Hello! You can call me Pumpkin (34, she/her), welcome to my blog! 18+ content only here, minors do not interact you will be blocked. Likewise, if there is no age in your bio or a pinned post, you'll be blocked on sight. Them's the rules.
Here you'll find mostly pregnancy/birth centric content! Be sure to check my profile description if writing requests are open, although they're rarely (if ever) closed. All stories can be found under the tag 'pumpkin writes'.
I'm pretty flexible in terms of what I can write for you, but here are a few hard no's, just to be clear:
watersports/scat
underage
bestiality
hyperpreg
gore/violence/death
rape
no pre-existing children/students/etc. present in the scenario
Asks only, I do not respond to IMs, and I am currently not open to roleplaying.
If I have not answered your prompt then either 1) Tumblr ate it, or 2) I either couldn't think of anything for it or just wasn't feeling it. Please don't take it personally if your prompts aren't answered.
Under the cut is some extra info so you can get a better idea of what I love writing about. Enjoy your stay!
It’s still wild to me how other people share niche turn-ons such as pregnant bellies growing rapidly and struggling to hold off from giving birth into tight-fitting clothes. Like what do you mean you’re into that too, surely that’s just my weird little thing…
🫄 🥚 2️⃣ 🚜 🔌 🪑 🧠 for the denial game, perhaps, please! 💙
You don't know why you wake up equally achy and horny, but what you do know is that you have way too many tasks to get done today to properly tend to either of those feelings.
Once you're up, you stretch and yawn before wincing slightly, the movement seeming to have aggravated the ache even further. Grumbling quietly to yourself, you rummage in your bedside table for exactly two things—a half empty bottle of ibuprofen, and one of your personal favorite silicone plugs. You take the painkillers first, swallowing with a mouthful of tap water and hoping it tackles that dull throb in your lower back, before pulling down your sleep shorts and underwear in order to slowly, slooowly ease the plug into yourself, until a shaky breath escapes you once the base is fully snug against you.
There. With any luck, your body won't be sore for much longer, and the thickness of the plug should hold you over until you can tend to your personal needs properly. Tossing aside your shorts and pulling off your shirt, one of your hands idly rubs at your stomach as you go about getting ready for the day. It's been firmer than usual, rounder, but you don't really pay it any mind; you've always been on the thicker side, and you figure the pendulum is just swinging a little on the heavier side for now.
After getting dressed and heading outside, it's relatively easy to fall into your usual routine of cleaning, checking up on your livestock, everything else that's become muscle memory to you by now. Except, you find yourself needing twice as many breaks as usual; the ibuprofen clearly hasn't worked worth a shit, and at one point you find yourself bracing against the outside of the barn, breathing shakily through a cramp that takes forever to finally let up. The only thing that keeps you even mildly distracted from the pain is the plug still nestled deep within you, but even that is starting to lose out to the discomfort wracking your tired body.
You're about to say forget it and just head back inside, but by this point you only have one thing left to do, and if you quit now it's gonna bother you for the rest of the day. There's absolutely no way that you're going to walk the entire perimeter of your fencing, not in the state you're in, so you opt to take one of the compact tractors instead. It takes a little doing to heft yourself up and onto the seat, but when you do you find yourself pleasantly rewarded by the pressure of the plug being nudged just a little deeper inside of you. A small grin rises to your face as you start the tractor up, thinking that perhaps this will be more pleasant that you thought it would.
True enough, the consistent rumble of the machinery beneath you and the slightly uneven terrain of the ground make for the deepest pleasure you've felt in quite some time, and there are a few moments where you very nearly lose track of where you're steering. The cramps, however, persist just as deep as the pleasure does, leaving you gripping the wheel so tightly that you're positive that your knuckles must be turning white beneath your gloves.
It comes to a head when, in the midst of groaning and panting through a cramp, you run over a particularly large boulder that you hadn't seen in your way. The tractor jolts, luckily staying upright, and you let out a startled yelp as you feel something give inside of you. Rivulets of liquid leak out of you, trickling unevenly around the plug and soaking the seat of your jeans. Fumbling to put the tractor in park, your hands shake as you turn the key, needing the rumbling to cease so that you can figure out what the fuck is happening to you.
An embarrassed flush rises to your cheeks at the mess you've made, but before you can try and calm yourself down you feel it again, a banding of intense pressure around your bloated midsection that seems to have only gotten worse in the wake of your accident. "What the fuck, what the fuck—" you pant as you realize that it feels like there's something moving down inside of you, something big. Your heart races with a bolt of panic; whatever is happening to you, you can't do it out here. In a stroke of cosmic misfortune, though, another deep rippling pain clenches at you right when your hand grips the keys, and in your rush to clutch at your belly you end up accidentally ripping the keys out of the tractor's ignition.
An aggravated sound escapes you as you hear them fall to the ground somewhere, although where exactly is unclear right now. What is clear is that there's no way you're going to be able to hobble back to the barn like this, and whatever is moving inside of you doesn't seem to care. Clenching your teeth, you find yourself bitterly grateful that no one is around to see as you manage to lift yourself up off of the seat just enough to shove your wet jeans and underwear halfway down your legs, before settling back down with a labored huff. Sitting down again sends a clear reminder that the plug is still firmly in place, and your eyes widen as you realize you can feel whatever else is inside of you pressing against it.
"Sh-shit, shitshitshit—" you moan, straining to reach down between your legs. The base of the plug is slippery now, and it takes you a couple of tries before getting a solid grip onto it. A long, low sound escapes you as you ease the thick plug out, another warm current of pleasure mixing with the pain, and the moment it's freed you feel even more liquid come rushing out of you, no longer being held back. Your hands move to your entrance, surprised to find it still gaping slightly, but it becomes clear that it's because whatever's inside of you is very nearly out.
"Hhhgh come on, come o-ohhhhnn!!" you heave, your chin nearly touching your chest as you bear down against the overwhelming pressure inside of you. With one hand still resting between your legs, you can feel something hard and firm stretching you open, and the texture is all too familiar as it fills your palm. "Is…is that a f-fucking egg??" With every push, it becomes clear that is exactly what is coming out of you; not only that, but it's big. Your hazy mind estimates that it's definitely well over the size of an ostrich egg, if the way it burns as it stretches you to the widest point is any indicator. With one more ragged, desperate yelp, you give it one more heaving effort before the egg fully slips out of you, and you very nearly drop it thanks to how badly your hands are shaking.
By now you're an absolute mess; eyes bleary, head pounding, your body thoroughly soaked from the waist down with more trickling fluid. Your belly is slightly smaller, but it still feels extremely firm near the bottom, and you swallow thickly as you realize there's still something inside of you. Keeping the egg nestled in the crook of one arm, your free hand moves down between your legs again, and when you dip a couple of fingers inside you can already feel the shell of another egg.
Another harsh contraction grips you, but by now you know what to do, and your cheeks bloom scarlet with effort as you push hard. Your entire body aches and trembles with effort, and the only thing you can cling to is knowing that this egg is coming a little easier since you've been stretched so much by the first one. It isn't as easy as you hope, though, and you once again find yourself screaming through the stretch, before just barely managing to catch the last egg as it slides out.
You slump back into the seat of the tractor, panting heavily as you listen to the steady drip of fluids pattering against the small floor space, an egg nestled in each arm. The realization that you still need to find where the fucking keys got flung to hits you, and you let out a humorless laugh.
i wanna be naive to my pregnancy until i’m pushing out your baby. i want you to assure me that my growing belly is just because of all the sweets i’ve been eating, that the shifting i feel inside me is just indigestion, and i want to completely blindly trust you. after all, how could i be pregnant? it’s not like you replaced my birth control with sugar pills or something. it’s not like you took off the condom when i wasn’t looking. it’s not like you slipped something into my drink to make me forget what you did to me.
and then, when the contractions start, when i get the insatiable urge to push, i want to see the look on your face. i want you to watch me as the realization dawns on me that ive been carrying your baby this whole time.
BUILD A BIRTH VOL. 2 - now with birth denial options!
@pumpkinbirth
🤰 female
🍼 human
1️⃣ Singleton
🌲 forest
🖐️ pushing baby back in
🦵 squatting
🧠 didn't know they were pregnant
POV: Third person (and she's bisexual, happy pride.)
Mina hated the outdoors. The freshness of the hiking boots that rubbed against her feet and were definitely giving her blisters, the clumsiness of how she waddled through the trail, and just how much the whole ordeal hurt should have been everyone's biggest clues that she was an imposter. Her life was usually spent in front of a video game console or wandering through the crowded halls of an anime convention amongst her peers. Where there was air conditioning and Wi-fi.
She took a swig of her water bottle and grimaced. She adjusted her cargo pants, one of the few items she hadn't needed to purchase for this trip. No, she'd bought them for a cosplay, covered them in patches, and kept them because they were one of the few things that still fit lately. Mina had always been a curvy girl, but her weight had been on the upswing lately.
No matter, she loved her body one way or another. She didn't love how her breasts didn't want to squeeze correctly into the tank top she'd bought just a week ago, when she'd agreed to this Tinder date, or how it felt like everything was cramping.
When were they going to stop?!
The girl she'd agreed to go hiking with had insisted it was a 'short hike,' and a 'beginner's trail.'
Beginner, Mina's ass. They had stopped three times already.
The girl was so pretty, though, with big, brown eyes and curly black hair that Mina could see herself losing her hands in while she-
A twinge of pain low in her abdomen stopped her. This pain had become a consistent companion, one that refused to leave her. She gritted her teeth and stopped to lean against a tree. Her date, oblivious, continued. Mina went to call out her name, but a new sensation hit her: dampness between her legs.
Holy shit, had she just pissed her pants?!
Humiliated, she stepped off the trail.
She couldn't face Celine after that. Fuck. Fuck, fuck. fuck.
Mina stared down at the wet spot between her pants, then slipped off her backpack and started to rummage through it. She had to have a spare pare of pants in there, right?! Maybe past her had been smarter, past her had figured something out...
As she fought through the overpacked bag (a lot of water, protein bars, some lube...sex toys...aha! A change of clothes that...was not hiking gear, that's for sure.) The change of clothes was a pair of shorts that was definitely meant for casual wear. They were much tighter than the cargo pants Mina was wearing.
Shit.
She groaned as the pain returned, leaning back against the tree. Maybe she should head back.
No, she couldn't leave Celine alone.
"Celine!" She called out. Silence.
She shoved everything back in her bag and started to waddle back towards the trail.
Where was the trail?
More swearing. Mina's navigation was barely enough to get her through an anime convention on a good day with a map, she was useless in the woods.
The next twenty minutes was her trying to find her way through these woods. It also involved the strange pain getting more and more insistent. She groaned, grabbing at a tree as the pain heightened to something that forced her to stop.
"Fuck, what is that?! Oh my god, am I getting heat stroke, or something?!" Mina's mind went to the various things that could happen from intense dehydration, but she had been drinking quite a bit of water on this hike.
"No, no, that's not..." She groaned. She gritted her teeth as she clutched her stomach. There was a strange movement under her hand as she held it there.
A...movement?
Her heart dropped.
Denial came first, a grief's crash course that had started with hooking up with one of her friends at an after-party and ended...here.
No, no, no.
She couldn't be pregnant, and it couldn't be ending here.
It wouldn't be real, because she wouldn't allow it to be real. If she refused it, it wouldn't happen. She would find Celine, make up an excuse about being sun-sick, and drive herself to a hospital, and she'd never be humiliated with...this.
Yes, she'd make it through.
She'd...somehow navigate out of the woods.
Each step was a fight. It felt like a crushing weight was slowly and painfully trying to nudge its way between her hips. The weight of the head settling into the crook of her cervix was inevitable and horrifying. It was violating, in its own rite. She had not asked for this.
She moaned desperately, digging her nails into another tree as she felt what she was sure was her cervix dilating a little more. How was she supposed to know when she was ready? A part of her mind knew her body would know...but would she?
She took a ragged breath and continued. It was an hour before she found the trail again. The nagging pressure between her legs didn't relent. Mina stumbled with each step, gasping and moaning through the mounting contractions.
"Please, stop," she sobbed, holding herself as she dragged her feet along the path. Each contraction felt like it was spreading her open from the inside, a violent pain that demanded she bear down and give in.
She refused. She couldn't be pregnant.
She kept going, step after step, walking through hell. Twenty minutes. Contractions Mina didn't count out of spite. The last one elicited a scream from her that echoed through the woods. She could feel the head slipping down further into her cervix, breaching the safety net she thought she'd have.
"No! No, oh my god, no, no, please..." Mina sobbed, stumbling and grabbing a nearby tree. She couldn't do this. She leaned against it and waited for the contraction to ease. If she refused to push, if she just...didn't do it...
She took a few more agonizing steps. Her body pushed for her and she wailed, trying to muffle the sound by covering her mouth with her hand.
No, she couldn't alert Celine, she wouldn't ruin this date--
She kept going. She barely moved a few steps between contractions, her voice raw from screaming through the pain as her body slowly pushed the baby she denied through the birth canal without her help. Mina cried out to anyone who would listen, but she was alone on the trail.
Onward she went, trying to find...what? Celine? Help? Her pain-hazed mind wouldn't answer.
The true horror came when Mina felt something begin to spread her open. She stopped, leaning her back against a tree and slipping her hand down her pants. She felt the head spreading her lips open, coming to a partial crown into her panties.
Dread made her heart stop, her breath catching hard in her chest. Once the moment past, she had nothing short of panic running through her veins like a poison.
"No, no, no, not here, no this," she choked, digging her nails into her thighs as her body pushed again without her help. She took a sharp breath, shaking her head in denial.
She couldn't give birth here, she couldn't let Celine see her like this---
Reason wasn't present. Mina reached down and pressed the soft part of her palm to the head and firmly pushed, pressing the baby back into her. Pain flooded her like the worst drug that she'd ever experienced. She screamed until her voice gave, her legs giving from under her and causing her to collapse onto the ground. She sat there on her hands and knees, sobbing and shaking for a few minutes as her body furiously contracted and pushed, trying to undo what she had done.
Keep walking.
It felt like hell.
It felt like an endless hell that she had been thrust into.
It was only ten more minutes before Celine found her.
"Mina! There you are! Oh my god, I thought I was gonna have to call--are you okay?!" Celine's eyebrows furrowed in concern, confusion, and then alarm.
"I'm--it's fine, I just---need to go home, I'm sorry. Um, stomach issues." Mina was a terrible liar, but the worst pain of her life wasn't making it better.
Celine was looking at her too hard, her eyes widening with each passing second.
"Sure, you're sure you don't want me to call someone--"
"No! Let's just--walk---"
"Let me help you..."
Celine, despite the hike, smelled like strawberries and had soft skin. Her hands were pleasantly calloused and Mina couldn't focus because there was another contraction. She tried not to cry out, but it made her choke and stumble.
"Mina, I really think we should call someone--"
Mina shook her head, her legs shaking under her. "It's fine, really--"
"Why won't you tell me?"
"Because you're really pretty, and really cool," Mina gasped between contractions, "And there's not a chance if I give birth to my best friend's baby in front of you on our first date that you'll ever call me back again!"
Celine stopped, stared, and blinked at Mina a few times.
"That's...a lot to process, but---you think I'm cool?"
"Celine!" Mina cried out.
"Right, right! Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?! I'd never take you hiking like this!"
"I didn't know!" Mina sobbed as Celine grabbed her arm for support, "I don't even like hiking!"
Celine's smile was warm and a little amused, but she didn't comment, instead she locked into the task at hand. "Alright, how far along are you?"
"I---pushed it back in," Mina gasped.
Celine gave her a concerned, almost chastizing look, "Okay, we're just---come on."
More walking. Mina thought she was going to die. She didn't. Celine took her off trail, to a beautiful spot next to a waterfall.
"I usually don't take people here on the first date, but we need clean water, and...well, I like you," Celine flushed. Mina was too busy fighting through a contraction.
"I think it's crowning again," Mina gasped. There was no time to take off Mina's hiking boots, which meant the cargo pants couldn't properly come off, either. So they just slid her pants down, revealing the outline of a head pressing against Mina's panties.
"Yep, that's a head." Celine confirmed.
Mina whined. Now that she was free of her pants, she instinctively lowered herself into a squat. Celine crouched down so she could get a better look at what was going on.
"Alright, beautiful, next time when you have a contraction, work with your body and push."
"I don't want to," Mina sobbed, "This isn't supposed to be happening."
"But it is, so you're going to have to do it," Celine responded firmly. It wasn't cruel or unkind, but like she'd done this before.
Mina was interrupted by searing pain, insistent and raw. She howled as she finally, for the first time, let herself push. She bore down hard, her legs shaking as she felt the head start to fully crown again. This time, it stretched to a proper crown, one that pulled her to a stage where-
Mina stopped pushing, whimpering. "It burns!"
"Yes, that's supposed to happen!" Celine soothed, reaching and gently rubbing Mina's thigh. "You have to push through the pain, Mina."
"I can't, I'm not ready..."
"Doesn't matter if you're ready, it's time, now push." When Mina looked down, Celine was staring right into her eyes. She let out another sob as she bore down. The pain was like nothing she'd ever experienced, a burn that she was sure would tear her in two.
It didn't. The head slid out of her. She gasped, the sensation new and overwhelming.
"Good! Now, don't push." Celine ordered.
"What? No, please, it--it--"
"I'm checking, give me a second," Celine ordered.
Agony again. Mina gasped through her body's insistent orders to bear down. Push, push, push---
"Okay, clear, go ahead. Give me a big one."
The shoulders were a fight. Mina screamed and squatted low as she pushed again, feeling the body of her baby twisting and turning in an attempt to move out of her.
"Fuck, fuck, so big, they're so big, fuck," she sobbed.
"Keep going," Celine coaxed.
Another push.
Another.
Mina sobbed, her thighs trembling under her.
"I'm--I can't---"
"One more," Celine got up and cupped Mina's face in her hands. "For me."
Mina bore down one more time, letting out a noise she was sure didn't come from her. The pain was unworldly, something she couldn't describe or process. Then it was over.
A pause. A silence that terrified her.
Then the scream of a healthy child.
Celine laughed, holding up a squirming baby.
"A girl!" She proclaimed, pressing the baby into your hands and helping you sit down.
"Can I tell you something, Mina?" Celine said softly. Mina gave her a tired shrug.
"You were incredible. That was harder than any hiking trail I could take you on. Maybe...a movie next time?"
🤰 / 🍼 / 2️⃣ / ✈️ or 🚃 / 🩲 or 💬 / 🪑 or 🧎 / 💨/ 🧠 (good lord this looks more complicated than it actually is, I just wanted to offer alternative options as a writer myself xoxo)
When it happens, I can tell exactly when it really hits you; that deep, insistent ache from inside.
To be fair, that in itself isn't entirely new, it's been happening on and off all day, but all it takes is a little firm reassurance on my end for you to leave the matter where it lies. After all, you trust me entirely; you trusted me when I explained away your weight gain over the past several months as nothing more than an unfortunate concentration of water weight around your midsection, and you even trusted me when I easily rationalized your water breaking an hour ago as just a spontaneous accident, and certainly nothing that would warrant us missing out on our trip.
That was your first mistake.
"Stop squirming," I murmur, noticing the way you've been trying to find a comfortable position for the last fifteen minutes. Your apology is quiet, marked by a hitch in your breath, and I don't miss the way your hands are currently grasping at the edge of your seat. "People are going to stare, you know," I add, although it's a little late for this; just about everyone on this train has taken notice of the clearly uncomfortable and quite heavily pregnant girl, and some have already whispered among themselves, wondering if it's even safe for you to be traveling in your condition.
Of course, you haven't heard a word of it, not when you're so focused on trying not to sweat and squirm in your seat beside me.
"I-I don't feel good…it feels like s-something is—"
"Didn't you hear me the first time? It's nothing, now stop it," I admonish you coldly, narrowing my eyes down at you. God, you look so good like this, with your cheeks flushed and brows furrowed, trying so hard to be good for me no matter how much your body is screaming that something is wrong. "Just sit. Still. No wriggling, no whining, and no pushing."
Confusion flickers through your eyes at the last words, but before you can even ask what I mean, you press your lips firmly together, whimpering as another tight, dreadful pain tightens its grip around your midsection. Sweat beads at your temples, and I can see the way your belly visibly contorts with the force of the contraction. I want to touch it, want to feel the sensation of those babies I put in you moving steadily downward, but I keep my hands to myself. For now.
Unfortunately for you, it becomes clear that whatever is happening to you is getting impossible to ignore, and when you shift in your seat once again I can see a significant bulging in your leggings that wasn't there when we had first sat down. Tears stream down your face as you try to tell me that something's wrong, something is stretching your poor little pussy wide open, but the pain has stolen all the sound from your throat and left you a whimpering mess as you try to obey me, try not to push.
You last all of fifteen seconds.
"It h-hurts, it's burning, I can't—" you moan through clenched teeth, and the bulge in your leggings grows bigger as whatever it is seems to be forcing its way out of you whether you make the conscious choice to push or not. When you finally give in and bear down against my wishes, a strangled mix between a yelp and a sob tears its way out of you, and all at once the soaked fabric between your legs stretches outward with a solid, squirming mass. I make no move to help you as you fumble to pull them down enough to reveal the wriggling, wailing baby that had just been born into your pants, a baby you had most certainly known nothing about.
Loud murmurs and hurries whispers of our fellow passengers erupt around us, and as you look up at me with a desperate question in your eyes, all I can do is shake my head disapprovingly. "You just couldn't do the one thing I asked of you," I click my tongue condescendingly. "and now all of these people are going to have to watch you give birth again."
Your face drains of what little color remains, but before you can open your mouth to ask what I mean, you feel it again; that awful, contracting tightness from within you, that feeling of something massive inching its way down. The cry that tears free of you almost seems to harmonize with the wails of your first baby, but instead of giving in and pushing, you shakily try to press your thighs closed.
I lift an eyebrow slightly, unable to keep an amused smile from rising to my face as I realize that despite the agonizing revelation of the pregnancy that I hid from yourself, you're still trying to obey me. Still trying not to push. "Hm…I suppose you do still know how to be a good girl," I muse aloud, and a tearful smile rises to your face, even as the head of your second baby still valiantly tries to ease its way out of you, centimeter after excruciating centimeter.
underrated aspect of birth is the fullness. the weight and stretch of the huge baby inside you before you even start crowning. the way it's just so fucking heavy and it's inside you and you can feel it whenever you move. fuckkk
🌲 forest
🏖️ beach
🏠 home
🚜 farm
🏢 office building
🏥 hospital
🛒 store
🚃 train/subway
🚗 car
🚌 bus
⛵ boat
✈️ plane
🧭 other (requestor specify)
MANNER OF DENIAL
🩲 tight clothing
🫴 holding head
🖐️ pushing baby back in
🔒 chastity belt
🪢 legs tied together
🤸 bad positions
💬 being told not to push
🛑 refusing to push
💊 medication
🔌 plug/other toy
🚩 forced denial
🏳️ willing denial
🃏 other (requestor specify)
POSITIONS
🧍 standing
🪑 sitting
🧎 kneeling
🙇 all fours
🛌 laying down
🦵 squatting
💧 water birth
🧘 other (requestor specify)
imagine getting pregnant, but because the other parent is some kind of otherworldly eldritch psychic monster who visited you in a dream and is trying to hide it's presence in your life, being cursed with a sort of mental block perception filter so you can't even percieve it. As the months progress you feel heavier, you can tell you've gained weight, but all the most obvious signs you just... can't notice or put the pieces together. Your mind just goes blank whenever you think about it too long. When people assume youre pregnant you laugh them off- you would never have a kid right now, are you kidding? Meanwhile they're looking at your heavy stretchmarked middle, shifting visibly with the huge spawn of your dream-lover and feeling like if they havent lost their mind, you have. When you go into labor, you still don't understand what's happening, your stomach cramps are just really bad today, you're sure. Your coworkers urge you to go to the hospital, but you just go home, confident that this will sort itself out with a little rest and some medicine. By the time you get in the elevator of your apartment building, the head is nearly in your hips, your stance becoming a wide waddle for comfort as a mysterious urge grows stronger and stronger. As you ride up to your floor, your waters break and you bear down on pure animal instinct, the huge head making your poor cunt bulge under your ruined work pants.
You manage to get to the hallway, and then fall to your knees just a few doors away from your apartment and the button on the front of your pants pops off, loosening them just enough that as you groan through another painful push, the head finally starts to emerge. You reach down to touch the thing coming out of you, and finally, finally, your mind is allowed to register what's really happening, just in time for you give birth to your firstborn. And your eldritch patron certainly isnt finished with you... you're too cute, knocked up and clueless...
oh anon your MIND
The idea of your patron erasing the experience from your mind afterwards (and presumably taking your strange progeny with them so there is no evidence of what occurred) so that they can keep you in a perpetual state of being cluelessly pregnant over and over again 10/10
(cw pregnancy kink) Have something a little different than usual that I forgot to post a while back, some fanart of a scene from @sapphicsounds.bsky.social's very good fic Knock Upper Bend Over
Huge, strong mercenary type escorting a sickly, prim priest in the wilderness between villages.
It's slow going, as the priest is often fatigued and sore from sleeping on a bedroll. And he's only getting worse.
The mercenary quickly learns that any comments about the priest's health are not appreciated. Neither is the suggestion to buy some kind of mount in the next village. Eventually, he stops asking entirely, quietly slowing his pace, taking breaks more often and making camp earlier and earlier.
Nothing helps, and one morning the priest—already paler and more pained than usual—simply collapses. The mercenary barely catches him, moving awkwardly with a pack on his back and front, and carefully lowers the priest to the ground so he can unburden himself and see what the problem is.
As expected, the priest starts to feebly protest at the first hint of his robes being lifted, getting more frantic when the mercenary moves to actually undress him. The pleas fall on deaf ears, as the mercenary was tasked with guarding the priests life first and his propriety second. But what he finds under the layers of cloth proves the desperate pants and gasps are not just about modesty.
Lying bare and vulnerable amidst the discarded layers like a peeled fruit, the priest's gravid state is undeniable. What would be a modest, far-from-due belly on one with birthing hips and a robust body looks ridiculous and overripe on the priest's small frame. The uncovered skin is even paler than his face, and a sparse trail of hair runs from his prominent navel down into...
The mercenary's gaze whips upward to safer territory. It lands on the smooth, round skin just in time to see an ominously slow, rippling movement distorting the surface. The priest sobs aloud, once, and immediately bites down on his red, swollen lip again. The mercenary is speechless, and the silence stretches on until it's too thick to break.
Not knowing what else to do, he wordlessly scoops up the priest and makes for the clearing they just left behind.
Would you prefer to deliver just the head into the fabric of your leggings and panty or the entire baby?
Full leggings or shorts? With the leggings you’ll have to pull them off completely to get to the baby. With the shorts, you can reach down one leg and grab it
In stories and RP’s my go-to is just the head being delivered into leggings and then the frantic pulling down of clothing to try and make space for the rest of the baby to come. Trying to push that head out when the tight fabric of my clothing makes the process even harder, the bulge in the crotch seam getting bigger the more I bear down, the shape of an obvious head behind the fabric is perfect. That said, there is appeal with the entire baby being born into clothing, that it just couldn’t wait any longer and had to be born right then and there. Depends on the scenario and my character I think.
