Masie’s apartment for their home birth. That was the plan.
But the next contraction snuck up on her, the strongest yet, and Masie’s knees nearly buckled. She doubled over into Erin’s arms, panting as the muscles in her womb squeezed aggressively.
Erin bit her lip, seeing her beautiful friend struggling. Hey belly visibly shrinking. She checked the phone quickly. They were maybe a minute apart now, if that. This baby was coming extremely soon, it was a miracle Masie’s waters hadn't broken yet. “You’re doing so good… still about four or so minutes, it's harder to tell… plenty of time, I promise you, if anything they’re almost fluctuating… we’ve got plenty of time…”
It was time for the big gamble. If this didn't work, her best friend might catch onto what was happening and just like that, this perfect labor would slip away. The doula would be on her way, Maise would be trying to do everything safe and by the book, instead of the pure, primal, natural experience Erin knew labor and birth should be.
Taking a steady breath, Erin said “Just listen to your body. Don't fight yourself. It knows what you need. Whatever happens, just let me know what you’re feeling, but don't fight it, ok? This is a beautiful experience, and women have been birthing since the dawn of humans. Your body knows how to do this.”
Masie’s head nodded against her best friend’s shoulder, clinging on to Erin like a lifeline. The pressure was unlike anything she imagined, gigantic and irrefutable it waited in the wings, ready for its moment.
“E-Erin—” Masie stuttered, eyes scrunched and mouth open, panting desperately. “Oooof— the pressure— there’s just so much pressure!”
She didn’t understand it, the contractions were still only four minutes apart, Erin said they still had plenty of time. But the way Masie’s hips dipped and knees spread, every nerve and muscle in her body seemed electrified and focused in one direction - downwards.
Trying to steady her breathing Masie held her breath for a beat. Just a fraction of a second to regain control. But her strangled exhale turned into a low rumbling grunt, muscles unconsciously squeezing and bearing down with the pressure.
Erin grinned, stroking her friends back as the urgent, guttural sound slipped from her best friend. She could feel the muscles of her body tense, strain, could feel her body trembling with effort the woman clearly didn't fully understand the impact of.
“There you go… good… good, just like that… doesn't that feel nice? It must feel so right just giving into that pressure… don't fight it…” she fought to keep the excited quiver of desire out of her voice. It was really happening, really coming. She wondered if the head had moved, if she could feel the baby opening her deep inside…
But that was the joy of an indulgence like this. She wasn't sure, wouldn't know unless Masie told her. Asking could give too much away, so Erin just savored the feeling of her beautiful friend’s back muscles slowly relaxing as her breathing returned to normal. “Still four minutes, maybe a tiny bit less? Stuff is going slow hon, we still have time… you’re doing so good…”
Masie smiled, slowly standing on her own two feet and releasing her grip on Erin's shoulders.
“Mmm… thanks… doesn’t feel like it…. Ooooh… feels like the baby is about to fall outta me.”
Masie joked, her hand moving to hold the underside of the very low curve of her belly, bellybutton now practically pointing towards the grass.
Before they continued along the footpath across the park, Masie used both hands to hold her belly and moved her hips in large circles. No matter the angle, all she could feel was the boulder of the baby’s head in her pelvis. It was proving more difficult to accept Erin’s confirmation on how labour was progressing when that unyielding weight between her hips never granted her any peace.
“Mmmmgh…. Baby feels so low Erin…. I’m really not sure how much longer I can stay out here for….” Her words were breathy and almost a whimper, and she’d not even resumed their movement yet. Standing with legs wide and shifting her hips in an unconscious pendulous rhythm.
Erin blushed again. Seeing her friend so deep in the throes of labor… all she wanted to do was hold her, let her give in the way that the deceptive woman was sure was best for Maise. Savor her every push and groan…
“Do you… want me to check you again? I’m sure there’s a public bath nearby. We could slip in, and… only if you wanted, of course. I’d just need to remember where it is…”
Of course, she knew where the loo was. Knew Maise was too close to delivering to even notice. Erin could probably lead her to the middle of the market and she would barely notice… but she would never go that far. No, all she’d need to do is get them lost enough, but close to a quiet place for her bestie to deliver her baby…
Masie whimpered, holding her swollen middle as the next contraction washed over her. “Y-yes…. Oooohhhhh… I really think things have…. Ohhhh-god…. progressed….”
It took every ounce of strength within Masie to keep herself from doubling over right there in the middle of the park. But she didn’t want to draw attention to herself, didn’t want people to crowd around her or call an ambulance and ruin Erin’s birth plan. Her lips pursed, exhaling all the air from her lungs in a slow trembling breath.
The labouring woman curled over her belly, not quite doubling over but almost, and Erin quickly wrapped her arm around her waist to steady her.
“Ohhhh- shit—” Masie gasped, grunting involuntarily once more, and she felt something shift. The pressure between her hips spiking like a lightening rod.
“Mmm… good… things are going normally, I think… just let your body tell you what you need to do… don't fight it, good girl, just like that…” the groans were going right to Erin’s core, aching between her legs with arousal. It was a miracle that her friend hadn't pushed that last time, she was sure the urge must be eating at her. She kept doing everything she could to encourage giving in completely, to letting this baby come without even realizing it…
Using the hand around her hips, Erin guided Maise through the park. The contractions were down to a minute apart if not less, this baby could come any moment now… every few steps she could feel her friend tense all over again.
Looking around, Erin didn’t see any joggers or people immediately around. “Come on… the contractions still aren't too close, but I really should check now. We’ll hide behind a tree, and I can just check while you’re standing, ok?”
Masie nodded a whimpering noise of acceptance, cradling her belly and waddling with an obscenely wide gait. At the edge of the park was a thicket of trees, large old trunks reaching to the sky and creating a dome of shade with its leaves. Masie felt like she could barely stand, her womb spasming almost constantly, the spike of pressure never fading.
As her best friend guided her into the shade and around the first tree trunk Masie immediately took the chance to truly brace against something solid and firm. Staggering out of Erin’s hold the labouring woman planted both palms against the rough bark, pressing against it and jutting her hips backwards.
“Ooooooohhhh— nnnghh!” The trembling exhale ended with a gravelled strained noise.
“Oh god— Erin—” Masie gasped between primal noises “…I think… ohhhh no… it feels like I need to push—??”
Erin felt along her friends back. Her sides. Her hips, wrapping her hands around to feel her tensing belly. Holding her contracting bump and fighting to keep the husky arousal from her voice, the delighted woman all but purred “It’s just transition, hon. You’re getting really close now. But it could still be hours. You have time. Don’t be afraid to push honey, if you feel you need to, it's ok… let me just check you…”
Kneeling down as Masie let out a deep, guttural grunt of effort, Erin dragged her hand over her friends thigh, feeling the force going into her very real birthing push… it was really happening, it was coming any moment now, Erin could barely contain her excitement!
Carefully tugging her friends panties aside, she reached up, fingertips barely brushing her puffy, sensitive folds when…
A sharp, shocked sound came from Masie, and a moment later, warm, cloudy fluid poured from the soon-to-be-mother’s vagina, coating Erin's hand as she gasped in shock and desire. Her waters… they’d really broken, it was so close!
It felt like Masie’s whole entire body shuddered, a husky moan of pure relief escaping her throat as her waters finally gave way. Pulling in lungfuls of air, she tried to catch her breath, relishing in the miniscule break between contractions.
The utter shock and sheer relief of the release of pressure stunned the labouring woman into silence. Barely able to breath let alone speak to her best friend. But Erin’s presence remained close, her hands running up the side of her spread thighs, or holding her hips supportively. Knowing she was there, by her side through this was the only thing keeping Masie from spiralling.
The lull in pressure lasted barely sixty seconds, before every muscle in her body resumed its squeezing and contracting.
“E-E-Erin-! Check me— oh please check me— feels like it’s coming out— I really wanna push— it’s right there-uhhhhhh!!”
“Not yet, hon… not yet… fight it, fight… let me check you…” biting her lip and shivering at the ecstasy of it, Erin pushed her fingers into her friend’s birth canal. She could feel everything squeezing, straining. She could feel how hard Maise was resisting her body's desperate instincts.
Her fingertips pressed against something large, slick, even slimy. It was soft yet hard. Not her cervix, no… this was the head. The head of her baby. “Goddddsss Maise, yesss…” Erin moaned, before catching herself. “Y-you’re doing so good. Just a bit longer… be good for me…”
Erin let her fingers explore, caressing the head. Trying to find her cervix. Around the very, outer most edges, she felt something that might be the entrance to her struggling friends womb… but the head was pushing right through, she was birthing, right here and now.
“About… E-eight centimeters… so you’ve got a bit more. You just have to be brave, have to just listen to your needs, ok? Try not to bear down too much though, try to hold back for me…” she said, gently removing her fingers from inside her friend, and replacing her panties, eager to see the baby press into them.
Masie tried, really tried, to follow her friend's instructions. Her fingernails clawed at the bark of the tree trunk, breaths coming in fast and ragged, trying to hold off from nature's ancient instinct. It didn’t work. Without permission Masie’s entire womb clenched and pushed, hips tilting a fraction towards her friend, a barely audible rumble of effort rattling her chest.
“Nnnngh!!…. S-Sorry… I’m t-trying… I’m trying not to—” she croaked, trembling from head to toe.
It was too satisfying, giving in to that urge, it was calling her. With slightly more focus, Masie gave an intentional push, tentative and discreet, trying not to let Erin know… testing the waters a little. She moaned as her birth canal filled with the giant head of her child. “Oh god…..”
“Good… that’s right, don't give in…” Erin smirked, knowing all too well from the tightness of her body, the quivering of her legs and arms, that her bestie was bearing down, seeing if she would notice. She heard the moan and knew what it meant, what was happening inside.
“You’re doing amazing… lots of women in transition say they feel a phantom pressure inside, like something is coming out, filling them up… it's a normal step in the process. Just the contractions and hormones. You’re close but you still have a while to go. Just try not to push, you could hurt yourself.”
Meanwhile, Erin’s hands continued roaming, increasingly shameless. Feeling along her thighs and belly and back, savoring the pain and primal urgency gripping her friend. Her breathing grew heavier, increasingly excited by what was happening, how well it was going. And poor Maise didn't seem to suspect a thing.
It felt like an unstoppable tidal wave of pressure. Masie hissed through her teeth, drawing in oxygen and then releasing it shakily with a grunting push. Her legs were twitching beneath her dress, her arms trembling as she braced her weight against the tree. Erin said she still had two centimetres to go, Erin said this was only phantom pressure. Masie’s eyes rolled under her closed lids. She was so full.
Before she could utter any words Masie’s body was bearing down fully, primal and completely out of control. That phantom pressure was so low, she could almost feel it against her lower lips. Something heavy, round, pressing against her sensitive labia. But that couldn’t be right. She wasn’t even fully dilated!
“E-Erin— it feels— oh I think I’m— oh god— uhhhhhh!—”
“You’re doing amazing! You’re so beautiful hon, this is incredible… look at you go, laboring so well… let me just…” Erin had felt a shift in her friend, something had happened. She lifted Masie’s skirt again, looking between her legs… and gasped.
She couldn't help herself, the sound just escaped, awe and wonder and NEED. She reached out, cupped the bulge that had formed in her friends underwear. The head… the head was right there, barely inside her. Gently, carefully, she snuck a finger through the elastic on the edge, caressing the straining, tight lips and folds… slipping a fingertip in…
It was right. There. The slimy head she’d felt before was just barely in her entrance, not even far enough for the tip of her pinky to fully enter. Erin groaned, blushing, aching between her own legs. She WANTED to tell Masie to push, to crown this baby right into her palm, let her feel her perfect body opening. Instead, she carefully moved her hand, withdrawing, making sure the damp underwear were back in place, and let her other hand drift down, between her own legs.
“You’re doing amazing…” she managed, barely able to keep her voice steady. “Everything is going just how it's meant to. It's almost time, I think. Do you want to try to head back to the house now? We should have plenty of time to make it, call everyone. Your baby isn't about to start opening you up on the next contraction…” Her speech had gotten more breathy, she couldn’t pull her eyes away from that amazing bulge, knowing that she wouldn't be leaving this hiding space behind the tree before the baby was born, let alone getting home.
“Just try to fight the urge a bit… don't push… don't you dare push yet, Masie…”
“B-but Erin I— I don’t think I can m-moooooove—” Masie shuddered, a sudden lowing sound coming from the depths of her belly as her muscles contracted once more.
She wasn’t actively pushing, but by god she could feel something moving, something sinking steadily lower and lower. Masie’s body acted of its own volition, knees softening as her hips moved down with another push. When she released her unconscious efforts, that pressure, that bulge slipped back inside and she moaned at the feeling. The constant heavy weight, being on the cusp of something so primal and instinctual, her only reaction was a growling sound of fullness.
Erin could almost swear she saw the crotch of Masie’s panties move. A tiny tenting of the fabric during the last contraction. Her finger caressed her own womanhood as she speculated over whether it was just her lips pressing against them, or the head spreading her.
“Good… let it all out. Just don't let yourself bear down. The contractions aren't any closer yet, this should break soon, give you a rest period. You just have to ride out this cluster, ok? You just- oh, gods, Masie… yesss, you’re so brave, so beautiful…”
She couldn't help herself. This was such a stunning event. As another contraction gripped her friend, she stared, transfixed, waiting for the smallest sign of progress…
“They’re— they’re not letting up—” Masie whimpered, her fingernails digging into the bark of the tree trunk. “Feels like—it’s—right—there!”
Masie was panting, hanging on by a thread to her resolve. The idea of moving, of walking all the way back home, seemed like a pipe dream. She felt her muscles clench downwards again and she squeezed trying to stop her body from pushing. A lengthy breathless moan came rattling from her throat as her underwear bulged once more, her efforts to hold back spectacularly failing.
“Oh yesss hon… yes, so good, just like that…” Erin could see it. There was a little wet spot in Maise’s crotch that grew as the fabric tented, straining around something filling it. The head of her best friends baby.
It has all gone perfectly, Erin’s deepest fantasy was unfolding before her very eyes, for real. “Don't hold back, hon… this is natural, beautiful… this is how it's meant to be, keep going babe, you're doing so good…” her pleasure and satisfaction only grew as the scared moan rose into a deep, primal grunt of raw effort and pain. “Yes! Yes yes, let it out for me, let it all out, you’re so beautiful!”
“Oh god— Erin! I need— I need to push— I think it’s coming out of me—”
Masie frantically shouted, her hips rocking forward and back instinctively, knees bending slightly to widen her pelvis. Subconsciously making more room for the emerging baby.
“I don’t— I don’t think we have time— to go h-h-home…. I can’t hold back any more—”
Drawing in a trembling breath, Masie braced against the tree and widened her stance, her dress now bunched and resting on her flattened back. She couldn’t do it anymore, could no longer fight the call of nature. She simply had to push. Submitting to something she couldn’t put into words, Masie gave a low rumbling roar of effort as she pushed intentionally.
It didn’t matter if Erin kept up the act or not. This baby was coming, right here and now. Behind this tree in the middle of the park, right into her underwear. It was perfection.
“Don’t fight it anymore, that’s it! Puuush, big push for me, let it come! You're doing so good! You’re so beautiful, so perfect, just listen to your body!”
The wet bulge grew, the white fabric darkening with amniotic fluid as the head crowned wider. Erin imagined what her best friends vagina must look like under her panties, her vagina opening in a teardrop, slowly spreading to an O as she grunted and pushed. The leg holes of her underwear began to stretch as the head emerged, and from the right angle Erin could now see the hairy, glistening head of the baby through the gap of the elastic.
“So good, just like that.. please, keep pushing for me…” it felt so amazing, the laboring woman’s friend couldn't stop herself. She could feel an orgasm coming as the baby just kept inching down and out.
“Nnnnghh!!— fuck— it’s coming— it’s actually coming out of me…” Masie gasped, taking a ragged breath in a lull between pushes.
She could feel burning, the stinging at the apex of her thighs. Masie’s chest hitched as her nerve endings were set alight with the stretch and fullness. The baby’s head perfectly nestled between her folds, behind her sodden underwear, only partially crowned.
Masie hummed and moaned between contractions, swinging her hips left to right. “Oooooohhh— ohhhhhh….. c-can you see it…can you see the h-h-head? It f-feels like it’s close already…” She was leaning too far forward to remove her hands from the tree, unable to feel what progress she might have made, or verify how close her baby was to arriving.
“Oooooh— here it comes a-again— I— I dunno what to do— I need— oooof— I need to—unnnghhhhh!!!” Masie was lost to instinct once more, knees buckling into a partial squat as her uterine muscles clamped down and pushed hard.
“I can see it, yes! It's sooo big, crowning you wide. The bulge of that head… you’ve been pushing so good for me…” Erin heard the panic in her friends voice, her words becoming frantic, jumbled, and responded “just keep going! Your body knows how to have this baby! Let it come out, let me see you push, birth it for me, right here and now!”
Masie was stuck, unable to move, barely able to get oxygen into her lungs before pushing again. And again. And again. Each push brought the head out just that little bit more, straining her underwear a touch further. “Nnnnghh—I can’t— I can’t do it— it’s too big!— ooooohhhhh….” Not enough space. Too wide, too full, too stretched. Masie trembled from head to toe, rising up on the balls of her feet and sinking her hips down in a desperate attempt to end the pain.
The poor thing squatted deeper, not even realizing how much those pure, base instincts were taking her over. Erin caressed the emerging head, seeing the head emerging more as she strained with all her might. “Don’t stop! Don't stop, I know it hurts, I know it's so bad… there is nothing else you can do now, you have to let it come! Push! Push it out, oh yes!”
The head surged forward, bursting free with a spurt of fluids, her panties bagging, straining, clinging tight to the newborn. Erin made no effort to make space, seeing the band around her friend's hips tug down at the sudden arrival of the head. She was too lost in the taboo delight of it. She let out a grunt of her own, “Masie! Yes! Push!” And then she was lost, caring about nothing but the pleasure and the sight of this baby coming into the world, whether her friend was ready or not.
With the head born so suddenly, Masie gasped for air and lowered her heels to plant her feet firmly on the ground. “W-w-what just— is it— is it out-?”
The words came out in a shocked whispered stutter. Masie was scared to let go of the tree trunk she was bracing against, but there was something between her legs, something big and round and slimy. In the gap between contractions, her body getting a brief reprise, Masie managed to release one hand from the tree and it shook as she lowered it between her thighs.
Coming down from her climax, Erin took her friends hand, guided it to where it needed to go. Cupping her soaking wet panties, nudging her fingertips through the straining leg hole so she could touch the dripping head of her baby.
“The head is here. It's so close now, you’re almost done. Just one or two more big pushes. You can do it, the shoulders are just about to come out, the whole baby is here. You're doing beautifully.” She watched her friend explore the state of her body. She could only imagine how it must feel, touching her wide open privates, feeling this new person emerging from inside her body.
“Whoa…. That’s… that’s my baby…” Masie muttered under her breath, stunned, reaching around her belly and feeling the slippery sphere of the baby’s head between her thighs.
“You have to be brave. For me and the baby, ok?” Erin coerced, while still making no move to tug down the laboring woman's underwear. The wanted to see the raw force of birth force them down, see them slide to her thighs or knees from the sheer weight of emerging life. She was on her knees next to her friend, hands in place to catch the child she knew would be born very soon.
Masie’s mind was struggling to catch up with what was happening. One minute she was labouring with the support of her best friend in the park, the next thing she knew was the feel of her child’s head stretching and emerging from her womb. Her hands withdrew from between her legs abruptly, a groan slipping from her mouth as the next contraction thundered down the track towards her.
“Ohhhhh no…. Uhhhhhh… it’s happening again….” Masie’s words were cracked, hitching with the all too familiar pressure, and she bent forward once more with her palms pressed against the tree trunk.
“Mmmmghh…. I think… I think I have to push again-?” The labouring woman groaned, asking her friend, needing the guidance and support as the intensity spiked to such levels she could barely think.
“You do, Masie. You need to push so badly.” Erin coaxed, smiling contentedly, her voice filled with simmering lust and contentment. “You're ready. It's happening, there's no stopping it, sweetie. Push for me, don't fight it. Push this baby out…”
The desperation of her best friends words shivered through the deceptive woman, delighting in the situation she’d brought to life. This last moment was a final indulgence, a moment she would remember forever. She could see her friend tensing, hear the guttural moan raising in her voice.
“Here it comes… don't fight… it's time! Push! Puuush!” She urged, seeing Masie react to her words, needing this baby out. It was all so worth it…
Erin’s gravelled words prompted a raw reaction from Masie’s body. Baring her teeth and sinking her hips down, Masie gave a thunderous push, grunting low and slow with the strenuous effort. The burning stretch returned so quickly she gasped, shoulders pressing against her delicate opening.
She couldn’t stop. Over and over the desperate primal instinct to deliver this babe completely took over her body. Hissing each inhale Masie pushed and pushed, squatting lower and wider, straining to bring forth her child. No matter the location or the situation, the need to give birth was absolute.
Pop—! One shoulder slipped out, then another. Masie gasped, but couldn’t stop her muscles from squeezing and pushing, couldn’t take a break, couldn’t rest. This baby was slipping out right here and right now into her underwear.
“Good, keep going, keep going, She’s here Masie she’s here!” The sensation of wet, hot motion overwhelmed the new mum, the body emerging in a rush. Erin watched as her panties slid down her body, her deep squat shifting them so the baby almost tumbled out…
But Erin was a good friend, after all. She caught the baby, held it safe against her as her best friend trembled and sobbed and tried to gather herself, to even process what had just happened.
Holding the baby out, Erin whispered, awe in her voice “it’s a girl… you have a baby girl hon… you did so good, you were beautiful…”
all my partners and friends and tops should have acces to my location and calendar so they can know when where and for how long they can kidnap me and keep me
An app for cnc slaves. Pets sign up, including all times of the week when they’re alone (including sleep etc.). Any user can decide when to take them for a block of time, do what they want, return them in good condition to where they started, and leave a review.
For pets that are owned, the owner both sets the available times, and gets the feedback. If it wasn’t a completely eager, satisfying, and easy to use toy, the owner find out. And corrects its behavior so it doesn’t make them look bad to other users.
I know most people know what subdrop is, but for the few who don’t I’ll explain.
Subdrop is what happens to your body after you’ve drained your brain of all the hormones and chemicals that it released during a scene or session.
Meaning, after you‘ve come down from your high, you start to feel mentally and emotionally attacked from what just happened. You start to think all these bad things about yourself and how someone normal would not find what just occurred pleasurable in anyways.
That’s why aftercare is important. Showering your sub in compliments,food, cuddle sessions. Just stuff that will make them feel like you care and that you don’t judge them for enjoying what they like.
Another thing, I’m positive that most people don’t know is what topdrop is. It’s the same as subdrop but it affects doms/dommes.
I know some people will be like- “Doms/dommes don’t go through that, nothing like that bothers them.” That’s where you’re wrong.
Remember we’re all human so no one is exempt from feeling used or feeling disgusted with their actions even though they shouldn’t be.
Not many know this but being a dom/domme is exhausting. A good top plans physical punishments or sexual scenes down to the T so their is no room for accidents and after all that planning and executing said plan they sometimes feel bad for doing what they did or even feel used in a sense.
That’s why aftercare is important for both parties. Show them that you care and that you appreciate what they did. Reassure them that they didn’t hurt you in a bad way and that they only did what they did to help you grow. ASK👏 THEM👏 IF👏 THEY’RE👏 OKAY👏!! Especially right after a session.
That can be the difference between showing that you care or not.
AFTERCARE IS A NECESSITY FOR BOTH PARTICIPANTS!!👏💙✨
another shibari birth denial idea: being tied up in birthing position and suspended from the ceiling and put on display. calves tied to thighs framing your big pregnant belly, ropes around yout tits, milk dribbling all over your belly, pussy stretched out, and exposed, all while being in active labor. there's just one rope running between the plush lips of your pussy, knotted on top of your clit where it meets the ropes running around your pregnant belly. each time your swollen stomach seizes with contractions, the ties tighten and squeeze your full teats as milk squirts from your nipples and showering your audience, and knots dig into your pussy and sensitive clit sending you into involuntary orgasmic bliss while pain clamps down around your uterus. your sloppy cunt drools cum and birth fluids pooling on the floor below you. you can feel your cervix slacken and dilate, your pussy gawping open. humiliation burning when your rapt audience breaks free of the crowd of passive spectators and reaches for you. you are helpless to their rough hands rubbing and pushing your belly, reaching up to flick your tits. occasionally a mouth latches on and you can't help sighing in relief as the ballooning pressure in your tits subsides for a while. someone shoves their fingers in your loosening pussy and pulls your cunt apart and holds your pussy open around the rope, there's a hacking sound and you feel something cold and slimy in your cunt, spit. its your only warning before a hand forces its way inside your pussy. another contraction has you clamping down until you can feel every knuckle and vein. you push and push as hard as you can to get the squirming intrusion out. and then suddenly its gone with a loud squelch. that's when you feel it, the weight that has been dropping lower in your belly, slips out. your heart nearly stops. your baby is coming. your pussy bulges, pressing incessantly into the knot at your clit, you shudder through another painful orgasm that has your belly and birth canal cramping painfully. you want to push, you want the pain to stop, you don't want to come anymore, your womb seizes with every orgasm, aching cervix twitching violently around your baby's hips. your pussy hurts. all you can feel from womb to cunt is aching pain. you just want to give birth and for it to all be over. but you can't. even though your body screams at you to push. you cant birth your baby suspended four feet off the ground like this. you hold back even as the crowd heckles and mocks you. your pussy is so sore and you've come so many times you don't think you can come anymore. then someone pulls the rope nestled between your pussy away from your cunt, they keep tugging on it even as you beg, the bulging head emerges into a full crown. desperately clamping down, you try to hold your baby in with all the strength left in your aching cunt but the baby slips and turns inside you, its way eased by your continuous orgasms. the person pulling the rope away for your cunt let's go, the rope snaps back into place, thwapping into the head bulging in your cunt and forcing it back into you. you can feel the legs lodged in your cervix slide back until its back in your womb. you thank them between sobs, cheeks burning with shame at the raucous laughter. they smack your gaping bulge in your pussy crushing the knot against your clit, jolting your baby back deeper into your womb. you shriek and the sudden painful orgasm that tears through you, finally losing your grip on reality as cum pours from your pussy squirting around the baby's head.
Circus Gives Birth @circusgivesbirth - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
