18+ Only, any pronouns, not a bot just a weirdo. Gathering my courage to post original writing for the first time lol. Please don't send me explicit asks.
Okay, so imagine you're on a sleeper ship on its way to either start or join a colony on a distant planet. It's going to take a few decades to arrive, but the ship needs a conscious crew to function, so the stasis is taken in shifts. Each crew spends about five years of the journey awake before rousing the next crew and returning to stasis themselves. In stasis, your biological functions don't stop, but they slow to a crawl. Your shift is near the beginning of the journey, so when you wake up, its almost time to land and begin your new life on a new world.
The first thing you notice as you slowly wake up is that you feel extremely bloated. Your the usually loose fabric of the stasis jumpsuit is stretched tight across your distended abdomen. Your insides feel unsettled; there's a tangible movement in your guts as they gurgle inside you. You've never heard of this as a side effect, but stasis does odd things to the body sometimes, so you're not worried. You figure it will be one of those things you just have to deal with for a few days, and it will wear off by the time you reach the planet.
The spike of excitement you feel at finally reaching your destination sets your belly squirming all the more vigorously. You give it a rub, trying to soothe it, and find it surprisingly firm to the touch. Now that you're a little more awake, you realize it's a lot bigger than you first thought, too. It's like there's a basketball inside you. You'll have to ask if this is normal.
Realizing you're awake, a doctor approaches, to go over all the standard post-stasis testing that was done as you slowly came around. She cheerfully asks how you're feeling.
Mostly fine, you say, but your stomach feels pretty strange.
She reassures you that everything about yours scans seems normal. You might feel a little off for a few days, but everything looks good, and your pregnancy is progressing as expected.
Hold on, you tell her, you aren't pregnant.
She insists that you are. There is a moment of confusion before she realizes of course you don't know yet, obviously you were still asleep. Its all such old news to the current crew by now that she completely forget she needed to brief you. Sorry about that. The cheerfulness is back, as if this was not completely insane news. Somehow, you became pregnant while you were in stasis. Numb with shock, you manage to ask her how it happened.
In addition to its many passengers, the ship was carrying an immense load of stored, frozen embryos. These were unrelated to any passengers, and were meant to be stored long term at the colony. There were problems in the past with isolated colonies becoming too insular, so these would have been added to the population over many years to keep the genetic diversity of the colony high.
Unfortunately, a few shifts ago, the storage freezers failed. The only way avoid losing the entire shipment was to implant as many of the embryos as possible, as quickly as possible. The crew that was working at the time had to make a call, and every available womb on the ship was pressed into service. Of course that crew took on some of the burden themselves, and those children were born on the ship and placed into stasis with their parents. But, there was another complication: if they had distributed the embryos evenly, there wouldn't be enough equipment to put all of those new children in stasis. So, they had to priorities placing as many as possible with the passengers who would be in stasis the longest, so the majority of the babies would be born either during the last years of the voyage or after it arrived.
She was pretty surprised by that herself when she woke up unexpectedly pregnant at the beginning of her turn, but she assures you that her own five year old triplets are doing great, and sees no reason your children won't do just fine as well. Again, as if that's the only part of this situation you would be worried about.
Hold on, you say. Is she telling you you're carrying three babies?!
Well no, she says. You're among the last to be woken up, so your cohort had the highest concentration of implantations.
Which is to say, you're actually carrying four. According to the scans, and accounting for the length of the stasis, you are around sixteen weeks along.
Your stomach clenches, the shock of this news pushing everything else from your mind. You stare down at your swollen belly, feeling faint as the understanding hits you that the squirming you feel is the first movement of new life growing inside you, awoken from stasis at the same time you were. You already feel huge, but you're not even halfway finished growing. What in the world are you going to do?!
So begins your new life on a new planet. Consider this one giant waddle for mankind.
Thinking about a middle-aged trucker who thought there wouldnāt be any consequences for pressing his fat pussy to every truck stop glory hole he came across.
For months, heās assumed his beer gut growing rounder and firmer is a natural consequence of his fast food diet. Sure, the tight, oblong shape is a bit extreme, but itās always looked bigger than it is beneath his surgically flat chest. And the aches and pains in his back and hips? Just inevitable results of years on the job.
Then he starts having abdominal cramps so bad that he barely makes it to the next truck stop to pull his rig over. As soon as he parks, he crawls out of the driverās seat and curls into the fetal position on the thin mattress wedged in the back of the cab.
He manages a few hours of fitful sleep before waking drenched in cold sweat. Clutching his massive, rock-hard gut, he groans and grunts through an agony that can only be his bowels splitting apart. Just when he thinks it canāt get any worse, the pressure in his pelvis becomes unbearable and the need to expel something massive overtakes him. With no thought in his head but relief, he fumbles his sweats and boxers down to his knees and begins to push.
A burst of fluid between his legs makes him think he must have wet himself, but he keeps pushing, not even caring if he ruins his mattress, as long as it ends the pain.
His low hums of effort spike with a scream as he starts to burn down there. He makes no progress despite desperate attempts to force out whateverās stretching him, and his voice pitches into panicked wheezing as he realizes itās stuck there, feeling like itās tearing him open.
Hand trembling, he reaches back. He finds his asshole swollen and puckered, but tightly shut. Cold dread prickles over his scalp. If itās not in his ass, that means itās in his pussy. But that canāt be. Because that would meanā¦
With his breath shuddering in the top of his throat, he brushes his fingertips down his perineum, feeling it bulge further and further until it meets the stretched-raw edge of his cunt. He whines through his teeth.
āNo, no, no way, no, nononoā¦ā he whimpers, but his protests change nothing as he feels lower and finds something bulbous and slimy forcing his pussy into a broad teardrop shape.
āFuck, no, I canāt, no, noāā Panic wets his eyes. He canāt have a baby, for fuckās sake, he doesnāt want this, heās not ready to be a daddy, he canātā āAUGH!ā
The next contraction comesābecause thatās what theyāve been all along, how could he be so stupid?āand he roars behind his teeth as he fights the urge to push. But itās too late. He feels his cunt lips spread, the babyās head inching forward until it domes out beneath his fingers. Then the contraction ends, and his muscles go limp, and the head slips back in, his poor cunt lips trying and failing to shut around it.
And, fuck, thatās worse! He groans and starts to sob, letting out a choked, delirious laugh as the spasming of his weeping makes the babyās scalp bob against his entrance, little spikes of stabbing pain.
Desperate for releif, he pulls one leg up and out of his bottoms, groaning as this makes more room in his pelvis. It also makes the bastard in his birth canal bulge forward, a promise behind his pussy lips.
When the next contraction comes, he accepts that heās going to be a daddy whether he likes it or not, pulls his leg up as far as he can, and pushes. With silent, trembling effort and a reddening face, his overwrought abs and stretched cunt bear down and his life-ruining surprise crowns, reducing his pussy lips to strips of fire and tearing a scream through his teeth.
Then the contraction ends, and the baby sinks back in.
āNO!!!ā he screams, clawing at his birth-soiled sheets. āNo, no, god, please, no, NO!!ā
His chest hitches, and he lies there panicking, envisioning hours of excruciating pain as the head stretches him over and over, never fully leaving. Heās dizzy and panting when the next contraction hits, and barley has the presence of mind to try to push. But he doesnāt have enough control, and the pathetic spasming clenches of his muscles only torment his ruined entrance as the head inches out and back in.
Whining, he decides something has to change. He doesnāt know any other way to get up, so he steels himself and rolls over onto his laboring gut. He screams behind pinched-shut lips, and it takes him several shaking attempts to get his limbs underneath him and lift himself onto his hands and knees. Thereās barely any relief to be found in the position, but every little bit helps, and he groans and whimpers as he rocks back and forth, trying to find the angle that spreads his hips the widest.
āOh, fuck, okayāhnng!ā The next contraction wrings through him, and he leans back, every muscle reduced to trembling as he bears down with all his might. A high scream ekes through his teeth as he pushes the head to a crown again, Yes, yes, please, echoing in his headā then he stops contracting, and the baby stops moving.
āAUGH! NNNGHGHā NNNOOOOO!ā he roars, his voice scraping his throat. He tries to push again, pushes until his face burns and he goes dizzy, but nothing happens before he has to give up and wheeze for air. Pathetic whines and whimpers punch out of him with every gasping breath as he realizes that heās stuck crowning until the next contraction comes to save him.
Morbid, desperate curiosity, he reaches back to feel. He chokes out a formless scream as the gentlest brush of his fingertips only stokes the agony of his tormented pussy lips, if they can even be called that anymore, completely taut around the head. Itās huge, magnitudes larger than anything heās ever taken, a perfect circle displacing his pelvic bones and his tdick and his asshole, reshaping his means of pleasure into nothing but a tortured birthing hole.
Finally, finally, he contracts. He slaps his hand down on the mattress and braces himself and pushes, pushes so hard that even his urge to scream is reconstituted into birthing energy, his chin to his chest and his thighs trembling and his asshole bulging as the head somehow stretches him even wider. He keeps expecting it to pop out, but it only burns him more, and more, and moreā and the contraction ends.
He screams, so desperate that his own voice frightens him, and falls down to his elbows, his pried-open pussy angled high in the air. How could it be so big? Fuck, fuck, heās never gonna spread his legs for anyone again, not that anyone will want his pussy once itās left uselessly gaping by this massive bastard. He pants and swears and sobs. Fluids tickle down the insides of his thighs, probably blood as his poor cunt perpetually crowns this massive head.
The next one comes, and heās so delirious with pain and exhaustion that he pushes just like that, elbows on the mattress and cunt in the air, the infant inside him entirely unmoving as he tries to force it out almost vertically. Itās only when his feels the bulk inching deeper into his birth canal and the burn reducing around the crown that he realizes his mistake.
āNo, no, no, fuck, fuck, no!!ā he shrieks, shoving himself up onto his hands, but itās too late. His body heaves as it falls into a resting period, and desperately he reaches back to feel how much progress he lost. The perfect circle of his pussy has returned to that teardrop curve, the head barely engaged between his lips. āFuuuuuuck,ā he whines, and his continuous sniveling dissolves into sobs.
He spends the minutes waiting for the next contraction weeping pathetically, feeling wretched and stupid and sorry for himself. But when the next one comes, he grits his teeth and reaches up for the back of the driverās seat. He wrenches himself upright as he can, knees spread, just as the contraction reaches full intensity, and starts to push. Then his eyes snap wide.
āOhā NOā!!ā Thereās hardly time to register his mistake, and none to fix it. He can only screech at the top of his lungs as gravity shoots the head back into a full crown, a stab of agony that makes him sure his pussy has ripped open. But thereās still resistance, so maybe notā he pulls in a few deep breaths, laced with uncontrolled, rising and dropping vocalizations, then drops his head and keeps pushing with everything he has left.
The world goes dark and quiet, the rush of his blood the only sound left in his head. Somehow his cunt stretches even further, and the pain eclipses anything he thought possible, and for a moment he longs for the release of deathā
Then a pop, a burst of hot fluid down his legs. He pulls in scratchy, heaving gasps, clinging to the headrest as he tries not to fall over. Fuck, he was really close to passing out. But heās awake, and the fire has given way to the strange sensation of something heavy and round between his legs.
Trembling, he reaches back to feel.
āOh,ā he sobs. āOh, holy fuck.ā
Heās giving birth. Heās having a baby. Its shoulders still press like an anvil behind his cunt, but the head is out, itās there, half an hour ago he had no idea he was even pregnant and now heās cupping some strangerās baby between his legs.
āOh my god, oh my god,ā he mumbles. He allows his head to go limp and just lets his body hang there, belly still heavy on his thighs, offspring still wedged in his vagina. He somehow has the presence of mind to check for a cord around the neck. The relief when he finds none is less for the childās safety and more for being spared another complication. He closes his eyes and tries to use the moment of rest for all itās worth.
The reprieve isnāt all itās cracked up to be. He groans as he feels the baby twisting inside of him, the shoulders pressing against his entrance but not yet breaching it. He grimaces through the strange sensation, panting as he dreads passing the rest of the body.
āOh, fuck, not yet, no,ā he whimpers, but thereās nothing to be done with the next contraction other than to push. He hears himself making an animal sort of sound, a deep lowing, once again sure heās going to tear. Then he feels the baby lurch forward against his hand, and groans with pain and relief as his fingers find the shape of a shoulder bulging out of him. The more malleable shape keeps it from being as bad as the head, though he still whimpers in dismay when the contraction ends with just the one shoulder out.
āOkay, almost, almost there,ā he pants. āJust gotta get it out, gotta get it out of meā¦ā
Ready for this to be over, he tightens his grip on the head rest and draws one trembling leg forward, then the other, to perch his laboring body in a deep squat. He winces as the weight inside tries to shift forward. āAlmost,ā he mumbles. āSoonā¦ā
And it is soon. He contracts, and pushes, and pushesā
And with a final wail, he pops the babyās other shoulder free, one last twist of pain before it slips out of him in a flood of liquid. He more or less catches it, though the mattress helps.
āHoly shit,ā he whispers. āHoly fuck.ā
He doesnāt really have his right mind about him anymore. Disorientation and exhaustion and a half-formed concern for the infant he just expelled all come together, and somehow he finds himself limping into the nearby truck stop diner wearing nothing but his boots and shirt, disgusting birthing blanket wrapped around the newborn to keep it warm.
The other patrons stare at this gruff, bearded man well into middle age, and the umbilical cord dangling between his pussy and the squalling newborn in his arms, undeniable proof to anyone who looks that he just labored out a baby.
Name pending, but I needed a tall butterfly fairy off of the white morpho I saw todayā¦. I need to really collect all my thoughts for style fairy universe. I wanna write fantasy stuff š
I've seen a lot of people on here responding to the recent news that america has decided to fuck everyone forever, and here's my two cents.
I completely understand if people feel personally uncomfortable engaging with pregnancy content considering what's on the line. Much love to all who can't engage in this space right now, truly.
At the same time, it's important to remember that literally all sexual content is, and always has been, politicized. You are not a bad person for engaging with a fetish. Sexual fantasy does not represent your morality and indulging in those fantasies in a safe and consensual manner is not an immoral act.
You are not a bad person for being horny while bad things are happening. You are not a bad person for not feeling bad 100% of the time because bad things are happening. The world sucks shit and it is your duty to wrest joy out of its slimy grasp.
Most importantly: we must not self-censor. Fascism relies on at-risk groups preemptively giving up ground that hasn't even been demanded of them. It's scary out there, but there is also a lot of fear-mongering going on. We can't throw everything out the window now. We are here, we are queer, and we're staying put.
Nikolai making a grand discovery (it was supposed to be Winston, one of his husbands, to be surprise pregnant but he would be way too miserable so Nikolai it is..... It's also funnier because he didn't know he could get pregnant)
It's time for you to bear your kingdom an heir. There's an old tradition that no one can know who puts the heir in your womb--that way none of them can challenge you for control of the throne. Even you can never know.
So the month of the ceremony, you're bent over a silk breeding bench and strapped in place for easy access, and every adult in the kingdom gets a chance to put their cock in you. It may take days, but someone's seed will catch eventually.
Not to yuck anyone's yum, but I do get tired of "pretty boy" this, "cute boy" that. I would love more stuff talking about burly, hairy men. What about a big beefy biker guy, covered in hair and tats with what looks like a huge beer gut, only to find out as the months go on that he's very, very pregnant? Maybe he doesn't even realize it until his belly button has popped out and he can see the kicks from inside his swollen gut jutting out.
How about a broad, fat trucker who spends most of his time on the road, and finds himself gaining weight? He thinks it's just the long hours and days of sitting on his ass, until his water suddenly breaks in the middle of a haul.
For a historical or fantasy setting, maybe a brawny mercenary doesn't really know much about how pregnancy works, or just doesn't believe he can get pregnant anymore. He finds his armor getting tighter, and no matter how much he tries to work it off, his belly just keeps getting bigger and rounder. Maybe he gets a larger set that he can manage to squeeze himself into even in the final months, but it turns out to be a big mistake when he goes into labor and has to struggle to get out of it again, all while a baby is crowning between his legs.
for those curious: essentially, Joraās a wizard in training on a Magical Questā¢ļøĀ to discover his sort of personal magic power source (or anchor). The quest in question is a year-long solo journey through a magical wasteland, and poor Jora didnāt realize he was pregnant until after heād already started out. And to make matters worse, heās starting to suspect that his anchor might have something to do with his pregnancy.Ā
so now heās wandering around, heavily pregnant, trying to survive in a bizarre northern dreamscape where reality is constantly folding in on itself, wondering what exactly to do about the fact that a. that babyās gotta come out eventually and b. apparently his magic ability is contingent on him being pregnant, which isā¦ an issue.Ā
