Mutt 🔜 MFF

His breath hisses sharply though his teeth and his belly tenses even harder as he does just that, abs struggling to maintain any grip after being stretched so thin by two huge pregnancies.

But, finally, the most beautiful moment comes. The unrelenting pressurized ache between his legs tightens into a burn, and the crotch of his jeans rounds subtly as the head drops through his cervix and fills his pussy completely. He squirms and grits his teeth, panting.

“Fuuuck, baby, it burns, it already burns.” Trembling beneath the weight of his rock-hard belly, he manages to scoot back and spread his legs even wider. “My pussy’s so full! It barely fits! Aaaauuuuugh-!” His head falls back, body lurching and belly rocking as he puts his whole spine into a push. He keeps stretching, a growing swell where his thighs meet, a sting worsening every second as the poor lips of his cunt grind between the descending head and the shrinkwrap jeans.

Then the progress stops. He keeps pushing, even between contractions, indulging in loud, effort-filled moans, but the oppressive weight of the head remains closed behind his stretched labia.

“I can’t get it out!” His head rolls back, chest heaving in overwhelm. “It won’t come out no matter how hard I push!”

Finally, he’s getting closer to the place he’s imagined being, the place he’s been dreaming of returning to for 11 months. Laboring fiercely, he struggles to lift himself up, and must sit with his legs splayed and his contracting pussy forward before he manages to stand. With the slow, rocking gait of a man with a head splitting his hips, he staggers towards the camera and turns it.

For a moment, the shot is vague and unfocused, just a brown smudge with the agonized sounds of labor in the background. Then his groaning fades, and the image rattles around before actualizing into a dresser. He practically falls into the frame, his hands slapping the surface of the dresser as his belly hangs with incredible weight beneath him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbles, and begins to circle his hips in wide, deliberate motions. “Mmhg… your baby’s so big… can you see? Can you see it coming out?”

Later, he’ll be pleased to find that he managed to catch his body in complete profile, including the lump jutting from the back of his jeans.

Now, he lifts a trembling hand from the dresser top and stretches to cup the tender curve of his bulging perineum. His jaw falls open as he traces two delicate fingers down the seam of his jeans, pressing it ever-so-slightly between his pussy lips.

This causes the tiniest bit of tension on his stretched t-clit, and he yelps like a puppy, feebly bucking his hips. “Augh!” He hangs his head, and the light catches tears welling between his lashes. “Ohhhh my god,” he groans, “it’s too… it’s too…!”

Suddenly his eyes fly open, and a helpless squeak ekes from his throat, only for him to spread his lips in a silent wail as he cums. The tense and pulse of his orgasm triggers something in him, and he slams his hand down and starts pushing frantically, bucking his full pussy backwards like he can just wrench it out.

“It’s too much!” he screams. “I need- I need—!”

With trembling hands, he tries to unbutton the jeans. Tight as they are, he struggles, whimpering desperately every time he must stop to push.

“Ohh, pleasepleaseple—“ The moment he drags his jeans down his thighs, the glistening, dark red dome between his legs swells even further, and finally splits open. He shrieks, cumming again at the first hint of the head peeking out, and the orgasm makes the little slip of dark hair bob, easing further out and sinking back in with each urgent clench of his shiny, cumming pussy.

He wails, agonized, even as two of his fingers fly to jam against his tightening clit.

When it finally passes, he sags for a moment, the heavy shape of his belly tightening and relaxing as he gasps for air. “Ooooh, it’s right there,” he mumbles. “Fuuuuuck. Fuck it’s so good. It’s so— mnnnn…” He winces even as a pleased shiver unfurls across his limbs.

Shakily, he shoves the jeans further down his legs, revealing that he still has one last piece of clothing: a skintight pair of transparent vinyl briefs. Every inch of his birthing hole is visible, reflected light clinging to the dips and curves of his body.

Glancing at the camera, he manages a sweaty, self-satisfied smirk. “You like this? I wanted you to see just how big your baby stretches me.”

Saying so, he turns, still bent at the waist, so that the camera gets his plastic-coated cunt in perfect detail. Then, groaning, he pushes, and the material tightens as the slit between his raw lips begins to round towards his asshole. For a moment, it’s the resistance of his own slowly-opening body that prevents the head from coming out, but as he pushes and pushes, the vinyl stretches less and less, until finally—

“Ah- ah-! It won’t move!”

Wrapped as delicately as a present, his crowning cunt trembles and his asshole throbs on the end of a desperate push. “Ohh GOD!” he wails, hanging his head. “My clit! Fuck, my clit, my clit—“

The sweet little thing barely makes a bump against the plastic, the purple head eye-catching amid all the stretched-pale flesh. Between the skull of the crowning child and the uncaring chafe of the vinyl, his t-clit is pressed thin as a flower between pages, and he starts to heave sobs of overstimulation. His toes curl, and he shakes his head, drool beginning to gather over his lip with wet mumblings.

“I can’t! Get it out! Get it out, get it OUT!!”

Instinctively, he drops into a deep squat, and screams as the tremendous weight of his pregnant mass tries to thrust the head from his pussy. Still, the vinyl cradles it, and it remains at a perfect crown between his quivering lips. He shrieks and bounces restlessly on his heels, hands fluttering down feverishly between his legs to feel the bowling-ball weight now hanging beneath him.

His begging to get it out loops into incomprehensible babble as he pushes and pushes. “It’s too big, your baby’s too big for my pussy!” he moans. “My clit’s gonna tear! I can’t anymore!”

Yet he does, never removing the briefs, because he has a plan: he’s not going to take them off. Not until he gives birth.

When his thighs begin to shake, he slumps forward and ends up on his side, clutching his belly in one hand and the back of his knee in the other, prying himself wide. He lays on his side, heaving like livestock, and groans helplessly as he pushes without end. Birthing fluid gathers in the vinyl briefs and drips down his legs, the drops released with each push accumulating over the seemingly unending effort.

Eventually, when he can’t force the head out that way, he clambers onto his hands and knees and crawls, his entire body shaking, back to the bed. He reaches into a box sitting on the floor and produces a powerful massage wand. Then, sinking down on one elbow, he presents his crowning cunt to the camera and pushes the powerfully vibrating wand between his upper thighs, wedging it to the splayed-wide nub that used to be his t-clit.

At first he screams, but his voice gives quickly, and he lays there with his cheek pressed to the floor and his ass up, contracting and cumming in helpless perpetuity. Occasionally, soft whimpers of, “Need it out, lemme push it out, lemme birth it…” are caught by the microphone.

Three and a half hours after he first crowns, he finally finds the strength to make that final push. With an ugly, heaving grunt, the vinyl fills with the huge head of his baby. He takes his time peeling off the briefs, and lifts himself upright, shuffling his knees under himself and facing the camera again. Kneeling there, he holds the wand directly on his aching purple clit, and births the massive shoulders with a single push and the whimper of a ruined orgasm.

This is the first video file his stud receives, labeled 13lbs.mov.

But there is also a second.

This one began recording at 2 AM, in the moody light of a bedside table lamp. In it, sweat renders the breeder’s heaving body in a thin glitter, and his belly still looks huge in the half-dark, especially as it draws tight with a contraction.

“The- the afterbirth was taking forever,” he says in a scratchy voice, absent of the sultry pageantry of the first video. “Now- ooooh, hah, fuck.” He pants, instinctively lifting a foot onto the bed to open his hips. “Hah, hah, I need to push, I gotta push agai—!” His face scrunches up, and slowly reddens as he struggles with all his might.

After, it takes him several gasping moments to speak again. His chest jumps with shallow breaths, words thin.

“There’s another head. A second head. Fuck, holy fuck.” He laughs almost deliriously. The lamplight catches his raw pussy squeezing gently in anticipation. “I’m having another one. A twin. Fuck, you put twins in me!” He reaches down and gives an indulgent rub to his incredibly swollen clit before shoving his fingers up his cunt.

Then he jolts, and his eyes fly wide. “Oh, god, I feel it! The head! It’s right there, it’s coming so fast, what the— ohhhhh—”

His belly locks into a tight, twisted shape, and he releases only a faint wheeze, like the wind has been knocked out of him, as he pushes with it. The plastic covering the bed crinkles in his fists.

Unlike its slow, impeded stretch before, his heavily-used pussy unfurls suddenly around the budding head. He yelps in shock. Then both of his hands fly to it, and he moans as the rest of his push is absorbed into the counter-force of his palms and the head moves no further.

“Stop!” he screams. “It’s too big! I can’t, I can’t, I…”

Delicately, a tendon leaping in his neck as he pants for breath, he starts to push the crown back inside. “Fuck!” His head drops backwards, and he shakes it at the ceiling as if defying himself. “Fuck, fuck, it’s going back in! It doesn’t fit, it’s too much, fuck! My- ah! My fucking cervix, fuck, hnnnn-“

Voice breaking, he whimpers desperately even as he slowly closes his legs around his wrist, hand still covering his puffy pussy. “M’so full. Fuuuuck. Fuck, I can’t believe I get to do this again, pussy’s made for struggling on big babies, fuuuuck…”

His wrist writhes into the meeting of his thighs, hips rolling forward as he humps the heel of his hand. “Ohhh I feel so heavy. So fucking.” Then a wince, teeth clenching, as his belly contracts. “M’not ready,” he mumbles, then groans loud enough to wake the dead as he pushes uselessly. His elbow jerks as he works his hand against his clit, and suddenly his hips leap from the bed and his eyes flutter as he cums, birthing fluid spraying between his fingers.

“Shit!” His next gasp rattles, voice fraying again with his volume. “Need this, need this, need this so bad, need your huge fuckin’ twins stuck in my cunt every night—!”

He whips his hand away and opens his legs, and makes a frail bleating sound with the rhythm of his stretching pussy as the head lurches out in steady spasms. He lets it keep coming until it triggers a scream just before crowning, then shoves it up his greedy cunt again. His spine arches off the bed, a wounded, dying groan filling the room.

“Fuuuuuuuck, baby, it hurts, it hurts, it’s too much, it’s too much, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I—“

With only needy instinct guiding him, he denies himself the birth of the twin for hours, lost in a heady haze of pressure and pain and pleasure. His body fights to push it out, writhing on the sheets, and he forces it back inside, his orgasmic groans indistinguishable from his moans of absolute agony.

Near dawn, he scrambles upright, legs wavering dangerously beneath him, and shudders with the force required to shove the head back in as gravity enters the picture.

“Need to- need it out,” he pants, eyes shiny and pleading. “Can’t do it anymore, my pussy, my poor fucking pussy hurts so bad, I need to birth it, I need to birth it, please let me—!”

His knees give, and when his hands lurch to his thighs to steady himself, the baby finally crowns. He shrieks, then starts to shake his head, wailing, “Too big! It’s too big!” His already-splayed knees wobble further apart, feet shifting on the floor, and his body squats almost without his permission, bulging the head forward.

With ragged, helpless breaths and a heaving belly, he reaches clumsily for the camera. Shadows fly around the room and his hands clack noisily on the plastic, then finally he’s filming his pussy straight-on.

“L-look at that head…”

It’s so big that it looks unreal, his trembling thighs flush against the ears and his lips so stretched they’ll clearly never be the same. It’s hard to even imagine how his pelvis got so wide. He gasps a sob distantly. “So big…!”

Slowly, slowly, it begins to come out. He makes a breathless grunting sound, then squeaks in pain as the fat cheeks begin to stretch his hole even further, and cups it again with his hand. By his full-body tremble, it’s clear there’s no pushing it back in now, but he holds it all the same, desperate to deny it just a little longer.

“Fuck, fuck… ahhhh- hah… hmmmmng, too full, too big, it burns, it burns so bad, I can’t…”

But he does. A contraction begins to ease the head forward again, and he yelps as it bursts out of him. To the camera, it looks nearly the size of a grown man’s head, though the warped perspective is mostly to blame.

A thin whimper, and he clenches his jaw into another push. After everything, it still takes all he has left to grunt the shoulders free of his pussy, flicking his clit all the while.

This second video file, he names 18lbs.mov.

With the two files, he includes the message: Meet in 4 weeks? I already miss being full ❤️

Noemi decided that the best way to handle this issue was head-on. If he was disgusted by her body, she could lose the weight, somehow. If he enjoyed it, she could enjoy her boyfriend's praise. That was surely why her anxiety was up, and why there was a tension in her lower back, right?

She worked hard to set it all up. There were scattered rose petals, candles, and a note on the door telling Mark to come inside. It had taken hours to prepare an array of desserts (including chocolate covered strawberries,) all the while her stomach and back cramped. She desperately hoped that she wouldn't get her period tonight. It had been so damn irregular these days...

Noemi had seen that other couples did things like tie themselves up. While she had never done anything so adventerous, she knew Mark would likely enjoy it. She thought about this as she fought her way into some lingerie, a lacy ensemble that complimented her skin tone, vaguely held her swollen tits, and...unfortunately presented her swollen belly.

She really needed to see a doctor, right? This weight gain couldn't be normal or healthy. Growing up in a cult had not done great things for her sexual or health education. It was a wonder she functioned like an average person at all after her escape.

Noemi shook the thought off as she positioned herself in the bed. Her stomach cramped and she winced. "Stop," she whined as she placed one wrist into a handcuff and locked it. The other was hard to lock in with one hand, but she managed it. The key for the handcuffs was on the side table next to her, meant to be used by Mark.

She stared at the clock on her wall.

5:30 P.M.

Mark was due to be there at 5:45 P.M. Noemi could wait.

5:35 P.M. An increasingly painful cramp hit her, causing Noemi to cry out and squirm, "Stop, stop, I'm supposed to have a romantic time, don't ruin this, period."

Her periods weren't usually this painful, but she couldn't come up with a better answer.

5:40 P.M.: More pain, Noemi squealed and squirmed, writhing on the bed. "At least it's regular, oh my god---"

5:45 P.M. A cramp that left her breathless and pulling on the restraints. Surely Mark would be here any minute.

5:55 P.M. The pain started to ramp up, with Noemi whining and gasping for air between each twinge and cramp. Mark was late, and she was starting to feel like something was wrong.

6:10 P.M. The pains were coming every three minutes now instead of every five. Noemi whimpered, tears welling up in her eyes. Where was he?! She glanced over to her side table, where her phone pulled up a preview of a text.

FROM: Mark <3

hey baby, sorry, I'm gonna be an hour or two late, my flight got delayed. be there ASAP, I love you

Shit. She was going to be stuck there unless she slipped out of those handcuffs somehow. Noemi gritted her teeth through another cramp and shook her head.

"No, no, please, please," she took in a sharp breath, "Something is wrong, I can't be stuck here..."

Three minutes later, there was fluid leaking between her legs. The cramping continued.

"Oh my god---" She tried to see over her belly, but she couldn't. "Did I just...?!" She glanced across from her at the large mirror she had set across from the bed. Clear fluid soaked her legs, panties, and the sheets.

"Damnit, my sheets, my good sheets---" She moaned, pain spreading through both her back and abdomen. It was ramping up, something urgent and strange. There was a heaviness building in her hips. A strange presence there was pressing against her cervix, demanding exit.

Noemi shook her head, unfamiliar with her own anatomy. "Oh fuck, oh my god, what is that?!" She choked, trying to wriggle her hips around in some pathetic attempt to stop the process.

Each pain felt like it was bringing her closer to something horrifying and agonizing. Her bodily instincts were strong but her mind was filled with terror. Noemi's face was wet with tears as she let out a scream. Maybe the neighbors would hear and call the cops, maybe---

They were out of town for the weekend. Noemi choked on her own sobs.

Something was low in her pelvis. It was big and insistent, something pressing down, down, down...

Noemi bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut. Whatever this was, it was nothing but pain and a pressure she had never known before. Her body instinctively wanted her to spread her legs, but fear made her press them shut.

6:45 P.M. Something was forcing its way out. Noemi let out a loud wail, sweat mussing her hair as she pulled hard on the restraints. Something was slowly, agonizingly pushing its way past her cervix. She wouldn't know the word for it, but it was happening.

All Noemi knew was pain and terror, much like many of her ancestors before her. At least they weren't handcuffed to a bed, screaming for help that woudn't come.

She sobbed between the pain that now came every two minutes, her legs shaking as she spread them. She would relent to the feeling, give in to the desire to push down, to press against...something.

"I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die here, oh my god..."

She pushed, and she was rewarded with more pressure, more pain---and the feeling of fullness in her pussy. "No, no, no! Oh my god, what is that---"

She couldn't think logically. Nobody had ever taught her about childbirth. Why would they? The cult didn't care to, and Mark had assumed she knew.

"Make it stop, make it stop---" Another push. An urge fulfilled, a scream piercing the quiet night. She had no direction, no support, nobody to check and see how far she had progressed.

She sobbed into the unforgiving night and pushed. Her body screamed for her to keep going while she screamed for it to be over. She was sure she was going to die. Surely there was no way she deserved this type of agony.

8:00 P.M. Something was bulging out of her.

Noemi wailed in terror, sure this was the end.

"Mark! Mark help me, please!" He was not here. There was nobody here but her, the pain, and the urges.

The large bulge pressed against her pussy lips. It burned, a fire Noemi had never known. She shrieked and pulled so hard at the restraints her wrists were raw.

"Please, stop, stop! I don't want to, I don't--" She didn't want any of this, but her body demanded she push. So she pushed, like the good girl she was. She pushed, like all her ancestors before her had. She pushed until she felt something emerge. Noemi opened her tear-stained eyes and looked at the mirror again.

Was that...a head? Was that a fucking head coming out of her?!

Was she giving birth?!

She was consumed by another pain as she heard the door open. Noemi sobbed as she bore down, feeling the baby start to twist and slowly emerge from her.

"Baby, I'm so sorry I'm late--"

The baby slid onto the bed and started to scream as Mark entered. Noemi looked up, her face bright red and streaked with tears and sweat.

"Mark!" She gasped.

"Noemi!" Mark rushed to her side, quickly finding the release on the handcuffs. "Noemi, what--what happened, I---"

Noemi whined, her hands shaking as she picked up the crying baby (a boy.) "I--I don't know, I didn't---"

Mark stared at her in awe, his eyes wide with admiration, confusion and...something else. Noemi cried, holding the baby to her chest.

"Is this how people have babies?!" She cried out.

Mark smiled gently, "Yes, my love. I--didn't know you were..."

"Neither did I," Noemi admitted. "Are you mad?"

Mark shook his head, "No, I'm not. Are you okay?"

Noemi made a noise, clutching her stomach as another pain gripped her, "No, it still hurts."

Mark gently spread her legs to examine her, "That's probably the...oh." His expression shifted, "There's another one."

"What?! No, I can't do it again--"

"Hey, hey, you'll be fine, you're with me," Mark carefully set up some blankets to set the first baby aside on.

"Now, I want you to breathe. Do you want to sit up?"

"It---this hurts, please..." Noemi whimpered. Mark carefully shifted her so she was on her knees.

"Gravity will help. Now, the next time you get a contraction..."

"A what?"

"Next time you feel the pain, bear down." Mark settled in, kneeling in front of Noemi so she could rest her body weight on him. She sobbed as she pushed, then stopped and shook her head.

"It feels wrong, it's wrong---"

"Push, Noemi, just do as I say," his voice was firm and authorative. Fear was like ice in Noemi's blood, but she listened. Each push was three times harder than the first baby had been. It all felt wrong. She screamed into Mark's shoulder, biting down as the pain intensified.

"It's wrong, it's wrong, I don't wanna do this, I can't give birth, please, Mark, I want to go to a doctor..." She sobbed, her voice muffled in his shirt.

Mark had his hand between her legs, gingerly pressing his fingers inside her.

"Listen to me, Noemi, you have to push. Just do as I say."

Noemi choked as a contraction railed through her. The weight--the baby between her legs felt strange and massive. When she pushed again, she let out a horrified scream.

"Ow! Oh my god, ow!"

"Push harder," Mark muttered, his voice filled with focus and concern.

"What's wrong with it?!"

"Just push!" She pushed again. A new pain. A new nightmare for her to dwell over. Noemi grunted as she bore down and dug her nails into Mark's arm as she clung onto it.

"It's---heavy, it---hurts---"

Mark shifted slightly, just enough for Noemi to see that the baby was coming out backwards. Fear ran through her and she recoiled. Mark grabbed her, steadying her.

"Noemi, just do as I say. Bear down, now. Don't stop until I say stop."

8:45 P.M.

Noemi whined and dropped her head. The pain was unlike anything she'd ever known. She felt the urge, constant, ripping through her like the body that stretched her wide open. She took in a sharp breath of air as she felt the shoulders clear.

"Fuck!"

"Keep going! Push! Push hard!" Mark instructed. She wanted rest. She wanted to stop, she---her body wanted this out. When the head slowly emerged from her, she heard a second baby cry. Noemi collapsed back onto the bed as Mark examined the second baby, a girl.

"I'm so sorry," Noemi cried, now cleaned up and holding their two children.

Mark admired her, leaning to kiss her forehead.