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@egged-bound
I don’t have an intro post so here it is :
Eggs or egged, he/it mostly T4T focused unless your cool idk. I don’t do DMs I will answer asks sometimes when I’m feelin spicy :) top or seeder ike 90% of the time
Kinks -
Birth/egg laying
Pet play
Hucow
Mpreg
CNC
Anal
No thanks :
Scat
Beastiality
Bursting
Bellyaches/burping
Force fem. Or misgendering
🫃3️⃣🍼🏢
🛑 💊 and/or 🔌
🦵🙇♂️⌛️💦
Thinking a ripe businessman 🤔
(Birth Denial Request Game)
Ugh I love pregnant businessmen… really like the idea of a high level exec with like 800 important projects frantically waddling around in a shirt like four sizes too big for him but the buttons are still straining around the torpedo triplet belly that enters rooms long before the rest of him. Everyone’s afraid to question him but they can’t help but stare at his visibly contracting belly, and he tells them yeah yeah he was supposed to have had the kids and be on paternity leave already, but it’s fine, he has so many loose ends to tie up!
He arrived at work at 7AM sharp with the labor suppressants on hand but he hasn’t taken them yet cause they’re an extreme measure. So even though he keeps having to stop during conversations to lean on tables and groan his way through brutal contractions, he still doesn’t think it’s time for the pills. He’s coated in sweat and idly circling his hips as he talks to coworkers, trying to find a way to stand where the lowest baby’s head doesn’t feel so heavy.
He’s touching base about his most important project at 10:00AM when he starts to feel the need to push. But he just… doesn’t. Resists it even though it makes him feel squirmy and uneasy and like he wants to scream. Mumbles, “Don’t push, dooon’t push” to himself as he tries and fails to jog to his office after, too bow-legged by the feeling that a head is about to fall out of him.
i can be your live in loser bf whose only job is to play video games and get pregnant? can’t cook, won’t clean, no job, but i will lay around and eat your food and birth your babies in your bedroom.. as a treat?
if you birthed my big fat babies back to back to back you wouldnt have to do shit in my house. id work and do everything for both of us to watch you heave out my babies into our bed. just to watch you sit and awkwardly hold your controller around or on top of your massive belly would be enough for me. you may be a leech on my life but my offspring would make things even harder for you. the simple act of sitting down and getting up would be a struggle with your hanging, torpedo belly weighing you down.
Thinking bout how I’d love to keep you as a breeding pet, fuck you over and over again pump you with fertility supplements until your huge with my babies.
Let you wander my house naked so round you can barely move until you go into labor. It’ll be long take days for you to even be able to start pushing out my massive spawn and by then your so tired already. Set you up standing hands cuffed to a bar so you can’t do anything but rock. Put a spreader bar between your feet so you’re stuck like that so I can playing with your pussy as you start pushing.
Watch you moan when I fuck you hindering your progress until your begging through the pain. Pull out just to let you start crowning before I start working my dick into your tight little ass let you feel the burn from both holes.
fucccckkk… i really really need this… a long painful birth with a huge baby… mm maybe even a 20 pounder. keep me tied up the whole time and on display for you, after all i’m just a toy right? i would love to get fucked up my virgin ass dry and raw while i struggle to crown around that huge head too… bet id be screaming, crying and begging for it all to end. too panicked to even push… ughhhhh 🩷🩷
competition to see which boy can birth the biggest eggs, they are lined up on stage, their legs in restraints, their cunts gaping and on display, the first round begins and their bellies grow quickly, the boys moaning and holding their bruising skin, the newest ones screaming as they are forced open, the eggs relentless, round-after-round the eggs become bigger and bigger, eventually the eggs become too big for the boys to push through their gaping holes, anyone who cannot birth naturally are disqualified, the eggs eventually become so large the boys are pushing their hips open, the hard shells grinding against their bones, their legs splayed, their bellies rock-hard from the pressure, their hips eventually break, the boys screaming as the eggs pass through broken and torn tissue and muscle, without an intact pelvic bones, the boy's hips deform and widen around the girth of the egg, allowing for easy birthing, the next stage of the competition begins, the eggs growing textured and lumpy, the boys groaning in agony as the massive eggs make their way down their tight passages, their holes easily deforming and opening around the eggs, the eggs grow larger until the boy's holes are stretched to their absolute maximum, their insides wide and hollow, barely enough room to grow one egg at a time before it is forcefully birthed, the eggs eventually grow so large they get stuck, the boys are in hysterics as the staff push their fingers into their holes, opening them wider for the eggs to pass out, the last two boys are go round-for-round until the eggs grow so large there is no longer any room inside the boys, the eggs growing so large that the tip has to poke out of their cunt, ready to be born, the boys are clearly in agony, their cunt never getting a break, they scream and cry as each egg grows and their bodies push the eggs out their ruined cunts, the eggs continue to grow inside the boys, their holes never getting a chance to close, their legs quiver as their bodies shake in agony as they continue to birth giant egg after giant egg, both boys get stuck on the same egg, their bellies so large they can't reach their arms around themselves, both sobbing, cheeks wet with tears, the egg so large it is already a third of the way out of their cunts, their holes tight and stretched around the egg, they gasp and yell, voices raw and desperate, but the eggs don't move, the staff declare it a tie they will begin the tie-break round, the staff begin growing a second egg inside the boys, just as large as the first, they both tense up and wail as their bellies expand even further, they howl as they try to push the first egg out before the next one grows, their bellies are tight and starting to discolor from the massive intrusion, the boys push the first eggs out of their stretched pussies, crying as another egg immediately starts growing, larger and right behind the one before it, the boys ride waves of agony as egg after egg grow in their bellies, each one forcing the next one to push the last one out, the boys heads roll on their shoulder, delirious from the pain of their cunts being destroyed by the massive eggs, eventually one boy does manage to push out his eggs, while the other gets stuck with three massive eggs inside him, one nearly half way out of his cunt, stuck at a ring of fire, but unable to stretch and push it out on his own, both boys were sobbing, barely aware that the competition has ended, the one unable to birth begged the staff to help him birth the eggs, screaming as the staff pushed both hands into his pussy, cupping beside the massive egg, forcefully stretching his hols open wider, the staff helped guide the eggs out of the boy, while he moaned brokenly, the winner was shown off to the crowd, the staff easily fitting two fists into their loose hole, spreading their arms and showing how hollow and empty the boy was inside him now
im a lil too shy to roleplay but i wanted to toss in an idea!! i think about penis birth a lot, and lately ive been thinking about it happening with like. eggs?? their hard surface has a lot less give than a squishy infant, so whoever's birthing them really has their work cut out for them. ive also been thinking about a birther jerking their cock off in an attempt to get the eggs to their tip faster. even if the crowning is agonizing, they just want it over with... but if theyre too careless while stroking themselves, they could jostle an egg into a more difficult position to birth, like sideways.
i just think theres a lotta potential for cock birth with hardshell eggs. hope this is interesting!
- W
Hard Shell, Hard Times
Word count: 900
I remember the day you told me the truth. You weren't originally from here and were looking for an incubator for your eggs. I was hesitant at first. My body wasn’t designed to incubate eggs. You assured me that didn’t matter. You lay your eggs deep inside the urethra, so any sex will do. So one passionate and pleasurable night later I was full of over two dozen of your eggs.
Nothing felt too different at first. Besides you insisting on keeping me full of cum due to it helping the eggs grow. As time went on the eggs grew and my belly swelled to that of a full term pregnancy. I couldn’t see my penis anymore over my huge belly. Soon after I felt the shells beginning to harden, which you explained meant I was close.
Then the day came. The day my penis began to leak clear fluid and my eggs suddenly felt much lower. My penis and pelvis throbbed with pain as my contractions started. I breathed through most of them. You told me to let my cock loosen up so the eggs can come out easier. But as time went on this became harder and harder. The pain and frequency of my contractions increased. I could feel the eggs begging to line up behind my urethra.
“How big are they supposed to be again?” I ask, gasping through another contraction.
“Most are the size of large chicken eggs. But some can be larger, even getting to the size of a lemon.” You inform me. “Lets hope yours are average.”
I nod as an answer. A new contraction rushed through me. The urge to push is greater than ever.
I give in, I bare down and push.The first of my eggs starts to push forward into my penis. I cry out and reach down. I grip the base of my penis and start to tug. The small amount of pleasure was helping. I gasped and bore down again. The tip of the first egg pushed itself down into my still tight urethra.
I now understood why waiting was necessary. The stretch of the eggs sliding down felt like I was being torn in half. The hard shell made it much more difficult than if it had even a little bot of give. I rubbed the taught skin surrounding the eggs. I jerked myself off harder as the next contraction started. I pushed hard again. The egg slid further along. I cried out in pain as it made its way further out. Just as the eggs fully entered my penis I felt the second eggs start to enter my base.
I let out a cry as the first egg reached my tip. The second egg was fully inside my penis. A third was starting to stretch the base. I was jerking myself off with a desperation for any sort of relief. The only kind I was receiving was feeling the eggs move down faster. So with each contraction I gripped my shaft, there was no longer any pleasure, just the desperate need to get my eggs out.
Then the stretch began at the head of my penis. My hole burned and ached from the hard tip of my first egg. I screamed through the burning and panted through what felt like tearing. Until finally the first eggs popped free. I barely had time to catch my breath before the next egg was sliding down, freeing itself with a wet pop. The pattern continued. I pushed out 5 eggs, before most of my crying became exhausted moans. 2 more before my hand started to get tired and slowed down. 8 more before I felt something was majorly wrong.
My eyes flew open when I started to feel one of my eggs begging to turn in my shaft. The pain was excruciating, the skin stretched beyond anything it's already done. I tried to massage it back into place. Yet nothing worked. I screamed as my next contraction kept my eggs moving. The turned eggs stretched my penis the whole way out. I tried again to turn it before it reached my hole. I frantically tried to jerk it back into place. Until I felt the pain and my body started to push against my wishes.
The egg surged forward against my hole. The skin stretched to accommodate, it sent white hot pain shooting up though my penis. I screamed and jerked myself off faster, trying to squeeze my hand at the head to get the egg out quicker. I pushed once then twice and with a shriek the eggs popped out.
I barely had to push for the next three to come slipping out. I panted through my next 4. Now being much more careful jerking off as to not turn another egg.
Then, I finally felt the last egg enter my penis. My contractions had weakened but thankfully I was loose enough I could push out the last 3 eggs stuck in my penis with my hand. Sliding them down my wrecked and stretched penis until they slipped free from the tip with little resistance.
I collapsed backward. My stomach deflated and my penis, stretched and damaged, hanging limp between my legs.
“26 eggs…” I groan.
“That was good for your first clutch.” You say happily. “They only get larger now that your body is used to it.
-
I had a couple of asks with this theme so I hope you all enjoy!
The VR Experience
Ashley was 22 years old, and she had been waiting for this day for 3 months.
Not because she was pregnant. She wasn't, not really, not in the flesh and blood way that made you waddle and weep and fear for your perineum. But Ashley was obsessed with birth. The raw, feral, screaming into the void kind of birth. The kind that left you torn and trembling and transcendent. And in the real world, you only got so many chances to do that. So once a month, sometimes twice, she took the train to the Nexus VR Birthing Center, paid her 300 dollars, and lived out the most brutal, beautiful hours of her artificial life.
Today she had booked the Premium Unassisted package. 12 hours of labor. 3 babies. Head down positioning for all 3. No midwives, no holographic doctors, no safety net except the equipment in the room and her own 2 hands. That was how Ashley liked it.
The center was a low white building on the edge of the industrial district, nothing fancy on the outside. Inside, the air smelled like chlorine and clean linen. A receptionist with a calm voice handed her a tablet. Ashley scrolled through the options. She selected "Unassisted Vaginal Birth." She selected "Triplets." She selected "Head Down, All 3." She selected "Labor Duration: 12 hours." She selected "Pain Intensity: Maximum." She selected "No Medical Intervention." She selected "Realistic Tearing Simulation: On." She selected "Placenta Delivery: Manual Required." She selected "Hemorrhage Simulation: Off." She selected "Cord Complications: Off." She selected "Shoulder Dystocia: Off." She wanted the birth to be hard, brutal even, but she wanted it to work. She wanted to succeed alone.
Then she walked to Room 4.
The room was circular, about 15 feet across, with soft gray walls that looked solid but could turn into any landscape she wanted. A birthing pool sat in the corner, empty. A cart held clamps, scissors, bulb syringes, 12 towels, a suction device, 3 sets of sterile cord ties, 2 emesis basins, a blue plastic tarp, a bottle of antiseptic spray, a peri bottle, 4 absorbent pads, and a digital thermometer. A low futon mattress was on the floor, covered in a waterproof sheet. There were no monitors, no IV stands, no screens. Just her and the supplies.
Ashley stripped off her clothes and folded them on a shelf. She took the small white pill from a sealed foil packet. It was the size of a jellybean. She inserted it into her vagina as far as her fingers could reach, 3 inches deep, pushing past the ridge of her pelvic floor until she felt the pill settle against her cervix. The pill would dissolve in 10 minutes and trigger a cascade of synthetic hormones: oxytocin, relaxin, prostaglandins, and a proprietary blend of neuromuscular stimulants. Her uterus, empty and normal sized 20 minutes ago, would begin to expand. Her cervix would soften and dilate. Her pelvic ligaments would loosen. Her body would believe, with total conviction, that she was 40 weeks pregnant with triplets. The VR headset hung on a hook by the door. She put it on. The gray walls dissolved.
She was standing in a meadow. That was the default setting, but she had overridden it. She had chosen "Birthing Cave." The walls became rough stone, damp and cool. A single lantern hung from a wooden beam. A pile of soft moss was in the corner. A low wooden stool sat in the center of the room. Ashley sat on the futon in the real world, but in the simulation she was cross legged on the moss, naked, her hands resting on her belly.
She waited.
7 minutes later, the first contraction hit. It started as a low pressure in her lower back, just above her tailbone, then bloomed forward through her abdomen like a fist slowly closing. The synthetic oxytocin was binding to her uterine receptors, forcing her myometrium into a coordinated squeeze. She could see her belly tighten in the simulation, a hard ridge forming across the top of her uterus. Ashley breathed out through her mouth and smiled. Good. Right on time.
By the 1 hour mark, the contractions were coming every 4 minutes and lasting 50 seconds each. Ashley was on her hands and knees on the futon, rocking her hips in slow circles. Her belly had swollen to the size of a full term singleton pregnancy. She looked 9 months pregnant. Inside, the simulation had populated her uterus with 3 synthetic fetuses, each one made of silicone and weighted to feel like real infants, each one connected to a network of pressure sensors and hydraulic pistons that would mimic their descent through her birth canal. The first baby's head was pressed against her cervix, which was now 2 centimeters dilated. Ashley could feel it. The pill had also dilated her real cervix by 2 centimeters, a strange and invasive sensation, like something was prying her open from the inside.
By hour 3, her belly was enormous, tight as a drum, stretched with the weight of triplets. In the simulation, she looked like she was carrying a beach ball under her skin. The veins on her breasts were blue and bulging. Her areolas had darkened to a deep brown. In reality, none of that was true, her body was still 22 years old and unpregnant, but the VR headset fed signals directly to her visual cortex, and the pill sent matching signals to her somatosensory cortex. She felt huge. She felt heavy. She felt every pound of the 3 babies, a combined 18 pounds of synthetic flesh pressing on her bladder and her diaphragm and her rectum.
She had moved to the floor, no futon, just the cool rubber mat. She was squatting low, her thighs burning, her hands braced on a birthing stool she had pulled from the wall. The contractions were 2 minutes apart and lasted 90 seconds each. She groaned through them, low and guttural, sweat dripping from her chin onto her chest. The sound echoed off the stone walls of the simulation. In the real room, she knew she was alone, but in the cave, she felt like the last woman on earth.
At hour 5, her water broke. She was on hands and knees again, and she felt a deep pop inside her, then a gush of warm fluid that splashed onto the mat between her knees. The fluid was real, a sterile saline solution that the pill had instructed her body to produce and store in an artificial amniotic sac inside her uterus. She looked down and saw it was tinged pale pink. Good. No meconium. The first baby's head was descending. She reached between her legs with 2 fingers and felt the baby's head through the sac before it broke, a hard round shape wrapped in slippery membrane. Then the sac tore, and the fluid poured out, and she felt the bare silicone skull against her cervix.
The next 2 hours were the longest of her life. She moved between squatting and hands and knees, unable to find relief in either position. The contractions were a solid wave now, no real break between them, just peaks and valleys of agony. The pain was not just in her uterus. It radiated down her thighs, into her lower back, up into her ribs. She vomited twice, a thin yellow bile that she wiped from her chin with the back of her hand. Her cervix was fully dilated at hour 6 and 10 minutes. She knew because she reached inside with 2 fingers and felt the rim of her cervix, soft and gone, and then she felt the hard curve of a baby's skull, just 1 inch inside her vagina.
She started pushing without meaning to. Her body took over. The urge was like vomiting, a violent, unstoppable reflex that made her bear down with every contraction. She was squatting on the birthing stool now, her feet flat on the mat, her hands gripping her own thighs. She screamed. Not a movie scream. A real one. Raw and throat shredding. The scream lasted 15 seconds and ended in a wet cough. She pushed again, and the baby's head moved down another half inch.
The head crowned at hour 7 and 15 minutes. She reached down and felt it, a circle of wet hair, the skin of her perineum stretching white and thin. She could see her own vulva in the simulation, distorted and swollen, the baby's head bulging between her labia. The ring of fire was exactly what everyone said it was, a burning, searing, impossible stretch that made her want to push and stop pushing at the same time. She pushed harder, and the head emerged in a rush, chin to her anus, then rotating. She caught the baby's head in her own hands, feeling the soft spots, the molded shape of a skull that had just passed through her pelvis. One more push, a burning ring of fire that made her vision go white and her ears ring, and the shoulders slid out, then the rest of the body, slick and purple and screaming.
Baby 1 was a girl. 6 pounds 2 ounces. 19 inches long. Ashley laid her on the mat between her feet, wiped her mouth with a towel, and tied the cord with a sterile tie 2 inches from the belly. She did not cut it yet. The cord was still pulsing, a thick white rope threaded with blue and red veins. She watched it beat for 90 seconds until it stopped. Then she tied a second tie 1 inch from the first and cut between them with the scissors. The baby cried again, a high thin wail. Ashley put her on her chest, skin to skin, and felt the small mouth rooting against her nipple.
1 minute later, the second contraction came for Baby 2. Ashley was still squatting, the first baby crying against her thigh, the cut cord trailing from her vagina, a thin ribbon of blood and fluid following it. She shifted the first baby into the crook of her left arm and reached down with her right hand. She could feel Baby 2's head, already low, forced down by the weight of Baby 3 behind it. She pushed. The contraction lasted 70 seconds. She pushed 4 times during that contraction, each push a grunting, straining effort that turned her face red and made the veins stand out on her neck.
She pushed for only 4 minutes before the head crowned. Her perineum, already stretched by the first baby, tore with a sound like wet paper. She felt it rip from her vagina toward her anus, a second degree tear that bled hot and fast. The tear was 2 inches long and gaping, and she could see the raw pink muscle underneath the skin. She did not stop. She pushed through the pain and caught Baby 2's head, then the shoulders, then the body. Baby 2 slid out in a rush of blood and vernix, his cord wrapped once around his neck. Ashley unwrapped it with trembling fingers, 2 loops, careful not to pull too hard. He gasped and coughed and then screamed.
Baby 2 was a boy. 5 pounds 15 ounces. 18.5 inches long. He was smaller than his sister and came out furious, fists clenched, legs kicking, his face scrunched into a tight red mask of outrage. Ashley laid him next to his sister on the mat and tied his cord the same way, 2 inches, then 1 inch, then cut. Both babies were crying now, a duet of rage and cold and the shock of being born.
She had 30 seconds of stillness. Her body was shaking violently, a fine tremor that started in her thighs and spread to her arms and her jaw. Blood was running down her thighs and pooling on the mat, a dark red puddle about 6 inches across. She could see the tear in her perineum when she looked down, a ragged split about 2 inches long and half an inch deep. It hurt like a knife wound, a sharp specific pain that was different from the deep ache of the contractions. She pressed a towel against it and felt the blood soak through in 10 seconds. She pressed harder.
But she was not done.
Baby 3 was still inside. The contractions had not stopped. They were coming every 90 seconds now, each one weaker than before because her uterus was exhausted, but still strong enough to make her grunt and bear down. She shifted onto her hands and knees because she could not stay squatting anymore, her legs were too weak, her thighs were on fire, her calf muscles had cramped twice. She lowered her head to the mat, arched her back, and pushed with everything left in her.
The third baby was the largest, 6 pounds 8 ounces, and his head jammed against her pelvic bone for 3 full contractions. Each contraction lasted 60 seconds. She pushed through all of them. On the first contraction, his head moved 0. She screamed into the mat, her fingernails scraping the rubber, leaving 4 shallow furrows. On the second contraction, his head moved a quarter inch. She felt the bone of her pubic symphysis grinding against the bone of his skull, a horrible friction that made her want to crawl out of her own skin. On the third contraction, she pushed so hard that blood vessels burst in her face, leaving a spray of red dots across her cheeks and around her eyes. On the fourth push of that third contraction, his head popped free of the bone and descended in a rush. Then his shoulders, then the rest of him slid onto the mat in a rush of blood and fluid and something else, a gush of dark old blood that meant her placenta was starting to separate.
Baby 3 was a boy. 6 pounds 8 ounces. 20 inches long. He was not crying. His body was limp and pale. Ashley grabbed him, wiped his face and mouth with a towel, rubbed his back hard with her knuckles, flicked the soles of his feet 6 times. Nothing. She bent his head back, opened his mouth, and sucked the fluid from his nose and throat with the bulb syringe. She did it again. On the third try, he gasped once, a wet ragged sound, then screamed, a high thin wail that made her laugh and sob at the same time. His color turned from gray to pink in less than 10 seconds. She tied his cord and cut it, then pulled all 3 babies onto her chest, all 3 of them squirming and crying and rooting.
She had birthed 3 babies in 47 minutes. Baby 1 at 7 hours 15 minutes. Baby 2 at 7 hours 20 minutes. Baby 3 at 8 hours 2 minutes. All head down. All unassisted. All alive.
She sat back against the wall, the 3 babies piled on a towel in her lap, their cords already cut and tied, their small bodies warm against her belly. The afterpains started 10 minutes later, mild compared to what came before, but still sharp enough to make her catch her breath. They were her uterus shrinking back down, the synthetic oxytocin still flooding her system. She waited for the placenta.
Nothing happened.
She pushed. Nothing. She waited 5 more minutes. Nothing. She pushed again, harder, bearing down like she was pushing for a fourth baby. A small gush of blood, but no placenta. She reached inside with 2 fingers, then 3, and felt the edge of the placenta, still firmly attached to the top of her uterus. She remembered her selection: "Placenta Delivery: Manual Required." She had chosen this. She wanted to pull it out herself.
Ashley took a deep breath. She inserted her whole hand, fingers together, sliding past her cervix, into the open cavity of her uterus. The sensation was indescribable, a deep pressure that made her nauseous. She found the edge of the placenta and peeled it away from the uterine wall, using her fingertips to separate the spongy tissue from the muscle beneath. It came away in pieces. She pulled out a handful of dark red tissue, then another, then another. Blood poured down her arm, hot and slick, dripping onto the mat. She kept going until she felt the inside of her uterus empty and smooth. Then she pulled her hand out, covered in blood to the wrist.
The placenta was in pieces on the mat, a pile of organ the size of 2 fists. She counted the lobes. There were 3, one for each baby, fused into a single disc. She laid it in an emesis basin and set it aside.
She cleaned the babies one by one, wiping the vernix from their skin, suctioning their noses and mouths again, checking their fingers and toes. All 3 had 10 fingers and 10 toes. All 3 had perfect silicone bodies, warm and soft and heavy. She wrapped them in separate towels and laid them in a row on the futon. Baby 1, the girl, was calm now, her eyes barely open. Baby 2, the smaller boy, was still fussing, his mouth making little o shapes. Baby 3, the largest boy, was asleep, exhausted from his difficult birth.
Ashley turned her attention to her own body. The tear in her perineum was still bleeding, a slow ooze rather than a gush. She cleaned it with the antiseptic spray, which made her hiss through her teeth, and pressed a clean towel against it. She would need stitches. She knew that. But for now, she just wanted to sit in the stillness.
The room began to power down. The soft gray walls flickered, the cave simulation dissolving into static, then into the real room with its white walls and fluorescent lights. The pill in her vagina had fully dissolved. Her belly shrank back to its normal flatness, inch by inch over the course of 5 minutes, until she looked like a 22 year old woman again instead of a mother of triplets. The tear in her perineum was real tissue damage, the VR system was that precise. The synthetic oxytocin had caused her real pelvic floor to stretch and tear. She would need 4 stitches from a real doctor later. But right now, she just held the 3 silicone babies, warm from the heating elements embedded in their cores, their tiny mechanical hearts ticking against her palms.
She pressed the call button. A staff member came in with a wheelchair and a glass of orange juice. Ashley was still crying, still shaking, still smiling. Her thighs were slick with blood and saline. The towel between her legs was soaked through. The 3 babies lay in a row on the futon, their towels now stained pink.
"How was it?" the staff member asked.
Ashley looked down at the three fake babies, their blank plastic faces, their soft weighted bodies, the tiny rise and fall of their synthetic chests. She thought about the 12 hours of labor. The 47 minutes of pushing. The feel of her own hand inside her uterus. The sound of the third baby's first breath.
"Perfect," she said. Her voice was hoarse. "Book me again for next month. Twins next time. 6 hours. Head down. Unassisted. And add shoulder dystocia training. I want to see if I can resolve it alone."
She handed over the babies, one by one, letting the staff member place them in a transport incubator. They would be cleaned, sterilized, and reprogrammed for the next client. Ashley let herself be wheeled to the recovery room, where she would drink her juice, eat a granola bar, and sign the waiver for her perineal repair at the clinic down the street.
As the door closed behind her, she was already planning her next birth.
Cmon now, spread your legs a little wider. Good good… babe.. just like that. Just breathe .. breathe.. gooood. It’s coming down now faster isn’t it? Do you feel like you need to push? Ok.. take a deep breathe in and puuuush all that air out. Focus on bringing that pressure down. Oh.. fuck. Your pussy is starting to bulge now. Breathe .. oh babe your lips are parting. I see our babies head. Reach down and feel with me. Crown our baby right here
I wonder if there are any creatures you can give birth to where there’s a surprise twin/triplet/etc situation… some creature where it keeps multiplying and you keep having to push out more every time you feel like you’re finished
I do have one particular permapreg fantasy where I prove myself as the alpha werewolf’s favorite womb and he starts breeding me daily. Near my due date, during a hard breeding, my water breaks and I whelp a few pups while he watches, but my belly is still huge. My contractions stop and it’s over. I get checked out and it turns out I have litters upon litters of pups inside me, each at a partial stage of development. There’s another litter of pups just ready to be whelped. The next day my alpha fucks me into labor again and I whelp another small litter. Every single day my water breaks and I have to squat and whelp a litter of pups, but my belly is always still full. And every day I’m bred and fertilized with a new litter while pregnant with 4 months’ worth of werewolf pups, all waiting their turn to be whelped.
And one day I find out that a pup has been stuck inside my womb for months past its due date—and it has just found its way to my cervix. It’s orders of magnitude bigger than any pup I’ve whelped, and there’s no one to help me as my body gives in and pushes…
Pregnant femboy model forced to walk the catwalk over and over for a big show while he’s deep in labor, water broken long ago, every single step, every jostle, every accidental push lowers the enormous pup that’s so very low in his birth canal. Soon he starts bulging hard, quickly coming to a crown during one of the outfits. Finally, his last outfit is a bikini, and he isn’t crowning *too* hard, so someone holds a hand gently but firmly over his crowning hole, letting him fruitlessly push into their hands while they dress him in his faggy little bikini. His tits are beginning to leak milk through the bikini top, and in order to walk, he has to spread his legs soooo very wide, barely able to waddle down the catwalk while the bulge in his bikini *quickly* grows bigger and bigger while he tries his hardest to get down the catwalk. Finally he reaches the end, poses for pictures, and turns around, but his instincts take over completely, dropping him down to all fours, crowning in full view of the audience, photographers snapping pictures constantly as he whelps 8 massive pups for everyone who decided to show up that day.
I don't know how long it's been since he put me in this cage. It’s tiny. I can't stretch out my limbs, can't stand or lay down properly. But he lets me out once a day. To play with me, he says. To inspect my body, feel me up everywhere. I think he hurts me... I have new bruises blooming all over my body everytime he locks me up again. But it’s been too long, I don't care if a touch is good or bad anymore, as long as he touches me.
I don't know how long it's been but my once flat belly is now a bulging mass of life. It’s unbearably tight and heavy, overfilled and overstretched. When I touch it, it's too warm under my hands, the skin too sensitive, bringing tears to my eyes.
I don't know how long it's been but my belly is cramping so badly it makes me constantly lightheaded. I feel a pressure moving down so overwhelmingly, it makes me breathless. It makes me beg him to push, I feel like I need to push all the time. I can't stop the begging... and I never beg. He doesn’t like it. He just leaves me in my cage, with no relief. I don't know for how long.
One of my fav object birth concepts is like, farmer or gardener who just.. gives birth to a bunch of fruit and vegetables.
Like, feeling all the different shapes inside them each day, pressing out against their tummy... the feeling of contractions, knowing that their harvest would soon be ready. The smallest things like cucumbers or lemons and limes come out with no effort at all. Struggling a bit to get the next batch of produce out, squatting down with their legs spread to make room for the medium-sized fruit and veg. They grunt out a few apples and oranges, huffing with effort, savouring the girth of an eggplant that slowly slides out. Then the largest produce always gives them some trouble. They have to ease out the bigger things like squash and grapefruits, slowly pushing out their prized harvest. By the end of it all, they're surrounded by a nice harvest of different fruits and vegetables.
Owner thrusting roughly into his puppy boy.
“You want puppies, puppy? Gonna fill you with a whole litter. Stay down be good, be good.” Grunting and holding puppy’s tail up.
What if I woke up tomorrow suddenly swollen with pups overnight? I’m so full that I can’t even get out of bed. You find me there, whining and moaning as the squirming of puppies under my skin arouses me. The sight of my massive belly surprises you. I wasn’t even pregnant yesterday. I can’t reach my aching cock or sopping pussy anymore. I beg you to help me get off. Maybe if we’re lucky, you’ll fuck me into labor. My water will break as my orgasm causes me to clench down on your thick cock. Then you’ll get to fuck me as I work to push out the pups for hours, or maybe even days. And once I’m done, you’ll have already put another litter in me. All we can hope for is that whatever caused this pregnancy to come on so suddenly happens again…
Imagine being locked into a milker on your hands and knees, and then having an inflatable toy shoved in you, and you can't see who's controlling it behind you, but you definitely feel it when they go from slow increases in size to starting to pump it three times larger in moments, and there's nothing you can do to stop it, all while your udders are getting hardcore milked
Ugh that sounds amazing… I just birthed on my hands and knees but the idea of having my hands shackled and my tests being milked and no control over the inflatable is so 😵💫 I’m screaming that it’s too big, it’ll never come out, when my captor sticks two electrode pads to my back. They say, “better push, there’s a contraction coming,” and I barely have time to process before a shock is delivered to my lower back. My body begins to cramp, and with the help of the intense suckling at my teats, I’m forced into what feels like a real contraction, moaning low like the cow I am as my body instinctively pushes. My voice snaps over a yelp of pain as the huge mass inside of me inches down my birth canal, feeling like it might tear me open. And all the while, the pleasure of having my milky nipples tugged threatens to push me over the edge of pain or delirium.
I don't care how much it hurts, sweetheart. It's going in that pretty asshole no matter how much you cry. Either you make it fit, or I make it fit.
huge pregnant puppy who keeps trying to breed the other knocked up dogs but hes so big he can barely move so its just cute watching him struggle to mount the other puppies as if doing so would put another litter in their already huge bellies or, for that matter, his own
