I'm Chickie, 31 year old non binary person from the Appalachian Mountains. This is my secret kink Tumblr. I'm new to the whole writing/requests/asks thing, but my range of things I'm comfortable writing are below if you wanna send me a dm!
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A farmer is struggling to get the last of his crops harvested before a cold front. He’s managed this small farm by himself for years, but as he’s gotten a little older, he’s struggled to keep up with the demands of the job. This year especially, the work has really been taking it out of him.
He feels like he never quite recovered from the flu he had back in the spring, exhausted and slow all the time, and he’s developed a lingering pain in his hips and back. He suspects some of it is due to the weight he’s gained, his once-pudgy tummy now an unsightly ball gut that juts off his frame, so massive it tugs on his spine. He mentioned it to his neighbor the other day, a woman doctor who rumor has it was once a nun, and she had almost smiled for a moment before telling him he should drink less beer. When he told her he stopped 6 months ago when his belly first started ballooning, her mouth tightened with concern. Her eyes dropped to the peaked point of his navel stretching his shirt, and she told him he should come to her clinic as soon as he’s able, as he could have a serious illness. But he’d waved her off and weaseled out of the discussion— he’d avoided revealing his secret to anyone for twenty-one years and he wasn’t about to break the streak just because some nice doctor asked.
Anyway. The point is, he doesn’t know what’s wrong.
Today, the pain is bad. His back, especially, keeps seizing up, his groans echoing in the empty field. It’s so severe that he’s tempted to abandon the rest of his harvest, but he can’t justify the financial hit he would take. He’s a man, he’ll press through.
Every time he has to squat down, the pain in his pelvis deepens, the pressure becoming more unbearable by the minute. He remembers a relative speaking of kidney stones and hopes he hasn’t caught them. That’s the last thing he needs.
He’s on his hands and knees bundling up rows of produce when he starts to feel like an elephant is stomping his lower spine down into his pelvis. His jaw drops, and a long, plaintive groan tumbles out of him. Instinctively he rocks on his hands and knees, feeling his big fat gut tug on his lumbar region as he arches and twists his back, desperately trying to find relief. When his muscles finally unclench, he wants to just collapse where he is, but he has to keep going. The doctor will be there tomorrow, but these crops sure won’t. There’s still so much more to go…
Though he owns no animals, a lowing like livestock echoes across his property. He hears the noises as if they come from somewhere far away, and not his own heaving chest. Maybe he should be ashamed, or frightened, but it makes a certain kind of sense that he should sound like a beast of burden as he labors on his hands and knees in the field.
Then comes the burn. He drops the handful of produce he was holding, hand instinctively flying to his crotch, where the fire grows angrier by the moment. It must be a kidney stone. What else could—?
He goes completely still. His crotch is hot, hot as the inside of a body, and slowly, slowly swelling under his fingers. Swallowing thickly, he withdraws his hand and slips off one strap of his overalls. Then he wriggles his hand into the waistband. It can’t be…
But there it is. He feels it, plain and solid as the nose on his face, just beneath his cunt lips. They still stretch stubbornly over it, holding it inside of him. But he can feel it on its way. Soon, his body will part. It will part, and—
He flattens his hand against the bulge and shoves. He cries out, but for all the pain, it barely budges. But he can’t let it come out. Trembling, he spreads his legs and twists the palm of his hand, and finally, he feels something give. He pants and squirms from the indescribable discomfort as his aching insides spasm, fighting him as he denies the course of nature. But finally he forces it far enough back that his crotch feels flat beneath his hand.
He tries not to think about it.
But the next time his belly squeezes tight, he feels it heavy and low inside him, searing him as it tries to escape. This time, he wrestles his arm around his tensed-hard belly and shoves his hand inside of his pussy. He finds it close, already about to come out again, and steels himself before pushing it up even further. He roars with pain, and his shoulder strains, and his lower back feels like it’s breaking. But it buys him a little more time.
He goes on like that for ages, stopping every few minutes to force this unwanted complication back inside, to fight the truth he is not ready to consider. It’s taking him forever to finish the harvest, but it would take even longer if he stopped to— no. Don’t think about that. Just push it back in and keep going.
Darkness has long-fallen and the chill has arrived on a biting wind by the time he finishes. Dragging the crates to storage is especially bad, the distraction between his legs burning him every time he bends over. But with a few solid shoves that make his whole body jerk, he crams it away. The sudden torrent of water down the thighs of his overalls, however, he can’t do much about.
Snowflakes catch on his sleeves as he rushes back to the house. His gait is wide and lilting, his crotch in so much pain that it leaves him panting, oxygen thin, head spinning. He makes it inside and tears off his clothes in a frenzy, the coat and shirt and the tight vest he wears beneath leaving a trail from the front door to the steady fire. He stands in front of it, trembling, and looks down at himself.
His chest has grown since he last let himself really look, areola now puffy and dark. His nipples are eager as cow teats and thick as his thumb, jutting from heavy, swollen breasts that sag to either side of his great bulging belly. He thinks of his poked-out navel, and the pressure in his hips, and the grumblings in his gut so strong that they frightened him, that he pretended they weren’t what he knew they were.
Now, he gazes down at himself, heavy with child, and starts to wheeze for breath.
When the next contraction comes, he sees his pregnant belly lift and tighten into an odd shape, though the sight falls away as his eyes clench shut in pain when it— when the child makes his cunt bulge again. In his panic, he cups it and forces it back in once more. Agony lances through what must be the entrance to his womb as the child lurches back in. He gags and tastes bile, eyesight blurring with tears.
But he’s bought a few minutes. He scrambles over to his phone and asks the operator for the doctor’s office. It’s closed, she tells him. He swallows thickly, then asks for her home instead.
“Oh, I guess you don’t want to walk over there in this storm,” the operator muses.
Though it’s more to do with the head splitting his pelvis apart, he agrees.
Finally, the line connects.
“Hel-“
“Doctor, doctor, help me, it’s comin’ outta me!”
“What? Who is this?”
He palms the sweat from his forehead and tries to get ahold of himself, though his voice shakes. “It’s farmer Bryce. You ‘member me, right?”
“Of course. What’s going on?”
“My belly. I know what’s wrong with it.” He gasps a hysterical, sobbing laugh, then groans as the squeeze of his abdominal muscles pushes the head further down. “Ohhhh Lord. Doctor, I—“ The worlds make him feel sick, but he spits them out anyway. “I’m havin’ a baby!”
For a moment, nothing but static. His racing heart somehow goes even faster, his head growing light. “Doctor, I— I wadn’t always a farmer, y’know. When I was young, I was a seamstress, but I— I changed my name and came here, n’that’s why I never let you gimme a physical, see, ‘cause…”
“…Because I would find out.”
He nods. “Please- p-please don’t tell anyone—“
“Don’t worry about that. Just tell me what’s happening. How much of the baby is still inside of you?”
“A-all of it. Keeps tryin’ to come out, but I- I been pushin’ it back in.”
“You—?! Good god. Do not do that again, you could severely injure yourself or the child.”
He swallows thickly. “S-sorry, ma’am.”
“Don’t— I just need you to be safe. How close is the head to coming out?”
“Feels real close.”
“Can you put your fingers in your vagina and tell me if you feel the head?”
“My…?”
“Your- uh— pussy.”
“Oh.”
He leans against a chair and stretches his hand down, following the now-familiar motions of feeling inside his private place. His fingertips find something slick and slimy.
“Yeah, real close. I think it’s— augh!” He doubles over, the labor pain crushing him without mercy, revenge for denying nature all of this time. “Ohh, it hurts! I don’t wanna push it out, I don’t wanna push it out!”
“That’s fine, you can’t push just yet. You need to boil some water, to sanitize some tools. You’ll need rags, your sharpest knife, and scissors.”
He groans. “Wh-what’s the knife for?”
“Just in case I need to make a small incision to help you get the baby out. I’m on my way over.”
“No!” He jerks upright, legs trembling under him, cunt beginning to burn again. “No, please stay on with me, it’s almost out, and- and I can’t- I don’t want you to see. Please.”
“What!?”
“Please, no one’s ever…” he swallows thickly, voice sounding as tight and heavy as his belly. “I don’t want anyone to see.”
“Pardon my frankness, Mr. Bryce, but at least one person must have seen, for you to be delivering a child.”
Though the contraction is finally passing, his weak laugh still makes everything hurt, especially his burning pussy. “N-no, I- I don’t let ‘em see.” He starts to hobble around his kitchen, wincing as he gets out a pot and begins to follow her instructions. “I always make sure to get ‘em plenty drunk, and when I put the lights out, they never notice. It’s just- this last one, I— I was a little drunk, too, and in the morning I did wonder… That is, he was s’posed to go in the, uh, well, he was s’posed to put his pecker someplace that can’t make a baby, but he must’ve… Damn it.” He heaves the pot onto the range and takes out the matches. “I don’t even know his name.” He lights the stove, then blows out the match. “You help a lot of harlots, Doctor?”
“Actually, yes, I have helped many women in that line of work. You wouldn’t have to defend your choices to me if you were one of them, and you don’t have to, now. I’m helping you either way. I’m coming over.”
“Wait! Doctor, please, it’s private, I don’t want…” He swallows back the urge to sob and rubs the heel of his hand against his forehead. “Please. Just, tell me what to do?”
She groans, then sighs heavily. “Fine. I’m only agreeing to this because you’ll probably deliver before I make it there through this storm, anyway.”
His heart races. “I’m that close?”
“Probably so. In fact, you should be having ano—“
“Ohhh Lord!” Instinctively, his knees bend and he drops into a heavy crouch right where he stands, sucking air through his teeth as his cunt burns. “God Almighty, the head’s comin’ out!”
“How much of the head? Feel for me.”
He snakes a shaking hand down and chokes out a humorless, incredulous laugh. “Barely any. Just- hah- a sliver. Oh, Lord, it hurts! Why does it hurt so bad already?”
“I know, it hurts a lot. Walking around will help, and it’ll open up your pelvis.”
“Haaaaagh…” He drags himself up to his feet. “Hoooh my lorrrrd,” he groans, clutching helplessly at his bulging pussy. The head feels so big and heavy, like a millstone- he doesn’t understand how it doesn’t just fall right out. He continues to moan as he starts his bow-legged pacing around the room.
“M’walking,” he grunts.
“Good. Keep walking. You’ll probably have the next contraction in about three minutes.”
His stomach twists. “How do you know?”
“I’ve delivered a lot of babies. Now, it’s probably going to take a few more contractions, but when your va- your, uh, pussy makes a big round shape around the head, I’ll tell you how much to push.”
He pants. “Feels like- I need to push now.”
“Not yet. You’ll wear yourself out if you push between contractions. But you can push with every contraction until you start to crown. You’ll want to slow down then, so that you don’t tear. Once the head is out, the baby will—“
“Wait, wait, don’t-“ He shakes his head. “S’too many steps. I’m all discombobulated right now, I won’t ‘member. One thing at a time? Please?”
“Uh- sure. We can do that. Focus on pacing. When the next contraction comes, try leaning on something or getting on your hands and knees.”
“Okay.”
About ten seconds of silence pass before he feels like he’s going to scream. “Uh- so- you helped a lot of babies be born?”
“Yes. Previously, I mostly worked as a midwife. In fact-“ She chuckles softly. “When you asked me the other day about your distended abdomen—your belly being so big, that is—my first thought was that you looked pregnant. I thought I must be letting my history get the better of me, and had to have a laugh at myself.”
The idea that he’s been walking around pregnant hits him upside the head, making him feel very strange. How many people looked at his belly and guessed the truth he’d been avoiding? He clutches at it, the fine hair that covers much of his body, and the bright stretch marks where his sides have swollen these last months.
Under his hand, he feels it begin to tighten. “Ohh, it’s happenin’ again…!”
“Two and a half minutes apart, now. You’re doing great, Mr. Bryce.”
He doesn’t feel like he’s doing great, but the doctor keeps on telling him so as he paces through the last of the contractions. By her timing, it only takes twenty minutes, but it feels like years as the head of his child slowly, slowly spreads his cunt wider.
A particularly intense contraction comes, and his pussy somehow hurts even worse. He collapses against the back of the couch, a shout scraping his throat, nearly a scream. His chest jumps with panting, breasts hanging heavy beneath him. “S’comin’ out! S’too big! Aaaaah- ah, lord, it hurts!”
“Okay, you’re probably about to crown. You need to stop pushing for a moment, okay? But get ready for the baby to come, it won’t be long, now.”
His head spins as he hobbles to where he’s laid out the sterilized tools next to folded blankets and lumbers down onto his hands and knees. Long and deep, he groans at the feeling of his backside bulging out between his legs.
“Can I push it out?!”
“Not yet. Next one, okay? Just a minute or two. Press your fingers around the edges, especially right behind, and it’ll help.”
He can barely hear her over his own wheezing and moaning, but he follows the doctor’s instructions, leaning the arm with the phone against a chair and stretching his other arm back to press his fingers to the screaming skin between his two holes. The fear that he might rip right down between them fades as he feels the pressure ease.
When his belly pulls tight, he’s ready. “Here it is, it’s comin’. I’m- mnnn—“
“Okay, give me a push, just a little one.”
It’s hard not to bear down with all his might. He’s never felt so urgent, not even in the fields, scrambling to save his livelihood from the storm.
He spreads his shaking fingers around the stinging flesh and sobs a shout as he feels the extent of his transformation, his cunt stretched farther than he ever guessed it could, a perfect dome hanging heavy between his legs. At the center, it opens in a broad circle around the head.
“Ohhh lord, it’s there. It’s right there, it’s comin’ outta my pussy, I need it out!”
“Not yet, okay? You don’t want to tear. Just a few more minutes.”
“Noooo,” he groans, shaking his head. “I can’t…”
“You can. You’re doing great.”
“M’not… Get it outta meeeee…” He lays his forehead on the chair. His hips try to rock, but even the slightest movement eases the head forward, spikes of pain making him freeze with a whimper. Delicately as he can, he ends up circling his hips, unable to stop picturing how far his cunt sticks out from his body, barely clinging to the head of the child.
His belly leaps, and everything tightens again. “It’s comin’! I need to push, lemme push!”
“Okay, keep that pressure on it, and push! Push it out!”
“I’m pushin’, I’m pushinnnn!”
His whole purpose narrows to that single point, body tapping into something ancient, opening for the fruit of his womb, just as bodies have for generations before him. It’s primal, desperate, making him feel like an animal trying to wrench itself free from the excruciating torment of stretching open, yes, but— something else. There’s a longing to push this babe into the world. To pull it from his body and see with his own eyes the creature he could barely think of an hour ago. To find out what grew within him, what his body has always been capable of, no matter how he dressed it.
The deep hum of effort in his throat rises and rises, a shout, then a roar, then—
“AAAUGH!”
He screams like he hasn’t since he was a babe, himself. But by the time he’s catching his breath, the excruciation has reduced to a quiet throb. Beneath his hand, he feels a strange, slimy texture, and soft papery flesh, and the undeniable curve of a little cheek.
Tears drip from his chin as he gasps for breath. “Oh. Oh lord. Oh, good god.”
“Is it out?”
“S’out. The head. It came outta me. A- a baby’s comin’ outta me.”
“Incredible. Quickly now, feel around the neck for the cord. You can’t push anymore until you’re sure the cord isn’t around the neck.”
He winces as he prods at the tender edge of his hole, still stretched, but nothing like it was at the crown. “N-no, I don’t think there’s a cord.”
“Okay. Amazing. You’re almost there.” Genuine joy shines through the crackling phone line. “Push just a little, and that’ll help the baby turn, so the shoulders can get through.”
“Okay.” He feels a little dubious about the idea of pushing out shoulders, but rests both arms on the chair in front of him and pushes until he feels the babe begin to turn inside him. “Ohhh. Mmmmmmmm. S’working.”
Static crowds out her voice. “You’re doing so well, y… trong. Bear down with the next con…n. You mi…”
His heart jumps into his throat. “Doctor?!”
“…storm’s getting… isten, you can p…cond shoulder out af…r you push out the first one, okay?”
“What?”
“Y… an pull out seco… oulder after you… one!”
“Doc, I can’t— hoooooh lord.” What must be the baby’s shoulder digs at his poor stinging taint. He grits his teeth and pushes, pushes— then yelps as it pops free. He reaches back to feel, finding one shoulder out. The doctor’s words suddenly click, and he shifts back onto his heels, dropping the phone to reach for the squirming purple shape between his legs with both hands. A tug, a final yelp of pain, and he pulls the infant out of his body.
He wilts where he kneels, legs trembling, wincing at the sensation of blood and water pouring from him, feeling the cord stretch over his belly. The babe makes odd, jerky movements against him, unused to stretching its limbs so far. He fumbles for the warm sterile rag and uses it to rub vigorously at the child, removing gunk and encouraging its blood to flow, until finally, a small, warbling cry bursts out.
His hands start to shake. It’s alive. A living thing just came out of him. He pushed it out, and here it is, his responsibility now. An ugly little thing, somehow already so precious to him that his ribs feel too small to contain his heart.
With shaky breaths, he reaches for the phone, hanging by its cord around a slat of the chair. It’s still connected, though he hears only a few stray syllables of voice between bouts of static.
“Doctor, I dunno if you can hear me, but— it came out. I- I had the baby. I guess you can hear the cryin’. But we’re both okay. He’s healthy. M-mighty strong lungs. Hah. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“…lad you’re s… good jo… e afterb… kay?”
“Uh… can you repeat—?”
Suddenly the static rises, and the line goes dead. The rising howl of wind outside leaves little question as to the culprit. He stares at the cold, dark world outside the small window, then back at the wrinkly little creature in his arms.
“Hello,” he breathes. “Sorry, everything’s a mess, buddy, I didn’t know…” He swallows thickly, trying not to think about how little idea he has of what to do.
But it isn’t so hard. When the babe’s little mouth begins to root across his skin, it only makes sense to bring it to his tingling nipple. He ties and cuts the cord while the babe drinks, and replaces the cooling rag with a warm blanket.
Though he has a vague idea that the afterbirth is supposed to come, he waits on the birthing mat for a long while, and nothing happens. He tries tugging at the end of the cord still coming out of him, and winces as it does nothing but strain his poor cunt. He does begin to have contractions again, and feels it shifting lower in his hips, far heavier than he would have guessed, but it’s certainly taking its sweet time. He winces and rubs at the still-bloated curve of his belly. He supposes it’ll come when it comes, and gets up.
He removes a drawer from his dresser and makes a tiny bed of it, and does his best to firmly swaddle the babe before resting it inside. Though he did not know it existed a mere few hours ago, he can’t stop looking at it, now, constantly checking to be sure it’s okay as he showers away the filth of childbirth. When he’s done, he squats over the drain and bears down, hoping to be rid of the afterbirth. Nothing comes out, but a contraction does grip him, so he figures it can’t be long.
Though he’s exhausted, he’s far too excitable to sleep, and he doesn’t want the afterbirth coming in his bed, anyway, so he stays up. He nurses the new babe, and groans softly as the contractions mount, leaving his muscles feeling limp and shaky.
Two hours after he pushed out the babe, he feels the need to push again. The oppressive weight inside of him makes him groan, squatting and rocking his hips at his bedside. He never knew the afterbirth was such an unpleasant ordeal. It hurts as badly as giving birth!
On a particularly hard push, he feels a release of pressure, and water gushes between his legs as the weight suddenly plunges low enough to sting his cunt. He gasps and moans like he’s touched a hot stove, instinctively shaking his head. God. God, it’s just like…
His eyes fly open. A sense of deja vu washes over him as he thinks no way, and reaches between his legs. He dips his fingers into his tender hole—
And there it is. The curve of a skull.
A twin.
“Good lord,” he whispers. “Lord, lord, this can’t be, it, it…”
A contraction wrings him out, the second baby beginning to strain his cunt lips. He shakes his head, desperate not to go through this again, but there’s nothing he can do. He tries to breathe, to stay steady, as his body births the second unexpected bastard of the day.
He thanks the lord for the doctor’s help, remembering her words when the crowning comes. This time he screams through it, screams until his voice gives out, his already-battered cunt forced to endure the stretch of another head so soon after the first. He survives the slow emergence, resisting his desperate need to push, and then finally, it’s time.
He bears down with all his might. But this time, the head doesn’t come. The contraction leaves him, and he hangs his head, wheezing. That’s okay. He’ll get it on the next one.
“C’mon, baby,” he mumbles, “I know it’s cold out here, but it’s not so bad. There’s blankets, daddy’s milk… c’mon…”
But he can’t push it out on the next contraction, either. “What- what, no—“ he pants, shaking his head as the contraction fades, the babe moved no further. “No, no, c’mon! Get out! Get outta me!”
But it doesn’t come. He pushes until his legs tremble under him, fingers cramping from gripping the sheets. Unsure how much longer he can keep himself upright, he shakily shifts back, minding the globe of stretched tissue and heavy head bulging between his legs, and lays down.
Pushing from this position is significantly harder, the child’s weight like an anvil on his lower spine, but he’s too weak to change positions again. He closes his eyes against the dripping sweat and gives everything he has, then more, until his whole body trembles. Pitifully he shakes his head and thrusts his hips, trying to force it out. He pushes, and pushes, and pushes, and he burns, and burns, and—
“Fuck!”
The head bursts out in a gush of fluids. He lies there panting. He can’t quite bring himself to feel the wonder he felt the first time. It’s just another person emerging from his pussy. At least it’s almost over.
He pushes on the shoulders, readying his hands to catch the child. The head eases forward, further, further, rising as the swell of the shoulder stretches him. But he has to stop for breath, and the babe sinks back in, chin smushed flat to his body, shoulders dragged back in. He groans in frustration and pain. Okay, okay, one more. Just one more.
But the shoulders don’t come on the next one. Or the next. In fact, he pushes again and again for the next several contractions, and nothing happens. Panic gives him his second wind, and he drags himself back to squatting beside the bed. He pushes that way, but nothing changes.
He tries on his knees, on his side, standing, even walking. But the head only ever bobs between his legs, no more of the babe to be seen.
Oh no.
“It’s stuck,” he gasps, feeling it bob between his thighs as he pants for air. “It’s stuck!”
He wants to pull on it, but what if he hurts it? Wants to stretch his pussy, but even when he tries, he can’t get his fingers in there. God, he needs a doctor, he needs—
The bottom drops out of his stomach. He realizes what he has to do.
He chooses thick, loose clothes. Heavy boots. Hisses through his teeth as he pulls on his long johns, dizzied by the shape poking between his thighs. Even after he adds his trousers and overalls, it’s still an absurd stretch between his legs, straining the fabric. It’s hard to think about anything other than the weight of it, an ongoing emergency that shifts with each gasp for air and slides just the barest bit out with each contraction before coming back in, so reluctant to leave him.
He bundles up his firstborn as tightly as he can, and binds them to his chest, hoping he struck the right balance between protecting them from the storm and leaving them room to breathe.
And he sets off into the storm.
He doesn’t walk so much as rock methodically from one foot to the next, feeling with every step how the body burdening him spreads his cervix and fills his pussy and hangs from cunt.
It’s a long journey, especially when contractions slow him every few minutes. He knows it does no good to push, but he can’t help himself, stopping to lean against trees or fence posts and roaring through his teeth as he bares down, trying to budge the child. But he never feels more than the head inching forward and sinking back. He grits his teeth and swallows back bitter tears, trying to hush the voices that ask how he can think himself a man when his body gapes around a child.
Finally, in the distance, he glimpses light through the storm. He drags himself a few paces forward to be sure his eyes aren’t playing tricks on him, and then screams with what’s left of his voice for help. He sounds garish, throat stripped by hours of labor.
Beneath the whistle of the storm, he hears a door slam. Then— yes, thank god, footsteps.
“Who’s there?” a voice calls, feminine, but harsher and accented differently than the doctor’s. He doesn’t even have any energy left for fear when the barrel of a shotgun precedes her in entering his lantern light.
“Please,” he croaks, knees shaking. “Need- th’doctor. My baby…”
She lowers the gun immediately, eyes wide. “It was—? Okay, right, come on.” She bounds over and wraps a broad arm around him. He whimpers and must reach down to grip the head of his half-born child as he stumbles forward, but he manages to keep her pace.
The woman leads him to the stoop of a humble house and opens the door, and there inside, with warm lamplight glowing through her curls, the good doctor waits for him. For a moment, her gently clasped hands and the shawl pouring over her arms make her look like she belongs in one of those windows in those fancy churches in town.
“Doc,” he whispers.
Then she rushes towards him, looking rumpled and half-dressed, like she woke only moments ago. “Farmer Bryce!?”
“His baby,” the other woman says, closing the door behind them. His ears ring with the sudden absence of the storm.
The doctor scoops his firstborn from the little sling, eyes sharp and intent as she looks the child over. “What’s happened? Did—?”
“Not that one.” Finally he lets his trembling knees win, and stumbles back against the door. He unclasps his overalls and grabs a handful of fabric around his waist, clumsily pulling it all down to reveal the head jutting from his swollen-red pussy.
“Jesus christ!” says the broad woman.
The doctor’s eyes go wide, but she wastes no time being startled, handing the swaddled babe off to her companion. “Bring clean linens, boiling water, and my instruments. I’ll call if I need a hand.”
“Right,” she the other womanfaintly, and tears her eyes away from the spectacle before vanishing into some direction that he doesn’t bother to look at, because he’s having another contraction.
“God…” He sounds like a dead man. Unable to deny instinct, he gives a feeble push, and his own head falls back against the door with a whimper as the child’s head bobs between his thighs. “S’stuck,” he murmurs. “Came out… b’fore midnight, and I been pushin’ since then. Hasn’t budged…”
The doctor comes close, looking very, very serious. A cold pit opens in his chest.
“You need to do exactly as I say.”
“O-okay.”
She bends and finishes pulling off his bottoms, leaving his bare legs trembling below the layers of shirts and coat up top. “Get on your back.”
She helps him fumble his way to the floor, tucking one of her hands under the baby’s head so he doesn’t have to worry about hurting them as he situates himself. Just as he’s almost flat, the other woman returns with one arm stacked full of supplies.
“Thanks, love,” the doc says, and takes the sheet first, spreading it under his hips. She tells him, “Now pull your legs back as far as you can,” and it says a lot about how dire the situation is that it only occurs to him to be humiliated now, as if everyone in the room hasn’t already seen that he’s a man with a baby hanging out of his pussy.
Still, the good doctor must catch the look on his face as he starts to pull his thighs back, because she grabs the rest of her supplies and hurries the other woman out of the room. She surveys his best efforts to follow her directions, then leans forward and pushes his knees even further back, wrenching a groan out of him as his heavy pussy is tilted up and his thighs press against the still-swollen sides of his belly.
“There we go,” she says. “We’re gonna wait for a contraction, then I’m gonna push on your belly to help you get the baby out. I believe one of their shoulders is stuck on your pubic bone.”
He nods, trying not to let his heavy eyes shut. “Will it hurt?”
“…Yes, but no more than what you’ve already experienced.”
One of his cheeks twitches as he tries to smile at that. Then his face falls.
“Ohhh, here it comes—“
“Push!”
“Hnnnnnnngh!”
He digs his fingers into the backs of his thighs, jams his chin to his chest, and pushes as hard as he can. The world goes quiet and his head feels light. Every muscle trembles. Then there’s a completely new type of pain. His clenched eyes flutter open just long to see the doc shoving both hands hard into his lower belly, denting the round surface, and he wails at the sensation of his cramping womb stretching around the child as she manipulates it inside him. Like a kick to the pelvis, or a dozen, and still he must push.
But suddenly the doc cries, “There!” and something lurches against his spine, then pressure jabs at his cunt. He breaks the push with a yelp of surprise, but the shoulder still comes barreling out of him. He screams at the stretch, head falling back, panting.
“Oh… good god…”
“Good! Good, now I’m gonna pull the baby out, okay?”
He barely has time to cringe before the second shoulder stretches him, and finally the oppressive weight inside him slips out. He feels absolutely empty, like a load-bearing piece has been removed and his skeleton will simply crumble. All he can do is lie there.
After a little bit of rustling and the sound of skin patting skin, the baby’s cries pierce the air.
His chest heaves, and tears spill over his cheeks. “Everything okay?” he croaks.
“Yeah. Well- he likely has a shoulder injury, but nothing serious. You did it, Mr. Bryce.”
He rolls his head back and forth on the floor, as close to shaking it as he can bother with right now. “Think… think we’re on a first name basis, doc.”
She huffs a deep, crackling laugh. “Right. Penelope. And you’re… Benjamin, right?”
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🌲 forest
🏖️ beach
🏠 home
🚜 farm
🏢 office building
🏥 hospital
🛒 store
🚃 train/subway
🚗 car
🚌 bus
⛵ boat
✈️ plane
🧭 other (requestor specify)
MANNER OF DENIAL
🩲 tight clothing
🫴 holding head
🖐️ pushing baby back in
🔒 chastity belt
🪢 legs tied together
🤸 bad positions
💬 being told not to push
🛑 refusing to push
💊 medication
🔌 plug/other toy
🚩 forced denial
🏳️ willing denial
🃏 other (requestor specify)
POSITIONS
🧍 standing
🪑 sitting
🧎 kneeling
🙇 all fours
🛌 laying down
🦵 squatting
💧 water birth
🧘 other (requestor specify)
Ugh I love pregnant businessmen… really like the idea of a high level exec with like 800 important projects frantically waddling around in a shirt like four sizes too big for him but the buttons are still straining around the torpedo triplet belly that enters rooms long before the rest of him. Everyone’s afraid to question him but they can’t help but stare at his visibly contracting belly, and he tells them yeah yeah he was supposed to have had the kids and be on paternity leave already, but it’s fine, he has so many loose ends to tie up!
He arrived at work at 7AM sharp with the labor suppressants on hand but he hasn’t taken them yet cause they’re an extreme measure. So even though he keeps having to stop during conversations to lean on tables and groan his way through brutal contractions, he still doesn’t think it’s time for the pills. He’s coated in sweat and idly circling his hips as he talks to coworkers, trying to find a way to stand where the lowest baby’s head doesn’t feel so heavy.
He’s touching base about his most important project at 10:00AM when he starts to feel the need to push. But he just… doesn’t. Resists it even though it makes him feel squirmy and uneasy and like he wants to scream. Mumbles, “Don’t push, dooon’t push” to himself as he tries and fails to jog to his office after, too bow-legged by the feeling that a head is about to fall out of him.
He manages to duck into his office’s private bathroom and get his pants off before his water breaks. But when he examines himself in the full length mirror, he finds the first baby already making a bulging dome of his pussy, and resigns himself to pushing it out. He leans back on a chair he brought in for this purpose and watches his cunt slowly flex open with each push, shuddering at the sight. The pressure makes his meta cock stand up, making it look as huge and swollen as it ever has.
After a good half hour of watching the head bob closer and closer to its widest point before sinking back in, it finally stays, spreading his hole in a tight crown. He throws his head back and groans in pain, toes curling as he drags his fingertips delicately over his taut cunt lips. He massages his perineum and applies counter pressure as the head slowly, slowly teases him, always looking ready to pop out. Finally it bursts out, and he yelps, shuddering. He delivers in a few more pushes.
By 11, he’s sent his first baby on its way with one of the nannies he’s had on standby and is ready to jump back in to his schedule. He tosses back a dose of labor suppressant pills before he goes, and they work like a dream. The contractions ease up enough that they’re practically background noise, only the pressure of a low head occasionally reminding him that birth is imminent.
He works all the way until 4PM before the pressure starts to be too intense to think through, and he decides he should probably at least check what’s going on down there. He steps into the empty office of someone who went home early and reaches into his pants—only to find a head peeking out into his underwear! It thrills him almost as much as it annoys him; they should really have a warning on the label if the pills can’t handle a birth canal that’s already opened for another baby.
Oh well. Nothing for it. He limps back to his office and drops into a squat as soon as he closes the door, groaning at the relief of his pelvis flaring open. He hisses through his teeth as the head surges forward, stinging his cunt, and cups his bulging lips, exhaling shakily as he tries to massage them. The positioning just happens to make his palm into a nice little divot for his swollen cock to rub against, and he feels it going rock hard as his cunt grows round and heavy with the barely-held head. He keeps it there, rocking his hips and massaging for a long while before finally the pressure is unbearable, and he starts to push.
He crowns quickly, and this time as he tends to his stretched lips, he circles his fingertips around his perked cock every once in a while, too, teasing it. When he births the head, the release of pressure almost feels like something more, so much so that it leaves his cock pulsing and tender to the touch. But he leaves the poor little thing lonely while he guides his second baby out, easily pushing out one shoulder and then the other.
After another nanny from his team whisks away the new child, and he rubs the limp, heavy shape of the one remaining in his womb. He glances at his watch, seeing it’s only a bit after 4:30. The pills might not be enough to get him through the business dinner tonight—hors d'oeuvres will start at 5:00, main course at 6:00, and the execs will probably want to stay for coffee after the sales guys leave, so that could go to 9 or 10, easy. And with his birth canal now twice-loosened… he needs something more.
He unlocks the special drawer of his desk and hums thoughtfully as he surveys the contents. His selection of toys has seen a lot of use during his pregnancy; sometimes nothing can satisfy the hormones like wearing a vibe all day or sitting on a dildo during a video call. But one item that hasn’t seen much use is a massive plug. He intended to use it to stretch himself out before the births, but his one attempt to get it in had failed after over an hour of trying. Now, though…
He spreads his legs, and gently holds his tender, birth-stretched lips back. He had to give up at 3/4ths of the way inside when he first tried it, but this time the plug glides easily to that depth. His aching birth canal clutches at it, and he rolls his head back, squirming in exquisite pain. With slow, gentle screwing motions back and forth, he works the plug in. It’s massive, but it still feels small compared to a head.
“Come on,” he moans, “come on, c—AH!” His body jerks as the plug pops inside, settling happily beyond the still remarkably elastic muscles around his opening, nudging heavily against his poor cervix. He cringes and squirms a little, feeling something almost like suction as his dilated cervix flexes around the blunt nose of the toy. “Ohhh fuck…”
It’s massive. His overused cunt stings around it and the discomfort of it peeking into his womb makes him feel almost sick, but he knows one thing for sure: that baby isn’t going anywhere while he’s plugged like this.
He staggers to his feet, and spends the whole time getting ready for the dinner groaning loud and long as the plug shifts inside him, its weight bullying his cunt for every moment. His little cock tents his briefs, standing so hard that he can even see it through his slacks, though he doubts anyone else would notice, especially beneath the shadow of his still-huge belly. Though he’s pushed out two of the triplets now, his womb still feels half-full, maybe more.
He’s still big enough that no one at the dinner seems to suspect that he’s already started delivering. They can tell he’s close, what with the slow, wincing, wide-stanced way that he walks, and how he can’t stop shifting when seated, but no one bothers him about it as he keeps his spirits high and the subject on business.
After it takes two employees to help him groan himself to his feet, he waddles heavily into the bathroom to check the plug. There’s so much pressure that he isn’t surprised when he sees his crotch bulging obscenely low, so stretched that it’s shaped like a head is halfway out of him even though there’s barely a glimpse of the dildo’s silicone between his puffy red lips. He shudders and strokes his perked dick, eyes rolling back at its sheer sensitivity.
Though he could spend hours touching his birth-swollen cunt, he knows the other execs are waiting for him in the lounge. He’s shuffling slow with a hand to his back and his hips heavily forward when he joins them. Without the employees to behave for, half the exec board is coming over to tease him about how close he looks, and tell him he really should be in the hospital, and feel his still-shockingly-taut belly beneath his straining shirt. He indulges in their attention, subtly rocking his hips to feel the massive plug.
But soon, too soon, he feels the breath-stealing cramp of a head splitting his cervix. His cunt lips sting, cupped between the weight of his plug-deformed pussy and the crotch of his slacks.
With ties loosened around the room and more than a little of someone’s flask of whiskey shared between most of the execs, they’re bolder in watching him. One of the board members reclines on a couch, trailing fingers over the stark line stretching the crotch of his slacks. The vice president of marketing sits on the arm of a chair, her sharp pencil skirt hiked halfway up her thigh and her hips rolling against the upholstery.
It’s the CFO who finally approaches him.
“What’s this?” His deep, cool baritone makes the pregnant man shudder, and that’s before the heavy hand with the Rolex on the wrist cups his bulging crotch. “The head’s coming?”
“No.” He groans and lets his head fall back, settling his weighty cunt in this powerful man’s hand. “Head’s… in my cervix. Mmh.” The suppressant is beginning to wear off, the single steady cramp he’s felt all around his pelvic cradle tightening into something with more promise. “Ohhhh…”
“Then what’s this?” The CFO gently hefts the weight in his hand, and the laboring exec moans wretchedly.
“Ohhh, fuck. It’s- a plug. It’s plugging me up. Keeping the baby in. But- I feel it coming.” Before he knows what’s happening, his cunt bulges and the plug presses firmly against the CFO’s palm. “Oh- fuck, I’m pushing… oh…”
The CFO makes a low, purring sound. He strokes the straining pussy in his hand. “Why don’t you show us, baby?”
His head spins, the burn in his pussy increasing as he pushes the head firmly into his cervix. The contraction passes, leaving him gasping, swaying his hips, groaning. The CFO, still holding him by the bulge of his crotch, guides him by the plugged pussy to an ornate rug in the middle of the room. He unbuttons the laboring exec’s slacks and tugs them down, along with his soaked underwear.
“Come on, be a team player and show us.”
His cock aches as he sinks shakily to his knees. As a contraction grips his lower back, he groans and falls forward onto his hands, leaving his bare pussy upturned between his legs, showing the room how it stretches obscenely around the massive plug. The whole room watches as more and more black silicone inches out.
“Holy shit, he really plugged his cunt up,” someone says.
The exec in the pencil skirt draws a knee up and lets a hand fall between her toned thighs, openly circling two manicured nails over the seam of her pantyhose. “He likes it. Being good and plugged for us this whole time.”
With a wrung-out moan, he releases the push, shuddering as he feels his lips suck the plug back in. He rocks in place, limbs trembling as the muscles in his lower body remain seized tight around the head in his cervix.
He’s still catching his breath when his belly tenses towards him again. He gasps, disoriented by how quickly that came on, what was that, a minute? 30 seconds?
“It’s coming,” he groans as his cunt squeezes uselessly around the plug. “The baby’s coming, I need to push it out…”
“Hm.” Footsteps behind him. Then, a playful tap on the base of the plug, barely a nudge but still enough to make him whimper and jerk away from the stimulus. “Well,” says the CFO, “I guess you need to push out this plug, first.”
The thing is, he could reach around and get the plug out of his own pussy if it came to it. There is no actual reason to continue to endure this pain, the gut-twisting discomfort of being blocked from birthing.
But his cock is so hard.
Panting, he hangs his head and pushes.
Though the plug is a bit smaller than the heads he’s already crowned today, the base is so unforgivingly flat that every time he gets close to expelling it, his burning, swollen cunt lips just won’t relinquish the corners. He can feel his cunt bulging out far, so stretched that he realizes with a lurch of twisted heat that it will never be the same after this.
And every time the plug sinks back in, the corner drags over his gspot, making his engorged cock jump at the peak of his yawning cunt.
He pushes for a long time, until his whole body quivers and drips with cold sweat. He manages to push the baby’s head through his cervix, but that only forces it in alongside the plug, making him wail as the plug wedges at an angle against the wall of his birth canal, straining it well beyond its ability and forcing his opening to stretch abruptly to the left.
“AUGH!” He sounds like a kicked dog, his voice coming in rasping barks and whines. “Fuck, I need it out, I need it out, the head, the head—!”
“Aw,” says the CFO, pulling out of the drooling minor exec who’s been choking on his cock, “it’s okay if you can’t do it. You should have told me it was too big.”
He pants, feeling the part of the child still in his womb bounce with his aching abdominal muscles. His cunt twitches futilely. Then, when a contraction comes, he tucks his chin to his chest and lows as he pushes with everything he’s got. The plug surges inside him, straining at his entrance for a second, two, three…
“AaaaaAAAAUGH!” A throat-tearing scream busts out of him just as the plug does. The hunk of silicone makes a thunderous noise when it hits the floor, and people around the room gasp and marvel at the sight of it.
The CFO laughs in delight and calls him a good boy, and he only half-listens, because the shoulders of his final baby just spread his cervix and the head is heavy in his cunt. After so much stimulation, the pressure of the skull on his gspot makes his cock so hard it stings.
“Ohhhhh…” he starts to rock on his hands and knees, swiveling his hips around. “Oh, please. I need it. There, there, there—“ he babbles desperately to his own body as he tries to position it just right, chasing that swelling, pulling feeling beneath the pain, that release just a breath away…
He contracts and screams as he pushes the head to a crown. “I’m so full,” he groans, “so full.” He hears exclamations and expletives as everyone looks at his swollen pussy framing the perfect circle of the emerging head. “So full, the pressure, it’s so, it’s so…” He goes down on his elbows and keeps rocking, moaning brokenly as the position piles pressure on his gspot. His cock is a burning, pulsing point of sensation.
“Ohhhh here it comes, here it comes, I’m gonna push it out, I’m gonna, I’m gonna—!” He goes lightheaded with effort and feels his cunt budge the head as it clenches, his cock tingling, and-
The sudden relief of birthing the head tips him over the edge, and he screams as he cums, rutting weakly in the air as his twitching cock goes overstimulated and untouched. It keeps washing over him, making him twist and grip at the carpet and keep pushing, and with a surge of agony and unbearable pleasure, he thrusts his hips back and cums out the shoulders.
He collapses with the baby still halfway in his cunt, eyelids fluttering, whole body pulsing. People are speaking to him, but he ignores them for the moment to enjoy the aftershocks; after all, his paternity leave has officially started.
Jacob knows as soon as he wakes to an empty bed that today is the day.
He gets up immediately, quickly finding his robe and slipper and going in search of his mate. They'd been preparing for weeks, ever since Thiago had mentioned he thought he may be pregnant. His belly had rounded out quickly, swelling full and heavy as the days passed.
Jacob checks the normal places the man had considered for their nest - the couch, the closet, the pantry. They've prepared all these places for delivery in case Thiago had chosen to labor there.
But each place is Thiago-less, despite there being evidence he had been there. The blankets on the couch are in disarray, a pile of clothing pulled from their hangers and made into a half-hearted attempt at a nest, and the portable nightlight theyd placed in the pantry was on.
There's one more place that Thiago could be, and Jacob isn't at all surprised to find him there.
He creeps into the laundry room quietly, careful not to disturb his lover as he shifts around in his nest of old blankets and clothing in the corner of the room.
A light sheen of sweat is glistening on his skin, his thick black hair tied back as he lays on his side, palming softly at his heavy belly. His eyes are heavily lidded, flicking up in Jacob's direction as he steps into the room.
Jacob tiptoes across the room, knowing good and well not to enter the nest without Thiago's permission. Instead, he settles on his knees outside the nest, watching in quiet trepidation as his mate lifts his head to look at him.
His eyes are still heavily lidded, a hazy look in his eyes that leads Jacob to believe that they might not have very long at all before he begins birthing. He pets gently at his hair, a hand slipping down to hold his side as Thiago scoots a little closer to him in the nest.
"Is it gonna be soon?" He asks softly, feeling their litter shifting low inside Thiago's heavy belly.
The doctor had said at least four, an average for Thiago by now. This was his sixth litter in as many years, and by this point they'd learned what to expect when the time came.
His waters haven't broken, that much is evident by the lack of mess in the nest, but the contractions are certainly close enough together for Jacob to assume he's in active labour by now.
Thiago nods shakily, shifting his hips in discomfort as something rolled under Jacob's hand, preparing for delivery. They were low in his belly, slotting up for the next part of this journey.
"They're low-" He murmurs, laying his head back down on the side of the nest and stretching his back out, "Any minute now, I think."
And indeed, as the words heave his mouth his sides draw tight, his stomach contracting harshly enough that its visible to both of them. Thiago closes his eyes, panting through his open mouth as his sides heave. Jacob feels the pressure begin to build, pulling at his partner from the inside as he continues to pant rapidly.
His legs stretch out, extended fully as the contraction peaks, his body stiffens. He grimaced suddenly, a grunt escaping him when something changed inside him.
Jacob immediately knows what just happened, especially when a moment later Thiago begins to arch his back, his leg instinctively bending and planting flat on the ground as the first of their litter began pressing its way down inside of him.
It gives Jacob the perfect view of his swollen pussy from this angle, the barest hint of a bulge beginning to form at the junction of his hips and pelvis.
Thiago spends the next few contractions in this position, leg held open as his belly heaves and tightens above it. The baby sinks lower and lower, the defined shape of the mass steadily bulging him out until it reaches his lips.
It sits there for a moment, looking so heavy and round inside of Thiago while the rest of the litter contine to make their way down. Thiago pants and whines, his thighs shaking and his breath coming in rapid puffs as his instincts begin to take over.
"Oh- it's right there." He grits out, teeth gnashing as he rocks his hips, thigh shaking from being held open.
Jacob nods, watching intently as Thiago squeezes his eyes shut and starts panting again, the bulge between his legs starting to come down low enough that its fully pressed against his slit.
The bulge looks big, his lips just barely managing to hold it back. Jacob wants to reach out and touch, but knows not to yet. Thiago will ask for help if he needs it, so Jacob sticks with stroking the heaving side of his pregnant belly and softly petting his hair, cooing soft affirmations to his laboring mate.
It's not long before he's grunting, shifting his legs apart even further and resting a hand on the side of his globe of a stomach that's spilling out heavily across the nest in front of him.
Thiago pants rapidly, still clutching at his belly with one hand when his back arches, and he draws up one leg so that his hips are open wide.
Jacob watches in amazement as his lips part, his bags of waters bulging from his slit in an amazing way that always humbles Jacob every single time he sees it.
"Oh god, my waters -" Thiago groans out as he tries to snake a hand around his heavy belly to feel his slick, open hole, "My waters are coming out!"
He can't quite reach around his heavy belly to feel, but for a split second, his fingers press against the bag that's now ruthlessly holding him open. He pushes against it, trying to release some of the pressure that's coming from being split open like he is.
"You're doing so good," Jacob murmurs softly to him when he relaxes slightly, "So good, baby, you're stretching so well for me."
Thiago only gives a soft flick of his ear to indicate hes heard Jacob, instead sinking back down against the edge of the nest and shifting and squirming to get himself comfortable.
Its a fools errand, and they both know it. For Thiago, there's no escaping the pressure and pain of birth until he's... well, birthed. But he does move around a good bit in between the contractions, pausing only to arch his back and push the bag of waters further out of him.
It's during one attempt to move that something changes once again.
Jacob has taken to sitting cross-legged outside the nest, just watching Thiago do his thing, when suddenly he all but spins around, crawling forward on all fours before flopping down roughly with his back to Jacob.
He draws his leg up again as hed done before, and Jacob watches with rapt attention as he begins to push. This time, the contraction seems to pull tighter, the muscles in his glute and back pulling tight as Thiago suddenly lets out a guttural moan and pushes desperately.
He lows desperately as his cunt stretched into a perfect O around the bulge that's now pushed out into the world. Thiago yowls as his waters spread him wide, his legs kicking and straightening as he bears down instinctively to get the baby out.
And then suddenly he manages to toss his hand behind him, slipping down between his legs and cupping his own waters. Thiago lets out a hiccupy groan as he wriggles his hips just slightly, then begins to push again.
He's only just beginning to bear down, his sides drawing in, when suddenly his bags burst in his hands, shooting out of him and spraying against his palm in an arch.
"Oh fuck, Jacob, the water broke! I'm about to-" He gasps and grunts, sides heaving as his cunt begins to bulge outward again- this time with the head of their baby, "I'm about to... oohhhhh!"
He flops back against the nest, still on his side as his legs go straight out when the head slots into place and begins to part his cunt.
Jacob sits up further, watching over Thiago's side as he shakes and cries out, the head rapidly slipping forward and then sinking back in when the man pauses to pant harshly.
Theres no time between contractions now; his mate sucks in a few rapid breaths then gives a few rapid pushes as the head continues to slide forward.
Its not until its well and truly splitting his cunt apart that Thiago begins to get a bit more desperate, twisting and kicking out his legs as it comes closer to crowning.
Jacob manages to scoot himself down to the side of the nest, settled between his mates' legs. He brings a hand up to push at the inside of Thiago's left leg, holding it and back.
He has another perfect view of his pussy like this, flushed and leaking as it spreads wide around the top of their baby's head.
It's incredible, Jacob thinks. Even after doing this so many times, it's amazing to see his mate birth their litters.
"Oh, love, you look so beautiful like this." Jacob whispers in revelry, his thumb stroking over the soft skin of his thigh, "Come on, push that baby out."
Thiago lets out a half sob, half moan as he grabs hold of the side of the nest, his fingers clawing at the fabric as he tucks his chin to his chest and bears down. The baby’s head pushes forward again, centimeter by centimeter slipping out until finally - finally - the head comes to its widest part.
"Ohhhmmmygodddd!" Thiago shrieks, throwing both hands down between his spread legs to cup the head, "It's crowning!"
His cunt is stretched so tight around the head that for a split second Jacob worries that he'll tear.
He never had before, and this baby wasn't any larger than they usually were, but there was just something about his lips clung to the curve, a perfect moon of dark hair keeping his mate wrenched open around it, that made a spark of worry in him.
"Easy, easy baby -" He hummed, pressing his hands overtop of Thiago's to cup the head, "Let it come."
"It's already coming!" Thiago cried balefuly, his hips pushing down into their entwined hands as his belly tightened again, "Oh god, l have to birth it!"
"Slow down, love, slow down." He crooned, pressing gently against Thiago's hands to keep the head from coming too quickly, "You don't want to tear."
Thiago sobs and nods shakily, his hands letting go of the head and going instead to his thighs. He grits his teeth and groans, feeling his body pushing despite his best efforts to stop it.
The head bulges even further against Jacob's hands, slipping out until the brow is exposed, and Thiago is writhing and groaning under him.
"Oh fuck, the baby is coming out -" Thiago groans as he bends his knee and draws his leg up again, "It's coming out! It's coming out of me!"
And indeed, it is coming out of him.
Stretching him open obscenely as more and more of the brow slips out, almost to the eyebrow. Thiago whimpers and pushes his hips forward, his breath rapid pants that make his whole belly heave.
It takes incredible focus not to press to harshly on the head, to keep the counterpressure light. It's even more difficult that Thiago's body isn't getting the no pushing message, powerful contractions all but shoving the head out of his cunt.
The eyes are out, Thiago's hips bucking against the pressure as he pants and sits up on his elbows to look at Jacob.
"I'm about to- fuck, I'm gonna birth the head!"
And then he's really pushing.
His thighs shake, hips jerking and tail rigid as he pushes again with a cry, and the head pops free from the catboy.
"Heads out -" Jacob tells him quickly, even though he knew that Thiago was already aware of that fact.
He doesn't answer anyway, too busy scrambling out of Jacob's hold again.
At some point, he decided that birthing this kit laying down was no longer an option because suddenly, he was up on all fours.
His back arches, shoving his pussy back into Jacob's hands so that he's holding the head in place, and then he bears down with a watery moan.
"Stretching- fuck, it's stretching my pussy!"
The head rotates so that its facing his thigh, and then Thiago dips his hips low as the shoulders bulge between his legs.
He shoves down hard once, twice, and then in the third wild, desperate push, one shoulder slips free.
Thiago falls forward onto his elbows, the second shoulder shoving its way out of him.
"Guhhhhhh! Here it comes!"
And suddenly, with a burst of fluid and the most ancient, gutteral sound that Jacob has ever heard, the baby is laying in the nest underneath Thiago.
"Oh! I pushed it out!" He gasped, scrambling to roll over onto his back, "Oh god, the baby is out of me, babe!"
Jacob scoops it up, finally slipping into the nest with his mate. The baby wails as soon as it's on its parent's chest, indignant and happy to let the world know.
"Good job, love," Jacob pressed a kiss to Thiago's sweaty forehead, "Catch your breath before the rest come."
They don't have to wait very long for the next kit to start working its way into the world. Thiago has just barely finished feeding the first baby when the contractions take hold again, the familiar thrum between his thighs smarting.
"Mhh, Jacob" He groaned, his voice husky and rough, "Next one's coming."
Jacob looks up from where he's cooing over their newborn, his soft tawny hair drying to a color that looked much lighter. His ears were the same color as Thiago's, a sandy tabby print.
"Now?" He asks, watching Thiago for any signs of impeding birth.
Instead of answering Thiago just let out a low groan of urgency, lying back and spreading his legs wide. His tail rucked up under him, puffed out and slightly damp with birthing fluids.
His belly heaved and shook, the remaining three kits inside shifting into position now that there was more space.
"Pretty... ohhhhh-" Thiago moaned, his chin dipping to press against his chest as his belly tightened and his hips drew off the ground, "Pretty sure I'm going to start pushing in the next few pains-"
His sounds grow in volume, turning desperate and gutteral as his hole begins to flutter. There's a heavy weight slipping down, bulging his skin outward in a familiar way.
Jacob doesn't have to be told any more, immediately setting the first kit off to the side of the nest so that it's out of the way while Thiago works to bring his sibling into the world.
He settles between his partner's knees, surprised that Thiago has chosen this position to birth in. He rarely birthed on his back, and every time he had it had been after a fairly audacious labour and birth.
But Jacob wasn't going to question it when Thiago lets out a low sound and pushes up onto his elbows, his huge belly drawing up and back as he began to lose himself into his primal urges.
He watches with rapt attention as a heavy looking bulge begins to appear at the apex of his mate's thighs, steadily rounding out the space there as it drops lower and lower. Thiago huffs and pants above him, his hands pawing at his sides as they shake and heave.
"Ooh-" He groans out, letting his head tip backward against the edge of the nest, his ears pinned back in discomfort, "Fuck, it's so low."
"Mhm." Jacob agreed softly, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to Thiago's bent knee, giving his thighs a soft stroke as he looked up at his mate, "You're doing so good love."
Thiago doesn't even bother opening his eyes, instead letting out a shaky exhale that's meant to be a laugh as the corners of his mouth quip up.
"Doesn't feel very good."
And now it's Jacob's turn to laugh, a soft chuckle to offer Thiago just the slightest bit of comfort right now.
"I bet not."
He looks uncomfortable.
His huge pregnant belly heaving as he cups the sides of it.
His ears flat back against his hair and his nose scrunched up as he tries to keep his breathing even.
The bulge that had started between his hips was now so low it was rounding out his lips and perineum slightly, a steady trickle of fluid streaming from his swollen folds.
Thiago groaned lowly, his hips shifting suddenly like they just had to move. His breath became vocal, a long exhale that reverberated through his whole body as that sudden shift within him began.
This kit was about to come out.
Jacob watches from between his legs as Thiago's shaky hands leave his stomach and move to the undersides of his thighs, holding them gently apart as his low groan slowly turned into something more gutteral, a long, hard sound that came along with the sensation of their baby dropping down low enough to press against his hole from the inside.
He started to curl forward over his belly, his body seemingly acting of its own accord as his mate let out a choked sound and began to scramble for something to cling to.
Oh yeah. This kit is coming out - right now.
"OH!" Thiago cried out, all but throwing his legs open wider and gripping onto the nest on either side of him, "Oh gods, Jacob, it's... it's right there..."
And indeed, it was right there.
As Thiago paused to pant his way through the small break between contractions, there was just the slightest parting of his lips to reveal the bag of waters surrounding their kit.
Jacob knew that it would start to stretch him open on the next push, parting him more and more as the kit eased it's way out of him.
It was an incredible sight to behold - one that Jacob didn't think he'd ever forget.
The bag bobbed in and out gently with each heaving pant that left Thiago's body, just barely revealed to the outside world and yet already so heavy looking between his lips.
"Oh oh oh oh-" He gasped out, his legs shaking and his hips rocking as he adjusted to the first sharp sparks of stretch, "Fuck, oh, I've got to push-"
He doesn't get anything else out before bringing his chin to his chest again and curling over his belly, his toes clenching as his stomach draws tight. His hole stretches further and further, the slight parting steadily opening into a full teardrop shape.
Jacob sits up a little straighter, bringing his hands up to press onto either side of the bulge that's pressing against his partner's cunt, bowing the skin out to an obscene degree. He applies gentle counter pressure as Thiago sucks in a deep breath and pushes again, his waters spreading him ruthlessly wide.
Thiago nods and spreads his legs a little further apart, pressing his feet down into the bottom of his nest as he sucks down a few lungfuls of air and bears down.
"There you go, good job baby," Jacob hums, keeping steady pressure to ease the stretch as Thiago's hole pushes into a wide, perfect circle, "Just like that. Keep pushing, love."
There's barely any time between contractions now, each one bleeding into the other until finally his partner let's go of the push with a ragged sound, glancing up at Jacob with half lidded eyes as he tries to catch his breath.
"You okay?" Jacob asks softly, his fingers gliding over the stretched skin beneath them to help ease the pressure.
"Yeah - yeah, I'm okay." Thiago nods in response, slowly sliding a little lower in the nest to cradle his heaving belly, "It's just big. Going to take its time."
The next contraction comes all too soon, a visible tightening of Thiago's body as he drapes an arm over the nest and brings the other hand down to cradle the bag of waters that's bulging from him.
Jacob moves his hands to let Thiago have control, moving his grip to his partner's knees and pressing them up and back to widen his pelvis. This kit was indeed big, so big that the skin of his perineum and bottom were rounded out and stretched tight over the head that was waiting to emerge.
Thiago grunts suddenly, a wounded sound down deep in his throat as his hips start bucking into his hand that's cupping the bulge. His face turns a ruddy color as he pushes hard, teeth gritted and eyes squeezed shut.
For a few seconds there's no movement between his legs, the bag of waters stuck fast in its spot stretching him so wide. Jacob watches with rapt attention, mentally calculating how long this should go on for before he intervenes.
The next round of pushing brings similar results, with little progress for how hard won it is. Thiago grunts and groans, his legs kicking and shaking and his hips rocking and bucking as he tries to birth the kit that's sitting so heavily inside of him.
Jacob is just about to ask him if he wants him to break his waters when suddenly Thiago cries out and all but melts down into the nest. He lays flat on his back, both hands cupping the bag of waters and his legs spread as wide as they go.
"Oh gods, it's coming! The head is coming!" He cries, throwing his head back and pushing again, "Fuck, it's right there babe!"
Jacob watches in awe as something dark and heavy pushes into the undisturbed bag of waters. It stretches Thiago even further, his cunt stretched to an obscene degree as it spreads wider and wider around the head of their kit.
"I see it!" He gasps, his eyes never leaving his partner's bulging hole as the outline of the ears and the top of the head become visible beneath the opaque sac.
Thiago doesn't respond, instead just pushing wildly to get the kit out of him. There's no rest for him now, not when he's so deep inside his instincts he'll do anything to give birth.
Jacob wonders if a change in position would help aide in the delivery, but doesn't get much of a chance to ask because his partner is too preoccupied giving birth to answer any questions he has.
His fingers press hard against the film of his waters, clawing sharply at the surface in an attempt to break them and get the kit out faster. Jacob brings his hands up to help him, but before he can do anything else Thiago curls up over his bump again and is pushing the kit out further.
Thiago switches between long, hard pushes that cause his belly to draw up tight and taunt against his frame and wild, desperate pushes that bring more and more of the head forward until there's no possible way he can spread any further than he is.
"Guhhhhhh-" He groaned out, "I'm so full, I need my water to break!"
"Just pant, just pant," Jacob hummed, his careful prodding at the sac taking all his concentration, "Let it come."
The widest part of the head has slipped through now, the curve of the brow wrenching him apart as Thiago pushes himself up onto his elbows and bore down hard.
"Crowning!" He manages out between efforts, his hands pressing into either side of the bag, "I'm crowning, oh gods it's stretching me so much!"
"I can't!" Thiago cries out, his head falling back to hang between his shoulders as his belly is pulled tight and taunt against his frame, "I can't, I have to pushhhhh!"
His whole body tightens fiercely with his effort, legs shaking and back arched as Thiago pressed his elbows down hard into the nest beneath him. More of the head appeared in the sac, the bridge of the kit's nose sliding out. Jacob pressed harder against the slick sac, trying to dig his fingers in and pop it to offer his mate some relief.
There's none to be found, it seems, because Jacob can't get the waters to break before Thiago sits up even further, his eyes wide and wild as he manages to get himself upright and clutches onto Jacob's shoulders.
He pulls himself up onto his knees, and then into a deep squat. His tail curled up his back, his sides heaving as he fought to breathe in the brief break he was currently receiving.
"Fuck-" Thiago hissed, his forehead dropping to rest on Jacobs shoulder as he struggled to catch his breath. His hips rocked, knees spread wide and pussy full of kit. "Fuck, oh my gods it's so big-"
Jacob leans back a little bit, looking down between Thiago's thighs to see his progress. His count is stretched into a perfect circle, the yellow, opaque bag of waters bulging so heavily from his hole that Jacob shudders in empathy. Inside the bag in the rather large head of their second kit, out all the way to the nose now. Above that was Thiago's heaving belly, still heavy with kit despite having already pushed out one kit and currently birthing a second.
It heaved up with another contraction as Jacob watched, Thiago's grip on his shoulders tightening as he let out a low, gutteral sound and began to bear down with it.
Jacob wasn't going to be able to break Thiago's waters from this position, but he was able to gently cup the coming head and support it as more and more of it slipped out into the sac.
"Hnngghhhh-" Thiago dipped even lower in his squat, throwing his head back and pushing desperately on the kit that he was birthing, "Gahhh fuckkkkk I'm birthing it!"
Suddenly Thiago is rising up to stand, hunched over his huge belly and still clinging to Jacob's shoulders as he bends his knees outward and pushes. Jacob has a front row seat to watch the rest of the head slide free into the bag of waters, which is now bulging heavily in front of the head.
"It's almost out, love, you're doing so well." Jacob says softly, pressing a kiss to Thiago's thigh.
Thiago nods and takes a shaky breath, his eyes glazed and heavily lidded as his ears flick and his tail lashes. He sucks in a few deep breaths, waiting for the tell tale tightening in his stomach to signal him to start pushing again.
It's only a few seconds before he starts puffing air in, his lips pursed and his cheeks puffed out as his belly began to tighten. Thiago curls forward with a choked grunt, his legs spread wide as the bag is pressed further and further out of his pussy. The head inside is turning; rotating to get into a better position for the shoulders to pass through.
This may be Thiago's last push for this rather audacious birth, and it's looking more and more likely that the kit is going to be born en caul. Thiago's nails break the skin on his shoulders as the head stops moving horizontally and starts dropping vertically. The angle and the unbroken waters obscure Jacob's view, but he's about 99% certain the shoulder is coming out.
"Oh fuck- baby's coming!" Thiago cries out, pushing his hips forward and canting his cunt down.
All at once Thiago heaves down, his head thrown back as he squares his stance and finally, finally, his waters break in a splash of fluid and then the kit drops into Jacob's waiting hands.
you wake up to the feeling of something slick sliding up your leg. before you can even fully process the feeling, it’s pushing past your boxers and into your tight hole. you try to struggle, but whatever substance this tentacle-like appendage is covered in is making you woozy, not to mention all sorts of needy down there. you lay back and lose your grip on the situation as it begins to slowly thrust in and out, in and out of you, slamming against your cervix every time. pathetic moans and whines escape your lips as the aphrodisiac erases any hesitation you had about being violated by this thing.
it’s only when you feel something big, like, really big, pressing up against your hole, that you snap back to reality. “wait, wait—“ you plead, but the round object makes its way up the tentacle and into your body, stretching you obscenely. it presses against your cervix until it finally breaches the tight seal, and you yelp as you feel a weight settle into your womb. you try to fight it, but you’re too weak from whatever substance is intoxicating you. egg after egg presses into your womb as you feel your insides get stretched. you put a hand on your belly and feel it slowly expand, fearing you might pop. but, when you look just a few months pregnant, it stops. you feel a hot, thick liquid be pumped out of the tentacle, before it withdraws, and leaves you alone.
you try to forget about it in the coming months, but the seed is planted. there’s no removing the life that’s inside of you. sometimes you sit there, hand on your swollen stomach, wishing you could get these little burdens out of you. but you know they’re stuck there, until they’re ready to come out on their own.
the day it finally happens, you look more than full term. you look pregnant with triplets, and with every step you take you can feel the eggs bumping against each other and rolling around inside of you. you hate the incubator you’ve been made into, carrying a life you had no part in creating. but then, finally, you feel a weight drop into your pelvis while you’re in bed one day. you rush into the bathroom as the contractions start.
it’s a bit fascinating how your body treats this just like a human pregnancy. the cramps, the back pains, it’s as if you were laboring out your own baby. but you aren’t, of course not. you feel a rush of fluid come out between your legs, and are struck with the unbearable urge to push as you squat down. you feel something huge positioned between your legs, slowly descending down your tight birth canal as you push and push. the process is slow and arduous, you can feel every inch of progress it makes in your body as it moves down toward your hole.
you wonder absently what kind of creatures you’ve been growing inside of you for the past several months, as the first egg begins to crown. you push, and push, and push as hard as you can. the circumference is slightly smaller than a newborn’s head, absolutely enough to make you cry out in agony as it reaches a full, perfectly circular crown between your legs. but, as the contraction ends and you relax, it sinks back inside of you, fully hidden within your body once again.
this process repeats a few more times, as you push and push and push with everything you have, only for all your progress to be erased as the slick egg slips back inside of you. but finally, after what feels like an eternity, the egg bursts from inside you and falls onto your bathroom floor.
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Selkie delivering a huge, fat seal pup right on the beach though.
Anon, your brain is HUGE
Absolutely fucking MASSIVE
You didn't mean to stare.
You really didn't.
But the scene playing out to your left was really hard to ignore.
Really, really hard.
Just like your cock, straining against the front of your swimtrunks.
At first, the crashing of the waves had covered her noises - something she'd no doubt been hoping for - but eventually, her straining groans and yelps of pain were too loud to be ignored.
She was on her front, arms propping her torso upright as she gave short, grunting pushes.
Just visible under her tail from this position was... a bubble - the amniotic sac, your mind supplied. She's giving birth.
You couldn't pull your eyes away.
She was too preoccupied to notice - or care - that you were watching as she bore down again, the sac protruding more from her, the dark shadow of the pup's nose just barely visible.
A long, grunting cry as the snout of the pup continued to stretch her, wider and wider and wider.
Words 1478 | mpreg, birth, elven customs, public masturbation, giving birth in public, giving birth in clothes
He had done as the healer had instructed, turning the screw in the machination every hour. His passage was screaming for something to fill it. The emptiness of the open ring was horrid.
It was late morning already when Aldoran forced his tired and pained body out of the bed. His belly hung so low, but it was rigid with a contraction, and Aldoran fought against pushing. He rubbed his belly and dressed into a simple robe. He had to eat.
Walking was a shameful thing in his condition. His belly was so heavy that the king had to carry it with his hands, and now the metal ring spreading his anus open, forcing him to waddle even wider than before. He could feel fluid dripping from his gaping hole with every contraction. He couldn’t keep from pushing as he walked, but he kept them short and gentle.
Breakfast was served for him as he arrived in the dining hall. He looked at the food, leaning on the table for support while approaching his seat.
”Ouhh!” Aldoran moaned as he sat down heavily, the contraption in his ass feeling unnatural in every possible way. ”Ahhh…” his hips bucked, hard cock searching for some friction. Oh, what he wouldn’t have done to have something fill his opening. Preferably his baby.
Breakfast was slow to progress. He was struggling to eat as his belly contracted. He had to hurry, as he was to meet a lord soon after, and he still had to change his clothes.
His servant had picked out a robe for him. It was a glorious golden shade with metal ornaments along the whole front. Lacing in the back made it all the more beautiful. Struggling to fit into his robe while his anus was constantly stretched open was torturous. Once the robe was on him, a servant took up the task of lacing the back tightly. Aldoran moaned as pressure increased in his belly each time the servant tightened the laces. The metal detailing in the front of the robe didn’t allow room for any expansion.
He had asked the servant not to tie it up so tight, and still, once the robe was on him, his belly was tighter than a drum against the fabric and its detailing.
The elegantly dressed lord of his kingdom was waiting for him at the meeting table when Aldoran finally made it to the chamber. He tried to stand with his head held high, but the compression of his clothes on his contracting belly made him want to curl forward.
”King Aldoran, thank you for meeting me”, the lord said as he stood up upon seeing his king. He bowed his head, but Aldoran saw the scrutinous look that he gave at his midsection.
”Please”, Aldoran said and motioned him to sit back down, ”how may I help you. Is everything alright?” He tried to hide how difficult walking was for him. One foot in front of the other, he made his way to the opposite side of the meeting table. His belly was so tight, his ass so stretched as he sighed and sat down. He wanted to moan, but did not.
As he sat, he could feel the pressure inside him growing as the fabric and metal detailing of his robe bunched up and pulled downwards.
”Yes, my king, everything is fine. I was sent here by the council of the lords and ladies to check on you. To our understanding, your labor so far has not progressed quite as expected.”
Aldoran’s eyebrows shot up. They’d noticed.
”No, no no, everything is perfectly fine and progressing as should. Maybe ever so slightly slow to our liking, but progressing nevertheless.” Aldoran responded, waiving his hand in dismissal. He steeled his face against the agony his tight robes caused him, paired with the contraction that now squeezed his womb as well. His anus twitched around the stretching mechanism, and the king’s hand went to hold his belly.
”Oh? Would you mind describing your progression, my king? The council will be happy to hear of it!”
Aldoran smiled even as his teeth were grinding against each other as his body forced him to push. He could feel the mass inside his passage move lower by the second. The pressure of his tight robe pressed down on the huge mound of flesh and kept moving it lower and lower.
”Of course!” The king chimed. He breathed deeply as he pushed again, gripping the table. ”Or even better, I can show you. Have the council fetched here and you just might see the birth tonight. The head is about to come out!”
The face of the council member lit up as he stood and bowed, scurrying towards the door.
”Oughhhhh…” Aldoran moaned now that he was alone, and immediately regretted inviting the council to watch. He would have to stay elegant, stay effortless. The king’s hands flew to palpate his belly. It was so tight against the embroidered tunic that he wasn’t able to make even the slightest dent in the dome. And it was so low. The huge mass inside his pelvis made it impossible to close his legs.
If he could just birth the child before the council arrived.
Aldoran moaned as he hurriedly stood up, the momentum causing an uncomfortable churn inside him. He heaved against the table, belly hanging heavy from his middle. Back arched, he pushed with the next contraction. A sharp grunt forced itself from the king’s throat as the stretching device clattered to the floor.
He didn’t bother to quiet down his moans as he felt the head of the baby closing in on his entrance. He brought his hand underneath the hem of the tunic and found his leaking anus. Oh gods, how his flesh was swollen and bulged out. The head felt huge, almost impossibly so. But he could feel the hot skin of his child inside, and as he pushed, it came closer.
”Hoooo!” He heaved, grasping the table white-knuckled, knees bending to make more space in his hips. He was practically squatting in the meeting hall, hand feeling his anus, cock hard and dripping against his belly, as his asshole slowly but surely opened up to accommodate the emerging child.
”Oh I can feel it!” King Aldoran moaned at the feeling, ass twitching and trembling.
”It’s coming outtttt!” He groaned low in his throat as the burning stretch assaulted his senses. ”Ooooh…. Ah…” moaning openly, lewd and wanton as his hips bucked to rub his cock against the hot skin of his belly, Aldoran pushed to birth his baby. The stretching was horrible, his rim burning. His lips were drawn into a grimace as he hissed through the pain.
The door to the hall opened and the council, consisting of highly esteemed lords and ladies of the kingdom, as well as some friends and advisors, pooled in. Aldoran bit his lip as he stifled a scream from tearing from his throat as his anus opened around the babe’s head. The council watched in silence as the backside of the king's tight tunic began to bulge. It was slight at first, but as the king pushed, more and more started to show.
It was clear there was progress now.
The council was suddenly surrounding the king, watching without blinking as his hands gripped the edge of the table and he squatted low. His large belly was protruding like a torpedo between his bent knees. It was mesmerizing. They had never witnessed a birth so difficult. The babe had to be large and strong to make their king struggle so.
The king pushed, face reddening with effort.
Then suddenly he screamed, his hips bucking one final time, and he collapsed to the ground, on his hands and knees. The backside of his tunic was straining with a bulge so big that it was obvious to everyone what had happened. The front of the fabric was stained with a wet splotch where the king had ejaculated while birthing the head.
“It’s out… it’s out”, the king panted, exhausted. He reached for the tunic’s hem and struggled to pull it over his arse.
Everyone in the room gasped as the babe’s head was revealed, for it was not a head.
From inside the king’s obscenely stretched anus, parting his smooth ass cheeks, was a pair of legs and the bottom half of a torso.
“It’s the wrong way!” Someone yelled in horror. One of the ladies was already halfway to the door, her mission to tell the entire kingdom what was going on inside the castle.
“What?” Aldoran moaned as his belly tightened again in a contraction. His hand flew to touch between his legs and indeed found… legs.
He collapsed onto the floor on top of his contracting belly as his world went dark.
birthing parent lying on their side with their knee pulled up towards their chest, holding themselves open as they push, straining desperately against a giant set of stuck shoulders while the baby's head dangles between their thighs >>>>>>>>>
You could see the head - rather, the bulge of it, as you still hadn't pulled her dress up - as she pushed and it stretched the skirt of her dress.
How much more her dress could take, you weren't sure.
It was already digging into her thighs, riding up before your eyes just a little.
With a shaky hand, you curl your fingers into the amniotic-soaked fabric, easing it up over the bulge in her cunt.
What you saw took your breath away, heat rushing south as you squeezed your thighs together.
Her pussy, reddened and bulging, full of the head as she bore down with a shriek, her clit hidden behind a black lace thong, but standing at attention just enough for you to see through the strained fabric. Your hand - still just as shaky as before - cups over the thin lace as it stretched over the head, your two middle fingers pressing against her prominent clit.
The noise she made went right to your sex, dripping into your underwear. It was somewhere between a moan and a scream as she bore down involuntarily as you touched her, the head stretching her further.
You didn't think a pussy could stretch that much.
"Mmmhhhnnnnn-nnnnggggh!!!" She panted, head hanging between her shoulders. "I can feel the head, oooo-ooouuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnnn!!!!" Her panties were starting to restrict progress, and your fingers gently move the seat of her panties to the side, watching the head pop free.
She shook, panting heavily as she rested, the head hanging from her pussy and you cup it, feeling how heavy it was.
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What’s your favorite fantasy species to imagine birth scenarios for? Happy birthday :)
oooh okay, SO
ive got two answers for that, and a little ✨ propaganda ✨ to add in
My favorite fantasy setting birth scenarios involve elves! they always seem so graceful and poised in all aspects of their lives, I imagine they'd be very calm and vocal during labor, maybe even experiencing a more erotic side of birth because they don't feel so stressed out. I also like to picture that Elven births are a very public event and it's not highly unusual to see someone spontaneously going into labour and giving birth pretty much anywhere. It's fairly common to see someone giving birth at the local hot springs or delivering their baby at the Saturday morning market. No one really bats an eye and the village often gather in a large crowd to watch the event.
I also love a good centaur birth! I think the idea of being spread open around not only the human half of the baby, but also the much bigger, much less flexible horse half of the foal would be incredible. I recently saw a head cannon about centaurs having two different labours and births, one where the foal is birthed from the human half to the horse half, and then the much more difficult foaling from the horse half, and that's definitely given me some things to think about before I go to bed 🙃🙃
this is because they write with their mind penis and have terrible childhoods and horrible luck, which seems to be the key factor in writing shakespeare level smut
