My nameās Pen, and I present to you my pathetic attempt at an āAbout Meā post! Or whatever itās called hereā¦
I write!
I like birth. A lot. Sometimes I write about it, and thatās the main focus of this blog. Ideas bouncing around in my empty skull sometimes find their way into the physical realm in the form of words. So I figured Iād do something with them, and with the magic of Tumblr, you can read them!
I really like non-human pregnancies and darker stories, but Iāll write whatever kinky idea pops i to my head or shows up in my ask box. Iām still learning and trying things out, so ideas and tips are greatly appreciated! If you have one, donāt hold back from dropping them in my asks! Or wherever. I still donāt know how this silly site works.
So, kinks?
Obviously, if Iām gonna write something, I need something to write about. So hereās a quick tier list of things I like cause Iām too lazy to write it all out!
breeding kink is here in full force. you canāt tell me i wouldnāt look fucking amazing carrying twins, swollen belly pushing my heavy tits apart and sticking out far in front of me, obvious in whatever i wear š³
i honestly fantasize about robots/androids a lot like. if AI was ethical and you could have a personalized sex droid that would be. wow. because then i could have it be fake pregnant and enact all kinds of horrors upon it without a real person experiencing anything bad. like imagine having an android you could make 40+ weeks pregnant at any time and keep it in the pushing stage of labor for as long as you want, have it resist pushing or keep its legs closed, keep clothes on it or put a chastity belt on it or whatever you want. you could give it huge tits that are heavy and sagging or small tits that just barely show through a shirt or none at all. any personality you feel like at the moment. š¤¤
okay i cant stop thinking about this. opening your brand new android's box and pulling out this very basic doll and a wide variety of maternity and non-maternity clothes, booting up the android and setting it up to be 42 weeks with triplets, tits swollen like water balloons, already in labor. you give her a stuttering, shy, clueless personality preset. she wakes up in discomfort and you tell her you're her new owner and you have such a fun day planned.
you take her to the bedroom and lay out fifteen different outfits and tell her you want to see her try on each one. you leave her to don the first and go sit out in the living room, waiting to be shown. every outfit she comes out with and shows off, you raise her cervix dilation by another centimeter in the new app on your phone.
she's sooo embarrassed for the first few but can clearly handle it. the outfits get skimpier and more ill-fitting the further she goes, and by the time she comes out in her first cropped tee, she's sweating and can't stop squirming. she reaches ten centimeters by the seventh outfit and you trigger the urge to push through the app, but tell her she still has eight more outfits left to go, and she doesn't want to let you down on her first day here so she forces herself. she comes back out in a cropped tank and shorts that are clearly not meant for anyone past a few months of pregnancy, and her thighs are clamped together as she tries to hold everything in. her tits spill out of the little shirt. she's whimpering, but she shows off as instructed. you look at the x-ray cut on your app and see the first baby settled halfway down her birth canal despite the fact that she isn't actively pushing with it. you send her back for another.
the next one is similar, another cropped tank that's tighter this time and a pair of leggings that match. her tits are cut into by the tight fabric and you can see the outline of her huge areolas and half-erect nipples. her exposed belly visibly contorts with each contraction, its shape going from rounded and soft and distended in a torpedo shape to tall and misshapen, contorting around the shapes of the three 'babies' within. her eyes are watering now, and you tell her to bend over at the waist. through the leggings you can see a bulge starting at her crotch where her perineum is pushed out by the heavy, descending weight, her opening not yet stretching to permit the baby's exit. you tell her to squat, and she does, but you can tell it makes the urgency so much stronger. you can see her fight not to push, thighs spreading and trembling, and she starts letting out little grunts. alright, you tell her, time for the next outfit.
the next is a one-piece swimsuit, just shy of being opaque enough to conceal everything beneath. you tell her to squat again, and this time, she shakes her head tearfully and refuses, thighs pinned together in an attempt to block everything, keep it inside until she's done what you asked and tried on every outfit. you get up and take her by the shoulders, forcefully guiding her, and sit her on the couch. you force her thighs apart and she can't help it, grunting low in her throat with animalistic fervor as she fights her body's urges, though she can't help but give in and push in little bursts. you see the mound of her pussy swell and recede over and over again behind the crotch of her swimsuit. she pulls her legs up, spread wide on the cushions, and you pull the material aside to reveal a thick bush of synthetic hair and the first glimpse of a shiny head belonging to a faux baby android. you decide to play with her a little, taking her distress into extreme overstimulation. you rub the pad of your thumb over her clit, squeeze her swollen breasts and press at her enormous belly. she writhes in place, torn between the discomfort and pressure and urgency, and the heat and overload on her circuits.
finally, she gives in and pushes, and you don't tell her to stop. for almost thirty minutes she grunts low and pushes until the head is halfway to a crown. you've set her pushing to extreme difficulty mode, and it shows. her face goes blotchy and red, tendons show in her neck, and a synthetic vein stands out on her forehead as she pushes with all her might. what's happening to me, she asks you, innocent and fearful. she says she can't help it, she has to, it's so strong, and there's so much pressure. you tell her you know how to help that. you cup a palm over her spreading pussy and with the heel of your palm, you press the baby back inside. she writhes and squirms at the wrongness of it, but she lets you, because you know best. she's just a droid. when it's so deep inside again that you can't push it any further without sticking fingers inside of her, you stop. there, you tell her, it's back where it belongs for now. time to go and change into the next outfit. hurry back out! if it happens again, you know what to do to hold it off for a little longer.
like. Thats my womb filling out your belly. I didnāt just knock you up I gave you the hardware. I carved out a piece of me I didnāt want and now itās taking over your body. Can anyone fucking hear me
It's SO important to appreciate porn outside of how horny it makes you. Appreciate the years it takes to develop the skills to make & the bravery it takes to post it & the creator's unique style & the consistency of the artist's posts & the time it takes to make. And this goes for all kink art like drawings & writing & videos & audio & roleplay & photography. It goes for professional productions & indie creators & strangers on Tumblr. And there's SO MUCH I missed in this post too. Just you HAVE to think about porn outside of the framework of how much you get off to it or else you'll never be normal about it. There I said it. Goodnight.
This is by far my most popular post and I like to imagine that at least one person who saw and agreed with the post decided to click onto my blog to see my concepts and what I'm about and then promptly clicked off
What if giving birth was as typical as using the bathroom. Like āExcuse me a minute, Iāve really gotta go give birthā or āI hope thereās a delivery room close by, or Iām gonna drop this kid right here!ā ā¦That would be silly I think. But also hot
I get pregnant, but I'm pretty quiet about my raging pregnancy kink - of course I am. If people know I'm only having a baby for sexual gratification, what will they think of me?
My roommate, on the other hand.... He's not so lucky as to be able to hide it. We never discuss it, but as I start to grow and fill out, it's obvious it's affecting him. If it wasn't clear enough from his stuttered "no, thank you" when I ask if he wants to feel a kick or the way he gets cagey when I talk about symptoms, it IS obvious from all the boners I see him shifting to hide around me.
Honestly, I need a good fuck too - I should just come out and say it. But it's so fun to find excuses to press my belly up against him, to dress intentionally slutty when we're chilling around the apartment, to moan and groan whenever the baby kicks about how big and tight I'm getting. One time he even dismissed himself from a movie we were watching, and I heard him jacking off in his bedroom.
I'll sleep with him. Eventually. After I've had my fun.
I think my roommate is fucking with me. I tried really hard to be respectful of her pregnancy even though I have a raging pregnancy kink, but as time goes on, she keeps acting more and more out of character...
Like, she always used to dress pretty conservatively, but now she's always in booty shorts and crop tops. Maybe she just doesn't want to buy a whole maternity wardrobe, but I accidentally opened up an Amazon package for her and it was a multipack of little cropped T-shirts, and she's been wearing them nonstop since.
And she was in this maternity yoga class that she loved during her second trimester, but now she's in her third, she always does yoga in the living room. Maybe she just doesn't want to drag herself to the studio?
The physical contact is what's most suspicious, though. She keeps "brushing past" me so that her belly scrapes against me, but there's always so much room for her to pass. Or when she chooses to sit on the spot on the couch directly next to me and slowly "sinks" into the middle of the couch until we're touching.
It's getting hard to hide my hard-ons. I should probably say something, but on the off-chance she's not doing it on purpose, I don't want it to stop. Total boner fuel.
one funny thing about egg-producing genitals is that you almost never see them doing anything external. like, yeah, you want those things deposited inside, right, of course. you never get an ovipositor cumming on your face or lower back or something. it would kinda look silly, like you spilled tinned beans all over, little things sat there in their goop pathetically sliding away
I know you said your belly feels like itās been slowly growing since you woke up, and that you think you may have just felt a kick, but you gotta appear in courtā¦ itās jury duty, youāll get in trouble if you skip outā¦ donāt worry itāll probably only be a couple hours
Queen who plays around with the wrong servant boy at the wrong time and ends up pregnant. The king knows it's not his - it couldn't be his - and that would probably be more of a problem if he didn't find it so damn hot that she's carrying a bastard.
He fucks her good and hard, just the way she needs it, while telling her what a slut she is for getting knocked up with some commoner's child and how he ought to put twins in her next time just to show who's in charge. She would feel more humiliated if it weren't the best sex of her life.
She notes that the king didn't fire the servant boy this time, and hopes he'll still be here when she's ready to have a child next...
Imagine minding your own business, going for a walk in a forest and getting taken by aliens. Your returned with a massive pregnant belly and have to awkwardly waddle your way out of the forest.
As you waddle your hips crack and widen, your spine curving and pushing your belly out more. Before you exit the forest you realize... your pregnant, you werent pregnant when you went in. How are you going to explain this at work tomorrow?
God, I love my friends but their sense of humor honestly sucks so bad.
All of them give me so much shit for being slightly to the wrong side of vanilla and then this is the kind of gift I get for my birthday.
An 8 inch long, realistically colored, silicon imitation of a cock. More precisely a ābetter-than-fantasy Werewolf Dick to have you HOWLING at the moonā as I can clearly read along the side of the box.
I feel my face heat up, remembering the howls of laughter from everyone in attendance at my party the previous night. That obviously wasnāt what the box was referring to, but it was effective nonetheless.
Regardless of the public humiliation, I had been thinking about the fake cock ever since Iād realized what it was. A knotted dildo had very seriously been on my toy wish list. I should be thankful that this was a useful gag gift but the mortification had yet to die down enough to appreciate that.
With it now in my hands, out of its garish box, I could feel the need in my groin grow into a less ignorable situation. I want it in me so bad that Iāve been wet since the party.
Honestly, itās not even that intimidating of a size, just about 9 inches long, the extra few inches more than average being home to the tennis-ball-sized mass just above the flared base. Iād taken larger dicks than this and walked away with no pain, so Iām confident this should be a cake walk.
I start by touching myself, picturing a vaguely buff, hairy, aggressive man who looks ready to tear me to shreds. Maybe I picked him up from a bar, not knowing heās closer to a feral stray than an acceptable one night stand. Or maybe he found me in the woods, vulnerable and alone. I think about him smelling me and knowing that Iām fertile. In my mind, heās already hard and desperate to rut into me. My fingers slide deep into myself right away because my imaginary werewolf isnāt the only one whoās desperate.
If anyone were here to see it Iād be embarrassed about how wet I already am. Iām practically gagging for it, on my back, legs spread, and dripping wet. Thankfully I can just enjoy that this preparation wonāt take long at all.
I press the tip of the dildo into me and shudder in anticipation. I clench a little around nothing, very ready to have him in me.
He would want me all at once. He wouldnāt wait for any signs that Iām ready.
I shove the cock into all the way up to the knot and moan at the immediate relief. The stretch is the perfect answer to my need. I can feel the knot right up against me, not yet inside but burning with the potential to lock in place.
I piston the dildo out and back in, again and again and again. I can feel the ridges of the silicon sliding in, my pleasure building higher with everything thrust. The fantasy wolf in my mind is bent over me, growling into the crook of my neck. My hand tries to imitate his cock rutting into me with an insatiable desire to get deeper.
One hard stroke pushes the knot inside and I cry out in a half yelp half groan. The new stretch burns momentarily but the silicon puts pressure directly where I need it. I push hard on the base, urging smaller jagged thrusts into me.
My hips jump up and I can almost feel the fake cock throbbing in time with my body. I think about the werewolf with his teeth on my jugular, dangerously undecided between tasting my life blood and breeding me.
Iām so close to coming, and begin to reach over for a vibrator to really drive this orgasm home, when I feel a real twitch from the dildo buried in me. I freeze, having been fairly sure that thereās no mechanism for something like that.
It moves again, undeniably not a movement of my own, and I whimper at the overfull sensation. Fuck, it feels amazing.
The knot, I realize all at once, is growing thicker. I try to pull it out to examine this part of the toy a little closer but the extra circumference and my nervous clenching have it stuck inside of me. Itās tied, I realize, both wildly turned on and concerned in equal measure.
A slight surge wider presses the knot directly into me in the best way possible and I roll my hips up involuntarily. The iron clench of me around the dildo seems to provoke another big twitch, and this time it comes with a hot, wet sensation.
It was cumming inside of me, I could feel it cumming inside of me.
I try to sit up and reevaluate whatās happening but the dildo is twitching and pressing into a highly pleasurable spot in me. Each time it does, a haze of white hot gratification builds in my lower stomach, and fighting the process quickly becomes less of a priority. One powerful twitch more and I feel my body seize up, releasing all at once as I thrust up onto the gushing cock.
My vision grays out and I distantly hear myself loudly letting out a broken moan. The waves hit me as the dildo releases in me over and over again, powerful and unceasing.
Between overwhelming zaps of pleasure, I become aware of a weight on my hips. My hands rise to my lower abdomen and feel a soft mass of belly that wasnāt there before. The dildo begins moving again and my body is pulled back into the wracking orgasm.
It feels like hours but canāt possibly be more than a few minutes when I can concentrate on the real world again. My eyes look down and my little belly has grown into a not so little belly. It arches up off my hips as if I were pregnant, but instead of firm it remains malleable, filled with nothing but cum.
With that thought an aftershock pulses through me and my hips give an ineffective jolt upwards. Ineffective because my body doesnāt end up moving at all, with what feels like 20 extra pounds weighing it down.
My hands trace over the tight skin of my stomach and I realize that the dildo is still in me, tying me shut for the cum to stay in me as long as possible.
Oh god, the gallons of werewolf cum will be in me as long as possible. Me, who is not on any form of birth control. Me, who is probably already impregnated with the most number of werewolf pups possible.
Me, who feels like another round sounds like a good idea if I could get even bigger than I am now.
"Ah, try not to be too down about this, Peni. On the bright, being at this point means we skipped some of the rougher partsābelieve me, it can get a LOT. Plus, you got that boyfriend of yours to help out, right?"
"Uh, yeah, sure...but it's not like he's expecting me to show up super pregnant like this out of nowhere. And no offense, Dr. Storm, but you realize I have a mech, that isn't exactly roomy, to pilot, and college courses to worry about? Not exactly an ideal time for becoming a mom."
"I'm sure you'll be able to work it out! Spider-people like yourself have a knack for getting out of sticky situations, from what I've heard. And, hey, if you need any help at all, I'm always here, from one mother to another soon to be!"
"Gee, thanks...(guess it's the least you could do since it's kinda you fault we're like this.)"
~
Listen, in dealing with both timeline shenanigans AND multiverse shenanigans, something like this would have been bound to happen sooner or later. Of course, had Peni knew her trip to the Baxter Building would have resulted in her and Sue gaining much more maternal figures, she probably wouldn't have procrastinated on her coursework like this. Sue seems to be taking this a bit better, having been a mother twice over herself already, but perhaps this experience is unintentionally fueling some disconnect for what the younger hero may be dealing with...
First time ever getting a 3D comm from the ever lovely Zenny on Discord! Super happy with how this came, especially with the alt camera angle. I was originally planning to just have their base costumes, but I thought matching colors would be cuter, so Peni is in her 'Blue Tarantula' fit while Sue has on her First Steps costume. Honestly, this came out so good might go back for more...after all, who knows who else might have been affected by whatever got these two pregnant...
I had promised myself that I wouldnāt let this pregnancy change me. Not the strong, slim body Iād worked so hard for and not my coveted schedule of hard work and interesting hobbies. I would find a way to maintain my life and my body, and I would not alter what makes me, me.
The first thing I let go were my clothes.
Shortly after Iād decided to continue with my pregnancy, I started to lose the extra room in my tops. My tender chest began to bloat and then continue with growing over the first month. With the doubling of my cup size came the halving of my wardrobe choices.
This trickled down my body, my hips expanding outwards and my thighs thickening. It took maybe two months for me to give up my fight against the numbers on my scale, and give my body to the process of growing this child.
By the end of the first trimester I could no longer fit into my loosest pair of jeans, and my sweatpants were beginning to feel tight around my ass and thighs like leggings. Looking at myself in the mirror, I didnāt look pregnant yet but the pregnancy was taking its toll. The smallest amount of fat was beginning to collect around my waist, but the majority was filling out my lower body in preparation for carrying this baby for the next 6 or so months.
The next few weeks saw the beginning of this growth. My little paunch began growing outwards, and each day I imagined that my hips had widened a little more. I was losing my slim and athletic silhouette inch by inch.
It felt like I had blinked and my belly had grown to fill both my hands. And again, two weeks later, beyond even that. At the doctor I found out why, that I had two babies growing in me, changing me into a better carrier. The twins grew rapidly, so that my belly edged into my lap before the third trimester even started.
The morning I got up and failed to stand at first was when I decided to halt my hobbies. How could I attend any kind of athletic event when even getting up was a challenge?
I had to rock myself forward and back a few times before I had the momentum to push myself up and out of bed. I fell back thoughtlessly into a stance with my belly tilted up, one hand supporting it from below and the other behind my back. I took a deep breath and knew that this was just a part of carrying a child, and I would not let this take away my pre-pregnancy life for any longer than was necessary.
My pregnant belly grew despite my tenuous grip on independence. As month eight approached it grew beyond ālargeā and into the realm of āenormousā. I tried to keep as active as possible, going on outings outside to keep up my cardiovascular fitness. I would hardly make it to the end of my driveway before I was breathing heavily, both arms propping up the giant mound of my belly.
Wearing my loosest fitting long sleeve shirt in the cool weather did very little to protect the skin of my mid-drift, as the fabric crept up to rest above my belly as I moved haltingly forwards. Each step became less of a stride and more of a stagger as a struggled to make my way around the block. I waddled to the best of my ability, one foot swinging with my large hips and enormous mass followed by another halting step.
Even with my legs spread wide by my bare stomach I could feel my thickened inner thighs rub against each other.
The harshness of each step as I waddled farther from my home emphasized the baby weight Iād been gaining in my body. My ass jolted and shook with each ponderous step.
āHow pregnant I must look right nowā I mused to myself, before my attention was drawn entirely to the strain in my back. I was struggling to get in enough air with the growing mass of my womb pressing up into my lungs. My arms, back, and legs ached with the fight to carry the weight jutting out in front of me and dragging me down. I had to turn back early from that walk.
The ninth month had me nearly on bed rest. My rocking back and forth to leave bed was no longer working as well, as my enormous belly rested entirely along the tops of my legs, out to my knees, and did not allow my upper body further forwards. I had to shimmy from side to side until I rested on the edge of my bed before pressing the weight of my heavy body up and off of the bed.
Waddling from there to the kitchen was another long task. I frequently had to rest with a hand thrown up against the wall, breathing hard, my other hand desperately trying to keep my full womb from dragging me down to the floor.
My hips and waist had outgrown my table armchairs, and so to eat I had to balance my breakfast plate on top of my big belly. One day, when I had made the mistake of grazing my ever-growing chest with the plate as I set it down, I quickly felt a wetness saturate the front of my shirt. I had begun lactating, and my milk was soaking through the fabric of my top.
I sat there feeling miserable, I was double what I weighed before and my body was enormously grown into a blimp. My hips had widened to accommodate the load and were more than ready to bear children. Thick fatty padding covered my ass, hips, and waist. My enormous chest was full to bursting with creamy milk, now dripping down my side.
And more than all that, my enormous belly dominated my body. It was laughably huge and seemed heavier than it should be. It edged out over my knees, having grown larger and longer than my thighs before bulging out to the sides, packed full with babies.
I felt like a pregnant cow, hardly fit to stand out in the field, just waiting to give birth. I certainly was producing milk like one. Thoughts like these were becoming more common with more situations like this. Each one sent a new electric feeling through me that I wasnāt sure I liked.
āIāve blown up like a blimpā
āI can hardly move with this huge bellyā
āIāve been thoroughly bredā
Each of these thoughts added to a heat in my center, and I could feel myself growing wetter.
āI canāt see my lower bodyā
āIām growing these babies so wellā
āI wonder if I will be bigger next timeā
The last thought gave me pause. Next time? Enjoying this was one thing but planning to be bred again was not something that I thought I wanted. The unending growth and the loss of mobility were things I hated. The more I thought about it the more turned on I became.
To be like this, over and over again? To grow and grow without end, having as many babies as I could? My body expanding outwards even more, belly crowded with two, three, even four babies at a time?
I felt my hips involuntarily grind up against the weight of my huge belly.
Maybe that was a future I could get used to. It almost seemed inevitable now.
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