Hello! This is my third time submitting a story so I figured it's time I share a name for myself. You can call me Salty. I'm the author of "The Heir" as well as "The Stable Boy". I also have a blog under the name of Swollenpregnantbellies.
Anywho, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!
Fill for request:
Mpreg brothel. Imagine you're a client visiting the brothel for the first time. Dozens of men in various stages of pregnancy are there for you and others to enjoy. You take a particular liking to the newbie: eighteen, shy, naive, and freshly pregnant with his first. You visit over and over again to view his progress. He's embarrassed by your attention, but does not refuse, letting you touch and fuck him. You pay premium to be there for his first, extremely difficult labor, which the brothel is sure to make a show of for you.
The Brooding Fox.
A high end brothel with a very special set of workers for special clientele. It was named that way not because it was dark or dour, no. It got it's name because of what happens to the prostitutes. Named as such because the male prostitutes are fertile and bred quite well. Every single one of them are required to get pregnant within the first few weeks of starting, else they are fired. At least, that was the word on the street.
The first time you went to the Brooding Fox you weren't certain what to expect. However, you were pleasantly surprised by what you found.
A friend had brought you the first time and it was quite the experience. The instant you walked past the threshold you were met with the beautiful sight of dozens of young men all in varying stages of pregnancy. Some had small bellies in their earlier months while others had ripe bellies, rounded and taught. Then there were the ones who looked like they could pop at any minute.
You were shown around and told about the different workers, their prices, and what they offered. The first time you found yourself spending time with a young man around five months pregnant. His belly was wonderful to caress and feel the growing roundness of it.
You discovered very quickly how much you liked feeling his belly as you entered him. It was incredible how hard just looking at all of their swollen bellies made you.
After the first night you went back for more at least once a week, sometimes more than that.
You couldn't get enough of rubbing their growing tummies, feeling the babies squirm around inside their wombs and fucking them until both of you collapsed bonelessly into the bedding. You thought it couldn't get any better than that.
Until one day, it did.
You were about to request one of your regulars when you saw him: a young man, no older than eighteen, sitting off in the corner by himself. At first you thought he might be a client, until the head mistress spoke to him and he very timidly went to attend to an actual client.
That was when you made the connection: he was fresh.
You inquired with the head mistress about him and was told that he was, in fact, eighteen years old and pregnant off the streets. He had just been hired.
You could barely keep your erection in your pants as you watched him from across the open room. He was petite, lithe; practically skin and bones, with a bit of meat on them. You could already imagine his belly outgrowing him within just the first few months. He would be nothing but belly around month four, you wagered.
About half and hour later you found yourself alone in one of the room with the young man. Whilst he still had his clothes on there wasn't a noticeable bump just yet, but that would soon change. You decide to strike up a conversation with the young man.
"So, you're new?" You ask.
He nods wordlessly.
"Is today your first day?"
He shakes his head. "Yesterday was." His voice is meek and has a lovely tenor pitch to it. You think it will sound angelic when he moans.
"And you've already been bred, I hear?"
He looks up, surprised as his face turns red. "Oh. I--um. I'm not sure."
"Oh?" You say.
He doesn't offer a reply.
"Well, isn't it required to be pregnant within the first few weeks of working here or else you get kicked out?" You prompt.
He nods, again giving no verbal answer.
"Well then, how about we make sure that you're nice a bred, shall we? We wouldn't want you getting thrown back out onto the streets now would we?"
"I--um--well," He stammered adorably.
"Excellent," You purr, scooting closer to the boy. You've already snuck your hand underneath his shirt and have begun inching it up his torso. His skin is wonderfully supple and creamy, perfect for bearing a brood.
If he wasn't pregnant already you were definitely going to make certain he was after tonight.
He made no protest when his shirt was taken off, nor when his pants and undergarments were undone and cast aside. He now stood before you in naked glory, showing you everything he had and it was stunning.
His skin was immaculate and his little cock was so cute you couldn't help but oogle it for a few moments. However, what caught your eye was not his lovely neck or chest, but in fact the little belly that just barely jutted out. It wasn't much but if one was looking for it, which you were, it was obvious: he had been bred and from the looks of it quite well.
He couldn't have been more than a few months along, but it was enough that his belly was bloated and at the stage right before becoming rounded. You could hardly contain your erection. So you didn't.
Your cock rose excitedly and sprung forth the instant you freed it from your own pants. You stepped towards the boy and instantly felt all over his body, but specifically his little belly. You savored the feeling because you knew it wouldn't be little for much longer.
"Now, where were we?"
You caressed every part of him and loved how he melted under you touch. Especially how he would let out the tiniest little sounds when you touched his lower tummy. Oh how you ate that up and knew it would only get better as his belly grew.
"Now, you said you're not sure if you got knocked up before coming here?" You asked, rubbing his lower belly again.
He managed a breathless nod.
You were both still upright, something that you wanted to amend soon. "Is that so? Would you like to make sure then?" You murmur in his ear.
He lets out a quiet whimper but nods his head once more.
You don't waste another second. You slide a finger inside his hole. It goes in rather easily and so you add in another.
He gasps in delight as you move your fingers deftly inside of him. His wetness becomes quite evident, as does his enjoyment of what you're doing because his little cock rises to the occasion, leaking just a bit of precum.
Your cock has already been weeping for the last several minutes, but you've held off because you want to save it for him.
You insert a third finger and he is practically bouncing on your hand, gyrating his hips to stimulate more movement.
"My my. Eager aren't we?"
Breaths start to quicken and you can't wait any longer. You pull your fingers out and in the same motion replace them with your cock. He takes you so beautifully and the sound he makes when you do it nothing short of angelic, just as you'd hoped.
You start thrusting with vigor, holding him in place with one hand across his chest and the other placed low on his belly. You can feel your length going deep inside, pushing into his entrance and kissing his cervix. It isn't long before you are both a panting mess, nearing completion. As warmth builds inside you, your thrusts become desperate. You chase that ecstasy and by the gods you finally catch it.
You both cum with heavy moans and you unload every last drop of your seed inside his fertile womb. He slumps against you, enervated from your coupling. You are still holding his little belly as you let the last bit of cum empty inside him. You imagine that it is enough to make his belly more bloated than it already is.
"Now there's no possible way you aren't pregnant now, boy, is there?"
He shakes his head in embarrassment.
You look forward to your weekly visit even more now. So much so that your weekly visits turn into nearly every other day visits.
Weeks of going to the Brooding Fox go by and every night you find yourself spending it with the newcomer. You absolutely relish watching his little tummy swell with life, becoming rounder with each passing week. You love how embarrassed he is by his condition. How much his belly is growing and how large it seems for being only four months pregnant.
He isn't wrong, though. He is only four months along but looks closer to six. You suspect that whomever bred his fertile womb did such a good job that they put at least two babies in his belly. And you couldn't wait to see how big he would get.
The next night you see him he is nearly five months along and his belly has grown beautifully. It has become the most lovely swell you've ever laid eyes on. His hips have started to widen just enough that he'll be able to give birth naturally and his breasts have turned from barely there to nice, little buds on his chest.
When you he finally sits down beside you your hands immediately go to his belly, caressing and rubbing the swollen roundness. You focus your ministrations low, which elicit the most exquisite sounds from him.
"You like being touched like this don't you?" You croon, continuing to rub his firm swell. "You like knowing your womb has been bred so nicely and you're growing more with every day?"
He nods, already breathless and melting in your arms.
"You want me to fill your belly even more?" You ask.
This has become a recurring conversation between the two of you, usually at the beginning of your sessions. But without fail it does wonders for both of you and often leads to him being bent over and with your cock buried inside him, shooting ropes of cum into his already occupied, but very fertile womb.
Just before you finish, you lean in and whisper: "Once you push this one out I'll make sure your belly is filled with my babies next."
Without fail that phrase brings both of you to the edge. It's quite obvious that despite his embarrassment, the boy rather enjoys having his belly filled to the brim and swollen with babies.
"I'll make sure to put at least three babies in that tummy of yours when the time comes." You add after cumming buckets inside him. Just saying it is often enough to bring your member to full hardness and make the poor boy wet all over again.
Two more months of this pass and he is absolutely glowing. His belly has started to turn into a nice teardrop shape, hanging low on his small frame. His hips have only slightly widened in the past few weeks which only serves to accentuate his gravid, rounded middle. You love rubbing his belly even more now that it's so tight and swollen, yet somehow larger each time you see it. He seems to love it just as much, you caressing his overtaxed and growing tummy.
When he sits now his belly spills into his lap, covering nearly half of it. Your length grows hard thinking about how much larger he will get in the final weeks of his pregnancy.
As time grows near for the birth, you go to the head mistress with a request. You wanted to watch the birth and were willing to pay extra to see it. Naturally, she agreed, seeing no issue in this, especially if you were willing to pay an additional fee up front.
Then, soon enough, the time came.
It miraculously happened during one of your fuck sessions with him, pounding him from behind, holding his incredibly swollen belly and filling him entirely. However when you pulled out, there was a gush of fluid that came with you and a groan from the boy, who clutched at his poor tummy.
"I suppose it's time for the little ones to join the world." You smile with a dark grin as the boy's face scrunches in pain with a contraction.
Several hours pass with his belly tightening and his face contorting in agony as he prepares to push. You rub his overtaxed tummy in a soothing manner, speaking in soft tones to him.
"Don't worry, it'll all be over soon." You say, though secretly hoping it takes much longer. You don't want this to go too quickly. You wanted to savor every moment of this. After all, it would be at least a few weeks before you'd be able to pump him full of cum and breed that little belly of his again.
He cries out in pain, pushing with all his might many times over before one of the midwives announces the head is out. Once this happens you've been asked to move to the side, which you oblige. At this point your cock is at near full mast in your trousers and needs attention immediately.
As the boy bears down with another contraction, you reach inside and begin stroking your length slowly, not wanting to cum too quickly. However this proves difficult at you watch his belly tighten again, the skin rippling across as he pushes hard one last time and the room is suddenly filled with a shrill cry of new lungs.
"It's a boy." The midwife says. "We will clean him off while you rest. There is still another in there!" She says with urgency.
"Wait...another?" The exhausted you man says with defeat. You spurt cum in your pants hearing that your theory was right. He really was meant to be bred if he was having twins on the first go.
"Yes, another. Be ready to push again soon."
As the boy slumps bonelessly against the cushion, your cock is already twitching, eager for the next babe to be pushed out.
Before long the young man is breathlessly pushing, his entrance straining against the babe's head.
"I think--" He pants. "I think it's stuck!"
"I know, I know. But you must keep pushing!" The midwife urges. Your length is hard as a rock in your hand again and you stroke it excitedly, hearing that the second baby seems to be larger than the first. It wasn't surprising given how round his belly had been since the beginning.
"That's it, keep pushing! Another!"
He screamed, echoing down the corridors and into the night air. With one last push the head popped out, leaving him enervated on the floor.
"I need to change positions." He says breathlessly, before shifting to his hands and knees.
You could hardly believe your eyes and neither could your cock. He was now bent into the position in which you consistently fucked him raw. It was almost too good to be true, yet there he was; pushing out a second baby like an animal in heat. Your cock leaked precum all over your hand, but you held out just a bit longer.
He grunted and groaned loudly as he bore down again, pushing with all his strength. You pumped up and down your shaft, grunting and groaning in your own way, just much more quietly. His belly tightened and he screamed, then suddenly the second baby was out and you were cumming for the second time in almost as many minutes.
"It's a girl!" Said the midwife, before taking the baby away to be cleaned.
You relax against the wall, watching as your favorite conquest collapses to the floor, entirely spent and practically asleep. You decide it is time to take your leave.
You clean yourself up and before stepping out you go over to the barely conscious young man and say just loud enough for only him to hear: "I'll be back in a few weeks to fill that belly of yours all over again. Don't worry. I'll make sure you're never out of a job while you're here."
He gives the barest of mumbled responses as you step away and disappear into the night.
Six weeks later, true to your word, you are pounding him from behind for the fifth time that night. His little belly round and filled to the brim with your seed. You just know it's already taking root in his fertile womb. It wouldn't be long before his tummy began to swell with young and this time, it would be you that claimed his womb.
“My nipples hurt,” Zac groans, rubbing the flat of his palm across his chest. I lean back on the couch, cramming for my Econ quiz immediately forgotten. “Do you want me to take a look?” Zac half-chuckles, but it doesn’t hide the wince. He never shows the pain he’s in, a fact that’s been true since we were in little league together. That little wince means not only is he in pain, he’s in a lot of pain. “Sounds like what you said the night we got into this house mess.” Zac and I became roommates at the beginning of the fall semester. It made sense; we played on the university baseball team together, hung out with each other practically every day, and shared more than a few late nights fondling and exploring each other’s cocks. It made logical sense that we’d advance to living together.
But becoming roommates only made the exploring become more frequent. Soon we were fucking. And sooner, I got him pregnant. A secret we’re keeping from everyone still. Coaches, parents, professors. My baby was growing in his belly and it was our dirty little secret. The thought alone was enough to make my dick twitch. “I promise,” I say, physically crossing my heart, “No funny business. Just let me take a look, maybe there’s something I can do.” Rarely there was anything I could actually do. It was typically Zac against his own body. It made me anxious; I knocked him up, so I wanted to be able to help carry the load. “Fine.” Zac conceded, coming to the couch. He flops down next to me and starts lifting his shirt up. “Just be careful, okay? Even the fabric of this shirt fucking hurts.”
“I’ve got you, baby,” I say. I take the shirt from his grip and finish pulling it over his head. Zac wasn’t very far along. It was hard to gauge exactly how long he’d been pregnant because of how frequently we fucked. Now that he seems to be in a constant state of uncomfortableness, it’s become fewer and far between. But also, somehow, much, much hotter. I put my hand on his little swell of a belly. Zac’s the smallest guy on the team, a short stop in every sense of the word. He’s hairless and smooth everywhere, and I can’t get enough of his skin. And his belly is perfect. A little pot of a thing, firm to the touch. Sometimes, when he’s sleeping or not in the mood, I fuck my hand to thoughts of his pregnant belly so full of my baby. “There he is,” I coo, instantly distracted from the task at hand. Zac rolls his eyes.
“There she is.” “How are you so sure it’s a girl, huh?” I tease. “She’s in my body! I know! Call it instinct or whatever!” His voice is irritated but he’s all smiles. When Zac first found out he was pregnant, it was terrifying. He even considered getting rid of it, something that would have been his choice, no matter how devastating to me. But he’s chosen to keep it—and me, the idiot who got him pregnant in the first place—and now he’s glowing. I want to kiss him but, right, nipples. Keeping a hand on his belly—because how can I not touch him?—I look up at his chest. His nipples are red and angry, erect on his pecs which have become softer and fuller in the last few weeks. “Damn, baby…” No wonder he’s in pain. “I know,” he whines, “I tried putting some Vaseline on them but they still burn. There’s just so much pressure.”
“That’s your milk coming in. Remember what the book said?” “I remember the stupid book.” He pouts, adorably. “But that doesn’t make them feel better!” I suddenly remember something else that book said. That wonderful, wonderful book. “I know I said no funny business, but wasn’t there something about stimulating them? To help ease production?” “Fuck, I’ll try anything.” Zac moves both of his hands to his new breasts and starts massaging them. He squeezes them, hissing at the apparent pain. Fuck me, my pants are becoming tighter by the second. “That’s right, baby. Just keep doing that.” “Aaron, I swear to God, you better not be getting off on this,” he snaps. “Who me?” I feign innocence.
“If you won’t let me help then you’re forcing me to watch. And you know I like watching you play with yourself.” That was the very first incident that started us on this long, sexy road. I forgot my keys in the locker room after a late game and when I went back in, found Zac stroking himself. He let me stay and watch, even letting me instruct him as he in tandem fucked his fingers. But watching never compared to actually being inside him. Zac whined, biting his lip. “Don’t say things like that.” “Why not? Does it make you hard? You playing with your nipples while I tell you how hot you are?” “I can’t be hard when it hurts like this.” “Then let me help, baby.” Zac looks at me, and I pray he sees the hunger in my eyes.
I could tear him apart, but instead I say, “I’ll be gentle.” Zac sighs, a sound laced with desperation. “Fine.” That’s all the consent I need. I move closer to him on the couch, reaching out to haul him and our baby into my lap. I replace his hands with my larger ones, continuing the circular, squeezing motion. They’re hot to the touch, a testament to their ache. I squeeze them, imagining them filling even more until I can’t hold them in my palm anymore. I want them to leak for me just like his cock does. I want to see the baby we made latched on and feeding. “Fuck, baby,” I groan, “You look so pretty on my lap with your growing tits.” “D-don’t call them that,” Zac scolds, but a soft moan betrays him. “You don’t like me pointing out that you have sweet little tits now? Look at how much they’ve plumped up.” Zac grumbles. “It’s all your fault.”
“Fuck yes, it’s my fault. It’s my fault your body is changing. I fucked you so good, I put a baby inside you. A baby that needs milk from right here.” I give his breasts a little tougher squeeze. “Aaron!” His head falls back. He’s panting. “Be-be careful!” “Shhh,” I lean forward, placing small kisses along his exposed collarbone. “Let Daddy take care of you, huh?” “Oh, fuck…” Zac’s hips jerked on my lap. I can see the outline of his stiff cock through his shorts. “Do you like it when I call myself ‘Daddy?’” I tease. “You like the little reminder I made you a Mommy?” “A-Aaron…” He moans again and I see a little stain of precum color his shorts. “I bet I can make you come in your pants, just from talking dirty and playing with your tits.” “No, you can’t.” Zac says firmly. Always my little brat.
“No? What about if I do this?” I trail my kisses through the valley between his breasts. Licking up the swell, I move my hand out of the way so I can suction my lips on his tiny, red nipple. I suck. Not hard, but just enough because I’m rewarded with his shaky cry. “AARON! F-fuck!” I kiss and suck until I eventually feel sad for the other one and move my attentions over. My hand, now free, cups him through his pants. I lift off his nipple just enough to say, “I wonder if I’ll get to taste your sweet milk before the baby does. I wonder if it tastes as sweet as your cum.” “Oh-oh, god, oh fuck—,” Zac activity humps into my hand. The urge to reach in and take his cock fully in my hand is so intense, but I know the satisfaction I’ll get from making him jizz his pants will be even greater.
“Are you going to come for me, baby? Come on, Daddy wants to lick Mommy’s cum off his untouched cock.” Zac cries out, one hand going to grab his belly with the intensity of his orgasm. The sight could tip me over the edge too. I wonder if the baby feels it as he rocks his hips through it. Zac whimpers and cries, body trembling. I give his budding breasts each a soft kiss then lay him down on the couch, shifting so that I’m hovering above him. “Do your nipples still hurt?” I ask, cocky. “Fuck you,” he pants. “Not tonight, baby, because tonight I’m going to fuck another baby into you.” I move down his body, licking the arch of his pregnant belly, nipping slightly at his bellybutton. It’s only days away from popping, I can feel it. The whole way down, Zac squirms and curses above me, his body still so sensitive. Slowly, I pull down the band of his shorts and underwear in one go and obediently go to clean up his delicious mess.
Answering this ask that came through my messages from @yaiofanficbombon2022:
"The class president is in labour (Mpreg). He had a sexual encounter with the popular boy of the school and as a result of this encounter he is pregnant.
His water breaks at home at night, he wants to miss school, but he can't, so he goes to class anyway.
The contractions are intense and constant, and the baby tries to come out, but he refuses to push until the exam is over.
He ends up giving birth in the school bathroom."
I’ve aged them up to a very high school like college because even 18 yo high school students feel too young to me. Hopefully you don’t mind.
This fic contains: mpreg, birth denial, pushing baby back in, clothing birth
“Hey, pres, you all right?” Jason asked, coming to sit next to Max.
Max grunted, forcing a smile for the man who was rather popular with the other people at their very small church owned college they both attended, and also the father of the child that was currently trying to expel itself from Max’s womb. They’d had a secret encounter in Jason’s dorm room after a particularly intense study session—and well, they hadn’t repeated said occurrences since then, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be friendly. “Fine,” Max managed as the contraction that had been wrapping its way around his belly finally eased off. “Just worried about this exam.”
Specifically, he was worried about passing the final exam of his health class while also managing to keep the kid in him, you know, in him. Particularly since his water had broken last night, and he hadn’t gotten a whole bunch of sleep between the increasingly intense contractions. This was his last final of the semester, though, he just had to pass this test, or at least make it through it, and he was home free. So he’d hobbled his way to class from his dorms. It wouldn’t do for the student president to just not show up to an exam.
“You’re the smart one,” Jason said with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. Only it doesn’t look like you slept at all.”
“Stayed up all night studying.”
“For health?” Jason asked. “Look man, I know you’re a perfectionist and all that, but no one cares what grade you get in this class. All you gotta do is pass. It’s not worth killing yourself over.”
Max tried to formulate a nonchalant shrug. “Gotta keep that scholarshi—mmmhg.” Another contraction cut him off. He wrapped his fingers around the bottom of the desk and forced all his pain and the screaming desire to push into them instead of downward. Still the contractions were getting insistent. The force of his body pressed the baby’s head against his lips, which began to spread and sting. As soon as the contraction ended, the head slipped back inside, the stinging easing. Still, that wasn’t a good sign. The two hour exam hadn’t even started and the baby was already sitting right behind his lips.
Jason stared. “Man, you sure you’re good?”
“I’ll survive,” Max said, trying to sound sardonic, though his breathlessness gave him away. Jason didn’t know Max was pregnant. No one did. He’d carried small, and Max was good at hiding his body in shapewear and too big hoodies. If anyone did find out, he’d definitely lose his scholarship, and probably get kicked right out of the school. It had very strict rules about sex outside of marriage, and babies don’t just happen.
Max was saved from further questions from Jason by the professor entering the room and beginning to pass out a massive pile of paper that was the final exam. “You will have one and half hours to do the question and answer portion of the exam,” the professor explained. “Then I will show a video of a live birth. As the university wants you to know how to give birth at home, with prayer and without medical intervention as God intended. You all must know how to give birth. After watching the birth video, you will be required to write a paper discussing what they did correctly and what they could have done better. Understood?”
The class nodded.
“All right then, you may begin. You have an hour and a half.”
Max reached out for the packet, grabbing his pencil and his scantron, eager to go as quickly as possible and get this over with. Two questions in, and his stomach was seizing again. Freed from Jason’s questioning gaze, Max wrapped his hand around his stomach to try and soothe it, feeling it shrink underneath the shapewear he wore. He tried not to push, focusing on breathing deeply and slowly through the pain, but the searing stretch of his nethers continued throughout the contraction nonetheless.
According to his studies, contractions lasted about 60-90 seconds, so Max counted out the seconds in his head, one hand wrapped tight around his stomach, the other clutching his fragile wooden pencil dangerously tightly.
As soon as the contraction began to ease and the stinging stopped as the baby returned to its place just outside his lips, Max continued with the test. His contractions were coming every two minutes, lasting about a minute. Which means while the rest of his class had an hour and a half to complete the test, he only had an hour.
The words swum in front of him and he leaned forward to get a better view of the words, curling around his stomach and triggering another contraction. Sitting forward as he was, the hard plastic chair pressed against his lips. Which gave him an idea. Experimentally, he pushed with the urge instead of trying to hold back, grunting softly as he did. The head spread him open, shooting through his stretching lips, and then stopped moving as it struck the chair. Max whined, softly, tapping out of the push early. Except this time, the head didn’t go all the way back in, it stayed at that partial crown, stretching his lips.
Stealthily, he reached down under his desk and explored the area between his spread legs. A massive bulge of straining jeans was wedged between them, pressed up against the chair.
Max let out a shuddering breath. All right, he thought, as long as I can stay sitting down, we can keep the baby in. And thus the test stretched on, in increments of three minutes, two of answering questions, one of pushing fruitlessly into the hard plastic chair, his wet jeans bagging out with the emerging head.
Some of the questions were about health, but a lot were about sexual health and reproduction. Labeling the different parts of the birther’s anatomy felt particularly ironic when Max could feel the stretch of so many of them, the diagram a visual reminder of how small everything had been before a baby had been shoved through it.
Another question asked which sex position was most likely to result in successful reproduction, which had him flashback to his room, with Jason leaning over him, his warm chest on Max’s. It brought a blush to his cheeks which led Max to lift his head and glance over at Jason.
Jason had been looking back, his brows wrinkled in concern, but when he caught Max looking, the face changed to a forced smile and a hidden lewd hand symbol. Maybe the test was bringing up memories for him too.
Their moment was broken by another contraction. Max forced his head down, as though he was working on his test, leaning as far forward as he could, his stomach pressing against the bottom of the desk, his crotch against the seat to keep the baby in as his whole body pushed down.
The pain was just letting up when the teacher called for their attention, and put on the birthing video. A woman moaning, crouching, her husband supporting her from behind, praying. Her stomach visibly contracted as Max’s own pain returned. Their contractions had synced up, but while she was naked and pushing freely, he was covered in clothes, unable to push or make progress. Her grunts of effort and cries of pain masked his own moans.
The voice of the camera-person ordered the woman, “Push! Push!”
And having sat at a partial crown for an hour and half, Max couldn’t help but obey, pushing in sync with the woman on screen. He leaned back instinctively, lost in the grasp of instinct. He and the woman pushed, and pushed. The babys’ heads emerged slowly, fighting to stretch out the body and, in Max’s case, force the jeans out of the way.
The woman screamed as her head reached a full crown, losing her crouch and falling backwards, caught by her husband. Max’s own softer exhalation, as his own crown, freed from the confines of the chair, reached its own crown.
The next few pushes were unfruitful. The baby’s head bobbed in the woman’s crotch as Max’s own baby fought against his tight jean crotch and lost. He wasn’t trying to hold back anymore, wasn’t thinking consciously, only knew he needed to push.
Then the head on screen gushed out, followed by the rest of the body in rapid succession, but Max’s was still stuck, no matter how he pushed and grunted. The screen went black.
“You have twenty minutes to write your essays.”
Max panted, realizing his situation. His hand explored downward, gasping at how large the bulge was, his legs spread apart, his lips screaming in pain, stretched to their fullest, his whole body soaked in sweat.
He could not write, could not focus on writing, but he had to. So, ever so slowly he leaned forward. The head of the baby caught on the chair, then began to be shoved up inside him once more. Max shoved his pencil in his mouth, biting down hard to hold back the scream that threatened to bubble in his throat at the pure agony.
Another, harsher contraction came, but he weathered it, biting his pencil and pressing himself down against the chair. It faded, and he tried to write. The next contraction was just as bad. His weakened pencil snapped his hand. He whimpered as the head began to emerge once more, stretching him little by little.
It didn’t seem like he had two minutes of leeway anymore, no matter what their professor had taught. The contractions didn’t seem to end. It hurt so much. He was so sweaty, so confined. The baby was coming out again. He didn’t have the energy to push it against the chair. It was stretching his lips, so wide.
“Time!” The professor called. “Pencils down.”
Max’s pencil was in pieces before him, his essay a mess, his multiple choice portion, not quite complete. But he didn’t care. He had to give birth. He had to get out of there.
The old professor toddled around, collecting tests as Max tried to look normal after having been in active labor for fourteen hours and actively crowning for two.
He’d had a plan, take the test, go home, give birth in his empty apartment. But as the baby reached a full crown once more, Max knew that wasn’t happening. He would at least make it to the bathroom. It was on the first floor. Max planned his route as the professor said his final goodbyes, and then, finally, finally, fifteen minutes after the test ended, released them.
Max stayed where he was, unsure how to stand as the rest of the students burst out of the room. Another student stayed and talked to Jason, pulling his attention away from Max.
Now, Max thought. He awkwardly turned in his seat, and removed his hoodie. It revealed his very low belly, curved and sweat-soaked, but he used it to tie around his waist, hiding the massive bulge in his crotch. Then, oh so gently, he leveraged himself to his feet.
Gravity shifted, his jeans loosened a bit, and the baby dropped down just a bit further, the head stretching him wider than he thought possible. Max gasped and swayed, catching himself on his desk. Jason glanced over, clearly concerned, but his conversation partners drew him back in.
Free. Max began to waddle, slowly, awkwardly, out of the classroom. Each step was agony, his jeans jostling the fully crowned head in his pants in and out just a smidge. His exhausted legs trembled, and he kept one hand on the wall to keep himself upright. The stairs were right next to the classroom, the elevator was on the other side of the building. He could either walk the entirety twice (to reach the elevator and then walk all the way back to the bathroom at the base of the stairs), or go down the stairs. He chose the stairs.
He went down two before he realized it was an awful idea. He clung to the railing, his legs forcefully spread around the head, which brushed his thighs each time he maneuvered himself awkwardly down the stairs like a new-born deer.
Finally, red faced, panting, exhausted, he reached the bottom of the stairs and practically fell into the door of the men’s bathroom. A guy at the urinal gave him a look.
“Really gotta. . . go,” Max panted, then stumbled into the stall and locked the door. He reached immediately for his jeans. His shaking hands fumbled with the belt. As the contraction struck, he crouched naturally, spreading his legs wider, but that only forced the jeans up tighter against his opening, forcing the head further in.
Finally, the belt gave way, and he began forcing the jeans down. They got caught on his hips. He needed to move his legs together, but another contraction hit, and the baby descended further, its nose stretching him and popping out. The head was touching his thighs. He couldn’t spread his legs further to give it more room with his jeans, he couldn’t get rid of the jeans because of the head.
He was stuck.
Mind frozen with fear and exhaustion, he weathered out several contractions, pushing as hard as he could. But the baby didn’t move. It was stuck. The jeans had to go, but that meant. . .
He heard speaking over the roar of his ears, but couldn’t make out the words. It was definitely Jason.
But Max could spare him no thought. The baby had to come out. Quivering, Max placed his hand on his baby’s head, feeling its wet hair. He took one deep breath, trying to get oxygen in his panic, then began to push the baby up and back it.
It was agony. He screamed in pain. The baby kicked in protest. His stomach contracted. In the chaos, he lost his balance, falling to his knees, striking his elbow on the side of the tiny stall.
Jason was pounding on the stall door.
Max couldn’t talk to him, couldn’t do anything but give birth. He shucked off his jeans and boxers, spread his legs, and pushed.
The much denied baby shot out, to its ears and Max cried out again. The contraction faded, and he could hear Jason now, asking if Max was okay.
“I’ve cleared the bathroom and put a sign out saying its closed. Tell me what's going on, or I’ll call 911.”
Well, Max would need help getting out of here. And it was just as much Jason’s secret as it was his. With a shaking hand, he reached up and undid the latch, just in time for the next contraction to hit. He pushed, and the baby’s head shot out of him just as Jason flung open the door.
“Holy crap!”
Max gasped, leaning against the toilet, spreading his legs just a bit further. The dirty bathroom tile was cold. It felt good. The baby was turning inside him.
“Is that mine?” Jason asked. That health class did something for him after all.
Max could only nod.
“Shit. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Max didn’t have the breath for explanations. “Wanted you safe,” he gasped. “If I was. . . if they did. . .”
Another contraction. He pushed, weakly. The head bobbed forward, but didn’t move. God, he was exhausted.
Jason knelt down beside Max, his health class training coming into play. “How long have you been in labor?”
“Water broke—nngghh—last night.” The head still didn’t move. He was so tired.
“Last night!”
“Head crowned. . . just. . . just before the—” Another contraction. Max pushed with the pain as hard as he could, but the head wasn’t moving.
“Shit, man.”
Another contraction. No progress. Something was catching on his narrow hips. His body wasn’t made for birthing the way a woman’s was. “I think, I think it’s stuck.”
“I got you, give me a moment.” Then Jason left, leaving Max alone, spread wide and bare, a baby head between his legs, on a dirty bathroom floor. He flopped his head back, resting it on the toilet seat. Gross, yeah, but he didn’t have the energy to care any more.
Another fruitless contraction.
Then Jason was back. He crouched down by Max. “this is going to hurt,” he warned. Then he shoved his hand into Max’s crotch alongside the baby’s neck. Max opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. He was too tired. The pain was awful, the stretch terrible. Then Jason was fumbling around in there with his whole-ass hand, pulling and tugging. Max’s hips strained.
Another contraction began, tensing Max’s stomach which was peeking up through his shirt, which had ridden up.
With the hand that wasn’t currently inside Max, Jason pressed down on Max’s stomach. “Push!” he ordered.
Max pushed. Jason pushed with one hand and pulled with the other. The tension, the pressure built, and built. Max was being torn apart. He was going to die. He was—
Something gave. With a gush, the crying baby shot out into Jason’s waiting hands.
The three of them sat, panting, staring at each other. “I want to raise this baby with you, if you’ll let me,” said Jason. “Only reason I haven’t been with you more is, well, I didn’t want to get us both kicked out. But I think you’re amazing and—”
Max smiled. “You’re pretty good too. Let’s do this.”
I found this and originally I wasn't sure what it was. It zips in the back, and given the design and the request for more crossdressing content, I figured I'd play around a little.
…..not even six hours later i got an offer of a well paying full time long-term job with free room and board in queens in nyc, allowing me independence and a way to escape an abusive situation and an unhealthy environment
likes charge reblogs cast, folks, this is the good luck post
the last time I reblogged this post right before I got a great job, in a permanent work-from-home position, with benefits, retirement, and a salary literally 3x what I was making before, doing something I really like.
