Pregnant men exist. Not just as an uwu mpreg fanfic trope or a joke. Just because you think pregnancy is gross or icky doesn’t mean you can’t treat pregnant people with respect, regardless of gender or sex. Even in the queer community, trans men who choose to carry their children are seen as an anomaly or as betraying everything they’ve worked for. They aren’t. If I carry a child, I’m still just as much of a man.
Also, I understand if the idea of pregnancy is dysphoric for many trans men. I do. But trans men being pregnant isn’t an excuse to exclude them from queer spaces or treat them with anything less than the same respect you would anyone else. Many trans men experience dysphoria regarding the idea of pregnancy, but many don’t. Their body isn’t your business. Don’t be fucking weird.
Another contraction starts before the last one fully leaves me.
I feel it building deep inside my body like a terrible inevitability.
My stomach tightens again beneath the man's hands, the round curve growing hard enough that it almost hurts to breathe. I bow forward against the pole with a helpless sound trapped in my throat while the babies push and roll inside the tightening pressure.
They feel frantic now.
One kicks hard beneath my ribs while another grinds downward with crushing weight low in my pelvis. The movement is so forceful I can actually see my belly shifting under the fabric.
The man notices everything.
“Oh, there you go”, he says almost teasingly behind me. “Can't even stand up straight anymore, huh?”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
The shame burns through me so badly I feel dizzy.
Please, leave me alone.
People are absolutely staring now. I can feel it. The overheated carriage has gone too quiet around me, the silence full of polite avoidance while this stranger openly holds my laboring stomach like I'm some spectacle unfolding in public.
Maybe I am.
I weakly try to pull his hand away.
He doesn't let me.
Instead his fingers tighten around the underside of my belly, supporting the heavy weight more firmly while his other hand slides slowly over the front of it.
“Careful,” he murmurs.
My face feels unbearably hot.
The worst part is that I need the support.
My body is failing under the sheer heaviness of the babies now. My lower back throbs violently. My hips feel pried apart from the inside. Every contraction drags the weight lower, and the pressure between my legs has become so urgent it frightens me.
I rub my belly again instinctively, desperate for relief, but his hand covers mine almost immediately.
“No, like this,” he says.
Then he massages harder.
His broad palm presses upward beneath my belly while the other moves slowly across the taut front, kneading at the tightness while I tremble against the pole. The pressure makes the babies shift restlessly beneath his touch.
He chuckles quietly under his breath.
“They're fighting for room in there.”
A whimper escapes me before I can stop it - half embarrassment, half pain.
I feel huge.
Overstimulated. Overwhelmed.
My belly sticks out so far now that I can barely see my own feet, a massive swollen weight stretched tight with moving life. The sweater can't conceal anything anymore. Every motion inside me shows. Every contraction turns my stomach into a hard aching globe beneath the fabric.
And his hands keep drawing attention to it.
“Look at you”, he says, almost admiringly, as another movement rolls across my abdomen beneath his palm. “You're so close.”
Please, stop talking.
Please, stop.
But another contraction crashes through me so hard my knees nearly give out.
“Oh God -”
The sound slips out loud enough that several people look over openly this time.
My entire stomach seizes tight beneath the sweater. The babies shove downward during the contraction with terrifying force, and suddenly the pressure low in my body becomes almost unbearable.
I gasp and spread my feet wider automatically.
The man feels it immediately.
“There it is”, he murmurs near my ear, voice lower now. “They really want out, hm?”
Tears sting my eyes from humiliation.
I'm trapped standing here panting against the pole while this stranger holds my throbbing belly in both hands, openly feeling the contractions, openly feeling the babies moving inside me while everyone around us pretends not to notice.
Another sharp movement presses visibly outward near the center of my stomach.
His hand follows it.
“They’re right there.”
I can barely think anymore through the pressure.
My whole body feels overtaken by it - the relentless fullness, the weight dragging downward, the constant movement inside me. It feels impossible that my skin can stretch any farther. Impossible that my body can still contain all this life straining to be born.
The train jolts again.
I let out a broken gasp as pain tightens through my lower abdomen.
And the man just pulls me back more firmly against him, one hand spread possessively across the front of my belly while the other supports its crushing weight underneath.
“Easy”, he says softly. “You're going to make a scene.”
Imagine feeling the first few flutters of the baby growing within your womb. It's a line of demarcation: one moment, it's almost easy to forget that you're pregnant, and in the next, there will be no more denying that it's true. The gentle curve of your belly will soon be swelling ever larger, and before long, those faint, trembling movements will strengthen until your entire abdomen quakes and rolls with every energetic kick.
Thinking about parasite pregnancy. A baby tentacle monster that crawls inside you and forces its way into your womb, it hurts for a while as your cervix is forced open but the creature is small and fast making it nearly impossible to pull out. The monster growing steadily filling your womb until it reaches adulthood, feeding off your fluids and sexual partner’s cum. Leaving its host looking five months pregnant. The parasite making you more horny and eager to bend over for anyone when it’s hungry. Every 3 months it lays its own clutch of eggs inside your womb, they incubate for a few weeks before hatching sending you into labor with the baby monsters. But the parasite itself is too big to give birth too, only its off spring crawling out of your laboring hole
i wish pregnancy pacts were like...magically binding contracts. I wish they forged permanent, life-long connections between your wombs.
you make the pact young, probably in middle school or high school, that's when most pregnancy pacts are forged. at a sleepover, you and your friends make a promise that when one of you gets pregnant, the rest will too. you're all young, you don't know any better, the only thing you're thinking about is how fun it would be to have babies at the same time as your friends. it seems like a great idea, none of you will ever have to go through pregnancy alone. you giggle about it a bit, fantasize about what it would be like, discuss baby names, but don't really put much stock in it. pretty soon, you've forgotten all about it.
years down the line, after you've all grown up and mostly gone your separate ways, and you see that one of them has made a pregnancy announcement on social media. you leave a comment congratulating her, and move on with your life. a few weeks later, another posts the same thing. funny coincidence, that two of your old friends ended up pregnant at the same time. you congratulate them and move on. not even a full week after that, two more have announced their own pregnancies, and it doesn't really feel like a coincidence anymore. come to think of it, you've been feeling pretty exhausted lately, your cycle is definitely more than a few weeks late, and that stubborn bloating at the base of your stomach just won't go down.
turns out it doesn't matter what kind of birth control you use, or how careful you are. it doesn't even matter if you never have sex. if one womb in the pact is seeded, the rest are too. it only takes one of you being careless, or selfish, or even unwillingly impregnated, and the rest of you are stuck growing round with child alongside them. There's no way to prevent it, no way to reverse the pact.
you reconnect with all of them and form a group chat to compare bump photos, cycles, and due dates. trying to make the most of a bad situation, you set up maternity photoshoots and schedule sleepovers and spa days. it takes a while to get everyone on board, but eventually you do, though with varying degrees of excitement. you're hoping you can all at least enjoy your pregnancies together like you originally planned when you made the pact at that sleepover all those years ago.
maybe you all go into labor at the same time too, at one of your many sleepovers. or maybe your labors are staggered but you'll always give birth at the same time, so one of you might be left laboring for days while the others nervously wait for their own contractions to hit. either way, you get to share the experience with all of your friends, just like you wanted all those years ago.
for a while, it's nice. fun, even.
but when you're several babies deep, each of you overworked and exhausted, that one friend who "doesn't believe in birth control" sends a photo of her most recent ultrasound to the group chat. your phone explodes with furious texts as everyone berates her for getting you all pregnant again, when you're still recovering from the last baby, but you can only stare in horror at the sight of three distinct shapes on the ultrasound.
Soooo overdue you feel like your water could break with a sneeze, or break when you hit that pothole the city hasn't fixed, or when you eat a little too much, or when you stand in the morning.......
(Content Warning: Unwanted Pregnancy and Childbirth)
"Dude... If I show you something, do you promise not to be weird about it? It's important.”
Of course you nod. You and him had been good friends for as long as you've known each other, after all.
You go to a quiet room. He seems stressed, sweat is shining on his forehead, he's breathing really heavy.
"Remember, you promised not to be weird. Right?" You nod again, wondering what could be so important.
He lifted his shirt, exposing his hairy belly and chest. His nipples dark, top scars vivid. His middle round and firm, it looked rock hard, navel popped out and a dark line leading into his pants.
Those went next, along with his boxers. You felt yourself getting more and more turned on in spite of yourself, as you saw his swollen pussy, his big, thick, hard T-dick. Everything between his legs shiny with wetness.
His belly sagged, and the tension in his body left. "It's coming. Do you understand what I mean?" Of course you did. It was impossible to miss, you couldn't believe you hadn't realized before.
"You're my best friend. I just... Need to not be alone. And I need someone to drop it off at the fire station. Once it's out. You ok with that?" You nod. You've been close friends as long as you've known each other, after all.
He nods, eyes closing. “Didn't expect it to take so long… be so intense, you know? It's just… mngh, feel it coming…” his face scrunched with effort in an insanely appealing way as he leaned back, bracing himself on a wall. His T-dick twitched, you’d never wanted something in your mouth so badly in your life. You knew his labor fluids would taste amazing coating his cock like that, you felt yourself salavating to pop it between your lips, let him fuck your face roughly as he labored…
“You look incredible.” You say, the words coming before you think. Your privates ache with need for him, and you see his member twitch. “I don't feel incredible… fuck…” he groaned, the contraction passing. “I never wanted to feel this, what this was like. Any of it.”
“Is it that bad?” You ask, and he grimaces. “mostly, yea. It's almost over, I just need it done…” he takes a moment. “I… like how you're looking at me, though. You really do like this, huh?”
You nod. You’ve liked him a long time. He's radiant. Masculine and in hard labor. He's worked so hard to make everything how he wanted, His body is… perfect. Even if it hurts him to know he's pregnant, you've never seen anyone more sexy than this hairy, strong, powerful man you’d played games with, joked with, drank with, talked about chicks with.
You remember he's bi. Fuck. Are you bi? You want to touch his T-dick so bad it *hurts*, not because it's a clit, but because it's his laboring, birthing *cock*. And you need to suck it, reward him for being such a good boy, birthing like this with you.
You get on your knees. Move closer. His belly tightens in a contraction, he groans in pain. You see his body tense as he pushes. He's *giving birth*, right now, this man is about to feel a baby he never wanted slip out of him.
You kiss the tip of his cock.
Oh. God. It's perfect.
You moan as you part your lips, taking him inside. Fuck, he’s *so good*. It tastes so amazing, feels so soft but hard all at once. It strains in your mouth as he pushes and your tounge runs along the base, more slick, sweet birthing fluids coating it.
“FUCK!” He cries out, his legs shaky, and you feel his bump gently touch your head, another contraction over. His hand pats a shoulder, then the back of your head. “Dude, what… you said you wouldn't be weird!”
You take him deep as he groans in pleasure, then back to the very tip, where you say “nothing weird. Two friends doing what feels right.” He’s panting, quivering. "Maaan… You can't suck my dick while someone’s baby is coming out of my pussy!"
You take him deep again, running firm circles around the base as the cutest gasp comes from him. “You taste so good though… nobody needs to know. Our secret, right?” he leans back, resting more weight on you. “Nobody… needs to know… ngh… fuck… FUCK!”
He tenses. You go hard on him, feeling his T-dick strain once more as he pushed, gripping your hair tight. Gods, he’s SO strong, so amazing… he hid this for months, that must have been so hard… he needs to feel good. He deserves to feel good. You are more than happy to help.
Especially since helping feels so amazing. Your hand slides down your pants, finds your own privates. You touch yourself, pleasure surging as you feel him bearing down, the effort making his cock throb in your mouth, like the poor thing wanted to cum inside you but couldn't… that’s ok. It's perfect just how it is…
“Big push…” you manage to purr passed his member. “Big push, just like that… don't stop, don't stop…” his grunts are so deep and rough and masculine, his fingers gripping you so tight it hurts. “It's so fucking low!” He cries out, pulling you against him hard, filling your mouth with the flavor of his masculinity, blended with the slick sweetness of labor, childbirth.
His grip relaxes, he falls back, legs clearly shaky from the effort and your attentions. You cup his crotch, he opens his thighs to make room wordlessly. His pussy lips are so soft and swollen, bulging out obscenely, already a different shape than when he first exposed himself.
Your fingers graze along him. Soaking wet, slick, and straining. You let a fiber dip inside, and feel it. Slimy wet hair, coated with his arousal and birth juices. “It’s right there…” you say, the awe in your voice obvious.
“I feel it…” he replies, stroking your hair. “I feel it wants to come, that it's going to open me… this is so hard, it feels so violating… I never wanted a baby… I’m so scared… but I’m glad you’re with me…”
You kiss along his thighs, grazing his lower lips with your mouth. He shivers, before you feel the tension starting again in his legs, his groin, his back. You grab his hips, his butt, as you take him in your mouth again, pulling him into you as he grips your head with a cry of “It FUCKING HURTS SO BAD!!!”
You take him deep as he bears down, squatting slowly, opening his legs as you let one hand gently cup him. You can feel it, as his free hand finds your shoulder, putting his weight all on you. That wet, hard heat pressing into your hand. The oh-so-quiet, almost impossible to hear *shlick* of the head opening him, spreading him, wet skin on wet skin.
It drives you wild. He’s GIVING BIRTH. Your guy friend is feeling his lips spreading to let a baby emerge from his most intimate spot. It's happening right now, in front of you, you can TASTE IT in his throbbing, straining cock.
So many things race through your head. Some kind, some cruel. Some supportive and others utterly shameless. But the one you feel most is that this is perfect. This man is so painfully sexy, and you’re so glad you get to share this moment, even if it's one he never wanted to experience. Maybe even especially.
He bucks against you gently, his hips rocking for comfort as he grunts “don't want you, don't want you, get out get out get out of meeee…” you feel his burden responding, spreading him, crowning as his hips jerk.
Your friend hisses in a breath, “fucking burns so much, I can't do thissss…” You just caress the head, trace along where his vagina is opening, and murmur “you can, you're so close, it's almost over… get it out, recover, then we can go back to hanging out, ok?”
He takes an unsteady inhale, as his body relaxes. “I can… you’re right… I just have to go a bit more… it's our secret, right?” And you nod. Of course it is. You would never want to share a moment this perfect with anyone else.
A little more exploring his body. Staring in awe at the hair glistening from between his swollen lips, the head of a real baby emerging from him, before he began to tense once more.
As he once more filled the air with masculine desperation, you felt how close it was getting in a way you never expected. Inside your mouth, your friends dick began to change angle. Moving, pushing deeper, straining and shifting as the crowning head forced it to change position, everything taken over by the need to get this baby out of him, right now. His vagina only there to bring life into the world, whether he wants to or not.
His dick pulled itself out of your mouth with a pop, and you couldn't help but let out the most embarrassing, pathetic whimper of disappointment as that beautiful, perfect flavor, that exquisite hard softness, disappeared.
His T-dick was spreading at the base. His lips pulled tight. The head was at a full crown, and he was squeezing your shoulder, gripping your hair so hard it hurt. You knew it was nothing compared to what he was feeling, as his face reddened, his expression scrunched, before letting out a desperate, cracking shout, and…
The head erupted from your friends pussy in a gush of fluids. He sank into a deep, deep squat, still pushing, and as you watched, the shoulders rotated, and began to slide out.
You barely got your hands out in time to catch the emerging newborn, the remaining amniotic fluids tricking into your wrists and hands. You lifted the baby, looking for a way to clamp and cut the cord, trying to remember where the fire station was and the fastest way to get there.
You offered to let him hold it, but your friend just shook his head. “Come back quick, ok?” Was all he managed, and you nodded, listening to his request.
The placenta was gone by the time you got back. He was tenderly trying to stagger out of the room, and you immediately came and helped. Guided him to the room you’d been watching TV in, settled him in with plenty of water to deal with the lost fluids.
To your surprise, he was still completely naked. You didn't stare, but you still found your friend attractive, even with the smaller belly. You couldn't stop thinking about it, how wrong yet perfect it all had been, how unfair it was for him, but how glad you were it happened… you had so many questions, but quietly accepted it wasn't your place to ask, would likely never learn the answer to most.
For now, it was more than enough to sit next to your friend on the couch and watch your shows together, chit-chatting about nothing in particular until he fell asleep.
As you tried to rest in your bed that night, however, his deep, powerful, guttural grunts wouldn't leave your mind. His beautiful, swollen body shining with sweat. The flavor of his stunning, perfect T-dick, swollen and dripping with pregnancy and birth…
