Birth blog

His teeth clench and his face scrunches as he digs his fingers into the backs of his thighs and pulls his knees as far back as he can, a grunt grinding in his throat. The stunned medics watch the seam of his uniform bottoms stretch as he pushes harder, making no move to assist. It’s only his strained wheeze of Getthemoff! the prompts one of them to shove their hand under him and pull his waistband down his ass and over the bend of his thighs, revealing the straps of his jock framing his puffy, domed pussy.

His rock-hard belly softens, and the tension trembling through his body gives way to gasps as he releases the push. He tosses his head weakly and moans, “Is it out? Is it out yet?!” and falls into agonized groans when the medics tell him that they haven’t even seen the head yet.

By now the team is crowded around him, including the coach, who casually rests his clipboard over his lap, concealing that he’s the hardest he’s ever been in his life.

The medics try to move the player onto the stretcher, but he screams, “Don’t touch me!” when they try, so they have no choice but to sit back and watch him labor unassisted. His slow halting progress fills the Jumbotron, showing his bulging perineum and flared asshole, the lips of his cunt beginning to peek open at the height of every push. He keeps sobbing that it hurts, it’s too big, he’s gonna tear. But it only gets worse, the contractions getting closer and the dome between his legs growing bigger and bigger.

His tight cunt lips stay snug around the head of his bastard, his fat boyclit jutting up as everything between his legs is displaced. But finally, with a push that turns his face purple, the head moves enough that even when it inches back inside him at the end of the contraction, there’s still a perfect teardrop of hair visible.

His eyes snap wide, chest heaving as he struggles for breath to wail, “My pussy, my pussy, my pussy!” Coach’s cock twitches as he commits every detail to memory, from that pretty birthing cunt to the sweet rasp of the player’s voice.

The contractions come faster now, scarcely a minute between them, and the player only grows more hysterical between each one. “No, no, it’s too big!” he screams, with his lips only opened to reveal a small disc of the head.

The next several times he tries to push, he ends up flinching and trying to close his legs, though squeezing his thighs together only shifts more of the pressure towards his asshole, making it bulge and pulse dangerously. The medics end up grabbing his legs and pinning his knees back against his shoulders, and he shrieks as the shift eases the head forward, his taint and cunt lips stretched several inches away from his body as they struggle to open wide enough for the head, his jock almost cutting into his skin as the straps stretch around his birth.

“I can’t,” he sobs, “I can’t,” but it isn’t his choice. The next contraction comes, and he can’t help but push, body curling and thighs shaking, nothing but a high wheeze audible in his throat.

Finally, he crowns. He immediately stops pushing with a shriek, fruitlessly fighting to close his pried-open legs. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuuuuck! Get it out!!! Get it OUUUUT!” He tries to keep pushing, but he’s too weak to budge it without the help of his body, only succeeding in inching the crown just far enough forward to stretch his boyclit nearly flat.

“My clit!” he screams. “My clit! My clit! I’m tearing!!! Get it ouuuuuUUUUUUUUUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

A contraction hits in the middle of his cry, and his shrieking breaks off with a sharp peak of his voice as the huge head of the coach’s bastard bursts out of his abused boypussy in a gush of fluid. He falls limp with a cry, his whole body shaking. As his head lolls, he happens to catch a glimpse of the Jumbotron, and cold washes over him as he sees the massive high-definition image of a baby’s head hanging out of his cunt.

He doesn’t even quite process that it’s him until he feels the urge to push, and winces at the shoulders twisting inside him as he watches the head rotate on the screen. “That’s coming out of me,” he rasps. “Oh my god. Oh my god, it’s coming out of my pussy. It’s coming out of m—hhhhng!”

The urge to push overtakes him, and with a thin grunt, he shoves out both shoulders. He winces as he feels the rest of the slimy body tugged out of him, then numbly raises his hands to take the strange purple being when the medics hand it to him. He looks down at it, and the only thought he can hold in his head is a bewildered, That came out of me.

The applause began to fade into murmurs of conversation as the nobles settled back into their seats, and Celestine felt the weight of eyes upon her like a physical touch. 

She turned her head by fractions, her breath still coming in short, erratic bursts through her nose, "Hh... hh... haaah..." and met the gaze of her mother, the Queen Dowager, seated in the place of honor directly beside her in the front row.

The Queen Dowager's eyes were narrowed to slits, her lips pressed into a bloodless line, and as her gaze dropped to the floor beneath Celestine's chair, her jaw tightened with visible fury. 

Celestine followed her mother's stare downward and felt her stomach lurch with fresh horror. A puddle of fluid had spread across the carpet between her feet, glistening in the amber light, and a thin rivulet of pink-tinged liquid traced a path from the cushion to the floor. 

Her mother's hands gripped her own skirts, knuckles white, teeth clenched so hard Celestine could see the muscle jumping in her jaw. 

The glare held volumes of suppressed rage, the silent command to remove herself before she disgraced the family further, the fury that six months of concealment had led to this moment of public exposure.

"Your Highness," Elara whispered from behind, her voice shaking as she stared at the wet stain spreading across the velvet cushion. "Please, you must let me help you to your chambers. The carpet... everyone will see."

Celestine shook her head minutely, her chest heaving with desperate, shallow breaths that hitched and caught in her throat. "Hh... nngh... haaah..." She knew what she had to do. 

The head was out, resting between her legs beneath the heavy folds of her gown, pulsing with her heartbeat, and if she did not act now she would birth the baby entirely in front of the court. 

The thought formed with crystalline clarity through the haze of sensation still clouding her mind. If she could push the head back inside her birthing pussy, hold it there, she might still escape to her chambers before anyone else noticed the state of her. 

The crown prince's speech was beginning, the new king's voice booming through the hall, and all eyes were forward again.

She shifted her weight by fractions, her thighs trembling with the effort as she slowly, carefully lifted her buttocks from the soaked cushion. 

The movement dragged the crown of the baby's head against her swollen tissues, sending sparks of sensation shooting through her core, and she had to clamp her jaw to keep from crying out. 

She rose by inches, her hips hovering above the seat, her legs shaking with the strain of holding the position while keeping her upper body still and composed.

"Hnnngh... nnngh..." The sound escaped her as she bore down with her pelvic floor, using her internal muscles to push the head backward into her birthing pussy rather than guide it out. 

The sensation was obscene, the pressure immense, and she felt the head slowly, reluctantly retreating back into her body, the wet slide of flesh against flesh making her shudder with a mixture of relief and renewed arousal.

It moved backward by centimeters, her body swallowing the crown once more, the stretch reversing as the head disappeared back inside her birthing pussy with a soft, wet sound that she prayed no one else could hear.

Elara's gasp was audible, her hand flying to her own mouth as she witnessed the princess's trembling and the subtle shifting of her hips, and Celestine lowered herself back onto the cushion with infinite care, feeling the head settle deep inside her birthing pussy once more, the pressure building anew as if the birth had never begun. 

She crossed her ankles and squeezed her thighs together, sealing herself shut with desperate force, her breath coming in jagged, erratic bursts that she tried to mask with a delicate cough.

"Haaah... hh... nnh..." She fixed her eyes forward, her face a mask of porcelain composure, even as her mother continued to glare daggers at her from mere inches away, even as the puddle beneath her chair testified to what had nearly happened. 

The crown prince spoke of unity and prosperity, and Celestine sat in her seat with a baby half-born and pushed back inside her birthing pussy, trembling with the effort of containment and the terrible knowledge that she would have to endure this all over again.

The new king's voice rolled through the throne room like thunder, each word of his coronation speech landing with ceremonial weight upon the assembled court. 

Celestine sat rigid in her chair, her hands folded in her lap with the appearance of rapt attention, while beneath her skirts her body warred against itself. 

The head was back inside her birthing pussy, nestled deep and pressing relentlessly against her cervix, and every contraction threatened to force it forward again into the world.

"Haaah... haaah... nngh..." She breathed through her nose in quick, shallow bursts, her chest rising and falling with the rhythm of her restraint. 

The pressure was constant now, a heavy fullness that made her feel as though she were sitting on a stone, the baby's weight bearing down with gravitational insistence. 

She clenched her internal muscles in rhythmic pulses, squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing, trying to fatigue the muscle into submission so it would stop trying to push.

Elara's hand rested on her shoulder, trembling with the knowledge of what she had witnessed, and Celestine could feel her lady in waiting's panic radiating like heat. 

She did not dare turn her head. Her mother's presence beside her was a furnace of barely contained rage, the Queen Dowager's eyes fixed forward but her jaw still working with suppressed fury.

Another contraction gathered in her lower back, spreading forward like a wave of molten lead. Celestine's thighs pressed together until her muscles shook, her ankles crossed so tightly the bones ached. 

She felt the head shift, rotating slightly as it engaged once more with her pelvic bones, and she bore down with her pelvic floor in reverse, pushing upward with all her strength to counter the downward surge.

"Nnngh... nnn... haaah..." The sound whistled through her nostrils as she fought the contraction, her belly hardening beneath her bodice into a rigid mound. 

Sweat trickled down her spine, pooling in the small of her back and soaking into the fabric of her gown. The baby's head pressed forward despite her efforts, advancing fractionally before her desperate resistance shoved it back, and the sensation of that retreat sent shivers of unwanted pleasure up her spine.

The new king spoke of duty and honor, of the solemn responsibility of the crown, and Celestine bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted copper. 

She was failing her duty even as he described it, failing to maintain the dignity of her station, failing to keep her body from betraying her in the most animalistic way possible.

The head pushed forward again, and she pushed back, her hips shifting almost imperceptibly against the cushion as she fought to keep herself sealed.

"Hnnn... nnngh..." Her breathing was ragged now, audible to anyone who might lean close, and she tried to disguise it as emotion for the occasion, dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief as if moved by her brother's words. 

The gesture allowed her to cover her mouth, to muffle the sounds that wanted to escape her throat as another contraction built and peaked and she forced the head to retreat once more into the depths of her birthing pussy.

The pressure was becoming unbearable, a constant burning stretch that made her want to scream, to open her legs and push and be done with it. 

But she could see the end of the ceremony approaching, could hear the cadence of her brother's speech shifting toward its conclusion. 

If she could hold on, if she could deny her body for just a few minutes more, she might yet escape with her dignity intact.

"And so I pledge to you," the new king's voice rose to its crescendo, "my life, my service, and my sacred honor!"

The congregation erupted into applause, a roar of approval that shook the windows, and Celestine used the noise to let out a strangled whimper, "Ngh... aah..." as the final contraction seized her with vicious intensity. 

She bore down against it, her entire body trembling, her vision swimming with black spots as she fought to keep the head contained within her birthing pussy.

It pushed forward, stretching her entrance, and she pushed back with every fiber of her will, feeling it retreat by agonizing degrees until the contraction finally released her.

The applause continued, thunderous and overwhelming, and Celestine sat trembling in her seat, the baby still contained within her body by the barest margin, her breath coming in jagged sobs that she masked as tears of joy for her brother's triumph. 

The speech had ended and the ceremony was drawing to a close, the nobles rising from their seats in a rustle of silk and murmured conversation, and Celestine had endured through sheer force of will. 

She sat frozen in her chair as the congregation stood around her, her thighs clamped together, her body trembling with the effort of keeping the baby contained. 

She could feel the head filling her vaginal canal, heavy and demanding, occupying the space between her hips with relentless pressure, and she knew that if she stood, gravity would do what her contractions could not and force the baby out into the world.

The Queen Dowager turned to her daughter, her eyes burning with fury, and Celestine felt that gaze like a physical weight upon her skin. 

Her mother's jaw worked, teeth grinding together with audible force, and she leaned close enough that her whisper cut through the ambient noise like a blade.

"Get up."

Celestine shook her head quickly, her breath hitching in her throat, "Hh... nn... no..." She kept her eyes forward, her hands gripping the armrests of her chair, knowing that standing would be the end of her resistance. 

The baby was too low, too engaged, and the moment she rose from this cushion the head would descend and she would be powerless to stop it.

"Get up," her mother hissed again through gritted teeth, her fingers closing around Celestine's upper arm with bruising force. "Now."

"I cannot—" Celestine began, but her mother was already yanking her upward, pulling her from the chair with a sharp jerk that sent shockwaves through her body.

The moment her feet touched the floor, gravity seized the baby and pulled it downward with brutal efficiency. 

Celestine's mouth opened in a yelp that became a scream as the head rushed forward, stretching her entrance wide, and then the sensation transformed into something overwhelming and catastrophic. 

The crown of the baby's head pressed against the anterior wall of her canal, the soft fontanel and curved skull dragging against her most sensitive nerves, and she felt the tip of the nose graze her clitoris from the inside with exquisite precision.

"Ngh— aah— oh gods—!" The orgasm exploded through her without warning, her vision whiting out as pleasure ripped through her pelvis in violent spasms.

Her knees buckled but her mother held her upright, yanking her arm to keep her from collapsing, and the movement jolted the baby forward with unstoppable force. 

The head plopped out in one smooth rush of pressure and fluid, sliding through her stretched opening and emerging into the air beneath her skirts, the wet crown pushing past her folds and settling heavy and pulsing between her legs.

Celestine shuddered, her body convulsing with aftershocks of climax, her breath coming in ragged sobs, "Haaah... haaah... ngh..." 

She tried to clench, tried to draw the head back inside as she had before, but it was impossible now. The baby had descended too far, the shoulders were engaging, and she could feel the weight of the head hanging outside her body, too large to retract, too real to hide.

The Queen Dowager's grip on her arm tightened, her fingers digging into Celestine's flesh with desperate strength, and she pulled her daughter close enough that her lips brushed Celestine's ear. 

Through gritted teeth, her voice trembled with fury and fear, she whispered the command.

"Hold it. Hold it for five more minutes. Smile. Walk."

Celestine stood as straight as she could, her mother's arm supporting her, her own legs shaking with the effort of holding the baby's weight without letting it descend further. 

The head pulsed between her thighs, wet and warm and impossibly present, and she felt the first beginnings of the shoulders stretching her entrance. 

She fixed a smile upon her face, a rictus of porcelain composure, and let her mother guide her toward the exit as the nobles parted before them, every step a battle against the baby trying to birth itself completely in the middle of the court.

----

Hope you enjoyed this extended excerpt!

If you love this kind of content and want even more, I'd love for you to join The Preggo Fantasy Vault on Patreon! For just $5 a month, members get exclusive birth fics every single week, plus the chance to send prompts, request scenarios, and help shape future stories. 😍

Gay boy forced to go to a super religious university by his shitty parents

Lately, he’d been having lots of Braxton hicks contractions, but no true labor. This has been going on for a week at least. He tried to stifle his moans and groans in class, but many of his classmates can tell he’s gonna have to whelp soon. He’s never acknowledged his belly to anyone, so everyone leaves it unspoken… but lots of the guys can’t help but stare at his massive, beautiful belly, his mindlessly rub and caress it, holding his pups close.

Today, though, today was different. Today, his contractions seemed stronger. They were *visible*, and they kept on coming throughout the lecture… suddenly, musky liquid absolutely soaked his leggings and chair… he immediately started blushing, too… lots of the guys around him started whispering… “he’s gonna spill his pups in his pants for us, isn’t he…” “what a goooooooooddd booooyyyyy, I think he’s gonna whelp…”

And just as they suspected, his legs spread wide under his desk, and he sat back in his chair… one hand on his contracting belly and one… one definitely had gone between his legs… and… he was… pushing? He was definitely trying to hide it… but a bulge was quickly growing between his shaking legs…

He was obviously so ashamed… he wanted to be whelping at home, privately, in a secret place, a special place… but instead, he was gonna whelp his huge litter in the middle of the mandatory religious class we were all forced to attend. And whelping a litter in the middle of this class… let alone him, a gay, pregnant boy, whelping in class… he so obviously wanted to be anywhere else… but it was too late. He clearly couldn’t stop, even slow the crown from bulging harder and harder into his pants… you could swear he was trying to hold back… to resist pushing, resist whelping until this was all over… but the urge to whelp his pups RIGHT NOW was clearly in total control of his body. Soon, a massive, sagging weight appeared in his pants… a big pup, very, very big… and he was pushing again…

“Bro, he’s gonna give birth again… already…” “oh he really can’t help it, he’s gonna whelp them out right now…” “dude, look at him… look how hard he’s crowning already…” all the guys in class were staring… and you could tell he knew it. But he couldn’t say anything, couldn’t beg them to stop watching, because it would attract more attention, and probably get him in trouble for letting himself get knocked up… so he let everyone watch… watch him whelp in his pants over and over and over again… let them whisper about him… until finally, he was on the last head… and it was bigger. So much bigger… and just like that, he moaned. He moaned loud, got on all fours, and screamed “I’m sorry I’m so so sorry for being a slut, please don’t watch, oh fuckkkkkkkk the heads stretching me so BIG!!!” Slowly, ever so slowly, the head bobbed in and out of him… achingly slow.

“Hnnnnnngggggggggghggggggg!!!!” He whined, everyone staring, completely ignoring his plead to look away. Aroused or disgusted, everyone saw him whelp this enormous pup, crowning long and hard enough for everyone to get pictures of.