18+ only!!! I believe that all women should carry as many babies as their wombs will allow for. I want many more children. I currently have 2 kids and wish I had more. . I live in TX.
hello, loooong time reader first time writer here! i only actually write something like once a year but if i may still self promo my belly kink blog is @haha--lorge, where i often draw big bellies
Your boyfriend had broken your old couch last night, when he got pissed off by some video game. When he kicked its leg, the old wood gave in and snapped. His regret was immediate and so was your anger. You suppose it could be worse but you’re still mad. That couch had been with you for years, damn it! Luckily your boyfriend is eager to make it up to you. Because today, he’s taking you out to the local Ikea to get a new couch “and anything else you want babe, I’ll pay for everything I promise!”.
And so, after an overpriced breakfast of average quality from the café, you are ready to peruse some furniture and pick out a nice new couch. You don’t think you’ll get anything else but you feel like you might as well take your time going through the rooms anyways. Your boyfriend agrees, even though he wants to get this over with and quell his guilt. Having a nice day out together is an even better way to apologise.
Taking a quick glance at the layout plan, you see that you’ll be going through the bedrooms first, then work spaces, after that the kitchens, then living rooms and finally the kids rooms. This makes you raise an eyebrow. You’ve been to enough Ikeas in the past to know that this layout was a little different from the other ones but at the end of the day, who gives a shit. Certainly not your boyfriend as he takes your hand and gently yet urgently pulls you along towards the first showroom.
What neither of you know is that this was your one and only warning about the cursed nature of this store. You hardly notice the magic warmth flowing into your soon-to-be-former skinny body.
The bedrooms look nice and cosy enough. You wander through them, idly scratching your body as it feels weirdly itchy. A little sensitive even. Weird…
You stop when you spot a bed with an impossible to pronounce name and jab your boyfriend with your elbow lightly.
You giggle to yourself as you ask him: “Hang on, is that the same bed you impregnated me on?”
He stutters out an “Oh my god babe, not in public!” as you laugh some more until your thoughts suddenly grind to a halt.
Wait… impregnated?
That’s not right. You’re not pregnant. Sure, the two of you fucked from time to time but he’d use condoms and you’re on birth control… Right?
You look down at your 4 month belly and your thoughts conflict. That wasn’t there before. No it was. It’s your baby. You’re 10 weeks along. That doesn’t feel correct. And yet it also does. But…
You decide to ask your boyfriend to clear things up, to get you out of this horribly confusing loop of thoughts. But before you can speak up, you notice another man in the same room giving you a disapproving look. He clearly heard your lewd comment. Your mouth clamps shut and your chubby cheeks grow hot with shame. You avoid any further eye contact as you silently grab your boyfriend’s shoulder and quickly make your way out of the room.
As you walk you become painfully aware of the way your thicker thighs rub together and how your ass has begun to jiggle.
You still feel uncomfortable when you enter the work spaces. But you don’t let your boyfriend notice, instead letting him loose to check out some desks he seems interested in.
In the meantime, you look around as well but any thoughts on the furniture are disrupted by the cold air on your clothing’s gap.
You huff a little as you pull down your shirt for the umpteenth time. You probably should have gotten new clothes by now but you just weren’t expecting to be showing this much already. Even though they’re only half-way baked, your twins are intent making themselves known, whether you want them to or not. …Your what?
When did you get pregnant with twins? Six months ago, obviously. No, that’s not right. Wasn’t it a singleton just a moment ago? Wasn’t it NO child just an hour ago? And then what, you think you’re just magically blowing up in the middle of this store? Don’t be ridiculous it’s your normal twin pregnancy, six months along just as it was the day before. That wasn’t…
Suddenly, your boyfriend calls you over. He wants you to come look at a desk he’s judged to be top quality. You make your way over to him, stance widened just a little to account for your thick thighs (Since when have they been so thick? Since you’ve been gaining pregnancy weight of course!). There’s an office chair in the way but you expertly manoeuvrer around it… or so you thought. Your hips bumping into it say otherwise.
You stumble forwards a little but your boyfriend quickly catches you.
“Easy there,” he laughs “Don’t want you falling on the kids now.”
Now you’re just dumbfounded. You could have SWORN you had accounted for that chair and swerved around it. Did your baby weight really make your hips that wide already? What baby weight? Where did it come from? The babies, remember? No, you really don’t. Or… do you?
A much younger couple passes by the two of you and starts whispering to each other while glancing at you occasionally. You think you hear something about how stupid you looked running into that chair. Well, that’s something to overthink in bed tonight.
You’re hardly listening as your boyfriend rests a hand on your shoulder and rambles a little about this desk. If there’s actually something impressive about it, you’re missing out, because you’re far more occupied trying to remember when you got pregnant with twins and finding yourself increasingly frustrated when memories of it literally pop up in your mind. As if they’re forming on demand.
“I think solid white would be nice. The kids might draw all over it with markers but I think that’s gonna add to its charm, don’t you?” your boyfriend asks. It rings through the fog in your mind and pulls you back into reality. A large white area for the twins to draw on. Yes, that does sound cute, doesn’t it?
You smile and agree, that this desk would be lovely for that. As your boyfriend takes a photo of its numeric code, you idly pull up your pants, which are skin tight and riding down your ass cheeks. Your thoughts about whether they’ve always been that tight are quickly drowned out by imagining your children happily playing and decorating your home with their creativity. The dread inside you is slowly replaced by joyful anticipation for your twins.
After finishing up with the work spaces, the two of you enter the kitchens. Your boyfriend immediately mentions that your kitchen at home could do with a new style and suggests checking out some of the decorative articles. You agree and let him wander off to look at one kitchen while you decide to look through a different one.
It’s hard to get him off you these days. Your quadruplets certainly haven’t been making your final trimester easy but with such a sweet caring boyfriend doting on your every need, it becomes bearabl-
“EEK!”
You let out far too loud of a yelp and he’s at your side immediately.
“What’s wrong babe? Are you hurt? Is it the babies? What happened?” The cascade of concerned questions washes over you at a rapid pace, but you end up chuckling.
“Everything’s fine honey,” You assure him, “I just wasn’t careful and touched some cold tiles.” Indeed, the icy cold marble is digging into your hips and ass, which has all but escaped your pants. What were you thinking, wearing clothes this old to a public place? You usually save that for your sexual nights, when you and your darling get off to how fat you’ve gotten during your pregnancy. It’s bliss to be worshipped by him in bed, as he jiggles your fat ass and peppers your double chin in kisses, not to mention the care and love he gives your gargantuan belly while fucking you.
Careful, better not get so worked up in public. Even if you’re feeling full and heavy in the best way every day and your undersized clothes are digging into fat pad so perfectly right now. Your… fat pad. Something about that is gnawing at you. Like you didn’t have one until recently. But that’s ridiculous, you’ve been gaining weight almost from the moment you got pregnant. Six beautiful months ago. Right? …No that doesn’t feel right.
Before you can sink into another mental abyss you realize that again, people are staring at you. Well, of course. You just screamed loudly because of your exposed ass cheeks. You’re like a spectacle. Most of the stares are shocked, and some seem grossed out. It’s humiliating. And yet… something inside you twinges. But it could just be one of your babies kicking.
You shake off your inner turmoil as you assure your boyfriend once again that you’re fine, just got spooked, and that you can keep looking at the deco articles on your own. Ha, you wish. Every time you try to approach a trinket or cabinet or even just one of the isles, your belly or hips bump into it far sooner than you expect, and the cold material on your naked skin is a shock every time. You don’t scream like a little baby about it again but you keep finding yourself perplexed. It’s like you’re constantly underestimating your own size. But that’s crazy. Why wouldn’t you be used to being this fat and pregnant? You’ve been growing for close to six months now. Right?
While you’re resting your oversized belly on a kitchen isle and examining some salt and pepper shakers, a woman walks up to you and taps you on the shoulder.
Somewhat meekly she asks: “Excuse me, I really don’t mean to be rude but… well… Aren’t you a tad big to be walking around outside? I mean, I’m more impressed than anything, I just think someone at your size would be bedbound by now. It’s a bit uhm… concerning? You’re not overexerting yourself, are you? I just worry a bit you know?”
The woman rambles on for a bit and you can clearly tell this is as embarrassing for her as it is for you. And yet, a part of you is deeply turned on by this. Your size is awe inspiring. You’re so huge you take up the attention of everyone, no matter what room they’re in. You and your belly and your children are unignorable.
Do you finally get how wonderful it is to be so full of life?
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Strange thought aside, you tell the woman that even if it’s hard walking around like this, you wouldn’t trade it for anything. Because you firmly believe you’re showing your children the world before they’re even in it, and that that’s beautiful. She smiles at that and leaves again since her curiosity has been satisfied.
Your boyfriend comes up to you again, having found a cute little knife holder that he wants to buy. He shows it to you by putting it on top of your belly and you both laugh a little. When you waddle out of the kitchens, you pull down the hem on your maternity shirt. Luckily the XXXL pants are still sitting snugly around your thick waist. You briefly wonder when you changed clothes but it’s quickly cut off by a baby kicking your belly, making the shirt ride up to your popped belly button again. You sigh and rub at your womb to soothe the little ones.
Unfortunately, this does not work. No matter how much your fatty fingers try to rub at your middle, the sextuplets just won’t quit squirming. Your back pain flares up and as your slow, heavy steps enter the living room area you are wishing for nothing more than a place to sit down.
You spot a large sturdy, couch and head straight for it. Chairs and tables are knocked over by your sore hips. But you are determined to reach your goal before you can feel any embarrassment about it. Your planet sized ass cheeks crash onto the couch and it creaks ominously beneath you, like it might snap in two at any moment.
You don’t care all that much though. You’re far more busy trying to breathe normally and get your little ones to stop bashing away at your insides. They’re so restless today. You realise it’s tight in there but surely they could calm down at least a little? Enough perhaps for you to keep going.
Your boyfriend approaches you and puts a hand on your belly. You shake your head at him though. While still breathing heavily from the exertion of your 7 foot sprint, you tell him to tend to your back instead. Well, you try to at least. Luckily he can interpret just the word “back” fluently by now.
As you manage the front of your body, he works on the back, gently massaging your aching spine. Or at least, he tries. It’s hard to reach the muscles with so much back fat in the way. But just the fact that he's trying means the world to you.
You’re so lucky. A caring and loving boyfriend, and six large babies on their way. It’s the perfect life, struggles be damned. And you’re so close to reaching the room you and him had been aiming for. Once you reach the children’s rooms, you can finally find what you came here for.
...Was that what you were here for? Somewhere in your mind you recall trying to look for a couch in here. But that part of your mind also recalls being a frail and skinny little thing so you assume it must have been at least a year ago by now. You had clearly gained at least triple the amount of weight you were in those memories since then. And that doesn’t just happen overnight. Then why does it feel so unexpected and sudden? You’re just having an off-day. Perfectly understandable after the way your boyfriend fucked your brains out last night.
Just on time one of the babies kicks at your birth canal in a way that makes your slick cunt spasm. And all of a sudden you’re a horny mess over your pregnancy again. You’re rocking your hips as best you can and panting whorishly. Fuck, it’s so hot to be so big.
Several strangers passing by either try to ignore you or unsubtly glare at you. So much vitriol just for taking up space. As if you could help it. No, you really couldn’t. Your babies had made you grow to ludicrous gavidity. But you’re the one being judged for it. And it turns you on every time.
This is why you love going out in public and showing off your stuffed womb. The maternity clothes you’re wearing are a few months old and already too small. That sliver of skin showing between your shirt and pants grows larger every day, and it’s so fucking hot.
Your hips are rocking at a sluggish yet feverish pace and your boyfriend sweetly suggests you could use that momentum to try and get up. As he walks around the couch and grabs your arms, you move your hips closer and closer to the edge of the couch. The friction does marvellous things to your hormonal state of mind.
When you’re miraculously standing and nearly knock over your beloved with your massive belly, you’re panting even more. Partially from exertion but also because you’re so turned on. You need to fuck your boyfriend somewhere quiet. But these restrooms would never be able to contain you, you know that from experience. Might as well go back to focusing on the actual objective then.
The couch- no, children's furniture. What were you thinking about couches for? Yours is perfectly fine, and got reinforced months ago to hold up your enormous weight.
You’re here for the children’s rooms. For the children you’re gestating.
And all nine of them seem to become aware of this because they miraculously calm down as soon as you enter the showrooms for children. It’s like they’re in awe, seeing all the fun looking furniture they may have one day. But first they need to get a proper crib. And you’ve already spotted one that looks beautiful.
Some part in the back of your mind you dimply wonders if Ikea even sold cribs, but the rest of your brain tells that nerd to shut it.
You waddle through the different show rooms, holding your boyfriend in your arms as he’s pushed against you and dwarfed by your size. He rests his head against your shoulder and from where you’re seeing it, you’re pretty sure your breasts are twice as big as his head by now. He puts a hand on one of your boobs and you can both feel them slosh heavily with milk.
Tonight, your wonderful boyfriend would get to drink his fill of your milk. You want to let him indulge as much as possible because you’re due any day now, and then all of your milk will be reserved for your babies. Your wonderful, wonderful babies.
As the two of you stand before a crib with a simple yet appealing design, you’re taking the time to just revel in the feeling of being so deliciously full. Your arms are usually stuck at an angle on your body, but when you use your willpower, you can bend them towards your yoga ball sized belly. Your pudgy fingers wander over the soft layer of flab protecting your womb and your precious cargo. You are so full of life. You are so full with milk. You have spent years filling yourself with food every day to achieve your gorgeous, fat body. And the cravings of your pregnancy really helped your weight skyrocket. Your asscheeks can fit into four chairs, provided you don’t break them with your weight. And your thighs are thicker than the torso of most people. The fact that your feet began swelling during your pregnancy was lost on you because they are already filled with fat. And when you take a moment to put a hand near your face, you can feel a third chin forming under your second. One could describe you as twice as wide as you are tall, and they wouldn’t even be far off. Nothing makes you feel sexy quite like this. You are a beacon of hedonism, plain and simple.
It’s getting you aroused again, and as your babies begin squirming in your womb, you moan loudly, eyes rolling back into your head.
Several passerbys stare at you. Most of them are disgusted and that turns you on. The people looking at you with barely concealed lust turn you on even more.
You want to rub the spot where your children are the most active, right at the front, towards your belly button. But the size of your belly, along with your massive breasts and fattened arms, won’t let you get anywhere close. But that’s what your boyfriend is for. Anywhere you can’t reach, he begins to rub. You’ve both formed a wordless understanding of when you’re the horniest, and he always provides. One of his hands starts rubbing your sensitive bellybutton, making you mewl in high tones. Another wanders down your oversized erogenous zone, towards your crotch.
Getting you to come is so easy for him. He just has to find your clit under your enormous fupa and just like that...
You come undone, moaning and panting as your pants become a wet mess. When you fall forward you catch yourself on the crib in front of you. It holds your weight without so much as a creak. That means it passes the test!
“Let’s… get this one…” You pant, flushed and exhausted but also happier than you’ve ever been in your life. Soon, your children will be resting in these quaint and lovely beds, and you will be able to take them in and out without worrying they might break under your weight.
Even so, you wish you could stay pregnant forever. To stay gravid and heavy and horny for the rest of your life. But that’d be unrealistic, wouldn’t it?
Your boyfriend nods and plants a kiss on your exposed belly, before taking another photo of a numerical code. In the meantime, you manage to stand up again and appreciate the strength your muscles have to carry you around. Your body is truly perfect. Exceeeept, it’s lacking something at the moment
“Honey, let’s move on quickly,” You say to your boyfriend. A loud and long grumble runs through your belly as you rub it. “I need to get some food and fast! After all I’m eating for ten over here.”
It my birthday month if anyone wants to send me anything my cashapp is $dancermomiftwin. If you leave me a note you’ll get a special something in your inbox from me. 😌
Pumping you full over and over. Whispering in your ear how gravid I’m going to get you with my babies. Absolutely saturating you every chance we have til your tits ache and your little belly shows. Breeding you swollen, heavy, and full. Throbbing rope after rope deep in you while I picture you so obscenely pregnant you can barely waddle.
I don’t just want to “Breed” you.
I want to pump you full as you ache with my seed like a heavy baby factory.
I want to make you a mommy. I want to watch you swell with my seed. Grow large and heavy with my baby. Your body transformed forever carrying my children. Forever marked as mine. I want you overcome with pregnancy. Breasts bloated and fat with milk. Extra curves on that swollen body. Hips wide and aching. Belly heavy and full, dropping lower. Pussy swollen, hot and moist. I want to make you a happy, beautiful mommy...and a fecund baby factory, leaking between your thighs while your tits weep milk.
Room being in the room at a birth day like this I would probably be saying things like “you’re doing so good”. “and it’s almost over” but honestly it would be one of the biggest turn ons of my life, something about her utter loss of control  ,cute  high-pitched screams during each contraction and the begging. Don’t even get me started on the begging that together would have me so fucking horny!
I wanna sit on his lap and make out with him while grinding against his bulge as he slowly guides my hips with his hands until my panties are entirely soaked through and I'm begging him to pin me down and use my messy hole until it's aching and dripping with his cum
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