sky ♡

23f

[itsdrewharrisontoo]

The Vault - Week 24 - BONUS - Fat Baby, Fast Baby

Hey Bunnies! 🐰💛 Yes, you've read that right, here's a Vault exclusive bonus story! I’ve been sitting on this one for a while and finally decided to finish it lol It came out even filthier than I expected, so of course I had to share. Appreciate you all so much. Can’t wait to hear what you think. 💗

Word Count: 3,746 words

Summary: A 43-weeks pregnant woman is edged till her fat baby slowly crowns.

Author’s Notes/Warnings: MDNI. 18+ only. Explicit birth, vaginal and anal sex, belly worship, massive baby, massive head and cheeks, lactation, orgasm denial (edging), overstimulation, cockwarming, breeding kink, consensual non-consent fantasy. All characters are consenting adults. Reader discretion advised due to the intense sexual and birth-related themes.

She cried out, helpless against the weight inside her, the way her body had started bearing down on its own. “I’m not pushing,” she sobbed. “I’m not, I swear, but he’s coming. Oh God—ohhh God—he’s coming on his own—”

“Yeah, he is,” her husband groaned, slamming deep and staying there, grinding against her as she screamed and clenched around him. “Let him crown on my cock, baby. Show me how wide you can stretch for him.”

She moaned long and loud, hips shaking as she reached for the bedframe with both hands, body arching. She couldn’t stop it now. The pressure had shifted. Her pussy was being forced open from the inside, her lips swelling, stretching wide around the hard curve of their son’s head. She felt it — the unmistakable drag, the burn starting at the rim. She wasn’t just full anymore. She was crowning.

Her knees buckled. She let out a strangled gasp and collapsed forward, pulling him with her, still buried deep in her cunt, the weight of her belly pressing into the mattress. He didn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop until that fat head was sitting right at the edge of her hole, pulsing against the stretch.

“Stay like that,” he growled, pulling out slowly, eyes locked on her glistening slit. “Don’t you dare push.”

“I c-can’t hold it,” she choked out, her voice wrecked with need. “I’m going to cum, I swear—I’m gonna cum and he’s gonna come out, I can’t stop him.”

“Not yet,” he warned, his fingers sliding down to press gently on the bulge of her opening. Her pussy twitched around nothing, the crown spreading her wider, inching into view. She moaned at the contact, face buried in the sheets, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

“Please,” she gasped. “Please let me—he’s right there—oh fuck, oh fuck—he’s making me his bitch—”

He leaned in, breath hot at her ear, one hand on her clit now, slow and firm. “You’re not gonna push. You’re gonna pant. You’re gonna hold him right there for me. You hear me?”

She nodded frantically, panting like a woman possessed, hips twitching, lips stretched taut around the unmoving weight of their baby’s head. She was wide open and desperate, her clit throbbing under his fingers, her cunt fluttering around the impossibly tight stretch.

“God,” she sobbed. “I can feel him crowning. I can’t hold him—he’s gonna make me cum—I swear I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he said. “Cum around his head. Show me how it feels when he breaks you open.”

---

If you love what you read and want even more, consider joining The Preggo Fantasy Vault! For just $5 a month, you get a brand-new, original birth story every weekend, plus exclusive bonus stories every now and then, meaning you’re getting way more than four exclusive stories a month—stories you won’t find anywhere else. 👇🏻

[stretchedboy]

Something I've been thinking about a lot recently is trying to give birth to a big baby, so big that it takes multiple days to give birth to it.

Spending alllll day whimpering and screaming through contractions, pushing as much as I can, only to still have the big baby lodged in my cunt at the end of the day. Then, I have to rest with the baby mid-way through crowning because my body just can't take it anymore, and I need sleep.

The contractions are more spaced out due to sheer exhaustion, but even still, every 10-15 minutes a contraction pulls me from sleep. I push deliriously, as strong as I can while still being half asleep, running off of pure animalistic instinct to give birth, but the effort is weak and barely any progress is made, and I fall asleep with my cunt stretched wide.

I wake up in the morning, still crowning with a massive baby, and repeat it all again.

[pleasure-victim]

concept: holding the crown in with your hand because the head is huge and it feels like it's going to split you in half, but the contractions are so hard you can't help but bear down, leaving you simultaneously pushing down and push the head back up into your body

[flnpushy-deactivated20250719]

Babies head gets stuck.mov

A few simple rules with these videos. If you want to save them for your personal collection be my guest. However PLEASE DO NOT repost these videos on other sites! Re-blogging on tumblr is ok, Just keep them on Tumblr. If I see them elsewhere I will have no choice but to remove them. Thanks.

[donotpush]

Freg; driveway, car, car keys

"N...no, I can't!"

"The car is right there!"

The car was, indeed, right there. Just a few steps away from her. If she really tried, she guessed she could make it there before the baby crowned in her pants.

"I can't, James!" Laura screamed, "It's coming now!"

"But...!" James screamed too, the car keys jingling in his hand as he rushed towards her. "Just get in the car and we'll be in the hospital in no time...!"

Laura let out a long, guttural moan as the baby pressed against the fabric of her panties. Her hands moved from the sides of her huge stomach, to lower, to the hem of her pants, desperate fingers tugging at the waistband as she pulled the fabric down past her knees.

She had to push. She was not going to make it to the car. The baby was coming here, in the middle of the driveway.

It wasn't that she didn't want to try, but the baby was right there. If she moved one single step more, it was going to come out. She wasn't sure how much she could fight it because her own body was pushing, even when she tried not to.  

"James, it's coming!" she whimpered, bending her knees, her hand moving to grip James' arm for support. She almost brings him down with her. "I can't- ughn, it's right there! I'm pushing, it's coming, it's coming!"

James looked around. The passenger seat door was open, the keys in his hand, and a few of their neighbors had come out to watch what was all the screaming about.

And between Laura's legs, the head of the baby was crowning. Well, they definitely didn't need the car now.

[cozybirth]

One of the hottest videos I have seen recently! The mother looks gorgeous and she does an amazing job giving birth. It is a wonderful watch!

[cozybirth]

This is one of my favorite birth videos! I love how intimate this video is. The mother shows her beautiful body as she gives birth. I love her breasts and vagina that is shown throughout the video. She makes some good noises when she is pushing and crowning. Seeing her facial expressions as well makes this a great watch! I give this a fantastic view on a wonderful birth video.

[alibelly-deactivated20260110]

🤍

[birthingfantacies]

I know alot of you enjoyed the audios I used to do, so here is a quick clip of me breathing and panting through a heavy contraction.

[pushing-curse]

Fuckkkkk I wanna have a car birth with my partner desperately begging me not to push as the first baby in a set of multiples descends and I'm yelling that I HAVE to push, I can't hold back anymore, I NEED TO, and I'm pushing our first baby into my pants as I struggle to pull them off in the confines of my seat

[fan-forever-deactivated20250724]

come on baby, just one more big push for mommy and you'll be done. come on baby you can do it.

[wannabemumma]

Mmmmmmmmm rambly horny nonsense incoming

Tw: labor/birth, mild dom/sub relationship dynamics

I imagine myself so overdue it hurts, madly in love with the size of my body, crammed into a dress that leaves nothing to the imagination so I can go out on your arm. We’re attending a party for your work, something important, something I wouldn’t miss for the world. Even if I’ve been having contractions all day, my belly’s dropped, and there’s mounting pressure in my pelvis.

I’ve got a good poker face, but you know I’m in labor from the moment you open my car door. My contractions are visible through the fabric of my dress, and it becomes immediately obvious how stiff I get every few minutes. You won’t correct me, though; I’m being such a good girl for you.

The longer the night goes on, the deeper into my labor I sink. Contractions ramp up in speed and intensity, my grip on your arm gets stronger and stronger, and every now and then, you get to hear a groan slip from my lips. You know I don’t have long now, that my cervix is probably nearly dilated, that my waters are holding on for dear life. The pad you saw me sneak into the bathroom is probably soaked through, especially with how there’s a small trail of liquid following me around as the night goes on. Still, you do nothing. I’m being so good for you, and this has always been a fantasy of mine, so why ruin both of our fun?

It isn’t until the party ends and we head home that it becomes abundantly clear how far gone I am. My waddle is pronounced, my legs so far apart that the only possible explanation is that I have a baby in my birth canal. I blame it on my back, and you pretend to agree, but neither of us is hiding our true feelings well anymore. On the drive home, I try to keep up with conversation, but I keep letting more and more whimpers out until finally, I stiffen up and let out a loud groan. My waters flood your expensive car seat, soaking into the leather and drenching the floor mat. You couldn’t care less. This is the hottest thing I’ve ever done for you, and I know it.

At the next red light, I peel off my dress and pull my panties to the side, giving you a stunning view of your baby’s head. I’m crowned beyond belief but far too ecstatic to care. I let my moans ring out as I push your first baby into the world, trying to take it slow for you, doing everything I can to satisfy you. I see that hungry look in your eye. You love me like this. I love me like this. By the time we’re home, I’ve got a slick baby on my chest and another quickly spreading me all over again. I pull my panties back on, hardly covering the bulge of the emerging head, and slowly waddle my way inside. The rest of our litter is born in our bed, where their next round of siblings will be conceived a few short weeks from now. This is how I want to spend my life. Full of babies, birthing litter after litter for you, operating for your pleasure above all else. How many do you think we’ll have next, darling?

[gutiti26]

[mpreg-eggs]

Calling preg, birth, ovi, and belly enthusiasts!

Trying to follow more kink blogs please reblog or comment telling me you’re into any of the following things and I’ll follow u <3

-pregnancy/mpreg/nbpreg

-birth

-ovipositon/egg laying

-big round bellies in general

I just want to give a special shout out to all my trans homies in this community ily keep doing what ur doing ;3

[gravid-transluna]

Commission for @birthedstars, I adored this prompt!

Melanie, a popular cosplayer, has been keeping pregnancy a secret from social media and her fans. It's con season and she is currently at the final one before she is due to give birth along with her non-cosplaying friend Lea. As she's taking photos with her fans, she feels a trickle in her pants and a pain stronger than any she's had before hit her belly. It's a week before she's due; panicked and struggling to keep her composure, Melanie has to rely on Lea to shoo away people begging for photos and conversation. Melanie doesn't want an audience for this, but as each contraction passes it becomes less likely. Lea either needs to get her out of the convention center or find a secluded spot for her friend. If she doesn't, this baby is going to come out in a room filled with hundreds…

Cons, Cosplay and Crowning

words: 3158

content: clothing birth, inconvenient birth, birth denial, fpreg

Melanie had told herself that this would be her last convention before the baby arrived. Giga-con was one of the largest cons in the country. Packed from floor to ceiling with fans, cosplayers, collectors, artists, photographers; lines out the door, every booth crowded, a sea of vibrant anime-hair… It was a sight to behold, and something Melanie had no intention of missing, pregnancy or not. She had quite a few fans as well. Enough to have a pretty constant stream of attention focused on the booth where she sold autographs and photos and voice recordings.

A minor detail: her fans didn’t know that she was nine months pregnant, due in a week. Her baby bump had remained small throughout her pregnancy, allowing her to hide it fairly well, relying on cosplays involving belts or flowy skirts and dresses. Her various social media accounts mentioned nothing about a coming baby, only her next convention dates and wig ratings.

“You’re seriously doing Zero Two for your last con before the baby?” Lea, her friend, had asked Melanie. This character, a mech pilot, wore a skintight suit.

“It’ll be okay,” Melanie said, patting the tight curve of her abdomen. It was smooth, and only nude it was obvious that there was a stretch to her skin that could only be from a swollen womb. “People notice the cosplay, not the person behind it. Besides! This is the biggest con we’ve ever done. I want to do something that’ll steal the show!”

Lea sighed. “Just don’t be walking around too much. And let me know if I need to yell at some fans. I know you’re too nice for that.”

Melanie had smiled. “What would I do without you?”

“Whatever. Here,” walking over to Melanie, who was busy struggling with her suit in the mirror. “Let me zip you up.”

This was a week ago. The night before the con she’d been experiencing Braxton Hicks, small irregular spasms in her back and belly. When she woke up in the hotel, padding to the full-length mirror in the bathroom, she couldn’t help but gasp. Her belly had dropped overnight, the head of her baby nestled deep in her hips now. When she placed her hand under the taut surface, she could feel the weight, low. As she watched the mirror, the muscles around her womb clamped in a fiery band. She winced, doubling over.

Is this… a contraction?

“Mmn,” she moaned quietly under her breath, cupping her small bump. Lea yawned and rolled over in bed. Sleepily she lifted her head. “Mel? You okay?”

“Um.” Melanie straightened as her belly relaxed. “I’m not sure, but I think I just had a contraction.”

“Jesus, Mel!” Lea was awake now, trotting over to the bathroom. “Wow, your belly. It looks lower. Should we head to the hospital?”

“No!” Melanie shook her head. “No way. We dropped so much on these tickets, they’re non-refundable, you know. Besides, that was my first contraction. Labor can take days.”

Lea hesitated. “Are you sure you’re even gonna fit into that suit now? It was a challenge before your belly looked like, well, that.”

“It’s a stretchy material,” Melanie assured her, and sure enough, it fit—barely.

They waited in line at the center and got checked in, and by the time they set up the booth, Melanie had been enduring constant regular contractions. They wrung her womb, squeezed the breath from her lungs. The baby’s head was ramming against her cervix with nearly unbearable force, and soon she couldn’t keep sitting at their booth, gritting her teeth behind a smile for her fans, hand trembling as she signed autograph after autograph. She was getting nervous now. The convention closed at eight, and it was barely two. She and Lea hadn’t even had a snack yet. All she could think about was the baby in her belly, the movements, even more forceful as her belly shrank and squeezed her restless child on all sides. No, she had to stand and pace. The pressure was too bad to be sitting, it felt almost as if she was seated on a bowling ball, lodged between her legs.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lea knit her brows. Sweat beaded on Melanie’s forehead and her cheeks were red with exertion, but she could blame those things on an overheated scalp and too much powdered blush.

“Fine!” Melanie chirped, a little out of breath. “Just feeling very, very pregnant.”

Lea looked apprehensive. “Not long now.”

“Long enough,” Melanie said. “Hey, let’s walk around for a bit.” She painstakingly climbed to her feet as Lea assisted. Standing, the pressure was so much worse, and she had to resist a low groan.

“We’ll be back later,” Lea told the people lingering around the booth. “Hey—c’mon people, give her some space.”

Already overwhelmed with the sensations in her body, the pain and pressure and urgency she’d been ignoring for so long, fighting her way through the press of bodies was downright dizzying. She was sorely regretting the body suit now. She was streaming sweat, blinking it out of her eyes, and yet the suit didn’t permit the slightest bit of room or air, practically boiling her alive. The hot pleather irritated the skin of her stomach, taut and sensitive, broiling with her impatient baby. Worse, the pleather rubbing against her tender, pregnancy-swollen nipples sent shivers coursing down her spine. The stimulation wasn’t exactly slowing her labor.

Lea, her knight in shining armor, led her through the crowds to the nearest restroom. Suddenly their path was interrupted by a troupe of Mandalorian cosplayers, and one of them passed between Lea and Melanie, breaking their grip. Suddenly, Melanie was alone and couldn’t spot Lea anywhere, couldn’t even spot the restrooms anymore.

A contraction was coming on, a strong one. The pressure was nearly buckling her legs. “Oh no….” Melanie said under her breath. 

Then her body clenched violently. A low mooing noise was drawn from her throat, nearly unrecognizable from her usual pitch. The constant murmur of the crowd was enough to drown her sounds out, but she could scarcely believe they were coming from her in the first place. Teased pink strands of hair fell into her face, disguising her strained features. All people noticed was a Zero Two standing strangely wide-legged in the aisle, with an odd curve to her midsection.

The pressure surged and Melanie gasped. Instinctively she widened her stance even more. The pain clasped her, then suddenly— a release.

“Oh, god,” Melanie moaned as fluids trickled down the seams of her body suit. The contraction faded, leaving her thoughts racing. Those are my waters. Shit! Shit!

“Mel! There you are!” Lea’s face appeared from the crowd. Melanie looked at her, clasping her round bump, and Lea noticed her stricken expression.

“What is it?” She leaned in and cupped Melanie’s cheek. “Hey, what happened? Who do I need to kill?”

“No,” Melanie said breathlessly, closing her eyes under Lea’s touch. “I think—I think my water just broke.”

Lea’s eyes widened but before she could say anything they were interrupted.

“Excuse me?” A younger teenager brandishing an iPhone. “Could I get a picture? I love Zero Two.”

Melanie plastered a smile on her face and smiled before Lea had the chance to shoo the girl away. She just couldn’t say no to fans. The girl’s friend backed up to get the shot, and as Melanie posed, she felt another contraction brewing in her stomach. She could tell it was a bad one. Without the cushioning of her waters, the skull of her baby drove mercilessly down through her cervix, the pressure mounting by the minute. Hold the pose, she told herself, panting through it. Hold the pose, legs shaking, sweat pouring from under her arms, she couldn’t believe that the girl didn’t notice her violent trembling, didn’t notice the way her thighs spread and her knees bent slightly….

Fuck, she almost wanted to push.

Snap! The girl’s friend trotted back to them, smiling. “Thank you so much!”

Melanie’s smile was slipping. She tried to answer, and instead let out an acknowledging grunt. The contraction was releasing her now but she could barely remain standing with the immense pressure of the head dipping into her birth canal.

The girls receded back into the crowd, and Melanie heard Lea’s voice in her ear. Her hand went to her back, steadying. “You okay?”

“The baby’s trying to come,” Melanie whimpered back. “I can feel it.”

“Shit, Mel!” Lea hissed. “I told you!”

“Just—please, get me out of here.”

“Alright,” Lea breathed. “Okay.” Trying to look casual, Lea scanned the convention hall for exits. Even if they were to make it outside, Melanie thought, what then? Squat down and pop her baby out on the sidewalk? In the summer heat? No, they needed somewhere private, away from all the eyes and cameras. 

Heat flashes. She was shivering, legs swaying. The mass filling her canal was nauseating and the pressure was almost enough to collapse her. Lea yanked her shoulder suddenly and Melanie was jolted back into reality. “Restrooms! This way!”

The main hall had become quickly congested since they took the photo, and they were forced to double back and pick their way around the edges. Along the way Melanie suffered another contraction that had her stopping to brace herself against the wall. The pressure was blinding. It was as though the baby was filling every part of her, slowly, an all-encompassing descending fullness that was impossible to ignore or stave off.

“I gotta push,” she gasped to Lea before grunting and bending her knees.

“No! No way! We’re so close.”

“I’m trying not to…. Oh, god.” She tried to resist the urge. Her body was demanding that she bear down.

Some passerby called over to them. “Hey, is she okay?”

Lea sprang up. “Oh yeah, perfectly fine,” and Melanie recognized the nervous lie. “Just some cramping, you guys had better avoid that sushi truck outside.”

Would Zero Two just give up like this? Lose control so easily? Melanie shook her head. No, she wouldn’t, and neither would Melanie. With an almost superhuman effort, Melanie took her palms from the wall and straightened and tried to pinch her thighs as close together as they would go. The fullness peaked, stretching her wide from within. “Fuck!” She felt tears forming in her eyes.

She leaned heavily against Lea, blinking the tears from her eyes as she glanced up. “Oh no…. mm, the line is that long?!”

People were lined against the wall and crouched by outlets, plugged into phones as they waited. She couldn’t wait that long. Her body was already utterly fatigued from fighting her most primal feminine instincts. She couldn’t imagine undergoing even one more contraction without giving in to the need to birth.

She spun Lea and held her shoulders, trying to convey the impossibility of such a task. “Lea, please, there’s no way in hell I can last that long. Mmgh, it’s coming, I’m gonna have to push, I can’t not push.”

Lea raised a hand to cup Melanie’s cheek, her touch light and tender. “Oh, Mel. Just hold on to me, all right?”

They took their places in the abysmally long line, Melanie fling, bowlegged, and clinging onto Lea for support. When another contraction struck it arrived with violence, and immediately every other thought deserted Melanie’s head except for the need to push. She buried her face into Lea’s shoulder, hanging onto her for dear life, and planted her feet wide. Then she PUSHED, with a long, breathless groan.

“I’m pushinggg-mmmgh,” she sobbed in Lea’s ear as she bore down.

Lea rubbed the small of Melanie’s back in soothing circles. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

Every push shoved the baby further down, filling her birth canal more and more with its immense mass, and she couldn’t stop the descent, couldn’t even keep her thighs together any more, her legs permanently spread in preparation for the coming baby. Contractions wracked her belly; her womb clenched and seethed. With each one she was forced to stop and squat and bear down as subtly and silently as she could manage. It was all she could do to stop from releasing guttural roars as she pushed.

Twenty people down. Ten. Five. They were almost to the restrooms now, leaning against a vending machine near the doors. Unfortunately, Melanie just couldn’t hold it back. She and Lea had their back to the others, pretending to examine the vending machine for snacks when in reality, Melanie had both hands braced against the glass, pushing with all she had. Her powerful internal muscles thrust the baby down, and her tight groan sharpened the head shoved through her hips and began to fill her vagina. She fumbled between her legs with one hand, crying out at the sensation, and felt the slightest bulge in the leather at her crotch. The head was so close to emerging, the fullness was nearly unbearable, and it had her panting, open-mouthed, lolling her head even after the contraction had ended.

“Oh god, Mel,” Lea whispered, half in horror, half in awe. “I can see it! It’s starting to come out!”

“Can’t—” Melanie gasped. “Not, guh! I-it can’t come out yet!”

“Excuse me,” Someone behind them in line said. “I think the woman’s bathroom is free now.”

Lea ushered Melanie from her position against the machine; she could barely walk now, stuck at nearly a half-squat, toddling into the bathroom with the head trapped between her legs.

As Lea closed the door and flipped the lock, Melanie had already clamped her hands against her thighs and dropped into a deep squat, grunting the baby deeper into her bottom. The fabric at her crotch strained even more, and she could feel her lips distending outward, tautly enveloping the head but beginning to open. Her most intimate part, now being unrecognizably stretched. The burn had her panting in tiny, whimpering grunts, trying to hold back but failing altogether.

“Ohhhh,” she moaned. “OH. It burns, Lea! I’m giving birth, it’s coming, oh fuck, that HURTS.”

She doubled over with vigor, utterly consumed with pushing, with the desperate, overwhelming need to get this baby out of her. Her body suit stretched more and more, and the damp tent between her thighs grew until her lips were parted in a tight, fiery circle around the head, finally reaching full crown.

“Ah!” She gasped, and then Lea was by her side, cupping her face, murmuring into her ear how well she was doing, telling her, “I need to take this off, okay? Baby needs to come.”

“Yes, please, get it off!” Melanie pleaded. She wasn’t Zero Two anymore, wasn’t anyone right now except a birthing mother, giving into her natural instincts.

Lea circled around to her back, parting the pink hair of her wig to locate the zipper at her neck. She fiddled with it, struggling to fit it into the teeth. “C’mon, stupid thing!”

The next contraction was quickly taking hold. “Hurry!” Even as Melanie said this she was already settling into her squat again, readying herself to birth. 

The crown in her bodysuit was unforgiving, the fullness and pressure driving her nearly to her breaking point. She just needed the head out, then she could focus on getting the suit down. “I gotta push again!”

“Just—wait,” Lea commanded her, fingers scrabbling with the zipper. “Ugh, I knew it’d be too tight for you.”

Melanie was panting, shaking her head back and forth, trying to escape the pressure and urge to push. Then she suddenly growled, mind going blank, stars spiraling behind her eyelids as she squeezed them shut and bore down. The head shunted forward, only to meet the sudden resistance of the unyielding leather. Stretched to its limit, it wouldn’t permit the head to move any further out of her. She was stuck at a full-crown.

“Lea!” She shrieked. “Get it down!”

“Trying,” Lea muttered. “Hold on—got it!” The bodysuit parted down Melanie’s back, exposing her smooth, slick skin. She reached the end of the zipper, just above Melanie’s rear. “Mel, hon, you’re gonna have to step out.”

“No,” Melanie was already shaking her head. Every part of her was trembling. ”No fucking way.”

“The baby can’t come until you let it,” Lea said, stepping close and wrapping her arms around Melanie’s convulsing pregnant stomach.

“Mmgh,” Melanie moaned, and raised one leg from the suit draped around her waist, feeling her vaginal walls twitch and pulse around the head splitting her apart.

“One leg out, that’s it!”

Melanie shook loose her other pant leg, feeling her thighs brush the dripping head, then fell back against Lea, moaning, and then pushed with all her might. Her lips slipped around the head, then she shuddered as fluids spurted from her opening and it popped free.

“Oh my,” Lea said, reaching down between Melanie’s legs to hold it. “Oh, Mel, you did it…. you’re almost there.”

Mel couldn’t speak, could barely remember to breathe. She’d come here this morning to dress up, have fun, and meet fans. Now there was a baby coming out of her. Get it together, she told herself as she moaned uncontrollably, tossing her head as the shoulders rotated. Get it together and PUSH!

One more push, shoulders spreading her wide, opening throbbing around them, then— a rush; the baby slipped out into Lea’s waiting hands. Melanie sagged to the bathroom floor and Lea lowered with her, holding her in her arms. Melanie looked up at her as she took her baby and held it to her leaking chest. Her anime bangs were matted to her forehead, face flushed even behind her false blush, eye makeup stained and running. Lea smiled at her and she smiled back tiredly.

“You were beautiful,” Lea said.

Melanie glanced down to her chest. “I wonder what baby’s first cosplay will be.”

[angelpregdreams]

okay but holding my pussy a little bit open as the head is close to coming out, grunting as I stretch, oh my god

[gravid-transluna]

Commission for @shhhsecretsideblog, hope you enjoy just as much as I enjoyed writing this!

Final signing of divorce papers. He’d cheated with his secretary on a business trip, she threw him out and filed for divorce. Not long after she realised her period was late and after doing a test she discovered she was pregnant. She tried to hide it from him for as long as she could, but he eventually found out. She made it clear that he would have nothing to do with this child.

The divorce negotiations were messy, lots of drawn out arguments and back and forth with solicitors. It had taken months. She wanted it concluded by now but he was dragging his heels. To what end she didn’t know. But eventually they reached a resolution and he agreed to sign the papers, which was happening this afternoon. The only problem was, she’d gone into labour during the night.

Just You and Me, and No One Else

words: 3142

content: clothing birth, inconvenient birth, birth denial, fpreg

Celia wasn’t one to drag things out, neither in her corporate life or personal life, and certainly not in her romantic life. The divorce lawyer’s name was Mr. Einhardt, and he didn’t tolerate very much nonsense either. He was a sort of neutral party, tasked with settling legal matters amicably between the couple. Between this small thing they had in common, and the circumstances leading to Celia’s divorce with her husband Dave, Mr. Eindhart’s sympathies seemed to lie quite decisively with Celia. Cheating on her with his secretary, a young woman just barely out of college! So cliche it nearly bored Celia to tears. The problems had begun long before the discovery, but Celia had rehashed that story enough times by now.

Negotiations had been messy; fights, late-night arguments in the kitchen, pleading, door-slamming. Dave was acting like a child throughout the whole thing. Which was doubly unfortunate, as Celia had received a second shock after the cheating, staring at a test and two pink lines in the bathroom. She was pregnant. Nine months later, she was wedged in the office seat as Mr. Eindhart recounted estate laws with Dave.

Please, she had been praying for the last hour; please, just let it be over. Incessant questions from Dave. More often than not, about the baby. No, her baby. Celia would be damned if she let that cheating, childish scum get within a mile of her child.

Mr. Eindhart was speaking as patiently as possible, but at this point it had all become a soft drone for Celia. The last issue: she had gone into labor during the night. Regular contractions, tightening her midsection and flaring sharp in her lower back. Standing before the mirror in the light of the morning, she’d been able to see clearly just how much her bump had dropped, hanging low between her hips, stretched completely taut, a reddened torpedo, with not another inch of room for the baby. It had been enough of a chore to get dressed and ready and lug herself into Mr. Eindhart’s office every week. Laboring, it was a superhuman feat.

Her hips burned, jammed into the seat. They had widened over the course of her pregnancy, and now she barely fit into any chair available. This, combined with the massive belly sprawling in her lap whenever she sat down, made for even more discomfort.

“Ms. Greene?” Her maiden name. She saw Dave flinch slightly when Mr. Eindhart used it. “Are you alright? Pardon, but you look quite uncomfortable. Do you need some water?”

“No,” she sighed, brushing his concern away. “No, thank you. When you’re this pregnant, doing anything is uncomfortable.”

Dave was frowning at her. “You sure, hun?”

Celia scowled. She knew the feigned concern had only been prompted by Mr. Eindhart’s comment; nothing more than an excuse to use the word hun. “If you could cut it with the pet names, that would be nice.”

He rolled his eyes, tried to catch Mr. Eindhart’s eye: Women, right? A comment she’d heard frequently during her marriage, even more so with her so-called ‘pregnancy hormones,’ the ‘mood swings’ that were preventing her from thinking straight.

Today, they weren’t entirely unfounded. All she could think about was her belly, the sheet of muscle over her womb, rippling and contracting as she tried to cut Dave off from some long-winded procession of his victimhood. The baby inside, the head positioned right into her cervix, pressing with increasing urgency. She had to ignore her body for the time being. She had to remain calm and collected and—

“Listen,” Celia interrupted, leaning over her tight swell. “Could we please hurry things along?” —glaring at Dave— “We’ve been through these questions enough times, wouldn’t you say?”

“I just want to make sure we have all the information,” he protested, the slimeball. “To make the right choice.”

Celia was about to retort when she felt the familiar banding around her stomach, and clenched in on herself, riding out the waves of pain and pressure once again. She hoped that her gritted teeth and wrinkled brow could be attributed to her impatience.

Her baby squirmed, cramped in her full, brimming belly. She shifted again. Things were really ramping up. As the contraction receded, she thumbed through the pages of legal documents until she reached the last one, the blank line where their joint signatures would go, and stifled a huff of frustration. There were still at least forty pages?! This pressure was a bad sign, she knew. Soon, she’d barely be able to sit, the head felt dangerously low.

The minutes ticked by. Contraction after contraction. Her belly, hot like a furnace, wracked and misshapen with their clenching force.

“Jesus,” Celia muttered unconsciously under her breath. “The pressure….” Then she looked up to see Mr. Eindhart and Dave staring at her.

“Excuse me, my dear?” Mr. Eindhart said, head tilted politely.

Celia cleared her throat, straightened her back. “The pressure he’s been putting me through, lately. It’s, er, getting to be unbearable.”

Dave was shaking his head solemnly. “You can’t even imagine my feelings. You just can’t see the other side.”

“Oh, that’s rich!” Celia covered up her consternation with a sarcastic laugh.

Another fifteen minutes. Contractions about five minutes apart. Celia realized that she had to use the bathroom, and had to use it now. The pressure was beginning to force her legs apart, despite her efforts to keep them tightly pinched together. The weight, god, the heaviness. She felt fuller than ever, an all-encompassing fullness. It stood to reason, she thought, her bladder would be feeling the strain.

“Excuse me,” she said. “I need to use the restroom.” She painstakingly stood, unable to conceal a grunt at the weight of gravity on her sagged, bowed belly. Hoping they didn’t notice the slip of skin under her blouse that certainly hadn’t been there this morning, Celia waddled from the office and found the lady’s room.

On the toilet she suffered a contraction that had her hunched over her stomach, toes curling in her pantyhoes tights. Suddenly, eyes wide, mouth open, she felt a spike in the rising pressure. Then— a release. Liquid gushed from her crotch. Celia moaned loudly at the relief. Then she clamped her mouth shut. She wouldn’t have put it past Dave to wait for her outside the bathroom.

Panting, she rose shakily from the toilet and wiped her inner thighs and crotch. She knew her waters had broken, signaling the rapid advance of her labor.

“Please, little one,” Celia murmured. “Just a little longer. Just until it’s only you and me, no one else.”

Dave was looking at her suspiciously when she returned. Even with her effortful concealment, he’d spent enough time around her to know her more subtle forms of expression. She cleared her throat and smiled.

“Where were we?”

Mr. Eindhart smiled a bit absently as Celia dabbed at the sweat beading on her forehead. He shuffled his papers and continued. Soon another contraction was taking hold of Celia, and she stiffened, bracing herself. Still, she wasn’t quite prepared for the intensity, coming on even more severe without her bag of waters to cushion the skull. Her swollen mound flexed visibly beneath the desk. She set her jaw, her knuckles going pale as she gripped her seat. This time the pain was accompanied by the undeniable urge to push. She nearly gasped aloud. Fuck, she wanted to push. It was like nothing else she’d felt before, the deep, overwhelming desire to bear down as hard as she could against the pressure. She held her breath, counted, blinking quickly as she tried to distract herself from the urge. It only grew stronger, pounding through her body, washing over her like a compulsion.

Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t control her body entirely, and she could feel herself giving small pushes, each one shoving her baby further down through her birth canal. With some mercy the contraction began to ebb, and she floated back into the conversation at hand.

“....and, what if the kid had to list another parent as an emergency contact? That role would go to me, right?”

Celia tried to intercede as smoothly as she could, ignoring the tremble in her voice, the vicious wringing of her womb. “They’re going to have a godmother, and she’ll be listed as a secondary guardian.”

“That’s fine,” Mr. Eindhart said. “Spell her name for me, just in case?”

“Is it Shannon?” Dave asked. “It’s Shannon, isn’t it? I never liked her. A bitch, that’s what she was.”

“Mr. Gardner, I don’t tolerate that kind of language in my office. Another remark and you can go ahead and find a different representative.”

Celia flashed the elderly divorce lawyer a grateful smile before turning her attention back to the impatient baby now beginning to stretch her birth canal wide. She was giving birth at this desk and nobody knew except for her. She could do this.

A hard, clamping pain. She exhaled, suddenly breathless, though it seemed to her company that she was just huffing in annoyance at Dave’s theatrics. When the urge coursed through her, it was nearly impossible to deny.

Don’t push, she told herself. Belly gripping her midsection like a tight closed fist. Don’t push. Internal muscles squeezing around the baby. Don’t—

The need to push was dizzying. She couldn’t help it. Before she knew it, she was bearing down at the desk, thighs spread as far apart as they could manage in her seat. A flush spread to her cheeks. She pushed, and pushed, feeling the baby move downward toward her exit. She couldn’t stop, was barely even aware of her surroundings anymore. All that mattered was the baby coming out of her, the need to get it out, bear down on it with the single-mindedness of a birthing mother.

Her silent straining went unnoticed until she ended her push with a loud grunt. Suddenly there were two heads turned towards her.

“My dear, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Celia?” Dave furrowed his brow. “What kind of sound was that? Didn’t you just use the bathroom, like, thirty minutes ago.”

Exhausted, losing hope that she’d be able to hold this baby in until after the signing, Celia snapped at him. “They’ve been kicking up a damn storm this entire morning, and whose fault is that in the first place? You insist on dragging this out for as long as possible, with me ready to fucking pop” —no comment from Eindhart; he knew better than to lecture a heavily pregnant woman about her language— “so, please, can we just get this over with.”

The head was so big in her canal. The pressure was so bad. She was full to the brim, utterly stretched and gravid with the baby. She couldn’t think about anything else except the need to get it out.

“Yes, well—” blinking, Mr. Eindhart scrambled with the pages. “I suppose we can just skip over a couple of pages…. let’s see here, joint signature, page 87, please.”

“Hey!” Dave protested. “Now, wait a minute.”

Celia was picking up one of Mr. Eindhart’s elegant fountain pens…. Another contraction was coming on, she could feel it broiling in her belly…. every muscle tensing up at once, working with the singular effort to expel her baby…. raising her trembling hand to the page….

To Dave and their lawyer, it may have looked like she had gone stock-still. Really though, she was pushing. Her knuckles shone pale around the pen. She was biting her lip so hard she thought she might draw blood. The baby was moving between her legs, she could feel it. She could have sobbed. The massive head was sliding through her hips, down, down, down towards her exit. She was pushing it out.

Dave took her sudden pause as hesitation. “Oh, honey,” he said. “Look at you! Overcome with emotion, I knew it was just a charade. It’s okay. We don’t have to go through with this.”

The fullness was very low now. A new sensation. The baby was in her vagina! Her labia had begun to bulge grotesquely; the head, of course, was huge. With a laborious effort, Celia scrawled a hasty, spidery signature onto the page. The final step. Done.

She slumped in her chair, push releasing, and her belly sank as her womb muscles relaxed. Her crotch throbbed. The baby’s head was right there, sitting heavily at her entrance, and it felt as if she was perched atop a bowling ball, hips nearly splitting open with the pressure.

Dave looked at the signature with despair. Mr. Eindhart cleared his throat, eyeing him like he suspected Dave might just grab the papers and bolt with them. Instead, he reached for a pen and, even more slowly than Celia had in the throes of giving birth, signed his big, sloppy signature.

“All right,” Mr. Eindhart said, tucking the papers into a folder. “That should be the last of the proceedings!”

Before Celia could react, Dave had stormed from the room. The door swung violently on its hinges.

She knew that she should leave as soon as possible, but getting up from her seat was a monumental task. Still, she struggled valiantly to her feet, containing a scream behind sealed lips as gravity thrust the head further into her nether regions, a wet tent forming in her underwear. She thanked the heavens that she had worn a skirt today. The body, it seemed, was slipping between her hips now, forcing the head down even more. Her gait was less a waddle at this point and more a bowlegged half-squat. She bore the pain and pressure and looked Mr. Eindhart in the eye, smiling as she shook his hand.

“Thank, mm, you. For everything.”

“Please, dear. Get home, get some rest.”

She nodded, unable to speak anymore. The head, god. She was so close to crowning. It was about to come out, she could feel it. She shuffled indelicately from Mr. Eindhart’s office. ‘Getting home’ was not a feasible goal. Celia didn’t even know if she could make it to the lady’s room in time, but she had to try. She couldn’t possibly give birth in these dirty carpeted corridors! One hand following the wall, knees barely supporting herself. She was trailing birthing fluid, leaking through her panties.

Whenever a contraction struck (and they were coming on without pause or respite now) she was forced to stop and squat, grunting the baby further into her nether regions. With every push her lips bulged more and more into the fabric of her underwear, burning with the obscene stretch. Slowly, the head parted them open, and she tried to pant through a contraction, drawing from some intuition that she needed to go slow and let herself stretch, her vagina straining to accommodate the huge head. Instead she loosed a guttural groan, bearing down again until her lips had unfurled into a tight oval. She was limping now, one hand cupped between her thighs as she walked.

As she rounded the hall, the restroom came into view. Almost there, Celia told herself. Just a couple more steps. Dread poured over her as a contraction began to brew in her belly. Oh no— Celia braced herself, steadying her hands against the wall in preparation.

Just then, she heard a shout. “Celia!” Dave had been waiting at the end of the hall, and now he jogged to catch up to her. “Shit, Dave!” Celia hissed as her birth canal wrung her from the inside out. “Fu-u-uck, what could you possibly—urgh! want?!”

Dave caught her arm, too involved in his own self-pity to notice Celia’s wide half-squat, the pinching of her face, the dribbles of liquid from between her spread thighs.

“Just hear me out, okay?” He was upset. His bottom lip quivered like a petulant child’s. He seemed, absurdly, betrayed. “You love me. I know you love me, and that baby is mine. I’m its father, I have a right to meet it.”

Celia stared at him, flabbergasted, the baby crowning into her panties momentarily forgotten. Suddenly she squatted down and bellowed loudly. “OOOOOHHHH!!”

Dave backed away in fear.

“Listennn-mmmfgh!” Celia groaned as she bore down furiously. “Grrrruh! Ugh, ah! I have had it up to here with you. Fuuuuck, I’m only gonna say this one time.” Despite her deep squat, she suddenly seemed to tower over him, red-faced with fury and the exertion of birth.

“Get out of our lives.”

Dave glanced at her in consternation, then scurried down the hall and hopefully out of her life for good.

Celia’s legs finally gave out and she dropped to her knees, unable to withstand the searing pain and pressure spreading her wide open and filling her so completely, it was as if there was no room for anything else anymore; no Dave, no legal documents or income discussions, not even herself or her identity as anything but a mother. Everything was focused on the baby coming out of her, crowning her most sensitive, private region. She gripped her thighs and bore down. Then she pushed her hips back, opening them, and rested her heavy body on her hands and knees. An animalistic urgency coursed through her. This primal position felt good, felt right. This was what she needed to be doing. Pushing, without any other concerns.

Her skirt rode up, exposing the apex of her thighs, her sodden bulging underwear, soaked fabric revealing what was happening behind it. The head slipped further out. Her lips formed a burning circle. Celia’s groans tightened and rose in pitch and she strained, the head unmoving as a boulder for a nerve-wracking second. A full-body shudder. Celia’s eyes rolled back in her head as she pressed her chest to the floor and sloped her rear end into the air, pushing with all she had.

The head burst free, and fluids spattered the hallway wall behind her, soaking the carpet. Celia gasped and panted, but the ordeal wasn’t over yet.

“O-okay, okay, baby.” The shoulders were rotating, she could feel the body turning inside her. The entire head hung from her opening and sagged her panties. “Th-this is iiiittttt-ooooooh!” With one last giant push, the body slid out and a river of fluids gushed freely behind.

Celia sat up on her haunches, scrambling between her tights and underwear with the instinctual desperation of a mother, searching frantically, needing to hold her baby, needing the touch-contact. She brought it from under her skirt to her chest, and heard a gurgling cry. A beautiful girl! Nothing like her father, everything like her mother. Tears streamed from Celia’s eyes and dripped down her nose and cheeks.

“Oh, look at you! Look at you!” She held her to her warm heart. “It’s okay. It’s just us. Just you and me, and no one else.”