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You’ve known about my pregnancy fetish forever. I was mortified when you told me you’d discovered it, but my mood quickly changed when you revealed that you shared it. Now we constantly role play- but that’s all it ever is. You know I’m too dedicated to my career to ever let myself fall pregnant, and you’ve always thought it funny how cautious I’ve always been, even after I started seeing you- how could another woman knock me up?
And then we found ourselves in quarantine together. I was a wreck- my arts job that I’d thrown myself into was suddenly gone, at least for the foreseeable future. I quickly started searching for something, and lucked out and found a boring office job that would let me work from home. You knew that I was unhappy, and with my career forced to a screeching halt, you saw your opportunity.
“What if we didn’t have to role play getting you pregnant?” You asked me one night, as I lay beneath you, naked and already moaning in pleasure. “You don’t have to worry about about your career now, at least for a while...now would be the perfect time for me to put a baby in you,” you whisper in my ear. “Please.... I want you to knock me up,” I whisper back. And then before I know it, you’re thrusting your strap into me. As I’m coming down from my orgasm I’m surprised to feel something leak onto my leg when you remove the strap. I give you a look of shock, and placing your hand on my belly you smile wickedly and tell me you can’t wait to see me swollen with your baby.
I brush off what you did, telling myself there’s no way whatever you put inside me could have knocked me up, and that even if it could have it likely wouldn’t have since I’m always so diligent about my birth control. Then my breasts start aching. Truthfully, I try to ignore it for a few weeks even though, deep down, I know that somehow you got me pregnant. I’ve always hidden how much I’ve wanted it, and finally allowing it to happen almost feels wrong. Soon after, I miss my time of the month. I’m still somewhat conflicted, despite the fact that I’ve already found myself staring at the mirror, completely naked imagining how big I’ll get. You’re there the first time I have a bout of morning sickness, and that evening you show up knowingly with a pregnancy test. I take it, even though we both already know what the result will be.
A few weeks later we’re getting ready to go to my first appointment. I’ve been nervous, because there’s already a slight swell to my belly- not enough that anyone else has noticed, especially when it’s covered by a shirt. But it’s enough to remind me that I’m most definitely pregnant. You can tell I’m nervous, I haven’t been able to stop anxiously bouncing my leg in the waiting room. Thankfully, you’re able to come back with me. Despite the changes to my body (my breasts have already been aching), the fact that I’m pregnant hasn’t felt real. It finally really hits me when I lay back on the exam table and pull my shirt up over my belly. “Are you sure you’re only about seven weeks?” the doctor asks as she squirts the cold gel on my tiny bump. I sheepishly nod as she places the ultrasound wand to my belly. I see her eyes narrow as she looks at the screen and I shoot you a look. “Is everything okay?” You ask the doctor. “Yes, congratulations are in order, you’re having multiples!” I feel my heart stop, I’m simultaneously elated and terrified. The doctor is focused on the screen again, the wand probing my belly. “Multiples? How many?” I ask. “Triplets,” the doctor answers pointing at the screen.
As soon as we walk in the front door you shove me up against the wall with a kiss. “You’re going to be so beautiful huge with my triplets,” you tell me “I’d hoped for twins, but messing with your birth control worked better than I imagined.” I shiver, I’d suspected that you had probably replaced my birth control with something else. Hearing it confirmed, knowing how deliberately you knocked me up really turns me on. You begin kissing down my neck, and I gasp as you squeeze one of my breasts. “How are we going to tell everyone?” I breathily ask. You pull my shirt up and place a hand on my belly. “I want you all to myself,” you say as you begin rubbing the small swell. “We’re not going to tell anyone until these babies come out of you...” “h-how would we get away with it?” I ask. You smile wickedly, “babe that’s going to be so easy with everything going on...”
By the time I’m about 9 weeks I undeniably have a bump. So far your plan has gone incredibly smoothly- it’s easy to hide my swelling midsection when people only see shoulders and above over a video call. When I do venture out in public, you make sure I wear a loose shirt- I’m still small enough that no one is likely to ask if I’m pregnant for fear of being rude. You typically run the errands, and today is no different. I’m relaxing on the couch, listening one of my favorite records, waiting on you to get home. I find myself rubbing my bump, I’m already so happy with what you’ve done to me. I’ve already been forced into leggings, none of my pants will button. I’m not wearing a bra, my boobs have started to overflow the cups. They’re still so sensitive, and my nipples have changed. They’ve started getting darker, and just about anything makes them erect. Right now they’re poking through the thin fabric of my top. “Hey babe,” I call out as I hear you come in the front door. You come into the room carrying a bag. “I don’t think you should get to have all the fun,” you say pulling something out of the bag. It’s a strap on- looking closer, I think it’s the one you used to knock me up. “Is that what I think it is?” I ask. You nod, pulling my shirt up over my bump. You begin placing soft kisses over the swell and I shiver. “I want this too,” you tell me. I smile wickedly at you, and a few minutes later you’re bent over the couch, my bump resting against the top of your ass as I get ready to put a baby in you.
I knew with triplets I’d get huge, but at 25 weeks I look ready to pop. I feel so full and wonderful despite the discomforts- it’s already gotten hard to find a comfortable sleeping position. You’ve just started showing. I successfully knocked you up, but the doctor has already confirmed it’s just one. Even with us both pregnant, you’re still waiting on me hand and foot. I have a video meeting for work today, and I know you’ll want to watch. You like to set up the camera for me, and you like to make sure that no one sees our not so little secret. It’s been hard, I’ve been bursting the share what’s happened with the world, but anytime I hear you say I’m all yours I melt. I want to tease you with my outfit today, so I pull out some of my pre-pregnancy clothes. Even though the pants are stretchy they won’t fit over my bump. The shirt barely covers my already popped belly button. You’re always so meticulous about setting up the camera so that only my head and shoulders are seen, so I decide to forego a bra. This will do nicely, I think. I waddle into the kitchen where you set up the computer. “Is that really what you’re wearing?” You ask, crossing to me. I nod, you grab my breasts and I can feel my nipples harden at your touch. “Perfect,” you say as you pull out the chair for me. Sitting down I can feel the babies start kicking. I hope they calm down, it can be so distracting and it makes it hard to keep a straight face. I test the camera, and sure enough all that can be seen is shoulders and up. The call starts, and unfortunately the babies are still kicking. You can see me rubbing my belly trying not to make a face and give myself away. You love knowing that no one can tell what a fertility goddess you’ve made me. Bursting out of my clothes, my swollen tits resting on top of my bump. You know I’m just going to get bigger, but you still won’t let me tell anyone- not until they’re out of me. Maybe the next time you knock me up it won’t be a secret.
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I think about being pregnant all the time. Not in a cute little daydream way, in a filthy, needy, “please knock me up and make it obvious” kind of way. I want the proof of it on my body. A belly getting bigger because I got bred right, cravings hitting harder, clothes getting tighter, everyone able to tell I’m full for a reason….
I want to be spoiled, fed, touched, teased, and reminded that I wanted this. I want to look soft, shameless, and ruined by it.
Your hands would grab my hips so tight, right? My hips got wider since you knocked me up...
But of course i still let you pound my cervix, daddy. You loooove watching my bump bounce with our movements. Afterall, its your pretty, younger pregnant wife 🩷
Of course i love it too. I want baby after baby, you could never say no to my begging.
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My hand is under my belly- the crease where my hips meet my forward growing and rounding abdomen. If you were to look at me you’d guess I’m 5 months along at least. And that was the problem. I was only 8 weeks, but it was my fourth pregnancy and with each new pregnancy my body was giving itself away sooner and sooner each time.
Im staring at myself in the mirror. Wearing sweats and a sports bra thats a little too tight, no shirt, with my hair up in a messy bun. I look way too pregnant this early on. There was absolutely zero chance I was going to be able to hide this at all. I was already starting to round out and poke through some of my shirts.
“There is literally no way I can hide this one”
I couldn’t stop staring at myself in the mirror, I rubbed my soft belly, half expecting to feel a kick just from the size I was even though I knew it was weeks too soon. With my hand still on my belly, I thought about how badly I wanted to show with my first pregnancy. I couldn’t show fast enough and I didn’t pop out enough either. And now I took a test because I thought I already looked pregnant and the test only confirmed it.
The first time you got me pregnant I asked you every single day if you could tell I was pregnant yet, If I looked it, if you thought people we knew could tell, if you thought strangers who saw me in public could tell. I wanted people to know I was pregnant so bad and I carried that pregnancy so small. The milestones felt like they took forever and a day to reach. At that time I always wanted to be bigger. I saw moms on their second and third pregnancies and saw they had the bellies I wanted. And now, on my fourth, I’m bigger than I thought to be at this stage and I can’t believe how fast everything is happening.
You walk in and look at me grinning, pleased with yourself. “I love seeing you like this. It lets the world know you’re mine”
“Im too big for this early!”
“Are we sure they measured you right?”
“Yes!! How am I supposed to hide this from anyone when this bump is already taking shape under my clothes! Look at how much I’m already protruding!”
“So we can’t have another after this…?”
I roll my eyes. “That’s not what I said”
And I was right. I couldn’t hide it. People were already looking at me. Strangers not knowing any better looked at my belly more than any other pregnancy (or maybe I just paid even more attention) and friends and family that noticed my shirts fitting snug or round asked “another one…?” Since I had recently just had our last.
And to make it worse, it was June. There was no way to cover up and hide it. Much too warm for that. At home I wore a bra but no shirts. In public I wore loose flowy clothing.
Everything hit sooner and harder. I was sleepier. I wanted more naps. I was hungrier. My cravings were so intense and I felt like I couldn’t stop eating.
I was also worried that I’d need to get even bigger maternity clothes than I already had. My belly button was already starting to change! From an innie to getting more and more shallow by the day.
By August, the four months mark, I was already starting to slow down how quickly I could lift myself up from sitting down. I started seeking out chairs that had arm rests so I could gently let myself down and push myself up. I started needing to pause what I was doing to take deeper breaths. I could not believe I was already breathing heavily and groaning to push myself up. When I had to sit on a bench, you knew the drill. You automatically got up and gave me your hand to pull me up when I had no armrests to help hoist myself up. And we both used those moments to gauge how much heavier I’d become since whenever the last time was that you had to pull me up. I didn’t need to beg you to notice how much I grew each day anymore. We could feel me weighing more each time.
I also carried this pregnancy much lower than my previous ones. My third was low but this felt even lower. If I wasn’t wearing a dress, my stretch mark filled belly was peaking out the bottom of any top I had. I realized quickly that it would only be a matter to time before dresses as shirts were going to be the only thing that fit me.
As I progressed stomach looked like it was carrying and being weighed down by a bowling ball. Besides the fact that I was putting on weight more quickly, the way I was carrying the extra weight was affecting my posture. I had given up on trying to prevent stretch marks after my second pregnancy. And they definitely were here during this fourth.
My belly was not the only place I was full of stretch marks on my body- I was spilling out of my shirts. Everything I wore looked inappropriate because it all was too tight. You loved telling me how much you loved to see my boobs jiggle as I walked around. When we lay in bed at night together you often gently use a finger to trace the stretch marks on my body, it helps with the self consciousness that kicks in when your body slowly stops remaining to be just yours.
By five and a half months I was already starting to feel the onset of waddling. People were constantly asking me when I was due and shocked at how much time I still had to go. I would get asked it I was having multiples constantly. And I was already able to start using my belly as a desk.
My body was always a play toy for you and my pregnant body was your favorite play toy. Whether it was absent-mindedly, while you were driving, when we were spooning, when you were lifting my belly to give me relief, or just because you wanted to feel, I loved it. Feeling your hand on me whenever I am pregnant feels better than having your hands on me when I’m not.
Now officially I my third trimester, I already looked ready to pop completely. I was so uncomfortable, I was starting to grow from big round belly to a belly that has nowhere to grow but forward. What was before a bowling ball shape now has a become a heavy round belly that has distinct downward curve that forced me to lean even further back whenever I have to walk (waddle slowly) in order for me to counter the weight pulling me forward. A layer of fat adds permanent love handles that fold at my hips.
I feel ridiculous in my own body. Every part of me is beyond the size of how I had previously carried. My widened hips are forcing me to waddle and prevent anything I owned from fitting. I feel like a caricature of myself. My heavy downward curved stomach refuses to be fully covered unless I wear maxi dresses. My tits is spilling out everything I own. Everything has stretch marks. Under my belly button, my tits, my widened hips, my bigger and softer ass.
And yet. When you come from behind me to lift the fourth belly you’ve given me to help alleviate the back pressure and you whisper in my ear “can we do this one last time?” I can’t find it in me to say no. When you slowly release and the belly goes back to pulling me forward, I wonder if this is the last time I’ll ever feel this way again.
He lets you fill him up every day.
He takes in gallons of water to make his belly bigger for you.
He gave up his six-pack for a huge belly just for you.
He’s ready to become a vessel for you.
And you already know you’ll make him even bigger..
I want you to be huge with my baby. Your belly gravid and heavy with my child. Your breasts swollen and full of milk. Your nipples dark and meaty, engorged and erect. I want to see the milk bead out of them and trickle down your breasts and on that orb of a belly. I want your hips wide and expanded to cradle my child. Your thighs thick and strong from carrying all the extra weight. Your belly covered in stretch marks as the skin is pulled taut. Your belly button popped out and protruding. Your curves more extreme and feminine. Your whole body swollen and womanly. I want to see you with one hand rubbing your belly and the other at the small of your back. I want to hear you complain about how big you’ve gotten. I want to hear you beg me as I drive into you how you wanted this. i want you to beg me to keep you this way. I want to watch you waddle around our bedroom as my cum leaks down your inner thighs.
I want a girl who wants all of that, and in the end, also just wants to cuddle with father of her baby’s large hands all over her belly. A girl who wants a partner in all things and is excited to experience pregnancy with someone as enthralled as she is. I want a girl who wants to be heavily pregnant with my baby….. and is already day dreaming about the other babies she’ll soon be carrying.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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“God, I’m so full. Your cum is delicious, but I don’t think I could drink another drop. I feel like I could pop. But your cock is still rock hard and I do hate to waste a perfectly good erection. Maybe you could fuck me and fill up my pussy with cum…”
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