Crook

(Birth Denial Ask Game)

A horse boy working on a huge ranch gets called into the boss’s office one day. He already knows what it’s going to be about; he’s been falling behind on his duties. A head shorter and probably a hundred pounds lighter than the stallion guys who work the ranch, he can’t hope to keep up with the workload. Where they’re all glistening muscles and endless stamina, he’s twiggy and tires easily, still as ungainly as a foal.

So, he enters the boss’s office with his ears back and his tail twitching in anxiety, expecting to be fired. What he doesn’t expect is for her to have his employee file open and start asking questions about his pedigree papers. His face warms as he confirms that, yes, he comes from a breeding family. He tries to tactfully cut off any ideas she has about him having some massive stud cock, but she waves him off, saying that yes, yes, she knows about his “situation.” He doesn’t know if he’s ever heard his pussy called a “situation” before, and he doesn’t know why it makes him squirm in his seat.

Finally, she offers him a transfer to working in husbandry. Grateful to still have a job, he signs the new contract without asking questions—a choice he regrets when he reports for his first shift in husbandry and the boss tells him to pull his pants down. He’s thankful that the breeding bench she straps him into faces away from her, keeping her from seeing his welling tears. He has to bite his lips to keep from sobbing in humiliation when she presses a high-powered vibe to his pussy.

She wrings four orgasms out of him in minutes, leaving him trembling and overstimulated by the time she forces the tip of the insemination gun into his cervix. He screams and jerks, the velcro restraints creaking as he instinctively tries to escape his fate. But he’s already signed his womb away, and he must endure the discomfort and nausea as it fills with so much semen that his slim belly bloats a little. With a jovial pat on the ass, the boss unstraps him and tells him to “keep his rump up” for ten minutes, then clean up and meet her in the stables.

As he lies there, catching his breath through his sniffles and waiting for some stranger’s cum to impregnate him, he has to reflect on how much sense it all makes. After all, if he can’t be a useful workhorse, he might as well make one, right? He wonders if the sample might have come from one of his coworkers, and his tender pussy clenches. Trying to forget the violation of the insemination gun, he imagines what it would have been like to be bred by the handsome Percheron who used to help him when he’d fall behind, whose jeans always strained so tantalizingly over what must be a gorgeous stallion cock.

But a cramp flaring in his cervix brings him back to reality. This isn’t some paperback breeding fantasy. This is his job. It’s not going to be sexy. In fact, it’s probably going to suck.

The morning sickness proves him right by hitting hard and fast, leaving him feeble and gray-faced for the first few weeks of his new position. Because he’s not just a breeder, no—he also actually has to work husbandry with the animal horses. Luckily the husbandry supervisor takes one look at him and relegates him to foal watch, which consists entirely of sitting with full-term mares and radioing someone more qualified when they’re ready to foal. It’s excruciatingly boring, but considering that he’s exhausted just sitting there, he’s grateful that he doesn’t have to do any real work while this pregnancy takes so much out of him.

In no time at all, his clothes grow tight against the swelling curve of his belly. He spends most of his days shyly tugging down his shirt when it rides up, but soon everyone expects to see a strip of stretch-marked tummy peeking over his jeans. The ranch provides big, branded sweat sets with nice, roomy elastic, but even those end up riding apart within a few more weeks. Despite keeping his head down when he walks around the ranch, he can feel everyone’s eyes on his exposed tummy.

At only 6 months, he looks ready to pop, having to walk with his hips swayed forward and his shoulders thrown back to account for the massive bump hanging off his slim frame. The child is heavy—and strong, too. It kicks so hard that people can see from across the room as the whole shape of his belly distorts around its powerful limbs. He can often be seen groaning and rubbing at the mottled flesh, wincing as his hands pass over the purple patches where his unsightly varicose veins have broken from the commotion inside.

In the coming weeks, he wakes up bigger every morning. He’s sure he can’t possibly be growing as fast as it seems, but the increasing pressure in his pelvis and the strain on his joints confirm it. His legs shake under him when he walks, hips forced so wide that he constantly fears they’ll pop from their sockets. His ankles are so swollen that it looks like he’s wearing leg warmers beneath his sweatpants. He doesn’t waddle so much as shuffle, unable to decide if he needs a hand to support his back, or if both of them need to be under his belly. His silhouette reminds him of a photo he once saw of a woman carrying triplets, bump jutting like an oblong watermelon out from under her shirt. He might be even bigger than that.

His boss doesn’t tell him much about his own pregnancy, and by his 30-week checkup, he’s started to worry that she didn’t bother to inform him that he’s having high-order multiples. Nervously, he asks how many foals he’s carrying. She happily confirms it’s only one, and his stomach drops, such as it can, realizing only now that multiples would be preferable with a belly like this. He asks how that can be possible when he’s so big, and she tells him that’s what a belly looks like when it’s got a 25lb foal in it!

(A request for anon that donated to my short-lived ko-fi. Thank you king 🙏)

This got me thinking of a classic medieval knight… When he’s inducted into the royal guard, his agreeable personality and keen sparring instinct make him an instant favorite among the other knights. So, it’s no surprise when one of them invites him to his bunk to blow off some steam after a long day patrolling; without much time for romancing maidens, it’s not unusual for the knights to find release with their fellows.

What is unusual is the tight, wet pussy between the new knight’s legs, and the perky little tits that bounce so cutely on his chest when he arches his back and groans to be fucked harder. Word spreads quickly through the barracks, and soon all of the guardsmen are flocking to him, aching to try him.

Our knight ends up heavy-eyed and sleepy during his long patrols, but the others cover for him—after all, they know it’s their fault he’s so poorly rested, since he spends most of his off-duty time pressed between the firm, sweaty bodies of multiple men. Especially after a battle, they often spear him open on two cocks at once, his head bouncing limply on one of their strong shoulders while he whimpers and jerks with the latest in a countless number of orgasms.

His fellow knights are gentlemen, of course, and always pull out, even washing him clean after they stripe his belly and thighs with their seed. But with so many needy, dripping cocks fucking so deep into him, it’s only a matter of time before a slight swell appears just above his hipbones, and he shyly confirms to his questioning lovers that his blood has ceased coming.

The barracks buzz with excitement, musings about who sired the child going quickly by the wayside as each one finds himself caring for the pregnant knight as if he were their husband, and his womb ripening with their own seed. Even those that are at first skeptical of a man bearing a child come around when they lay their hands on the tiny curve of his belly for themselves. As far as anyone is concerned, the child belongs to all of them.

At first, the evidence of the knight’s pregnancy is nothing but a palm-sized bump, detectable only by his most intimate partners. But soon, his growing womb fills out the tunic that was once loose on him, not yet eye-catching, but certainly visible to those who care to look. His chest, too, begins to prepare for the child, tiny tits rounding into tender breasts that must be squeezed into the confines of his chain mail. When his fellows help him out of his armor at the end of a watch, several helpers always stand by, ready to massage his aching breasts, or knead his burdened back, or press their face into his swollen pussy until his tense joints hang pleasure-limp.

His armor seems to grow heavier at the same rate as his womb, his joints straining beneath the combined weight. He struggles, too, to fulfill his duties while so much of his vigor goes straight to forming the babe in his belly. When one day he finally succumbs to his delicate condition and collapses near the end of his watch, the captain of the guard—who has gone to bed with him as often if not more than most of the other guardsman—has him moved to guard the throne room.

Standing on his swollen feet all day still exhausts him, but outside of the occasional uncomfortable shifting as his body aches and his child moves, he draws no attention to himself there. His armor manages to conceal his pregnancy even as his time grows closer—though he imagines the blacksmith who fashioned his cuirass chose its barrel shape to provide empty space for absorbing the impact of enemy swords, not as a vessel to be packed tight with a pregnant belly and milk-swollen breasts. It’s a tight fit, forcing his gut high enough that the child shifts backwards, a strain on his lower spine. They don’t take well to the limited space, protesting with sharp kicks that pinch the wall of his belly against the armor. He longs to rub soothing hands over his bump, but he wouldn’t dare do such a thing while on watch, even if he could reach his belly through the metal.

As the weeks pass, he keeps distending, his child a foreboding point of pressure deep in his pelvis. His belly begins to droop low, and he can’t keep his hands off the raw, stretched skin, scratching at fresh stretch marks and wincing at the growing web of tender veins. The other knights handle him lovingly, often appearing behind him to hold up his belly for a few minutes. In bed, their affections grow gentle, and the pregnant knight becomes accustomed to strong hands caressing his aching breasts while someone’s hard cock grinds ever so gently between his legs, not quite inside him, but giving his clit more than enough friction to have him cumming with a mewling cry.

Finally, he wakes one morning to a great pain in his gut. He screws his eyes shut and clutches the tense surface of his belly, trying to breathe through it without waking his bedmate. When it passes, he rouses the other knight, who helps dress him for his watch. When it comes time to lift his belly as high as he can and compress it against his body so that he can get his armor on, he clenches his jaw and pants through his teeth. His lover, waiting with the cuirass at the ready, asks if he’s okay. He says he will be once he’s dressed.

But that isn’t the case at all. His belly barely fits in the armor anymore, forcing the baby in and down until a terrible pain envelops his pelvic cradle, far worse than his daily aches in these last months. The head of his child feels so, so low.

He prays that the babe will wait to come until his watch ends. In response, another contraction lances through his belly and into his lower back. He barely swallows back his whimper.

But he must fulfill his duty.

You're the best of the best when it comes to getting something illegal across lines, your record is fantastic, youre making a ton of money off of every drop, and you're on the top of your game. Unfortunately though, you're also a massive fugitive almost anywhere you go. This is the toughest job youve ever had to do, and you're anxious. Your partners come up to you with a job proposal; you're going to be smuggling some sort of illegal monster eggs across the country. It sounds easy enough, but no dice. The eggs are temperamental, they're easily cracked, need to be somewhere damn, and at almost EXACTLY human body temperature, so yeah. At first its a giant fuck no to the job, but then one of your partners flashes you the amount you'll be making off of it, and lets just say- you'll never have to work again if you do this.

It was certainly not going to be an easy job, from start to finish. They were small, and blue almost like egg shaped marbles. Your partners took turns filling you up, you on your hands and knees on a hotel bed, huffing as they continued to shove at least sixty tiny eggs into your body. They didnt feel like much at first, but whenever you shifted, you could feel the whole lot clacking around inside of you, which led to a bit of unspoken horny embarrassment.

After what seemed like forever, you were the fullest youve ever been, and to top it all off by plugging you up so none of them would spill out on the drive there. You stood up, stifling a soft moan as you insisted on making your way to the car. It was barely noticable through your thick, roomy flannel shirt but you could certainly tell what was in you. Due to the plug and dedicated carefulness, you developed a slight waddle which your parents teased you about before you told them to shut up. Carefully, you lowered yourself into the back seat of the truck, holding your belly to make sure nothing got damaged.

The ride was fine at first, as you were used to traversing long distances with your line of work, but after the first hour or so, things began to feel... different. You could've sworn you felt more full than you did as you were leaving. You softly groaned, the discomfort growing as did your abdomen over the course of the ride, you could easily pass for someone nearing the middle of their second trimester. Worried, you brought it up to your partners, and they explained how the eggs had been preserved, and that the human body was the perfect environment for the eggs to rehydrate. After threatening a bit of violence, an apology from them and a stifled moan, you were reminded of the money, which calmed things down.

It had been hours now, at least three, and the growth wasn't stopping yet. Every ten minutes, or bump hit on the road illicited another groan or rub of your belly. At this point you looked almost full term with a single human child, which was starting to concern you. Your shirt was pulled taught against your massive abdomen, straining the buttons to their limit, small diamonds of flesh in between each clasp. You, albeit worried, kept your calm, rubbing your massive middle as you shifted around your plug, the slight stimulation doing wonders for the discomfort. What your partner failed to mention was the compounds in the eggs that would produce a mild aphrodisiac, there to keep the pregnant person placated while they carried. Usually the species carried five or ten, so sixty was doing things to your mind.

Five hours in, you all reached your first checkpoint. Getting pulled over and checked was never fun, and being this huge would make an escape damn near impossible. Luckily for you, the feds took one look at your massive form and just wanted to chat about when you were due, how many you were having, names, blah blah blah. You answered their dumb questions, eager to get away, but you had to play it cool. You thought one of them noticed thar you were getting bigger by the minute, but they chose not to comment on it. You bit your lip, horny, anxious, and impatient as one of your partners reached back to rub your tight belly, giving you momentary relief. Luckily you were all let go. You bounced on your plug, trying to at least work out the frustration that had built while you were being watched, god knows you couldn't reach around to touch yourself now with how massive you were getting.

The ride continued, and so did your growth. By now you were stretched out across the back seat, grunting and moaning whenever a wave of growth hit you, you didn't care about your partners hearing you, or seeing what was becoming of you now, you had half a mind to beg one of them to come back there and fuck you until you popped. But, you settled for humping your plug and rubbing your thumb over your popped navel. Your flannel was long since ruined, only buttoned over your chest to give you more room to grow. At this point you looked like you could pop out triplets or quads if you gave a miniscule push, but the eggs weren't ready yet, and you weren't where you needed to be, and sure as hell you weren't risking losing all of that money. So you sat, huffing and straining and growing, looking at the gps time getting closer to your arrival.

Things were fine for a bit, sure you looked like you were due with quints, but you were so concerned with how horny you were, you barely noticed. After a few pitstops you were almost there, and you couldn't be more ready to pop these things out. They were easily each the size of tennis balls by now, and you could feel them individually move when you bucked your hips ever so slightly. You moaned out, rubbing your sides as the ride continued, cursing and grunting as your sheer mass and the old road moved you on your plug. You were so close now, just a few more thrusts and you'd at least be able to cum. With a few deep breaths and slow movements, you thought you were going blind, until a sudden gush interrupted your thoughts. Fuck, your water broke. You shouted out to your partners, warning them, to which they told you that they could hear it happen from there. You were done. You were pushing, NOW. Bearing down, you held the sides of your enormous middle, pushing the eggs down, down into your canal, only to remember the plug. Gasping and groaning, you alnost sobbed. You were stuck. And there was no way you were getting them out, there was no way you'd be able to reach down there with as big and heavy as you were. Your partner in the passenger seat reached back, rubbing your belly and shushing you, trying to keep you calm. You closed your eyes and bit your lip, horny and contracting as your rubbed your pregnant swell.

You sat in your dorm, half your project done, sat on your desk. A little nest where you were going to present the replica dinosaur eggs, without its crown jewel however the eggs.

You rubbed your humongous stomach self consciously which has stretched to an unimaginable size. You were naked but there was no way you could see further than your gargantuan bullet shaped stomach littered with red and purple stretch marks and veins. 'Gives a whole new meaning to "ready to pop"' you thought to yourself. You squirted more oil you purchased from a dubious store (along with the egg kit of course) on your puffy pussy that you could barely reach and rubbed it in. It made you feel hot all over but still you dutifully resumed your nightly ritual.

The rubbing felt incredible, before you knew it you barely had any oil left and you were writhing beneath your stomach. You probably would've arched your back off the bed too if you weren't pinned against it by the weight. Then suddenly something shifted within you, you could practically feel your pelvis creak as a torrent of fluid flooded your bed.

You tried to at least get yourself up on your elbows to see in the mirror facing your bed, what was going on.

The bed was soaked alright and between your legs was something slimey and brownish.

"What the fuck..." you muttered to yourself, trying to at least somehow maneuver your body on your hands and knees. Was this it? Upon examining it closer, you realised what it was and your heart dropped just as an extreme wave of pain washed over you. It was the fucking mucus plug. But why was it so huge. How much would your cervix have to dilate if this was keeping it sealed. 15 cm? 20 cm?

You started to feel sick. Just how many eggs were there?!

The sudden pressure increasing tenfold halted your train of thought.

At least you were already on your hands and knees right, besides you had the whole night to yourself. You bore down gingerly and hoped that your huge stomach pressing against the mattress would help too. Nothing but more liquid came out and the pain and pressure was only increasing.

After 3 hours of rocking back and forth with 0 results you decided it was time to get serious about this. You steadied yourself, gripped the sheets and gave a huge push.

Nothing.

1 hour into birthing with all your might you didn't even notice how far apart your legs were and how much your lower half felt like jelly when finally you felt something behind your entrance. Encouraged by the progress you began pressing on the top of your stomach with one hand while gritting your teeth and bearing down hard. Something began emerging. Covered in a slimey substance a jelly like egg started poking through your aching cunt. You moaned and pushed as hard as you could, waiting for the relief of it plopping out onto the blanket so you could birth the rest but it never came. With the next effort you buried your face into your pillow, hopefully muffling your desperate screams. Every time you let up the egg would slide back, nestled deep into the warm slick of your pussy.

This went on for another hour or so when you finally gave a push hard enough that got the egg to a point it wouldn't slip back from. You almost felt relieved. It will slide out any second, right?

Your pussy was stretched to its natural limit as you panted and pushed. But this birth was anything but natural...your only luck was that you kept up your oil regimen because soon you felt something slick and almost gelatinous touch your inner thighs, even with your legs spread.

"Wh-what?!" You whined into the pillow.

Fuck.

No no no no no.

This was supposed to be several small eggs not ONE. Cold sweat covered every inch of your body as the realisation hit. How would this ever come out?! There was no way you could call for help, what would you say, not to mention that you were fully immobilised by the gargantuan egg spreading you open way past what should be humanly possible.

Back when you realised what was happening to you, you tried watching at least SOME birthing videos though you knew your experience would be nothing like that. You tried to think back to them hoping to remember anything from the ones where petite women would have to squeeze out a 10lbs kid. Although even those babies would seem like light work compared to whatever was stuck in you. The pain made it much to hard to think but then suddenly you had an idea!

Gravity would help.

You gathered all your strength to heave yourself up from your hands and knees only onto your knees you could hopefully get into a crouching position from there. However as soon as you glanced up and caught your reflection in the mirror, in a split second, before you could change the outcome you realised it was a huge mistake.

The egg was absolutely humongous and your pussy was stretched grotesquely around it, completely white and on the brink of tearing and worst of all you could not kneel down as the egg was so gargantuan. It was touching the mattress. Or at least you couldn't kneel down without the egg sliding back into your tortured cunt a few inches with a sickening squelch.

You held back the urge to throw up and fought until you were in a squatting position.

You didn't care about making noise anymore, you screamed while pushing down on your pulsating stomach that was urging you to expell the giant egg while with your other hand you reached down to rub your clit. The clit you could barely locate as it was practically flat against the egg with your pussy pulled so taut.

This seemed to be somewhat helping you progress however an earth shattering orgasm caught you off guard and you lost your balance.

You fell onto your back and with the sudden change of position your birth canal caused the hideously massive egg to practically be sucked in once more. All the progress you made was undone and the wind was knocked out of you at the ginormous intrusion. You screamed and thrashed on the bed, violently pressing down on your stomach and pushing with strength you didn't know where you got from.

By this time you were laboring for over 8 hours. You laid in bed and just felt wave after wave of contraction wash over you, the weight of the egg in your birth canal had to be about 50lbs and every 10 minutes or so you felt a dull sensation of pleasure course through you as the contractions were easing the egg out of you agonising by agonising millimeter and every once in a while it'd brush against your tortured clit just right.

You were just about to resign yourself to your fate when you realised the small bottle of oil was within reach in this cursed position. There was still some left, not that it'd make much difference now, you were probably going to die like this. With a humongous egg wrecking your lower half.

You picked up the bottle and with hazy eyes read the instructions again. This was your last hope. Maybe you missed something.

'MORE effective if orally taken?!'

Your eyes widened as you wasted no time gulping down the last of it. Too bad you didn't read another sentence which would've clarified that you only need droplets in a glass of water.

It immediately took effect and kicked your labour into high gear again, you screamed as you practically felt your womb and birth canal undulating, forcing you to scream and push like never before. You spread your legs nearly into a split while thrusting your hips into the air.

"Fuck! FUCK! My cunt will tear, fuck fuck my pussy!!!"

The egg slowly slid out and stopped at its widest point. This made you trying to hold your legs back an utter waste as the egg was already doing it for you. The pain made you unable to breathe properly. You took shallow panicked breaths but by this point you lost all sense of your dignity.

You HAD to give birth then and there.

You let out an animalistic scream and screwed your eyes shut. A vein popped out on your forehead and no doubt you burst a few blood vessels. You didn't care anymore, you used both hands to push down on your stomach and gritted your teeth hard enough to chip them

"FUCK, COME OUT ALREADY!!"

Then with a contraction that made you see stars, the egg erupted from your canal, not to mention the aftershocks of your final effort pushed out at least 5 liters of whatever fluid this was out of your pussy along with the huge egg, mixed with urine that you couldn't bear to hold any longer. Your bed was sopping wet and your cunt twitched and pulsated as one of the most intense orgasms of your life ripped through you.

Before you passed out you mustered enough strength to glance at the clock on your bedside table.

It was almost midday.

When spring comes, people begin to notice the protruding roundness of his belly, his physician recommending him more exercise and his tailor having to let out his royal garb every few weeks.

Still, the king attempts to plant his heir in the queen’s womb every night, though now he must rest his belly on her back to complete their union.

Nine months since he appealed to the gods, murmurs of concern follow the king wherever he goes. His gait has slowed and widened, a ponderous, rocking movement as his great belly hefts side to side. His physician looks more and more disturbed every time he examines the tight ball growing beneath the king’s gently swollen chest, warning him that he must have an imbalance of humors that have led to a massive tumor. The movement the king has felt, and the physician now feels and even sees from outside, must be the cankerous wolf, the physician surmises grimly, a malady that eats the flesh of the afflicted. Most often found in the breasts of women, it could nevertheless affect any part of the body, and the king should be prepared for a painful illness and untimely death.

But something else happens, instead. The king’s cock begins to swell. At first it’s barely enough to notice, but after a few weeks, it’s so thick and bloated that he can barely stand to touch it. He shudders at the slightest brushes against the tender, stretched flesh, and just the most tentative touch of the queen’s lips makes him cry out and dribble seed.

The physician warns him that the wolf might be on the move throughout his body, that this is likely a tumor that could destroy his member, but the king has another thought. He remembers pleading with the gods, and believes that they must have finally answered his prayers, and this large and sensitive cock is a sign of fertility.

The overstimulation is excruciating, but he barely manages to squeeze his massively swollen cock into the queen. She gasps and squirms and trembles, feeling split open by him. Tears cover his face by the time he reaches his climax. Both of them cry out as a sudden torrent of fluid erupts from him, believing this outpouring to be seed given to him by the gods. Once the servants change their linens, they go to sleep convinced that their heir will come soon.

They’re right—it will just be much sooner than they think.

There are some very fun preg or belly kink ask games out there, but the one's I've seen are typically focused on one flavor of said kink, or aren't strictly pregnancy-focused or are heavily gendered.

So I thought I'd to cook up 50 fun, kinky but not outright explicit, questions for an ask game. All pretty broad in application, and gender neutral! Please enjoy! _______________________________________________________

What's your favorite aspect of pregnancy? What makes it hot for you in a kink sense?

Would you rather be with someone who IS pregnant, or be pregnant YOURSELF? (or both?)

Do you prefer pregnant bellies that sit high, or carry low?

Do you prefer a pregnant belly that leans more "torpedo belly" or "beachball belly", or something else?

Favorite pregnancy blemish (stretchmarks, veins, linea nigra, ect), if any?

If you could only pick one, would you keep hyperpreg, rapid preg, or perma preg? Why?

Favorite NON-physical attribute of pregnancy? (Ex: cravings, pregnancy brain, nesting)

Most niche part of pregnancy that fits into your kink?

How pregnant is TOO pregnant where it stops being hot?

Thoughts on ill-fitting/outgrowing clothes with pregnancy?

Do you prefer bare, partially covered, or tightly clothed pregnant bellies?

Do you have a favorite occupation to see a pregnant person performing?

In preg kink writings, when a pregnancy is abnormal in any way, do you prefer when it's supernatural (fantasy), technological (sci-fi), explained some other way, or not explained at all?

Who are some of your favorite preg kink artists/blogs?

Do you prefer when a pregnancy is super encumbering, or doesn't limit the pregnant person in an extreme way?

How do you feel about pregnancy and stuckage?

How do you feel about pregnancy and stuffing, or vore, or wg, or inflation, or any other kink that increases belly size?

How do you feel about pregnancy paired with another, non-belly related kink? (asker may specify)

Thoughts on pregnant belly worship?

Thoughts on pregnant belly manipulation? (like pushing on or shaking a pregnant belly)

What's something kinky you would love to do to a pregnant belly, outside of the realm of normal pampering or worship?

What's an outfit you'd love to see a pregnant person wear?

For kink purposes, what's your favorite stage of pregnancy?

Favorite view for a belly? (straight on, side profile, POV looking down as though it's yours, ect)

Do you prefer a pregnant person dressed to the nines, or basically in their pajamas?

Describe one of your most self indulgent preg kink fantasies in full.

Do you prefer super active pregnant bellies, or bellies with calmer babies?

Do you prefer smooth and blemishless pregnant bellies, or ones with lots of marks and veins and strain?

Favorite non-belly physical attribute of a pregnant person?

Favorite state for a belly button on a pregnant belly? (innie, outie, flat, ect)

Thoughts on pregnant bellies with a soft layer of chub around them?

Favorite word to describe a pregnant belly?

Do you prefer when a pregnant person is "maxed out" and at the height of their possible growth, or big but still growing, lending to some anticipation for what's to come?

What's your ideal rapid preg growth speed? How long should it ideally take to go from a flat tummy to full term?

Do you prefer a large/overdue singleton, or a batch of multiples?

What what point does "high order multiples" become "hyper preg" to you?

Thoughts on monsterpreg? If you enjoy it, what's your favorite monster to be/see someone pregnant with?

If you enjoy pregnancy encumbering mobility, do you prefer if its due to size, or weight? or both?

Do you think of a pregnancy kink as a more "vanilla" kink, or as one of the weirder ones?

What are some aspects of pregnancy that you enjoy in a kink way that AREN'T the pregnancy itself? (Ex: breeding, labor, birth, lactation, ect)

Have you told anyone you know IRL about your pregnancy kink? If so, who (within reason privacy wise), and how did they take it?

Favorite piece of pregnancy-centric media? (could be for kink purposes or otherwise)

Favorite part of a pregnant belly?

Thoughts on belly piercings on pregnant bellies?

In a kink context, what's an activity you would you like to be doing/see someone doing while pregnant?

At what point does a pregnant belly go from "big" to "huge"?

Do you have any preg kink "guilty pleasures"? What is one, if you have any and are willing to share?

Do you have another kink that you enjoy mixing with pregnancy? If so, what is it?

Do you have any irl stories or anecdotes that relate to your pregnancy kink in way way? Care to share?

Aww yeeeeeah, I don't know why that phrase is so arousing, but it is.

Then they realize it doesn’t end at nine months.

The full term baby inside continues to grow undeterred at human pace. The baby just won’t come out until their body deems it time, regardless of how big it gets.

Omg yeah it’s so 😵‍💫 Two scenarios that immediately jump to mind are:

Hardcore BDSM couple who purposefully go to the kink club when the sub goes into labor, and put him in a bodysuit so that every clench of his womb is highlighted in clinging latex, and no matter how hard he pushes, he can’t get past a crown. They start the scene with him locked into a chair with stirrups so everyone can see his cunt bulging and the head slowly stretching the latex between his legs.

But when he can’t push it any further, the dom gets him up and grabs him by bulge between his legs and pulls him along screaming and stumbling, then holds him in place by the pussy while strangers grope and rub off on him, or use his trembling hands. (His mouth is available too, but he’s in so much pain that he’ll definitely bite anything that’s forced in there ❤️) When he finally safewords, the dom only has to unzip the first few teeth of the suit’s zipper, and the latex suddenly fills with the shape of an entire head as the sub sobs and cums it out 🥰

Second scenario (noncon warning):

A royal servant knocked up by the king is laboring hard through a difficult work day. He begs his supervisor to let him stop and give birth but she won’t allow it, so he has to keep crawling along scrubbing floors while he starts to push, a rag in his mouth to muffle the screams. When his drenched trousers begin to swell with the emerging head, the supervisor scoffs at him and tells him to stop pushing, he’s not being paid to give birth to some peasant bastard right now. He desperately sobs that this is the king’s child and begs to see the king, saying the king will want this child born. Scoffing, the supervisor says oh yeah? We’ll go test that.

At first she just has him following her to the throne room, but he’s slow and bow-legged, practically limping, so her patience is already thin when she hears him grunting and turns to see that he’s bent against a wall and started to push. The sight of him crowning into the trousers infuriates her, and she threatens him with all sorts of horrible things if he doesn’t stop pushing right now. He wrings out an agonized wail as he forces himself to stop, and starts hyperventilating from the pain of the crown, begging to be allowed to keep pushing. She just scoffs and drags him upright by the arm. She can still see the head making a disgusting spectacle between his legs, and in her fury she grabs him by the bulge of his crown and starts to pull him along. His screams echo down the halls, doors opening everywhere as people peek out to see what all the commotion is.

When they enter the throne room the king demands to know what is going on here. The supervisor uses the poor boy’s bulging cunt to pull him to the floor, forcing him to kneel, then bows, herself, before explaining the situation. The king, of course, denies any parentage, smirking to himself as he remembers groping this servant boy and being delightfully surprised by the pussy he found, not wanting to pull out when he took it for his own because it felt so good.

But the king announces that he is benevolent, and that the servant may give birth to their shame. The servant sobs his thanks and grabs onto his own thighs as he curls over his tightened belly and screams, finally birthing the head into his trousers. He pants and wheezes while the child turns inside him, everyone in the room scoffing and muttering to each other how uncouth and perverse such a thing is, a man giving birth, in front of the king no less. When he finally screams out the shoulders, the heavy shape of a babe drops into his fluid-limp trousers, and he kneels there trembling.

Watching all of this, the king grins, and any who look closely would see the royal tabard tented, his majesty aching to claim the pussy that just produced his bastard heir. He gravely remarks on all of the crimes the servant has committed in this matter: sexual indiscretion, insubordination against a palace supervisor, sexual perversion, public indecency, slander of the king, and sullying the royal hall with something so crass as the blood and waters of his womb. But, the king says, he is merciful, and instead of the mutilation and imprisonment earned by these crimes, he will allow the criminal to serve his sentence in the king’s harem.

You've been cursed by a witch to swell up with slime eggs over and over with slime eggs until she feels you've suffered enough for the wrong you've done to her. Honestly, whatever you did didn't really piss her off that much, she was just falling behind in her work and you presented the perfect opportunity to help out. She tells you your pregnancy will only progress when you do certain actions. For shits and giggles, she makes sure the criteria for progressing will be different for each clutch of slime eggs you carry, but decides not to mention that. 

The first time, it's a classic every-time-you-cum situation. And oh man, are you horny as fuck the entire time. While you were quite upset at the beginning, by the time you're giving birth, you've conditioned yourself to get aroused by your condition, the sight and sensation of your belly growing after you've cum bringing you right to the edge of another orgasm. Even as the force of your orgasm pushes the first egg out of your body, you can feel their siblings still growing bigger inside of you.

The next time, you're extremely disappointed when you spend an entire day masturbating and your belly is still only a little bump. It turns out this time that your pregnancy only progresses when someone else cums inside (or even on) you. You only discover this when you become so desperate and horny that you call over a few ‘friends’ to help you out. By the time they leave you’re practically pinned down by the size of your belly, obviously with a much bigger clutch than the last one considering that you're already bigger than you were when you gave birth the first time. A few more visits like that and a trip to a kink club later, you're begging your friend to fuck you through your labor, your body torn between pain and pleasure as contractions take hold of you. 

The third time is even harder to figure out. You have a few growth spurts, but nothing crazy. In fact, your belly is still small enough to be hideable, and that disappoints you more than you thought it would. Then one day you find yourself invited to a friend's barbecue, a family friendly event so you wear a big baggy shirt. Your friends all know the situation, but you don't really feel like explaining to kids or anyone not in the know your situation. Which works out fine, at least until one of your friends' babies starts to cry. Fully wailing, as their parents bring them to a quieter, more private spot to soothe their child, but the damage has already been done. To you at least, who had suddenly grown to looking full term with a singleton. Thankfully, your friends run interference on explaining the situation to others and make sure you're nice and comfortable the rest of your time there. One of your friends even gives you a ride home, and is more than happy to, um, “watch a movie and chill” with you for the rest of the evening. To test your new theory, you put on a movie that you vaguely remember had a scene or so with a crying baby. To both of your pleasure, your theory is proven right, your friend fondling your growing belly as they fuck you over the back of your couch, telling you that someday they'll put their own babies in your womb. 

This time, it also seems to have an effect on your chest as well. Before, your chest had swollen with milk, obviously your body didn't fully get the memo you weren't carrying human offspring, so you'd found yourself with a pretty cute pair of tits. But with your third clutch, it seems like every time your belly grows, your breasts grow too. There may be some truth to what you'd heard about the sound of a baby's cry making a human suddenly start lactating, because it seems like your shirt is always soaked through after a growth spurt. It gets to the point where you buy a pump, and begin milking yourself like a cow, ear buds in your ears as you listen to a soundtrack of babies crying, and settle into a comfy spot to prepare for another massive growth session. 

Each time it's a different thing, some harder to figure out than others. Sometimes you don't figure it out at all, like when your pregnancy only progressed when your blood sugar hit a certain level or when someone with brown eyes looked a little too long at your belly. One time, it was every time you sneezed. That one was only difficult to figure out because you started growing during allergy season, and so many other things were happening that it was hard to pinpoint what it was that was causing you to constantly grow. Then allergy season ended, and you had to waddle around, your belly low and heavy, for months, not realizing you were one good sneeze away from squatting down and pushing out your clutch of slime eggs. Another time, it was when you smelled werewolf pheromones, which isn't something the human nose can pick up, so it took you a little while to figure out. It turns out, a friend of yours was secretly a werewolf, and once you figured it out they were more than happy to introduce you to a few more ‘friends’ who were especially excited to help you out.