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“Hey, pres, you all right?” Jason asked, coming to sit next to Max. 

Max grunted, forcing a smile for the man who was rather popular with the other people at their very small church owned college they both attended, and also the father of the child that was currently trying to expel itself from Max’s womb. They’d had a secret encounter in Jason’s dorm room after a particularly intense study session—and well, they hadn’t repeated said occurrences since then, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be friendly. “Fine,” Max managed as the contraction that had been wrapping its way around his belly finally eased off. “Just worried about this exam.”

Specifically, he was worried about passing the final exam of his health class while also managing to keep the kid in him, you know, in him. Particularly since his water had broken last night, and he hadn’t gotten a whole bunch of sleep between the increasingly intense contractions. This was his last final of the semester, though, he just had to pass this test, or at least make it through it, and he was home free. So he’d hobbled his way to class from his dorms. It wouldn’t do for the student president to just not show up to an exam.

“You’re the smart one,” Jason said with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. Only it doesn’t look like you slept at all.”

“Stayed up all night studying.”

“For health?” Jason asked. “Look man, I know you’re a perfectionist and all that, but no one cares what grade you get in this class. All you gotta do is pass. It’s not worth killing yourself over.”

Max tried to formulate a nonchalant shrug. “Gotta keep that scholarshi—mmmhg.” Another contraction cut him off. He wrapped his fingers around the bottom of the desk and forced all his pain and the screaming desire to push into them instead of downward. Still the contractions were getting insistent. The force of his body pressed the baby’s head against his lips, which began to spread and sting. As soon as the contraction ended, the head slipped back inside, the stinging easing. Still, that wasn’t a good sign. The two hour exam hadn’t even started and the baby was already sitting right behind his lips. 

Jason stared. “Man, you sure you’re good?”

“I’ll survive,” Max said, trying to sound sardonic, though his breathlessness gave him away. Jason didn’t know Max was pregnant. No one did. He’d carried small, and Max was good at hiding his body in shapewear and too big hoodies. If anyone did find out, he’d definitely lose his scholarship, and probably get kicked right out of the school. It had very strict rules about sex outside of marriage, and babies don’t just happen.

Max was saved from further questions from Jason by the professor entering the room and beginning to pass out a massive pile of paper that was the final exam. “You will have one and half hours to do the question and answer portion of the exam,” the professor explained. “Then I will show a video of a live birth. As the university wants you to know how to give birth at home, with prayer and without medical intervention as God intended. You all must know how to give birth. After watching the birth video, you will be required to write a paper discussing what they did correctly and what they could have done better. Understood?”

The class nodded.

“All right then, you may begin. You have an hour and a half.”

Max reached out for the packet, grabbing his pencil and his scantron, eager to go as quickly as possible and get this over with. Two questions in, and his stomach was seizing again. Freed from Jason’s questioning gaze, Max wrapped his hand around his stomach to try and soothe it, feeling it shrink underneath the shapewear he wore. He tried not to push, focusing on breathing deeply and slowly through the pain, but the searing stretch of his nethers continued throughout the contraction nonetheless. 

According to his studies, contractions lasted about 60-90 seconds, so Max counted out the seconds in his head, one hand wrapped tight around his stomach, the other clutching his fragile wooden pencil dangerously tightly.

As soon as the contraction began to ease and the stinging stopped as the baby returned to its place just outside his lips, Max continued with the test. His contractions were coming every two minutes, lasting about a minute. Which means while the rest of his class had an hour and a half to complete the test, he only had an hour. 

The words swum in front of him and he leaned forward to get a better view of the words, curling around his stomach and triggering another contraction. Sitting forward as he was, the hard plastic chair pressed against his lips. Which gave him an idea. Experimentally, he pushed with the urge instead of trying to hold back, grunting softly as he did. The head spread him open, shooting through his stretching lips, and then stopped moving as it struck the chair. Max whined, softly, tapping out of the push early. Except this time, the head didn’t go all the way back in, it stayed at that partial crown, stretching his lips. 

Stealthily, he reached down under his desk and explored the area between his spread legs. A massive bulge of straining jeans was wedged between them, pressed up against the chair.

Max let out a shuddering breath. All right, he thought, as long as I can stay sitting down, we can keep the baby in. And thus the test stretched on, in increments of three minutes, two of answering questions, one of pushing fruitlessly into the hard plastic chair, his wet jeans bagging out with the emerging head. 

Some of the questions were about health, but a lot were about sexual health and reproduction. Labeling the different parts of the birther’s anatomy felt particularly ironic when Max could feel the stretch of so many of them, the diagram a visual reminder of how small everything had been before a baby had been shoved through it.

Another question asked which sex position was most likely to result in successful reproduction, which had him flashback to his room, with Jason leaning over him, his warm chest on Max’s. It brought a blush to his cheeks which led Max to lift his head and glance over at Jason.

Jason had been looking back, his brows wrinkled in concern, but when he caught Max looking, the face changed to a forced smile and a hidden lewd hand symbol. Maybe the test was bringing up memories for him too.

Their moment was broken by another contraction. Max forced his head down, as though he was working on his test, leaning as far forward as he could, his stomach pressing against the bottom of the desk, his crotch against the seat to keep the baby in as his whole body pushed down.

The pain was just letting up when the teacher called for their attention, and put on the birthing video. A woman moaning, crouching, her husband supporting her from behind, praying. Her stomach visibly contracted as Max’s own pain returned. Their contractions had synced up, but while she was naked and pushing freely, he was covered in clothes, unable to push or make progress. Her grunts of effort and cries of pain masked his own moans.

The voice of the camera-person ordered the woman, “Push! Push!”

And having sat at a partial crown for an hour and half, Max couldn’t help but obey, pushing in sync with the woman on screen. He leaned back instinctively, lost in the grasp of instinct. He and the woman pushed, and pushed. The babys’ heads emerged slowly, fighting to stretch out the body and, in Max’s case, force the jeans out of the way.

The woman screamed as her head reached a full crown, losing her crouch and falling backwards, caught by her husband. Max’s own softer exhalation, as his own crown, freed from the confines of the chair, reached its own crown.

The next few pushes were unfruitful. The baby’s head bobbed in the woman’s crotch as Max’s own baby fought against his tight jean crotch and lost. He wasn’t trying to hold back anymore, wasn’t thinking consciously, only knew he needed to push.

Then the head on screen gushed out, followed by the rest of the body in rapid succession, but Max’s was still stuck, no matter how he pushed and grunted. The screen went black. 

“You have twenty minutes to write your essays.”

Max panted, realizing his situation. His hand explored downward, gasping at how large the bulge was, his legs spread apart, his lips screaming in pain, stretched to their fullest, his whole body soaked in sweat.

He could not write, could not focus on writing, but he had to. So, ever so slowly he leaned forward. The head of the baby caught on the chair, then began to be shoved up inside him once more. Max shoved his pencil in his mouth, biting down hard to hold back the scream that threatened to bubble in his throat at the pure agony. 

Another, harsher contraction came, but he weathered it, biting his pencil and pressing himself down against the chair. It faded, and he tried to write. The next contraction was just as bad. His weakened pencil snapped his hand. He whimpered as the head began to emerge once more, stretching him little by little. 

It didn’t seem like he had two minutes of leeway anymore, no matter what their professor had taught. The contractions didn’t seem to end. It hurt so much. He was so sweaty, so confined. The baby was coming out again. He didn’t have the energy to push it against the chair. It was stretching his lips, so wide.

“Time!” The professor called. “Pencils down.”

Max’s pencil was in pieces before him, his essay a mess, his multiple choice portion, not quite complete. But he didn’t care. He had to give birth. He had to get out of there.

The old professor toddled around, collecting tests as Max tried to look normal after having been in active labor for fourteen hours and actively crowning for two. 

He’d had a plan, take the test, go home, give birth in his empty apartment. But as the baby reached a full crown once more, Max knew that wasn’t happening. He would at least make it to the bathroom. It was on the first floor. Max planned his route as the professor said his final goodbyes, and then, finally, finally, fifteen minutes after the test ended, released them. 

Max stayed where he was, unsure how to stand as the rest of the students burst out of the room. Another student stayed and talked to Jason, pulling his attention away from Max.

Now, Max thought. He awkwardly turned in his seat, and removed his hoodie. It revealed his very low belly, curved and sweat-soaked, but he used it to tie around his waist, hiding the massive bulge in his crotch. Then, oh so gently, he leveraged himself to his feet.

Gravity shifted, his jeans loosened a bit, and the baby dropped down just a bit further, the head stretching him wider than he thought possible. Max gasped and swayed, catching himself on his desk. Jason glanced over, clearly concerned, but his conversation partners drew him back in.

Free. Max began to waddle, slowly, awkwardly, out of the classroom. Each step was agony, his jeans jostling the fully crowned head in his pants in and out just a smidge. His exhausted legs trembled, and he kept one hand on the wall to keep himself upright. The stairs were right next to the classroom, the elevator was on the other side of the building. He could either walk the entirety twice (to reach the elevator and then walk all the way back to the bathroom at the base of the stairs), or go down the stairs. He chose the stairs.

He went down two before he realized it was an awful idea. He clung to the railing, his legs forcefully spread around the head, which brushed his thighs each time he maneuvered himself awkwardly down the stairs like a new-born deer.

Finally, red faced, panting, exhausted, he reached the bottom of the stairs and practically fell into the door of the men’s bathroom. A guy at the urinal gave him a look.

“Really gotta. . . go,”  Max panted, then stumbled into the stall and locked the door. He reached immediately for his jeans. His shaking hands fumbled with the belt. As the contraction struck, he crouched naturally, spreading his legs wider, but that only forced the jeans up tighter against his opening, forcing the head further in. 

Finally, the belt gave way, and he began forcing the jeans down. They got caught on his hips. He needed to move his legs together, but another contraction hit, and the baby descended further, its nose stretching him and popping out. The head was touching his thighs. He couldn’t spread his legs further to give it more room with his jeans, he couldn’t get rid of the jeans because of the head.

He was stuck.

Mind frozen with fear and exhaustion, he weathered out several contractions, pushing as hard as he could. But the baby didn’t move. It was stuck. The jeans had to go, but that meant. . . 

He heard speaking over the roar of his ears, but couldn’t make out the words. It was definitely Jason.

But Max could spare him no thought. The baby had to come out. Quivering, Max placed his hand on his baby’s head, feeling its wet hair. He took one deep breath, trying to get oxygen in his panic, then began to push the baby up and back it. 

It was agony. He screamed in pain. The baby kicked in protest. His stomach contracted. In the chaos, he lost his balance, falling to his knees, striking his elbow on the side of the tiny stall. 

Jason was pounding on the stall door. 

Max couldn’t talk to him, couldn’t do anything but give birth. He shucked off his jeans and boxers, spread his legs, and pushed.

The much denied baby shot out, to its ears and Max cried out again. The contraction faded, and he could hear Jason now, asking if Max was okay.

“I’ve cleared the bathroom and put a sign out saying its closed. Tell me what's going on, or I’ll call 911.”

Well, Max would need help getting out of here. And it was just as much Jason’s secret as it was his. With a shaking hand, he reached up and undid the latch, just in time for the next contraction to hit. He pushed, and the baby’s head shot out of him just as Jason flung open the door.

“Holy crap!”

Max gasped, leaning against the toilet, spreading his legs just a bit further. The dirty bathroom tile was cold. It felt good. The baby was turning inside him.

“Is that mine?” Jason asked. That health class did something for him after all.

Max could only nod. 

“Shit. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Max didn’t have the breath for explanations. “Wanted you safe,” he gasped. “If I was. . . if they did. . .”

Another contraction. He pushed, weakly. The head bobbed forward, but didn’t move. God, he was exhausted.

Jason knelt down beside Max, his health class training coming into play. “How long have you been in labor?”

“Water broke—nngghh—last night.” The head still didn’t move. He was so tired.

“Last night!”

“Head crowned. . . just. . . just before the—” Another contraction. Max pushed with the pain as hard as he could, but the head wasn’t moving.

“Shit, man.”

Another contraction. No progress. Something was catching on his narrow hips. His body wasn’t made for birthing the way a woman’s was. “I think, I think it’s stuck.”

“I got you, give me a moment.” Then Jason left, leaving Max alone, spread wide and bare, a baby head between his legs, on a dirty bathroom floor. He flopped his head back, resting it on the toilet seat. Gross, yeah, but he didn’t have the energy to care any more.

Another fruitless contraction.

Then Jason was back. He crouched down by Max. “this is going to hurt,” he warned. Then he shoved his hand into Max’s crotch alongside the baby’s neck. Max opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. He was too tired. The pain was awful, the stretch terrible. Then Jason was fumbling around in there with his whole-ass hand, pulling and tugging. Max’s hips strained. 

Another contraction began, tensing Max’s stomach which was peeking up through his shirt, which had ridden up. 

With the hand that wasn’t currently inside Max, Jason pressed down on Max’s stomach. “Push!” he ordered.

Max pushed. Jason pushed with one hand and pulled with the other. The tension, the pressure built, and built. Max was being torn apart. He was going to die. He was—

Something gave. With a gush, the crying baby shot out into Jason’s waiting hands.

The three of them sat, panting, staring at each other. “I want to raise this baby with you, if you’ll let me,” said Jason. “Only reason I haven’t been with you more is, well, I didn’t want to get us both kicked out. But I think you’re amazing and—”

Taylor always enjoyed being pounded. The more people, the happier he gets, since he would always walk home with a belly filled with cum. After walking for quite some time because the buses were not operational at this hour, he needed to take a piss. He found a small alleyway that had a turn where no one could see him after that turn, perfect for taking a piss. As he walked, he noticed a man staring at him and following him. This was normal for him, and he went from scared to actually wanting to get randomly fucked by a stranger. He walked around the turn and pulled his pants down, releasing the excess cum from his ass while pissing. Before he knew it, he felt a sudden pressure on his ass. It was the man's erect dick, ready to fuck.

"Looks like someone's impatient huh?" Taylor asked while giggling in a flirty tone, "how can I possibly be patient when someone like you walks by" the man says as he caresses Taylor's dick. "That belly of yours is filled with cum, playing pretend pregnant?" He asks as he prepares to slide his dick into Taylor's tight well hole. "Well it's just a dream, I just wish it come true, I'll do whatever it takes and won't regret it at all," Taylor replied bending over and positioning his ass to be fucked. "I could help you with that but you need to do as I say in order for it to work, would you like to try?" the man asks while slowly teasing his dick around Taylor's hole. Seeing as he's tried it over and over, Taylor saw this as just another hoax so he just accepted it thinking it would mean that he would be pounded harder and filled with more cum.

"Alright, let's do it then, fill me up and impregnate me" Taylor says to the man in a flirting tone. The sound of a pill bottle was heard, thinking it was maybe some form of drugs to last longer, Taylor didn't care but that was his mistake. "Don't say I didn't warn you" the man says before slamming his huge dick up his tight wet hole. "Ahhh... Yes.. Harder... HARDER AHHHH" Taylor moaned uncontrollably. "FFFUUUCKKK.... AHHH... AHHH... AHHHH... YESSS DADDY FUCK ME HARDER.... POUND ME... BREED MEEE AHHHHH" Taylor moaned again louder as he felt the man's dick ravaging his tight hole. "I'm... Gonna... Cummm" the man groaned, "DO IT... FILL ME UP... IMPREGNATE ME LIKE YOU SAID.... AHHHH" Taylor moaned harder as he orgasms from the man's thick cum. Taylor panted and moaned as the man's cum slowly filled him up but something was different, the amount of cum is insane as once the man finishes, he looked 9 months pregnant.

As the man pulls his dick out, he instantly slams in a huge butt plug up his tight asshole. "AGHH.. WHAT THE HELL?!" Taylor yelled as he was unprepared which made it hurt. "Keep this in you, only take it out when you need to take a shit once done, re insert it and repeat for nine months, you'll have what you wish for", the man says as he walks away slowly. "Okay what th-" Taylor stopped because once he turned around the man was gone. He felt awfully nauseous but thought that it was because of that raw hard fuck and the amount of cum in his belly so he brushed it off, put his pants back on and continued his walk home.

The sun shined through his window, it was 12:00 in the afternoon, Taylor had just woken up. While stretching he was surprised to see that his belly still looked pregnant and no drip of cum came out of the butt plug. He stood up and looked in the mirror, it looked like his dreams came true, the perfect body shape, a pregnant figure just like he wished. Thinking that slowly over time the cum would either be absorbed or dripped out once he pulled the butt plug out, Taylor had the idea to be a mpreg creator. He pulled out his phone and started recording, his first video a pov virtual sex with him pretending to also be in hard labor.

This went on for months, his audience grew over night being an Internet sensation among the porn lovers. Taylor had what he ever wished for in a sense and he felt happiness beyond anything he had ever felt before, the fame and money was just a bonus to him. Entering the 12 months he had been filled, he was shocked as his belly looked like it was bigger than before. "Maybe it's just because of the cum", he thought to himself. "I'll just remove the butt plug and release the excess like usual" he says before removing the butt plug. "What the hell?" he exclaims in confusion, no cum was dripping from his ass. His belly went from sloshing around because of the cum to turning hard like a real pregnant belly in an instant. "Ow!" he yelled as a sharp pain emits from his stomach. "Man I don't have time for this, I'll sort it out later after the shoot" he says to himself while taking off his entire clothes to get ready to shoot his next video.

A machine made by one of his fans essentially a fuck machine that would be strapped on to him on the highest setting. The tip of the machine was also the exciting part as it was a dildo the size of a horse cock. The machine had a tank filled with the collective cum of every viewer roughly around 1000ml worths of real cum. Taylor would use a cheerleading uniform and record his video as a milestone for reaching 5 million followers. "Ahh... That's it sl- Aghh" he moaned as the huge dildo went up his ass. "Alright let's do this" he powers it on and instantly had an orgasm. "AHHHH....AHHH....OHH MY GODDDDDD.... AHHHH YESSSSSS" the machine pounded him so hard it was like an nfl player pounding him but twice as hard with a horse cock sized dildo ramming him in his ass.

"AHHH YESSS AHHH FFFFFUCCC-AGHHH", he groaned in pain as he stopped the machine. "What th-agghhh" he groaned again clenching his belly as he felt something move down in his belly before releasing liquid from his penis. "Did... did I just cum?" he questions himself before a sharp pain forces him to drop to the floor slamming his belly in the process which increased the pain. "AGHHH.. WHAT'S GOING ON... AGHHH..." he squeals as he feels pressure coming from inside his urethra. "NO... WAIT... IT CAN-AGHHHH" He realizes what was going on, the man's words were true, he was pregnant all this time and was in full labor now.

"I... CAN'T... AGGHHH... THE...BABY... IS... TOO... FFFUUCKK AGGHH" he screams in agony as he feels the baby moving slowly through the birth canal. Just as he thought it couldn't get worse, when he fell the machine broke and caused an error which turned on the machine again pounding him hardly while he's giving birh. "AHHH.... AGGGHHH....NOOOO.. AGHHH... AHHHH.. STTOOOPPPP...AGHHHH" he screamed in the mix of agony and pleasure as the motion from the machine caused the baby to mover faster down his tight urethra. He feels it, the baby nearing the stem of his dick which meant that it would be more painful from now on. "AGGGGHHHHH... GET OUTTTT.... AHHHH... AHHH... AGGHHGGHH... FFFFUUUCKCKKKKKK" he pushed as hard as he could while still being pounded by the machine, cum flying everywhere in the process. Just as the baby's head reached the end of his dick, it was stuck, no matter how hard he pushed it would exit the tip of his dick. He knew that any form of liquid would be useful in lubricating his tip but he couldn't move from the pain to reach the oil on the shelf and he had already dried his balls out from all the cum he was releasing