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one funny thing about egg-producing genitals is that you almost never see them doing anything external. like, yeah, you want those things deposited inside, right, of course. you never get an ovipositor cumming on your face or lower back or something. it would kinda look silly, like you spilled tinned beans all over, little things sat there in their goop pathetically sliding away
I wish humans would breed like animals do. You can smell I‘m ovulating? Breed me right away. You wanna bend me over in public because you feel the need to knock me up? Use me in front of everyone.
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The idea of pushing out twins that come out in quick succession interests me greatly. Immediately after one torso is out, the head of the next one is showing up
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Sorry im advance I'm not sure how you like requests structured!!!
But would you be open to something with centaurs? Like the readers first time taking such a huge cock and their lover starting slow, maybe theres mutual masturbation or oral (super up to you, everything you write is fantastic) , but eventually the centaurs urge to breed takes over and it becomes rough but in a way the reader loves. Huge bonus points if it includes overstimulation, belly bulging, or squirting. Also bonus points for trans masc reader with tdick!!!!
He was scared of hurting you. Since the day you started dating, he’d been scared of it. The size difference was a big thing between the two of you, and you could understand his worry. But at the same time… You wanted him to fuck you raw more than you wanted him to be careful. You liked it a bit rough, okay? And he was a big centaur, able to fuck you so hard you would see stars. Of course you wanted him to destroy your hole.
The thought of getting fucked hard reminds you of that first time you got him to fuck you, how scared he was, and how fucking full you felt from the start.
“Come on, the tip is already in,” he says it trying to be encouraging, but it made your whole body freeze. He felt like he was spitting you in two, like he was about to create a fucking tunnel from the outside to your insides. You were about to be ripped in two.
“Just the tip?” You screeched, a bit of panic filtering through your words when you looked down and saw how much of him is still out of your body.
“Ye- Yes,” he sounded less sure about it right at that moment. You took a deep breath, and the sensation of being split in two receded, letting only pleasure in its way. “You can do it, babe. I know you can. Just a little bit more.” You cursed, arching your back and telling him to go a bit deeper…
At the end, you were able to fit him fully inside of you. Not only that, but it became what you most liked about your sexcapades. Having him fill you to the brim made you feel all kinds of powerful. But he was always so… careful. It was like that first time was burned in his brain and he didn’t want to do anything that could remotely harm you. Even if you were precisely asking for that harm.
But he would never hurt you. Or so he thought. Because on the second Wednesday of the tenth year since he passed his test, the heat hit him. And you were there, leaking and ready to be fucked within an inch of your life. Ready to be… bred.
And then he started talking. He told you about breeding you, about filling you to the brim. Until you couldn’t move because you’d be so full of his dick and his come you’d be unable to form a proper thought. And well… He wasn’t far from that because your tongue was lolling out of your mouth, and you were staring at the horizon while he mounted you like the monster he was.
His hand was on your t-dick and he was fucking your hole in a way not known to humans before. You couldn’t speak, you could barely moan between thrust and thrust, and holding your hands against the wall not to hit your head. You were in the seventh heaven.
Orgasm after orgasm rocked your body, his brain still coherent enough to bring you to the edge over and over, until it was almost painful, until your legs couldn’t hold you anymore, but he was there to hold you up while he continued to rut into your hole. And you preened, and you sobbed… Your legs were trembling so bad you could feel every single breath of his chest through his dick.
It was the most you’d felt ever, and at the same time, you didn’t know if you could hold it together anymore. But he didn’t give you any choice. He came. And came. And came again. Until your stomach was bloated, and you could feel his seed swimming inside of you. Every time you moved, everything inside of you ached in the best way possible.
When the heat finally passed, he pulled out and a river of come left your body, much to his pleasure, who sat back and watched how your pretty (his words) your hole looked right there and then. You weren’t fully coherent, though.
Every aesthetic and outfit can be improved with a big belly!
A casual, modern fit with a t-shirt, jeans, sneakers, all that good stuff? Add in a tummy to stretch that top and cause those jeans to have to stay unbuttoned! Find some smaller shirts that end up as crop tops for an added bonus.
A dark, broody, gothic vibe with refined yet alternative fashion? A round bump or soft middle would help that black outfit pop!
Full on grunge/emo rebellious fits with fishnets, flannels, and other funky attire? A large belly can stretch those fishnets cutely and make baggy clothes fit snugly! Because looking healthy and ripe can be punk rock, too!
A fanciful, elegant wardrobe full of dresses, tuxedos, and all things in between? Tailor them to show off that gravid gut and really stand out in the crowd! Beauty and fashion have no size limit, so let that stomach stretch those fabrics and flaunt what you got!
I'm not a fashion person, so my knowledge is limited. If anyone has more fun ideas, I wanna hear about it.
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im peanut brittle guy uhhhh. um. I love medieval times trans guys hehe.... maybe orgasmic birth denial? :3 -👽🛸
(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.
He takes his place in the throne room, grateful that his helm conceals the winces and twists of his features as he struggles to endure labor in silence. But it becomes so hot beneath the metal, heady and claustrophobic. He longs to turn and bend over, to hang onto the knight behind him as he rocks his hips. He wants to pace, and groan with his whole chest, and rub his tensing belly.
Hours pass. Vaguely, the knight is aware that if there were an emergency, he would be no help to the king, at this point. All he wants is to be back in his chambers, on his hands and knees, with a midwife comforting him.
When the urge to push overwhelms him, he knows it won’t be much longer. He tries not to, but his body needs it, tugging on the muscles in his belly, tempting his reflexes. He can only resist for so long before finally he indulges in a small push. His mouth falls open as he feels the head of his child lodge suddenly deeper within him, surely passing from his womb into his pussy.
The progress is intoxicating, and he forgets himself after that, pushing as hard as he’s able without moving too much. It’s easier than he thought to stay quiet, the effort stealing his sound from his throat. When a particularly forceful push makes him feel like the head is coming out of him, he finally lets a sound slip, the softest of grunts.
“Is it the child?”
The whisper comes from behind him, a knight much older than him who likes to press extra fingers into his cunt and thumb at his clit when he rides on top.
“Yes,” he breathes, loud as he dares. “It’s- coming out. I think it’s coming out of me.”
Suddenly there’s a hand between his legs. He barely swallows his yelp, a sudden warmth coursing through his body as the large hand feels his cunt through the his trousers. He finds himself very grateful that his tabard hides this impertinence from the court.
“Nothing is coming out,” the knight assures him calmly.
How could that be? “Then soon. I— hng!” He must bite his tongue to keep his cry at bay as the vice closes around him once again, urging the child ever-lower. More heat bubbles up within him as the head fills his pussy and creates pressure behind his clit.
“Oh.” Awe softens the gruff whisper behind him. “I feel it. It’s stretching you.”
“It’s big,” he whispers, struggling not to squirm where he stands. He didn’t expect it to feel like this. It hurts, yes, so much he can hardly bear it, but- this pressure on his most sensitive place… he chews his lip.
With his next push, something gives inside him, a sensation he can’t quite place. Then his thighs begin to grow warm, and he understands. There’s a slight flinch from the hand between his legs, but it steadies again, his fellow knight clearly understanding what’s happened. The babe feels even lower, though there’s less pressure now, somewhat relieving that strange feeling he’s had.
It feels as if barely a minute passes before he contracts again, and he lets his chin fall ever so slightly with the effort of his push. He knows that he shouldn’t do this, that if a babe drops from between his legs before the whole royal court, he’ll be found out and imprisoned, or at the very least stripped of his knighthood. But he can’t help it. He must push, as vital as his breath.
And what a push it is, heaving the head low and making his mouth fall open as the awful stretching pain ignites into the worst agony he’s ever experienced. The pressure, too, increases somehow, right against that special place. His clit, already rendered to a sharp point of pain, begins to twitch and swell all the more.
“Oh, fuck,” he breathes against his visor. Ever so slightly, he rocks his spreading hips and his baby-filled cunt back against his fellow’s hand. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“I feel it. It’s huge. I can’t believe that’s coming out of you.”
Neither can he. Desperately, he wishes to scream, or drop into a squat, or lay back on the floor and pull his legs as far apart as he can get them. He’s almost relieved when the next contraction comes.
He pushes so hard that his thighs tremble, and wheezes through his teeth as he crowns into his lover’s hand, cunt burning, pressure growing. God, it really feels like he needs to…
No, this isn’t the time. He puts everything he has into breathing without making too much sound, the air thick and thin at once in the confines of his visor.
The next one comes, and the sensation in his clit winds sharper, making him instinctively squeeze his legs together. For a moment he feels like the head is about to burst out behind his thighs, but the knight’s hand stays firm, and the head simply bobs where it is, an instant of relief before it returns to a full crown.
“Hah- aah—“ He feels drool tickle one corner of his mouth. His lover holds the head just-so, keeping his cunt stretched to its absolute limit, burning all the way back towards his arse, and that pressure…!
“Okay,” the other knight whispers behind him, “let me try…”
He begins to push the head back in. The birthing knight flinches, his deepest instincts railing against the sensation, but before he can fully register what’s happening, the widest point of the skull digs into that special spot inside him.
Despite clenching his mouth shut, a high moan buzzes in his throat. His baby-heavy hips roll into his lover’s hand, and jolts of pain shock through his paper-thin pussy lips and the stretched flesh inside of his hole, his clit throbbing so strongly that he would have screamed in any other place.
He cums and cums and cums, until tears wet his cheeks and birthing fluid bursts in spurts from his pussy.
The knight behind him simply whispers, “Fuck,” and lets up, allowing the stimulation to ease, though the returning crown chases all of the pleasure with fiery pain.
The birthing knight is left trembling. He doesn’t even have the strength to push when he contracts again, but his body still manages to nudge the baby forward, and his lover responds again by easing the head back in. Lust and fear flood his chest, unsure if he can handle cumming like that again, but it washes over him all the same.
It goes on like that for the rest of the watch. He doesn’t cum with every contraction, but he feels like he will, sometimes teased for several minutes before the next one hits him. Soon there is no thought in his head but the blinding, white-hot pleasure-pain between his legs, and the ecstasy that keeps flooding his body, even as it shivers with pain.
He doesn’t even notice being dismissed by the change of guard, just starts walking blindly when his companion urges him to move, still holding the baby in. The clatter of so much armor drowns out his groans as his wobbling legs struggle to carry him, his ongoing birth feeling like a boiling welt even as he shudders through the aftershocks of his most recent orgasm.
Knowing they won’t make it back to the barracks, the other knight pulls him into the first empty room they pass and pulls the door shut. As he lays his back against the wall, the birthing knight thinks the babe will simply drop out of him the moment it’s no longer held in, but when the other knight starts using both hands to unfasten the cuisses from his thighs, his battered cunt somehow hangs onto the child’s head.
The left cuisse clatters to the floor, then the right, and the other knight reaches for the laces of his trousers. But his body has already tightened again, and he’s already bending at the knees and finally releasing the gravelly, animal groan that’s been building within him as he pushes. For a moment, he fears the head won’t even fit after all of that, but with one last snap of pain that makes him break into a small yelp, the head is born. It stretches his dripping trousers, a sight that leaves his helper speechless for a moment.
He feels the child turning within him, and cringing at the strange sensation, keeps pushing. A shoulder or an elbow digs into that place that makes his clit jump, and with one last gush of fluid, he cums the shoulders out. The child tumbles into his trousers while his pussy spasms and twitches.
While handing him the child, his companion eyes the tender-red place between his legs, dripping with birthing fluid and arousal. “Next time, we need to make sure everyone sees this. They’re not gonna believe me when I tell them how much our boy likes pushing bastards out of his cunt.”
That cunt tightens, and he squeezes his thighs together and whimpers, cumming to the promise of next time.
the way that cock splits open pussies is so delicious to me. the outer lips of a cunt clinging desperately to a fat dick as it pounds away. the cute little clit can no longer hide away in the folds because it’s stretched so wide.
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