Hmm… Magic soulmates universe where you conceive the moment you meet your soulmate, and give birth when you get together.
Pairs that hit it off and instantly know the other is “the one” will go through rapid pregnancies. They might sit down at the beginning of a date feeling normal, then suddenly get a little nauseous from the smell of the restaurant and begin to feel tenderness in the chest. A game of chicken starts, each realizing what’s happening to themselves but waiting to see the other’s silhouette begin to round before they say anything. Electric energy builds as they linger over the half-eaten entrees that wouldn’t fit in their suddenly very full bellies anyway, knowing that if they act on their desire to fall into bed together, they might not have time to finish before they have to push.
Maybe there’s a “straight” guy who has a years-long pregnancy, mistaking it for average gradual weight gain until he starts to feel small kicks within. He tries to think of anyone new he’s met recently, but can’t come up with anything. Then the next time he hangs out with his best bro, he notices bro’s shirt is clinging to his belly, and he’s so puffy in the chest that his areola show through his shirt, to say nothing of his thickened nipples. But his soulmate can’t be his bro… that’s gay! He continues to deny it, even as his body grows weary and slow from years of carrying. It’s only the weeks of active labor that finally bring them together, clutching each others’ hands tightly and sharing shaky first kisses between pushes.
There are people who reject the idea of soul mates, and choose to be with someone else. The decision doesn’t seem so drastic at first, even when they start to show. These pregnancies progress so slowly and the symptoms are so mild that it might seem like there are no consequences for their departure from the customs… until they’re well into middle-age and realizing that they’re going to spend the rest of their life in the third trimester of pregnancy. Elderly people with a backs bent by past-due bellies might be seen as admirably principled, or too stubborn, or even as romantic, if they‘ve spent their years with someone who isn’t their soul mate.
A woman might worry that the person she’s attracted to is meant for someone else since they have a big pregnant belly and she’s flat as a board. She decides to be there for them even if it hurts, and attributes her own cramping stomach to the emotional turmoil of her unrequited love. She doesn’t understand why the pain is getting so bad until her body starts sending her strange signals, and she finds herself squatting down and pushing alongside her love.
Of course, soul mates aren’t as simple as one for each person, either. Most people have more than one soul mate!
For a polyamorous person, the births become more complicated. One pregnancy might start or end on top of another, such as a person carrying multiple steadily growing babies in their belly while they foster slower-burning connections, then meeting someone who moves faster and suddenly ballooning up with an additional baby. It’s exhausting to give birth to a 10lb singleton while second-trimester triplets remain unmoved in their womb, but luckily, they have many hands to help.
In monogamous relationships, multiple soulmates aren’t so easy to digest. A happy marriage can be ruined by one person’s belly slowly beginning to round out. This can be especially complicated in cases of infidelity. Many a cheating partner has struggled to conceal their pregnancy or pass it off as weight gain, only to be shamefully discovered with their new lover’s child halfway out of them.
A fraught will-they-won’t-they relationship might be the most unpleasant of all, the troubled couples’ bellies swelling to full term within days or weeks, only for birth to elude them. They might go into labor more than once, or endure prolonged, useless labors, groaning with contractions even as they play emotional games. An unsure lover can inhibit delivery even up to the final moments, with denied feelings or cold feet leaving someone’s poor hole stuck at a quivering crown.
A syrup that triggers the body to form a few eggs so that a couple can do oviplay organically but it works quickly so your partner ties you to the bed first, legs and arms spread. The instructions say to take about 15 ml and that was what was agreed upon but after you can no longer move, they chug the entire bottle. They sit by your head and let you listen to it work their insides, gurgling in their stomach and bloating them with ever increasing amount of spawn. After only a few minutes theyre moaning with discomfort as the egg sac inside starts to push on their organs and weigh down their stomach. Frantically they push their dripping ovipositor inside you and almost immediately loose a burst of eggs and then another, barely having time to breathe in between. Already you're full up and shaking, about to cum . There was never supposed to be more but your partner groans and burps and rubs their tummy as the eggs continue to form inside them. Each load balloons your belly farther than you thought it would go until you're forcibly birthing them out just to make room.
A little werefox screaming and writhing as he pushes on the alpha werewolf’s pups. They’re way too big for him, he knew his love affair had gone too far when he started to swell, but his alpha will be so happy if he can just whelp this litter….
Look at the size of that man compared to his poor, laboring partner. I bet he put a 12 pounder in her belly that she’s now really struggling to get out.
Im so fucking big. This is one of the few clothes that still fit me, and I have one week left until my due date. I can't see my swollen feet anymore, nor anything below my belly. I'm literally bursting; I'm extremely swollen and constricted. I can't walk or get up on my own anymore. I spend all day lying down, eating and rubbing this huge, stretched belly to its limit. My belly skin hurts, and my ankles are so swollen and painful that I walk waddling like a pregnant cow. I need to pop, my goshhhh please.
You heard weird moans at night coming from my bedroom. When you enter, you find me entirely naked and laid on my back with my legs spread. You had no idea I was pregnant. I hid it so well. My belly is round. I am sweating. My pubic area is swollen. The baby's head must be very close. My labias as puffy and flushed. My hands close up in fists on the sheets as I moan. My vulva bugles and my labias stretch just a little. I give a big push. My eyebrows crunch. I raise my knees and bring my chin to my chest. "Gggnnnnnnn" My vagina opens up. I am close to crowning but I fall back on the bed with exhaustion and the head slides back in. "What are you doing here ?" I would ask, panicked, as I can't hide or run away with a baby's head between my legs.
the thought of being trapped in a pregnancy, having to push out a baby you never wanted to have. "no please, no please not like this. please I don't want to be a mother, I don't want to give birth" having so many people watch you scream out a baby you hated growing only to congratulate you on a motherhood you resented
Okay but here me out, credits to @avillicit for their posts but: consider smuggling & rapid pregnancy.
You're the best of the best when it comes to getting something illegal across lines, your record is fantastic, youre making a ton of money off of every drop, and you're on the top of your game. Unfortunately though, you're also a massive fugitive almost anywhere you go. This is the toughest job youve ever had to do, and you're anxious. Your partners come up to you with a job proposal; you're going to be smuggling some sort of illegal monster eggs across the country. It sounds easy enough, but no dice. The eggs are temperamental, they're easily cracked, need to be somewhere damn, and at almost EXACTLY human body temperature, so yeah. At first its a giant fuck no to the job, but then one of your partners flashes you the amount you'll be making off of it, and lets just say- you'll never have to work again if you do this.
It was certainly not going to be an easy job, from start to finish. They were small, and blue almost like egg shaped marbles. Your partners took turns filling you up, you on your hands and knees on a hotel bed, huffing as they continued to shove at least sixty tiny eggs into your body. They didnt feel like much at first, but whenever you shifted, you could feel the whole lot clacking around inside of you, which led to a bit of unspoken horny embarrassment.
After what seemed like forever, you were the fullest youve ever been, and to top it all off by plugging you up so none of them would spill out on the drive there. You stood up, stifling a soft moan as you insisted on making your way to the car. It was barely noticable through your thick, roomy flannel shirt but you could certainly tell what was in you. Due to the plug and dedicated carefulness, you developed a slight waddle which your parents teased you about before you told them to shut up. Carefully, you lowered yourself into the back seat of the truck, holding your belly to make sure nothing got damaged.
The ride was fine at first, as you were used to traversing long distances with your line of work, but after the first hour or so, things began to feel... different. You could've sworn you felt more full than you did as you were leaving. You softly groaned, the discomfort growing as did your abdomen over the course of the ride, you could easily pass for someone nearing the middle of their second trimester. Worried, you brought it up to your partners, and they explained how the eggs had been preserved, and that the human body was the perfect environment for the eggs to rehydrate. After threatening a bit of violence, an apology from them and a stifled moan, you were reminded of the money, which calmed things down.
It had been hours now, at least three, and the growth wasn't stopping yet. Every ten minutes, or bump hit on the road illicited another groan or rub of your belly. At this point you looked almost full term with a single human child, which was starting to concern you. Your shirt was pulled taught against your massive abdomen, straining the buttons to their limit, small diamonds of flesh in between each clasp. You, albeit worried, kept your calm, rubbing your massive middle as you shifted around your plug, the slight stimulation doing wonders for the discomfort. What your partner failed to mention was the compounds in the eggs that would produce a mild aphrodisiac, there to keep the pregnant person placated while they carried. Usually the species carried five or ten, so sixty was doing things to your mind.
Five hours in, you all reached your first checkpoint. Getting pulled over and checked was never fun, and being this huge would make an escape damn near impossible. Luckily for you, the feds took one look at your massive form and just wanted to chat about when you were due, how many you were having, names, blah blah blah. You answered their dumb questions, eager to get away, but you had to play it cool. You thought one of them noticed thar you were getting bigger by the minute, but they chose not to comment on it. You bit your lip, horny, anxious, and impatient as one of your partners reached back to rub your tight belly, giving you momentary relief. Luckily you were all let go. You bounced on your plug, trying to at least work out the frustration that had built while you were being watched, god knows you couldn't reach around to touch yourself now with how massive you were getting.
The ride continued, and so did your growth. By now you were stretched out across the back seat, grunting and moaning whenever a wave of growth hit you, you didn't care about your partners hearing you, or seeing what was becoming of you now, you had half a mind to beg one of them to come back there and fuck you until you popped. But, you settled for humping your plug and rubbing your thumb over your popped navel. Your flannel was long since ruined, only buttoned over your chest to give you more room to grow. At this point you looked like you could pop out triplets or quads if you gave a miniscule push, but the eggs weren't ready yet, and you weren't where you needed to be, and sure as hell you weren't risking losing all of that money. So you sat, huffing and straining and growing, looking at the gps time getting closer to your arrival.
Things were fine for a bit, sure you looked like you were due with quints, but you were so concerned with how horny you were, you barely noticed. After a few pitstops you were almost there, and you couldn't be more ready to pop these things out. They were easily each the size of tennis balls by now, and you could feel them individually move when you bucked your hips ever so slightly. You moaned out, rubbing your sides as the ride continued, cursing and grunting as your sheer mass and the old road moved you on your plug. You were so close now, just a few more thrusts and you'd at least be able to cum. With a few deep breaths and slow movements, you thought you were going blind, until a sudden gush interrupted your thoughts. Fuck, your water broke. You shouted out to your partners, warning them, to which they told you that they could hear it happen from there. You were done. You were pushing, NOW. Bearing down, you held the sides of your enormous middle, pushing the eggs down, down into your canal, only to remember the plug. Gasping and groaning, you alnost sobbed. You were stuck. And there was no way you were getting them out, there was no way you'd be able to reach down there with as big and heavy as you were. Your partner in the passenger seat reached back, rubbing your belly and shushing you, trying to keep you calm. You closed your eyes and bit your lip, horny and contracting as your rubbed your pregnant swell.
You look wide eyed at the notification on your med watch. You've been picked. You are pregnant. It was insanely lucky that you'd nearly managed to go a few years after graduation without getting chosen. One of your old high school friends got raffled the day after and raffled again the following month. Now it is your turn.
-1st Phase-
History books said that, at one relatively small time, the raffle was met with fury. Each month was a new protest filled with the rapidly impregnated. Now everyone begrudgingly accepted it as a part of life in the chrome future everyone's great great grandparents fantasized about. You press a finger below your navel. It was already firm to the touch and your nipples itched against the fabric of your sleep shirt.
You were automatically cleared from work for the day so there was no need to rush out and do anything. Your objective today was to relax and do your singular task.
You decide to get a shower–a simple anti-bacteria spray down and think about the most important part of this day. The birth. A younger person, without someone to advise them correctly, would think that going to one of the city hospitals would be the safest and best option. But you knew better. There were stories of ambulance c-sections with minimal anesthesia and hospitals practically restraining birthers in unrelenting binds and stirrups. Even in facilities they gave very little time to actually push before they enforced an extraction protocol. Medical staff were trained to be fully optimized toward a healthy delivery for the child. The only good choice was deciding to go it alone.
Upon finishing your shower, you stopped in front of your mirror. A pouch of a belly, big enough to cup beneath your palm has grown on you. You can’t imagine it taking weeks of time just to get a little bump like this. Some books say pregnancy used to take an entire 40 weeks. Thank goodness for optimization.
If you were going to do this in your apartment, you'd need supplies. You put on some sweatpants, a loose T-shirt and head out of your apartment.
The Mag-lev train, one of the best benefits of this present, is packed full with people. The vibe is different than normal. A young couple looking naively excited. A woman with a baby barely a year old idly massaged the base of her belly with an exhausted look in her eyes. This was raffle day.
You procure over the counter grade stim packs only good for minor cuts, antibacterial salves, bandages, a basket big enough to be a bassinet, meal kits to ease your cravings. Hopefully that would be enough, because that is all you can afford. You spend a bit too much time trying to navigate the sparsely stocked and overcrowded baby area and only make it out with a few items of need.
The attendant looks to your midsection. “Won the raffle, huh? Good luck, I heard they've been making some rough ones.”
They send you on your way, but that comment and obvious stare make you look down to your bump.
You see that your shirt has noticeably pushed forward in the hour of shopping. The bump looks bigger than any of the average diagrams you looked at in the past. The band of your sweat pants were already starting to dip below your waist. Time was ticking towards the inevitable.
-2nd phase-
By the time you return to your apartment your belly has become obvious. The shirt is tight against your skin, your sweats require constant adjustment. You look undeniably pregnant.
You rush to get everything you purchased set and ready. Medical supplies in the bathroom, bassinet close by, clean cloth laid and ready. Each passing moment you feel your shirt get a little tighter around your growing breasts and begin to ride a little higher over the large belly you are growing.
If you lingered for too long you could feel it, you could see it. The stretching of your skin, the movements of your baby becoming subtly stronger. You can see a line slowly darkening across your middle and through your ever swallowing belly button.
One moment amidst your preparation you pass a glance at the mirror. The waistband of your sweats has fully dipped below your waistline, cradling the underbelly of your bump. Movement slides beneath your barely visible belly button as you stare wide-eyed at your mirrored image. You look full term and you still have an entire phase left to go.
-3rd Phase-
Walking is impossible. The sheer mass of your belly weighing on your hips has thrown your center of gravity off so much you can barely take a step without needing to brace against a wall. All you can do is lay down and watch your massive belly somehow exceed its limit and read up on the dozens of things that could go wrong. You count yourself lucky that you got everything you needed ready before you got this massive.
A throbbing pain goes through your chest as you watch an archived birth video. Your breasts have become engorged to the point a shirt couldn't contain them and now were just a touch away from leaking. You twist slowly off your bed and arduously waddle to your bathroom using the little furniture you have as handholds to keep balance, the weight of the massive baby sitting in your hips and lean over the sink. With barely a touch your tits start expressing.
Relief happens before you're awed by your own body. Your belly is pointed out into a cone shape with your darkened belly button as its point. The skin of your belly is a map of veins and from your underbelly to your hips you have deep stretchmarks. Before your eyes, you see the weight of your belly shifted down, your ease of breathing returns but in that same instant a large, solid object jams its way into the bowl of your hips.
You moan softly, then it turns into a pained groan. The muscles in your abdomen and back tense. Your knees hinge and one hand springs to the taut surface of your bump.
The first of many contractions takes your body. Not long now.
-The Final Moments-
Your heavy belly heaves as you breathe through a contraction. Your voice is a bellow of pain and fear. The contraction you felt earlier was merely a braxton hicks and your pregnancy was not yet done with you. Another half hour of growing made your belly elongate and droop further beneath your hip line. Your bump looks like it didn't even exist as a part of your body anymore.
The labor pains were as rapid as the pregnancy. The contractions come with such frequency that you can't catch your bearings long enough to check yourself and forcing your fingers into your contracting canal makes you see stars.
Head buried into the crook of your arm, you moan, curse and rock on your knees on the bathroom floor. The pressure mounts deep behind your cervix and you feel a mass pass through its rapidly dilating flesh. A pop of fluid hits your thighs and underbelly. Relief from that pressure is fleeting; the giant baby surges against your cervix without pause.
The next contraction, you bear down. Desperation to get it out already controls your actions. Your belly turns into a different abnormal shape with every push and contraction.
The process was too slow and yet too fast. The contractions start to outpace the time you need to recover from pushing out a baby that barely moved past your cervix. Each one felt like a hand was reaching through you and pulling the baby forcefully from your womb. You sputter and gasp as a contraction forces the massive stone of a head against your cervix. It opens wider and wider, but it's only barely able to compensate for the speed of the labor and size of the baby.
The time between spasms shortens again and again until you feel your canal full and the distinct pressure of your labia beginning to bulge. Between heaving breaths, you reach a hand to your crotch.
The teardrop transformed into a massive “O” shape against your palm within seconds.
Your body doesn't care if it breaks, it only wants the baby out. You keep your palm against the wide crown, head thrown back, hips straining and rotating in an attempt to escape the burn and pressure, the sides of your belly compress into a hot, hardened mass of skin.
A primal moan rumbles from deep within. The skin of your labia opens wide and forward, clinging to the head. You pray you don't tear, you beg your body to be more resilient. You begin to understand why people would beg for the scalpel and a quick end.You rock back into the pressure with a screech as the constant contraction rises to its peak and forces the head out of the grip of your flesh. The shoulders and torso slide out of your now shaking body and into your singular wait palm.
Loud gasps and cries echo from your and your baby. You crawl to the wall of your bathroom, baby in hand, and sit up steady. Your crotch is burning sore and throbbing from the abuse it was put through. The baby wept in your hands as it lay against your chest and swollen belly.
Now all you need to do is wait for the placenta. That is what you think. The next contraction isn't subtle or a firm pressure– it doubles you over.
You cry out, clutching your still rounded bump. A trill of movement shifts against the taut skin below your belly button. A second baby pressed on your cervix. Your body doesn't give you the chance to panic before another contraction hits you and you're brought back to the same cycle. Twins weren't supposed to happen with this system. The government assured it wouldn't happen. The facts don't matter now, this is happening. The invisible grasp that pulled on your first shoved into you to start its efforts again. But this time you feel none of the rapid progress.
You push. Nothing moves. You push again. Nothing. The veins and muscles in your neck strain as you scream. Only the feeling of the bowl of your pelvis opening as wide as it could and letting nothing through follows. Your breath hitches, panic rising in your chest. It should be well into your canal by now, but you can still feel the large child in you. You move a hand to the base of your belly and press. Your eyes go wide and the bathroom echoes with your voice whimpering “no”.
“I heard they've been making some rough ones.” the voice of the clerk rings in your ear.
The baby was sideways across your pelvis. Breech. No matter how hard you pushed or how long you labored, the twin wouldn't move.
You remember one thing from the research you did, one thing doctors used to do a long time ago. You lay your first born down in the heap of towels. With a trembling hand you grasp your belly and baby and force it to turn. Your mouth goes wide, eyes distant and bulging, a contraction flaring against the forceful movement. The muscles in your arms fight against the ones making you give birth. The need to push hasn't waned–it got worse. The small shifts in the baby's position you feel aren't enough to reduce the agony or your exhaustion.
The glint of your medwatch catches your eye. A notification was recommending that you alert the EMS. One hand grips the mass of the twin as you stare at the alert. Sweat and tears burn your eyes as you consider it, as you ponder what brutality the city EMS would do to you. You ignore the notification and get back to your efforts. You resist your most primal urge, muscles strain to fight against the force of your hands; but the baby shifts regardless.
Eventually, you feel a hardness drop against your cervix.
And a bolt of pain goes through your spine. Your body jerks into an arch and your hand shoots to the base of your back. You writhe and spasm at the sudden press against your nerves. The baby rushes so quickly you don't have the chance to stop it like you did before. In the brief moment your fear of tearing enters your mind, you feel the twin open you in more ways than one.
An inhuman scream rips its way out of your throat as you feel the baby's head suddenly feel too easy to pass. Bolts of pain shoot through your crotch just as fast as the baby slides out onto the floor. Your breathy moans are joined quickly by the surprise between your legs.
Your belly looked deflated. It had to be over now.
With what strength you have left, you spray the medkit mending onto your wounded crotch. You can barely muster the energy to pick up the twin you just birthed. The desire to just lay there, breathe a few breaths not strangled by the pain of labor or the weight of two babies against your lungs and hope fervently you wouldn't win the raffle next month.
Thinking about that time I was in my stats class and someone felt faint in the middle of it so we had to call university police.... Imagine that but as they leave it's clear they're giving birth
Knocking up a cute innocent bunny sub but not letting them know what’s happening to their body and why their tummy is getting so big- and then their tits get huge as well and start leaking, but you tell them that’s just normal!
When they go into labor, they come to you whining and sobbing because their tummy hurts and they don’t understand. You just shush them softly and sit them on the biggest dildo you have, telling them it’ll help, keeping everything nice inside while stroking their cute, fluffy ears that twitch with every painful contraction that wrecks their sweet little cunt.
Only when they’re crying in hysterics from the pain of their contractions will you let them off the toy and finally give birth to that “stomach ache” they’ve had for months.
Only for you to repeat the cycle and get them pregnant with more babies this time <3
