Im making Sissification captions involving pregnancy!
If you have any themes, settings, character types etc. you would like to see featured in a caption, please dm!

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ellievsbear

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@nonameloverpreggo
Im making Sissification captions involving pregnancy!
If you have any themes, settings, character types etc. you would like to see featured in a caption, please dm!
IVF clinic that responds to a new law demanding they don't discard any """"babies"""" (fertilized eggs) by partnering w the state to impregnate prisoners.
It's a fun new punishment for breaking the new laws banning transition! Get them as pregnant as possible, for the rest of their miserable lives! That's what they get for trying to deny their purpose!
But trans people are rare, and there's so so so many eggs in storage, and more made every day. So the staff start sneaking more and more eggs per pregnancy into the prisoners. Sure, they are now pushing(or breaking!) records for most multiples carried, but well. It's not like anyone who matters cares. In the eyes of the law, the more pain, the better!
And obviously they don't get to go to an Actual Hospital or get any pain medicine. They give birth, naturally, in the prison ward. If there's room. If not, they can do it in their cells. For their sake, hope their roommate doesn't get too annoyed by the noises. And that the guards don't notice, and decide to have some fun :)
(anon is trans masc and pro choice this is coping kink)
i love this so much. i'd visit prisons all the time if this was going on there
i wish pregnancy pacts were like...magically binding contracts. I wish they forged permanent, life-long connections between your wombs.
you make the pact young, probably in middle school or high school, that's when most pregnancy pacts are forged. at a sleepover, you and your friends make a promise that when one of you gets pregnant, the rest will too. you're all young, you don't know any better, the only thing you're thinking about is how fun it would be to have babies at the same time as your friends. it seems like a great idea, none of you will ever have to go through pregnancy alone. you giggle about it a bit, fantasize about what it would be like, discuss baby names, but don't really put much stock in it. pretty soon, you've forgotten all about it.
tboy whose chest dysphoria is so bad that he can't go out in public without a binder. tboy who goes and gets a top surgery consultation but finds out that stubborn weight he's been gaining is actually a baby, and he's only going to get bigger. a few months later, heavily pregnant tboy who's still desperately pulling his binder on over his engorged chest as if his big, round belly isn't on display for all the world to see.
I have this fantasy of being sent to a gynaecologist, im shy and humiliated but they impatiently give me a full inspection and just tell me to relax. They decide to use me as a guinea pig for a new test, they dilate my cervix and insert a device in my uterus that expands over the course of a few hours. Im horrified when i come to and realise what they've done, i don't want to push but they make my cervix dilate leaving me in agony. They force me to birth this expanded device in the stirrups while i'm crying in pain. Its all part of the test, they coldly reassure me, when i get inseminated and have to give birth for real, i'll be grateful they simulated my birth this time.
you should've read the fine print before signing the consent forms they gave you <3 a month later, since you passed the test, you'll be called back to get knocked up for real. every month they'll inspect you again, making sure all is going well, until it's time to induce labor. "get ready," they'll tell you while they give you labor induction pills, "you'll be wishing this was just the simulation."
doctor who wants to become the first to invent pills that cause even a non-pregnant person to give birth and is willing to do whatever it takes to achieve her goal x victim who ends up in her lab constantly giving birth to baby after baby with no end
prisoners who are used educationally against their will and forced to take a pill that causes them to endure a rapid pregnancy and labor in front of medical students
Had the idea of a womb draft where everyone with a potentially fertile womb has to sign up for the draft when they come of age. If their draft number is called they have to go get their womb filled. Tboy who gets his draft card in the mail and cries because he doesn't want to get pregnant..
government that enacts this system to deal with low population issues and increasing health issues so everyone who's genetically healthy must help repopulate even if they don't like it <3 tboy in this system who has to cancel his top surgery to obey the draft and grows huge and round and full of baby several years in a row because he was cursed with healthy genes...
There should be a draft but for surrogacy. A person should get be able to randomly a letter in the mail that tells them that, oops, sorry about all your plans. Your number came up, you have to be pregnant for a few years. It's for The Greater Good.
(and if people complain that the draft is easy to rig? Well. They can't prove that. They are a bit Busy, if you know what I mean)
bonus: being able to put your name in multiple times for benefits like in the hunger games, making it more likely that you'll be chosen for whatever breeding program the government comes up with next
(Started another star/dew valley save, and now I keep having preg thoughts.)
Where's the mod that lets the farmer narrowly escape from the mines, dripping slime down their thighs the whole way home?
At first, the extra weight sitting just below their navel hardly shows. It's easy enough to hide their recent embarrassment under a bigger sweater at first, but soon they're walking across the village square with a beet-red face and a bulging belly.
It takes a full season for them to grow truly round and heavy, unable to harvest crops or milk cows with the squirming slimes in the way.
They're as big as their prize pumpkin by the time the first real contraction hits. Things progress so fast, they can't even get inside in time, belly squeezing agonizingly around the already frenzied slimes.
Lying back in the fertile soil, they rock from side to side, trying to undo the sturdy jeans being held together by a piece of string, hidden underneath the writhing, low-hanging mass.
It's a good thing no-one's there to see them like this, with their already-too-small sweater riding up to their chest and the crotch of their pants soaked through and bulging obscenely with the slime that's halfway through their birth canal.
With a last, great effort, the string snaps and the farmer gasps in overwhelming relief and triumph, pushing their pants down their thighs just enough and collapsing fully.
The warm light of the midday sun keeps their bare skin warm, and they draw huge lungfuls of breath, settling in for the long haul.
Keeping track of the slimes proves impossible after the first five or so, as each slick, slippery exit from the farmer's body makes them more aroused, until they come untouched and uncontrollably.
Soon, the contractions and orgasms blend together, pain and pleasure merging until all they feel is waxing and waning waves of of intense sensation. Flat on their back, they can't even see over their belly.
The sun hangs low in the sky when the waves start to slow, golden light spilling across the farmer's straining body. They're so exhausted, they don't even notice the pain has stopped for another hour.
And it takes another hour after that for them to stagger to their feet in the dark and drag themself inside. Too tired to wash or change out of their clothes, too tired to turn on a light even, they simply collapse into bed.
A week later, they're almost back to normal. Their belly is still soft and saggy, but their energy is back and they're eager to get outside and prepare the farm for the looming winter. There's no trace of the slimes, but that's not too surprising. Farmland is hardly their natural habitat.
As soon as the first snow falls, they descend into the mines again. For most people, one chance meeting with egg-laying slimes would be reason enough not to go spelunking again, or to at least purchase some kind of protection for their privates. Yet the farmer is venturing back into the deep wearing loose, elasticated pants. Odd...
When the pale daylight filtered in through the window and spread across the living room, it felt as though the confusion inside me was being illuminated too. I was leaning back on the couch, my back sinking into the softness of the cushions, while the weight of my belly pulled me back into the present. I instinctively placed my hand on it. The gesture still felt unfamiliar, but I was no longer denying it.
I am a trans man. Saying that out loud had taken me years. Looking in the mirror and telling myself “you are a man,” then fighting to have that truth recognized in other people’s eyes… each had been its own battle. But no one had told me that one day I would become pregnant and be forced to confront my body, my identity, all over again.
The young woman sitting across from me was listening carefully. When she first came into this house, there had been a mix of curiosity and hesitation in her eyes. She hadn’t known how to address me, which words might hurt. But over time, she learned. She wasn’t afraid to ask questions, and she never stopped listening. Maybe that was why I learned to trust her.
“Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck between two different worlds,” I said. My voice was calmer than I expected. “On one hand, I spent years trying to distance myself from this body. On the other, this body is now carrying a life.”
She didn’t look away. There was no pity or shock in her expression, only a steady, grounding attentiveness. “This doesn’t make you any less of a man,” she said softly. “It just makes your story more real.”
Her words touched something deep inside me. For years, I had always been told in fragments. I was either just “trans” or just “pregnant.” But I was both. And more.
At first, accepting the changes in my body was incredibly hard. The silhouette I saw in the mirror brought back everything I had once tried to escape. Some mornings I woke up at peace with myself; other days, a single glance was enough to unravel me. And then the small movements began. A kick. A shift. A presence inside me that was separate from me, yet inseparably connected.
“Will they call me dad, or something else?” I asked one day. The question tightened in my throat. “Whatever they call you,” she replied with a gentle smile, “what matters is that they feel safe with you.”
That was when I realized something: my fatherhood could exist without denying who I am. My manhood wasn’t diminished by this experience. If anything, it was deepening as I took on responsibility, as I moved forward despite my fears.
As the days passed, our conversations grew longer. I shared my past with her—the day I cut my hair short for the first time, the lightness I felt when I changed my name, the stares I still endured on the street. She opened up about her own story too. We talked about how life rarely offers a single, straightforward path, and how unexpected roles can sometimes be the ones that help us grow the most.
As evening approached, the light softened. My hand rested on my belly again—this time not out of habit, but with conscious acceptance. “I don’t know if I’m ready,” I said. “No one ever really is,” she answered. “But you’re brave. That’s enough.”
The baby inside me moved once more. I smiled. Maybe I was still afraid. Maybe my struggle with my body, with society, and with my past wasn’t over. But I knew this much: I was a trans man. And I was preparing to become a father.
Life had given me an unconventional story. And I had decided to live it in all its truth.
I've noticed people tend to rub pregnant women's bellies without even asking them beforehand and they don't seem to mind.
I'm so turned on my the idea of a man knocking me up and displaying me to a bunch of their male friends once I can't hide my huge belly, I'm fully detransed because I can't take hormones anymore. My hair grew back and I'm essentially just another girl, and they take turns to rub my belly without asking me beforehand, the whole meeting is to worship my pregnant belly but I wasn't told about any of this.
There is beer involved and they're drunk enough to get a bit handy with me, but I'm forced to accept it because its the consequences of my own actions.