Idk

- BK

When it happens, I can tell exactly when it really hits you; that deep, insistent ache from inside.

To be fair, that in itself isn't entirely new, it's been happening on and off all day, but all it takes is a little firm reassurance on my end for you to leave the matter where it lies. After all, you trust me entirely; you trusted me when I explained away your weight gain over the past several months as nothing more than an unfortunate concentration of water weight around your midsection, and you even trusted me when I easily rationalized your water breaking an hour ago as just a spontaneous accident, and certainly nothing that would warrant us missing out on our trip.

That was your first mistake.

"Stop squirming," I murmur, noticing the way you've been trying to find a comfortable position for the last fifteen minutes. Your apology is quiet, marked by a hitch in your breath, and I don't miss the way your hands are currently grasping at the edge of your seat. "People are going to stare, you know," I add, although it's a little late for this; just about everyone on this train has taken notice of the clearly uncomfortable and quite heavily pregnant girl, and some have already whispered among themselves, wondering if it's even safe for you to be traveling in your condition.

Of course, you haven't heard a word of it, not when you're so focused on trying not to sweat and squirm in your seat beside me.

"I-I don't feel good…it feels like s-something is—"

"Didn't you hear me the first time? It's nothing, now stop it," I admonish you coldly, narrowing my eyes down at you. God, you look so good like this, with your cheeks flushed and brows furrowed, trying so hard to be good for me no matter how much your body is screaming that something is wrong. "Just sit. Still. No wriggling, no whining, and no pushing."

Confusion flickers through your eyes at the last words, but before you can even ask what I mean, you press your lips firmly together, whimpering as another tight, dreadful pain tightens its grip around your midsection. Sweat beads at your temples, and I can see the way your belly visibly contorts with the force of the contraction. I want to touch it, want to feel the sensation of those babies I put in you moving steadily downward, but I keep my hands to myself. For now.

Unfortunately for you, it becomes clear that whatever is happening to you is getting impossible to ignore, and when you shift in your seat once again I can see a significant bulging in your leggings that wasn't there when we had first sat down. Tears stream down your face as you try to tell me that something's wrong, something is stretching your poor little pussy wide open, but the pain has stolen all the sound from your throat and left you a whimpering mess as you try to obey me, try not to push.

You last all of fifteen seconds.

"It h-hurts, it's burning, I can't—" you moan through clenched teeth, and the bulge in your leggings grows bigger as whatever it is seems to be forcing its way out of you whether you make the conscious choice to push or not. When you finally give in and bear down against my wishes, a strangled mix between a yelp and a sob tears its way out of you, and all at once the soaked fabric between your legs stretches outward with a solid, squirming mass. I make no move to help you as you fumble to pull them down enough to reveal the wriggling, wailing baby that had just been born into your pants, a baby you had most certainly known nothing about.

Loud murmurs and hurries whispers of our fellow passengers erupt around us, and as you look up at me with a desperate question in your eyes, all I can do is shake my head disapprovingly. "You just couldn't do the one thing I asked of you," I click my tongue condescendingly. "and now all of these people are going to have to watch you give birth again."

Your face drains of what little color remains, but before you can open your mouth to ask what I mean, you feel it again; that awful, contracting tightness from within you, that feeling of something massive inching its way down. The cry that tears free of you almost seems to harmonize with the wails of your first baby, but instead of giving in and pushing, you shakily try to press your thighs closed.

anyways, bruce going to labor at a gala, he’s so far into his labor he has to give birth infront of everyone. He’s whimpering and wailing as clark pulls down his pants and everyone has to see his swollen vulva as it pushes out a giant fat fucking baby

Clark could tell everyone to get out or cover Bruce, but he enjoys the attention people give his wife way too much.

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.

wip doodle

The end of my ‘now’ extended into a quieted howl as I stumbled against the wall. Scrabbling at the painted brick, I tried to keep myself upright as the contraction intensified. I could feel the head of the brat that had butchered my body moving down my pussy, pushing my walls apart and threatening to split my lips open, pants or no pants. I let out a shuddering moan as I tried to reach for my waistband, feeling myself start to bulge all too fast.

I snapped my hand back as the contraction tapered away, the bulge in my crotch receding as the head stopped moving down. Fuck, not here. Anywhere but here. I glanced up, trying to look for somewhere to escape to. Nowhere presented itself. I whined as I felt a squirm inside my cunt. I had to keep moving then. I couldn’t give birth in the middle of the hallway.

Only a few minutes later I was struggling to keep myself standing upright as my womanhood began to open around the head traveling down. I tried my best not to push with the contraction, knowing that if the head slipped too far out I’d be immobilized. But I couldn’t stop myself. Hours of sitting in class, enduring an agonizing labor, resisting the urge to push as my cervix opened and my waters flooded out. I had no strength left to keep myself from pushing.

I didn’t even realize I was pushing until after the contraction, where I gasped a little too loudly and relaxed. I whimpered, cursed, and looked down at my spread legs. Stupid. So stupid. I didn’t want to reach down there, already feeling my pussy bulging out into my pants with my brat. Fuck. Fuck, I had to get my pants off, now.

I sucked down air as both hands flew for my waistline yet again, fumbling all the way. I could feel myself start to tense again, and I gasped as a contraction seized my womb and forced me to push. I barely had any time to react, much less recover from the previous contraction. I bore down into my pants without a thought for my situation. My head completely blanked as I gave in to my maternal urges, wiping away all thought. I couldn’t think, I could only push.

Before I knew it, I was on my knees, panting hard as I pulled my pants down. It took a moment, put I yanked the waist of the school-issued slacks to my knees, the head now free to exit me. I let out a groan, cupping my red-hot swell as a head slowly slid into my panties. I had barely even noticed I was crowning. The head was slow emerging into my underwear, but I barely felt the burn. I guess I sort of turned off my consciousness when it got too painful, because before I knew it there was an entire head wedged between my legs. Fuck.

I was gasping for breath as the contraction faded away, leaving my entire body shaking. The first thing I did was swear, then reach a shaky hand to tug my panties away from the head of my brat. I could feel it shifting against my thighs. I almost threw up. Fuck, there was a baby coming out of me. I slowly leaned against the cool wall, still on my knees. Letting out a few rattly sobs, I tried to open my legs a little bit more. My pants were still stuck above my knees, and I knew there was going to be no moving from here, so I just sat and sobbed until the next contraction.

I bore down hard again, my only desire now to get this curse of a baby out of me. I could deal with it and my exposed state once I did. It slowly emerged, but at the same time it was fast. I could feel the shoulders spreading me apart, which made me yelp in pain as they passed. Then it was a slow slide out of my swollen pussy and into my pants, along with a gush of my leftover waters. I stared down at myself, my swollen stomach no longer so swollen. Sure, my navel still stuck outward, and there was definitely a more then noticeable swell, but it was obvious I was no longer full of baby.

I was able to push my hips back slightly and peek over my belly, down into my pants. There it sat squirming, the little brat that had tormented my life for the past ten and a half months. As I watched it squirm and begin to cry between my knees, something began to come over me. I knew it was my instincts overriding my common sense, but I wanted to take care of it. To nurse it and help it grow. To teach it to not be like it’s momma, who delivered in the middle of-

The bell made my head snap up, my heart suddenly racing. Oh fuck. I had taken too much time. I glanced down at my baby one last time, muttering to it:

by anjel-gates

“Nngh!” he groaned, clutching his large, rock-hard belly.

“Breathe,” she told him, waddling over.

Panting, he struggled to gain control of his breathing. The contractions were getting worse. He never knew he could feel so much pain and survive. Surely, he must be dying and the baby was killing him.

Giving his belly a quick, loving pat, she nudged his knees, spreading his legs. He closed his eyes, knowing that it had been months since she had seen his private region.

“Gah!” he gasped as a contraction hit hard and unexpectedly. He gritted his teeth, hoping the pain would pass soon.

Gently, she moved his enlarged penis out of the way, e

breech baby, huge and overdue. my birth canal is stuffed so tight with my baby’s body that i can’t calm down. it’s only once the baby is visible that my birth team realizes just how brutal this will be, but they don’t say anything. i’m gasping with every breath and crying with every contraction, begging to be put out, please, please just give me a cesarean! i can’t take it, ohhh god…

after several extremely intense pushes i am turned over onto my hands and knees, barely able to hold my body up, but still trying fruitlessly to push the baby Out. i’m hyperventilating, only able to utter the words, “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuhh—“ before i sink into to another contraction, grunting through another pushhh… “AAAHH!! fuck, ohh god, ohh my god, it hurts! make it stop, please, please, please!!!

after that, it’s just screaming. i’m stretched so tight that the only thing i can feel besides pain is fear.

my team is gentle as they try to soothe me but it’s far too late for deescalation. realizing this, they seem to switch their tactic, possibly preparing for the worst. the doctors hands trace over me, perhaps trying to help me stretch as a last resort. another contraction descends upon me and i shriek.

my doctor speaks firmly, telling me, “this is it, deep breath in and puuush push push down into your bottom, let’s do this.”

i do, and it is terrible. i can very well feel the giant, wet pop as my baby’s legs finally shoot free, tearing me around its plump belly but staying put, legs hanging out of my destroyed vagina, the arms keeping it stuck. i groooan and whine, trying to catch my breath as my team marvels at my quick progress. very suddenly, as if snapping out of a trance, they spring into action to end my agony. in an unsteady but reassuring voice, my doctor congratulates me. “it’s a boy,” he tells me, “and he’s halfway out. try to stay calm, i’ll help you get him out.” i feel the doctors fingers enter my vagina, saying, “easy, easy, pant, there you go, almost done..” and after several seconds of excruciating pain, he tugs my baby’s arms free one after the other. his little body shifts, instantly doubling the pressure on my perineum as the weight is pulled down, but not out.

“gruuuuhhh, fuck, FUCK! head, head, PULL!!! get him out! it’s stuck, i can’t push out the headdd… ohhh god, ohh please, get my baby OUT!”

i scream in terror and pain as the doctor slips his finger inside me to dislodge the head, widening my hole in a final swipe and yanking my son out of me.