hardcrowncherryblossom

Or hard crown*ing* cherryblossom. It's very hot.

[hardcrowncherryblossom]

Intro post

I (22, they/them) have been lurking for some time in the preggo and birth space for some time, especially the written parts, and I'm trying my hand at this.

List of stories:

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First Person

What if you saw yourself like in an FPS?

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6

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Here's what I personally like and don't. I write based on this, but don't forbid exceptions.

[foxphantom]

Two FWB are sleeping together for months until one day, she cuts off all sex with him - doesn't give him a reason why. At first he shrugs it off, he was never invested in the first place, but since they're still friends, he slowly becomes more and more aware that she's pregnant.

She doesn't talk about it until eventually one of their friends gets the courage to ask, and she's pretty casual about it - says she just doesn't want it to take over her social life. She won't say who the father is, even when he pulls her aside and asks if it's him. And he knows her, knows how dirty she keeps her shitty apartment, knows how she barely brushes her teeth, never goes to the doctor - he's so worried, but if she knows he's worried, she'll cut him off.

So he tries to get close the only way he knows how. She's pretty far along, 6 months or more, so no one's expecting her to tag along to the club next weekend. Everyone else keeps telling her to get off her feet, take a break, drink some water, but he knows she wants to feel sexy in that tight little dress that makes her belly look so big. He grinds with her all night until she finally asks to go to his place.

When they're having sex, he knows if he gets too sweet with her belly she'll dash, so he spends the night focusing on her - sucking her tits, eating her out, pounding his cock into her hard. The only time he pays any attention to her belly is when he sucks on her bellybutton, which was already sensitive before she got pregnant.

The next morning, he tells her he won't have sex with her again until she brushes her teeth, he makes her breakfast and sneaks a prenatal vitamin into it, he asks to shower with her and makes sure he scrubs her skin (all while being sexy, of course).

Their fling begins anew from there. Quietly, each step of the way, he's taking care of her, and making her feel good while doing it. She opens up eventually, letting him help her adjust during sex to find a more comfortable position, letting him buy her more pillows for his place so she has the support she needs, letting him lick up and down her sexy belly during sex.

He becomes increasingly convinced she must be carrying twins, but if he tells her that, she'll bolt. She cannot know he's helping her with her pregnancy.

He doesn't know exactly when she's due - between not knowing exactly when she got pregnant and not knowing how many she's having, he couldn't - but when she starts getting contractions frequently (though she always tries to hide them), he decides he needs to check her dilation.

Of course, there's no way to do that subtly. So he just has to pray he doesn't fuck this up. He waits until one night when she's really horny, gets her into bed, and she when he goes down to eat her out, he actually slips his hand into her birth canal.

"What the FUCK?!" she yells.

He pulls it out a second later and pulls his head up to grin at her. "You're 5 centimeters dilated," he said. "I'm not leaving this bed til we have our babies."

[painfullypregnant]

We'd only met one time at a company convention. I don't know if it was nerves, alcohol or both, but without even knowing each other's names we found ourselves entangled in a mess of our bodies in a vacant bathroom  during the con. I never expected to see you again, or that spilling my seed inside you would have consequences. 

The annual convention had to be moved up a few months for convenience and what I saw from your group shocked me. Across the room with a different regional, I recognized your face and my jaw dropped at the sight of your stomach struggling to stay contained in what I assume is a maternity business suit. I do the calculations in my head. It has been 42 weeks since I had bent you over the bathroom sink and just came inside you with reckless abandon. 

My first thought was that you shouldn't even be here in a state so advanced but I quickly remembered company policy. Convention attendance was mandatory for all Upper management personnel and their key aides, even if you didn't want to, you would have to bear through it. 

Your face flinched with every little waddle You took to follow your boss, beneath your white button up I saw your belly shift so roughly you gasped. Then your face turns in my direction and I quickly avoid your gaze. The kid or kids probably aren’t even mine surely. 

Moments later I hear  congratulatory chatter from my team. I turn to see you, both hands beneath your low hanging belly with a pained grin on your face. You make your way through the crowd to reach me. 

You lean up to my ear and whisper. 

“I need you to make me drop your babies…”

UUUUUUGH ANONNNNN!!!! Extremely painful public birth warning (no tearing)):

The immense strain on my hips is obvious to everyone who shoots the tiniest glance my way. And any person in the room who had been pregnant before could see my walk and tell there was a head between my legs. A big one too. 99th percentile twins is what you fucked into me 42 weeks ago.

The twinges in my back and belly were maddening as I conversed with all of my coworkers and the guests of the event. I knew I should be in a labor and delivery ward right now but my mind left all of that behind when I saw you. The huge man who had gotten me pregnant in the first place.

Then I had an idea. I was scheduled to be induced right after the party anyway. Jump starting things a little earlier and in such a natural way would probably make the birth a little easier in the long run.

I winced multiple times as I made my way to your end of the ballroom. You made no effort meet me in the middle as you admired the way I shuffled through the crowd while cradling my pained belly. I was about 20 feet away from you when a jolt ran through my cervix. The shaky smile that I held disappeared and my face turned serious, eyes wide as I leaned back and rolled my hips. You expected a baby to fall right out of me but the pain dissipated quickly and I reached you within seconds, whispering my desire to be fucked until I deliver in your ear.

And that's exatly what you did. You took me in the same bathroom you pumped me full of baby in. Your thrusts were so hard and quick and you moaned loudly as my contractions squeezed around you and I began to feel fluid running down my thighs. The sex was so wild and more water leaked out of me with each orgasm. My last one was the most violent, and one we shared together. You gave those final hard thrusts and I yelled out as I felt your cock jump against my dilating cervix. My eyes rolled back and we both stood there shaking violently with the power of our orgasms. We didn't even acknowledge the huge burst of fluid that sprayed out of me as my belly contracted harder than ever. The shapes of both babies were more visible as my skin tightened and you graspes them as your hips gave a few final jerks before you pulled out. A waterfall of amniotic fluid spilled from my hole as you did.

You watched panting with heavy eyelids as I squeezed my legs together and whimpered. The orgasm faded fast as the pain set in. The ache in my battered hips was so much worse, but my goal was reached. Labor was successfully induced.

I was quickly reminded that these babies were huge and I needed to get to a hospital if I was going to deliver them safely. I told my boss what was happening and got threatened with termination if I left early.

And so I sat laboring heavily in the darkest corner I could find for the next few hours. You rubbed my deformed belly through contractions and sucked my lips to keep me distracted from the pain. It worked until your baby began to crown. I screamed like I was being murdered as the head forced me to stretch. My hips felt like they would snap. My body was completely unprepared to pass your babies through my tight hole but it pushed hard anyway even when I wasn't pushing along with it.

The boss looked disgusted and told me to leave immediately. You agreed to take me to the hospital where you were sure I'd be rushed into the ER for an emergency c-section. What you didn't expect was the first baby flying out in the passenger seat of your brand new car. It was screaming on the floor but I had no time to process birthing the first before there was another gush of water and the second began to pass through. It was barely past my cervix and I could tell it would be bigger than the boy I'd just dropped.

The emergency room lot was occupied by multiple cars already so we had to park far behind. Well, far for me at least. Walking felt impossible and any onlookers gasped in horror at the big baby that filled your arms and the even bigger baby bulging out of my pussy. I didn't care that I was fully exposed to the public, I just needed to limp into the ER and have this baby cut out of me.

But it had other plans.

I stopped and clung to the pole of a sign, swaying and desperate. You begged and tried to encourage me to walk but I couldn't, and you were stuck here unable to get help as you held the first baby that was still attached to me. I didn't even notice I had lifted my leg and started pushing hard. I was so overdue and ready that my body was eager to get these babies out no matter what.

I somehow managed to scream even louder for this one. I was pulling my leg and jerking my hips uncontrollably as the head stretched me to the point where I thought I would tear. I continued to stretch and shake and scream as your second fought to be born. I only paused when it reached its widest point and the pain became blinding. Nausea hit me like a truck and I began quietly heaving with a hand on my belly, the other still clinging to the pole like my life depended on it. Instead of being sick, the head popped free with a shout and the nausea faded.

My vision was blurred by my tears that ran freely down my cheeks. I could see the shapes of two nurses sprinting towards me with a wheelchair but they were too late. My eyes rolled back as the body rotated and I sunk to the floor pushing harder than ever. The shoulders pushed against my most sensitive nerves but I kept going despite everyone yelling for me to stop pushing. Toes curling inward, I meant to tell them I can't stop but when I opened my mouth all that came out was a scream as I gave my hardest push.

Both nurses held my upper body to keep me from injuring myself as my legs thrashed when the shoulders began to pop out. The rest of the babe came so fast, nobody was in position to catch as it spilled onto the pavement with a torrent of water.

And just like that, I'd given you two huge, healthy babies.

As the nurses checked the baby and I fought to breathe, I caught your stare. You were wide eyed with shock and arousal as you looked at me. The work top that I didn't have time to remove was soaked with sweat and I was flat on my back with a baby screaming between my legs in the parking lot of a hospital.

You did this to me. You were the resosn why I was burdened and heavy for so long. You pumped a set of large twins into me and fucked them out 10 months later. Any by the look in your eyes, I could tell you wanted to do it again.

[perfectqueenfan]

A woman wakes up feeling crampy and bloated, assuming it’s just her period coming in. Throughout the day she’s struck by worse and worse cramps, and feels the need to go to the bathroom. She pushes, but the sensation is wrong - it felt *right*, yes, but it wasn’t the right hole. Parting her legs she feels a bulge travelling down her birth canal, and in a panic she pulls her tights up and stops pushing. Little does she know that the egg won’t stop growing until it’s laid, and she has another two or three or twelve to go…

AN: Writing this whole full of eggs just feels right

Waking up late in the morning was such a relief for you today. You had taken the next few days off of work due to a build up of overtime hours. Stretching with a small groan, you rolled out of bed and grabbed an oversized t-shirt from the closet. When putting the shirt on, you realize that you're looking a bit more bloated this morning than normal. Waving it off to just pms symptoms, you walk to the bathroom to freshen up.

During breakfast, you felt some slight twinges in your lower stomach and winced a bit. It had to be your period at this point, between the bloating and cramps you've been experiencing all morning. Finishing up breakfast you decide to spend the day binging the newest season of your favorite tv show.

Hours later of constant shifting around and an almost unhealthy amount of pain meds, you groaned and shifted positions once again on the couch. The cramps had gotten so bad, your stomach bloating a bit more than what you usually experienced. With a small whine you get off the couch and half hobble to the bathroom, cramps seizing your body once again. A small voice in the back of your head tells you that pushing may help ease the pain for some reason, and for some reason you give in a bit, pushing a little bit within your core. It eased the crampy feeling a little bit, enough to walk the rest of the way to the bathroom.

Pulling down your tights and underwear and sitting on the toilet. A weird feeling shifted in your lower abdomen, and thinking you just had to relieve yourself you relaxed and proceeded to. But instead, you felt a sudden deep shift and lurch, like something was dropping inside your hips. A startled yelp escaped your mouth as you brought a had down to cup your pussy, feeling a slight bulge to your lips that most definitely was not normal. Weirded out and not wanting to know what was happening right now, you quickly pull your underwear and tights back up and whine a bit at the shifting feeling of whatever was taking up space in your tight pussy.

Walking back into the living room, you lay on the couch again and try to take your mind off of whatever's happening by zoning out with your show. It was half an hour later when you noticed that the weight in your hips had become a bit heavier. Shifting your legs apart a bit more, you have an experimental push and felt the weight shift closer to the entrance of your core. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath you gave another push, this time for a bit longer and felt whatever it was shoot down to right behind your opening. Gasping and cupping your pussy through the tights and underwear you could begin to feel the bulge of your lips again.

It felt oddly good. Right even. Like this is what you were supposed to do. Rolling onto your back and shimmying off the tights, you gave another strong push and felt your lips begin to stretch a bit. But when you gave up whatever it was slipped right back into place. It went like this for what felt like hours, shifting positions to try and get the thing to shift down and out of you. You were squatting with your feet on the floor, arms behind you holding onto the couch when you finally felt the thing move a bit more forward, beginning to stretch your lips a bit more and stay. With a whine of slight victory, you grabbed your phone and turned the camera to face your aching cunt, and pulling your underwear aside you finally saw what was brutalizing your birth canal. A shiny, shimmering orange egg seemed to be peeking out of your cunt. What.The.Fuck?!

Groaning a bit as another cramp hit you, you tossed your phone aside and focused on trying to push this egg out of your body. The stretch was brutal, making you cry a bit and the burn that was now encasing your whole lower body. Your lips were looking near translucent with how much they were stretched over the egg shell. With another hour of brutal pushing, you could feel the egg finally crowning and with a gasp you shot both hands down to catch it as it popped out of you with a wet gush. It was huge, maybe a bit bigger than an ostrich egg and a beautiful shimmering orange color, like a sunset.

Crying a little bit from how you still ached, you set the egg down next to you and panted. The cramping wouldn't let up though, and before you could relax you felt an even heavier weight settle into your hips. Breaking out into full blown sobs, you pulled up the dress you had donned today to see your bloated stomach had only gotten bigger and a bit lumpy. Pushing down on it a bit with your hand, you could feel what seemed to be around half a dozen more eggs clack against each other. Pushing with as much energy as you could, you cried and whimpered the next egg down your birth canal, collapsing down to all fours when you felt that it was even bigger than the first one, making you feel like you were tight all over again.

[pumpkinbirth]

Say what you will about being a phone sex operator, but you definitely can’t call it boring.

All manner of voices find their way to you; some shy and unsure, while others can be abrasive and demanding. Hell, half of the time you barely have to do or say a damn thing while harsh panting emanates from your headphones as the person on the other end clearly only needs to know you’re listening in order to get off. There are times, though, when you find yourself engaging in specific fantasies of your callers, and those are often the most unique ones of all.

For example, tonight’s caller.

“Ooh, that one sounded like it hurt,” you purr, listening intently as the woman on the other end pants and breathes in a specifically measured way. She had called in ten minutes ago, her voice hushed and thick with anticipation, and you’d listened attentively as she explained the premise of her call: she was in labor. It isn’t the strangest thing you’ve had to play along with by far, and as the minutes tick by and her ‘contractions’ grow stronger, you inwardly find yourself much more aroused by this than you would’ve thought.

“Mnhh, they’re getting so much stronger now…” she breathes in confirmation, which earns a sound from you that is both sympathetic and teasing.

“Tell me how it feels,” you prompt, reclining back in your chair. Your fingertips trace lazily at your waistline as you do so, silently debating whether to slip further downward. Not yet, you decide. “I want to know everything, sweetheart.” There’s a faint click on the other end, perhaps the sound of your caller’s throat as she swallows hard.

“The pressure is…i-it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before,” the woman murmurs, her voice slightly strained as she fights to speak through what you assume is another one. “I can f-feel the baby moving downwards, little by little…my body’s been opening up for it all day, so it won’t be long until—!” Her sentence abruptly halts, and your eyes widen slightly as you hear what sounds like a faint splashing sound, liquid hitting another surface, the floor perhaps?

Whoever this caller is, she’s really committed to this fantasy, and you’re all too happy to be along for the ride, however odd it may be.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you croon once you’ve gathered yourself again, immersing yourself into her strange roleplay. “Did your water just break?” It takes a second for her to answer you, and for the briefest moment you wonder if the call has dropped. Her voice returns a second later, though, accompanied by that same anticipatory tremor she had when the call first began.

“There’s…fuck, there’s so much of it,” she whispers, grunting softly as she makes herself comfortable, or so you assume. “I-it just keeps coming…the bottom half of my dress is soaked through.”

“Well that won’t do,” you tsk, idly slipping a hand down the front of your pants as you tend to the budding arousal your caller has stoked in you. “It sounds like you’d better take it off, right…?” You draw out the last word seductively, and the effect is instantaneous. She whimpers into your ear before you hear the rustle of fabric, and you imagine what must be happening; her hands shaking slightly as she grasps the hem of her dress, pulling the drenched garment up and off of herself. You shiver slightly as you envision what her pregnant body might look like, before reminding yourself that this is purely roleplay, and you should keep it moving along. “Good girl. Now the rest of it, unless…?”

“T-there isn’t anything else,” she murmurs, almost coyly, and this elicits a pleased sound from you. Your hand works steadily between your legs as you listen to her heavy breaths, no doubt another of her ‘contractions’, and you’re surprised at how much this is actually turning you on. This job certainly has been a journey of self discovery, if nothing else.

“O-ohh—!” This time her voice is laced with urgency, and part of you wonders if she’s actually in pain. But that’s ridiculous, you reason to yourself; if this woman was actually in active labor, there’s no way she would be still on the line with you. No, you tell yourself as you listen to her moaning and panting, she’s just very good at this.

“Sounds like there isn’t much time left,” you purr, and the moan this earns makes a pleased smirk spread across your face. “Am I right, sweetheart? Is it time for my good girl to start pushing?”

“M-mngh, yes…!” she whimpers, and you hear more rustling as she repositions herself. Your mind conjures images of what your caller might look like, sitting naked against the headboard of her bed, legs spread to make room for her swollen belly. You swear under your breath as the image urges your fingers to move faster, but if she hears you she says nothing of it.

“C’mon then, pretty girl,” you urge, curious to see how far she wants to take her fantasy. “Push for me, let me hear it…”

Her response isn’t verbal, but it’s very much audible. A deep, almost primal grunting as she seems to bear down, straining until eventually letting up with a gasp for air. “Coming, it’s c-coming…” she pants, and you absently lick your lips before responding.

“Mm, what a productive push that must’ve been…give me another,” you order, your pulse racing as you hear her obey almost too eagerly. “Again,” you urge when she lets up, reveling in how much she’s become utterly lost in her fantasy. “Again…”

You have no idea how long this call has gone on for, but that doesn’t bother you in the slightest. All you know is that she’s enjoying herself just as much as you are; moans seamlessly intertwining with her cries of mock pain. Until at last, her voice rings out again, seeming to reverberate through your headphones.

“O-ohhhfuck it’s right there—“

“Keep pushing, you’re close, I know you’re close…”

“F-fuck…mnnhhgh!!”

The sounds she makes are unlike anything you’ve heard before, and as you feel yourself reaching your own peak you make a note to thank her for this strange new kink she’s helped you to unlock. Her last moan is a desperate, guttural scream, and there’s a soft muffled sound that must be her slumping back against the headboard. Before you can say a word, though, you hear something else on the other end, something peeking through your caller’s exhausted, labored breaths.

Something that sounds an awful lot like wailing.

“H-haahhh…thank you…for all of your help,” the woman pants hotly, and you can faintly hear her cooing softly to something before the line disconnects, leaving you equal parts aroused and confused. You wonder, faintly, if this means you can technically add ‘midwife’ onto your strange, extensive resume.

[imagineyourepregnant]

Request #469.11

11. A strict and controlling lifeguard rules the beach with an iron fist. However, with every blow of a whistle, their belly grows a little more. Eventually, they're stuck screaming in a lifeguard's chair squeezing a baby out.

We're on the beach at nearly first light, a team of lifeguards assigned to chairs at different intervals along the beach. We stand around in our in our red one-piece suits with athletic shorts over top, and bum bags cinched on our hips. I adjust my sunglasses and over-sized sun hat. 

"All right ladies," our team lead, Miranda, begins. "Just the usual spiel. Stick to your sectors, hit the radio when you're no longer able to get out of the chairs, and keep on keeping this beach rated as the safest on the island. Off you go!"

We disperse, and I take a central sector of the beach, where it will get very, very busy later in the day. Climbing the ladder up, I settle my bag of snacks and water and sunscreen, open up the sun umbrella, and put my binoculars on the shelf off the arm of the chair. I drop the lanyard of my whistle over my head. So early, its still quiet and very sparse, only the morning joggers and swimmers out and about. Locals, mostly, who wave as they pass. Down the far end, I hear the first whistle of the day and smile. 

Within a few hours the tourists have encamped themselves on their towels with sandcastle toys and piles of children. People sunbathe and frolic in the surf, or swim out into the crystalline waters- and quite often where they are not supposed to. My whistle is set between my teeth, and I blow it often and at great volume, pointing to the designated swimming areas. Reaching down, I loosen the strap of my bum bag again, settling it below my sloping belly. Smooth and rounded under my suit, I look heavily bloated so far but it's only a few hours into my shift. 

Spotting another person apparently unable to read the signs, I draw a breath and split the air with a piercing note. Warmth blooms gently low in my middle. "Swimming is permitted between the flags only, sir!"

He winces and goes where he's meant to be, and I continue my scanning. As the beach crowds, I descend from my chair and walk amongst the tourists, herding children to the safe areas and chirping the whistle at anyone breaking the rules regarding safety or treatment of the beach. People digging absurd holes, messing with the shore critters, littering, or otherwise fouling the pristine white sand. My suit stretches with my burgeoning belly, pushing out from between my hips, sinking weight into the bowl of my pelvis as I walk. Stopping and scanning again, whistle between my teeth still, I see my fellow lifeguards up and down the beach in either direction in various stages of growth. I'm probably the biggest, with the busiest section of beach and the most in need of getting people's attention. 

The beachgoers never seem to realize that every lifeguard has a swelling belly, and one that starts as nothing in the morning and burgeons out to full-term by the time the beach closes. Eventually, everyone's been present long enough to realize the limits and I return to my chair, looking midway through the second trimester of a pregnancy. The climb up the ladder is a bit awkward and I settle gratefully in my seat, stroking my bulging middle. The occupant heaves under my hand, small enough to still be soft bumps and flutters. 

By midafternoon, I've swelled significantly, looking well into the third-trimester as I stand and chirp the whistle at people. It's still early, and I try not to blow for any length of time, each chirp triggering an outward push from my middle. When I'm forced to sustain the whistle, my belly quakes and pushes outward, the occupant growing inside gaining in strength and activity. I rub soothing circles over the expanding mass as some idiot doesn't listen. I pause to catch my breath and adjust to the weight. 

Looking down, I see that I am well past being about to dismount the ladder to the sand, and say as much into the radio. Within a few minutes, a young sun-tanned young man appears at the base of my chair and offers me a slow smile before taking a rescue board and situating himself closer to the surf. 

In midsummer, the days are long. I grow until the occupant of my belly can't any longer, and the next long chirp on my whistle elicits a deep pop! within me. Instead of going into labour, my body has accepted another occupant to grow in the time before the sunsets, a mere few hours. With less time, every whistle triggers very distinct growth, and I shift in my chair, my suit finally becoming uncomfortably tight. As the sun touches the horizon, the intense tautness of my belly finally releases with a gush of fluid between my legs. I sigh as the fluids dribbles out and my skin eases as my womb deflates a bit. 

It doesn't take long for the occupants to start forcing their way out of me, my belly squeezing tightly in and up against them as they barge their way through me one directly after the other. In my chair, I pull my knees up and brace my feet on the white-painted wood, pulling the gusset of my suit aside. Already, my sex is engorged and bulging outward. When I check with my fingers, I can already feel a skull has descended through my cervix. On the next pang, I tuck my chin and bear down, listening to my fellow guards labour in their own chairs. I pant and shift my hips between contractions, hand spread over my sex so that the skull meets resistance, stretching me instead of tearing. The pang pauses on the cusp of crowning, the sibling behind it squeezing downward impatiently. 

I deliver the first in a wet rush of slippery skin and birth fluids, and pull them up to rest on my heaving belly. The babe squalls and wriggles, its cord pulsing and pulling within me. Its not human- they never are. Its the cost of using this stretch of beast, the deal struck with the old god sunk deep in the cove. We can use the beach as long as the rules are followed, the beach kept clean and safe for wildlife, and the all-female crew grows a mer-creature in her belly every shift between dawn and dusk. The whistle as the trigger was an unintended side-effect, but effective nonetheless. 

The second babe plunges through me, belly squeezing a heaving downward, and I curl forward to tuck my chin and push as well. With two, I'll be a bit behind the others. My sex bugles under my hand again, and I push back against the skull again, bigger than the first babe. My body works hard to shift it, but I push back, letting my sex stretch. I pant through the next contraction, and the head is released the moment I shift my hand. A quick few breaths and another hard contraction and push has the body rushing from me and into my hands with another splash of fluids. 

Catching my breath, I wince as the cords pulse and things pull deep inside me again. I won't be separated from them until I wade out into the water. Its an awkward shuffle to my feet with one hand and even worse down the ladder. Still, I manage it and wait for the others to arrive. 

All the women arrive with at least one babe in arms- I was the only double producer of the day. Miranda leads the way into the water and we wade out to our waists, the water lapping and then calming around us. 

My belly squeezes hard enough to elicit a gasp from me, and the pulling cords and afterbirths finally come in a rush into the water. I have to pull the gusset of my suit aside again, but the mer-creatures want freeing anyway, and swim out of my other arm. Other babes zip past me as they're freed from the other lifeguards. My middle squeezes again, and any remaining swelling tightens up and leaves me as flat as I was this morning. 

Alone on the beach, we swim and frolic a bit, cooling off after a long day on the hot sand. When I finally slosh back onto dry land, I aim for my chair, calling goodbyes and see-you-tomorrows. I dawdle, and am the last person on the sand by the time I'm packed up to go. Facing the water again, a man stands in the surf, with long wild hair and searing ocean-blue eyes- the old god. 

Without hesitating, I set my things down and walk back to the water, peeling my swimsuit off as I go. He watches me, stepping backwards with each step forward I take. I wade out after him, compelled but unafraid. Not once have I balked at serving him. Naked, and waist deep in water again, I stop when he stops, much less space between us now. Wordless, he gently takes my arms and pulls me along until I can't touch the bottom while he can. He drapes me against me, and I cling to him as he manhandles me into position-

His cock is thick and long, and he impales me on it mercilessly. The penetration isn't for my pleasure, instead he thrusts quick and deep until he can't possibly get any further inside me and comes. Crushed close to him, the pressure builds in my belly, until yet again my lower abdomen rounds out again. I come hard at the sensation, milking his cock for every last drop of his seed. 

He lifts me off him after I've caught my breath, walking us back to where I can touch the bottom again, not a single drop escaping my body as we disengage. 

"Let's see what else you can carry for me," he says in a voice I both understand completely and not at all. 

I rest my hand on the paunch, the contents cold and sloshing. In an instant, he's gone and I return to the sand to shimmy back into my suit and go home for the night, dreaming of what an old god could possibly bring to life within my womb. 

-Rambles 

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Voting ended onSep 6, 2025

[pregnant-popping]

I'm really going to burst, I can't close my legs anymore, my stomach feels like it's literally tearing open, the veins are SO visible and SO huge. My beautiful, flat belly button is bursting, I can't wear my piercing anymore because of it. It hurts so much, I just want my belly again. 😰😰😰

[transforgaytion]

Finally finished this comic! I've been working on this for a bit and am very excited to present it to you all! The first 5 pages are absolutely FREE, but there are 12 additional pages just for my Patrons!

[fond-of-round]

9 to 5-er having a VERY interesting 5 to 9 this evening, miss girl may have to call out tomorrow

[pumpkinbirth]

Never before had you looked so perfect.

The soft lighting of the gallery hall draws attention to each and every contour of your exposed flesh; emphasizing the flushed patches of skin atop your shoulders, across your face and chest. Sweat glistens at your hairline, your temples, a droplet trailing along the column of your throat and following the downward curve of your craned neck. Your arms are drawn taut and bound behind you, elbows and wrists touching each other, and the sturdy chain links clink softly as you absently test the strength of the anchor point.

You stand with your legs wide apart, your plush thighs trembling slightly as the cool air of the room clashes with the heat emanating from your skin. In a bid for a little more comfort, you attempt to adjust your stance, but the spreader bar attached to both of your ankles make this an impossible task. In every sense of the word, you are well and truly bound, and with the choice of movement having been stripped from you, there is only one thing left for you to focus on.

One thing left for everyone to see.

With your head bowed it is difficult for you to tell whenever someone approaches you, but they make their presence known well enough; after all, you are an interactive piece. Hands roam over your sweat-slickened flesh, some tracing the line of your backbone, while others follow the curve of your heavy belly, cradling the hanging swell as if they are the one responsible for it. Voices surround you, some murmuring amongst themselves as they observe from afar, some rumbling close to you as they praise and admire your artfully bound and swollen form. There are coos of awe when they watch and feel your taut belly tense with contractions, coupled with dark chuckles of arousal as disembodied fingers trace between your legs, collecting and spreading the slickness they find there.

It is only when your water breaks with a thick gush that the hands remove themselves from you, your admirers stepping back and taking their place amongst the crowd that has gathered around you. The rules are clear from this point; they cannot touch, and they cannot help. You can’t see your audience in your current position, but you can feel their eyes roaming over you; watching as more amniotic fluid trickles freely from between your spread legs, syrupy droplets spattering onto the floor and accumulating in a messy puddle beneath you. Again your legs tremble as you cry out, another contraction rippling through your body, and your eyes squeeze shut as you brace yourself as best you can.

The restraints binding your arms shift and clink as you pitch further forward, curling in on yourself as much as you can as you bear down and give your first, true push. It feels so primal this way; your body bare and your belly swaying beneath you as you obey the whims of your instincts, pushing and panting in a way that borders on animal. Leather and metal creak as you move in what little ways you can, writhing and whimpering as each push brings you closer to the peak of your performance. Faintly you register the voices of the crowd, encouragement and objectification swirling and blurring and surrounding you entirely.

A keening cry erupts from your throat when you finally, finally feel it, the deliciously burning stretch of the head fully crowning. More fluid spurts out of you, and at this point there isn’t an inch of you that isn’t glistening with either sweat or birthing fluid. Your slick thighs tremble, your knees too, and you vaguely realize that you’re only being kept upright by your arm restraints. There isn’t time to dwell on this, though, not when you’re so close—

Your broken voice echoes throughout the exhibition hall, reverberating in a way that seems to qualify as art all on its own. With one last valiant push, you feel the shoulders ease out of you one by one, followed by the rest of the baby in a searing rush of the last of your waters. One of the gallery attendants swiftly moves forward to catch it, and the wailing of the newborn is soon eclipsed by the enraptured voices of your audience, commending both your performance and the gallery itself for hosting such an experience.

[imagineyourepregnant]

Alien Eggs - Continuation

I am once again back with another continuation of this story, when I really thought I was done with it. But the brain writes what the brain wants I suppose. Sorry this is incredibly long, but I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. (PS: If there's interest, I might write more from one of the other brother's POV)

As always, please enjoy! Written by @pregnancyismykink :)

(Part 1) (Prequel) (Sequel)

**

College isn’t easy. Which isn’t really a surprising realization, but you just thought it would be more…fun? The only thing keeping you entertained now though is watching your neighbor come back home in the afternoons. 

He’s so tall, his shoulders broader than your entire body, and the gray sweatpants he frequently wears make you weak in the knees. You can hardly see his full form through the peephole of your apartment door, and honestly, you’d give anything for him to wrap those massive hands around your waist just once.

The only thing you’ve never seen though is his face. He always wears a hoodie, pulled up over his head, keeping his face hidden from your view. It’s frustrating, every single time. But you know one day you’ll get to see it. You will make sure of it. 

He sticks to a schedule so it makes it easy to predict his moves. Creepy, yes. But you blame it on the insanity of college life. 

It’s been a few months and you have yet to see his face, going so far as to leave your apartment just as he gets home, trying your damnedest to catch a glimpse, but to no avail. 

You almost give up, disappointed and frustrated, but then one night there’s a thud next door, loud and heavy and you sit up fast. Did he just pass out?

Without even thinking about it, you scramble out of bed and out of your apartment, wearing nothing but your sheer nightgown. You bang your fist on the door, calling out for him, but there’s no reply. 

Heart racing, stomach twisting into knots, you debate calling the police. They could break the door down and hopefully save the person on the other side. Or maybe they would be too late. You bang on the door again, yanking at the door handle but it’s locked. Panic starts to set in and you are 2 steps back to your own apartment when the click of the lock opening sounds, the door creaking open. 

Surprised relief floods through you and you move back to the door, finding a man…well, a husk of one. He looks awfully sick. He’s pale, sweaty, his eyes unfocused and his fingers shake despite being wrapped tight around the doorframe. He looks so miserable you can’t even rejoice in the fact that you’re finally seeing his face. 

“Oh my god, are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance? Or the police?”

The man shivers, his eyes unfocused and squinted, and you give him a once over, surprised to find his whole body trembling. He shakes his head, barely, but you don’t trust him.

“You look really sick. Are you sure I can’t help you with anything?” 

You move closer, reaching up to feel his forehead but he jerks away, losing his footing and falls to the floor. Again. 

He groans, tense and shivering, and you stand in the doorway, suddenly unsure if you’re welcome or not. In the end, you decide to say fuck it. You can’t leave him like this. 

“Let me at least help you back to your bed.”

The man is so out of it he doesn’t even protest as you step inside, closing the door behind you. 

He’s big, so much bigger than the other guys on campus, and honestly would be quite attractive if he wasn’t so sick. But…he’s massive. And you’re, well, not. 

He doesn’t move to get away, or at all really, so you kneel by him and place a hand on his chest. He lets out a pained whimper, his hand suddenly clamping around your wrist, surprisingly strong. His heart thunders under your clammy fingers. 

“You’re really not well. Come on, let’s get to the bed at least.” It’s a miracle you manage to keep your voice steady.

He opens his eyes just enough for you to see the shimmer of green, but you look away as you wrap your arms under his armpits, feeling the muscles in his back bunch even tighter at the touch. You ignore that for the moment, brace yourself, count in your head, and then you lift. 

You strain yourself, not really realizing how heavy he would truly be, but you manage to get him sitting up and leaning against the wall, his head lolling slightly. The shirt he’s wearing is soaked through with sweat, his hair much the same. His cologne tickles your nose, despite the desperate scene.

“What’s wrong with you? Are you sure you don’t want me to call an ambulance?”

He shakes his head, barely lucid. “Can’t…help…”

The words are slurred and barely audible.

You hesitate before reaching out to place a hand on his forehead, feeling the heat radiating off of him. He doesn’t jerk away from the touch this time. In fact, his whole body relaxes and slumps sideways, nearly falling face first to the floor. 

You scramble to hold his shoulders, keeping him from toppling all the way over. 

“Can I? Help?”

He moans, a pitiful sound, and opens his eyes. For the first time since you found him in a heap on the floor, he seems actually aware, like he’s just caught on that you’re trying to help. 

“Why?” he rasps out. 

You’re taken aback by the question, but…you suppose it makes sense. It’s not like you guys have ever talked before. You just watched his every move. Like a totally normal person. 

“Because I want to. You don’t look well and if you won’t let me call an ambulance, then maybe I can help. Or I can at least call someone else for you if you’d like? A brother, sister, mom or dad? Someone?”

He shakes his head, closing his eyes again. “All too far. Can’t help.”

He slumps a little more and you tighten your grip on his shoulders before he falls…again. He jerks at your touch, his brow pinching and a low moan slips from his lips. The sound sends a thrill through your stomach, making you warm. It isn’t a sound you typically hear from a nearly dead person. 

“What…exactly do you need help with?” you ask, suddenly unsure.

His fists flex at his sides, his jaw clenching. He seems to be weighing his options. To tell you or not…

His breathing is heavy when he answers. “I need to lay.”

You raise a brow, not understanding.

“Lay? Like you need to lay down?”

He shakes his head, a bead of sweat dripping over his temple. 

“Lay eggs. If I don’t lay soon, I’ll die.”

If it wasn’t for the way his entire body was trembling, you’d think he was joking. 

“And you can’t…lay…because?”

He peeks through slitted eyes. “Because I need a willing host.”

You’re suddenly struck with the realization of what he needs…and also with how much you want to be the one to help. You may be a virgin but the internet exists, and the rabbit holes you’ve found yourself getting lost in…the very ones full of creatures that weren’t supposed to exist…

“Okay. Let me help.”

You try to hide the excitement in your voice, but he must hear it because he stills, his jaw dropping, his eyes opening fully again. 

“You’re serious?”

You blush, knowing how insane it is to agree to this with someone you barely know, and nod your head, smiling. “Very. Tell me how I can help.”

He’s taken aback, clearly surprised by your eagerness, but his need to lay must take over because he nods, fumbling with the drawstring on his sweats. 

“Help me get these off. I would take you to the bed but I don’t think I can move…”

You nod, unable to contain your excitement. Your fingers wrap around the waistband of his pants and you pull, noting the struggle it takes for him to lift his hips. By the time you get his pants off, you’re disappointed to find there’s nothing there. Nothing you expected at least. 

But before you can even voice your concern, his hand grabs yours and places it between his legs. Your mouth opens again, a question on the tip of your tongue, and then something wriggles under your fingers. You glance down and then smile at the thin pink tentacle thing poking between your fingers. 

“That’s cute,” you whisper, giggling, watching the tentacle wrap around your fingers playfully. But his hand tightens around yours, all seriousness as he barely manages to sit up and push you down onto your back.

“It gets bigger,” he whispers, voice strained, his breath brushing over your face at the close distance between your faces. 

You look up and blush, mouth agape at the massive size of the man above you, heat radiating off his body enough to make you sweat. 

With trembling fingers, he runs his large hands over your thighs, lifting the hem of your nightgown over your waist, and then over your head, leaving you bare on his apartment floor.

“You promise?” you ask, breathless.

He nods, his eyes raking over your nude form as he pulls your underwear off in one swift motion. “I promise.”

He takes just enough time to get his shirt off, his chest broad and gorgeous, his stomach muscles clenching visibly, and then he’s at your throat, his tongue licking over your pulse like a man starving. The first press of his tentacle member makes you twitch, your hips pressing up closer, needing it so much more than you thought. 

He settles heavily between your legs, his face buried between your neck and shoulder, and you wrap your legs tighter around his waist, drawing him closer, needing it desperately. You’ve been imagining this man between your legs for months, and now…it’s actually happening. 

“Brace yourself,” he says, his heated breath brushing over your throat, and you grin.

You drag your nails over his back and he moans, his whole body tensing on top of you, his cock getting thicker and thicker as it continues to press inside. Your hips buck and his hand clamps down on your waist, keeping you still. 

“This won’t last long if you keep that up,” he gasps out. His fingers are so long, so gorgeously long, and you want them everywhere.

“Then hurry up,” you moan in response, pressing up against him again. He shudders, a pitiful moan slipping from his lips, but he does as you ask. He thrusts his hips in a slow, lazy rhythm, stretching you out as his cock continues to grow. 

It’s so warm and deliciously large, much bigger than any of your toys, and he presses against every amazing sweet spot. His tongue dances over your throat and you let your head fall back against the floor, the pleasure so hot and intense.

There’s a sharp pain inside you when he breaches your cervix but it’s immediately soothed by some thick gel pumping into you. You’ve heard that it’s actually supposed to be painful for men to push this far, but this? This is amazing. You can feel him stretching you out so easily, molding your body to his needs. It’s perfect. 

He continues his sloppy, slow thrusts until suddenly he gasps and tenses, tiny whimpers escaping him, his hot breaths falling over your throat. You brush your fingers through his hair and he snaps his hips, making you cry out, the pleasure overwhelming in so many ways. You feel him stretch more, feel your slit expand around the first egg, and you cum hard, harder than you ever have before. 

Your fingers scramble for a hold, gripping the massive muscles bulging on his back. Chest heaving, you can’t help but cry out as the first egg slips past your tight lips. You feel it the entire time, the stretching, the heavy egg moving through you until it pushes past your cervix and settles into your uterus. 

His hand tightens on your hip as you squeeze around him, milking him for more. He grunts and then each one comes faster than the next, practically falling into you with every passing second, and after a few more desperate thrusts, he collapses on top of you, your stomach swollen and heavy. 

“Holy fuck,” you gasp out, chest heaving, body humming with release. “That was…that was amazing.”

He shudders and lifts himself up on his hands, looking down at you with a strange yet fond look, sweat dotting his brow. His skin is darker now, less pale, his eyes more focused. 

“What?” you ask, keeping your legs wrapped around his waist, not even sure if you could move them if you wanted to. 

He shakes his head, his eyes prettier than they were before, his brown curls falling over his forehead. “Nothing, it’s just…you surprised me is all.”

You grin and wrap your hands over his shoulders, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, watching how his eyes flutter at the touch. 

“What would you have done without me?” you ask. You’re actually really curious because if it was as bad as he was saying…

“Probably would’ve died. I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d die if I didn’t lay.” 

He looks down, shifts his hips and wraps an arm under your waist, holding you still as he slowly pulls out, the friction making you shiver.

“I’m glad you didn’t die.”

His eyes lift to yours and a small smile graces his face. “Me too.”

Something warm fills your gut and you know, without a doubt, that you’ll regret it if you never speak to this man again.

“What’s your name?”

He smirks and sits up, bringing you with him so you’re sitting in his lap, arms still wrapped over his shoulders. 

“Vislos. And yours?”

You tell him and he nods, lifting you up with him as he stands, his hands holding your waist with ease. Feeling his muscles bulge under your fingers makes you warm all over again, especially as the added weight around your middle settles. It’s heavy but amazing, something new. 

“Do you have any plans tomorrow?”

The question catches you off guard, but you shake your head. It’s a Sunday and the only plans you ever made on Sundays was to clean. 

“Good.”

“Good?”

He nods, a sly grin on his face. “If you’re up for it, I want to fuck you again while I’m lucid.”

You don’t get a chance to answer before his lips smother yours, his hands much stronger now, and his body deliciously heavy against yours. He guides you to what is probably his bedroom, considering the layout is just like yours but flipped, but also you couldn’t care less. 

A door closes but you’re caught up in the feeling of his hands on your bare ass, his tongue buried in your mouth. You barely notice as he pushes you into the shower, pressing you up against the wall as the hot water starts cascading down his back, making you moan. 

He practically consumes you, marking every inch of your body and you let him, wanting to be claimed. Wanting this so bad. And he doesn’t disappoint. 

“Stay the night? Please?” he begs, his bright green eyes peeking at you through sinfully long lashes. 

You don’t even hesitate to nod, wanting to feel his strong arms wrapped around you as much as you can. And not to mention, you still had so many questions. But those could wait. 

His smile makes you melt, his eyes sparkling now with a new life. And as he kisses his way down your body, his tongue finding the sensitive nub of your clit, you’re pretty sure your own eyes are shining with new life too. 

**

“Where are you from?”

Vislos raises a brow, looking down at you from where he’s laying back against the headboard. You’d both showered and fell into bed naked, wrapped around each other. And you were currently enjoying the feeling of his strong arm wrapped around you, your head resting on his shoulder. 

“That’s where you want to start the questions?”

You shrug, running a finger over his pec and smirking when it twitches. “I have several. I figured one at a time would be easier.”

He huffs, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

“I was born on Earth. My mother is human.”

You hum, looking up through your lashes. “And your father?”

He nods, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. “From somewhere far away. Somewhere I’ve never seen and probably never will.” 

“How many eggs did you lay?”

He smirks now, shifting his arm to pull you closer. 

“At least 50. The longer we wait, the more we lay.” 

50 eggs. That many. And they all fit inside you. 

“And when do I…uhhh, lay them I guess?” You weren’t really sure of the proper terminology. 

“It varies for the first time, especially for human women. But I would guess a week or so.”

A week…

“Wait, I have classes. How am I supposed to go to school looking like this?” you ask, sitting up, suddenly very aware of how large your belly is. It isn’t like a full term pregnant belly, but it is big enough to be obvious. Big enough to make you feel like it’s real…

“You can still go to your classes. I have a sweatshirt you can wear. It’ll cover you enough.” The pleased smile on his face doesn’t escape you though. 

You look down at yourself, down at the swell of your middle. “Will they make babies? Do I have 50 babies incubating inside of me?”

He chuckles, sitting forward now too, pulling you into his lap until you’re straddling him. His hands are so big they almost cover your entire ass. 

“No. You have 50 unfertilized eggs inside you. Probably about the size of oranges. You’ll lay them in a week or so and then we will discard them.”

The disappointment you feel at that comes as a surprise. Not even one child out of this mess. Would he even stick around long enough to try for one later? Maybe when you’ve finished your classes?

“Are you…upset?” he asks hesitantly, his eyes roaming over your face. 

His hands brush up over your waist, calming you easily. He’s so warm, his body so much larger than your own. If you stood next to him, he’d likely be at least a head and a half taller than you. 

“No. Not really? I guess I was just kind of surprised they were all unfertilized.”

His brow raises and you sigh, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“I’m relieved more than anything. I still want to finish school before trying to settle down. And my parents would not like the idea of me dropping out because I’m pregnant.”

You dig your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and his lips fall open, his hands tightening around your waist. His eyes grow distant and you watch as a flush covers his cheeks.

“Are you always this sensitive?” you ask, impressed by how easily he responds to your touch. 

Vislos clears his throat, his eyes clearing, focusing back on you. “Um, for the most part, yes. There are certain areas on our bodies that are more sensitive than others, but still more so for us than for humans.”

You hum, a small smile spreading across your lips, and Vislos’ brows crease. 

“What are you thinking?”

You shake your head, looking like the ever innocent school girl, even as your fingers move to brush over his shoulders. 

“Oh nothing,” you croon out, letting your fingers drift lower, brushing over his chest. His pecs jump at the contact, and his breath hitches. You lightly run the pad of your finger over one of his nipples, and he jerks, letting out a guttural moan. 

“Liar,” he gasps out, but he doesn’t move to get away. Doesn’t push you off of his lap. In fact, the way his eyes flutter and his lips fall open, you can tell he wants more. 

“I’m just curious,” you say softly, letting your fingers drift lower and lower, brushing over the ridges of his abs, clearly well defined but still cushioned. 

“Isn’t there a saying about curiosity killing cats?” he gasps out, his hands moving from your waist to the sheets. 

His voice is hoarse, his breathing heavy, the muscles in his arms bulging from gripping the bed sheets so hard. Despite trying poorly to hide it, you can see the way his body pushes closer, wanting you to keep going. 

“There is,” you answer, feeling yourself grow warmer at the realization of how much you affect him. “Curiosity killed the cat, but,” you pause, looking back into his eyes, “satisfaction brought it back.”

You place your hand between his legs and his whole body jerks, his head falling back against the headboard, a loud thud echoing around the room. His mouth falls open and a deliciously sinful moan falls from his lips, wrapping around you and making you shiver with need. 

Just as you’d hoped, the little tentacle comes out to play once more, the thin pink thing wrapping over your fingers playfully. It’s almost like it has a mind of its own, twirling around your fingers and pressing between them. 

“Amazing.”

Vislos groans, his whole body tense and rigid as you play with the little tentacle. His stomach muscles clench, his thighs tighten as he holds himself still. 

“Can you…can we…again?” you ask, breathless at the beautiful man in front of you nearly broken from your touch alone. It sends a thrill down your back. 

He takes a deep breath, muttering something under his breath, and then his hands are back on your waist, his eyes focused fully on your face.

“Like this?” he asks, breathless, his chest heaving. 

You nod, wanting to watch his face. Wanting to see it all clearly this time around. 

He groans but nods, shifting himself to lay back against the pillows and lifts his legs, pressing his knees up behind you, shifting you forward so you’re straddling the little tentacle. It plays in your slick heat, rubbing over your slick lips, brushing over your clit and makes you gasp and jerk. 

It finally stops messing around and you lean forward, bracing your hands on Vislos’ chest, feeling it explore deeper inside you, curious instead of desperate this time. 

“Will you lay more eggs?” you ask, barely able to get the question out through the arousal shoving through you.

Vislos shakes his head, his jaw clenched, his fingers tight around your hips. 

“Already laid them all,” he gasps out. “Won’t have more for a week.”

You nod and bounce softly, wanting more. He must want more too because the tentacle starts pushing faster, slithering through your tight pussy.  

He shivers and looks up at you, his eyes shining with desire and need and something else you can’t read. His hands flex, squeezing your hips and then he’s brushing them up over the heavy swell of your middle, then up to cup your breasts, a perfect handful for each hand. 

He pinches your nipples and you gasp, squeezing around him. His hips jerk and you grin, shifting to hold onto the headboard instead. 

“Keep up,” you challenge, and his eyes sparkle with mirth as you start to bounce, taking control. And he just lets you, watching your heavy form from below, his eyes wandering and devouring your every move. His hands continue to wander, feeling every inch of your skin. You’re so suddenly hit by the realization that this man could be yours if you wanted, that you could have everything you wanted and then some. 

With renewed vigor, you take control and pleasure yourself, already planning on how to make this permanent.

**

Turns out though, you don’t have to try very hard. You stayed at his place Sunday night too, but Monday morning was a rude reminder that you had to go back to your everyday life. To normal. 

You thought he would leave it at that, only revisit you later when it was time to lay and discard the eggs incubating inside you, but he surpassed your every expectation by cooking you breakfast, offering to drop you off at school, and even bringing you lunch when you told him you forgot yours. 

He was doting, kind, and even funny, making you laugh at the stupidest jokes. By the end of the week, you felt like you’d known him for years. He knew what foods you liked, what you disliked, paid attention when you talked, and honestly…he was perfect. 

Saturday morning, he comes over to cook breakfast, using the extra key you gave him to get into your apartment. He finds you in bed, slips under the covers and wraps himself around you, kissing the back of your neck in greeting. 

You groan, smiling as he shuffles closer. 

“Hmm, morning,” you hum. 

“Morning,” comes his muffled reply. He wraps his arm under your swollen middle, tucking himself up against your back as close as he can. Big spoon isn’t enough to describe how his body practically smothers you. 

“What’s for breakfast?” you ask, running your hand down his arm and linking your fingers with his. 

He nuzzles into you, his breath hot and heavy against the back of your neck. 

“Bacon and avocado toast. Also fruit and some breakfast potatoes.” 

You hum again, already feeling your stomach starting to growl. You’re starving. 

“Get cooking then,” you command, but neither one of you move. He only buries himself closer, trapping you in his arms. At least until your stomach growls loud enough for the both of you to hear. 

You sigh and he chuckles, shifting and slipping out of bed, but not before he leaves a kiss on your temple and a light pat on your ass. You grin and watch as he disappears out of the bedroom door, his ass looking mighty fine in those sweatpants. 

You take your time getting up, stretching and slowly sitting up, adjusting to the early morning hour. The shower is calling your name so you climb out of bed, shuffle to the bathroom, and take your time lavishing your body with soap. 

Your belly has grown some over the last week, a side effect of the eggs absorbing the food you’ve been eating. At least, that’s what Vislos says. You don’t mind, even if it means the sweatshirt he gave you barely covers the bump now. 

Turns out people in college just don’t care. Nobody pays any attention to you, nor do they mention anything about the swell of your middle, even though you wear a sweatshirt in the summer. Even your friends haven’t noticed anything wrong. Well, they’ve noticed that you’re different, but you easily distracted them by telling them all about the new buff boyfriend you acquired entirely by accident.

The details stay secret, but that doesn’t mean you can’t gush to them about how doting and amazing he is, and how much you want him to be yours forever. They laugh and call you a simp but it doesn’t matter. You know deep down, Vislos is the real simp in this relationship. 

By the time you step out of the shower, the smell of bacon and potatoes calls to you, dragging you from the bathroom before you’ve even dried off properly. 

Vislos is there, in your kitchen, dressed in a simple yet sinful pair of gray sweats and a long sleeve t-shirt, the sleeves rolled up his forearms. His hair is a mess, his curls sticking out in several directions, like he forgot to brush it this morning, and you smile softly to yourself, watching as he painstakingly cuts the fruit into little slices and places them artfully on the plate. It’s endearing how much he cares for the small things. 

You take a few more minutes to wrap a robe around yourself, and then you shuffle into the kitchen, wrapping your arms around his back, taking a deep whiff of his cologne. 

He straightens, putting the knife in the sink and turns, facing you, face soft. “Breakfast is ready.”

He looks so happy, so delighted to be doing this for you…

“Thank you.”

He grins and nods, turning you around as he guides you to the table where a rather large buffet of items await. All of your favorite fruits, your bacon cooked extra crispy just how you like it, the potatoes still steaming in their dish. Your stomach growls again and he grins.

“Eat up. You need all the energy you can get.”

You nod, too hungry to disagree. Not that you wanted to anyway. 

“You’ll probably lay the eggs soon. You’re showing signs,” he adds as he sits across from you. 

You don’t even know what that means, ‘showing signs’, but you don’t care. 

“Will you lay eggs in me again once they’re gone?” you ask after taking a large bite of your avocado toast. 

He looks a little taken aback by the question, choking a bit on the bacon he’d just eaten, but nods earnestly. “If you’ll allow me to. It’s best to lay weekly.”

You hum around a mouthful of potatoes. “I would like that. I can help you for as long as you want. Or…until you find someone else…”

The thought puts a sour taste in your mouth, but the sudden dazzling smile on Vislos’ face distracts you from the idea. 

He wipes his mouth off and slips from the chair, moving to kneel in front of you, his hands wrapping around your own in your lap. He’s looking at your belly as he speaks. 

“It’s not easy finding someone like you. My father was lucky to find my mother, and I am incredibly lucky to have found you.” 

There’s a warmth growing in your middle as he speaks. 

“So, if you’ll have me, I should very much like to stay. And take care of you for as long as you allow it.”

The sheer devotion on his face, the unhindered truth he lets bleed into his words…it leaves you breathless. 

“I promise I will do everything in my power to make you happy.”

The gentle words are so at contrast with the strong, heavily built man kneeling before you, but yet…they ring true. Without a doubt, you know this man will make you the happiest woman in the world. 

**

“Can you hand me the tape?”

The ribbon hanging from your fingers sways slightly in the heat blowing from the unit, and Vislos does as you ask, passing the tape up to you while keeping a protective hand on your ankle. 

He hadn’t exactly been happy about you climbing the ladder, but you’d insisted and he relented, albeit reluctantly. 

Christmas is and always has been your absolute favorite holiday, and though you don’t have much, you always decorate. 

You finish taping the ribbon up, leaning back to make sure it’s level, and then clap your hands together, content with the placement. Vislos’ hand never leaves your leg, his fingers tight around your calf, and you smile, nodding down at him. 

“It’s perfect. Help me down.”

He doesn’t even hesitate to lift you off the ladder and place you gently on your feet, his fingers tight around your waist. You’re pretty sure this is the first time he’s taken a breath since you climbed the ladder. 

“Do you like it?” you ask, looking up at the lights and ribbons hanging over the window in your bedroom. The colors pair well with the tree and stockings in the living room. 

Vislos wraps his arms around your middle, his hand cupping the swell of your newest batch of eggs, and nods. 

“I like it much better now that you’re back on the floor.”

You scoff and slap his arm, but a smile tugs at your lips. His concern is nice. Makes you feel loved. 

“I can’t believe it’s been 5 months. Christmas break could not have come any faster.”

With final exams, studying, and just the general chaos of the end of year college preparations, Vislos hadn't laid his eggs in you for three whole weeks. And for those three weeks, you had both been miserable. You with your studying, and him trying to cope with his body readjusting to having to wait to lay. 

He never got as bad as the first time you met, but he’d been getting paler, weaker, napping more often. You knew it was affecting him, even if he wouldn’t admit it. The night you came home from your last exam, you found him knocked out on the couch, snoring softly. You just curled up into him and he wrapped himself around you, warm and comfortable. 

Now though, he looks lively as ever, his skin back to that dark tan you love so much. And the sparkle in his eyes is finally back. That’s what you’ve missed the most. 

“Do you celebrate Christmas?”

He looks down at you, his thumbs absently rubbing over the sides of your belly. “Not in the same sense as you. But I do usually go home and eat with my parents and brothers.”

You nod, resting your head back against his chest as his thumbs continue to make small little circles over the sides of your stomach. 

“Will I ever meet them?”

He nods, no hesitation. “If you’d like to. I had planned on going to visit them for the holiday, but you needed me more.”

The admission makes your gut warm, a growing fondness you only felt for him. 

“Maybe one day we can go visit. I’d like to meet them.” 

He hums softly, his hips swaying side to side.

“Fine with me. Just let me know when. I’ll call them and let them know.”

You relax into his arms, leaning back against him, and think back to when you’d first met, on the floor of the next door apartment. You still can’t believe it’s only been 5 months. It feels like years. 

“How would you feel about meeting my parents? I know it’s still early but…”

He pulls himself to full height and turns you around, pulling you into his front, a soft smile on his lips. 

“I’d love to. Just tell me when.”

You raise a brow up at him, holding his biceps. 

“Really? Just like that?”

He shrugs, shoulders bunching. 

“I’ll do anything for you. Especially if it’ll make you happy.”

If you were really pregnant, you’d probably be a sobbing mess on the floor from that comment. Even so, you’re still fairly close to tears at such an easy declaration of love. 

“Anything?” You ask, even if only to distract yourself from the intensity of your feelings for this man. 

It’s his turn to raise a brow now, looking down at you suspiciously. 

“Yes, anything. But don’t go getting any funny ideas,” he teases, lightly flicking your nose. 

You scrunch your nose up at him and he leans in to kiss it, playfully slapping your butt. 

“What are we going to do during your precious time off from school?” he asks, changing the subject. 

You sigh, laying your forehead on his chest. 

“I can think of a few things.”

“You can’t possibly want to do that every night for the entire break.”

“Why? Don’t think you’ll be able to keep up?”

He scoffs, wrapping his arms around you to hold you close. 

“I don’t think I’m the one with the stamina issues.”

“Psh, I’m not the one who fell asleep after one round.”

He groans and pinches your butt, making you yelp. 

“That’s not fair and you know it. There were extenuating circumstances.”

You laugh, looking up at him with your chin on his chest. 

“You’re right. It’s my fault you had to wait that long again. I’m sorry.”

His face softens and he cups your cheeks, pushing them together and turning your head side to side. 

“I already told you there was no need for apologies. I survived, and you passed, that’s what matters.”

You sigh and nod…or at least you try to with his hands still cupping your cheeks. He seems satisfied with the response though and leans in for a kiss, slow and sensual, making your legs grow weak. 

“Why don’t you start with a bath? You can use your new soap,” he suggests, and it’s the best idea you’ve ever heard. 

**

The steam of the bath fills the bathroom and you sigh, enjoying the heated water easing the tense muscles of your back. The weight around your middle is heavier than usual since he laid more eggs this time around. 

You run your fingers over the bump, letting the soap drip off your fingers as you imagine what it would be like if it was real. If you were really pregnant, carrying a new life inside of you. You’re surprised to find that you actually want that. That you want to feel the swell of your middle harden, to watch it contract as you push out your first of hopefully many children…

“What are you thinking about?”

Vislos interrupts your thoughts as he steps into the room and sits at the edge of the tub, his fingers resting on the knee that’s poking out of the water. 

You smile and lean back, watching the man you love admire the heavy swell of your middle. 

“Seeing you naked,” you answer, watching his face scrunch adorably. 

“You see me naked nearly every day you heathen.”

You laugh then, reaching up to grab his hand, pulling it into the water and placing it on top of your belly. 

His smile softens and his fingers spread over the underside of your belly, his thumb brushing softly over the side. 

“You’re close.”

You nod, enjoying the feeling of his fingers on your body. You can recognize the signs now, and can tell when you’re getting closer to laying. It isn’t so much a guessing game anymore. 

“Wanna join me?”

His eyes lift to yours and he nods, not even hesitating to stand and strip out of his clothes. You watch, unashamed. 

His muscles shift and twitch as he kicks off his pants and you stare at his tentacle playfully poking out between his legs, raising a brow up at him. He looks back down at you with a smirk. 

“You’re hot. I can’t help it.”

The comment makes you snort, shaking your head in disappointment even as you sit up and allow him to shift into the bath behind you. His thighs wrap around your sides and his whole body envelops you, making you even warmer than before. 

He settles and the water just barely sloshes over the edge of the tub, making you sigh.

“You’re too big for this.”

He just grins, wrapping his arms around you, his hands rubbing the sides of your extended belly.

“That’s not what you said the other night.”

You roll your eyes, stifling your smile.

“And you call me a heathen.” 

He hums softly, his chest warm and heavy against your back.

“As I recall, you were the one undressing me every second you got.”

“I don’t remember you refusing,” you refute, slapping at his hand as his fingers wander to your breast. 

“How could I? When you look so delectable like this.”

He nips at the shell of your ear and you bite back a groan, not wanting to encourage him. He seems to dislike that though and he does it again, this time ignoring your warning and squeezing your heavy breasts. 

You let out a soft sigh, unable to hold it back, and you can feel his grin on the back of your neck.

“Bastard.”

“Yes but only your bastard.”

You shake your head, giving up on trying to keep him away. You didn’t want him to stop anyway. 

He took advantage of your defeat, now running his hands over your whole body, your breasts, your stomach, and then between your legs, pressing a few fingers into you.

You sigh and let your head fall back against his shoulder, enjoying the playful yet pleasurable way his fingers move. You’re close to orgasm when you feel a shift, somewhere deep inside you. 

“The eggs are coming,” you gasp softly, already feeling the heat and pleasure starting to build. His fingers stop moving though and you whine.

“Do you want to stop?”

The sentiment was nice, but there was nothing you wanted more than to lay these eggs in this tub while his fingers continued to move sinfully over your body. 

“Never.”

He huffs, his fingers moving again. “Good.”

**

It takes all of 30 minutes to lay the 12 eggs Vislos had planted inside you. With the help of several orgasms, it was a breeze. Vislos, horny as he is though, doesn’t waste the time pleasuring you even more. 

As you pushed, he played with your clit, slow at first and then speeding up, moving to the rhythm of the eggs stretching you open and then falling into the water of the tub. Their light green shells matched the beautiful green of his eyes and once again you’re left thinking about what it would be like to have children with him. 

Would they be like him? Would they look like him? Would they have any of your features? What would their personality be like? Vislos showed you pictures last week of his family, and his father’s features were more prominent, but you could still see his mother in his eyes.  

 Vislos and Eze both look much like their father, the broad builds and tanned skin. Uma though, he looks far more like his mother. Despite only being a few years apart, Uma looks so vastly different from the two, it's surprising to you that they’re related. 

The thought of giving that to Vislos, of providing a child that he could take care of and raise, that he could protect and dote on, it ached in your chest. You want it so badly. 

“There you go again, looking off into the distance. Are you still imagining me naked?”

You huff, your thoughts interrupted again. 

“No. Not this time.”

Vislos must hear the change in your tone because he stops running his hands over your now flat stomach, shifting slightly so he can look at you. 

“Are you ok?”

You smile at him and nod, lifting your soapy hand from the water and cupping his cheek. He accepts your kiss, his eyes going distant for a split second before zoning back in on you. 

“I just…I was thinking about what it would be like to have a child for real. Not right now of course,” you hurriedly add. You want to finish school first. “But later, down the line. We could settle down, have one or two kids, move to the mountains like your parents.”

He doesn’t say anything but his eyes are watery when you look back up at him, and you sit up, turning to straddle his lap as best you can in the confines of the tub. 

“What’s wrong? Did I say something? We don’t have to, I was just—“

“I’d like that,” he says softly, cutting you off with a finger to your lips. As goofy as he usually is, he knows when to be serious, and it always makes your heart jump in your chest. 

“Really?”

He nods, the most breathtaking smile on his face. 

“Of course. I want that more than you’ll ever know.”

Now your own eyes grow watery and you lean in closer, resting your forehead on his. You close your eyes and just breathe in, the scent of the lavender soap filling your nose. 

“When I finish school. I have a year and a half left. But I’m willing, if you are. Please,” you add, wanting him to realize just how serious you are about this. 

His fingers wrap around your waist tight, holding you still as he nods, his face splotchy with unshed tears. 

“I love you.”

**

The rest of winter break consists of you and Vislos enjoying your time together. He somehow manages to connect your switch to the tv and you both play Mario Kart and Overcooked, arguing louder than probably necessary when he knocks you off the rainbow road and arguing more when he doesn’t chop the veggies fast enough. 

It never gets heated though. He’s competitive, impressively so, but he never acts petty or annoyed when he loses. At least not that you can tell. 

You rarely leave the apartment, if only for groceries, and most of the time it’s just Vislos going to the corner store about a block from the apartment building. 

You force him to watch Hallmark Christmas movies, enjoying the disgust on his face every time the big city woman leaves her big time money husband for the small town country farmboy. He makes you hot chocolate, with marshmallows and cinnamon just how you like it, and then he lets you curl up into his side, smothered in big fluffy blankets. 

You could probably live on this couch forever. Here, with him, basking in his warmth and his gentle comfort, you’re content. Happy. Incredibly so. But school starts back in 2 days and you’re not ready for this to be over yet. 

He absentmindedly runs his fingers over your shoulder, brows furrowed as he watches the woman on the screen fumble through her monologue. You’re warm, full of hot chocolate, and his fingers send a thrill down your back with every stroke. 

You shift, putting your mug on the table, and pretend to get more comfortable. He keeps watching the movie, even as you tuck your face into the curve of his neck, and you place a kiss on the sensitive part of his neck, the same spot that always makes him squirm. 

He twitches and his breath hitches. 

“What are you doing?”

His voice is warm and delicious and it sends another thrill through your entire body. 

“Nothing,” you answer, even as you place another kiss on the underside of his jaw. 

He groans and pulls away.

“You heathen. Will you ever be satisfied?” he asks playfully. The flush on his face betrays his desire for you to keep going, and you shrug, running your fingers over the muscle of his thigh. 

“If you can’t keep up…” you tease, your fingers slipping between his legs. 

He raises a brow at the challenge in your voice. 

His tentacle starts moving under his boxers and you grin, satisfied, but he grabs your hand and pulls it away, pulling it to his lips instead. 

“You’ll be the death of me, you know.”

His fingers trail down to your wrist, thumbing your pulse, then he kisses your palm, making you squirm. 

“I think I’m the only thing keeping you alive actually,” you joke, leaning in to put a kiss to his lips. 

His eyes follow you the whole way but he doesn’t pull back. Doesn’t even try to stop you. You pull back and his eyes grow soft, a fond smile growing on his lips. 

“In more ways than you’ll ever know,” he answers, leaning in to kiss even deeper.

You melt into his touch, folding so easily as he lays you back on the couch, his thigh slipping between your legs. He settles his weight down on you and kisses over your jaw. 

“Put your eggs in me again, please. I want to feel full again.”

Your voice is hoarse and he shudders, his eyes growing hungry as he pulls away to look at you. 

“You sure? I can go another week if you—“

“I’m sure,” you interrupt, lifting your thigh to brush between his legs. 

His mouth falls open and his eyes squeeze shut, the way he always does when he’s trying to hold himself back. 

“Come on, please? It’s been a week already.” 

His fingers clench around your waist and you can feel them trembling. He’s clearly been waiting for this too. 

He lets out a shuddering sigh and sits up, pushing his boxers to his knees and you squirm with anticipation. 

“Fuck yes.”

He huffs, rolling his eyes at your enthusiasm, but he’s clearly just as eager, his tentacle already inching its way out. 

He takes a moment to slip your sleep shorts off, leaving you bare below the waist, and then he turns you onto your side, slipping behind you. His favorite position. He really likes to feel your stomach swell. 

“Keep still,” he whispers, his breath brushing over the back of your neck as his hand creeps under your shirt, making you twitch. You don’t even realize your hips are moving until he says that. 

“Sorry,” you mutter but he doesn’t bother to respond, his lips already moving over your neck to suck on the disappearing bruise. He likes that too. Leaving marks. 

His calloused fingers brush up against your breast and you let out a breathy moan. His tentacle, warm and wet, slips between your legs, and you lift a leg over Vislos’ thigh. 

It plays with you at first, slipping through your slick folds over and over, teasing you enough to make you whimper. Vislos, the dickhead, is thumbing over your nipple while massaging your breast, his lips doing wonderful things to the back of your neck. It’s just enough to bring you to the edge, but not enough to push you over. 

“I swear to god, you better fuck me before I cum or so help me—“

Vislos chuckles, stuffing two fingers into your mouth and you groan. He presses his hips down into you, effectively crushing you between him and the couch cushion. You debate biting his fingers until that tentacle finally, blessedly, slips into your slick heat. 

It’s so sudden and warm it nearly breaks you, but you breathe through the growing warmth, letting your mouth fall open, your tongue wrapping around his fingers. 

He groans and the sound echoes through you. It’s so needy. 

His hips buck into you and you cry out, unable to move your hips back. He just keeps going, the tentacle pushing and pushing, filling you until finally, you feel that familiar pinching sensation. 

A muffled fuck comes from behind you and a whimper follows as Vislos takes his fingers from your mouth and puts his hand over your stomach instead. His hand is so big it nearly covers the whole expanse. 

“Yes, yes fuck. Lay your eggs in me,” you cry out, and Vislos shudders with a groan. Then eggs slip into you faster than they ever have. Desperate whimpers come from the man inside you and you lose it. Over the edge from his noises and the deep push and pull of the eggs, pleasure coursing through every inch of you, making you hot and cold all at once, and Vislos…he just keeps going. 

“Unnffhhh, fuuuck,” he groans, his finger tips pressing into your growing stomach, and you nearly cum again, just from the pitiful noises escaping his lips once more. You’re really lost for this man. 

His hips stutter, his gasps growing louder, and then he collapses on top of you in a heap, smothering you. 

“Vislos,” you groan, smacking his thigh until he moves. 

His fingers tremble on your waist as he rolls off of you, once again moving behind you, the big spoon to your little spoon. 

“Sorry,” he says, his chest still heaving. “You ok?”

You nod, your breathing finally settling down. 

“Fine. Better than fine. Thank you.”

He huffs, pulling you impossibly closer, and kisses your shoulder. 

“Pretty sure I’m the one that should be saying that but you’ve turned my brain to mush.”

You open your mouth to respond but a moan slips out as he pulls out of you, leaving you feeling empty again. At least your stomach is full of eggs. It’s a feeling you’re starting to get used to, and you don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. 

“You’ve turned my insides to mush so I think we’re even.” 

A snort sounds from behind you and you grin, pulling his arm tighter around your chest. He has a handful of your boob, something he likes to do after intense sex, or really, just anytime he can get his hands on them. You like it, but you’ll never tell him that. If you did, he’d be unstoppable. 

“I can’t believe Christmas break is almost over.” 

He hums, his fingers squeezing and then letting go, acknowledging you without words. He must be really tired. 

“Wanna go to bed? Before you fall asleep here?”

“Mm mm,” he murmurs, shaking his head for extra emphasis. He just curls himself around you like one big teddy bear and you grin, hugging his arm close to your chest. 

“Very well. Good night. I love you.”

He at least deigns to answer those words, lifting himself just enough to kiss your jaw, whispering I love you into your ear, and then he’s gone again. Not 5 minutes pass before he’s softly snoring, the noise rumbling through you. 

“Sleepyhead,” you mutter, but the smile never leaves your face. Not even as you drift into the best sleep you’ve ever had in your entire life. 

**

He meets your parents about 7 months into your relationship, and he has them wrapped around his finger the second they lay eyes on him. Your father, hard headed as he is, loves him, and your mom about swoons the first time Vislos cooks dinner for them. 

They pull you to the side before leaving, and they sing his praises, making you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. And then Vislos nearly cries when you tell him how much they love him. He had been so scared, no matter how hard you tried to convince him he was fine. You just hug him, letting him work through his emotions, and then he makes love to you through the night, nearly making you late for your early morning class. 

By the time spring break rolls around, you both visit his family for the first time. They welcome you with open arms, his mom absolutely delighted to hear he’s found someone to take care of him. 

His father, a quiet but firm man, gives him a pat on the back, and has to turn away as his eyes well up. He’s proud, that much is obvious. 

His brothers are mostly the same, just a little less emotional. Or at least better at hiding it. 

Eze is a rambunctious man and Uma is more refined, but he easily keeps up with their banter. Uma is smaller, but no less handsome, and if your future kid turns out anything like them, you’ll celebrate and thank whatever god exists that this is the life you were given. 

Vislos’ mom pulls you to the side one night to ask how you’ve been managing, and she explains in no small detail just how different the breeding process is compared to the normal egg laying. Despite the difficulty, and the possible danger, you haven’t changed your mind, and she seems to be relieved at that realization. 

After spending a week with his family, watching Vislos joke around and play fight with his brothers, more relaxed than he’s been since you met him, and realizing just exactly what you could have one day, it makes you all the more determined to finish school. 

More than once you host study groups at the apartment, Vislos the handsome host as always, and you even earn several pats on the back for bagging “a good one”. You just roll your eyes at them, but you agree. He really is the perfect man. 

The month before finals, you take a very much needed break from school, if only for the night, and Vislos takes you out for a real, proper date. Your one year anniversary. 

You’ve been to dinner together before of course, and even to the movies a few times, but this time Vislos goes all out. 

Though, when he first walks out of your room with a suit on, you have the mind to just stay inside the rest of the night. He had the same thought seeing you in your bright red dress, form fitting around your smaller waist and supple chest. He almost didn’t let you walk out of the apartment. 

The restaurant is fancy, downtown, something you would normally eat at only once in a lifetime. The wine is absolutely delectable, the food even better, and by the time you leave, you have a food belly, peeking out through your tight dress. Vislos loves it and you don’t even make it home before he gets his hands on you, making you cum twice with his fingers and tongue alone. 

By the time finals week arrives, you’re both miserable, him a little more so, if only because you won’t let him touch you lest you get distracted from studying. That doesn’t keep him from taking care of you though. And when bed time rolls around, he is always there, ready to wrap you in his arms. 

You always feel bad when you keep him from laying, but he constantly assures you that while he may feel ill, it’ll never be as bad as when you first met. Not unless you go months apart. It doesn’t help you feel better at all, but you focus on studying anyway, knowing this is the best way you can help him. 

He treats you better than you treat yourself most days, and now that the end is near, you can’t wait to give him what he truly wants.

**

Finishing school is the hardest thing you’ve ever done, but you’re determined. You have a promise on the line. 

And truthfully, that promise isn’t the only thing driving you. Vislos is just the most perfect boyfriend and you’re genuinely excited to be able to spend life with him when school is over. You want to travel and explore with him, to just be with him for the rest of your life. And if the way he treats you says anything, he wants that too. Desperately. 

So when you walk across the stage, dressed in a garnet robe, tassels dangling from your neck, your graduation cap sitting crooked on your head, it’s Vislos’ face you look for in the crowd. It’s his face beaming back at you, surrounded by your parents and his mother who so graciously made the trip to watch you graduate. 

Tears burn in your eyes but you blink them away. This is your day. This is the day you’ve been waiting for, and you won’t let the tears smear your makeup. 

**

“Hi, my lovely graduate.”

You grin and melt into Vislos’ arms. He kisses all over your face, picking you up and spinning you around once for good measure. His mom smacks him in the arm, but the smile on her face is evidence enough that she is just as happy as he is. 

“Oh dear, you look lovely. I’m so proud of you.”

Vislos releases you long enough for you to hug your dad and mom, and she winks at you as Vislos moves right back to your side. He refuses to let you go, even during dinner, and during the drive back home. He’s always touching you, a hand on your side, a hand on your thigh, it’s comforting. 

He stops just long enough to park the car and open your door, and then he’s carrying you to the elevator and over the threshold of your shared apartment. 

His fingers are warm on your waist and legs, the smell of his cologne curls in your nose and makes you feel fuzzy inside. 

“You can put me down now, you know.” You say it but you don’t really mean it. You like being in his arms. 

Apparently he knows that too because he just smirks and readjusts his grip. 

“I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes.”

You grin, kicking your feet a little before closing your eyes, just as he asks. 

“No peeking,” he whispers, the warmth of his breath brushing over your ear. 

“No promises.”

He huffs, but you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks again. 

“Ok. Open them.”

You peek first, squinting to see what could possibly be going on, but your eyes open fully when you realize just what it is. 

The bedroom, the one you’ve been sharing with him nearly since the day you met, is absolutely covered in rose petals and candles, the scent of roses and lavender strong enough to make your nose itch. He sets you down on your feet and you gaze in awe up at him, eyes wide. 

“I know I say this a lot, but meeting you, knowing you, has been the most amazing gift I could ever ask for. I never once thought I would be this lucky. But…” he pauses, taking a deep breath, and then you feel tears prick at your eyes for the second time today as he gets down on one knee and continues…

“You are the most amazing woman, so smart and headstrong, sassy and funny. You make waking up in the morning worth it every single day, even if you put ketchup on your eggs.”

You snort, ugly tears falling down your cheeks now. 

He grins up at you, his eyes watery as he pulls a small red box from his jacket pocket.

“I can’t live without you, nor do I want to. I want to grow old with you, and listen to you complain about your day. I want to have kids with you, when you’re ready, and I want to go on so many adventures. I promise to spoil you, to take care of you, and to always treat you with respect. So, my love…” he says, opening the red box to reveal one of the most gorgeous diamond rings you’ve ever seen. “Will you marry me?”

The answer is obvious. To you, to him, to anyone who has the chance to witness his love for you in person, but you still nod your head emphatically, wiping away the ugly tears. 

“Yes, oh my god yes. I love you so much.”

His shoulders sag in relief and he stands, pulling you into a gut melting kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist the way they always do. 

He pulls away long enough to put the ring on your finger, his fingers shaking just as bad as yours. 

“I love you so much. And I promise to love you for the rest of our lives.”

Heart achingly full, you nod and kiss him again, the weight of the ring on your finger a forever reminder of the man you will love for the rest of your life. 

**

The wedding is small, but still, it’s everything you’ve ever wished for. Your parents join, all of Vislos’ family, and a number of friends from school. In total the ceremony lasts about 30 minutes, and the remainder of the time is spent hanging out with everyone. 

You can finally feel the stress falling off of you in waves. It may be a small ceremony, but there has been so much planning involved. Vislos hasn’t been able to lay in a few weeks so he’s pretty subdued, and you can see the faint tremble in his fingers, but that doesn’t keep his face from brightening whenever you get near him. He’s tired, but he’s happy, and he’s already promised retaliation later tonight. You look forward to it. 

**

About five months after the wedding, it’s time to set your plans in motion. You can’t exactly tell your parents you’re pregnant like normal women, considering it doesn’t take as long for the eggs to hatch. So instead, you wait a bit, just enjoying being Vislos’ wife. He gets back into his normal rhythm of laying weekly, and he looks all the better for it. And every time you both go out, you get compliments on your belly, and how you’re glowing. 

One morning, you’re dressed in a simple yellow sundress, sandals, and a floppy hat, taking maternity photos for the first time. Your hair is being unruly but you ignore it, focusing more on the bump of your belly under your dress. Your friend Sarah is just a few feet away, instructing you on how to pose as she snaps pictures. 

You waited a few days after Vislos laid so you would be a little bigger, and with your hand tucked under your belly, holding the dress up against it, your bump is pretty pronounced. Just convincing enough to be over halfway through a pregnancy. 

Sarah seems convinced enough. She keeps complimenting you and how good you look. And then when Vislos joins the pictures, she gushes over how good you both look together. You’d be jealous if you didn’t know how head over heels Vislos is for you. 

The pictures turn out so good, you print all of them and frame a few of them, placing them around the apartment. You also tuck two into a box, along with a onesie that reads *1st Grandchild*. Vislos is kind enough to offer to take it to the postal office for you, and you just know you’ll soon be getting a very excited phone call. 

Vislos’ parents already know the plan, and have been incredibly supportive. His father, Mr. Prathy, has been very kind, giving you answers to all of your questions, keeping you and Vislos sane, and they’ve also helped plan how to handle all of this. Even still, you send them a picture as well, along with another similar onesie. Even if they already know, you want them to be included.

Vislos comes up behind you just as you finish writing the names on the labels. His warm hands wrap around your waist, cupping your heavy middle, and you grin and lean back into him. 

“Ready for bed?” he asks, setting his chin down on your shoulder. His thumbs are slowly rubbing up and down the sides of your belly and it feels so damn good. 

“It’s only 9 o’clock.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice when he responds. 

“More time for me to make love to my beautiful, perfect wife.”

Your heart flutters and sends warmth shooting through you. His wife. That’s what you are. 

You turn around to face him, leaning back against the table and Vislos follows, leaning in closer now. 

“And what if your wife doesn’t want to go to bed just yet?”

His brow raises and his lips quirk up.

“I’m flexible.”

He lifts you up onto the table then, pushing himself between your legs, and you gasp.

“This is not what I had in mind.”

He shrugs though, and trails a finger over your breast, the thin nightgown you have on doing nothing to keep your nipples from being visible. 

“Are you saying you don’t want it?” he asks, looking at you as if you would be his last meal. 

Heat thrums through you and you shake your head, unable to use words anymore. He just smirks and leans in, trailing his lips over your jaw. You sigh, letting your head fall back, and he takes advantage of the new space, suckling over your neck, down to your shoulder. His hands trail up your thighs, pushing the nightgown up with them, and then he’s getting on his knees, putting your thighs over his shoulders. 

“Here?” you ask, breathlessly, leaning back slightly. This is probably the only time you’ll curse the swell of your middle, because you so wish you could see him right now.

He just hums, his breath so hot between your legs. 

“I just want to taste you,” he mumbles, and then he’s there, pressing his tongue between your folds. Pleasure builds slow and steady, his tongue pressing in and out, occasionally swirling around your clit, and you struggle to stay upright. 

“Vislos…fuck.”

He hums again, adding a finger to the mess between your legs, and your arms tremble. He pulls you closer, so you’re just barely hanging over the edge, and you fall back, arching your back into the feeling of his finger pushing in and out of you. He just keeps going, letting the pressure build and build and build, and by god you’re so close.

“Please,” you beg, unable to form other words. “Please,” you ask, hoping he knows what you’re asking for. And thankfully, he does. 

He delves deeper, the sound of his tongue slipping in and out of you so loud and lewd, and he increases the pressure on your clit, circling and circling and then your thighs clench, crushing his head between them, but he keeps going. 

Your gut grows so warm so fast, your nipples tingling, and then you’re lost. An orgasm rips through you, making you tremble around him, your thighs squeezing around his head, your hips bucking against his persistent tongue. It lasts so long you think you might pass out, but then it stops, and you’re gasping for breath, legs limp over his shoulders. 

He rubs your thighs, kissing over the insides of them, making you twitch at the feeling. 

“You okay?”

You don’t even have enough breath to respond so you huff, reaching down to grab his fingers and squeeze. He stands carefully, keeping you from falling off the table, and then you’re in his arms. 

“That was intense,” you mumble into his throat, finally catching your breath.

“Good intense?” he asks, genuinely. He’s always very careful after such a big orgasm, taking care of you before continuing. 

You just nod, the smile on your face evidence enough. 

That night, he holds you as you push out his eggs, twelve beautifully green shelled eggs. They’re soft and pliable, empty of life, but still so important, because very soon they will be alive. And you can’t wait. 

**

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

Vislos nods, despite his pale complexion and the small beads of sweat on his forehead. The ride to his parents is a long one, and you’ve offered to drive multiple times, but he keeps refusing. It started only a few hours in, but he started getting warm, pale, his fingers trembling around the wheel. It reminds you a little too much of how he looked when you first met each other. 

“Why don’t we pull over and get some snacks or something? Your dad said you needed to stay hydrated and keep your energy up.”

He hesitates, clearly not wanting to stop, but he thinks better of it and pulls off the highway, finding a gas station, parking in one of the several empty spots. 

“You stay in the car, I’ll be right back.”

He tries to argue but he can’t even muster the energy to reach across the console. It’s terrifying seeing him like this. 

Inside the gas station, you start grabbing protein bars and several drinks, but you also call Mr. Prathy. Just for some assurance. 

Unfortunately, he doesn’t have easy words to assuage your concerns. 

“Get him some food and water. Gatorade too. Make sure he drinks all of at least one of them. His body is already trying to prepare for birth and he’s getting weak. Can you handle driving the rest of the way? We will meet you at the bottom of the mountain.”

“Yes, I can do that. I’ll call you when we get close.”

“Okay, good girl. Keep my son safe, please.”

“Yes, of course. Talk to you soon.”

You hang up and check out, your bag full of random snacks and drinks, and by the time you get back to the car, Vislos looks worse. 

“Vislos? Hey, wake up.” You pat his cheek gently, his skin hot to touch.

His eyes flutter open and you frown, pulling a water out of the bag. 

“Drink this. I’m going to drive the rest of the way.”

You know he feels miserable because he doesn’t even argue. You just help him walk around to the passenger side and he collapses into the seat with a soft grunt.

He lifts the water to his lips, thankfully able to do that on his own, and you hurry around the other side.

“You need to eat too. Here,” you say, opening one up for him. “Eat this.”

He takes it, to your relief, and starts eating as you pull out of the parking lot, the GPS already pointing you back to the highway.

The rest of the drive you focus half on the road and half on Vislos, monitoring his condition. The food and water seem to help him and he’s more lucid now, but every hour that passes makes his eyes droop further and further. 

He’s resting, his head lulling to the side when you call Mr. Prathy back, letting him know you’re close.

“How’s he doing?”

You glance at him before responding.

“He’s eaten 4 of the protein bars I bought and had 2 waters and a gatorade. He’s still pale but he’s not trembling anymore. He’s asleep right now.”

There’s some voices in the background and Mr. Prathy responds to them before answering you.

“Let him rest. We will meet you soon. You’re doing great.”

You don’t realize how much you need the reassurance until he says that. And then you suddenly feel like you’re on the verge of tears. 

“Is he gonna be okay?”

There’s a long pause, followed by another sound in the background, and then Mr. Prathy sighs softly.

“He will be. He’s strong. Just keep him alive until you get here.”

You just nod, unable to form any more words through the lump in your throat. 

**

Mr. Prathy is waiting for you as soon as you pull onto the road that leads to their house. You put the car in park and he’s there in seconds, checking on his son. 

“Vislos? Can you hear me? Wake up son.”

You watch, unable to move, barely able to breathe. Vislos is slow to respond, his words slurred, and your nerves are shot to hell. 

“Is he okay?” You ask, nearly begging. 

Mr. Prathy doesn’t answer, his brow furrowed. He pats Vislos’ cheek, waking him up again, and you struggle to hold back your tears. Vislos’ mom comes up to your side of the car, distracting you long enough to get you in the back seat. All you can do is watch.

“He’s out of it. We need to go.” Mr. Prathy gets into the backseat just as the car starts moving, and then he’s between the front seats, holding Vislos’ head steady.

“Stay with me son. Dad’s here.”

You’re numb, unable to speak or move or anything…

“...okay? Love, look at me.”

You blink, not even realizing Mr. Prathy is speaking to you. 

“He’s rough but he’ll pull through. You did a good job getting him here.”

You want to sob, to break down, but Mr. Prathy is so sure that everything is going to be fine, and you believe him. 

“He still needs to lay the egg, and his body will know what to do. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You wipe your face and nod, determined to make sure Vislos is ok. 

“Good. My son chose very well. You’ll make him happy.”

Tears prick at your eyes again but you blink them away, focusing instead on Vislos. 

He’s not as pale anymore, thankfully. Probably because of Mr. Prathy sharing his energy with him. He’d once explained it to you but human terms weren’t exactly comparable to the terms he wanted to use, so you didn’t really understand a lot of it. 

The part you do know though is that this process is usually better handled with a lot of people, hence the trip up here in the first place. Mr. Prathy had expected some complications due to Vislos’ half human genes, but watching him now, you’re not entirely sure he thought it would be this bad. 

The rest of the car ride is quiet, occasionally broken by Mr. Prathy checking in with Vislos, and by the time the car pulls up in front of the house, Vislos is talking in full sentences again. Still pale, still shaky, but not out of it. 

You’re helped out of the car by Vislos’ mom, and then Eze and Uma come running down the driveway, helping Vislos stand up. Uma’s smaller form is nearly swallowed by Vislos’ size but he’s stronger than he seems, not even stumbling under his older brother’s weight. They carry him inside, and Mr. Prathy hurries after them, looking a little pale himself. 

“Come on, love. Let’s get you inside.”

You nod and follow, the stress of the last several hours starting to catch up with you. 

Inside, Vislos is on the couch, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Eze is right next to him, talking to him softly, concern written all over his face for his brother. Uma has his head resting on Vislos’ shoulder, one arm wrapped around his back. The genuine concern and care they show for each other nearly makes you cry again. 

Mr. Prathy comes back from the kitchen, wet washcloth in hand. 

“Don’t wait any longer. You may be feeling better now, but it won’t last. You need to do this while your energy is up.”

Despite the gentle authority in his voice, you can still hear the fear just under it. The realization that they could lose their son. You may love Vislos, but they’ve known him his whole life. 

You don’t want to think about it anymore. 

Careful hands pull you from your thoughts, drawing you back to the situation at hand. 

“We’ll leave you two to handle this. We won’t be far though. Call us if anything happens, okay?”

You nod, watching Vislos’ mom pull away, moving to grab Mr. Prathy and head towards the back bedroom. Eze puts his forehead to Vislos’, whispering something you can’t hear, and Vislos nods. Uma is hesitant to leave, but Vislos gives him a lazy smile, reassuring him. And damn if he’s not still insanely attractive, even when he’s unwell. 

The room is suddenly empty, except for you and Vislos, and you look at him, stiff and uncomfortable looking on the couch. He gives you a small smile and holds a hand out, which you take instantly, climbing into his lap. 

“This is not how this was supposed to go.”

Vislos shakes his head, his hands moving around your waist, his thumbs slipping under your shirt. 

“No. But it’ll be a fun story to tell.”

You frown down at him. 

“That’s not funny.”

He chuckles, his eyes bright despite the fever running through him. 

“I thought it was.”

If he wasn’t so miserable, you’d slap him. 

“Stop making bad jokes and tell me what you need me to do. You’ve waited long enough.”

His smile fades a bit, his eyes pinched slightly. 

“I don’t think I can move. Are you ok on the couch?”

You nod then hesitate.

“What if we ruin their couch?”

Vislos huffs, letting his head fall back against the couch cushion. 

“I’m sure they won’t mind us ruining their couch if it means I am alive.”

“Fair point,” you mutter, crawling off his lap. 

There’s already a comforter and pillows laid out in the area, so you lay a blanket over the back of the couch at least, so you can grab it if needed. 

“Can you help me get my pants off?”

You nod, doing just that. He lifts his hips and you pull his sweatpants down, tossing them somewhere on the floor. 

“This feels like deja vu,” you whisper, stripping out of your own clothes and crawling back into his lap, naked. 

His eyes rake up and down over your body, appreciating the view and you can’t help but enjoy it. 

“At least this time, you’re my wife and not the hot stranger next door.”

You raise a brow at that. 

“You thought I was hot? I didn’t even know you noticed me.”

He grins, his hands shifting over your waist and down to grab your ass, squeezing.

“How could I not? You weren’t exactly subtle.”

The sudden realization that he knew exactly what you’d been doing all that time ago…

“You asshole! You should’ve told me about that!”

He huffs, a gorgeously playful look on his face.

“And risk you leaving me out of embarrassment? Never.”

“That is not fair.”

He winks, squeezing your waist.

“I know.”

You shake your head, shifting slightly so you’re sitting more on his lap.

“You’re lucky I love you,” you grumble. 

He nods, serious now, his thumbs making small circles on your ribs. 

“I am. So very lucky.”

The feelings he holds for you are so plain on his face, you can’t help but lean in and kiss him, wanting to taste him. And he doesn’t hesitate to do the same, his lips locking with yours, his fingers moving all over your bare skin. 

His tentacle starts to wiggle between your legs, so incredibly warm.

“Is it time?” you ask, breathless as you pull away.

He lets out a muffled groan, nodding. 

Excitement, fear, anxiety…it all twists inside you, making you nervous. But for everything, you’re so excited for this. It’s what you’ve always wanted. 

“Let’s have a baby,” you whisper in his ear, nipping at his earlobe. He lets out a broken moan and his hands are a vice on your waist. 

You kiss over his neck, finding that one spot that always makes him squirm, and you feel his hips buck up into you, his tentacle a steady pressure between your legs. 

It feels just as amazing as usual, but it’s so much warmer. Nearly searing. So is Vislos’ face.

Everything about him is hot right now, but you’re mostly concerned about the pale complexion starting to come back. 

“Just breathe baby, I’m right here.”

Vislos’ eyes flutter open and he looks up at you. His eyes are glossy and unfocused, but his fingers squeeze you, letting you know he’s still here with you. 

You lean in, putting your forehead to his, and just let him do his thing. You stretch around his tentacle fairly easily, at least until it starts getting to the base. It’s bigger and stiffer than usual, but despite the slight discomfort, it still feels amazing. 

“You’re doing great, baby,” you whisper softly, kissing over his temple, holding him close. His breath brushes over your throat, his chest heaving slightly. You reach for a bottle of water from the end table and he accepts it when you put it to his lips. 

His fingers flex and then squeeze, his hips stuttering and you hear his pained gasp. Bottle of water forgotten, he puts his forehead to your shoulder, trembling heavily. You keep running your fingers through his hair, whispering encouragement every now and then. 

It gets so hot between your legs suddenly that you gasp, fingers tightening in his hair on accident. He whimpers, his abs twitching. It feels like an iron rod is branding you, searing your insides and marking you as his, which is not something you mind at all. And then it starts expanding, spreading you open. 

“That is so much bigger than usual,” you gasp out, looking down between you and him. Pleasure courses through you even as Vislos struggles, his shoulders so tense. 

“You ok,” you ask softly, squeezing the back of his neck. 

He nods, barely perceptible, and you let him focus. He’s getting pale again, more beads of sweat starting to gather on his brow. The tremble in his fingers is more pronounced now and you can tell he’s running out of energy. Fast. 

“Want me to call your family back? You don’t look good.” 

He lets out a pained gasp, his head falling to your chest, nestled just above your breasts. “I’m close. Just give me a few more minutes.”

You hesitate but eventually nod, respecting his wishes. You cradle his head, holding him as he tenses up, his mouth falling open on a silent scream as the egg pushes through him and into you. It’s so heavy and thick, feeling like a damn bowling ball forcing its way inside you. 

It gets stuck for a moment, both of you tense and struggling to breathe, and then it suddenly shifts, slipping into you and all the way through to your cervix. You watch in awe as your stomach gains a little pouch, smaller than the usual batches of eggs, but still noticeable. 

“You did it, baby! You did so well.”

Vislos shudders, breathing heavily. He looks up at you, barely mustering up a small smile before his eyes roll back into the back of his head. His body goes completely limp.

Panic sets in and you lean forward to cup his cheeks.

“Vislos? Hey, wake up! Mr. Prathy!” you cry out, and footsteps come running instantly.

It’s a flurry of movement, too many people, not enough space, and soon Mr. Prathy, Eze, and Uma are all gathered around Vislos, wiping his face and talking softly to each other. 

Vislos’ mom wraps a fluffy robe around you, covering your naked form, and you break down sobbing in her arms. She just holds you close, comforting you while watching her husband and sons. 

**

You wake in a daze, a heavy weight in your middle. The room swirls around you, the lamp on the bedside table barely illuminating the room. 

Gentle hands settle on your shoulders and you blink up at Uma.

“Hey, sleepyhead. How are you feeling?”

You groan, letting your head fall back to the pillow, covering your face. 

“Like I got hit by a freight train. How’s Vislos?”

Uma hums, pulling your hand away from your face to offer a glass of water.

“He’s sleeping still. But Dad says he’ll be ok. Mom is with him now. She sent me to wake you up and see how you were doing.”

The relief that bowls through you nearly puts you right back to sleep. 

“Can I see him?”

Uma nods, slipping off the edge of the bed. 

“Of course. He’s in the living room. I’ll get you some food.”

You’re so incredibly thankful for Vislos and his family. They have never once made you feel like an outsider.

You slip out of the bed, surprised to find you’re dressed in your pajamas, but grateful nonetheless. At least you weren’t naked around his family anymore. 

There’s a small lamp on in the living room but it hardly gives off enough light. You can just barely make out the outline of Vislos’ mom sitting up on the couch. You slip into the room quietly, moving to the front of the couch to find Vislos snoring softly, his head laying in his mom’s lap. Eze is passed out sitting on the floor, leaning back against the end of the couch, a hand on Vislos’ ankle. His mom sets her books down, and runs her fingers through Vislos’ hair. 

“Hi love,” she says softly, giving you a smile. 

You smile back at her, happy to see Vislos is really just sleeping soundly.

“How is he?” you ask quietly, not wanting to disturb them. 

She smiles down at you as you settle down next to the couch, setting a hand on Vislos’ curled fingers. 

“Much better now. He woke up about an hour ago to make sure you were alright and then he passed out again. It will take him some time to recover, but he’ll be fine.”

You nod, pulling his fingers to your lips.

“Where is Mr. Prathy?”

“Sleeping. He overdid himself, even if he won’t admit it. Eze took over a few hours ago, making sure Vislos had enough energy to recover.”

“I’m sorry we caused such a stir. I didn’t know it would be so…scary.”

She laughs softly, still running her fingers through Vislos’ hair. 

“Kids will scare you, whether they’re human or not. It’s just how it goes. It took me forever to even convince Prathy to try. I think he was worried something like this would happen to us. But we didn’t have the help Vislos has now.”

You lean into the couch, still holding Vislos’ hand. 

“Was it hard? To adapt to having non-human kids?”

She hums softly.

“Of course it was. I think you’ll find that there’s an adjustment that comes with any big change like this. But Prathy and I worked together, and we figured it out. Just like you and Vislos will. I’m sure of it.”

Her words help ease some of the anxiety looping around in your brain. At least for now. 

Footsteps sound behind you and Uma appears from the kitchen, holding a plate and what looks like a glass of orange juice. 

“Here, you should eat.”

You take the plate and thank him, devouring the sandwich so quickly he chuckles and gets up to make you another one without you having to ask. You’re halfway through the second sandwich when Vislos wakes up, his eyes fluttering open.

You nearly choke on your food in your attempt to talk to him.

“Baby, hi,” you whisper, still coughing from the sandwich going down the wrong pipe. 

Vislos groans softly, rubbing his face.

“Hi.” His voice sounds worse than yours. Like he’s been gargling razor blades. 

He looks around, seeing Eze on the floor, then his mom behind him, and he sighs. 

“How long have I been out?”

“A little over 24 hours. Do you want to sit up?”

He groans but nods, lightly kicking Eze’s hand off his ankle, waking Eze from his sleep. 

He wavers slightly when he sits up, but he doesn’t pass out again. Thankfully. 

“I need to go check on your father. Don’t stand up too fast, and make sure you eat something. Uma!” his mom calls, drawing Uma out of the kitchen. 

“Make your brother a sandwich or two, and put some in the fridge for your dad.”

Uma nods, doing just that. Eze groans, standing up off the floor, stretching.

“Remind me never to sleep on the floor again. My back is going to hate me for that.”

"No one asked you to do that. In case you decide to blame me for this later.”

Eze chuckles, patting Vislos on the back softly.

“I only have one twin. You can’t get rid of me that easily. But I swear to god if you scare me like that again, I’ll kill you myself.”

Vislos smirks, slapping Eze’s arm off his shoulder. 

“Good luck with that. You couldn’t beat me and you know it.”

“Right now, you’re a pretty easy target,” Eze says grinning, lightly slapping the back of Vislos’ head. 

Vislos huffs and slaps his hand away, and then Eze turns to you, still grinning.

“Take care of my brother. He’s not good at doing that for himself, apparently.”

“Shut up, Eze. Go eat something before you pass out,” Vislos interrupts before you can even try to answer. 

Eze gives him a mock salute and then disappears into the kitchen, now quarreling with Uma if the noise echoing from the kitchen is anything to go by. 

Vislos still looks tired, but he has a light in his eyes now, one that was definitely not there yesterday. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling better?” you ask, still scared he might keel over. 

He looks back at you and nods, pulling you up onto the couch, tucking you up against his side. 

“Much better. How are you feeling?” he asks softly, his large hand settling over your stomach. 

“Surprisingly amazing, despite everything. I can’t believe we really did it. We’re having a baby.”

“We are,” Vislos agrees, his grin dazzling. He leans in for a kiss and you accept, so thankful to see him back in a playful mood and no longer on death’s door. 

“No more scaring me like that, okay?”

Vislos pulls away and nods, serious again.

“I promise. I shouldn’t have waited so long. Next time, we’ll be better prepared.”

You raise a brow.

“Next time?”

He just huffs, a smirk forming on his lips. 

“Of course. I expect at least a family of 10.”

“Ha. I think your brain is still scrambled. Try that again.”

He rolls his eyes but kisses your forehead, making a big wet noise as he pulls away.

“I guess I can settle for 5.”

You can’t hold back your laugh anymore, and it feels so good to relax and fall back into your familiar rhythm with him. His face softens and he cups your cheek, caressing it. 

“I love your laugh.”

You roll your eyes but lean in, putting a kiss to his temple and then pull away.

“I love you. All of you. Let’s go to bed.”

His eyes glitter up at you as you stand, and he doesn’t put up any fight as he follows you down the hall to his old bedroom, the same one you share every time you visit. 

Both of you fall asleep in seconds, his arm wrapped around you, his hand protectively covering your belly. And it’s probably the best sleep you’ve had in a while. 

**

“Emma Grace, get down from there!”

You watch in horror as your 4 year old daughter dangles precariously from the tree in the front yard, far too high up for your liking. 

Vislos, the ass, plucks her up out of the tree and blows raspberries into her belly, making her squeal. 

“How did she even get up there?” you ask, exasperated. Vislos is an amazing father, and always will be, but sometimes you wondered where his brain was. 

“I put her up there. She said she wanted to go high. Isn’t that right, baby girl?”

Emma Grace nods emphatically, her blonde curls bouncing on her head. Her dress is absolutely ruined, and she has a scrape on her knee, but you suppose it could be worse. At least the dress can be washed. 

“Ok well next time, don’t let me find out. I can’t handle that.”

Vislos chuckles and nods, kissing your cheek and getting Emma Grace to do that same. 

“You heard Mommy. Next time, we won't tell her you went high!” he says, just as he tosses her up into the air, making her squeal and giggle all over again. 

You roll your eyes and shake your head, but…it’s endearing. She loves him so much. And so do you. 

“How’s Levi? Did he finally go to sleep?”

You nod, accepting his arm around your waist, heading back to the house. Emma Grace scrambles out of his arms and takes off, nearly tripping over her feet at the foot of the stairs. 

“He passed out about 30 minutes ago, milk drunk and with a clean diaper. Your mom is watching him.”

Vislos nods, grinning, lazily pressing you up against the stair railing. 

“Guess that means we can have some alone time, huh? I haven’t had you to myself in too long.”

You grin, looking up at him, his eyes glittering. 

“The last time you said that, you convinced me to have another baby.” The very baby currently stretching out your belly, pressing up against Vislos’ abs. 

He smirks, leaning in. “And you look very beautiful carrying our newest baby.”

You slap his shoulder but it does nothing but make him nip at your ear. 

“I thought we agreed on 2?” you say, but you’re distracted. He’s kissing over your neck, under your jaw, pulling your shirt to the side to mouth at your collar bone. 

“I agreed to at least 2,” he mumbles, his breath hot on your skin. 

“Semantics,” you grumble, his hands drifting under your shirt, cupping both sides of your heavy pregnant belly. You don’t really have much reason to fight him off. You’re enjoying it too much. 

His hips press up against you and you moan, your head falling back as his lips explore further, chasing every inch of naked skin–

“Ahem.”

You pull away in a hurry, pushing Vislos off of you. He doesn’t even seem to care that you've been caught.

“Eze, my dear brother. What brings you to our neck of the woods?”

The smirk on Eze’s face is embarrassing enough. 

“I just came to give my congratulations on the third child. And to let you know I’ll be heading back down the mountain soon.”

Vislos nods, stepping off the porch steps. 

“Be careful. Let us know you’re safe,” Vislos says, pulling Eze in for a big hug. Eze hugs him back just as tight, his forearm muscles bulging slightly under his rolled up flannel sleeves. 

“You know I will. Send me pictures of the newest little one when they arrive,” he says, this time addressing you.

You nod, smiling up at him. “Of course we will. Emma Grace is going to be so upset you’re leaving. Let me go grab her so she can say bye.”

You find her playing with her small wood-carved animals, a beautiful gift from Mr. Prathy for her 4th birthday. She takes off out the door when you tell her Eze is leaving and Eze lifts her up into his arms, spinning her around in the air. 

It’s a beautiful sight, and you still think it’s a pity Eze doesn’t want any children of his own. He’d be a great father. But, alas, it’s his choice and you would never force that on him. Heaven knows you have enough children to spare. 

“Ok baby girl, Uncle Ay-Yay has to go. We can call him later when he gets to his place.”

Emma Grace pouts but she doesn’t fight it when Vislos pulls her out of Eze’s arms and into his own. Her nickname for Eze still cracks you up, but it doesn’t look like it’ll change anytime soon. Not that Eze seems to mind. 

“I’ll call you when I get there, okay? Love you, E.G.!” 

Emma Grace responds with her own subdued response, and then Eze waves one last time. 

“I’ll be back. Love you guys. Stay safe.”

Vislos comes to join you on the porch, Emma Grace sniffling in his arms, and all three of you watch Eze’s car pull away and head back down the mountain. It’s always bittersweet seeing him leave, but you know it has to be this way. It’s not like he has options here for laying. 

“Come on, baby girl. Let’s go start getting dinner ready. You want to help me?”

That gets her excited again, and soon she’s forgotten all about her Uncle Ay-Yay leaving. 

That night, you lay in bed, unable to sleep. Vislos snores softly behind you, his arm tucked around you as always. It’s annoying how easily he falls asleep, especially after laying a batch of eggs, but you can’t really fault him for your racing mind. 

Eze leaves every other month to find someone to lay his eggs with. But unlike Vislos, he has no desire to settle down and find someone permanent. From what Vislos has told you, there’s a surprising number of kink communities that happily accept Eze. And while Vislos refuses to go into detail about it all, you can’t help but find yourself curious. Do these people have to sign an NDA? Or maybe he tells them it’s a toy? Or something else? 

Every single time he leaves, you find yourself wondering about it, and when you ask Vislos, he just says he doesn’t want to talk about his brother’s sex life. Which, that’s fair you guess. Vislos knows Eze is safe, and that’s what matters to him. 

You couldn’t imagine yourself being ok with that though. You’re thankful every day that Vislos wanted to settle down, that he wanted to have kids with you and make a life, despite the hardships you’ll both likely face.

Though you don’t want to admit it, having a big family sounds really nice. Especially since you were an only child growing up. 

He shifts behind you, a tired hum coming from him as he kisses over your shoulder, pulling your hair out of the way.

“You okay?”

You nod, looking up at him over your shoulder. “Just thinking.”

“Anything I can help you with?”

You shake your head, smiling. “Nothing you haven’t heard before. Though, I was also thinking about the number of kids we should settle on.”

He rests his chin on your shoulder, raising a brow.

“And? What did you decide?”

“I decided,” you say softly, turning over so you can look at him fully, propping your head up on your hand. “That we should just see what happens. No plan, no set number. Just…go with the flow, and we can stop when we’re ready to stop.”

He nods, his thumb running small circles over the side of your swollen middle. 

“I’m good with that. Who knows, maybe 3 is our favorite number.”

You huff, rolling your eyes. You know without a doubt that he will want at least one more after this one. He’s just insatiable like that. 

“If it was up to you, we would never stop.”

He chuckles, pushing you onto your back, hovering over you.

“What can I say, I find my wife very appealing.”

He keeps you from responding by kissing you, tucking his thigh between your legs. Pleasure shoots through you at such an alarming rate you nearly cum just from that little touch. 

“One more time?” you beg. “Before Levi wakes up again, and I have to feed him. Please?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” he answers with a grin, settling between your legs, his cock already pressing up against you through his pajama pants. 

“Insatiable. I swear.”

“Only for you my love.”

You huff, but you can’t deny you crave him, nearly every day. He just does it for you, and you hope that never ends. 

As he makes love to you, making you feel every ounce of pleasure you can, you think maybe…just maybe, you can have that family of 10 with him one day. 

THE END

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[heavywithourbabies]

I see all the posts from women claiming they want to be bred, but I wonder if they really want everything that comes with it. I wonder how many of them actually want kids? How many want to start a family? And most importantly, how many want to get heavy and swollen with their babies?

Because that’s what I want most.

I want to breed. Want to cum nice and deep and coat her cervix with my warm seed. I want to go down on her constantly until I can tell by taste she is pregnant. And then I can finally get the thing I want most.

Nine months of watching, worshipping, and destroying her body as she grows fecund with my babies. I want to take care of her and pamper her like crazy but I also want to fill her swollen pregnant pussy over and over. Want to see every inch of her become swollen and more womanly. To tease and gently suck on big tits aching with milk. To run my hands over hurting hips that keep getting wider to cradle my kids. To kiss her gravid belly all over and to trace stretch marks with my finger tips and tongue. To make her feel beautiful when she is feeling like a beached whale. To fuck her like an animal when she’s desperate for any kind of physical relief and the only thing that feels good anymore is my rock hard cock grinding inside that thick cunt. And most of all I want to fuck her into labor when she’s massive and overdue, practically in tears to finally be done and mercifully give birth.

I wonder how many women want that? How many fantasize not just of creampies but also a huge baby belly. How many want to feel their baby daddies cum leaking between their thighs while the baby sluggishly stretches and kicks in her womb.

I want to breed. I want to impregnate. And more than anything I want to treat my woman like a fertility goddess and a swollen cum dumpster of a baby factory.

[imagineyourepregnant]

Rush Hour

AN: Not a prompt fill, but I wrote something very aro/ace self-indulgent for myself, and I thought it might be worth sharing. I’ve never tried writing anything like this before. I’m just so glad this blog exists.

________

You have a special toy. You aren’t entirely sure how it works, but you don’t care. It does exactly what you want from it, and that’s all that matters. It’s a simple process: you insert the toy, your womb fills with some kind of thick gel, and when you’re big enough, you take the toy out and enjoy your belly for some time.

You have discovered that the toy is timed perfectly to match your long commute home from work. An hour of driving, an hour of building up to the most pleasurable nights of your life. You dream of a life where you could use it every day, but you keep it for special occasions. You know there can be too much of a good thing, and you don’t want to spoil yourself.

It’s a Friday evening, and you make a quick stop on the bathroom on your way out of work to insert the toy. It’s not a big thing, only about the size of a tampon. You’re not supposed to get pleasure from it being inside you, but rather from what it does to you. Honestly you think it’s enough. If the toy acted as a dildo as well, you would never be able to use it and drive at the same time.

Keep reading

[wereknightpreg]

An oblivious adventurer comes across some hot springs. They gratefully shed all their equipment in one go and dive in. The water's heavenly.

When the heat has relaxed them completely, they're too sleepy to notice any movement in the water. By the first touch it's already too late. They can only hang on as something smooth and girthy slips inside.

It's in so deep, so quickly. And it's undulating, setting a ruthless pace and making the adventurer throw their head back and scream in utter terror melting to confused pleasure. It's almost like they're melting, dissolving into the water, until they don't know where their body begins and ends.

The first egg, fist-sized and soft-skinned, squeezes inside unnoticed. Quickly followed by another. And another.

Half a dozen sit in the adventurer's womb by the time they notice anything. A twinge has them looking down at their formerly flat stomach. It's round now, a little swell sitting ominously low.

But their eyes skip further down, to the weirdly formless being between their legs. It's hard to see, translucent, invisible but for its frenetic movement.

If the water were calm and the watcher alert and keen-eyed, they might be able to spot an overstuffed egg sac emptying swiftly.

They might have predicted the adventurer's fate before the creature's subtle venom made them lethargic and pliant.

As it is, they don't have to the presence of mind to even contemplate escape. Which is why the creature has pulled this exact same trick many times before.

And it's succeeded again.

By the time the adventurer's mind starts to clear, it will have already made its way deep, deep into the spring.

They come to in placid water, only disturbed by the minute movements of--or rather, in--their swollen stomach.

The little twinges and twitches draw the adventurer's attention, but their current predicament still fails to register.

Their gaze and fingertips explore the ample surface without conscious thought.

Dazed, they rise out of the water on shaky legs. Unexpected heaviness pulls them down.

They scramble on the rocks to stay upright. Unfamiliar weight hangs under them. They look down.

A stranger's body. That's their first instinct. It's unbelievable that the blatantly gravid belly is theirs.

Stumbling onto dry land and clumsily pulling on their clothes breaks the spell. The tunic won't go down. The trousers won't go up.

And between them sits an egg-stuffed womb that undulates gently, like water around a swimmer's skin.

The way back to town takes thrice as long as their entire trip so far.

By the time they collapse on the healer's doorstep, the first egg is already crowning.

Miles away, in a desolate landscape, two tired mercenaries stumble upon a hotspring. While saying a little prayer of thanks, their armour is already hitting the ground. They get in without a second thought.

[exponenshul]

Life Drawing

SYNOPSIS: A pregnant woman is offered big money to pose as a nude model for a two hour figure drawing class, but her water breaks right before she's set to start. Can she make it through the class without a problem? (Contains pregnancy and birth. Reader discretion advised.)

::::::::::

Faith patiently rode up the elevator, trying to keep her nerves in check. This was a big day for her...she had to keep her cool.

She was currently full term pregnant, and certainly showed it. Her belly was impressively full and round, skin smooth and taut. She looked like she could go into labor any moment. That wasn't why she was there today, however.

Professionally, Faith worked as an art model. For years she went to art schools, posing nude for students' figure drawings. It was a role that took a lot of confidence and patience. Since getting pregnant, not only had she needed to change her techniques, but business was booming.

Getting a model to pose was one thing; getting a pregnant one was another. She was a hot commodity currently, and the school she was visiting was willing to pay her a lot of money to do a session. Enough money that she wouldn't dare pass it up, even though she was ready to pop any day.

And so, Faith rode the elevator up to the fourth floor, where the figure drawing studios were located. She took a deep breath, steeling herself to face the students and do her best work.

Once she arrived, she first met the older lady professor, who greeted her warmly and with gratitude.

"Thank you for coming in today, Faith!" The professor said. "It's not often we get to draw from a model with your, well...body type! Haha."

Faith chuckled. "Well, thank you for having me! Always a pleasure. I'm excited to get to work."

The professor guided Faith down the hall and to the classroom. The students were all present already, seated behind easels and pads of paper, forming a circle around a platform in the middle of the room, where Faith would be posing.

"Class, this is Faith, our model for today," The professor announced. "Please give her a warm welcome and treat her with respect!"

Faith looked around the room, smiling and giving a small wave. Typical for tired college students, most looked to her with blank expressions, though she got some smiles back. She noticed that many kept glancing toward her belly, but that was to be expected. Her pregnancy would no doubt be the focus of the session.

"I'm going to go change and then I'll be ready to start!" Faith said warmly. The professor prompted the students to take out their drawing materials while Faith left to find the bathroom.

::::::::::

She was changing, yes, but also realized the importance of emptying her bladder before having to sit on a platform for two hours. As she sat, she was steeling her nerves. Although she'd done this many times before, it was still anxiety-inducing having to stand naked in front of so many watching eyes. And the more pregnant she got, the more she felt like students were...ogling her. Like she was a spectacle. But for the money she'd be getting, she had to perform at her best.

Sighing, she patted her belly. She'd just felt a tug in her middle. Perhaps her baby was nervous as well?

But then, she felt a certain release inside her. She gasped as she felt a torrent of fluid gush out from her crotch.

Horrified, she looked between her legs and into the toilet bowl. It definitely was not pee. But that meant...

She'd been feeling these sort of cramps earlier in the day and the previous night, but she'd figured it was just indigestion, or Braxton hicks at the most. But seeing that her water had just broken, Faith realized she was in labor.

Faith cursed. Why did this have to happen now, when she was about to score one of her highest paying gigs in years?! There was no way she'd get an opportunity like this again, especially after she had the baby...

She sat a moment longer as her mind raced. Well, labor typically lasted many hours, right? If she could get through the session, she could fulfill her job and still get to the hospital soon after...right?

Faith rubbed her belly and took a deep breath. "Hang on, baby. We've got some poses to do."

::::::::::

Faith reentered the classroom wearing nothing but a thin robe. The students turned their heads toward her expectantly.

"Welcome back! Are you ready to start, Faith?" The professor asked.

"Sure am," Faith said, trying her best to sound enthusiastic. She made her way to the center of the room as the professor explained the plan to the class.

"All right students, like I said, be respectful of our model's time and services. Absolutely NO cell phones or cameras are allowed to be out while she is in the room. We are going to start with shorter, more dynamic poses and work our way toward longer poses."

Faith took a deep breath. This was all standard stuff. She'd be fine.

She got up onto the platform, where there was a wooden chair, a gallon of water with some cups, and a heating fan waiting for her, to keep her comfortable as she worked. As she poured herself some water and turned on the fan, the professor continued on.

"We'll start with ten one-minute poses to start off and get warmed up. These will be quick, so get down the essentials."

As the students prepped their drawing materials and paper pads, Faith began undoing her robe. Students glanced at her, trying not to seem like they were staring. But that was all right, they were going to be staring at her anyway—it was just part of the lesson.

"After each set of poses, we'll take short breaks to review our work and let Faith rest," The professor said, pulling a timer from her pocket. "Now, let's begin!"

With that, Faith removed her robe, setting it on the chair behind her, and revealing her fully nude pregnant form to the students. They took in her curves, her engorged breasts, the swell of her belly. All from a professional standpoint, of course. They were there to learn, not to ogle.

Things started off pretty smoothly. Faith began with her usual quick, dynamic poses—stretching her arms out as if reaching for something, twisting around, kneeling—all things that showed off her pregnant curves. The students worked quickly and diligently, moving their drawing implements deftly to capture her form with each new pose. Nobody spoke, so the only sounds were of pencil to paper, breathing, and the soft, meditative music the professor had set to play.

Between the seventh and eighth poses, though, Faith felt it—a contraction. It was strong, signaling that she was definitely in labor. Her body tensed and she grimaced, but she tried to play it off, making it seem like it was just a part of her switching poses. If she started visibly showing that she was in labor, she'd have to give up the job for sure.

She powered through the rest of the one-minute poses without another hitch. As the students flipped their sketchbook pages and sharpened their pencils, she took a breather and glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes in, another hour and forty-five to go.

The professor got the class's attention. "All right, students! Now that we're warmed up, we're going to move on to the next portion—six poses of five minutes each."

Faith braced herself. She had to really focus now.

"Now is the time to start focusing on details," The professor continued. "Get the basic shapes down, then fill in the values to really capture our model's form. Let's begin!"

Faith brought out her repertoire of mid-length poses, ones that she could hold for a longer period of time but were still somewhat dynamic. For the first one, she stood with her legs apart, hands pressed against her back and jutting her belly out. No problems there.

Just before the pose was set to end, though, she felt another tug in her gut, slightly stronger than the last. She exhaled and bent forward a bit, moving one of her arms to hold her belly. A couple of the students gave her a look.

After a moment, the professor's stop watch beeped. She looked at Faith and said lightly, "Thank you, but if you could, please hold the pose up until the timer goes off."

"R-right," Faith said, somewhat embarrassed. She never broke a pose before the time was up like that. "Sorry, the baby was just...kicking."

She had to use more self control. It wouldn't be good to have the professor annoyed at her, or worse, suspicious of what was happening.

Faith kept working through the next two poses. She chose positions that were dynamic, but that were easy to hide any pain or flinching if need be. The next contraction came in between the third and fourth poses in the set, so she was able to be discreet about it. They were ten minutes apart now...not so bad. She was going to be fine.

Still, her heart rate was picking up as she tried to run through a game plan in her mind. As soon as the poses were done, she would go to the hospital. But should she really be driving in her condition? She could take the bus, but no, that would take too long...and an ambulance would be expensive, and cause a commotion...

She was near the end of the fifth pose and weighing her options as the next contraction hit, but she handled it well. She braced herself and held her breath, and she only barely twitched. She just hoped that nobody was able to notice her muscles contracting from their vantage points, because she was certainly feeling them.

Feeling confident as they entered the last five-minute pose, Faith went for a more dynamic angle, lunging forward with her arms raised as if she were running. She thought it would be fine, but to her discontent, another contraction hit just past the second minute. It caught her more off guard and she winced slightly, her back leg shaking for a moment until she could get a hold of herself.

That was definitely less than ten minutes. She glanced at the clock...was it eight minutes? No, seven...?

Her anxiety was rising by the time the five-minute poses were through and the class took a brief respite. After putting on her robe, she sat down, drank some water and took deep breaths. The professor walked around the classroom, admiring the students' work.

"These are all wonderful," she said proudly. "Faith, would you like to come see some of the sketches?"

"Ah, I think I'll wait and see some later," Faith breathed, as politely as she could. In all honesty, she was most focused on staying as still as possible so she could focus on riding out the contractions. She felt another one as she sat there and cursed under her breath, rubbing her bulging, restless belly. Soon, baby, just hold on...

After a few more minutes, it was time to start the second half of the session. They were an hour in and had an hour left to go.

The professor brought some large cushions up to the platform Faith was sitting at. "Since we'll be starting on our longer poses, I thought you could use these to stay comfortable."

Faith appreciated the gesture, but knew she was going to be far from comfortable.

With that, the professor went back and addressed the class. "Okay, students! You've done well so far. Now we're going to try some longer, more detail-oriented drawings. Spend time on studying how light falls across the model's body, how her muscles are laid out under the skin. We will do three poses of fifteen minutes each, with short breaks in between."

Faith gulped and steeled herself. All right, she could do this. She just had to finish the last few poses. Get through fifteen minutes, three times. Secure the payday. Then she should call an Uber and get out of here to deliver her baby.

For the first pose, she set up the cushions and lay down on her side, one arm propping her up and the other draped across her belly. She knew she would have to ride out two or three contractions during this pose, so she needed to be as relaxed as possible.

The students began to sketch and draw, watching her intently, focusing on every part of her. To a degree, she was used to this, but right now she was feeling particularly vulnerable. They were all watching her progress through labor, and they didn't know it...or did they? Could they tell when her naked body tensed up? Did they know she was in labor but just weren't saying anything...? No, no, she was passing it off just fine. No need to make herself more anxious than she already was.

The next contraction came. It was the most intense and drawn out yet. She held her breath and ever-so-subtly tightened her grip on the swell of her belly. Her baby was shifting inside her, ready to be born.

Faith could feel herself getting sweaty from the exertion and the anxiety. Labor was progressing much more quickly than she thought. She tried to control her breathing, but her heart was starting to pound. Each minute was going by painfully slow, yet all too fast at the same time. By the time the next contraction hit her, less than five minutes later, she felt like she hadn't even gotten any rest in between. And yet, she kept her pose diligently.

Breathing through the tight, painful squeezing of her muscles, Faith tried to stay focused. She had an idea of what she would do for the next two poses. Then, in between them, she could quickly use her phone to call over an Uber, so that it would be waiting for her as soon as the class ended. She was realizing now that there wasn't going to be much time to spare.

The next contraction gripped her hard. Her breath caught and she tensed up in a way that was definitely noticeable. Luckily, the professor was distracted admiring the students' work and the students themselves couldn't have cared less.

Faith clenched her jaw. According to the clock, it had been only four minutes since the last one. Her contractions were rapidly getting closer together, and each one was stronger than the last. Would she really be able to do this?

Mercifully, after that contraction, the pose ended. Faith sat up, doing her best to act natural, but she was getting tired. She would be tired at this point in any normal pose session, but right now she was really spent. It was going to take a good amount of willpower to even get into her next position.

She looked around for her phone, wanting to schedule her Uber ride. She then realized it was still in her bag with her clothes, across the room. Well, so much for that plan. There was no way she wanted to get up and walk around right now...surely that would only accelerate her labor.

Another contraction. It was strong, blinding. This labor was going way too fast. She could feel the baby moving down.

"Faith, are you ready for the next pose?" The professor inquired.

"Yes," Faith managed. "Just...a moment."

Fighting the pain and pressure, she eased herself into the next pose. It was on her knees and elbows, head held up as best as possible, belly hanging low, grazing the soft cushions beneath her. Nothing too strenuous, and at this angle, she hoped gravity would help her delay her labor.

It was a good plan that unfortunately did not yield much success. Faith kept facing more and more contractions, each one causing her to strain. She was quickly learning how to cover it up, but there were things she couldn't help, like her belly gently lifting up from the cushion when her muscles tensed, and her breath catching when the pain gripped her. She just needed to be discreet enough that no one would call her out...but this labor was relentless.

Nearing the end of the pose, Faith was of course hit with another contraction- she had lost count of how many there were at this point. They had to be less than three minutes apart. With this one, she could feel the mass within her shift, like the baby's head was entering her birth canal. She gritted her teeth but could not prevent the rough grunt that escaped her throat.

This time, several people noticed. Eyes glanced up from sketch pads.

The professor tilted her head. "Faith? Are you all right?"

"Yeah, all good," Faith lied. "Just...a cough."

"All right. Well, very good- let's take a short rest before the final pose, class."

It felt almost impossible for Faith to move, but she managed to slowly get back into a casual sitting position. She was sweating bullets now, palms slick, hair matted, the skin on her belly glistening. Her belly rested heavily on her as the mass settled into her pelvis. The strain was becoming overwhelming...she desperately wanted to be in a cool hospital room, epidural at the ready...but she was almost done here. One more pose. Just fifteen minutes remained.

Plus, she had a plan for this last one. It would be the perfect way to-

"Faith?" The professor called. "If you don't mind, I have a request for this last pose."

Faith's heart pounded and she breathed heavily. "S-sure, of course."

"If you could, I'd like you to go on your back, sitting up slightly. And if you could have your knees up, hands resting on your thighs...I think this would be an important pose for us to study."

Faith's mind reeled. She couldn't believe it...the professor was asking her to get into what was unmistakably a birthing position. But there was no way she could refuse. "N-no problem...just...just give me a second."

She tried to hype herself up. She'd spent years in this practice building stamina and learning how to endure. She was strong, she could do this. But as she got into position, resting back against the cushions, she was hit with a contraction- and an undeniable, instinctual feeling.

She was feeling the urge to push. Already, she was fully dilated. There wasn't much time. The baby was coming now!

No, no! She thought to herself, hopelessly trying to keep her cool. We're almost done! I can't give birth now!

The professor must have seen the look on the poor woman's face. "Are you sure this is comfortable for you, Faith?"

"I'm fine," Faith grunted, as she sat back with her knees up, legs spread. "Just start the timer."

And thus, the final countdown began. Faith needed to gather every ounce of her willpower to make it through, but her strength was dwindling. Her eyes twitched as she struggled to maintain a straight face. Her arms and legs spasmed at random as she tried to keep from trembling. And now, the contractions were just about on top of each other. Her baby was definitely moving its way down into her birth canal, and she was naked with her legs splayed. But she had to hold on.

Five minutes passed. The urge to push was becoming unbearable. Faith's belly quaked and heaved with her breathing, now dripping with sweat. She desperately wanted to clutch it, to try and coax the baby into staying inside, but she was forced to keep her hands on her thighs. Her nails dug into her flesh painfully as she tensed. By not pushing, she was going against every natural instinct. Feeling the baby slowly push through her was torturous. Her body was screaming at her, but still, she did not give in.

"Mmph..." she murmured, behind pursed lips. Quiet, but again audible enough to be heard. Her eyes darted around the classroom. The students who had been observing her body and drawing it for the past couple hours were beginning to tell that something was off...she could feel it. She saw it in the way some of them looked at her longer, or differently, with hints of concern in their eyes. Some of them glanced at each other, perhaps to see if anyone else was noticing. Would any of them say something? Did they think it was part of the session- that she was just a great actor?

Ten minutes in, Faith was faltering. Should she just throw in the towel, cry out that she was in labor? Would that be better or worse for her? And just how was she planning on leaving after the pose was done...? She felt the baby move down by just another bit, and her jaw clenched. She was so close. She just had to keep going.

The urge to push hit her at its strongest then, panic surging in her heart. Holding back was like trying not to breathe now...very soon she was going to have to give in, just to release some of the pressure.

Another contraction, and the baby's head forced through her more. She could feel the burning of the mass nearing her exit. Her breathing was shaky and ragged, her composure cracking. Just hold on, just hold on...

With only a minute to go, Faith was about to give in. Her muscles squeezed unbearably, her bulging belly tight and heaving. Her toes curled and her back ached. One more contraction and she could take it no longer. She listened to her body and bore down ever so slightly. The head inched toward being born. She could feel her vulva beginning to bulge out from the mass behind it. This was it, she'd run out of time, and there was no stopping it now. She began to tremble. Everyone was going to see it, her pussy lips slowly parting, the head of her baby starting to...

"All right, and that's time!" The professor called. "Great work, everyone. Put your pencils down so we can go around and admire everyone's work."

The students stopped where they were, putting away their tools and organizing their papers.

The professor turned toward Faith. "And everyone say thank you to our model, who did an amazing job for us today!"

A spattering of tired-to-enthusiastic "thank yous" rang out.

Noticing that the model had not moved, the professor continued, "...And Faith, we're all done now, so feel free to pack up."

Faith did not respond.

Quizzically, the professor called out again. "Faith...?"

Then, one student chimed in, who was still looking at Faith with wide eyes and a furrowed brow. "Ummm...."

Another student stood up. "Oh shit, I think she's giving birth!"

Everyone in the classroom looked back at Faith. Sure enough, the top of a baby's head could be plainly seen crowning between her legs.

At this point, Faith threw her head back and bellowed out. "Ooooooh GOD I'M SORRY! THE BABY'S COMING!"

All at once, the room turned to chaos. Most stood frozen, unsure of what to do. The professor, completely in shock, scrambled to grab her phone and call 911. A couple students broke the no-phones rule and took pictures. Some even flipped to new pages in their sketchbooks and began to feverishly draw what was happening.

Faith, with all resolve and shame out the window, finally pushed with all her might. She grunted and moaned at the top of her lungs as she brought the baby to a full crown. Embracing her current position, she spread her legs as wide as they would go and arched her back, feeling unmistakable relief even through the pain. She couldn't think about the class anymore, or the money...all she could focus on was delivering her baby safely.

After holding out for so long, the baby was able to come quickly. After another few pushes while the class around her scrambled, the head popped out with a gush of fluid. Some students turned away, grossed out. Others watched intently, eager to get some once-in-a-lifetime studies in.

Finally, with the last of her remaining willpower, Faith bore down again, birthing the shoulders and allowing the rest of the baby to slide out onto the platform in front of her. The classroom fell silent, save for the sound of a crying, healthy newborn.

::::::::::

An ambulance quickly arrived, and Faith and her baby were brought in and taken care of. She had a lot of recovery to do, both physical and emotional.

At first, Faith was sure her...'performance' was going to get her in a world of trouble. Surely, she'd get no money, lose her job, and possibly get punished for some sort of indecent exposure.

On the contrary, Faith was surprised to receive double to money she was originally promised. The professor told her that apparently she had amazed everyone with her strength and that they all felt honored that she was willing to share such a special moment with them. Between that and all the news stories that were to follow, she'd forever be known as the first (and only) nude model to give birth during a session.

All in all, it was worth the commitment. And if she ever got pregnant again...well, if the money was right, she'd be willing to work right up until her due date.

::::::::::

END

[pregobirthlvr]

please give me your horniest birth scenario,, make me leak

My horniest birth scenario…

I think that would be if I was pregnant with multiples, how many I’m not quite sure. I know more than two at least. My belly would hang low and heavy between my legs. I would be bedridden by my partners wishes. And of course naked 24/7. Not only would they request it but I would want to show off my overly pregnant form at any cost. I would rub my huge belly, the one I can no longer see over or even get up with. I would lay in bed, or on the rare occasion the couch, and just experiment being this pregnant. We’d try our hardest to postpone the birth, making me overdue and huge. Doctors and our midwife would beg for me to be induced but I would just tell them we’re waiting for it to happen naturally. That of course meant after the hours of labor I would be pushing out a much larger baby. Still I waited. Then when my contraction started I excitedly cried out. The pain was almost unbearable but I tired to relax through each painful contraction. Until it was time and I was screaming and egging for the baby to come out. The head tearing and ripping my birth canal apart as it forced its way out of me, I would scream the entire time from pain, but everyone knew it was what we wanted, and when it was over I was already asking when I could get filled up again like I didn’t go through one of the most painful experiences of my life.

[chepram]