I’m StuffedCauldron, she/they, 30s. I’m into anything involving big bellies: weight gain, pregnancy, berry transformation, you name it. I like magical and sci-fi elements in these kinks. Witches fattening up their victims with spells? Spaceships that have rogue AIs that hyperpreg their crew? Berry and hucow farms? Yes please.
This blog is 18+. I’m a writer and I hope to post stories and snippets here.
Please don’t DM me if you’re under 21. Otherwise, asks and DMs are welcome, though I only check tumbr now and then, so I might take a while to reply.
Yes, I am a witch who did kidnap people to fatten them up. But some of the details were misconstrued and I want to set the record straight!
They were NOT children, they were a newlywed couple who got lost on the way to their honeymoon. They were so relieved to find my cabin tucked away in the dark woods, the poor dears. Of course I welcomed them inside and insisted they stay the night. I told them I'd feed them dinner and then send them on the correct path to the city in the morning.
I was planning on fattening the wife. Turn her into a dairy cow, you know? My last cow had all but dried up, and I needed milk for potions, not to mention my coffee. But when I sat them down to dinner and told them to dig in, the greedy appetite of the husband amused me so much I changed my plans. I would force the wife to become my servant and farmhand, and the husband would become my new cow, over-fed, calving, and heavy with milk.
It took some time, of course! I put the husband in a cage and used some mild magic to make the food I served him irresistible. He really was a cow at heart, though, and it didn't take much to have him gorging himself all day.
The wife tried to fight, and run for help, but my magic was too strong for her. The forest around here is loyal to me, and it refused to show her the road. Every time she fled she'd end up back at my door a few days later, cold and hungry. Every time I welcomed her back and served her tea by the fireplace. Every time her eyes would widen as she caught sight of her husband, visibly plumper though it had only been a few days.
She eventually gave up.
Now the three of us are happy! The husband is wonderfully fat and I no longer keep him in the cage. Right now he's sitting in a wide rocking chair on the porch, rubbing his belly. Maybe he's rubbing it because the babies are kicking up a storm, or maybe it's because I just served him a whole pie and he's feeling the pressure. I'm so proud of how round and swollen he is! Constant feeding does wonders. His own body is plumping and softening every day, and his brood is ripening nicely.
And the milk? The milk is lovely. It's the wife's job to milk him, and she's gotten really good at it. She hardly ever cries as she lifts his heavy breasts and squeezes his soft tits over a bucket. He always flushes red when she milks him, though. Huffs and groans and turns his head away. I'm not sure if he's aroused or ashamed. Maybe it's both. He forgets it all when I bring him more food, though. He's a good cow like that.
His babies are getting enormous. I'm not entirely sure what they are, as the insemination spell I used was a bit smudged. Calving season will be interesting!
Well, the wife just called for me. I have her baking more pies, and she says she needs help with the oven. It's a simple oven, so I have no clue what she needs help with, but there's always something wrong, isn't there? Anyway, I'm glad I was able to clear some things up!
I catch myself against the pole with a sharp breath, both hands gripping the cold metal while my belly drags heavily forward beneath the thick pullover I'm wearing. The movement makes my babies shift all at once inside me. Dense rolling pressure under impossibly stretched skin, bodies pressing against bodies, nowhere left for them to go.
I grab the pole hard enough that my wrist aches.
My pullover has ridden up almost to the curve of my navel again.
I yank it down instantly, heart pounding, but the fabric only clings tighter across the enormous shape underneath. There's no disguising it anymore. The sweater outlines everything - the impossible roundness, the stretched-tight mass, even the uneven movements shifting beneath my skin.
I can feel people noticing.
I keep my head down.
Please don't look at me.
Another painful roll moves through my belly. One baby drags heavily across my side while another pushes low enough to make my breath catch. The pressure inside me is unbearable now, packed so tightly that every movement feels trapped beneath my skin.
My whole stomach visibly ripples.
I clamp a hand under my belly, rubbing the sensitive skin under my sweater like I can calm them, calm myself, calm the awful pressure dragging lower and lower inside me.
God, I'm so full.
Too full. Too swollen. Too obvious.
The train windows throw my reflection back at me in dark smears between station lights: flushed face, hunched shoulders, both hands cradling a belly so huge it dominates the rest of my body completely. I look indecent. Like something private exposed under fluorescent lights.
A contraction starts low in my back.
Fuck.
The tightness spreads through my abdomen with brutal force, pulling my stomach hard and high until it becomes almost perfectly round beneath the sweater. I gasp softly and lean into the pole before I can stop myself.
Please not now.
The babies react immediately.
They're squirming inside of me during the contraction, heavy movement trapped inside the rigid tightness of my body. One presses outward so sharply near my ribs that I actually see the bulge through the wool.
Someone nearby notices. I hear the sharp inhale.
Humiliation crashes through me so hard my eyes sting.
I rub my belly faster now, desperate circles beneath the strained underside, trying to ease the crushing downward pressure between my small hips. My legs are trembling. I can feel how low they are now - all that weight pressing into my pelvis with terrifying insistence.
I just need to make it home. I just need to hold them in.
Then suddenly there's a body behind me. A man.
Too close.
Before I can move, a big hand slides around my side and cups the underside of my pulsing belly.
I freeze in horror.
His palm spreads beneath the huge weight almost possessively, fingers pressing deep into the oversensitive underside where I've been rubbing myself raw for weeks trying to relieve the strain.
“Oh wow,” he says quietly behind me. “You're ready to pop, hm? ”
Heat floods my entire face.
I try to pull away instinctively, but another contraction hits at the exact same moment and my body folds helplessly instead, a broken sound escaping my throat.
His hand tightens.
“There you go,” he murmurs. “You're so ripe.”
My belly clenches rock hard beneath both our hands.
The babies shove violently during the contraction, trapped movement rolling visibly across the front of my stomach. My pullover lifts higher again as I arch involuntarily, exposing the full strained curve of my belly to everyone nearby.
I hear someone whisper.
I want to cry.
But the man behind me doesn't move away.
His other hand settles over the front of my aching stomach, broad palm spread over the tightest part like he's testing the firmness of it. Then he starts rubbing slowly downward over the curve while I stand there shaking against the pole, whimpering quietly.
“Easy,” he says near my ear. “Everyone's noticing. ”
I can barely breathe from shame.
His hands are everywhere now - under the belly, across the front, massaging the tight stretched skin while strangers pretend not to stare. My body betrays me completely by responding to the relief. The upward support eases the dragging agony in my back enough that my knees nearly buckle.
“Oh my God,” I whisper before I can stop myself.
He chuckles softly behind me.
“They're really lively.”
And they are.
The babies roll heavily beneath his hands as though reacting to the pressure. One pushes outward in a slow hard sweep across the front of my stomach, visibly distorting the sweater. Another drives down low enough to make me gasp and widen my legs for balance.
I feel overwhelmed. Animalistic. Insane.
The man keeps rubbing my belly like it belongs to him now.
“So round,” he murmurs. “Must be ready to burst.”
The words hit me like a slap.
Because that's exactly how I feel.
My stomach feels stretched beyond endurance, skin tight and aching over too much life packed inside me. Every contraction squeezes the babies downward harder, and every movement inside me feels lower now, heavier, unbearably urgent.
I'm breathing too fast.
The train rocks again and I clutch the pole desperately while his hands continue roaming over the massive curve of my belly in full view of everyone.
Summary: A man forces a woman to get pregnant and holds her captive, pulling her from her bright future at her dream job and turning her into his personal baby factory. Dark content; dead dove, do not eat.
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A young woman landed her dream job right out of college, and her future looked so bright. She felt like nothing could go wrong... but someone else had other plans for her.
They were in school together, and he'd fantasized about her constantly. They spoke to each other often enough, but were more casual friends than anything else. He had heard her talking about her plans for the future, and had to stop himself from grinning when she did. He had a much better future in mind for her: she would make the perfect baby factory.
Shortly before she got her new job, she celebrated with some classmates at the bar, with him included. This was the opportunity he needed, and at the perfect time for it. He even volunteered to be the designated driver, and everyone was so grateful for the offer. He didn't focus on her too much during the night, spending equal times with everyone, so nothing would look suspicious. All he did was occasionally buy her another drink, to congratulate her on her success.
Everyone else was dropped off first, all of them too drunk to notice that he should have dropped her off already. He gave her a bottle of water loaded with enough sedatives to keep her unconscious well into the next day, and of course she drank it all without a second thought. By the time he reached her apartment, she was out cold, and he carried her inside.
All he had to do then was cum inside of her, sliding his cock into her pussy while she slept peacefully, with no idea he was ruining her future at that very moment. He didn't bother trying to last, and he came inside of her quickly, fertilizing her waiting womb. Just like that, and she was impregnated, and she would have no idea until it was much too late.
Weeks went by, and five months later, she couldn't dismiss the huge bulge of her belly anymore. Up until then, she thought she was gaining weight. Stress from her new job, maybe, but then it started moving. She'd been feeling flutters, but there was no reason to think anything of it until then, when small bulges began pushing out from under her skin. She was mortified, lightheaded from the shock and encroaching terror. How could this happen? She hadn't been with anyone in so long, there was just no way.
A doctor confirmed what she already knew, but worse, he told her that she was too far along to terminate. Back at home, she cried on her couch for hours.
He'd been watching her, waiting for the right time, and that was the moment he'd been waiting for. He showed up at her door, not wanting to leave behind evidence through texts, and it was easy to get invited in, and just as easy to get her into his car and to drink the water he gave her.
When she woke up, she found herself in a dimly lit basement, finding no comfort in the fact that she was at least in a bed. Her clothes had been changed into some kind of old fashioned white nightgown, and despite the loose fabric, the way it hung on her made her pregnant belly obvious. After looking around, she realized that she was locked in.
He came in not much later, sitting beside her on the bed and rubbing her growing belly while he told her all about everything he'd done to secure her future. She was horrified and disgusted, terrified that she would be stuck there forever, like he said she would be. He told her that she would be his personal baby factory, pumping out babies for him until she was too old to conceive.
The only relief she found was that he didn't fuck her, apparently only interested in that for the purpose of making her pregnant, but he still touched her all of the time. He'd massage her swollen tits and rub and press her belly, encouraging the activity inside. He would open her nightgown to expose her breasts, with their big, brown areolae and thick nursing nipples, telling her that he'd help her prepare to breastfeed before latching. There was no milk, not at first, but the regular stimulation with the hormones made her start producing early, and he immediately made regular meals of her breast milk. Soon enough, she was producing so much that she leaked if she went more than half an hour without being drained. She couldn't decide if it was more humiliating when she was forced to nurse him, or when he hooked her up to the automated pumps and called her his cow.
He commented on every aspect of her changing body at any given chance. His hands would squeeze her udders while he talked about how nicely her teats were developing, and how well she'd be able to feed all of the babies she'd produce for him over the coming years. He would rub her rape-bred belly, complimenting her for growing so full with his litter, and how strong and active they were. It became routine for him to remark on how perfect she was for this, how she made such an ideal baby blimp that it was undeniable this was her destiny all along. All that wasted time and effort in school when she should have been there, pumping out babies.
Her due date came and went, and while she didn't really know that for sure, she felt overdue. Her massive, unwanted mommy belly was tight, shiny, and covered in stretch marks, completely overburdened by the brood kicking inside. She was so weighed down by the babies she was forced to carry, it was a struggle just to sit up. The litter gestating inside of her transformed her completely into a mommy, fat, heavy, and round with life and milk. She was no longer a woman with an impressive career and a bright future. Instead, she had been reduced to nothing more than a swelling womb. Now, she was just pregnant.
Eventually, labor did start, and he was there to enjoy every minute of it. He made her spread her legs so he could check her progress, not bothering to warm his hands or take any steps to help her relax. The babies were coming fast, to her relief, but that wasn't what he wanted. When her water broke and she began to push, he held his hand over her bulging lips, keeping the baby in place. He wanted her like this for a while longer, and nursing from her overflowing mommy tits while she cried and went from begging not to have to give birth to begging to push was a fantasy come true.
Finally, he let her crown, but only so he could push it back in as far as he could. She screamed and clutched her contracting belly, desperate to have these babies out of her. The brood she carried continued to squirm all through the birth, and she was overwhelmed by the feeling of it and him suckling while preventing the baby from coming out.
It was hours before he let her have the baby, and the sound of it crying turned her stomach. He told her to get used to the sound and everything she was feeling. This was going to be the rest of her life. She screamed, then, shaking her head as the second baby barreled through her pelvis, indifferent to its mother's predicament.
party of adventurers have to get through a mountain passage where a big monster lives. it agrees to let them through as long as they offer one person to be its dinner. instead of outright refusing or even arguing amongst themselves, they immediately decide on the fat guy of the party as the best sacrifice and fuck off. the monster almost feels bad for him, he does look really juicy though...
A king who likes to watch his royal taster do his job. "Try a bite from the left side of the plate. Now the right side. Now the middle--there could be poison only in the middle, after all."
The poor man has ballooned, and the king loves it. He insists that the man also tests his advisor's plates, and his guest's plates.
"My Lord, I'm too full," the man pleads. He's tested a dozen plates, seated next to the king at a banquet table. The king places his hand on the man's round, taught belly, and prods it, as if examining the meat on a fat hog.
"You are not too full," The king decides. "But I will grant you a short respite."
"Thank you, My Lord," The Taster manages between labored breaths.
The king smiles benevolently and squeezes a handful of belly, enjoying the way it makes the man grunt and moan. "You will need to make some room for the main course. We're having fattened goose, and you will need to test a great amount." He pats the gut. "I do love a fattened goose."
Comms are currently OPEN! DM me to discuss details, message me on discord (username nightshadedumplings), or email me at [email protected] (but please send a DM or ask or something to let me know, since I don't really check this email), after reading everything in this post. Buying a commission from me means you're guaranteed to get your story written, you'll get your content much faster than if you sent in a request, and you'll get exactly what you asked for! My likes and limits for commissions will be listed at the bottom of this post. All stories should be pregnancy focused, but other additional kinks are welcome, too. Lactation must also be included.
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1000 words: $35
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If I go over your requested length of my own volition, that will NOT affect your price. If I need to go over the initial agreed-upon word count because you requested extra details or another scene, or your request requires more writing than the tier you requested, that will bump you up to the next pricing tier. I may charge for anything that might take me additional time, but I'll discuss this with you beforehand. Word counts are an approximation.
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Limits: heavy misogyny, detrans, ageplay, underage, raceplay, non-vaginal birth, and scat. I may deny other kinks or types of content not listed. Everything will be discussed and agreed upon BEFORE payment is sent.
Likes and specialties: pregnancy, weight gain, lactation, breastfeeding, stuffing, feederism, labor, birth, hyperpregnancy, monsterfucking and monsterpreg, rapid growth, sci-fi, and horror. I'm willing to do much, much more, so feel free to ask!
A fraternity where a dumb dare leads to one guy taking an experimental fertility drug stolen from a science lab. He thinks it's funny that the other guys are too chickenshit to take it. He thinks nothing will happen.
But that night he wakes all his housemates up, flushed and desperate and begging his bros to breed him. Some of the guys are eager to fuck him, don't need to be asked twice. But even the guys who never would... well, they find their senses clouded. It's like a compulsion. Dare Taker drapes himself over the arm of a couch and the frat takes turns.
He starts showing within weeks, and very soon he's sporting a fertile round belly. There's no point in denying that he's pregnant with the frat's babies.
As he swells he's treated less and less like one of the bros and more like a commodity. They talk about him like he's the frat's kitchen table or coffee maker. An object doing its job. He's their baby maker.
He stops going to class and going outside, so he gains weight quickly. He's hardly recognizable as the young man he was a few months ago. His frat helps him eat and bathe and dress. They touch him without asking, and use him freely when they get horny.
When his flabby pecs start lactating, the guys add milking him as a chore on their chore roster.
It's humiliating that he can be watching a movie in the frat den, trying to distract himself from his straining, squirming belly, and one of his bros just sits down next to him, lifts up his shirt, and starts nursing from his heavy breast. It's even more humiliating that Dare Taker can't help moaning and grunting at how good it feels.
After drinking his fill the bro plays a bit with Dare Taker's belly. "How many of these are mine?" he wonders. "I remember coming in you three times that night. It's amazing that we went so long without breeding you. Like, what a waste of time! You were right there, waiting for us to stuff our babies in you."
The words trigger some instinct the fertility drug built in Dare Taker's brain. He rocks his hips as much as possible beneath the weight of his middle. The thrusts make his belly jiggle. The babies kick. He grabs his sides and gasps, feeling overstimulated and massive.
The bro laughs at him. "You look ready to pop. Don't worry though, we wont let you sit empty for long. Me and the guys are installing a milking machine and a breeding bench to make things easier."
Dare Taker's mind whites out and he cries as an orgasm washes through him. He's become the frat's broodmare, and somehow that feels right.
Every 25 year old on Station Nebula's Edge is required to bear one baby for the stability of the commune. The only way out of the obligation is to find a surrogate who will do the bearing for you.
Luckily for your friends, you have the spine of an overcooked sponge.
First you were only going to carry your own required baby and that of Lyria, your best friend who can't stand the idea of giving up hover ball for the length of a pregnancy. But then Garent heard and begged you to carry his, too, because he wants to travel this year. Soon five more of your friends were needling, bargaining, and downright intimidating you into adding their fetus to your womb.
So now your friends are living their 25th year, lithe and carefree, while you waddle through the halls of the station, swollen like an overfilled helium 3 collection balloon. You've got eight active babies stuffed under the straining skin of your belly.
The commune folk chuckle when they see you working your shift in the hydroponic gardens. You can barely walk, so bending down to check the health of the plants is nearly impossible. It's a little easier to fix broken harvester drones at a desk, but your belly is so huge you have to sit much further back.
Your friends tease you, prodding and rubbing your belly, and you can only laugh weakly as you agree: yes, you sure are a sucker. Lyria brings you calorie-rich meal bars and bullies you into eating way too many. Her reasoning? If her baby comes out too small, it might not fulfill her obligation, so she's going to make sure these babies are *big*.
"I'm the one who has to carry it," you protest. It's late per the Station's day cycle, and your whole friend group is in the common room with the best view of the nebula's spiral. Lyria just hand-fed you an entire day's worth of calories in one chocolate-flavored meal bar, and she's already unwrapping another. "Your baby is big enough, I promise. They're all big enough."
As if they heard you, your passengers begin squirming. You groan and hold your bulging sides, overcome by feeling so stuffed. Lyria rubs your side. "You really were made for this," she soothes. "Your belly is the biggest I've ever seen, and you still have weeks before you deliver. You're a natural breeder."
"I feel like I'm going to pop," you groan. "I'm getting so fat, so big and heavy. I only agreed to carry your baby because you begged me to."
Garent comes over from where he's just finished a card game. "No," he says, "No one would agree to this unless they secretly wanted it." He squats down easily by your chair and rucks up your tunic-like shirt, baring your belly to the room. It's as big as a yoga ball, riddled with stretch marks.
"Hey!" you protest.
"Just checking on my contribution," he says mildly. The fetuses kick and turn. You grunt, face red. Everyone is looking, and more friends are coming over. "I think, deep down, you know that your best use is being filled with babies and growing them so that we can do more interesting things."
The words sting. A tear rolls down your cheek. Lyria brushes it away gently. You turn to her, opening your mouth to tell her how much that hurts, but she pushes the meal bar in and shushes you.
"Chew and swallow," she instructs. Her voice is kind but firm, and you do what she says. The food goes down heavy, like it's plumping up you and your babies as soon as it hits your stomach. "I bet those pregnancy hormones are making you sensitive, but you shouldn't cry. Garent is right, isn't he? You want to be full of our babies, because this is what you're good at."
You want to argue that you were just trying to be a good friend, but when you open your mouth again she shoves in more food. After swallowing you have to pant for breath. You squeeze your fists as your stomach cramps. You swear you can feel your babies getting fatter, your belly pushing out like rising dough, weighing you down like a boulder strapped to your torso. Can your friends feel it too? Several more are prodding your belly, but maybe they're just enjoying the way the babies are fighting for space in your packed womb.
You hear them talking as if from a distance:
This one's mine, I'm sure of it.
More womb than person at this point, huh?
Just a little bigger and you'll need a hover chair to move.
I can't imagine even carrying one. I guess some people are just born to get bred.
Do you think pushing them out will come naturally, too?
Milk's gotta drop soon. Look at how full those tits are...
Then Lyria and Garent are adjusting your chair, leaning the backrest down and raising the leg rest. The result is that your belly rises up like a dome, filling your line of sight. The weight settles on your torso, crushing. It's harder to breathe, and you huff. "I'm not... I'm not just a baby maker..."
Lyria crouches by your head and brushes your hair out of your sweating face. "But look at that baby bump," she says.
You do. You really have no choice. It's like a monster squirming on your lap, bigger than it has any right to be.
"Isn't it cool that we all have our babies inside you? You've changed your shape to fit them. This has got to be the most impressive thing you've ever done."
More tears roll down your cheeks, but you nod at Lyria. She's your best friend and she's probably right.
"You're a very good baby maker. Look at that belly."
You nod again.
"Isn't this your best use?"
That's harder to agree to, because you really are struggling. Eight plump babies is too much, and you hate feeling like a bulging, overfilled incubator pretending to be a human. But Lyria pets you again and looks at you expectantly. "Yeah," you wheeze out.
"Good," she coos, standing smoothly and dancing her fingers up to the very peak of your belly mountain. "There are several 24 year olds on my hover ball team, you know. I don't want any of them to have to sit out next year."
"And I have some new travel plans," Garent tells her, "with some friends who are due to carry." He slaps you lightly on the underbelly. It doesn't hurt but it sets off your womb's occupants. He laughs at the flurry of kicks. "But I'm sure you can fit them all. You're a natural breeder, right?"
Well, you always were a pushover. You groan and clutch your sides, feeling like even one pound more of baby is going to pop you. And you nod.
Here's a weird idea: what if your boss orders you a new office chair, but it turns out to be a high-tech breeding bench that holds you in place for robotic insemination. The device pesters your coworkers to leave semen samples, and they do just to shut it up (or maybe they love the idea of you stuffed full with their babies). You're confused and humiliated as you swell up with every sample. The device is programmed to announce how full your womb is and how full your teats are. Your coworkers accept that you're the office babymaker now, and talk about you as if you're a finicky printer when you struggle with your first of many births.
This is a fun one! I love the idea of being the only one who doesn't know what's going on until I'm swollen with everyone's babies, so maybe the device doesn't make its announcements until I'm decently far along. But first I don't even realize I'm pregnant at all, I'm just trying to hide and deal with this sudden weight I've been gaining. I'm already embarrassed about getting fat so fast, and everyone seems to be staring at me all of the time, but maybe it's my imagination because I'm self conscious. I'm in denial as I feel the first flutters. I don't want to be pregnant, and how could I be? But I can't deny it for long, and I'm horrified and humiliated when the device announces to the office how well bred I am.
I get big fast, with at least one baby from each of my coworkers stuffed into my womb. Soon I'm waddling around the office, panting and blushing from the exertion and embarrassment. My boss and coworkers pat and rub my belly without asking, talking about me like I'm not even there, talking about how well production is going and what a lucrative quarter it should be when I finally pop. The device announces that my big, swollen milkers are full to capacity, and they discuss how well I'm exceeding the projections while opening up my shirt so they can suckle and drain me.
The babies kick and roll inside of me constantly, and even if everyone couldn't already see how massively pregnant I am, the device announces how far along I am and how big my babies are getting. There are meetings about my progress, and the staff discuss goals for next time, and how they can exceed production by filling me even more. I'm present for the meetings, but no one asks for my input or addresses me at all. All I can do is lean back in my seat, huffing as the babies move, rubbing my boulder of a belly, completely overcome by being turned into a baby factory for the entire office.
When my water breaks, right in the middle of the office in front of everyone, the reactions are casual. My coworkers nonchalantly check my dilation as if they're checking their email. The first baby is huge, and takes forever to even breach my cervix, and my coworkers press on my belly and make me squat as if they're troubleshooting a finicky printer while trying to make me crown. I end up laying in the middle of the office, my legs spread as I struggle to birth the first baby, my coworkers taking turns drinking my milk and watching me labor while drinking coffee and chatting about how long it's taking for me to get this baby out.
if you had to pick a location to have a sudden rapid pregnancy, where would it be?
Strictly in fantasy... I think I would want it somewhere semi-public. Having people witness and stare and comment on how I'm growing, or asking how far along I am while rubbing my swelling belly without asking, and maybe pressing to see if the babies will kick, is the hottest.
Specifically? It's hard to say, haha. Somewhere comfortable enough to give birth. I don't know that this is my official answer, but I just thought of a sudden rapid preg situation in a movie theatre. I don't notice what's happening at first, and when I see my belly is poking out and growing, I panic and try to hide it with my popcorn bucket. The trailers have only just ended, so I have at least two hours before the lights will come on. Maybe I'm too nervous to get up because I'm there with friends, and they'll ask questions if I'm gone too long.
I'm frozen, and by the time I start reconsidering getting up, I look six months along, and I feel my belly button pop out at that very moment. I can definitely feel something moving around in there, but just barely. The popcorn bucket is starting to rest on top of my round belly, and doing less and less to hide it. My chest is sore and swollen, and I try to pull my jacket closed to cover it. I ditch the popcorn and try to cover myself with my jacket and arms.
Maybe thirty, forty minutes into the movie, I look full term, and something is visibly moving around inside of me. Finally, my friends notice that I'm suddenly heavily pregnant, my shirt tight and ridden up to show my entire underbelly, threatening to reveal my big belly button that strains against the fabric. The friend to my left reaches over and touches the firm, round mass of me, both of us gasping as something pushes out against their palm. The friend on my right joins, cupping and rubbing my widening underbelly. I'm flustered and humiliated, but relieved to be somewhat hidden in the dark of the theatre.
My swollen chest is straining the fabric of my t-shirt more and more, and it's becoming obvious that I have more than one baby growing in my belly. My shirt slides up more and more as I get bigger and bigger, revealing the tight, stretched skin with babies moving just beneath. My chest feels tighter and fuller, and one of my friends finally lifts it all the way up, leaving my big milkers and huge baby belly totally exposed. Each of them latches on, suckling as if they've been waiting for this moment. It doesn't take long for my milk to let down, and I'm struggling to stifle my groans as I nurse my friends and grow more and more pregnant by the minute.
I look like I'll be going into labor with triplets at any second, and the movie is just a little over halfway over. The kicks are really getting strong, now, and my teats are producing plenty of milk to keep feeding my friends. Their hands keep roaming my belly, feeling it grow, and feeling my babies move inside of me.
The movie is almost over, and I must be carrying at least a set of quadruplets. It's getting harder and harder to keep myself quiet, the babies are so active and my tits are so sensitive. I start feeling some discomfort around my belly, nothing major, and I'm too caught up in suddenly becoming massively pregnant to think about it yet.
The movie is wrapping up, the credits sure to roll any minute, and I'm huge. The cramps are getting worse, and my friends finally unlatch, leaving my milky teats to drip and leak. They pull my shirt back down, but it's difficult to get it over my chest, and there's no chance of covering my belly. The lights come on as the movie ends, and people around us are staring at me and my yoga ball sized belly, completely bare, and full of kicking babies. As people hover around, staring and whispering, I feel the worst contraction yet and cry out as my water breaks, soaking the seat beneath me.
