I want to make it clear that this blog & my kinks are purely in the realm of fantasy & do not in any way, shape or form express my true values or beliefs. I am an indigenous, queer, trans, non-binary, childfree, anti-colonial feminist. I am staunchly pro-choice. I do not believe that men are superior to women or have any birthright to subjugate or control them.
My breeding/pregnancy kink, including the coercive & outright forced aspects of it, stems from trying to make sense of & healthily process my gender dysphoria, tokophobia & legitimate anxieties surrounding all of the ways in which people, lobbies & governments outside of myself have attempted to take my reproductive control away from me & condition me to accept such violence as acceptable. I'm just here to have some good, old-fashioned escapist fun, but in light of the current extreme normalization of a return to fascist policy & rhetoric, I want to make my position clear.
If you are anti-choice/pro-forced birth, white/Christian nationalist or racist on any level, misogynistic or gender/bio essentialist, I do not stand with you. I do not agree with you. I do not like you. I do not accept any narrative that you've "won" your 2,000+ year war to dominate & subjugate people & ideologies that oppose your "right" to conquer & exploit.
Hate, ignorance & fear are powerful forces, but I believe that the truth is always stronger & will always prevail in the end, as it always has time & again. You cannot successfully rewrite history & decimate or mentally/culturally conquer everyone who knows better. If you could, you already would have. My existence is a testament to that truth & so is my continued fight. If you already understand this & are also here to have unserious fun, we are on the same side. Remember, pleasure is a right, not a privilege. With that off of my conscience, I'm going to keep on enjoying & exercising said right. Thank you for listening:)
8.10 May I request something really fluffy? Like at first you don’t want kids but then your husband just cums into you and you just roll with it, knowing it makes him happy?
28.11 Request: could someone write some mindbreak stories, please? Like, somebody doesn’t want to be pregnant, but it’s forced on them, and they end up gradually becoming addicted to/horny from the feeling of being massively pregnant.
38.4 Can I request a story with a loving couple female and male giving birth in the bed the baby was made in the male is turned on by the female giving birth
77.5 Can a request a home a birth with wife and husband having sex is what causes Labor and loving husband Helps wife give birth
127.6. Boyfriend gets girlfriend pregnant. They enjoy the changes her body goes through as her belly swells and breasts grow tender and heavy. By the end of her third trimester, girlfriend discovers she loves being so full and heavy with the babies of the man she loves, and wants to be constantly heavily pregnant. By the time she’s holding their first child in her arms and her milk comes in, boyfriend is already getting ready to impregnate her again. Fluffy and loving please :)
You never wanted kids of your own.
Well, not never. It started when you were thirteen. You had just grown into a new young adult body and your eighteen-year-old sister went and got pregnant. Three years of her living in the same house with a newborn, then a toddler, enduring the sound of a small human with no volume control at all hours of the day was not how you imagined your high school years. And it wasn’t even your child. As an adult, you still love your niece with all your heart, but you would never want a child of your own.
In college, you met your future husband, and you were married shortly after. He only ever wanted one child, if any at all. But he admitted that he had a pregnancy fetish, which he always claimed didn’t mean he wanted kids - he liked looking at it, but wasn’t excited about the possibility of actually raising a child.
You two were always very careful about it. You took your pills daily, he always wore condoms. And you weren’t averse to a blowjob or letting him spill himself on your body. In fact, you loved watching what you could do to him, making him explode just with your natural God-given body. Half the time you’d even dress up with a fake belly and really drive him wild. He’d return the favor, too. Sometimes he would feel particularly relentless and you’d cum four, maybe five times before you were literally begging him to let you catch a break.
Location was no object. There wasn’t a single room in your house that hadn’t seen some kind of sexual activity. You still considered your proudest moment to be when you squatted down on him while he was busy changing the oil on your car. Your car wasn’t the only one getting some fluids that day.
Present day.
You’re on a cruise for your fifth anniversary. You splurged and got one of the higher suites. Earlier today he treated you to all kinds of spa treatments, then you both dressed to the nines for formal dining night. Now back in your cabin you stand demurely before him as he slowly slips your dress off your shoulders, letting it pile on the floor around your ankles. His eyes widen as it does; he didn’t notice earlier exactly how sheer the bra was that you had put on underneath the dress.
Of course it’s not going to stay on for long.
You do the rest, unhooking the bra and letting it drop on top of the dress. For the first time he registers that you weren’t wearing any panties all night. You long and ache for this man who has cared for you and your wishes so well over the past five years, just as much as you care for him and his. You don’t want to just fuck and go to sleep. You want passion, but not violence. You want romance and tenderness. You slowly step over to the bed and slip under the covers, making sure he got a good look at you. Come make love to me, you tell him, never mind how cheesy the words sound coming out of you. You made it sound like a desperate plea, which you know he would never be able to refuse. Soon he slides in behind you. You feel him pressed against you as his lips explore your hair, neck, and shoulders.
And then he’s there, in you, thrusting as slowly and tenderly as he can manage, doting on you the whole time. You take the time to enjoy every sensation as your hips roll with his thrusts, your breath comes in bursts. Something about the way the ship smoothly rolls while the two of you move with loving intensity heightens your awareness of everything around you - the way his cock feels inside you, his lips trailing all over your skin, the fingers entwined in your hair, the palm resting on your abdomen. It’s blissful beyond words. You don’t want to give up this moment.
Something nags at your mind and you remember that you didn’t take your pill this morning. You were too excited about the day and because your routine wasn’t normal you totally spaced it. And yet, as you think about it, you think about your husband behind you. How he has so carefully provided for you these last five years. How much he gives for you, and how much you give back, and how well your relationship works, and how it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to make sure these values were passed on. You can’t explain it, but you just can’t tell him about the pill. And you can’t make him stop now. He doesn’t deserve that, you tell yourself. And soon the time for the decision is past anyway as you feel him tense up and unload every drop of fluid he could possibly give you, flooding your body with the possibility of a baby.
You should be panicking, you tell yourself. You don’t want kids. You’re not protected.
True, says the inner response as you press yourself as tightly into him as you can and he tightens his hold around you comfortingly. But maybe… maybe one wouldn’t be so bad. As you move your hand to your belly where his is already resting, you imagine what you’d look like pregnant for real. He already goes wild enough when you fake it. Imagine what he would do to feel the real thing, not fabric, but your own skin stretched over a baby bump..
Are you disappointed or relieved? It’s hard to tell. The idea of having your own children is still very negative. But there’s something about the words “Not Pregnant” on the stick that make it feel… sad.
The missed period was a wakeup call. You almost panicked, rushing to the store to get a test, hoping and praying all the way that it would be negative. You almost couldn’t wait for the timer you set.
And your prayers were answered. Not pregnant.
So why do you feel empty?
Your husband’s at work. He won’t be home for another four hours. You decide to make things really nice for him. And when it’s time for him to leave the office, the house is sparkling clean. You’ve put on a fake belly for him, then your (well, his) favorite black dress over it. It’s his favorite because it emphasizes your figure so well, and it allows you to take your boobs out and just let them breathe. Or let them drive him wild. Whatever.
When he gets home, he barely has time to say hello before he sees your pregnancy figure advancing toward him, you pressing your lips against his as your hands fumble with his belt and pull out his hardening cock. You step back, stroking his cock on your belly, never mind the dress being there, you know it’s the shape that turns him on. And you want to look at his eyes, but your gaze is drawn to the appendage you’re holding in your hand, the power that it has to make your body transform into this for real. And you say things to him, affirmations, things like how he wants to have a pregnant wife, how he loves filling you up and imagining the result. It’s not long before his cum is shooting out of him, hitting the underside of your breasts, dripping and pooling all over your dress, a dead giveaway to the arousal that your pregnant look causes him.
The next morning you completely disregard your pills.
That night he takes you out, fancy dinner, live theater instead of a movie. The whole time in the car his hand is either on the steering wheel or venturing between your legs. There is no in between. You’re pretty sure the driver next to you at that red light saw when you were cumming at your husband’s relentless touch, but who cares - you’ll probably never see him again.
By the time the evening is over and you arrive back at home, you’re a quivering, dripping mess. You’ve been glancing at him on the drive home and you can see how desperate he is for a release, and you are going to give it to him. You walk into the house and don’t even make it through the kitchen. The arousal has taken you over, you have to breed now. You stop at the kitchen sink and flip your dress up, wordlessly begging him to take you. And he gets the message. All you hear is his belt and zipper, barely enough time for him to take his cock out of his pants before it is inside you, thrusting as hard as you could ever imagine. You push back on him, encouraging him to go as deep as possible, as you put your fingers on your clit and try to tease yourself up to the brink, holding off so you can cum with him. It only takes a minute before he unloads inside of you, and you make that one last push to send yourself into an orgasm that wracks your body with pleasurable spasms. Your knees go weak and you drop, making him fall out of you and empty a couple of last spurts on your dress.
But it was enough. You felt your cervix pulsing, drawing in his semen, trying to make a baby. Even with some of it dripping out of your hungry hole, you know the instincts worked. You’re in heat, badly wanting his baby. And you still haven’t told him it’s for real.
Every morning after, if you wake up before him, you start with waking up his cock and then riding him to completion. And if he’s awake first, you present yourself to him and let him fill you. It’s the same almost every night. You hardly ever start or end your day without his cum inside you. He still doesn’t know it’s on purpose. The first time after you stopped the pills when he calls you his breeding slut, you cum instantly, because now you know it’s true instead of just play.
There aren’t any more periods after that. Soon the stick says “Pregnant,” and keeps doing so every time you try that week. And you still don’t tell him. When the morning sickness starts, however, he puts two and two together - the pills still in the medicine cabinet, the eagerness for sex, the sickness without fever. He pulls you aside. “I think someone’s pregnant.” “Yes, sir, she is,” you reply.
Your routine hardly changes over the next few weeks, except now every day he’s feeling your belly, trying to catch the first time that it feels firmer, confirming that his baby is inside you. On that first day, he takes the day off, spending the entire day naked with you at home, insisting on cumming in and on you at every opportunity.
Then you start to show, and your rounding belly is now his favorite thing about you. He can’t keep his hands off of it, caressing your body, keeping a protective hand on you, using your bump for leverage when you fuck. His cum starts landing on your belly more often than anywhere else, if he’s not emptying himself into your already full womb. And your breasts, swelling and heavier as they prepare your milk, his eyes are on them more than your face when he talks to you. Through it all, he still treats you like a prize, making sure you’re taken care of before anything else, the loving husband you dreamed about as a girl.
The gender ultrasound says it’s a girl. You’re both ecstatic, not that you didn’t want a boy, but now you know how to shop. During the baby shopping spree, he also buys you maternity dresses, dresses designed to enhance the bump and pull down for breast access. That last feature is supposed to be for relief rather than pleasure, but you know what he wants it for.
And then she starts moving inside you, first only for you to feel, then for him. The entire experience is enough to set you off, giddy like a… well, like a new mother. The movements inside you, especially the ones that he can see pushing out from your belly, are a whole-new turn-on for him. You’re not safe anywhere in your own house, he could be horny at any moment and desperate to use his wife to get off, and you’re all too eager to roll with it. You dress up and doll up for him. You sit like an ornament for him as he puts the nursery furniture together. You send him naughty messages and pictures at work, even a couple of videos of you reaching around your big belly to masturbate. Every night you fall asleep with his mouth on your nipples and his hand on your belly. By the time you’re full term, there’s not a room in your house that hasn’t seen sex, no part of your body that hasn’t been cummed on.
A sadness sets in. You don’t want it to end.
You always planned for a homebirth. Hospitals stress you out. Thinking about birthing in the same bed the baby was conceived in, it all feels like it’s coming full circle, and you’re as excited about that as you are disappointed that you won’t be pregnant anymore. As your due date approaches, you ask a favor. No more animalistic fucking. Just love and tenderness. Your body is still his, but you want to slow down and feel all of the attention, really concentrate on it and feel the bond between two lovers and parents, united by the baby she will soon bear.
You start feeling the first real contractions three days past your due date. They wake you in the early morning hours just before sunrise. A hand goes to your belly and you hold it there with a contented sigh. And you lie there for a while, timing the contractions, making sure they’re the real thing before you roll over (with difficulty) to face your husband and try to nudge him awake. No response. He’s facing you, though, so you have other options. Shifting up slightly, you take a breast and guide the nipple to his mouth. It only takes a few seconds before he starts licking and sucking on it in his sleep. That stimulates a reaction below his waist and you wrap your hand around it, gently stroking as he slowly wakes up and realizes what’s going on.
You tell him it’s time and he’s instantly alert and panicking, but you slow him down. “Shh,” you say. “It’s still early. Just lie here with me. Let’s enjoy the next few hours together.”
The two of you snuggle up together and he rubs your belly as you labor. Soon you know you need something more, something to take away from the growing discomfort, and you ask him to make love to you, to enjoy his pregnant wife one more time. “But don’t cum yet,” you say. “I want to feel you in me as long as I can. Let me feel how you made this baby inside me before I birth her for you.”
And just like that, he’s slipping inside you, gently pushing in and pulling out, giving you something else to focus on instead of the contractions. His hands massage your breasts, you push them forward into his palms. “Don’t stop,” you breathe. “Please don’t stop.”
After a couple of hours, he can’t contain himself, and he empties himself into you one last time. A few minutes later you feel a rush of fluid the other way as your water breaks. The next three hours are almost unbearable, but he’s right there by your side. You asked him for an intimate setting. You both agreed to a fully nude birth with each other, nothing hidden, just the two of you sharing your love of each other while you bring forth the third that you created together. You realize eventually that he’s aroused by the process, watching your belly contract, hearing your groans as the muscles tighten. “Touch me,” you say. “I want to cum.”
His fingers find their mark, and in a few minutes you’re descending into a world of pleasure. “Stop,” you say, “wait, there’s another one coming soon.” As the contraction builds, you tell him “now,” and he furiously strokes your clit to orgasm as the contraction peaks and you ride both sensations through to the end, breathing hard as you relax and the orgasm subsides.
Your body naturally tells you when to push. He tells you that the baby’s coming after only the first one, holding a mirror for you so you can see the head starting to show through your parting vagina. His hand is still on top, finger resting on your sensitive little bud, his cock growing harder as he watches the progress.
“You like watching me birth?” you ask.
“Yeah.”
“You want me to do it again for you?”
“I think so.”
“Don’t let me stand in your way. Making this baby for you has been one of the most erotic things I’ve ever experienced. Please don’t let this be our last.”
“I won’t.”
“You can breed me again whenever you want.” You take a deep breath, another contraction approaching. “Keep rubbing me. I want to see if I can cum her out.”
His hand immediately gets to work again. You watch and feel it as your daughter’s head pushes you apart. It doesn’t look like you can take anymore, but the lips keep stretching, almost to a perfect circle. The pressure on your clit is mounting too. “Almost there,” you assure him, “keep going.”
The ring of fire builds, but the oncoming orgasm keeps it at bay. As he finally helps you hit that magic point, your baby’s head pops out, then the continued rush of the contraction pushes the rest of her body forward, and soon you’re gathering her up and resting her on your chest. She may be covered in blood and fluids, but that doesn’t matter. She’s here, she’s beautiful, and she’s yours.
Your husband eventually cuts the cord and attends as the placenta slides out. As your daughter takes her first drops from your aching breast, you catch his eye. His hand is on his cock, looking like he’s holding back.
“I did say whenever you want,” you remind him, and he quickly scoots forward to cum inside you again before resting next to you, sharing your first calm moments as a family of three.
You didn’t know that letting him cum in you would be the last decision you ever made for yourself, but you know now that it was the best decision you ever made.
You should suffer for your sin. I will make your belly grow inhumanly big. It’s what you deserve. So huge you become a mass of pregnant belly and nothing more.
something about the unplannedness of it makes me think i’ll be able to get away with only a small belly and an easy birth. only couples who really want a baby would have triplets… right? wrong!
at five months i look full term and can hardly waddle. even without a doctor visit i know its more than one. i spend all day with one hand on the underside of my massive belly, heaving myself around my moms trailer. my mom asks me every day who the father is and i tell her its none of her business, the truth is that i dont know his name.
growing up i thought pregnancy was something sacred “when a man and woman love each other” and all that. maybe they were right because this feels like a punishment for not abiding by the rules.
once i reach nine months i’ve been overtaken by my huge belly, it writhes all day and night, babies kicking all over. when i place a hand on it i feel like it’s something more than myself, a being sent to belittle me, rather than something that grew from me.
Do you remember the day you sent me that message, propositioning a stranger on the internet in a moment of lust-filled weakness? I bet you were stuffing a hand into your underwear the moment you clicked 'Send', feeling your body grow feverishly hot at the thought of me filling your womb and knocking you up.
You didn't really expect me to respond, did you?
And you sure as hell didn't expect me to flirtatiously reply, stroking your ego and teasing you until you could barely think, until finally suggesting a place where we could meet.
That's how you ended up on your back in a seedy hotel room, moaning and clawing at my shoulders when I finally bottomed out in your tight hole. I'll never forget the way you clung to me, one moment babbling about how you shouldn't be having sex during such a dangerous time in your cycle and the next begging me to spill inside of your fertile body. You stared up at me with sex-blown pupils as I held you down and started fucking you even harder, not even knowing what name to call out in your pleasured frenzy.
I told you that I'd pump you full of my seed. That you'd walk out of there with my baby already growing in your belly. That you'd never see me again, even after your womb began to swell with my child.
Heels skittering frantically up the back of my thighs, you wrapped those slutty legs around my waist and hung on for dear life, mindlessly eager to be pounded into that mattress.
I growled out that you'd get huge. That that anyone who looked at you would know what you did. And that you wouldn't ever know who really knocked up your sloppy hole.
Your eyes rolled back in your head and you came hard all over my cock. And it didn't take me long to follow you, pouring a hot load deep into your fertile womb.
I'll be deleting my account as soon as I've abandoned you in the messy afterglow, leaving you with no way to contact me again. I can't wait to follow you from a new account and watch the consequences of this ill-advised quickie ruin your figure over the next nine months.
thinking about meeting you at a bar, having an amazing one night stand with you, and then leaving with no intention of seeing you again… but several months later, at a different bar, i see you across the room, and get a full view of the impact i’ve had on your body.
my belly is peeking through a shirt i’ve only managed to button half way down and i have a beer in the hand that’s not rubbing my swollen middle.
you’ve heard enough about me to know i’m not exactly particular about guys, so there’s a chance it’s not yours but a gut feeling tells you it is. you remember that night in the men’s room at the bar downtown, fucking me up against a stall door and leaving your cum dripping from my pretty cunt. you hadn’t thought much about it since then but every down and again my body would coney to you while you got off.
and now, six months later, you watch me talk to the bar tender as i lean over the bar and stick my ass in the air, belly pressed against the wood. completely mesmerised by me you can’t help but walk over.
why did I let myself get creampied by all those fucking people? why was I such a slut-- I knew I could get pregnant and i did it anyway and now I'm having another baby and I dont know who did this to me
the moments of dread a where i’m in bed looking at my huge, taut belly and i realise what i’ve done. what i’ve let happen because i’m too fucking slutty to stop it.
i text my friends all week about this guy, how he’s so sweet but also so hot and oh my god look at his instagram, i need him! all week we interpret his messages and talk about if i should put out. we agree no but when i see him i know i would bend over for him next to a dumpster.
we go a to my place after only one drink and he gives it to me over and over again.
i asked him to wear a condom but gave in the second he said he didn’t want to. by the time he leaves my pussy is full of his cum, i can still feel it inside me and i go to bed smiling so hard it hurts.
when i wake up and try and text him, i see that he’s blocked me. same on the dating app. his instagram is completely gone. what the fuck?
i spend the next few weeks crying into ice cream and watching romcoms. such a cliche. my friends eventually get sick of it and i get it out of my system.
then, the test. fuck.
it could only be him.
months go by and i still can’t contact him anywhere. it’s like he never existed. the only evidence of him is my ballooning womb.
it’s twins. big ones. because of course it is, the twisted hands of fate couldn’t let it just be one. couldn’t let it be easy.
so now here i am. huge belly that takes up my whole lap, stretched and distorted. his babies kicking inside me, a constant reminder of how stupid and slutty i am.
i rub the stretched skin of my pregnant stomach and feel my pussy throb thinking about that night. when he doomed me to this fate and nothing about his life changed at all.
i never want to truly be pregnant or gain weight in an irreversible way, but once i find a partner who im comfy enough to tell about my breeding kink everything changes.
they tell me how their family is full of sets of twins and we spend the entire time im ovulating in bed together.
it shouldn't be a surprise that in just a few weeks i realize im pregnant. despite my childless desires something keeps me from doing anything about it. everything happens for a reason right?
i start showing almost immediately. my belly starts poking out and i notice my boobs are extra sensitive. i try to ignore the fact none of my bras feel right for too long, until one of them finally snaps from the pressure.
my hips widen too. at first i wonder why they could possibly be getting so much girth but as the weeks pass i realize my body is preparing me for a massive load.
my ass and thighs get bigger too, something my partner thoroughly enjoys. i find i don't mind it either as i ride them, my plush ass cheeks giving me a seat to watch as my belly moves with each thrust.
when we go in to learn the gender, we learn its a girl, but we learn its two boys as well.
as i get into the car as we head home, the weight of our actions fully sinks in. literally.
"how's that possible? i know your family has lots of twins but triplets? in me?"
my partner gives my belly a tender rub as he explains it was two eggs and one of them split off into two as well. i groan thinking of just how much bigger i will get in the next few months.
i get bigger gradually, growing out of my clothes and finding more mundane tasks difficult to do now. i can't put on my socks easily, i have to reach further to wash dishes and getting into the car becomes a herculean task.
as the months pass, the brood inside me becomes much more active, kicking and stretching throughout each day. some times i just sit and watch as they jostle my midsection while other times i try everything in my power to get them to rest.
doctors appointments come and go, with my doc telling me my babies are measuring big for their age and my size. my belly juts out in front of me everywhere i go, i'm not sure how i can get much bigger.
i assumed with multiples i would have a premature birth, but as the months creep along, i continue to expand in size. i never thought i would feel so full. i ache and groan with the weight i waddle around with. my skin is stretched to the max and my deep innie belly button popped long ago to reveal itself to all.
despite my initial childless desires i find myself eager to nurture the growing babies inside of me. i eat more throughout the day, striving to give them all the energy they need to grow big and strong. and they have. they sit restlessly inside me, fighting each other for room while i fight to walk from room to room.
i rub lotion across the expanse of my belly, finding it difficult to reach the underside - i have to ask my partner to do it. they love to help, using the intimate task to get me wet and needy.
soon enough i'm bent over a couch, feeling them pound into me, jostling everything. i'm so heavy i can barely match their thrusts but my babies move erratically, filling my entire body with a flood of ecstasy.
when i finally come i feel a rush of relief.
"um babe?"
i look below me to see a puddle forming on the ground. oh. my water broke.
i keep reminding myself that this is what i wanted. when i fucked all those guys the best part was letting them cum inside me thinking my birth control would protect me. it was supposed to be fun and horny, not this. not growing a strangers babies inside me, getting bigger and bigger every day until i realised it had gone to far and that it was to late.
at eight months i’m so inconceivably huge that all i do is sit on my couch rubbing my massive belly, and pray that i don’t get any bigger.
i like to imagine someone knocking me up on a club dance floor. grinding that goes too far and before i can think twice he’s cum inside me and it’s dripping down my bare legs. i pull my skirt back down and look around to check that no one noticed. it seems inconsequential at the time but eight months later i’ve ballooned with the memory of that night. my huge belly the only sign that what happened was real.
i should have known that being lazy with my birth control was a bad idea but it didn’t feel like something that could happen to me.
i think i knew before i even took the test. i’d put it off long enough that i was already showing a little by the time i took it.
from there i just got bigger and bigger and at my first ultrasound at five months (i’d put it off as long as i could) they told me i was pregnant with twins. two babies in my petite body. i was absolutely wrecked.
now overdue i feel completely full, like my belly couldn’t possibly stretch any further; i suppose i’ve felt that way since about month seven. there’s nothing to do but wait now. i sit and rub my tight, swollen, belly waiting desperately for the first contraction to hit so i can push out a strangers huge babies and get on with my life.
my belly is so unbearably big now. god, why did you have to give me twins? i’m so uncomfortable and swollen and it’s all your fault. it’s not even done growing yet. it’s only going to get bigger, my skin is going to stretch tighter and tighter.
You answer your own question. To see those moments when the baby just won't stop kicking, and you're crying because you just want to go to sleep. The moments you fight back panic as a birth scene plays on the TV. Watching you waddle around down, legs and back aching, your hips sore from how they've widened.
And those moments when we meet up and you tell me those beautiful words. Tears swimming in your eyes. "I can't believe you did this to me. This is all your fault." The absolute truth of your words making me ache with desire.
Just getting the joy of watching you grow, knowing you have months more. The strechmarks clawing over your firm, smooth bump. Your bellybutton becoming a prominent outie, your skin bulging as the little burdens I carelessly, recklessly planted inside you kick constantly.
All leading to the moment I've craved since that first time. The panic in your eyes as you realize you're in labor. Getting to assure you an ambulance is on the way even though I never called them.
Nobody here but you and me as you begin moaning that the contractions are so strong, the pressure unbearable. Groaning that you think you need to push... That you're fighting it, you don't want them at all, let alone here, like this, just the two of us... But I know it's inevitable. Telling you how beautiful you are as you cry out with effort and pain, seeing your whole beautiful body tense and strain as the head moves down. As your pussy bulges.
As your lips part.
As just the first of your two babies, the ones I forced you to make, begins to crown.
after i have them i’ll never let you fuck me again and you know it, but you can’t resist the urge to knock me up can you? so you drug me and fuck me until my hole is wide and dripping with your seed. you leave me there and immediately when i wake up i know you did this.
this time you watch me swell up from a distance, knowing i would lash out or call the police if you got too close but a few months into the pregnancy you know i’m worn down enough that i won’t even bother to push you away. it’s triplets this time, because you always win.
the hottest thing about getting pregnant is the thought that your body will helplessly grow no matter what and you can’t stop it~
even better is having a partner that is so enamoured by how big you’re getting that they completely obsess over you. Constantly grabbing your big tight belly and telling you how much more you have to grow~
It was only a prank, a harmless little joke. All you did was swap your roommate's birth control out for fake ones. Now she's standing in the doorway 7 weeks along watching her boyfriend fuck you into the mattress. How's this for a little prank hmmm? Meanwhile your eyes are rolling back in your head as you feel him plowing into your fertile womb. Filling you while you take in every last drop.
while her womb swells all she’ll be able to think about is how this is al my fault, all because she crossed me. i told her i don’t play around, that i’m cut throat, but she didn’t take me seriously and now she’s paying the price.
she’s not showing yet as she stands in the doorway watching us but some day soon she will be. i will be too. and she’ll have to sit and watch her boyfriend fuck her roommate, while her hands caress her pregnant belly. the baby in her won’t mean anything if i have one too. she’s not special.
⁂𝓓ℴ𝓁𝓁❀𝓟𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓈⁂ @fvckmewhenimded - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
