current scenario trapped rotating in my mind like a microwave of filthy fantasies is scissoring another girl in labor while i'm also in labor. the night wasn't supposed to go this way, we were having far too much fun touching up each other's extremely pregnant bodies to truly take notice of what was occuring inside our own. as things get more and more heated, our own internal turmoils escalate in tandem. we should've known better, we were way too far along in our pregnancies to be messing around like this, but we were both in too deep. rubbing our aching, contracting bumps together as our hands run crazy along each other's naked gravid bodies. we weren't expecting to give birth tonight, so we can only find ways to improvise coping with the pain. might as well have a little fun with it too, no? she's on top of me as best as she can be, our low, tense, oh so tight bumps colliding as she sloooooowlyyyyyy grinds her sobbing cunt against mine. she needs this as much as i do, evident by our synced up groans of pain and pleasure, synced up contractions, and how harshly she's grinding me into the bed. it's driving me crazy, her and the baby. she'll pause occasionally, squeeze the sheets and grit her teeth as a wave of pain overtakes her, and i'll try my best to soothe her with my words. when it's my turn to cramp up though? she doesn't care. she's fucking me like her life depends on it. both our babies are coming down fast, but that won't stop us, not until we physically can't stop our bodies from pushing against our wills. our lips bulge terribly, fat heads just barely tucked away behind them, and on the verge of our orgasms, she collapses onto her back. she can't take it anymore, and neither can i. with our legs still entangled, pussies just centimeters apart from touching, we grip each other's hands push, hard. each push tips us closer to our climaxes, until we both cum ourselves into a crown. it's a scream fest on the bed as our heads are thrown back, too deeply in labor to readjust into more efficient birthing positions. and we stay like this for hours.
Another roleplay turned story between myself and @allkindsofpreg. This one went on for quite a while, so I've decided to split the story up into a few different parts whilst I edit it and make it readable. Please enjoy part 1.
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It’s 6am and you’re laid in bed fretting. The wedding was today. The alarm was due to go off in an hour, and soon I - your husband - would wake up. The wedding was for your childhood best friend. She had been your maid of honour. You couldn’t return the favour thanks to finding out about the thing which is currently taking up the majority of your line of sight - the 38 week along, twin filled bump.
You had worked out the dates between you and you both didn’t know if you’d be sporting the worlds biggest watermelon or if both arms would be filled with gurgling bundles of joy by the time of the wedding… turns out the former.
“So here we are” you announce quietly to yourself, trying not to wake me. Your hands cradling either side of your bump. “Just got to get through today and you can come anytime after that… sooner the better”
Your plea was answered by a flurry of kicks and pokes from the two babies you carried within you. It still brought a smile to your face.
Your eyes looked up to the wardrobe with the 2 sets of clothes hanging up. My nicely pressed suit and your dress - you had tried it on last week and to say it was snug was an understatement. The size of the bump stretched it out to almost obscene proportions but perhaps that is because your bump was at almost obscene proportions in itself.
I stir and wake to see your eyes open. “Morning gorgeous” I slurred in my sleepy state. “Looking forward to today?”
“These were supposed to be out by now,” you grumbled half-heartedly, scooping your hands under the massive mound of your belly. “Twins always come early—isn’t that what everyone says? Why haven’t they come early?”
I chuckled, giving the top of the bump a little pat. “You’ve just given them such a nice, comfy home, so why would they want to leave?”
You grimaced. “Well if they don’t leave on their own, they may soon be evicted.”
“She didn’t mean that,” I cooed, soothing a hand over your misshapen mound. We both knew you would never voluntarily go for a C-section, despite the insistence of the impatient doctors, but that would have been more for their convenience. However, having various limbs that now seemed permanently lodged in your internal organs was less than ideal. “What’s really bothering you?”
You glanced again at the dress on the hanger, and then at the shoes on the floor below it. “I’m not looking forward to getting into that thing again.” The material was stretchy, but designed to be form-fitting. It had been cute and showed off the bump nicely and at the time had seemed like there was plenty of room to grow. But that was almost two months ago now and you weren’t entirely confident that the stitching would hold up against the twins’ current size.
“I can help with that,” I said, kissing your cheek before jumping out of bed to run help you get up. You may have muttered something about it not being polite to move with such speed and agility in front of an obscenely pregnant person, but you wouldn’t have been able to get vertical, much less all the way to your feet, otherwise.
The arms went in no problem, but then the fabric stayed bunched up in a pile on top of your stomach. I was able to find the hem, but pulling from the bottom was putting too much strain on the taut material; instead, I had to start at the top and sort of unroll it around your body like a potter pulling clay. It got a little dicey right around the peak of the bump and over your belly button, but once past that the rest fell into place against your body more easily.
When you inspected yourself in the full length mirror, your body looked slightly different in the dress than it even had last week—lower, and even more pronounced, almost as if… “I think my belly’s dropped.”
“If you want the truth of it… I think that happened last week” I mentioned casually. Looking up I see you giving me a death stare.
“What… I like to look at my sexy wife” I say, smiling a wide, beaming smile.
“Whale… maybe” you say with a pout.
“Nonsense. You’re glowing. I mean it may be the glow of a small sun considering how big the belly is…” I say, as you give me a playful swat “but I can’t help but be awed by how beautiful it is.”
“Beautiful, schmutiful” you retort “you don’t have to carry it around.”
“Indeed” I grin, and you know what’s coming next “but when you climb on top of me and bounce, you know I love you resting the weight of it on me.”
The kiss I leaned in for was met and returned as you wince and pull away after a moment. I look a little concerned and you brush it off. Joy of Braxton hicks contractions - another thing you’ll be glad to see the back of.
I get dressed myself as you start your slow plod to the kitchen to prepare breakfast, though your retreating ass was met with a playful slap as you squeezed past me, your popped out belly button rubbing against my own skin “I can’t wait to be able to walk without bumping into anything within 3 feet of me” you grumble as you trudge away.
Cooking had been a struggle for months now. It’s impossible to bend down to retrieve a pan or rummage through the cabinets, You have to turn sideways to reach anything in the fridge, and heaven forbid you try to use the stove. You usually keep it simple in the morning—maybe some toast and juice—but this place is well stocked and it’s going to be a long day and with the babies so low, your stomach actually has some room to hold food in it.
You manage to get some bacon in a skillet and prep some eggs to cook in the grease after it’s done. Chopping the fruit is a little more challenging. Normally you could sort of spread your legs and lean forward to reach the cutting board, but the dress was too tight for that.
I come downstairs in the middle of your third attempt, smirking a bit at your attempts at manoeuvring, but it falters when you see me grimace and wrap an arm beneath my stomach.
“Hey, you alright?” I ask, gingerly taking the knife still clutched in your other hand and helping you stand back upright.
“Fine, fine,” you shrug out of my grip to pull the bacon out of the pan. Then, pouring in the eggs and avoiding eye contact, “Just some more Braxton hicks.” You could almost feel my eyes raking you over, assessing.
“Aren’t they usually gone by now?” I ask, concern evident in my voice.
“Maybe the babies are protesting this freaking straight jacket of a dress,” you mumble. It’s so tight, I could see every movement the twins make and the nub of your popped belly button is clearly defined at the peak of your mountainous belly. I come up behind you and lace my fingers together at the bottom of your stomach, pulling up and relieving some of the pressure on your spine and hips. The noise you make in response is not one you hear often outside the bedroom.
“Careful,” I say with a chuckle, leaning down to nibble your neck just below your ear. “Keep sounding like that and I may just have to undo all the hard work we just put in to get that dress on you.”
You lean into my touch, your hand reaching back to hold the back of my neck, pulling me closer. “You’d have to—“ you gasp when my tongue flicks out against your skin, “cut it off.”
The mood is dampened when your stomach tightens again, which I could feel with the hands I still had on your stomach, and you sigh.
“I’ll cut up the fruit,” I offer as you turn your attention back to the eggs.
With two of us at the task, breakfast was done fairly quickly, and soon we were sat at the table. Watching you sit down sideways on the chair and swing your whole body around due to not being able to shuffle in after pulling the chair out to accommodate your belly had become quite a cute ritual.
Soon we were joined by the cat who sensed food was on the go and wanted her share.
We’d never really had thoughts of having a big family, but with thoughts of 2 coming at once seemed to have awoken whatever maternal instincts you once had buried and we had gained a cat and 2 future babies shortly after finding out we were expecting twins.
I scratched the cat behind the ears as she let out a loud purr and talked to her as if she would understand me: “You take care of yourself little Sparkle. We’ll have someone come in to top your food up tonight but we won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon.’
Not sure if the cat understood or what, but she let out an inquisitive ‘mewp’ sound.
“Hope the other 2 little ones will be as self sufficient as this one, just stick food in a bowl and leave them a box to pee in”
You managed a giggle over a spoonful of food as I threw a small portion on the floor and the cat headed towards it sniffing ready to attack the morsel I’d left.
‘Hoo’ you breathed out. The effort of preparing and eating had left you out of breath. At least you hoped it was the case. As time has gone on this morning you had other thoughts playing at the back of your mind.
The large plate of food somehow made you feel even more big and bloated. You leaned back in the chair and folded your hands where they rested at the top of your belly.
“I’m never getting up.” It was both a whine and a plea — you didn’t want to get up, but didn’t think you could even if you wanted to.
“You know I’d be happy to get you out of those clothes—“
“Not as happy as me.”
“—but I think you’d regret missing the wedding.”
“But why does it have to be so far away, in the middle of nowhere? It’s so far out that there’s not even GPS and we had to print out paper directions. PAPER!” You grabbed at the stack of pages on the table and waved them around in the air for emphasis.
“Good thing we know how to read.” I kissed away the petulant pout on your lips before pulling away. “I’ll go get the bags and put them in the car, then I’ll come back for you.”
“Wait! I’ve got to pee.”
I wanted to roll your eyes — you always had to pee, and we’d probably have to make a few stops along the way too — but the process would take you more than a few minutes and I figured we might as well get started now.
When I dropped you off at the toilet, you realized you were going to have to work the material up your legs yourself. It was a struggle in the small space — you were glad you’d decided to wear nothing else underneath, otherwise it would have been impossible — but you were proud of yourself for managing.
I was waiting at the door when you came out and cocked an eyebrow at the hem of the dress, which was now resting almost profanely high up my thighs.
“That’s as far down as I could reach,” you explained, tugging unsuccessfully again to pull it down.
I came to your rescue and got it down to a respectable length. “Well at least the belly hides most of the R rated parts.”
Despite pulling the seat back and giving your legs and stomach the most room to spread out, you still overflowed in the passenger seat, and the seatbelt cut uncomfortably into your hips. I reached a hand across the console to hold yours, you gripped it tight as another practice contraction gave you a glimpse into just how much this drive was going to suck.
“They better never get divorced,” you mumbled.
I burst into laughter as you switched the cars AC down by another few degrees. I looked to the side to look you over and was amazed to see just how much of your lap was taken up by your belly when sitting.
“Give it another year or so and you can tell war stories to these two whilst she’s sitting with a lap full of belly and you’re nursing 2 little ones” I wink at you.
You gasp as your hand moves to your belly as you announce “I think they’re fighting” - I catch a glimpse of a lump poking out of your belly before hastily returning my eyes to the road.
“Hope that isn’t a sign of things to come” I giggled as you lay back in your seat and let out an exasperated sigh knowing fine well that being squashed up in the seat is what’s causing the babies to be so temperamental.
“Give me your hand” you ask as I offer it up. You grab it, squeeze as hard as you can and let out a shrill cry.
“Anything I can do to help?” I ask, sensing your growing frustration.
“You could have drilled me long and hard before we left, broke my waters and got this lead weight out from below my boobs!” The sound certainly cemented the ‘growing frustration’ hypothesis.
We’d been on the road an hour with another 2 more to go, but I sensed it was time for a rest.
“Let’s pull over, stretch our legs? Get you stood up?” I offered.
Admittedly you brightened up at the thought but managed a grumbling “not the only thing I want stretching right now” comment under your breath as the car pulled into a parking bay.
We didn’t need fuel yet, so the stop was purely for your benefit.
“Anything you want me to get you?” I asked after the monumental task of getting me out of the car as you shuffled toward the restrooms.
“I dunno—something spicy? Pineapple? Dates? Anything that might get these two to their own rooms outside my body as soon as the wedding is over?” They already felt so low in your hips, you were sure your waddle looked ridiculous, like you were walking while trying to keep a balloon between your thighs.
“We do still have to get back to the house first, you know!” I called after you.
We weren’t even halfway through this first car ride and everything already ached — you definitely weren’t looking forward to the return trip.
The dress had ridden up again in the car, so it didn’t take much to slip it up the rest of the way to pee. One of the twins kicked your bladder and it was a good thing you were already on the toilet.
“Settle down in there,” you scolded lightly, pressing my hand against what was probably a bum protruding against the wall of your stomach. As if in protest, another tightening sensation caused you to huff out partially in exasperation, but also in a bit of pain. “Ouch, that one hurt,” you said in admonishment. “Guess you two are about as uncomfortable as I am, huh?” Another kick, this one up near your kidney, caused you to wince. “Almost. Maybe.”
I was waiting on the other side of the door to help you adjust your clothes, and when we got back in the car I presented you with an assortment of sweet and savory options — including more than one whose flavour was described as “bold” or “flaming”— You looked over at me with such adoration and the empathy in my eyes nearly brought tears to yours.
“Hey, hey, what is it?” I asked, swiping at the tear with the pad of my thumb, but you just shook your head.
“Hormonal tears. I just—I love you so much, you’re so good to me. To us..” I reached out a hand to your belly as you placed one on top of mine. “You should probably get used to this sight—I was always a mess at weddings even without being massively pregnant.”
“Good thing I also got these then” I say as I hand you a travel pack of tissues, 5 small packs in a wrapper. You peel the first one out of the pack, open it and dab your eyes.
“That better?” I asked.
“Much” came your reply.
We set off again enjoying the road snacks and thankfully next hour went quickly. You complained of a few more aches and pains, but stopping after another hour for a stretch and pee break helped, until we got to the third and final stop - we decided to stop about 20 minutes away from the venue to put fuel in the car to save the rapid stop on our return trip, and you never know - the chances of meeting a queue at the wedding venue as the need to pee came back was much more likely.
I left you to do your own thing as I stood by the car and watched the price tick up on the meter as we refuelled.
I walked inside to pay and met you at the entrance to the toilets, intending to tug down your dress again, but you looked white as a sheet as you came through the door.
“What’s up?” I enquired, concern in my voice.
You leaned in close so as not to announce it to the entire building (as unlikely as that was) and whispered “I lost my mucus plug.”
The concern in my voice deepened as I lowered my volume to match yours. “Are you sure?”
You threw up your hands, slightly in exasperation and slightly on the verge of panic. “I mean, I think so! I’ve never exactly had a mucus plug to lose before, so this is kinda new territory for me.”
“Okay. This is okay,” I rationalized. “Doesn’t necessarily mean you’re going into labour, right?” I didn’t wait for you to answer. “It could still be days, or even weeks from now.” I noticed you giving me a death glare and amended, “Okay not weeks, definitely not weeks.”
“Let’s just get going so we can get this over with,” you said in what some might consider a whine.
I wanted to point out that getting to the wedding earlier would not, in fact, have any impact on when it ended. “Are you sure? Because we can turn back now if —“
“I really cannot do another three hours in the car, babe.” You pressed your hands into your lower spine and stretched. “Honestly, I’m not even sure I can do another 20 minutes.”
“Should we just strap you to the roof, then?” I asked, a playful smile on my face.
“Like you could even lift me up there,” you shot back. But then I moved as if I was about to prove you wrong and carry you bridal style out there so you jinked out of reach. “Fine, fine,” you relented, “but let’s not give these people a show now, yeah?”
I was still smiling as I helped lower you back down into the seat. You held onto me an extra few seconds as your belly tightened again. This one felt stronger than the others… but that was probably just your imagination.
The last part of the drive thankfully passed without incident, as we pulled up to the gates of a country manor, I got out, buzzed into the intercom, confirmed who we were, then drove down to the car park.
To say ‘no expenses were spared’ could be an understatement, this place looked luxurious. We caught sight of the marquee set up for the wedding - you making a quip about hoping that you wouldn’t sink into the ground when you sat down on the chair, which I brushed aside - you were still the svelte beauty I married, I grinned - just with a bit of temporary extra baggage. Thankfully that got a smile out of you.
The reception area was somewhat busy, but we got checked in, got our room keys and were just about to set off to drop our bags off when you got a tap on the shoulder.
You turned to see another of your old school mates - a lady called Georgia, and her husband Mike. Glancing down you notice the swell of a growing baby bump - probably around 5-6 months though - nowhere near the gargantuan twin filled mound you were currently supporting with both your hands under it.
“Oh my god. I didn’t think you’d be here, thought you’d be in the sleepless nights and newborn crying new mommy bliss by now. How are you doing babe?” She sounded sincere - you two had been keeping up to date in messages and text but hadn’t met face to face since she announced her pregnancy. You realised it had been 2 weeks since any contact, and she just figured you were too busy with twin newborns to say anything.
You supposed you’d have to get used to those types of questions — many of the people here were mutual friends or at least acquaintances and it was no secret that you would have had a place in the wedding party if it weren’t for the pregnancy. No one really expected you to show up without two newborns in your arms, especially with how big you already were at the wedding shower, and you was pretty sure some were even hoping you wouldn’t be here, that any state you showed up in would take attention away from the bride. But your best friend was nothing but excited to have you and your planet of a belly here for her big day.
“Sleepless nights, yes. Just no newborn bliss quite yet,” you sighed mournfully, cupping your hands beneath your belly for emphasis.
“Oh your poor thing,” Georgia cooed. She stood next to you to compare her bump next to yours — she was taller and only just brushing up against her third trimester, but the difference was still staggering. “My back aches just looking at you.”
You winced as another Braxton hicks contraction rippled through you, and Georgia put a sympathetic hand on your waist.
“Maybe you should have a seat,” she said to you. Then, to me, “You should take her to sit down. There’s some tables over near the open bar.”
After shooing us in that direction, Georgia and her husband were off to mingle – you were jealous of how effortlessly she moved amongst the crowd — everyone seemed to be giving you a wide berth, and for good reason. We had stopped by the appetizer buffet and you nearly knocked over the watermelon swan and petit four tower before I finally put myself between you and the table and had you point at what you wanted.
You were looking forward to having a chair, but when we got over there the only tables were bar height, and you’d have had a time getting on one of those stools on a good day. Pretty sure you’d twist an ankle and flash half the room if you tried to do it now — if you could even physically do it now.
“I’ll find something—“ I began to say, but you shook your head.
“Just… help me with the belly?”
The table was actually tall enough that your stomach fit under it, and you were able to reach your plate of food as I stood pressed behind you, arms reaching around your front to pull your belly up against the weight of gravity.
I felt when the walls of your abdomen contracted, which wasn’t unusual anymore, but became concerned when I heard your soft groan, barely audible over the din of conversation.
You clamped onto my hand as you grit your teeth, blowing a long, slow breath out.
“Where is our room?” you whispered to me, as your second hand rubbed circles on your taught skin under the dress. “I feel like I’m making a bit of a scene here and want to move around.”
“Come with me” I say as I stuffed a vol au vent into my mouth and yanked our bag up from the ground.
Taking a glance at my watch, we have around an hour until the ceremony starts, so figure about 30-40 minutes until we need to leave to get our seats.
The receptionist took pity on us and we had a ground floor room just along the corridor, so guiding you along with a hand behind your back we scurried along, swiping our key card to the room and as we stepped in, our jaws dropped.
The room was gorgeous - a nice open fireplace, a wide jacuzzi bath easily big enough for the two of us and views out into the grounds.
“How the other half live” I mentioned, blowing a whistle as I took in the room. You looked flushed.
“Do you think we should go?” You asked… thoughts at how far things had moved on and how much the contractions were, to be blunt, hurting like crazy.
“I’m hoping we can do the ceremony, it’s only an hour or so for now then vanish.” I tapped at my phone “we’re about another hour from the nearest hospital… and presuming things don’t calm down once the chaos of the cramped drive has passed, we can go there and get you checked over before driving home?”
You honestly didn’t know if you wanted to commit to another two hours of suffering in silence, but you really did want to see your best friend get married and really didn’t want to let this amazing room go to waste.
“Maybe the contractions will ease up. I didn’t get much sleep and being in the cramped car for hours surely didn’t help,” you rationalized. Your eyes travelled longingly to the massive tub. “Maybe the water would help…”
“Probably would,” I said with a laugh. “Unfortunately, that thing will probably take longer to fill than we have before the ceremony starts.”
You stuck out your lip in a pleading pout. “But the babies are so heavy.”
“Hmm.” I eyed you up and down, studying you closely. “If it’s relief you want,” I bent down to whisper in your ear even though we were the only two in here, “I can make you feel good.”
You took my hand eagerly as I led you over to the equally massive bed, where I created a rough outline of your silhouette in pillows for you to nestle into. It took some rearranging to get everything both supported and accessible, but you were quite motivated to make it work, so we found a way.
You dress had already done half the work for us, and it didn’t take much for me to slide it up far enough to give my fingers access between your legs. We didn’t want to get too messy and dishevelled right before showtime, but god did you want more than just my fingers inside you.
You shivered and arched and grinned against my hand as it moved in patterns and rhythms that knew your body so well. “Please, I need—“ your request was cut off with a gasp as I curled my finger just right.
“I know what you need,” I said, smugly.
“Yes,” you said, both in confirmation and in praise. You were close, so close, when I suddenly pulled my hand away and you in turn released a very pathetic whine. But then, just as suddenly, I grabbed your ankles, pulling your ass to the edge of the bed and guided your legs to drape around me. You hadn’t even heard me undoing my fly zipper, but then you felt the head of my cock drift lazily, teasingly across your dripping slit. “Please,” you said again.
It was amazing how slick you were as I quickly slid into you, bottoming out the full length of my shaft as you gave an appreciative gasp.
We held hands as I used it as leverage to push and pull us together, our coming together with slap after slap of skin on skin, punctuated by gasps and heavy breathing from each of us.
The flurry of activity sent the 2 babies within your womb into a frenzy, as I watched lumps and bumps appear and vanish almost at random.
“I love you, you’re amazing. So sexy… so maternal, I feel so proud that you’re carrying these babies for me” I manage to grunt between thrusts.
Your legs manage to find their way behind me crossing and pulling me in.
I leaned forward and reached to your breasts. Whilst you were contained by your bra still, your nipples reacted and tried their hardest to rip through the fabric.
“Why the fuck do we need to remain presentable” I groaned. “I could do some wicked things to those nipples and make you scream”
“More. I need more of you,” you begged, despite plunging into you as far as possible. I pushed one of your knees out and back to the side, changing the angle and the leverage enough to startle a pleasured cry from your lips. “Yes, more!”
You had just enough mental faculties to pull down on the sleeves of your dress, freeing your arms and exposing your chest. The neckline was already low cut — or, rather, your breasts were so big and full that everything appeared low cut — so that only the bra remained in the way. In your haste to remove that as well, one of the clasps of the straps snapped, but at that moment you didn’t care. You thought you must have looked ridiculous, naked except for this band of stretchy fabric like a soft tourniquet around your bulging middle, but I didn’t seem to mind when I hungrily lowered my mouth to one of your breasts, attending to the other one with my hand.
As you struggled to hold back your impending climax — you didn’t want how good this felt to be over — you started rambling. “In a few hours, I could be laying like this again with our baby’s head between my legs.” I groaned and my next thrust came a little harder and faster than the last. “I’ll be whining and breathless then, too. You put such big babies in me, baby.” My hand automatically went to your stomach and my lips followed until they were met with fabric.
“I’m beginning to hate this damn dress,” I muttered, as you hummed in agreement. “I’m gonna tear it off you as soon as we’re home.” You had half a mind to test my resolve in waiting that long, but then my mouth found your other breast and the thought was lost. “Tell me more about how you’re going to get these babies out of you,” I muttered against your skin.
“I’m going to be so full. Filled from the inside out.”
“So full,” I echoed.
“Spread wide open for our babies. Gonna need to stretch.”
“I think I can help with that,” I said, changing angles again as you shuddered. “Are you—hng—are you close?”
“Almost,” you practically moaned in response — pretty sure one more well placed touch would send you over the edge. “Still waiting on that scream you promised me.”
My lips meeting your nipples caused you to buck your hips. A gentle breath and a lapping tongue, combined to cause sensations that you just simply couldn't resist. You squealed in pleasure. Still not quite the sound I was hoping for though.
"You're going to push so wide… so strong" I moaned with a mouth full of breast as I pushed your legs back and open. The fabric of the dress bunched around your middle crumpling even worse than it was before. The reverberations of my voice on your sensitive nub rippled through your body.
I grabbed your feet and pushed your legs back. You were exposed to me. My cock slipped over your mound, slick juices caught in your pubic hair. Another moan from you.
I was practically whispering "you will stretch so well baby". You nodded, and bit your lip. We met each other eye to eye as I finally left your nipple alone.
Your feet got placed on my shoulders as I towered over you. You were breathing hard and deep, panting. I was doing the same. With my free hands I cupped each breast as I lined up for a thrust with my hips. My head teasing your lips once more. You squirmed as I thrust in. You gasped, and before you could react, I squeezed with each hand, getting a gush of milky colostrum to slither down my fingers.
Another thrust and you were overwhelmed. I gasped as my own orgasm released, warm liquid seeping into you, and with that, you were done. Gasping, shaking, spent. You quivered. My hands continued to massage, much gentler this time, but with each squeeze you spasmed again. My cock stuck in you and I didn't move, I just let your quivering muscles hold on tight as I felt it pulse along the length, like you were attempting to milk me.
And there was the scream. It was beautiful. It was music to my ears. Then a gasp. Then fluid. A lot of fluid.
"Shit… looks like we may need to think about things happening sooner than expected after all."
It took several very long moments for your brain to sort out all the sensations of your body. There was tension, then pleasure, then sweet release. More release than just the wake of your spasming muscles. Add to that, everything was wet, and I was looking at you with mixture of excitement and anxiety.
“Well, it was your cock that put these babies in me; shouldn’t be surprised that it’s the thing also getting them out of me,” You said with a laugh, still coming down from the orgasm high.
“So this is it, right?” I wanted to confirm. “This is actually happening? Now?”
You wiggled your hips around, trying to see if you “felt” like you were in labour, but you felt much the same as it had for the last several weeks. Maybe even a little better, with the removed pressure of one of the amniotic sacs. “I mean, I think so.” As if to confirm, another contraction rippled its way through you. This position wasn’t ideal, and you grabbed your stomach and hissed in pain as I repositioned your legs to put less pressure on your spine.
“Okay,” you said when it was over. “Okay, should we—? We should leave, yeah?”
You frowned down at your current state — leaking from multiple places, hair and makeup a mess, dress not covering a damn thing. “Not like this, I’m not.” You reached out your hands as I helped heave you up. “Please get me out of this thing,” you said, tugging futilely at the fabric bunched even more tightly around your middle now that you were sitting up.
I actually did end up needing to cut you out of it, in the end, but you were glad to be rid of it. You’d brought a spare dress, but hadn’t wanted to wear it because the flowy material draped over your stomach making you look twice as big, which was saying something. It would have to do, though.
After helping you into the shower, and spending a few moments cleaning myself up a bit as well, I rushed out to the reception desk to tell them about the ruined sheets and ask about an early checkout.
You let the water wash away all the various bodily fluids and soothe you through another contraction, and by the time you stepped out I had made it back.
“They’ll take care of the bedding,” I said, wrapping a towel around your shoulders. “Room is non-refundable though.”
“Maybe we should get some use out of it, then.” I looked at you like you’d lost your mind, and you explained. “The ceremony will be over in, what, two hours, tops? First babies take forever, and I don’t want to miss it only to still be in labour tomorrow. Besides…” your gaze flicked to the large jacuzzi, “… I still really want to try out that tub.”
"Doesn't take much to persuade me" I smiled. "If you're happy, I'll put my apprehensions aside and go with what you want to do."
"Good." You had made your mind up. "You know what they say. Mother knows best. And I'm about to do it twice at once, that makes me the better than best."
I couldn't help but giggle. "That it does my dear, that it does." You wince and grab hold of my arm. "But I still suspect the real rulers will be the kids."
"We will be such soft touch parents won't we?" you huff out your breath, shaking your head gently as if trying to distract yourself from your own internal struggles.
"I'll call it now, I bet I say yes more than no in my life." I wrap your towel covered body in my arms and start to rub, trying to get you dried off. "Now… unless I'm mistaken, we have 15 minutes to get to our seat before the big event."
"Shit… lost track of time with everything that was going on." You discarded the towel on the floor, planning to tidy it up later. Taking the flowing dress from the travel bag, you waft it in the air, get rid of any odd wrinkle that was still there and pull it over your head.
It gave empire waist an understatement. An elastic strip caught under your breasts which pronounced the top curve of your belly all the more, and there was nothing under it to curve back down under your belly, so it looked like you were wearing a tent. Not the most flattering of maternity wear, but it was a miracle we could find the first dress, this was only meant to be a backup.
I took your arm and we stepped out of the room. "Slowly" you winced as you felt the tell tale sign of a contraction building. That was quick.
We got to the marquee after everyone else, with only around 5 minutes to spare. You felt eyes following you, or at least the bump, everywhere you moved. We found a seat at the end of one of the rows, and as you lowered yourself down to the seat with an audible groan, smoothing the dress over your bump so at least tucking it under it showed off the roundness of it. You glanced over and caught sight of Georgia, who waved, held up her phone and pointed at it. She looked down and tapped something as yours buzzed in your clutch bag.
Georgia sent you a text: “Nice to see you managed to make it, wondered where you got to. Guess the dress was a bit too restrictive?”
You texted her back: “Literally tore it off as soon as we got to our room.”
She snickered and sent another reply: “Not surprised. I don’t know how you got into it in the first place.” A pause, then another text after she studied my appearance more carefully. “Your hair’s different too. Why do I feel like you did more than change after the cocktail hour?”
Your smile turned devilish: “Well I didn’t say I was the one who tore my dress off…”
Georgia’s mouth popped open and we were sure she would have asked a dozen follow up questions, but the intro music started playing and they opened the doors for the wedding party to start down the aisle. The music was slow, but loud, and it covered up the involuntary huff you let out when another contraction took hold.
“Already?” I whispered into your ear when the hand you had on my thigh squeezed tightly. You nodded, and put my arm around your shoulders, letting you lean into me. “That was barely five minutes since the last one. Are you sure you don’t want to head to the hospital?”
“I am going to watch my best friend get married, even if it means having the babies right here in this seat.” Maybe it was just that important to you, but maybe it was the slightest bit of stubbornness and fear, but either way the pain was making you a tad cranky. “Sorry, babe,” you breathed, slumping against me when it finally passed. “I’m just not ready yet.”
I was amused by this admission, considering you were threatening a forced eviction this morning, just hours earlier, but I had the good sense not to mention it. “You’re the boss; I’ll follow your lead.”
Fifteen minutes and three more contractions went by and the line of people coming through the double doors still seemed endless.
“We don’t even know this many people,” I marvelled, “much less well enough to be part of the processional.”
“That’s what happens when you start having kids,” you joked — we had a few friends, but were totally content just spending time with each other. If anything, we were going to use the twins as an excuse to get out of social engagements as much as possible.
Finally, the melody switched and everyone stood on their feet for the bridal march. Well, everyone except you because you were fighting through another contraction, and me, because you had me in a death grip. Luckily the bride was taking her time, soaking in the attention, and by the time she got to our row you were breathing normally and I’d hefted you to your feet.
Her eyes lit up when she saw me and she gave a little wave. You returned it with two thumbs up and she rolled her eyes at your dorkiness. You tried to stand for the rest of the march, but it was taking forever so you eventually gave up and slid back down into the seat. Anyone who might have given you the side eye took one look at your huge globe of a stomach and immediately turned sympathetic.
“Alright,” you whispered to me when they’d finally reached the front and everyone else could take their seats, “now how long can it possibly take for them to say ‘I do’?”
"I really hope they'll be quick… I hate to say it, but this may have been a mistake." I was apprehensive, but knew that right now, there was nothing we could do without committing the ultimate faux pas and getting up to leave a wedding in progress.
You grabbed my hand and squeezed, tight. I looked over into you, and you shook your head. Your knee was bouncing in a nervous twitch. I'll admit it sent ripples through your belly and to your breasts, which I found incredibly sexy. I was conflicted between worry for you and enjoying your pregnant form - possibly for the last time.
I have no idea who the officiant was, but he was an old guy, must have been likely in his 80's. My heart sank when he seemed to be, to be frank, a bit doddery. We understood that the bridal party had chosen their own vows so it wasn't even that his experience would come to the forefront, he had to read out what the wedding party had written.
We progressed through with his - what seemed like - very slow-paced speaking, welcoming everyone here, saying we are here to join the husband in wife in marriage, how marriage is an institution that shouldn't be taken lightly. "Like childbirth" I hissed under my breath, I think you caught it, as your hand gripped that little bit tighter.
He flicked through the book he had prepared with the words, and following along with his finger so he doesn't lose his place, he reads out about how the bride and groom are best friends, want to be together, grow old together and make babies together. Pretty sure at that word more than a few eyes turned to you. I'm sure Georgia got a few glances as well.
We got to the part where they promised to love and laugh, and enjoy each other’s company - the whole love, honour and obey line in the olden days pretty much gone nowadays.
The next contraction took this time to decide to build. Your fingernails were digging into my hand to try and stifle any response. I saw you close your eyes, but not squeeze them closed, trying not to give away any obvious external clues. I hear you suck in a mouthful of air and hum under your breath. It was getting hard, I could tell.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we are about to enter into the legally binding part of the ceremony. If anyone knows if there are any reasons why these two should not be bound in matrimony, please let it be known now" came the voice of the officiant.
Oh. I’ve never been into hearing the encouragement on birth videos before. But I was so close and I just moaned and whimpered though my orgasm. I haven’t done that in months, but hearing so many people gently encouraging me to push and birth my baby I just couldn’t help but whine for them in gratitude
Imagine being stood in your bathroom, hands grabbing the wash basin as another contraction takes hold of your body, you scream out as the pain takes hold. At the peak of your contraction, you feel the urge to push. You haven't pushed yet but something just doesn't feel right. You reach under your bump, and between your legs, your baby girls head is sat perfectly in your opening. The urge to push becomes unbearable and instinctive, with one push your baby girl crowns between your legs, your vagina stretching widely around her head.
I want to be lying on my side with your 11 pound baby pushing through my cervix, slowly inching forward and opening me little by little. I want your baby to slip back in everytime a contraction ends. I want to whimper in frustration and pain as I push again but your baby slips back in. To be stuck on my side gripping my tight belly as I pant like a bitch in heat. As my puffy lips spread around your baby's fat head. I want to moan and scream and lean into each push. I want to do it twice over. After all, you gave me triplets.
**This clip is not mine, as seen by the original tag!**
Sometimes you have to scour the internet to find old content that existed before the great tumblr purge. I’ve had so many people reply/message me about the gifs I made from this that I can’t help but post the full video
Honestly I still remember finding tumblr for the first time and seeing this clip, that slow reveal to a tight, stretch-marked belly. Her little moans as she presses her hands against it. It has always been some of my favorite content here, and I’m happy that it will rotate again :)
Imagine being this big for a year. The weight pressing down on your sensitive pussy. Every time you sit down the pressure sends intense pain and pleasure through your clit. You get wet at nearly every movement and you waddle everywhere. Strangers are constantly asking if they can feel the kicks seen through the thickest of sweaters. I want to write an entire story about this.
