#forced birth

[liberalsarecool]

Republican misogyny is a crime against humanity.

[toomuchbirth]

"I really think it's coming now!"

It was the fourth time she'd panted that between contractions and orgasms. I ignored her just like before,catching my breath before I returned to pleasuring her.

This time was different. I felt her vaginal lips bulging into my chin, pushing as I sucked her clit. She'd wanted a hospital birth, wanted me to take her there over an hour ago. But she was still naked from the waist down, legs spread, and I wanted her to cum my little brat out of her body, just her and me.

I felt my wish coming true. Her body stained in an involuntary push. Then locked in an orgasm that forced her to buck against my face. I felt her lips part. Felt the head crowning as she came.

Her pussy had never tasted as sweet as in that moment. I needed more. I kept going, not planning to stop until my little burden was in my hands...

[robot-roadtrip-rants]

Jews, we need to update Lilith. She’s the demoness of maternal mortality and SIDS, right? But modern medicine has sharply reduced mother and newborn fatality/illness rates. Lilith needs to expand her repertoire to cover modern threats to maternal health. From here on out, Lilith is the demoness of pro-forced birthers. She’s the patron of protesters screaming outside of abortion clinics, the sponsor of legislation that snatches decisions from the hands of mothers and doctors, the secret menace hacking away at funding for family planning and pre- and postpartum healthcare. She’s the girlie behind all the crackpot influencers telling you to give birth alone in your home and never vaccinate your kids. And she is very specifically the demonness of women who lead the charge on these topics. You know who I’m talking about. Phyllis Schlafly, Lilith is Phyllis Schlafly.

Edit: I should admit that this is an extremely American take on Lilith. But I stand by my take wrt American culture.

[businessnail]

I wanna impregnate a stealth trans man

Just totally ruin his progress and out him to everyone

Enjoy seeing how over the next few months he’s unable to bind his now milky tits. He has to keep buying new pants as his hips grow wider. Eventually he may even have to go and get a maternity dress.

[crookedsuits]

hear me out on this one:

Getting knocked up by your unicorn satyr hubby, waiting a few months, a now having to deal with him insisting you push at every moment once you go into labor for the sake of his foal. (And to avojd the risk of getting stabbied by a babys horn.)

Being forced to push way before water even breaks? While not having contractions?

Yes please.

He’d be so adamant about it, telling me how important it was that I get this foal out of me as soon as possible. If he had told me this before my labor begun, I wouldn’t have let him know of my first contractions.

My huge belly is filled with movement from the foal as I try to keep pushing. I’m squatting down, hips moving in circles. My husband is watching, encouraging. But I just need a break. It’s been five hours already and I feel no progress. But husband swears this will speed up the labor.

It’s better once my contractions get longer, although I still don’t have the urge to push. It hurts and feels wrong. We try to go about our day, I cook and clean the den but he says I should be pushing at the same time.

When my water breaks explosively as I’m pushing, my husband is giddy with joy. He is worried as well, for I’ve been pushing nearly ten hours at this point. I’m exhausted. I worry how I’ll get the foal out now that I actually should be pushing. I squat, scream as I push and feel the head finally move lower. It’s so big. It’s way too big for my human hips. I moan and beg him to help.

Once the contraction is over I gulp for breath and hold my large belly. My skin is so dry and striped with stretch marks. But I get no relief as my husband pushes his hand against the top of my belly and presses down. ”Push!” He insists, helping me move the foal down even without a contraction. ”No! I can’t”, I cry out but still push against his artificial contraction.

The baby moves down too fast. In an instant it is stretching my hole, making me thrash is pain as I’m not allowed time to stretch around the head. With the noxt contractions the head bursts free and my husband moves between my legs. He praises me gently, says how proud he is, but then grabs the baby and starts pulling.

”No! Stop! What are you doing?” I wail as I feel him pulling the foal out. My huge belly is soft without a contraction and I can feel the body of the foal slowly being extracted from my womb. I cry in agony just as hard he is when he is finally born by my husband’s hands.

[opbreeder99]

I like the idea of rapid pregnancy being the result of some unknowning little kid... one who just wanted a lot of siblings for Christmas, not knowing his mother would have to birth them all before he woke up. Finding some genie lamp in the sand at the beach not imagining how his wish for his mother to be happy again like she was pregnant with him in the pictures would cause her to expand in front of hundreds.

Putting a ball under her shirt while she was napping on the couch, not caring that it could disappear and turn into her own warm and taut skin. Drawing their family at school, seven siblings added to the picture oh you little brat... look how full you made your mom.

Candle at their birthday? Anniversary to you birthing a human? Well, guess what they wished for another!

And maybe with the lingering curse that whenever your kid touches you, they trigger it... making it all faster, all the more painful, and they just have an innocent face. They have no idea what they made.

And you never even wanted more kids, maybe you're just a single mother with no one who wants to raise a kid with you, a widow who has a crush on her muscular neighbor who can't help but hear you pant while you give birth, imagine you're at the beach and that magically appearing head is bulging in your swim bottom? Or you took your son to a play date and the kids think that little round thing coming out of you needs to go back in... and that kid's mom or dad is probably enjoying watching that sight.

Dms open! Send your discord. Just a horny guy who'd love to rp~~~~

[ftmpreg66]

We're at a pride event for trans men. Everyone is talking about this being a safe space and sharing their pronouns. We're all opening up about our experiences with dysphoria and affirming each other as men.

Suddenly, all of our bellies start to curve outwards. You see people shifting uncomfortably in their chairs, some pat their bellies under the table in confusion, and others pretend that nothing is happening, assuming it must be random bloating.

That is, until they swell into obvious pregnant bumps, our tshirts growing tight, and slowly lifting up to expose our rounded underbellies. Some unfortunate souls wore buttoned shirts that begin to strain, and eventually pop off and rip, exposing their flattened navels and stretch marks, ripe with movement.

We all freak out, crying or sitting in shock, or angrily denying what is happening. We're all clutching at our now huge baby bumps and groaning in disbelief. Some spread their legs to accommodate their new girth, others struggle to stand up and waddle away. One guy who looks like he is going to pop tries to waddle away, screaming that this can't be happening, cradling his huge belly with both hands. His legs give out and he falls to his knees, his big leaking tits ripping out of his binder as he grunts in pain, a big wet patch spreading across his trousers.

Soon, we are all frantically trying to take off our clothes despite the dysphoria we feel. Some are squatting with their bellies hanging towards the ground, some lie on the floor spread open, others hold onto chairs or even try to 'run' (waddle) away while their baby is forcing it's way down their birth canal. All of us are pushing against our will - a cacophony of grunts, pants, and moans fill the room. Our hairy pussy lips are on full display, bulging and crowning with our unwanted babies' heads...

[dilfpregcentral]

Thinking about a king who’s yet to have any heirs begging the gods for fertility. When his queen’s blood continues to come for many months regardless of his pleas, he curses the gods for abandoning him; he has no reason yet to believe that his own growing gut is anything other than winter weight.

When spring comes, people begin to notice the protruding roundness of his belly, his physician recommending him more exercise and his tailor having to let out his royal garb every few weeks.

Still, the king attempts to plant his heir in the queen’s womb every night, though now he must rest his belly on her back to complete their union.

Nine months since he appealed to the gods, murmurs of concern follow the king wherever he goes. His gait has slowed and widened, a ponderous, rocking movement as his great belly hefts side to side. His physician looks more and more disturbed every time he examines the tight ball growing beneath the king’s gently swollen chest, warning him that he must have an imbalance of humors that have led to a massive tumor. The movement the king has felt, and the physician now feels and even sees from outside, must be the cankerous wolf, the physician surmises grimly, a malady that eats the flesh of the afflicted. Most often found in the breasts of women, it could nevertheless affect any part of the body, and the king should be prepared for a painful illness and untimely death.

But something else happens, instead. The king’s cock begins to swell. At first it’s barely enough to notice, but after a few weeks, it’s so thick and bloated that he can barely stand to touch it. He shudders at the slightest brushes against the tender, stretched flesh, and just the most tentative touch of the queen’s lips makes him cry out and dribble seed.

The physician warns him that the wolf might be on the move throughout his body, that this is likely a tumor that could destroy his member, but the king has another thought. He remembers pleading with the gods, and believes that they must have finally answered his prayers, and this large and sensitive cock is a sign of fertility.

The overstimulation is excruciating, but he barely manages to squeeze his massively swollen cock into the queen. She gasps and squirms and trembles, feeling split open by him. Tears cover his face by the time he reaches his climax. Both of them cry out as a sudden torrent of fluid erupts from him, believing this outpouring to be seed given to him by the gods. Once the servants change their linens, they go to sleep convinced that their heir will come soon.

They’re right—it will just be much sooner than they think.

The king wakes in agony at dawn. His belly cramps so tightly that he can do nothing but bend over it and groan. Assuming his illness must be consuming him, he remembers the physician informing him that there is no treatment or cure for the canker, and he resigns himself to his fate. His queen stays by his side as his body is wracked with fits of tension. She finds herself thinking that his agony reminds her of a laboring woman, especially the way the low-hanging bulge of his belly lifts and contracts with each wave of pain, but she fears such an observation would simply upset him, and keeps it to herself.

The king is lying on his side when the change comes. He groans, hair sticking to his sweat-drenched brow as he shakes his head against the soured sheets. He moans for the gods’ mercy, and instinctively lifts one leg, spreading his thighs wide. That’s when the queen sees how the flesh above his member, normally a relatively flat, triangular space, bulges as if around something hard and spherical. She stares as he thrashes and groans, watching as the tendons below his belly tighten and the shape sinks a little lower.

She figures it out, then. She stares at him, her jaw slowly loosening as she realizes what she’s witnessing. The heaving belly, contracting around a babe. And the head… the head descending towards his member.

She tells him she needs to get help, and he begs her to stay, but she leaves anyway. Terrified and in agony, the king feels something shifting deep within him, and is sure he must be dying. When the door bursts open and several people enter, he barely notices, eyes blurry with exhaustion and tears.

The physician and the midwife stare at the laboring man, stunned, but it’s the midwife who leaps into action first. She ducks between the king’s legs and begins to gently palpate around his bulging crotch, holding his thighs open when he screams and tries to close them. He demands to know the meaning of this, and she tells him. He’s giving birth. He tries to laugh at her, but a contraction steals his breath. His hands knot into the sheets and he groans long and low, while the midwife, physician, and queen all watch his crotch grow heavier and heavier with the head, until the base of his flushed cock begins to stretch with it. He hisses in pain, totally unaware of what’s coming.

He screams with the next contraction, eyes flashing wide with shocked terror as the base of his cock stretches a little more, trying to widen enough to accept the head. No, he begs. Not there. Please not there! The queen can do nothing but cradle his head in her lap. The midwife rubs his hip and tells him how well he’s doing. The physician, pale-faced, sits at the king’s desk taking notes and wondering if anyone will believe him.

Oh god, no, the king sobs as he feels another contraction coming. He cries for someone to stop it, but nothing can be done as his body squeezes, and the crown of the head peeks into the base of his cock. The king begins to thrash, and the midwife has to call the physician for help to hold down his legs. It gives both of them a prime view as, over the course of several contractions, the base of the king’s penis slowly wraps around the babe’s skull.

For many hours, he labors. The king screams for help, for mercy, for his mother, for death, as the hint of head inside his cock slowly eases forward. Finally it crowns into him, his base rendered nearly translucent around the widest part of the head, skin stretched pale and veins bulging blue with the tension. His chest rattles with tearful wheezing, his hands cramping from gripping the sheets.

The next milestone comes with a thrash of his whole body and a wail of, simply, Fuck! as the head pops into his shaft. His tip is beginning to stretch, now, an angry, weeping red, slit pulling open. He rests, then, such as a man can with a baby’s head deforming his cock, eyelids fluttering shut and chest heaving as he pants for breath. The queen dabs his forehead with a wet cloth and tells him how brave he is.

The midwife begins to gently stretch his hole, and he whimpers, but lets her, knowing she’s preparing him for—

Oh, nooooo, no, no, it won’t fit, it won’t fit! he sobs, but his cockhead splays all the same, pulled nearly flat as it comes flush to the crown. His crotch bulges again, too, as the shoulders push at it. Make it stop, just cut me open and take it out, I order you! Do it! he screams, but his three helpers exchange looks grimly, knowing that the flesh of his birthing member is much too thin to be cut without hurting the child, nevermind the risk of the king bleeding out. He must endure.

A litany of No, no, no no nonono no nooo noooooo! fills the room as his body pushes the child forward. The slight splay of his slit opens eye-like over slimy hair, his spongy cockhead reduced to something like a heart shape as it hugs the emerging head. His crotch stretches sharply, then the head eases back, his slit closing a little. He whimpers with relief.

But the midwife begins to rub around his base, trying to stretch him. She tells him he needs to push with the next contraction, or the child will never come out. He weeps bitterly.

Yet, he pushes. A high, wobbling agony gargles in his throat as he clenches his teeth and heaves air through the cracks. Veins stand out in his forehead and his shaft. His cockhead flares to the point it had reached before, and then a little further, a little less than a thumb’s length of the baby’s head visible through the slit. The shoulders don’t enter his cock, yet, but the base stays wide, ready to accept them when he does push them through.

He begs the midwife not to touch, sobs that it hurts, but she assures him gently that she’s keeping him from tearing, and keeps running her fingertip around the reddened edges of his birthing slit.

His belly lifts and tenses, and voices encourage him to push from every side. He’s only able to bear down for an instant before he loses the air in his lungs to a shriek as his slit-lips open wider. He whips his head in delirious denial, barely conscious.

This is when the midwife leans forward and pushes on the top of his belly. His eyes snap open and he screams like a dying animal as a shoulder bursts into his cock and the head surges against his tip. The bruise-purple tissue of what used to be his cockhead is indistinguishable as any part of a penis, more like a cunt now, if anything. This new cock-cunt twitches and pulses around the broad teardrop of crown now visible.

With the next contraction, he does his own pushing, fearing the pain in his belly again. He pushes until his face goes red and his whole body trembles, cock lopsided with the single shoulder and cunt lips peeling slowly down the dome of the head, until finally—

“AAAAAAAUUUUUURRRRGHHHHHHHH!!!!!”

The king’s agony echoes off the walls, his back arching and chest heaving as what was once his cock crowns around his child’s head. It holds him perfectly round and open, leaving him wheezing for breath with a high, tortured whimper threaded into his voice. He tries to keep pushing, but the midwife tells him to wait. He screams that he can’t. It’s too big! It’s gonna rip his cock off! But his attempts to push are futile, the head simply bobbing slightly, and he must endure the torment of the crown.

The next contraction should bring relief. But when it comes, his pushes only bring an awful pressure at the base of his cock, the drag of the shoulder inside his shaft, and the stinging tickle of his birthing slit struggling to release the babe’s skull. It’s stuck.

It’s stuck! It’s stuck! he shrieks.

The midwife tells him to keep his head on, and makes him roll from his side to his back and pull his legs up by his knees. He does as he’s told, though his hands tremble so badly that the queen must pull his legs back, leaning over him until his belly juts out between his upturned thighs, and his knees nearly touch his shoulders. His cock sticks up at an angle, though it wilts at the end with the weight of the babe’s head until the midwife supports it.

When pushing in that position does nothing, she continues to support his cock as she forces him to get on his hands and knees. His limbs tremble. He buries his pain-paled face in the queen’s breast and pants while he waits for a contraction. His hot breath and loose saliva seep into her dress as he pushes, but he finds no relief.

The midwife doesn’t warn him before she starts to physically tug his birthing slit down. He screams and tries to kick her, but the physician holds his legs still and the queen wraps her arms around his head to quell him. Her gown muffles his shrieks as the tip of his penis is dragged over the widest part of the skull, and he goes limp and wheezing when the head finally bursts free of his birthing slit. The gaping mouth of his cock crumples loosely around the neck, until the midwife keeps pushing it back to expose the shoulder.

When her fingers worm past the shoulder and dip inside of him, he lurches and gags. His wife is quick enough to let him loose, and he vomits over the side of the bed at the sensation of a foreign hand digging into his cervix. It leaves him tear-streaked and dry heaving, but finally, the midwife frees the second shoulder. He can do nothing but gargle in reaction.

Finally, a contraction comes, and he pushes with all he has left, his whole body trembling and his eyes rolling back. He bleats out a delirious whimper as both shoulders stretch his birthing slit at once, but they linger for only a moment before the midwife pulls the heir to the throne from his quivering body. His former penis falls limp, nothing but a gaping birth canal leaking blood and fluid.

He knows, in that moment, that the gods answered him. The first time he beseeched them, they gave him a womb with a miracle babe within… only for him to curse them, not knowing he already carried their blessing. This was his punishment.

At least it’s over.

Or, that’s what he thinks, until he consults his looking glass a few months later, and finds his sagging belly beginning to swell and harden once again.