river, 30, free use womb. side blog for birth and darker preg stuff. follows from @wave-god-river
cishets can follow here but be normal. put your age in your bio or you're getting blocked. also we are pro-abortion in this house
into: forced/coerced pregnancy and birth, vanilla birth, #noncon and dubcon, not knowing they're pregnant until going into labor, surprise twins, unassisted birth, medicalized birth (usually only in noncon contexts), medical experimentation, captivity, breeding farms, bioessentialism (non-transphobic), a smidge of #ageplay, giving birth in inconvenient or perilous situations, occasional orgasmic birth, egg preg, slime preg, trans pregnancy of all flavors
roommate watching me push out his babies while screaming “how could this happen?? i’m a virgin! i’m a virgin!!” while knowing he did this to me in my sleep
there’s something so sexy to me about not knowing you’re in labor and giving those first, naive, confused pushes. wondering why you’re feeling this urge. the brief moment of bewildered horror as you feel a huge weight shift down inside of you. there being no physical evidence that you’re giving birth yet, but just knowing deep inside your body that a baby is moving downwards, ready to make its inevitable entrance into the world.
One thing I love is when a birther who's covered in tattoos is screaming and grunting, unable to stand the pain of birth. Not because they're weak, but because of knowing that birth is just that hard and painful, immensely harder than sitting through dozens of tattoos. Maybe the birther thought they could handle it easily, thinking they had a high pain tolerance. But there's nothing more agonizing or tiring in the world.
Accidental pregnancies are sooo hot, ESPECIALLY if you don't know you're pregnant until you start to cramp so badly, you feel pressure in your pelvis and before you even have a chance to consider what's going on, you're crowning on a giant babies head. EVEN BETTER IF IT'S MULTIPLES.
I know I'll panic when the belly grows and I can't stop thinking about that I'll have no choice but to give birth if I just let it grow past a certain point. It is so hot and scary.
i have a breeding kink where i don't want to get pregnant.
i have a breeding kink where i want someone to hold me down and rape my holes over and over again, filling me with cum until i'm leaking. i want him to hear my begs for him to pull out, that i'm not ready to become a mother and it only results in him going harder and deeper.
"you'll be so sexy pregnant, don't you think?"
i have a breeding kink where he decides that instead of just making me pregnant, he wants me to be pregnant with no idea who the father is. i want him to call over his friends and tell them to rape me and fill me up again and again. load after load. until i'm full of all these unknown men's cum.
i have a breeding kink where the man who got me pregnant gets to keep me as his toy until my rape baby comes. he gets to use me whenever he pleases and however he pleases. if he wants me to suck him off in the middle of the street. use my huge tits to get him off.
i have a breeding kink where they keep the cycle going and i will never know a life where i am not pregnant or filled with a cock <3
Thinking about a middle-aged trucker who thought there wouldn’t be any consequences for pressing his fat pussy to every truck stop glory hole he came across.
For months, he’s assumed his beer gut growing rounder and firmer is a natural consequence of his fast food diet. Sure, the tight, oblong shape is a bit extreme, but it’s always looked bigger than it is beneath his surgically flat chest. And the aches and pains in his back and hips? Just inevitable results of years on the job.
Then he starts having abdominal cramps so bad that he barely makes it to the next truck stop to pull his rig over. As soon as he parks, he crawls out of the driver’s seat and curls into the fetal position on the thin mattress wedged in the back of the cab.
He manages a few hours of fitful sleep before waking drenched in cold sweat. Clutching his massive, rock-hard gut, he groans and grunts through an agony that can only be his bowels splitting apart. Just when he thinks it can’t get any worse, the pressure in his pelvis becomes unbearable and the need to expel something massive overtakes him. With no thought in his head but relief, he fumbles his sweats and boxers down to his knees and begins to push.
A burst of fluid between his legs makes him think he must have wet himself, but he keeps pushing, not even caring if he ruins his mattress, as long as it ends the pain.
His low hums of effort spike with a scream as he starts to burn down there. He makes no progress despite desperate attempts to force out whatever’s stretching him, and his voice pitches into panicked wheezing as he realizes it’s stuck there, feeling like it’s tearing him open.
Hand trembling, he reaches back. He finds his asshole swollen and puckered, but tightly shut. Cold dread prickles over his scalp. If it’s not in his ass, that means it’s in his pussy. But that can’t be. Because that would mean…
With his breath shuddering in the top of his throat, he brushes his fingertips down his perineum, feeling it bulge further and further until it meets the stretched-raw edge of his cunt. He whines through his teeth.
“No, no, no way, no, nonono…” he whimpers, but his protests change nothing as he feels lower and finds something bulbous and slimy forcing his pussy into a broad teardrop shape.
“Fuck, no, I can’t, no, no—“ Panic wets his eyes. He can’t have a baby, for fuck’s sake, he doesn’t want this, he’s not ready to be a daddy, he can’t— “AUGH!”
The next contraction comes—because that’s what they’ve been all along, how could he be so stupid?—and he roars behind his teeth as he fights the urge to push. But it’s too late. He feels his cunt lips spread, the baby’s head inching forward until it domes out beneath his fingers. Then the contraction ends, and his muscles go limp, and the head slips back in, his poor cunt lips trying and failing to shut around it.
And, fuck, that’s worse! He groans and starts to sob, letting out a choked, delirious laugh as the spasming of his weeping makes the baby’s scalp bob against his entrance, little spikes of stabbing pain.
Desperate for releif, he pulls one leg up and out of his bottoms, groaning as this makes more room in his pelvis. It also makes the bastard in his birth canal bulge forward, a promise behind his pussy lips.
When the next contraction comes, he accepts that he’s going to be a daddy whether he likes it or not, pulls his leg up as far as he can, and pushes. With silent, trembling effort and a reddening face, his overwrought abs and stretched cunt bear down and his life-ruining surprise crowns, reducing his pussy lips to strips of fire and tearing a scream through his teeth.
Then the contraction ends, and the baby sinks back in.
“NO!!!” he screams, clawing at his birth-soiled sheets. “No, no, god, please, no, NO!!”
His chest hitches, and he lies there panicking, envisioning hours of excruciating pain as the head stretches him over and over, never fully leaving. He’s dizzy and panting when the next contraction hits, and barley has the presence of mind to try to push. But he doesn’t have enough control, and the pathetic spasming clenches of his muscles only torment his ruined entrance as the head inches out and back in.
Whining, he decides something has to change. He doesn’t know any other way to get up, so he steels himself and rolls over onto his laboring gut. He screams behind pinched-shut lips, and it takes him several shaking attempts to get his limbs underneath him and lift himself onto his hands and knees. There’s barely any relief to be found in the position, but every little bit helps, and he groans and whimpers as he rocks back and forth, trying to find the angle that spreads his hips the widest.
“Oh, fuck, okay—hnng!” The next contraction wrings through him, and he leans back, every muscle reduced to trembling as he bears down with all his might. A high scream ekes through his teeth as he pushes the head to a crown again, Yes, yes, please, echoing in his head— then he stops contracting, and the baby stops moving.
“AUGH! NNNGHGH— NNNOOOOO!” he roars, his voice scraping his throat. He tries to push again, pushes until his face burns and he goes dizzy, but nothing happens before he has to give up and wheeze for air. Pathetic whines and whimpers punch out of him with every gasping breath as he realizes that he’s stuck crowning until the next contraction comes to save him.
Morbid, desperate curiosity, he reaches back to feel. He chokes out a formless scream as the gentlest brush of his fingertips only stokes the agony of his tormented pussy lips, if they can even be called that anymore, completely taut around the head. It’s huge, magnitudes larger than anything he’s ever taken, a perfect circle displacing his pelvic bones and his tdick and his asshole, reshaping his means of pleasure into nothing but a tortured birthing hole.
Finally, finally, he contracts. He slaps his hand down on the mattress and braces himself and pushes, pushes so hard that even his urge to scream is reconstituted into birthing energy, his chin to his chest and his thighs trembling and his asshole bulging as the head somehow stretches him even wider. He keeps expecting it to pop out, but it only burns him more, and more, and more— and the contraction ends.
He screams, so desperate that his own voice frightens him, and falls down to his elbows, his pried-open pussy angled high in the air. How could it be so big? Fuck, fuck, he’s never gonna spread his legs for anyone again, not that anyone will want his pussy once it’s left uselessly gaping by this massive bastard. He pants and swears and sobs. Fluids tickle down the insides of his thighs, probably blood as his poor cunt perpetually crowns this massive head.
The next one comes, and he’s so delirious with pain and exhaustion that he pushes just like that, elbows on the mattress and cunt in the air, the infant inside him entirely unmoving as he tries to force it out almost vertically. It’s only when his feels the bulk inching deeper into his birth canal and the burn reducing around the crown that he realizes his mistake.
“No, no, no, fuck, fuck, no!!” he shrieks, shoving himself up onto his hands, but it’s too late. His body heaves as it falls into a resting period, and desperately he reaches back to feel how much progress he lost. The perfect circle of his pussy has returned to that teardrop curve, the head barely engaged between his lips. “Fuuuuuuck,” he whines, and his continuous sniveling dissolves into sobs.
He spends the minutes waiting for the next contraction weeping pathetically, feeling wretched and stupid and sorry for himself. But when the next one comes, he grits his teeth and reaches up for the back of the driver’s seat. He wrenches himself upright as he can, knees spread, just as the contraction reaches full intensity, and starts to push. Then his eyes snap wide.
“Oh— NO—!!” There’s hardly time to register his mistake, and none to fix it. He can only screech at the top of his lungs as gravity shoots the head back into a full crown, a stab of agony that makes him sure his pussy has ripped open. But there’s still resistance, so maybe not— he pulls in a few deep breaths, laced with uncontrolled, rising and dropping vocalizations, then drops his head and keeps pushing with everything he has left.
The world goes dark and quiet, the rush of his blood the only sound left in his head. Somehow his cunt stretches even further, and the pain eclipses anything he thought possible, and for a moment he longs for the release of death—
Then a pop, a burst of hot fluid down his legs. He pulls in scratchy, heaving gasps, clinging to the headrest as he tries not to fall over. Fuck, he was really close to passing out. But he’s awake, and the fire has given way to the strange sensation of something heavy and round between his legs.
Trembling, he reaches back to feel.
“Oh,” he sobs. “Oh, holy fuck.”
He’s giving birth. He’s having a baby. Its shoulders still press like an anvil behind his cunt, but the head is out, it’s there, half an hour ago he had no idea he was even pregnant and now he’s cupping some stranger’s baby between his legs.
“Oh my god, oh my god,” he mumbles. He allows his head to go limp and just lets his body hang there, belly still heavy on his thighs, offspring still wedged in his vagina. He somehow has the presence of mind to check for a cord around the neck. The relief when he finds none is less for the child’s safety and more for being spared another complication. He closes his eyes and tries to use the moment of rest for all it’s worth.
The reprieve isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. He groans as he feels the baby twisting inside of him, the shoulders pressing against his entrance but not yet breaching it. He grimaces through the strange sensation, panting as he dreads passing the rest of the body.
“Oh, fuck, not yet, no,” he whimpers, but there’s nothing to be done with the next contraction other than to push. He hears himself making an animal sort of sound, a deep lowing, once again sure he’s going to tear. Then he feels the baby lurch forward against his hand, and groans with pain and relief as his fingers find the shape of a shoulder bulging out of him. The more malleable shape keeps it from being as bad as the head, though he still whimpers in dismay when the contraction ends with just the one shoulder out.
“Okay, almost, almost there,” he pants. “Just gotta get it out, gotta get it out of me…”
Ready for this to be over, he tightens his grip on the head rest and draws one trembling leg forward, then the other, to perch his laboring body in a deep squat. He winces as the weight inside tries to shift forward. “Almost,” he mumbles. “Soon…”
And it is soon. He contracts, and pushes, and pushes—
And with a final wail, he pops the baby’s other shoulder free, one last twist of pain before it slips out of him in a flood of liquid. He more or less catches it, though the mattress helps.
“Holy shit,” he whispers. “Holy fuck.”
He doesn’t really have his right mind about him anymore. Disorientation and exhaustion and a half-formed concern for the infant he just expelled all come together, and somehow he finds himself limping into the nearby truck stop diner wearing nothing but his boots and shirt, disgusting birthing blanket wrapped around the newborn to keep it warm.
The other patrons stare at this gruff, bearded man well into middle age, and the umbilical cord dangling between his pussy and the squalling newborn in his arms, undeniable proof to anyone who looks that he just labored out a baby.
