Hello! Just a little intro post to get this blog started.
As my bio says, I've got a raging kink for birth and pregnancy. I especially like big, overdue bellies, difficult births, and birth denial. My tastes can veer a bit dark into things like non-con, forced impregnation, and the more physically violent forms of denial. I'm into fpreg, mpreg, nbpreg, really gender does not matter much to me. Also very into ovapos, egg laying, and pretty much any kind of xeno/monster impregnation.
aggressively pro trans and pro choice
I'm down to chat about any of these things but I have a few boundaries:
I don't role play, sorry just not into it
I'll be sticking to just talking with folks through asks as I've found dming with people can be a bit overwhelming for me
Nothing about me being the person who is pregnant
I'm not really into videos or pics of real life births. All of this exists pretty firmly in the land of fantasy for me
Hard limits include scat, genital mutilation, death or permanent injury of the person giving birth or the baby, and detrans/misgendering kink
All my original writing can be found under the tag #stuck writes
Imagining permapreg where the baby just never stops growing, it's been 3 years now and that 8lb bundle of joy you were expecting has turned into a 50lb boulder in your stomach, but you still coo and rub your belly "expecting it any day now", in complete denial of your situation. It would be even worse with braxton hicks contractions to give you some sort of false hope that you can still give birth at some point, just for them to fade and leave you disheveled and needy
I like the idea of perma preg while in labor >:) Trying to push out your massive baby but it just wont come out while you endure endless contractions. Eventually your body gives up from exhaustion and the contractions weaken for a few days, maybe weeks if you're lucky, but they always come back as your body constantly tries and fails to give birth
We’re on an overnight flight when I tell you not to push. The other passengers are sleeping soundly, and besides, there’s only two hours left. It would be so rude to wake them, and you’d hate to have your baby here, wouldn’t you?
Besides, the seat was much too narrow for you to part your knees in the slightest, and your seatbelt pinned your aching hips in place. Your overfull womb was forced to rest upon your lap, occupying every available inch of space when it normally would have demanded your legs to part to accommodate. It made it hard to breathe. A contraction overtook you like a wave, your gravid stomach forcing inward, and you took the extra inch of room in the seatbelt to lean back, desperate to relieve even a fraction of the pressure between your legs. The baby’s head was all too eager to take the opportunity to grind down fiercely, causing friction in your most sensitive areas while you squirmed.
You gasped when the contraction released, and fought to catch your breath, but it still felt as if there with a relentless bowling ball trying to escape you, spreading you wider than you could afford to move. There’s a slight bit of turbulence, bouncing you and your stretching lips against the seat, causing you to whimper and squirm against the pressure, wordlessly pleading for anything but this to be happening. The seatbelt light dings above, and I look at you, a finger to my lips while I advise your silence. My hands find your seatbelt and tighten it ever so slightly. We wouldn’t anything happening to you.
I grip the armrests, knuckles turning white, as you tighten my seatbelt over my full and contracting belly. Your hand moves over the swell, caressing it fondly, feeling the rock solid muscles beneath your palm. You’re calm, relaxed, presenting a casual appearance of just an average expectant couple on a journey. There isn’t a hint of worry or apprehension in your eyes. If anything it’s enjoyment.
As the contraction peaks I feel the head of our baby shifting lower, filling the bowl of my pelvis with the immeasurable weight of impending life. My legs spring apart automatically around it, my knee crashing into yours while the other hit the wall of the aeroplane beneath the window.
“Ohhhhh god…. It’s so low babe… I don’t… I don’t know if it’s going to w-wait two more h-hours.” I mumble as I tilt my head on your shoulder, panting profusely.
“The seatbelt signs are on darling, we can’t move you now. It’s not safe.” You crooned in my ear. One hand rested on my belly while the other ran your fingers through my hair in a soft comforting manner.
“I feel… like I’m gonna b-burst…. There’s so much pressure….ughhh…” I grunted, the contraction peaking, and with it came the gush of fluids from my waters breaking. My legs were soaking, amniotic fluid now cascading from the seat onto our hand-luggage on the floor.
“Oh dear.” You tutted, and then you moved my thighs together to hide the obvious sight of my labouring being visible to any steward that may walk by. Taking the airline blanket we were given at the start of our long haul journey you covered my legs and tucked the rough material beneath my thighs - keeping them trapped together.
“Mmmhh…no…I can’t…” I huffed out. I swallowed down the moan in my throat that was threatening to escape, scrunching my eyes and panting heavily.
“Yes you can darling.” Your tone was smooth as silk but there was an unfamiliar glint in your eyes. “You don’t want to have this baby here… not in front of all these people.”
Your lips kissed my cheek, absorbing the tears than silently rolled down my face. The baby was so damn low I could feel my pelvis opening up around the large head that was sinking towards the birth canal. Without my waters the cushioning had been replaced by the harsh immeasurable solid shape of our child, heavy and oh so ready to be born.
The screen in front of me showed the map, the little icon of our plane mid-way over the vast expanse of ocean. My chest heaved with each breath, my eyes zeroed in on that little cartoon aeroplane, willing it to travel across the screen faster.
I lasted through two more contractions before my ability to hold it in completely evaporated. Beneath the blanket my knees parted and my hips slumped in the chair, moving purely on instinct. I gasped lungs full of air, and then I pushed. Desperate and primal I focused all my strength right down between my legs, bearing down with a low rumbling grunting sound.
“Ahem… no pushing, remember?” You tutted, pressing my thighs back together and pulling me to sit up straight in the chair.
The contraction was a force that could not be bargained with, so much pressure distilled into such a small space that suddenly nothing was left within him but a blind, instinctive need to push. He reared back to grab the counter lip with his other hand, dropped his chin to his chest, and finally, finally did what his body had been screaming at him to do: he pushed.
Read the rest of Dave’s twin birth story here!
Gonna try to add the uncensored version in the reblogs 👁️
Getting knotted means you are stuck cockwarming until the one you tied to thinks its been enough time for you to get pregnant and thats pretty hot if you think about it.
Boy full of slime that works like oobleck, all soft and jiggly in his tight tum, but as soon as he tries to push is out it hardens, leaving him stuck stuffed
- @distended-domes
Is that the official name of that stuff?? I had no idea lmao :0
It does make a really good consistency for slime creatures... The whole time he's pregnant with them they slosh around his belly, but when he goes into labor and the contractions hit, he tries to push and the slime turns hard as stone. Confused and in pain, he doesn't realize that the pressure of him pushing is making the slimes activate their defense mechanism so he keeps trying to push having no idea that it's actually whats preventing the slimes from coming out. He thought his labor would be easy with how soft and squishy his tummy was for the whole pregnancy, but now his swollen belly is rock hard and feels like he has one giant boulder sitting in his gut.
After hours of painful labor, he manages to push the mass down far enough to start stretching his hole. The hardened slime stretches him wider and wider until his flesh just cant stretch anymore, pulled taut around the giant ball of slime. He howls and shrieks in pain, kicking and thrashing wildly as he desperately tries to push the mass out, but it's far to big to fit through his narrow hips and no amount of squeezing or shoving is going to make it budge. He tries anything while he sobs and begs the slime to come out, clawing at his swollen belly and trying to push it down with his hands, even trying to reach down and stretch his hole around the mass, but nothing he does can force it through.
The poor boy labors fruitlessly for what feels forever, stuck crowning around only the tip of the hardened slime boulder, until he becomes completely exhausted. With his mind fogged with pain, his body finally shows mercy and he blacks out, falling limp on the ground. It's then and only then when his muscles barely have the strength to contract anymore do the slimes finally soften enough to slowly ooze their way out of his body
Okay so 1. Your blog is hot and 2. Trans guys getting impregnated to look more like bears
An easy idea. Unknowingly admiring a bear hairy with fat pecs. Huge belly- round and looks heavy too. Being a perv and him asking you if you wanna feel. So you do- only to freeze when something smacks against your palm from inside his belly. Slowly looking back up to find his eyes before he grins and asks whats wrong? You were so keen on calling him "daddy" weren't you? Just make sure you put more emphasis on it this time... 🐻
Thinking about a middle-aged trucker who thought there wouldn’t be any consequences for pressing his fat pussy to every truck stop glory hole he came across.
For months, he’s 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 it’s 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 driver’s 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 can’t 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 whatever’s stretching him, and his voice pitches into panicked wheezing as he realizes it’s stuck there, feeling like it’s 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 it’s not in his ass, that means it’s in his pussy. But that can’t be. Because that would mean…
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.
“No, no, no way, no, nonono…” 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.
“Fuck, no, I can’t, no, no—“ Panic wets his eyes. He can’t have a baby, for fuck’s sake, he doesn’t want this, he’s not ready to be a daddy, he can’t— “AUGH!”
The next contraction comes—because that’s what they’ve been all along, how could he be so stupid?—and he roars behind his teeth as he fights the urge to push. But it’s too late. He feels his cunt lips spread, the baby’s 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, that’s worse! He groans and starts to sob, letting out a choked, delirious laugh as the spasming of his weeping makes the baby’s 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 he’s 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.
“NO!!!” he screams, clawing at his birth-soiled sheets. “No, no, god, please, no, NO!!”
His chest hitches, and he lies there panicking, envisioning hours of excruciating pain as the head stretches him over and over, never fully leaving. He’s dizzy and panting when the next contraction hits, and barley has the presence of mind to try to push. But he doesn’t 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 doesn’t 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. There’s 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.
“Oh, fuck, okay—hnng!” 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 head— then he stops contracting, and the baby stops moving.
“AUGH! NNNGHGH— NNNOOOOO!” 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 he’s 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. It’s huge, magnitudes larger than anything he’s 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 more— 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, he’s never gonna spread his legs for anyone again, not that anyone will want his pussy once it’s 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 he’s 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. It’s only when his feels the bulk inching deeper into his birth canal and the burn reducing around the crown that he realizes his mistake.
“No, no, no, fuck, fuck, no!!” he shrieks, shoving himself up onto his hands, but it’s 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. “Fuuuuuuck,” 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 driver’s 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.
“Oh— NO—!!” There’s 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 there’s still resistance, so maybe not— 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 death—
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 he’s 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.
“Oh,” he sobs. “Oh, holy fuck.”
He’s giving birth. He’s having a baby. Its shoulders still press like an anvil behind his cunt, but the head is out, it’s there, half an hour ago he had no idea he was even pregnant and now he’s cupping some stranger’s baby between his legs.
“Oh my god, oh my god,” 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 child’s safety and more for being spared another complication. He closes his eyes and tries to use the moment of rest for all it’s worth.
The reprieve isn’t all it’s 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.
“Oh, fuck, not yet, no,” he whimpers, but there’s 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 he’s 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.
“Okay, almost, almost there,” he pants. “Just gotta get it out, gotta get it out of me…”
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. “Almost,” he mumbles. “Soon…”
And it is soon. He contracts, and pushes, and pushes—
And with a final wail, he pops the baby’s 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.
“Holy shit,” he whispers. “Holy fuck.”
He doesn’t 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.
bottom who's so deep into birth panic that they don't even realize that resisting will only make it worse. they're trying so hard not to push, keeping their legs closed, even sitting down to try to prevent the baby from coming out. they're sobbing that it's too big and they know it won't fit, they know they can't handle it. not even understanding that they're only prolonging their own agony.
one thing that turns me on about birth is how it makes people act like animals. they can be the most stoic, or quiet, or shy person but as soon as that baby starts to fill their pelvis its screaming, crying, begging. theyd do anything to get it out like twist themselves into weird positions or rip their legs open uncaring of whoever is there to witness their pussy and ass bulge open wide. its so hot.
Sem is a popular model known for his trademark cuteness and sweet, bubbly energy! One day he's propositioned by a mysterious group for a large amount of money to stay in their estate for a few days just to fuck, and what they conveniently leave out is that they're part of an alien insectoid race disguised as humans to live on Earth! And they wanted Sem to breed with.
The pregnancies last a long time, upwards of multiple years, and are slow and taxing. But that gives Sem's body to acclimate to the alien bodies inside him, and he's developed a strong affection for his breeding body.
Very belatedly went through most of my asks. There are two longer writing prompts from a while ago that I may eventually come back to but can't finish rn. Sorry to everyone that I've been so inactive here. Honestly I will likely continue to not be online all that often. Life continues to happen and my creative hornyness fluctuates wildly. I will pop in from time to time though and maybe even drop some more horrible filth on you :)
girl forced to go adventuring to find a rare teleportation scroll because she accidentally got bred by a satyr and now ahe cant stretch enough to get the babys horns out, just stuck hopelessly pregnant with a cute little crown
ooh horns being the thing that gets the baby stuck is extra tough because they would probably stop the baby from being pushed back in too. So she's just stuck trying fruitlessly to push out those horns. I she can manage to get around maybe she'll eventually find that scroll and be able to teleport the damn baby outta there. But with a baby stuck between her legs that will be quite a feat.
