puppy so full,,

His breath hisses sharply though his teeth and his belly tenses even harder as he does just that, abs struggling to maintain any grip after being stretched so thin by two huge pregnancies.

But, finally, the most beautiful moment comes. The unrelenting pressurized ache between his legs tightens into a burn, and the crotch of his jeans rounds subtly as the head drops through his cervix and fills his pussy completely. He squirms and grits his teeth, panting.

“Fuuuck, baby, it burns, it already burns.” Trembling beneath the weight of his rock-hard belly, he manages to scoot back and spread his legs even wider. “My pussy’s so full! It barely fits! Aaaauuuuugh-!” His head falls back, body lurching and belly rocking as he puts his whole spine into a push. He keeps stretching, a growing swell where his thighs meet, a sting worsening every second as the poor lips of his cunt grind between the descending head and the shrinkwrap jeans.

Then the progress stops. He keeps pushing, even between contractions, indulging in loud, effort-filled moans, but the oppressive weight of the head remains closed behind his stretched labia.

“I can’t get it out!” His head rolls back, chest heaving in overwhelm. “It won’t come out no matter how hard I push!”

Finally, he’s getting closer to the place he’s imagined being, the place he’s been dreaming of returning to for 11 months. Laboring fiercely, he struggles to lift himself up, and must sit with his legs splayed and his contracting pussy forward before he manages to stand. With the slow, rocking gait of a man with a head splitting his hips, he staggers towards the camera and turns it.

For a moment, the shot is vague and unfocused, just a brown smudge with the agonized sounds of labor in the background. Then his groaning fades, and the image rattles around before actualizing into a dresser. He practically falls into the frame, his hands slapping the surface of the dresser as his belly hangs with incredible weight beneath him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbles, and begins to circle his hips in wide, deliberate motions. “Mmhg… your baby’s so big… can you see? Can you see it coming out?”

Later, he’ll be pleased to find that he managed to catch his body in complete profile, including the lump jutting from the back of his jeans.

Now, he lifts a trembling hand from the dresser top and stretches to cup the tender curve of his bulging perineum. His jaw falls open as he traces two delicate fingers down the seam of his jeans, pressing it ever-so-slightly between his pussy lips.

This causes the tiniest bit of tension on his stretched t-clit, and he yelps like a puppy, feebly bucking his hips. “Augh!” He hangs his head, and the light catches tears welling between his lashes. “Ohhhh my god,” he groans, “it’s too… it’s too…!”

Suddenly his eyes fly open, and a helpless squeak ekes from his throat, only for him to spread his lips in a silent wail as he cums. The tense and pulse of his orgasm triggers something in him, and he slams his hand down and starts pushing frantically, bucking his full pussy backwards like he can just wrench it out.

“It’s too much!” he screams. “I need- I need—!”

With trembling hands, he tries to unbutton the jeans. Tight as they are, he struggles, whimpering desperately every time he must stop to push.

“Ohh, pleasepleaseple—“ The moment he drags his jeans down his thighs, the glistening, dark red dome between his legs swells even further, and finally splits open. He shrieks, cumming again at the first hint of the head peeking out, and the orgasm makes the little slip of dark hair bob, easing further out and sinking back in with each urgent clench of his shiny, cumming pussy.

He wails, agonized, even as two of his fingers fly to jam against his tightening clit.

When it finally passes, he sags for a moment, the heavy shape of his belly tightening and relaxing as he gasps for air. “Ooooh, it’s right there,” he mumbles. “Fuuuuuck. Fuck it’s so good. It’s so— mnnnn…” He winces even as a pleased shiver unfurls across his limbs.

Shakily, he shoves the jeans further down his legs, revealing that he still has one last piece of clothing: a skintight pair of transparent vinyl briefs. Every inch of his birthing hole is visible, reflected light clinging to the dips and curves of his body.

Glancing at the camera, he manages a sweaty, self-satisfied smirk. “You like this? I wanted you to see just how big your baby stretches me.”

Saying so, he turns, still bent at the waist, so that the camera gets his plastic-coated cunt in perfect detail. Then, groaning, he pushes, and the material tightens as the slit between his raw lips begins to round towards his asshole. For a moment, it’s the resistance of his own slowly-opening body that prevents the head from coming out, but as he pushes and pushes, the vinyl stretches less and less, until finally—

“Ah- ah-! It won’t move!”

Wrapped as delicately as a present, his crowning cunt trembles and his asshole throbs on the end of a desperate push. “Ohh GOD!” he wails, hanging his head. “My clit! Fuck, my clit, my clit—“

The sweet little thing barely makes a bump against the plastic, the purple head eye-catching amid all the stretched-pale flesh. Between the skull of the crowning child and the uncaring chafe of the vinyl, his t-clit is pressed thin as a flower between pages, and he starts to heave sobs of overstimulation. His toes curl, and he shakes his head, drool beginning to gather over his lip with wet mumblings.

“I can’t! Get it out! Get it out, get it OUT!!”

Instinctively, he drops into a deep squat, and screams as the tremendous weight of his pregnant mass tries to thrust the head from his pussy. Still, the vinyl cradles it, and it remains at a perfect crown between his quivering lips. He shrieks and bounces restlessly on his heels, hands fluttering down feverishly between his legs to feel the bowling-ball weight now hanging beneath him.

His begging to get it out loops into incomprehensible babble as he pushes and pushes. “It’s too big, your baby’s too big for my pussy!” he moans. “My clit’s gonna tear! I can’t anymore!”

Yet he does, never removing the briefs, because he has a plan: he’s not going to take them off. Not until he gives birth.

When his thighs begin to shake, he slumps forward and ends up on his side, clutching his belly in one hand and the back of his knee in the other, prying himself wide. He lays on his side, heaving like livestock, and groans helplessly as he pushes without end. Birthing fluid gathers in the vinyl briefs and drips down his legs, the drops released with each push accumulating over the seemingly unending effort.

Eventually, when he can’t force the head out that way, he clambers onto his hands and knees and crawls, his entire body shaking, back to the bed. He reaches into a box sitting on the floor and produces a powerful massage wand. Then, sinking down on one elbow, he presents his crowning cunt to the camera and pushes the powerfully vibrating wand between his upper thighs, wedging it to the splayed-wide nub that used to be his t-clit.

At first he screams, but his voice gives quickly, and he lays there with his cheek pressed to the floor and his ass up, contracting and cumming in helpless perpetuity. Occasionally, soft whimpers of, “Need it out, lemme push it out, lemme birth it…” are caught by the microphone.

Three and a half hours after he first crowns, he finally finds the strength to make that final push. With an ugly, heaving grunt, the vinyl fills with the huge head of his baby. He takes his time peeling off the briefs, and lifts himself upright, shuffling his knees under himself and facing the camera again. Kneeling there, he holds the wand directly on his aching purple clit, and births the massive shoulders with a single push and the whimper of a ruined orgasm.

This is the first video file his stud receives, labeled 13lbs.mov.

But there is also a second.

This one began recording at 2 AM, in the moody light of a bedside table lamp. In it, sweat renders the breeder’s heaving body in a thin glitter, and his belly still looks huge in the half-dark, especially as it draws tight with a contraction.

“The- the afterbirth was taking forever,” he says in a scratchy voice, absent of the sultry pageantry of the first video. “Now- ooooh, hah, fuck.” He pants, instinctively lifting a foot onto the bed to open his hips. “Hah, hah, I need to push, I gotta push agai—!” His face scrunches up, and slowly reddens as he struggles with all his might.

After, it takes him several gasping moments to speak again. His chest jumps with shallow breaths, words thin.

“There’s another head. A second head. Fuck, holy fuck.” He laughs almost deliriously. The lamplight catches his raw pussy squeezing gently in anticipation. “I’m having another one. A twin. Fuck, you put twins in me!” He reaches down and gives an indulgent rub to his incredibly swollen clit before shoving his fingers up his cunt.

Then he jolts, and his eyes fly wide. “Oh, god, I feel it! The head! It’s right there, it’s coming so fast, what the— ohhhhh—”

His belly locks into a tight, twisted shape, and he releases only a faint wheeze, like the wind has been knocked out of him, as he pushes with it. The plastic covering the bed crinkles in his fists.

Unlike its slow, impeded stretch before, his heavily-used pussy unfurls suddenly around the budding head. He yelps in shock. Then both of his hands fly to it, and he moans as the rest of his push is absorbed into the counter-force of his palms and the head moves no further.

“Stop!” he screams. “It’s too big! I can’t, I can’t, I…”

Delicately, a tendon leaping in his neck as he pants for breath, he starts to push the crown back inside. “Fuck!” His head drops backwards, and he shakes it at the ceiling as if defying himself. “Fuck, fuck, it’s going back in! It doesn’t fit, it’s too much, fuck! My- ah! My fucking cervix, fuck, hnnnn-“

Voice breaking, he whimpers desperately even as he slowly closes his legs around his wrist, hand still covering his puffy pussy. “M’so full. Fuuuuck. Fuck, I can’t believe I get to do this again, pussy’s made for struggling on big babies, fuuuuck…”

His wrist writhes into the meeting of his thighs, hips rolling forward as he humps the heel of his hand. “Ohhh I feel so heavy. So fucking.” Then a wince, teeth clenching, as his belly contracts. “M’not ready,” he mumbles, then groans loud enough to wake the dead as he pushes uselessly. His elbow jerks as he works his hand against his clit, and suddenly his hips leap from the bed and his eyes flutter as he cums, birthing fluid spraying between his fingers.

“Shit!” His next gasp rattles, voice fraying again with his volume. “Need this, need this, need this so bad, need your huge fuckin’ twins stuck in my cunt every night—!”

He whips his hand away and opens his legs, and makes a frail bleating sound with the rhythm of his stretching pussy as the head lurches out in steady spasms. He lets it keep coming until it triggers a scream just before crowning, then shoves it up his greedy cunt again. His spine arches off the bed, a wounded, dying groan filling the room.

“Fuuuuuuuck, baby, it hurts, it hurts, it’s too much, it’s too much, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I—“

With only needy instinct guiding him, he denies himself the birth of the twin for hours, lost in a heady haze of pressure and pain and pleasure. His body fights to push it out, writhing on the sheets, and he forces it back inside, his orgasmic groans indistinguishable from his moans of absolute agony.

Near dawn, he scrambles upright, legs wavering dangerously beneath him, and shudders with the force required to shove the head back in as gravity enters the picture.

“Need to- need it out,” he pants, eyes shiny and pleading. “Can’t do it anymore, my pussy, my poor fucking pussy hurts so bad, I need to birth it, I need to birth it, please let me—!”

His knees give, and when his hands lurch to his thighs to steady himself, the baby finally crowns. He shrieks, then starts to shake his head, wailing, “Too big! It’s too big!” His already-splayed knees wobble further apart, feet shifting on the floor, and his body squats almost without his permission, bulging the head forward.

With ragged, helpless breaths and a heaving belly, he reaches clumsily for the camera. Shadows fly around the room and his hands clack noisily on the plastic, then finally he’s filming his pussy straight-on.

“L-look at that head…”

It’s so big that it looks unreal, his trembling thighs flush against the ears and his lips so stretched they’ll clearly never be the same. It’s hard to even imagine how his pelvis got so wide. He gasps a sob distantly. “So big…!”

Slowly, slowly, it begins to come out. He makes a breathless grunting sound, then squeaks in pain as the fat cheeks begin to stretch his hole even further, and cups it again with his hand. By his full-body tremble, it’s clear there’s no pushing it back in now, but he holds it all the same, desperate to deny it just a little longer.

“Fuck, fuck… ahhhh- hah… hmmmmng, too full, too big, it burns, it burns so bad, I can’t…”

But he does. A contraction begins to ease the head forward again, and he yelps as it bursts out of him. To the camera, it looks nearly the size of a grown man’s head, though the warped perspective is mostly to blame.

A thin whimper, and he clenches his jaw into another push. After everything, it still takes all he has left to grunt the shoulders free of his pussy, flicking his clit all the while.

This second video file, he names 18lbs.mov.

With the two files, he includes the message: Meet in 4 weeks? I already miss being full ❤️

Changing her phone number was useless. She still got strange phone calls from different numbers that changed daily. Moving to the middle of the woods, miles away from prying eyes also didn't help, though she lived with the false security that nobody could see her.

Your new house is quite lovely, my dove. It's much quieter out here. Though, your boyfriend doesn't seem happy about it.

They had been fighting. Being relentlessly stalked for your entire pregnancy (and a good chunk of your relationship) could do that to a couple. The only thing that could be worse for a woman just a week away from her due date would be her boyfriend leaving a note on the bedside table and disappearing one morning.

I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry.

She (and her neighbor) would never consider that his body was being devoured by her neighbor's pigs on a farm several miles away. The clothes had already been burned and any remaining pieces had been carefully retrieved afterwards. It was remarkably easy to sell someone's identity online if you knew the right people, and Jay certainly did.

The missing person investigation couldn't start if the paper trail insisted there was no missing person.

Jay had been sneaking into her house for weeks, but it was much easier now that her boyfriend was out of the picture. Placing a signal jammer in her home was part one of the plan. Jamming a hole into two of her tires was part two. Now all he had to do was wait. He didn't want to alarm Autumn, so he didn't activate the signal jammer just yet.

No, he waited. He watched from afar, admiring her through the various cameras he had placed in the trees that surrounded her house.

Two days.

She was pacing the house. She had been that way for a few hours now, fidgety, anxious, unable to sit still. Autumn was restless and her cheeks were flushed as she leaned, resting her forearms on the island in her kitchen lowering her head. This caused her ass to push out towards the sliding glass doors, giving the camera a direct view as her water broke. Fluid stained her skirt, darkening the soft blue fabric in a large circle, causing Autumn to jolt.

Before she could reach for her phone, before she could even react, Jay turned on the signal jammer. It was time.

It meant he didn't get to watch her through the cameras. He wouldn't get to see her panic, the way she fumbled with her phone, or how she might fight with her router, or how she tried to figure out how to call for help.

As he drove closer to her property, he imagined her face, her cheeks flushed red and her eyes wide with fear and pain. She would be vulnerable. She would finally be his.

He parked in some heavy brush to hide his car, watching as she slowly tried to stumble to her car. Her movements were clumsy and heavy with discomfort as she tried to unlock the door. Her moans were soft and breathy, barely audible from where Jay was parked. Her hair was pulled up away from her face, little curls hanging free and untamed during her rush.

The car started, reversed, and started out of the driveway. Jay watched as she gasped and gripped the wheel, clearly sure she had time to make it to a hospital. He stayed a distance behind. He knew the route. He had plenty of time. She didn't.

The wheels gave out about twenty minutes in. Autumn pulled to the side of the road and got out, clearly distraught. She was clutching her heavy pregnant belly as she stumbled to the tires, trying to figure out what to do.

Jay hung behind and watched her desperately try to fix the issue for a while before he saw her pull out her phone.

Oh, no, that wouldn't work. He pulled up to her and got out of his car.

"Oh, miss, are you alright?" He bit back a smile.

"No, no, I'm not," she gasped, leaning against her car, "I'm---I'm in labor, and my car--it's just---" She gestured uselessly at the car. "I need to call someone, I think," she winced, gritting her teeth as she tried to find her words. She was ethereal up close.

"Sure, we can call a tow truck for the car, and an ambulance for you," he tried to sound helpful, but he knew damn well neither of these things would help. The closest tow truck or even roadside assistance usually took at least 2 to 3 hours in these part of town, and the ambulance? Well, he'd work around that.

"Please, my phone has been acting so weird..." She took in a sharp breath and pressed her hands into little fists, her nails leaving little half-moon shapes in her palms when she relaxed.

"Sure, Miss." He nodded, going to grab his phone, "Why don't you take a seat in my car, for now?"

She was too trusting for a girl who had been relentlessly stalked. Maybe she was just desperate.

Jay was not entirely a liar. He did call for a tow for her car. It would come...in 4 hours.

"Oh, unfortunately it seems the battery on my phone has died."

Autumn made a scared, desperate noise, her face going pale, "No, no--"

"I can take you where you were going, miss."

"Would you?" She moaned as the pain took her again. She was writhing in his passenger seat, her body perfect even in its worst pain. She trusted him too much.

"Of course."

She was in his car. She smelled like peaches and cream and when she moaned it sounded like what honey tasted like. Something about the way she writhed and hissed made Jay ache so much it made his teeth hurt. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white, his focus intense.

Autumn, mistaking his focus for anxiety, took a steadying breath between contractions, "It's okay," she gasped, "I won't give birth in your car."

Jay bit back a moan at the thought, "No worries, miss, I will get you to a proper doctor. Even if not, I am versed in baby rearing."

"You've done this before?" Her voice peaked as the pain started again.

He thought of the videos he'd watched, the articles he'd read, the prep he had done for all of this, then nodded curtly. "I have." He had gone through the scenario enough times in this head it counted as knowing it better than he knew himself.

"Ow! Ah, oh my god," she threw her head back and gripped the seat. "Fuck, it hurts," she hissed, trying to pull away from the pain. "It's--dropping---" her voice dropped too, a low moan of agony.

She was ready. Jay knew that if he took the shortcut he knew, she would make it to the hospital, where doctors and nurses would delivery her baby. But if he took the main route...

"Oh my god, it's---so low, I think---" Autumn was fidgeting in her seat, trying to pull the seatbelt off. Jay glanced at her, watching how she widened her legs as much as she could.

"Please, tell me we're close," she pleaded, tears streaming down her face.

The road was empty, as it usually was this time of day. Jay took a wrong turn that took them into the woods. This road would lead out into town, but it would add an extra thirty minutes to get to town and an extra hour before they made it to a hospital.

"Just hold on," he murmured, only partially focusing. He drove carefully. He had precious cargo on board, after all. The next twenty minutes was Autumn sobbing beside him, imploring him to take him to the hospital, to drive faster, to get her to the doctor...

She was pressing her legs tightly closed now, digging her nails hard into her thighs and bunching up her pretty blue skirt. Autumn was a wreck, her body trembling, her belly round and low, her face bright red. Tears streamed down her face as she leaned her head back, her neck exposed as she did so. She was so vulnerable. Jay fought the urge to lean and kiss the fair skin there.

"Oh--oh my god!" Autumn choked. The urge to push wasn't new. The need to bear down wasn't novel or something she hadn't grown to know. The intensity was something she hadn't known before. She didn't know her body could do it for her.

"Jay!" He had told her his name at some point. After all, you should know each other's names when driving someone to give birth. "Please, it's coming!"

Perfect. Jay didn't hesitate to cut the engine and pull to the side of the road. They were in the dead of the forest, nothing to accompany them but woodland animals and dirt. He jumped out of his truck and whipped around to pull Autumn's door open.

She was ethereal, a whimpering mess in his passenger seat trying to keep her legs shut. She was an angel, a perfect creature meant for him and only him. This would be his baby now. They would both be his.

"Alright, Autumn," he bit back the urge to call her, 'my dove,' as he knelt before her, gently coaxing her legs open. "It's time, we're going to do this here."

"I can't! Please, I want to go to a hospital! It isn't supposed to be like this!" She choked through her sobs, "I had a boyfriend, and we had a birth plan, and---" A contraction interrupted her. She screamed, a raw, guttural sound that went heavy and deep as she finally gave in and bore down.

"Oh fuck, oh my god," she breathed heavily afterwards, her eyes wide. Jay had never seen anything more perfect.

"Good girl, just like that," he couldn't believe he was here. All his work had led him here. Of course he was here. He had earned this. She would love him. He just had to show her.

"Where is your boyfriend?" He had to fight to keep the mocking tone out of his voice.

"He---he left, and I don't know wh-ahh!" She bore down again, harder this time. Jay reached and let her squeeze his hand. She held firm. It hurt, but not as much as the time it took to get her here. Not as much as knowing this baby wasn't biologically his.

"He doesn't deserve someone like you if he is going to leave you here, like this," Jay scolded. He had grown good at hiding his smiles. "Now, we need to take your underwear off for this."

"Please don't look," Autumn breathed.

"Miss, you're having a baby on the side of the road, there is no shame here," Jay scolded. Her panties were pink and stained from her water breaking earlier. When he removed them, he found that she wasn't crowning just yet, but probably would be soon.

"You're doing well, Autumn," he cooed. He was swift about tucking away her underwear in his pocket. She wouldn't miss them.

"I don't want to, I wanna go home--" She cried.

"Easy, just breathe," he purred, his hand resting on her thigh. She shook her head, her breath hitching as she tried to listen to his command.

"I--can't---it---hurts!"

"Yes, I know, I know," he soothed uselessly, the empathy lacking. She didn't seem to notice, because she was pushing again. The head was slowly starting to bulge and ---oh, her pussy was as perfect as she was. In all his time watching her, Jay hadn't been able to see her pussy up close. Fuck, he wanted to touch it, to play with it, to lick and---

Focus. Autumn was keening and screaming his name like he could save her from this searing agony. He pressed his hand to the bulge of her sex, "Breathe," he commanded as the contraction ended.

"I can't do this, I can't, it burns, it hurts--"

"It's happening, you're going to do it, there's no going back, Autumn---"

The next contraction was swift and ruthless. Autumn screamed and bore down. Jay pulled his hand back and watched as slowly, ever so slowly, the head started to stretch her open. It was an agonizing pace, one that had Autumn pleading with him to pull it out for the next twenty minutes.

Sure, he could have helped, but the process of watching this huge head slowly, meticulously stretch her tight pussy open without tearing was mesmorizing. When it came to a full crown, she shrieked, terror echoing through the forest.

"I don't want to, please, please, I don't want to give birth," she begged.

"You're going to give birth, now push, Autumn," Jay squeezed her thigh, hard, harder than he'd meant to. Autumn whimpered in fear and screamed as she pushed again. The head emerged, proof of the child that haunted Jay, the child that was the only proof of Autumn and her bastard boyfriend.

"Oh god, is it--"

"It's there, Autumn. Now give me another push." The shoulders were another debacle. Autumn's screams echoed through the forest for another twenty minutes until the shoulders finally started to give way.

"Fuck, I'm going to---I can't---" Autumn was exhausted, breathless and scared. "Please, pull it out, I can't do it."

"Push. One more push, Autumn."

"No, please."

"Now, you can do this." He was softer this time, looking in her eyes. Autumn nodded and gave him a push that was harder than any of the others, her teeth grinding hard as she pressed her chin against her chest and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

It was, indeed, a healthy baby girl. Autumn named her June, after the month she was born in. She would, in an attempt to thank the man who 'saved her' that night, ask Jay to go to dinner. Funnily enough, it was the end of her stalking problem.

The king wakes in agony at dawn. His belly cramps so tightly that he can do nothing but bend over it and groan. Assuming his illness must be consuming him, he remembers the physician informing him that there is no treatment or cure for the canker, and he resigns himself to his fate. His queen stays by his side as his body is wracked with fits of tension. She finds herself thinking that his agony reminds her of a laboring woman, especially the way the low-hanging bulge of his belly lifts and contracts with each wave of pain, but she fears such an observation would simply upset him, and keeps it to herself.

The king is lying on his side when the change comes. He groans, hair sticking to his sweat-drenched brow as he shakes his head against the soured sheets. He moans for the gods’ mercy, and instinctively lifts one leg, spreading his thighs wide. That’s when the queen sees how the flesh above his member, normally a relatively flat, triangular space, bulges as if around something hard and spherical. She stares as he thrashes and groans, watching as the tendons below his belly tighten and the shape sinks a little lower.

She figures it out, then. She stares at him, her jaw slowly loosening as she realizes what she’s witnessing. The heaving belly, contracting around a babe. And the head… the head descending towards his member.

She tells him she needs to get help, and he begs her to stay, but she leaves anyway. Terrified and in agony, the king feels something shifting deep within him, and is sure he must be dying. When the door bursts open and several people enter, he barely notices, eyes blurry with exhaustion and tears.

The physician and the midwife stare at the laboring man, stunned, but it’s the midwife who leaps into action first. She ducks between the king’s legs and begins to gently palpate around his bulging crotch, holding his thighs open when he screams and tries to close them. He demands to know the meaning of this, and she tells him. He’s giving birth. He tries to laugh at her, but a contraction steals his breath. His hands knot into the sheets and he groans long and low, while the midwife, physician, and queen all watch his crotch grow heavier and heavier with the head, until the base of his flushed cock begins to stretch with it. He hisses in pain, totally unaware of what’s coming.

He screams with the next contraction, eyes flashing wide with shocked terror as the base of his cock stretches a little more, trying to widen enough to accept the head. No, he begs. Not there. Please not there! The queen can do nothing but cradle his head in her lap. The midwife rubs his hip and tells him how well he’s doing. The physician, pale-faced, sits at the king’s desk taking notes and wondering if anyone will believe him.

Oh god, no, the king sobs as he feels another contraction coming. He cries for someone to stop it, but nothing can be done as his body squeezes, and the crown of the head peeks into the base of his cock. The king begins to thrash, and the midwife has to call the physician for help to hold down his legs. It gives both of them a prime view as, over the course of several contractions, the base of the king’s penis slowly wraps around the babe’s skull.

For many hours, he labors. The king screams for help, for mercy, for his mother, for death, as the hint of head inside his cock slowly eases forward. Finally it crowns into him, his base rendered nearly translucent around the widest part of the head, skin stretched pale and veins bulging blue with the tension. His chest rattles with tearful wheezing, his hands cramping from gripping the sheets.

The next milestone comes with a thrash of his whole body and a wail of, simply, Fuck! as the head pops into his shaft. His tip is beginning to stretch, now, an angry, weeping red, slit pulling open. He rests, then, such as a man can with a baby’s head deforming his cock, eyelids fluttering shut and chest heaving as he pants for breath. The queen dabs his forehead with a wet cloth and tells him how brave he is.

The midwife begins to gently stretch his hole, and he whimpers, but lets her, knowing she’s preparing him for—

Oh, nooooo, no, no, it won’t fit, it won’t fit! he sobs, but his cockhead splays all the same, pulled nearly flat as it comes flush to the crown. His crotch bulges again, too, as the shoulders push at it. Make it stop, just cut me open and take it out, I order you! Do it! he screams, but his three helpers exchange looks grimly, knowing that the flesh of his birthing member is much too thin to be cut without hurting the child, nevermind the risk of the king bleeding out. He must endure.

A litany of No, no, no no nonono no nooo noooooo! fills the room as his body pushes the child forward. The slight splay of his slit opens eye-like over slimy hair, his spongy cockhead reduced to something like a heart shape as it hugs the emerging head. His crotch stretches sharply, then the head eases back, his slit closing a little. He whimpers with relief.

But the midwife begins to rub around his base, trying to stretch him. She tells him he needs to push with the next contraction, or the child will never come out. He weeps bitterly.

Yet, he pushes. A high, wobbling agony gargles in his throat as he clenches his teeth and heaves air through the cracks. Veins stand out in his forehead and his shaft. His cockhead flares to the point it had reached before, and then a little further, a little less than a thumb’s length of the baby’s head visible through the slit. The shoulders don’t enter his cock, yet, but the base stays wide, ready to accept them when he does push them through.

He begs the midwife not to touch, sobs that it hurts, but she assures him gently that she’s keeping him from tearing, and keeps running her fingertip around the reddened edges of his birthing slit.

His belly lifts and tenses, and voices encourage him to push from every side. He’s only able to bear down for an instant before he loses the air in his lungs to a shriek as his slit-lips open wider. He whips his head in delirious denial, barely conscious.

This is when the midwife leans forward and pushes on the top of his belly. His eyes snap open and he screams like a dying animal as a shoulder bursts into his cock and the head surges against his tip. The bruise-purple tissue of what used to be his cockhead is indistinguishable as any part of a penis, more like a cunt now, if anything. This new cock-cunt twitches and pulses around the broad teardrop of crown now visible.

With the next contraction, he does his own pushing, fearing the pain in his belly again. He pushes until his face goes red and his whole body trembles, cock lopsided with the single shoulder and cunt lips peeling slowly down the dome of the head, until finally—

“AAAAAAAUUUUUURRRRGHHHHHHHH!!!!!”

The king’s agony echoes off the walls, his back arching and chest heaving as what was once his cock crowns around his child’s head. It holds him perfectly round and open, leaving him wheezing for breath with a high, tortured whimper threaded into his voice. He tries to keep pushing, but the midwife tells him to wait. He screams that he can’t. It’s too big! It’s gonna rip his cock off! But his attempts to push are futile, the head simply bobbing slightly, and he must endure the torment of the crown.

The next contraction should bring relief. But when it comes, his pushes only bring an awful pressure at the base of his cock, the drag of the shoulder inside his shaft, and the stinging tickle of his birthing slit struggling to release the babe’s skull. It’s stuck.

It’s stuck! It’s stuck! he shrieks.

The midwife tells him to keep his head on, and makes him roll from his side to his back and pull his legs up by his knees. He does as he’s told, though his hands tremble so badly that the queen must pull his legs back, leaning over him until his belly juts out between his upturned thighs, and his knees nearly touch his shoulders. His cock sticks up at an angle, though it wilts at the end with the weight of the babe’s head until the midwife supports it.

When pushing in that position does nothing, she continues to support his cock as she forces him to get on his hands and knees. His limbs tremble. He buries his pain-paled face in the queen’s breast and pants while he waits for a contraction. His hot breath and loose saliva seep into her dress as he pushes, but he finds no relief.

The midwife doesn’t warn him before she starts to physically tug his birthing slit down. He screams and tries to kick her, but the physician holds his legs still and the queen wraps her arms around his head to quell him. Her gown muffles his shrieks as the tip of his penis is dragged over the widest part of the skull, and he goes limp and wheezing when the head finally bursts free of his birthing slit. The gaping mouth of his cock crumples loosely around the neck, until the midwife keeps pushing it back to expose the shoulder.

When her fingers worm past the shoulder and dip inside of him, he lurches and gags. His wife is quick enough to let him loose, and he vomits over the side of the bed at the sensation of a foreign hand digging into his cervix. It leaves him tear-streaked and dry heaving, but finally, the midwife frees the second shoulder. He can do nothing but gargle in reaction.

Finally, a contraction comes, and he pushes with all he has left, his whole body trembling and his eyes rolling back. He bleats out a delirious whimper as both shoulders stretch his birthing slit at once, but they linger for only a moment before the midwife pulls the heir to the throne from his quivering body. His former penis falls limp, nothing but a gaping birth canal leaking blood and fluid.

He knows, in that moment, that the gods answered him. The first time he beseeched them, they gave him a womb with a miracle babe within… only for him to curse them, not knowing he already carried their blessing. This was his punishment.

At least it’s over.

Noemi decided that the best way to handle this issue was head-on. If he was disgusted by her body, she could lose the weight, somehow. If he enjoyed it, she could enjoy her boyfriend's praise. That was surely why her anxiety was up, and why there was a tension in her lower back, right?

She worked hard to set it all up. There were scattered rose petals, candles, and a note on the door telling Mark to come inside. It had taken hours to prepare an array of desserts (including chocolate covered strawberries,) all the while her stomach and back cramped. She desperately hoped that she wouldn't get her period tonight. It had been so damn irregular these days...

Noemi had seen that other couples did things like tie themselves up. While she had never done anything so adventerous, she knew Mark would likely enjoy it. She thought about this as she fought her way into some lingerie, a lacy ensemble that complimented her skin tone, vaguely held her swollen tits, and...unfortunately presented her swollen belly.

She really needed to see a doctor, right? This weight gain couldn't be normal or healthy. Growing up in a cult had not done great things for her sexual or health education. It was a wonder she functioned like an average person at all after her escape.

Noemi shook the thought off as she positioned herself in the bed. Her stomach cramped and she winced. "Stop," she whined as she placed one wrist into a handcuff and locked it. The other was hard to lock in with one hand, but she managed it. The key for the handcuffs was on the side table next to her, meant to be used by Mark.

She stared at the clock on her wall.

5:30 P.M.

Mark was due to be there at 5:45 P.M. Noemi could wait.

5:35 P.M. An increasingly painful cramp hit her, causing Noemi to cry out and squirm, "Stop, stop, I'm supposed to have a romantic time, don't ruin this, period."

Her periods weren't usually this painful, but she couldn't come up with a better answer.

5:40 P.M.: More pain, Noemi squealed and squirmed, writhing on the bed. "At least it's regular, oh my god---"

5:45 P.M. A cramp that left her breathless and pulling on the restraints. Surely Mark would be here any minute.

5:55 P.M. The pain started to ramp up, with Noemi whining and gasping for air between each twinge and cramp. Mark was late, and she was starting to feel like something was wrong.

6:10 P.M. The pains were coming every three minutes now instead of every five. Noemi whimpered, tears welling up in her eyes. Where was he?! She glanced over to her side table, where her phone pulled up a preview of a text.

FROM: Mark <3

hey baby, sorry, I'm gonna be an hour or two late, my flight got delayed. be there ASAP, I love you

Shit. She was going to be stuck there unless she slipped out of those handcuffs somehow. Noemi gritted her teeth through another cramp and shook her head.

"No, no, please, please," she took in a sharp breath, "Something is wrong, I can't be stuck here..."

Three minutes later, there was fluid leaking between her legs. The cramping continued.

"Oh my god---" She tried to see over her belly, but she couldn't. "Did I just...?!" She glanced across from her at the large mirror she had set across from the bed. Clear fluid soaked her legs, panties, and the sheets.

"Damnit, my sheets, my good sheets---" She moaned, pain spreading through both her back and abdomen. It was ramping up, something urgent and strange. There was a heaviness building in her hips. A strange presence there was pressing against her cervix, demanding exit.

Noemi shook her head, unfamiliar with her own anatomy. "Oh fuck, oh my god, what is that?!" She choked, trying to wriggle her hips around in some pathetic attempt to stop the process.

Each pain felt like it was bringing her closer to something horrifying and agonizing. Her bodily instincts were strong but her mind was filled with terror. Noemi's face was wet with tears as she let out a scream. Maybe the neighbors would hear and call the cops, maybe---

They were out of town for the weekend. Noemi choked on her own sobs.

Something was low in her pelvis. It was big and insistent, something pressing down, down, down...

Noemi bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut. Whatever this was, it was nothing but pain and a pressure she had never known before. Her body instinctively wanted her to spread her legs, but fear made her press them shut.

6:45 P.M. Something was forcing its way out. Noemi let out a loud wail, sweat mussing her hair as she pulled hard on the restraints. Something was slowly, agonizingly pushing its way past her cervix. She wouldn't know the word for it, but it was happening.

All Noemi knew was pain and terror, much like many of her ancestors before her. At least they weren't handcuffed to a bed, screaming for help that woudn't come.

She sobbed between the pain that now came every two minutes, her legs shaking as she spread them. She would relent to the feeling, give in to the desire to push down, to press against...something.

"I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die here, oh my god..."

She pushed, and she was rewarded with more pressure, more pain---and the feeling of fullness in her pussy. "No, no, no! Oh my god, what is that---"

She couldn't think logically. Nobody had ever taught her about childbirth. Why would they? The cult didn't care to, and Mark had assumed she knew.

"Make it stop, make it stop---" Another push. An urge fulfilled, a scream piercing the quiet night. She had no direction, no support, nobody to check and see how far she had progressed.

She sobbed into the unforgiving night and pushed. Her body screamed for her to keep going while she screamed for it to be over. She was sure she was going to die. Surely there was no way she deserved this type of agony.

8:00 P.M. Something was bulging out of her.

Noemi wailed in terror, sure this was the end.

"Mark! Mark help me, please!" He was not here. There was nobody here but her, the pain, and the urges.

The large bulge pressed against her pussy lips. It burned, a fire Noemi had never known. She shrieked and pulled so hard at the restraints her wrists were raw.

"Please, stop, stop! I don't want to, I don't--" She didn't want any of this, but her body demanded she push. So she pushed, like the good girl she was. She pushed, like all her ancestors before her had. She pushed until she felt something emerge. Noemi opened her tear-stained eyes and looked at the mirror again.

Was that...a head? Was that a fucking head coming out of her?!

Was she giving birth?!

She was consumed by another pain as she heard the door open. Noemi sobbed as she bore down, feeling the baby start to twist and slowly emerge from her.

"Baby, I'm so sorry I'm late--"

The baby slid onto the bed and started to scream as Mark entered. Noemi looked up, her face bright red and streaked with tears and sweat.

"Mark!" She gasped.

"Noemi!" Mark rushed to her side, quickly finding the release on the handcuffs. "Noemi, what--what happened, I---"

Noemi whined, her hands shaking as she picked up the crying baby (a boy.) "I--I don't know, I didn't---"

Mark stared at her in awe, his eyes wide with admiration, confusion and...something else. Noemi cried, holding the baby to her chest.

"Is this how people have babies?!" She cried out.

Mark smiled gently, "Yes, my love. I--didn't know you were..."

"Neither did I," Noemi admitted. "Are you mad?"

Mark shook his head, "No, I'm not. Are you okay?"

Noemi made a noise, clutching her stomach as another pain gripped her, "No, it still hurts."

Mark gently spread her legs to examine her, "That's probably the...oh." His expression shifted, "There's another one."

"What?! No, I can't do it again--"

"Hey, hey, you'll be fine, you're with me," Mark carefully set up some blankets to set the first baby aside on.

"Now, I want you to breathe. Do you want to sit up?"

"It---this hurts, please..." Noemi whimpered. Mark carefully shifted her so she was on her knees.

"Gravity will help. Now, the next time you get a contraction..."

"A what?"

"Next time you feel the pain, bear down." Mark settled in, kneeling in front of Noemi so she could rest her body weight on him. She sobbed as she pushed, then stopped and shook her head.

"It feels wrong, it's wrong---"

"Push, Noemi, just do as I say," his voice was firm and authorative. Fear was like ice in Noemi's blood, but she listened. Each push was three times harder than the first baby had been. It all felt wrong. She screamed into Mark's shoulder, biting down as the pain intensified.

"It's wrong, it's wrong, I don't wanna do this, I can't give birth, please, Mark, I want to go to a doctor..." She sobbed, her voice muffled in his shirt.

Mark had his hand between her legs, gingerly pressing his fingers inside her.

"Listen to me, Noemi, you have to push. Just do as I say."

Noemi choked as a contraction railed through her. The weight--the baby between her legs felt strange and massive. When she pushed again, she let out a horrified scream.

"Ow! Oh my god, ow!"

"Push harder," Mark muttered, his voice filled with focus and concern.

"What's wrong with it?!"

"Just push!" She pushed again. A new pain. A new nightmare for her to dwell over. Noemi grunted as she bore down and dug her nails into Mark's arm as she clung onto it.

"It's---heavy, it---hurts---"

Mark shifted slightly, just enough for Noemi to see that the baby was coming out backwards. Fear ran through her and she recoiled. Mark grabbed her, steadying her.

"Noemi, just do as I say. Bear down, now. Don't stop until I say stop."

8:45 P.M.

Noemi whined and dropped her head. The pain was unlike anything she'd ever known. She felt the urge, constant, ripping through her like the body that stretched her wide open. She took in a sharp breath of air as she felt the shoulders clear.

"Fuck!"

"Keep going! Push! Push hard!" Mark instructed. She wanted rest. She wanted to stop, she---her body wanted this out. When the head slowly emerged from her, she heard a second baby cry. Noemi collapsed back onto the bed as Mark examined the second baby, a girl.

"I'm so sorry," Noemi cried, now cleaned up and holding their two children.

Mark admired her, leaning to kiss her forehead.

How was she supposed to know any better? Sure, she was 21 years old, and had moved into a city far from her tiny home town, but it seemed that she was suffering the effects of her past. She had met him at her first house party several months back, and he introduced her to things she had never even heard of before.

Drinking, dancing, his hands on her body... his devious smile when she told him she had never done this before still appeared in her mind from time to time.

She never even learned his name. It didn't matter, because she had moved on with her life. She got a boyfriend, started college, and was experiencing the things that most girls her age did. Well, most of them. Her period had stopped quite a while ago, and she was undeniably gaining weight.

Of course, she assume this was a result of her new lifestyle. She definitely was eating differently than she had in her strict childhood home. Her breasts had swollen, too, something she attributed to her weight gain.

Her boyfriend never seemed to mind any of it. She dressed pretty conservatively, and despite his insistence that her weight gain only made her prettier, she had gotten fussy about him seeing her naked.

Still, he was patient. He loved her. He never complained when she was sore, or cranky, or wanted ice cream at unholy hours of the night.

They had been together for about eight months on the day of the party. He had invited a group of his friends over for a LOTR marathon party. The room was crowded with people, which is why she ended up perched on his lap. He wrapped his arm around her, absently fussing with the hem of her skirt, which rested just below the knee.

Weird.

She had been wearing pants earlier. He briefly wondered why she had changed into a skirt, but didn't ask. Women.

They were halfway through the first movie when he noticed it. She was fidgeting, unable to sit still. He didn't comment, figuring she was just uncomfortable on his lap. Gently, he rested his hand on her thigh. She squeaked, brushing it away.

Pain was coursing through her body. Her stomach was tight, her back spasming, something inside of her firm and low. She couldn't get comfortable. It felt like no matter how she sat, it was wrong.

Making a scene in front of her partner's friends wasn't going to do her any good. All she had to do was get through a couple movies...

She underestimated how long the series was.

They were about three hours in when she started to squirm even further. Despite herself, she spread her legs, which was not behavior her boyfriend was used to. Usually, she sat like a lady.

He frowned, not wanting anyone to see up his girlfriend's skirt, so he grabbed a nearby blanket and tossed it over their laps. She continued to squirm, her tiny moans drowned out by the volume of the movie on the screen in front of them.

Her hand reached and found his, squeezing it firmly.

What was her problem?

He whispered a question in her ear, but she either didn't hear him, or just ignored it. Her squirming and gasping went ignored by their guests as she adjusted her position.

Five hours in. Her face was flushed bright red, her eyes wide. She was staring at the screen, but clearly, she wasn't actually seeing it. She had stopped squirming and was now just taking long, deep breaths. Her stomach was growing tighter and the pain was lasting longer with each round of torment.

What was wrong with her? Was this what happened when you didn't get your period for this long, and then got it again?

Sex ed had truly failed her. Well, it couldn't fail her, because she never got it. She desperately gripped at her belly.

Eight hours. They only had an hour left, right? She would be fine. The thing that was resting so low in her pelvis was not a problem. The cramping that was coming at a near constant timing was nothing to worry about. The temptation to bear down was not real. She was just stressed.

Her whimpers were muffled by her hand pressed over her mouth. Interrupting the marathon was rude. The pressure kept mounting. Her body kept urging for her to lean into it. She refused.

Nine and a half hours, and...

Why was the movie still going?

The pressure was mounting.

The urge was demanding she give in.

Was was the urge?

She didn't know this feeling, but her body did. She was born for this.

She couldn't sit still.

They were watching the extended edition.

Ten hours. She started rocking her hips back and forth, at the point of desperation once more. The pain came just about every minute. She was biting down on her hand to muffle the sounds she made.

Her ass was rocking against his groin. She made cute little noises as she grinded up against him. What was he supposed to do? Nearly twelve hours watching movies was cool, but his girlfriend finally deciding to get kinky with him after months of refusing to let her touch him---well, that was much more fun.

He felt his cock growing harder and harder. She had been rocking against him for half an hour before he gave in, fumbling under the blankets to unzip his pants. He pulled his cock out and rested it against her ass. She whimpered a little more, a sound of fear, but he heard it as arousal.

Her face was so pink, sweat on her forehead. She bit on her lower lip. She rubbed her ass against his cock again. What was he supposed to think she wanted?

The pressure was going to destroy her. Something was opening her. It was wide. It pressed between her legs. She swore she was going to split in half.

Tears streamed down her face.

The urge got stronger and stronger.

Her heart beat harder and harder in her chest.

She kept rocking her hips back and forth, trying to nudge whatever was inside of her out.

Her body urged for her to press down. She didn't know how.

Her whimpers and sobs were being drowned out by the dramatic sounds of battle on the TV. She felt her boyfriend's hard cock behind her.

She didn't know what was happening, but something was coming out. She was too afraid to reach down.

Her sobs were quiet. His moans were muffled as he leaned forward and bit into her shoulder. She continued to squirm and struggle.

Something had lodged itself between her legs. It filled the space that the boy at the party had introduced her to nine months ago.

Pain radiated through her body. Her stomach was rock hard. She was shaking so hard she was surprised that the girl next to them on the couch didn't feel it. She trembled desperately.

She wasn't strong enough to stop it.

She needed to push.

The urge was to push.

The only thing she could do was push.

She couldn't stop it. She bore down against...something. Her body immediately leaned into it. She was rewarded with agony. She screamed into her fist, rocking her hips even harder.

The tempo increased. It was a feverish pace that could not be replicated outside of this situation. Her boyfriend was gasping and moaning, biting into her shoulder as she struggled and sobbed and rocked her ass against his dick.

She couldn't tell him something she was. She couldn't tell him that something between her legs was huge, something that was splitting her in half, something that burned.

He wouldn't notice. Her teasing and grinding had been a constant ebb and flow for hours. While she was building to something that would traumatize her for life, he was building to an intense erotic experience.

Something was coming out of her. There was no way it was anything else. She reached between her legs, sobbing in fear as she pushed. This couldn't be real.

But it was.

Her boyfriend bit into her shoulder again, groaning loudly with arousal.

She let out an earsplitting scream. All eyes were on her.