Peter Solarz
KIROKAZE
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
JBB: An Artblog!
taylor price
AnasAbdin
pixel skylines
⁂
DEAR READER
will byers stan first human second
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
blake kathryn
Discoholic 🪩
NASA
d e v o n
art blog(derogatory)
trying on a metaphor
Sade Olutola
we're not kids anymore.
seen from Italy
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seen from Australia
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seen from United States
seen from Indonesia
seen from Italy
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seen from United States
seen from United States
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@theprincessbeast
holy shit.. my tummy is gonna burst i’m so bloated.. fuck it’s so filled fuck 😵💫😵💫😵💫 i can’t stop wobbling if it’s so fucking heavy and solid now 🥴 waking up a big round piggy all bloated and huge because of last night’s stuffing or chug is absolutely intoxicating.. fuck i need an extra hand with my belly at this point..
holy fuck i’m so full 😵💫 all i’ve done the past 24 hours is stuff my face.. poor girl is such an achy mess 🥴 but im plotting so many big bloating feedings for today.. my piggy brain is too excited..
fuck my upper belly has grown incredibly fucking tight, but i’m gonna keep going for you 🥴 i’ll just sit here and continue with my feeding until i pop! 🤭 come give the belly a wobble for good luck
i am 8.5 months pregnant and could give birth any day now 🎀♀️💖
I wish I could have lost my virginity to you whilst you were pregnant <3
awww 💖 here are some gifs from a couple months ago i took but didnt post 🥰
noodles doodles ft. @lewdlemage grumpy noodle
The Australian film "Waiting," starring Noni Hazelhurst, who was VERY pregnant for a large part of the filming.
Being pleasured during labor is such a turn on for me just as much as hard labor is. Feeling pleasure through the contractions, your partner rubbing your clit in slow circles through them as you focus on that feeling instead of the pain. Their lips suckling your leaking tits when they start to ache. Their fingers curling slow inside as your baby moves through your birth canal, each orgasm helping them inch that much farther along. When you start to push, they're back on your clit, rubbing faster so that you feel only pleasure as your pussy lips start to bulge with the baby's massive head. Orgasming right when the baby shoots out, and remembering only pleasure, not pain, for your birthing experience.
imo the cutest part of giving birth is right before the head starts crowning n ur cunt looks all big n puffy n swollen keeping the new life inside u just out of sight ^^ stretched out from ur tummy to ur hole fulfilling ur purpose as a toy, heavy n hurting so bad but still feeling so good despite having to push hard in front of a room full of drs bc ur being such a good breeder bitch <3
(they/he)
The train lurches and I nearly lose my balance.
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.
I can't hide it anymore.
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.”
original gone but artist
when you talk to me on here re... hffh...
hahh...
remember this is who you're...
sorry i... need a minute...
okay now THIS is what i'm talking about
I want to be so well trained that I don't even need the ropes anymore. Just a look from you should be enough to make me drop to my knees and wait.
need a pretty little mutt who’s twice my size whom i can mess around with who lets me do whatever i want to him. collaring him and tugging him around just for my amusement, forcing my fingers in his mouth, manhandling him, everything to irritate him except he just eagerly lets me
arranged marriage or marriage of convenience and they don't want to force you to sleep in the same bed or even room as them so they're very respectfully saying goodnight before going to their quarters to fuck their fist while thinking about how relaxed you finally seemed after dinner that night
