AlwaysEgged

(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!

(you don’t have to or anything, sorry, I don’t know how you’d like your asks to be set up)

The pains have been coming for so long, you've completely lost track of time. Your owner came home a while ago to find you writhing on the floor in agony, holding your round, heavy stomach. You looked up at them with your big tear filled eyes and begged them to help you. They just smiled and rubbed your head.

"Don't worry pet," they said, "you're doing just fine, not long now."

You whined in pain and confusion. It felt like you were dying, like your poor belly was going to tear itself apart. You cried and and clutched desperately at your owners leg as another pain gripped you.

Your owner moved you to a corner filled with soft blankets. They sat with you, cooing at you softly as you struggled through the pains. They got worse and happened closer and closer together. You begged them to make it stop, cried that you were dying, tried to tell them something was wrong. They just pet you and rubbed your belly and told you everything was alright. They had been saying the same thing for months. Every time your asked why your tummy was getting so big and round or why your chest was so sore they would smile that same smile and tell you not to worry.

Now the pains are coming almost on top of each other. You get barely any time to rest between them. You're crying and screaming with each one, curled up around your spasmsing belly. Suddenly you feel a horrible, insistent pressure between your legs. Something deep and primal inside you tells your to bear down with it. You do, holding your breath and straining. You feel something move inside you and the pressure only seems to get worse.

Your owner notices your pushing and tsks at you.

"don't push yet sweetheart, you're not ready yet." they chide.

"please," you beg, "I have to, have to push. Hurts so bad, so much pressure, pleeeeaasse!!" You trail off into a scream as another pain takes you.

"don't push." your owner says, a warning in their voice. "I'll tell you when you're ready."

You try your best to obey. Even through the pain and fear you still want to be good but it's so hard. Everything in you is screaming for you to push. The pressure is mind numbing. You whimper and writhe and cry, gripping your owners pant leg with shaking fingers.

"good," they say as you shudder through another pain without pushing. "so good for me, just a bit longer pet."

"hurts," you sob, "please, make it stop, hurts too much, please!"

"hush," they tell you

Despite you not pushing, whatever is inside you has moved slowly down towards your opening. That horrible, unveiling pressure so low inside you now. With the next pain you feel it begin to press out splitting you open. You yelp as your hole begins to strain.

Your owner puts a firm hand down between your legs, pressing against it and stopping the small bit of progress. You gasp and jerk at the feeling of the thing being pressed back inside. The pressure and pain increases tenfold and you cry out.

"please, please, please," you chant, "please, it hurts, so much pressure, please!"

Your body screams at you to push but the solid barrier of your owner's hand makes even trying useless.

"Not yet," they murmur to you, wiping your tears with their free hand. "just a bit longer honey, I know you can do it."

You sob but try your best to obey. After all, they know best.

you reach down and pick her up, carefully setting her bum in the palm of your hand so you don't squeeze her too hard when you lift her. she scrambles to escape, but you lift her higher until she realizes the fall is too dangerous and she stops struggling. she peers up at you, curious and shy. she's entirely nude, but doesn't seem to think anything of it - just seems wary to be handled in such a way by a human.

you crouch down and hold her closer to your face. you greet her, ask her name, but she doesn't seem to understand. at least, she has no response. she shifts herself until she's straddling your thumb, thighs parted and tiny rounded belly pressing into the meat of your finger. her belly contorts, and she makes a face of effort. her thighs clamp around your thumb, and her little hands grip around your thumbnail. you touch her belly with your other finger, feeling how taut and hard it's become. it seems like she might be pregnant, you realize. and it looks like her baby intends to arrive soon. you've caught her in a dire moment.

you gently coax her to lie back, and she pants for breath, hands resting on either side of her swollen tummy as if to support it from tilting to either side. you use your fingers to spread her thighs open, and she watches you, nervous and curious and embarrassed to be inspected in such a way. her belly tenses again, and you can see her vulva starting to swell as the heavy weight in her birth canal is pushed down, down, down. her opening parts into a tiny teardrop, and you can see something dark starting to peek out. as soon as she lets out a breath and falls back, the dark spot disappears, sinking back into her.

you take her inside your home, and despite her discomfort, she peers around with open curiosity. you set her down on your desk and open your drawers of supplies, rifling through until you find just the right thing: a strip of cloth, more than large enough for your purposes. she can’t move far and keeps watching curiously anyway as you take scissors to it and fashion her some tie-secured panties. to you, the fabric is light and flowy, a soft weave in a delicate purple. to a being of her size, it’s incredibly rigid and sturdy. she still looks on curiously as you bring the strip up and between her little thighs. the strips on the back you wrap around under her belly, tying loosely. she peers up at you and you give the knot a quick yank, watching as her eyes bulge out in surprise and she lets out a tiny, wordless yelp. she scrabbles at the knot helplessly, unable to see it past her swollen belly, and you tie the back to match.

the constriction under her swell isn’t enough to hurt her, but she quickly realizes it won’t be coming off until you see fit to cut it with little sewing scissors, the only thing thin enough to make it between her delicate skin and the tight fabric. the crotch of the stretch-free fabric presses tight between her legs. nothing is coming out until it’s removed.

she seems to plead wordlessly with you, more and more frantic by the minute. eventually, she has to stop her pleading as her body contracts harder and harder. you watch her waddle and shuffle awkwardly in circles over your desk, flapping her wings in distress. her tiny belly button protrudes from her middle, and her breasts — proportionately large but still so tiny — sway and ripple gently when she makes less smooth movements. she starts dropping down into a squat, the fabric between her thighs tenting out with the dome of a baby fairy’s head momentarily before always receding again. she paces and squats and pushes and stands to pace again in a relentless cycle. you watch her for nearly an hour like that. her stamina seems aided by magics, and you begin taking notes on the entire process.

of course, a part of any good field journal is illustrative sketches. you draw her as she holds poses, as she places her hands on a book and bends at the waist to sway back and forth in an attempt to alleviate the pressure that continues to surge in her canal, as she falls back into a squat and pinches her belly between her folded thighs so tightly that her breasts nearly sit atop her knees, as she drops down to kneel and spread her thighs and sink down to press her forehead against the cool wood, reaching back to pull helplessly at the fabric that’s become a cage.

eventually you get bored of the poses she finds comfortable, and you contort her into your own. you take her in your hands and pose her like a doll, and she struggles and whines and cries out but those sounds always die down back into sweet, tiny little grunts of effort as her body forces her to push, no matter what strange position you’ve set her in.

you take her by the ankles and hold her upside down, making her push against gravity. her face goes even more red like this, her belly sagging the wrong way and blood pooling in her cheeks. you set her back down on her side, using the back of your pencil to prod at her belly, to lift it and shift it to the side and press her belly button flat, to pull at her tiny stretch marks and jostle her swollen breasts.

by the time you finally get bored and deem your studies and notes thoroughly fleshed out, it’s the next morning and her tiny body is beyond exhausted. you snip the fabric of the panties away carefully, but with her next contraction, her push is so weak that her baby barely moves a millimeter further toward her pulsating, abused vulva. the baby’s been kept inside so deeply that it hasn’t even stretched her opening yet, and it seems like she might take another few hours to finally get this baby out of her.

you lie her on her side again, pulling her top leg up until it’s bent and curled in close to her swell. you get a good view like this as it bulges at her perineum and she grunts softly, exhausted, then begins to cry quietly and helplessly. her little belly contorts in shape around the baby as she contracts and pushes, and you watch as the head peeks out and bobs back in, over and over again. every push is ten steps forward, nine steps back. by the time she’s nearing a full crown, you’ve had several meals. you watch her roll over onto her back with her thighs parted so far her entire body shakes with the strain. her swollen belly rises above her, taut and straining, breasts fallen to either side and pussy bulging so red and angry you wonder how her skin hasn’t torn.

Do you think you can eat a little bit of your dinner for me? I know, I know your tummy hurts, but you need to have something to eat and drink so you're strong enough to push the puppies out, ok? How about I give you some tummy rubs while you be brave and try and eat something ok? Yeah?

Oh wow, you really have gotten so big. Your poor tummy’s hanging so low now. No give there whatsoever. Oh, you like that? Is that nice? Oh bless you, you really love that, don't you? Well, you keep eating and I'll keep rubbing. Oh! Oh poor baby, I felt that one. Did it hurt? Yeah? Let's give you some extra firm rubs to relax things. There we go. A bit better? Ok, can you manage another few mouthfuls? No, I don't think you're full yet. Just a little more for me. Good boy.

(1 hour later)

Hey, hey, don't look like that. The shower’s going to help with the pain, we're not going to shampoo you or anything, we're just going to get you wet and warm, ok? It's to help you feel better. Calm down. Calm DOWN. Ok look, look, I'm getting undressed so I can come in with you, ok? You hold on to me, ok? We'll go in together. It's ok. I'm going to turn the water on now, slowly, so you don't fucking freak out again. There, it's ok, it's ok, I've got you. I'm not going to let go. Good boy. Well done. You're being very brave. Let's get that nice hot water all over your tummy and back. God, you really are gorgeous like this. Such a handsome boy. Look what's happened to your ass, God. No, I didn't mean literally, don't try and see it, you'll hurt yourself.

(2 hours later)

Ok, listen, you're JUST sleeping in my bed because I need you close because you're having the puppies, ok? I know you'll just work yourself up and not sleep otherwise, and you're going to need your rest. This is a ONE TIME THING. I'm not having you whimpering about sleeping in your crate for another year, ok? Good. Yes, you can have a cuddle. Come here. You've been very brave, so I'm going to give you a back rub and stroke you until you fall asleep afterwards, ok? Good boy.

(3 hours later)

Mmm? Hmm? Oh fuck, I… are.. are you GRINDING on me? I was ASLEEP. No, I think you knew exactly what you were doing. I decide when we fuck, not you, go back to sleep. No, I don't care. You don't just get what you want. I don't care how much you rub your belly on my cock, it's not going to happen, stop it. STOP IT. I… I… fuck… alright FINE, but get on your fucking knees and get your face in that pillow. I don't want to see your smug fucking face.

There you… go… be careful what you… fucking… wish for. You like that? This… what you… wanted? You're lucky… you're in… labour, the things… I'd do… to you… to wipe… that smile… off your face.

WHOA! Fuck. Fuck. Hey, hey, it's ok, it's ok. Sweetie, shh, it's ok. Calm down. You didn't do anything wrong, it's ok, you didn't have an accident, that was your waters breaking, it's part of having puppies, it's normal. I'm not mad at you, I promise. You don't need to be sorry.

Come on, I'll throw some towels down and we can get you on the whelping bed, come on. Lie on here for me. Legs up, there we go, good boy. Let me just adjust this… and this… is that ok? Are you comfortable? Are you sure? You don't look comfortable. Let's move this back? There we go, much better.

Ok sweetie, things are going to start moving a bit quicker now. You're going to need to start to push out the puppies soon, but it's going to take a long time and you need to do exactly what I say or it's going to be harder, ok? You might even hurt yourself. Now, you're going to do what I say. Say it back. Good boy.

It's ok, it's ok, the pain’s going to pass soon. There. That was a contraction. Those are going to come more and more and they're there to help you push the puppies out, ok? When you feel one of them, you can push down, like you're doing a number two, ok? And if you do enough, the puppies will come out.

Ok push for me now ok? Push! Good boy, well done. You can stop now. We just need to keep doing that. You're doing so well. I'm so proud of you. Oh I know it does, I know. But you're going to have to be brave for me.Now when you push next time, I want you to make this deep, low sound deep in your chest, ok? Huuuuuuuurgh. Just like that. Huuuuuuuurgh. Now you try. Good, that's very good! You make that noise while pushing and it just makes everything easier. Now try to calm down and relax, we're in for a long night. 

(8 hours later)

Sweetie, look at me. Look at me. LOOK AT ME. Ok listen, you're going to have to stop pushing for a bit, ok? You're exhausted and we need time for your pussy to stretch to let the pups out. I know, I know you feel like you need to but you don't. When you next feel the urge to push, I want you to take shallow breaths and puff them out through your mouth like this ok? Huff huff huff. Now you try. No, that's a bit too deep, try again. Out through your mouth. Huff huff huff. That's right, well done, good boy. You just do that when you feel like you want to push, ok?

It’s ok, I'm not leaving, I just want to check how things are going on your back end. Oh, I can see them! Oh, that head’s really bulging you out, you poor thing. We just need to get those lips loosened and it'll fit, I promise. Let's just get them warm and wet with some nice licks, shall we?

Oh? Oh you like that, huh? I'm not surprised, your poor little lips are so tight they're shiny. But they'll stretch some more, we just need to give them time. There we go, good boy, very good boy. Oh? Hahaha, oh my God, look how hard you are! I’ve never seen you so big! You have been VERY good, let's be nice to your dick for a little bit. Oh, you ARE sensitive! So cute. It's ok, I'll be gentle. That's it, good boy. 

Hey, HEY. I said don't push! Yes you are, I can see it! Don't you fucking lie to me. Little breaths, like we talked about. I'm not doing this for my fucking health, I'm trying to keep your fucking pussy in one piece. Ok? Ok. You going to be a good boy for me? Right, let's get back to it. No, it's alright, I know it's hard, just try not to do it again. I love you too. 

(1 hour later)

That's it. That's it, it's nearly there now. Oh I know, sweetie, I know it hurts so bad. You hold my hand, ok. You squeeze it as hard as you need to but try not to push too hard, ok? Little breaths for me. It's coming, it's coming, I promise.

A little bit longer sweetheart, little bit longer. Big stretch, you're doing SO well, it's nearly there. Nearly there. Ah, ow. OW. No it's ok, you squeeze as hard as you need to. You're being SO good. Aaaaaand… THERE. The head's out! It's out. Well done! Well done! SUCH a good boy!

Nearly there now, nearly there. That's the hard part, you can push for me again now. Good boy, well done. Stop pushing for me for a second, STOP PUSHING. Good boy, looks like the shoulders might be stuck, let me just…. ah, there we go. One last big push for me? There it is, good boy and… THERE! There it is! A girl! Well done, oh well done, good boy!

And it's definitely more than you've been able to take before!

You try and beg them to take it slow, say how much it is, your pussy isn't used to anything that big! And your clit is hammering in time with your heartbeat and you're shaking when they start rubbing it super fast while they keep fucking you...

Then, before you've even gotten used to the current size, they squeeze the pump again and you whine, oh fuckkkk that's WAY too much! You're starting to sob, overstimulated from the stretch and the attention on your clit, and your partner shushes you, tells you it's okay! And then they take the hand on your clit and use it to push your own teat into your mouth, holding it there so your're forced to suck on it.

All the while, they're still fucking you, and you can't do anything about it, and your brain finally starts to shut off when the pump squeaks again, and all you can do is take it...

Hours later, your partner undoes the release on the strap and steps back, leaving the toy still lodged in you, and then you're dazzled, blinking in even the dim bedroom light. Your partner is behind you, one hand on your tit, groping, and the other circling around the end of the toy inside you. You're held up by their shoulder and your wrists and ankles are still bound, so you're forced to watch in the mirror beyond the foot of the bed as the toy is finally pulled out of you... You cum hard, and the evidence of all the other orgasms forced upon you joins it, flooding the bed further as your hole flutters vainly, the muscles exhausted and stuck where they've been forced for the past few hours.

You're so open, and you finally look properly at the toy, still inflated at the size it was removed from you...

How THAT managed to fit inside you, you have no idea. It makes you feel light-headed just looking at it.

you've been pregnant with my puppies for months. your body has grown to accommodate them. you've got a rotund swell to your belly, and rows of nipples developed along your tummy. there's a sway to your gait that, even viewing you from behind, you are so undeniably pregnant. the ultrasound revealed three pups. today, we finally meet them.

here you are, on all fours. belly brushing against the bedroom floor- crouched over a plastic tarp laid over carpet to prevent stains. this is the room where life itself was conceived, and where life will be birthed. you've been laboring for hours, moaning under your breath, swearing as your cervix dilates. Labor, as it turns out, is a laborious process. your face blushes red. sweat beads on your forehead. as your mate, i pace around you worriedly for hours. i dutifully care for your ever need, bringing you water, providing you comfort and care.

you feel a shift in your lower abdomen. one of the puppies has lodged its head past your cervix. a particularly powerful groan overtakes you as it slides down your canal. you scream. fuck, you've never been stretched like this before. you yell at the top of your lungs with every contraction, gasping for breath between each pause. the pup begins to crown. the top of its head peeks out from your wet, whelping hole.

i urge you on. push, push, push.

with a grand effort, you focus all your muscles to birth our pup. you're stretched over the widest part of the head. sweat beads on your forehead. the pup's head slides past. a gush of amniotic fluid bursts and splatters over the tarp. im quick to attend to the pup. gently catching it and licking it clean. i excitedly show you our newborn. i know you want to hold it, but there's more work for you to do. i lay our pup in the nursery by our bed.

your tummy is still so full. another pup is getting kicky. you feel a movement, followed by an added heft in your cervix. this one's so much bigger than the last. you push, but there's no budge. you whimper feeling the pain of your cervix widening and failing to move the large pup down. you try to relax your body. taking a deep breath, and exhaling slowly. it's difficult. it hurts. the puppy wriggles inside you, and makes it past your relaxed cervix. it's entered your birth canal, descending downward. it's absolutely huge. you feel its crown force your insides wide. you're not sure your body can handle a pup of this size. but you have to. you must birth our pup. your whelping hole bulges. you scream. you push. you strain. it's not coming out. and, oh god, does it burn. you rock your body forward and back, doing anything to relieve the pressure. the pup is almost out. i take my hand to carefully pry you open further. my fingers feel hot on you. c'mon. you can do it. birth our pup. you let out a guttural groan as you bear down. the oversized pup escapes out and into my hands, kicking and screaming into the world. a stream of fluid follows and soaks your inner thighs. your hole reels from the stretch, slightly agape from birthing, contracting and flexing rhythmically.

i carefully tend to the pup and leave it at the nursery. you're panting hard to recover from the strain of birthing our enormous pup. your belly rises and falls with each shallow breath, gradually getting deeper until your breathing stabilizes. i pet you along your back. you're doing a wonderful job giving birth to our puppies. there's one more to go. you feel a mass slip easily past your cervix. in fact, it's barely perceptible. this one's real small. it must be the runt of the litter. it glides down your canal easily. you feel your muscles expand, but it's nothing compared to the last birth. in fact, it's somewhat pleasant. or... even orgasmic. your whelping hole flutters. you're cumming. you shiver as your orgasm takes over your whole body. you squeak, because with almost no effort at all, the little pup is ejected into my hands. together, we look over our three puppies to make sure they're nice and healthy.

But still on the vines tho (because obviously they grow bigger and better when incubated inside a fertile boy) and all of them are miserably watching there bellies grow all different shapes and sizes until its time to harvest and birth the melons and watching their bellies tense up and contract around these prize winning fruits that the farmer just absolutely dotes over and they have to push but not push out like a normal birth since theyre still on the vine they have to push away or even up from the vine to make progress and the farmer taking such good care of his crop holds the boy up into a squat like those partners that hold the birther up into those gravity birth positions

Anywho i totally agree that there isnt a lot of watermelon writing or art, so thank you, its very…refreshing 🤣🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉

ohhh I can imagine them bound to those garden arches people use for vines, strung up with their bellies dangling heavily below them...

They could be held up in a net, or if you're not so nice, you tie them up with no support for their massive, swelling tummies, letting them feel the full weight of the giant melon growing inside them. When the melons are ripe and its time to give birth, they have to fight gravity and push the melons upwards to get them out.

Their bodies are positioned in a way where their huge bellies press up towards their chest and the vine connecting them pulls their back end higher, making it near impossible to push out such a heavy object. They thrash and scream for the farmer to cut them down, bellies swaying back and forth as they push uselessly against gravity, but without the farmers help, none of them can make any progress.

They're at the complete mercy of their farmer, waiting for hours as they labor in hopes he will decide their bellies are ripe enough to pick. Eventually each one is harvested, cut from the arch and left on the ground to writhe and scream and push the huge 15 pound fruit out of their straining tummy.

Think about how your first reaction to his cock invading your asshole is to tense up, tighten your hole even more, cry and beg him to stop, "no please it hurts." Your crying about your pain just makes his cock harder, grow bigger inside the hole he already barely fits inside, makes him want to fuck you harder and deeper in spite of your pain. This is a natural example of why his pleasure comes before yours.

Because you can't help but cry and beg for mercy, and he can't help spreading your ass open as much as he can and pushing his cock deeper inside. Both of you are just doing what you're naturally programmed to do. He fucks, you get fucked.

In spite of the pain coming from your now stretched and pounded asshole, your empty pussy is literally dripping with need. To you, it's begging for him to fuck it instead of your ass but to him, it's confirmation that you love how he's changing your new fuckhole forever. He can choose to give you some of his pleasure, play with your swollen clit to help you relax and find the joy in being an anal slut. But this is his choice, and this is a natural example of why his pleasure comes before yours.

Your belly would be too big for you to get them off. I'd force you to waddle around next to me at the mall, belly squeezing desperately, the head barely able to come from your canal but everyone can see the bulge ever so slightly against the too tight garments

Oh fuck that’d be amazing 🤤

Getting my pregnant, swollen cunt worked over and over again, probably throwing me into labor with a massive splash as I cum for the last time (that you make me at least) and my water breaks. You take it as a perfect moment to have me slip on the tight clothes in between the slowly growing contractions, the fabric clinging so tightly to my crotch, even more so with how much fluid coated my legs.

Even the drive there is intense, fighting the urge to start to bear down as my cervix ripens while I’m trapped behind the seatbelt. You just rest your hand on my belly knowingly, feeling the contractions with me. Knowing it’ll only get harder from here.

When we’re walking (or while you’re walking and I’m waddling so slowly and painfully, fighting the urge to push) around the mall I can feel the swollen lips of my pussy drag over my panties and jeans ever so slightly as the tear drop shape that they make grows bigger and bigger against the wet fabric. I’m fighting everything to not squat down right there and push, knowing it’ll do nothing, but the pressure from all three of your babies wanting out of my overdue womb is making it so hard.

Weeks later, one night, you go to sleep, you stomach cramping particular hard tonight, but you had long lost hope it could be actual contractions… And you wake up violently to a harsh, familiar tightening all across your tummy, as it misshapens in bursts that sink and stretch the skin in ways you never had seen before, but throw you into a world of agony completely unlike your first failed birth. You try to push, but you realize something heavy and monstrous is rolling inside you.

Something that is hatching, having been incubated in the warm refuge of your worm all this weeks, as if it had been laid, and isn’t all that pleased about its new, small home.

You are realizing too late. Even the signs of labor your ignored- but there is no time now, as your womb tightens and demands you to push, and you grit your teeth, sinking your hands into your aching belly and do just that. Squeezed by your overtaxed womb, the creature is guided downwards, and as it realizes finally where its path to freedom lies, its shoves its head into your pelvis with such force you feel your bones creak, and birthing fluids soak your sheets. Strangely, you don’t feel its shell, perhaps its soft, but you have no time to worry about that right now.

Another contraction envelopes you, and combined with the creature’s efforts, it begins to breach your birth canal, your pelvis creaking ominously. You scream, sweating, toes curling with effort, but you refuse to stop pushing until your body lets go off you. The babe squirms impatiently, what you guess is its tail, thick and heavy, slapping your lungs, cutting off your breath, but as another contraction takes over, you push just as hard as before, if not harder.