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He manages to duck into his office’s private bathroom and get his pants off before his water breaks. But when he examines himself in the full length mirror, he finds the first baby already making a bulging dome of his pussy, and resigns himself to pushing it out. He leans back on a chair he brought in for this purpose and watches his cunt slowly flex open with each push, shuddering at the sight. The pressure makes his meta cock stand up, making it look as huge and swollen as it ever has.

After a good half hour of watching the head bob closer and closer to its widest point before sinking back in, it finally stays, spreading his hole in a tight crown. He throws his head back and groans in pain, toes curling as he drags his fingertips delicately over his taut cunt lips. He massages his perineum and applies counter pressure as the head slowly, slowly teases him, always looking ready to pop out. Finally it bursts out, and he yelps, shuddering. He delivers in a few more pushes.

By 11, he’s sent his first baby on its way with one of the nannies he’s had on standby and is ready to jump back in to his schedule. He tosses back a dose of labor suppressant pills before he goes, and they work like a dream. The contractions ease up enough that they’re practically background noise, only the pressure of a low head occasionally reminding him that birth is imminent.

He works all the way until 4PM before the pressure starts to be too intense to think through, and he decides he should probably at least check what’s going on down there. He steps into the empty office of someone who went home early and reaches into his pants—only to find a head peeking out into his underwear! It thrills him almost as much as it annoys him; they should really have a warning on the label if the pills can’t handle a birth canal that’s already opened for another baby.

Oh well. Nothing for it. He limps back to his office and drops into a squat as soon as he closes the door, groaning at the relief of his pelvis flaring open. He hisses through his teeth as the head surges forward, stinging his cunt, and cups his bulging lips, exhaling shakily as he tries to massage them. The positioning just happens to make his palm into a nice little divot for his swollen cock to rub against, and he feels it going rock hard as his cunt grows round and heavy with the barely-held head. He keeps it there, rocking his hips and massaging for a long while before finally the pressure is unbearable, and he starts to push.

He crowns quickly, and this time as he tends to his stretched lips, he circles his fingertips around his perked cock every once in a while, too, teasing it. When he births the head, the release of pressure almost feels like something more, so much so that it leaves his cock pulsing and tender to the touch. But he leaves the poor little thing lonely while he guides his second baby out, easily pushing out one shoulder and then the other.

After another nanny from his team whisks away the new child, and he rubs the limp, heavy shape of the one remaining in his womb. He glances at his watch, seeing it’s only a bit after 4:30. The pills might not be enough to get him through the business dinner tonight—hors d'oeuvres will start at 5:00, main course at 6:00, and the execs will probably want to stay for coffee after the sales guys leave, so that could go to 9 or 10, easy. And with his birth canal now twice-loosened… he needs something more.

He unlocks the special drawer of his desk and hums thoughtfully as he surveys the contents. His selection of toys has seen a lot of use during his pregnancy; sometimes nothing can satisfy the hormones like wearing a vibe all day or sitting on a dildo during a video call. But one item that hasn’t seen much use is a massive plug. He intended to use it to stretch himself out before the births, but his one attempt to get it in had failed after over an hour of trying. Now, though…

He spreads his legs, and gently holds his tender, birth-stretched lips back. He had to give up at 3/4ths of the way inside when he first tried it, but this time the plug glides easily to that depth. His aching birth canal clutches at it, and he rolls his head back, squirming in exquisite pain. With slow, gentle screwing motions back and forth, he works the plug in. It’s massive, but it still feels small compared to a head.

“Come on,” he moans, “come on, c—AH!” His body jerks as the plug pops inside, settling happily beyond the still remarkably elastic muscles around his opening, nudging heavily against his poor cervix. He cringes and squirms a little, feeling something almost like suction as his dilated cervix flexes around the blunt nose of the toy. “Ohhh fuck…”

It’s massive. His overused cunt stings around it and the discomfort of it peeking into his womb makes him feel almost sick, but he knows one thing for sure: that baby isn’t going anywhere while he’s plugged like this.

He staggers to his feet, and spends the whole time getting ready for the dinner groaning loud and long as the plug shifts inside him, its weight bullying his cunt for every moment. His little cock tents his briefs, standing so hard that he can even see it through his slacks, though he doubts anyone else would notice, especially beneath the shadow of his still-huge belly. Though he’s pushed out two of the triplets now, his womb still feels half-full, maybe more.

He’s still big enough that no one at the dinner seems to suspect that he’s already started delivering. They can tell he’s close, what with the slow, wincing, wide-stanced way that he walks, and how he can’t stop shifting when seated, but no one bothers him about it as he keeps his spirits high and the subject on business.

After it takes two employees to help him groan himself to his feet, he waddles heavily into the bathroom to check the plug. There’s so much pressure that he isn’t surprised when he sees his crotch bulging obscenely low, so stretched that it’s shaped like a head is halfway out of him even though there’s barely a glimpse of the dildo’s silicone between his puffy red lips. He shudders and strokes his perked dick, eyes rolling back at its sheer sensitivity.

Though he could spend hours touching his birth-swollen cunt, he knows the other execs are waiting for him in the lounge. He’s shuffling slow with a hand to his back and his hips heavily forward when he joins them. Without the employees to behave for, half the exec board is coming over to tease him about how close he looks, and tell him he really should be in the hospital, and feel his still-shockingly-taut belly beneath his straining shirt. He indulges in their attention, subtly rocking his hips to feel the massive plug.

But soon, too soon, he feels the breath-stealing cramp of a head splitting his cervix. His cunt lips sting, cupped between the weight of his plug-deformed pussy and the crotch of his slacks.

With ties loosened around the room and more than a little of someone’s flask of whiskey shared between most of the execs, they’re bolder in watching him. One of the board members reclines on a couch, trailing fingers over the stark line stretching the crotch of his slacks. The vice president of marketing sits on the arm of a chair, her sharp pencil skirt hiked halfway up her thigh and her hips rolling against the upholstery.

It’s the CFO who finally approaches him.

“What’s this?” His deep, cool baritone makes the pregnant man shudder, and that’s before the heavy hand with the Rolex on the wrist cups his bulging crotch. “The head’s coming?”

“No.” He groans and lets his head fall back, settling his weighty cunt in this powerful man’s hand. “Head’s… in my cervix. Mmh.” The suppressant is beginning to wear off, the single steady cramp he’s felt all around his pelvic cradle tightening into something with more promise. “Ohhhh…”

“Then what’s this?” The CFO gently hefts the weight in his hand, and the laboring exec moans wretchedly.

“Ohhh, fuck. It’s- a plug. It’s plugging me up. Keeping the baby in. But- I feel it coming.” Before he knows what’s happening, his cunt bulges and the plug presses firmly against the CFO’s palm. “Oh- fuck, I’m pushing… oh…”

The CFO makes a low, purring sound. He strokes the straining pussy in his hand. “Why don’t you show us, baby?”

His head spins, the burn in his pussy increasing as he pushes the head firmly into his cervix. The contraction passes, leaving him gasping, swaying his hips, groaning. The CFO, still holding him by the bulge of his crotch, guides him by the plugged pussy to an ornate rug in the middle of the room. He unbuttons the laboring exec’s slacks and tugs them down, along with his soaked underwear.

“Come on, be a team player and show us.”

His cock aches as he sinks shakily to his knees. As a contraction grips his lower back, he groans and falls forward onto his hands, leaving his bare pussy upturned between his legs, showing the room how it stretches obscenely around the massive plug. The whole room watches as more and more black silicone inches out.

“Holy shit, he really plugged his cunt up,” someone says.

The exec in the pencil skirt draws a knee up and lets a hand fall between her toned thighs, openly circling two manicured nails over the seam of her pantyhose. “He likes it. Being good and plugged for us this whole time.”

With a wrung-out moan, he releases the push, shuddering as he feels his lips suck the plug back in. He rocks in place, limbs trembling as the muscles in his lower body remain seized tight around the head in his cervix.

He’s still catching his breath when his belly tenses towards him again. He gasps, disoriented by how quickly that came on, what was that, a minute? 30 seconds?

“It’s coming,” he groans as his cunt squeezes uselessly around the plug. “The baby’s coming, I need to push it out…”

“Hm.” Footsteps behind him. Then, a playful tap on the base of the plug, barely a nudge but still enough to make him whimper and jerk away from the stimulus. “Well,” says the CFO, “I guess you need to push out this plug, first.”

The thing is, he could reach around and get the plug out of his own pussy if it came to it. There is no actual reason to continue to endure this pain, the gut-twisting discomfort of being blocked from birthing.

But his cock is so hard.

Panting, he hangs his head and pushes.

Though the plug is a bit smaller than the heads he’s already crowned today, the base is so unforgivingly flat that every time he gets close to expelling it, his burning, swollen cunt lips just won’t relinquish the corners. He can feel his cunt bulging out far, so stretched that he realizes with a lurch of twisted heat that it will never be the same after this.

And every time the plug sinks back in, the corner drags over his gspot, making his engorged cock jump at the peak of his yawning cunt.

He pushes for a long time, until his whole body quivers and drips with cold sweat. He manages to push the baby’s head through his cervix, but that only forces it in alongside the plug, making him wail as the plug wedges at an angle against the wall of his birth canal, straining it well beyond its ability and forcing his opening to stretch abruptly to the left.

“AUGH!” He sounds like a kicked dog, his voice coming in rasping barks and whines. “Fuck, I need it out, I need it out, the head, the head—!”

“Aw,” says the CFO, pulling out of the drooling minor exec who’s been choking on his cock, “it’s okay if you can’t do it. You should have told me it was too big.”

He pants, feeling the part of the child still in his womb bounce with his aching abdominal muscles. His cunt twitches futilely. Then, when a contraction comes, he tucks his chin to his chest and lows as he pushes with everything he’s got. The plug surges inside him, straining at his entrance for a second, two, three…

“AaaaaAAAAUGH!” A throat-tearing scream busts out of him just as the plug does. The hunk of silicone makes a thunderous noise when it hits the floor, and people around the room gasp and marvel at the sight of it.

The CFO laughs in delight and calls him a good boy, and he only half-listens, because the shoulders of his final baby just spread his cervix and the head is heavy in his cunt. After so much stimulation, the pressure of the skull on his gspot makes his cock so hard it stings.

“Ohhhhh…” he starts to rock on his hands and knees, swiveling his hips around. “Oh, please. I need it. There, there, there—“ he babbles desperately to his own body as he tries to position it just right, chasing that swelling, pulling feeling beneath the pain, that release just a breath away…

He contracts and screams as he pushes the head to a crown. “I’m so full,” he groans, “so full.” He hears exclamations and expletives as everyone looks at his swollen pussy framing the perfect circle of the emerging head. “So full, the pressure, it’s so, it’s so…” He goes down on his elbows and keeps rocking, moaning brokenly as the position piles pressure on his gspot. His cock is a burning, pulsing point of sensation.

“Ohhhh here it comes, here it comes, I’m gonna push it out, I’m gonna, I’m gonna—!” He goes lightheaded with effort and feels his cunt budge the head as it clenches, his cock tingling, and-

The sudden relief of birthing the head tips him over the edge, and he screams as he cums, rutting weakly in the air as his twitching cock goes overstimulated and untouched. It keeps washing over him, making him twist and grip at the carpet and keep pushing, and with a surge of agony and unbearable pleasure, he thrusts his hips back and cums out the shoulders.

As he was bathed in the sunlight of the throne room, he laid eyes upon his majesty. King Leon Albaine the third was no dragon born. Standing at 5 feet and two inches, the gnome had long, flowing brown hair, clever green eyes, under brows that nearly covered them in anger, and a long and full beard.

Despite his stature, Leon was a rock of a man. He could win nearly any battle…

…Except this one. 

He looked down upon Armand with dark eyes. 

“Leon I-”

“Silence.” The gnome said coldly. “Have you thought about what you’ve done?” 

Armand nodded, his eyes filling with tears.

“I doubt that. Your whoring has ruined me. My kingdom thinks that I am weak, that I allow my consorts to float about. I must show them that is not the case.” He said. 

Armand looked up at him, wondering how he would do that. He had already thrown him in prison and denounced him. What more could he do?

“Essence!”

The dreaded witch instantly appeared by his side, her silver hair floating on a non existent breeze. 

“The book, please.” He said.

With a sly smirk, she handed it to him. He took his glasses from his cape and turned the pages quickly.

“By Aryulan customs, and unfaithful consort with be punished on display in front of the kingdom. On the throne, she will birth her children, chained to the crest of the Albaine crown.” 

Armand’s eyes dropped open. He looked up at Leon in complete shock. “What?”

Leon closed the book. “It is a tradition held by my bloodline since my great, great grandmother Leonna and her “wife”. It is as it says.”

He turned and pointed to the large crest on the wall above his throne. It gleamed with the pride of generations. 

“When your water breaks, you will sit on this throne and birth your bastards. My subjects will watch and cheer at your pain as you did mine.” He continued.

“Leon-”

“Spit my name from your mouth. The privilege to call me that expired after you broke my heart!” He shouted.

Armand sniffed. “But your majesty. What will this solve? You said that you loved me. How could you hurt someone that you love?”

The gnome king squinted and turned his back on him. “I could ask you the same question.” He replied. 

~~~

Armand sat up in his cell panting through contractions. He hoped that if he didn't do anything, his water wouldn't break. Maybe then, Leon would have time to get over this tantrum; and he could give birth normally.

But he was exhausted, two days in and he felt as if his baby would burst out of him like a rocket. Why couldn't he have felt like this the month before? Before Leon knew that he had cheated. 

It was all Essence’s fault. That damn witch. She ruined everything. If it weren't for her gossiping tongue, he wouldn't be in this situation. His heart raced in anger, just from the thought of her and her smug face. 

Why did she have to-

His thought was suddenly interrupted by a cramp that drew his huge belly in. He gasped in surprise and pain. His baby's head slammed into his cervix, bringing tears to his eyes.

“Oh Gods!” He whispered.

The one time that he needed this baby to stay in, it wanted to come out. Kids never listen!

Slowly, he scooted up the wall, recovering from his contraction. As he did, he felt something burst, and all of a sudden, he was soaked. 

“Curses!” He whispered

He didn't have much time left. He knew that the guards stood in the hallway, periodically checking on him and his stubborn womb. If he was going to do this, he had to make it as quick and quiet as possible. 

His robes were heavy and full, surely they could conceal him. Feeling another cramp begin, he scooted back and leaned against the wall to support his back. If he spread his legs it would be too obvious that something was going on, so he sat in a butterfly position. 

His belly hung low between his legs, just barely touching the ground that he sat on. Quickly, he swiveled his head and listened for the guards. He didn't see or hear any, so they were probably just outside.

He took the hem of his robe, stepped on one side and pulled as hard as he could, ripping it. He stuck the makeshift rag in his mouth, hoping to muffle any sounds that came from his pain. 

He already felt bruised on the inside, the head pressed hard against him, starting to poke its way through before he had even begun to push. 

He sat back on his butt, lifting his pussy as it started to bloom. He sighed into the rag, leaning back on his hands to support himself. Under his robes, a gush of fluid burst from him as he first began to push. 

He bit down on the rag, but kept his eyes open, watching and listening for any guards. His face heated with effort and his ears rang as he bore down. He could just barely see his large burden shrink with contraction under his dress. He just hoped that no one else would notice from afar that he was giving birth. 

The head was wide and long. Each soft scale brushed against his cervix as it entered his birth canal. He could feel thick mucus dribble out of his pussy and into his slick panties.

Gritting his teeth, he pushed again; eyes wide open in case someone came in. With his hips angled downwards, the head parted his pussy quickly and quietly.

“Mhm!” He grunted into the rag as the head reached his opening. He stopped pushing and panted through his nose. His big belly rose and fell with each breath. Just drawing air spread him farther. In just moments, he was overwhelmed with a searing pain. 

Quickly, he clapped his hand over his mouth, choking back a guttural scream. Moaning into his palm he threw his head back and rocked his hips. If he pushed now, he was sure to cry out and blow his cover. 

He felt his baby’s head move within him every time that he took a breath. The urge to push was overwhelming, but he knew that he couldn't. This was the birth of his baby that was in jeopardy, who knows what Leon would do to him if he was caught.

“Hmph-” He grunted, angling his hips downwards. The head spread him open and the scales scraped his bruising hole. He bit down on his lip to keep from crying out.

Why had he done this? He was no dragon! These scales felt like hot iron inside of him, tearing his birth canal. 

He moaned into the rag as he felt his baby move down again. There was so much pressure that he could hardly take it. His belly warped with movement and contractions, as if whatever was inside of him would burst from his womb. 

Slick with fluids, the head slowly slid down, pushing his pussy outwards. He gritted his teeth into the rag and took in the deepest breath that he could. Armand wrenched his eyes shut and bore down. 

Hot tears slipped from his tightened eyes and cascaded onto his full breasts, weighed down by milk. His belly nearly flattened against him as he pushed. Fluid spurted into his robes and the first half of the head popped out with a soaking squelch. 

He gasped through his nose, shocked by the sudden sensation. His pussy and hips were spread to their limit. The stretched, bulging skin of his opening burned, trembling over the baby's head. The pain was unbearable and the heat radiated throughout his body. 

His robes kept all of his pain and sweat close, choking him with fever. He threw his head back against the wall, his heart racing in his chest. 

He tried to push, but the pain was too great. The head only bulged his pussy. He felt as if he was going to split apart from the sheer size. This baby was going to tear him to shreds. 

Suddenly, he heard the sound of  voices at his door. He jumped, nearly forgetting the agony that he was in. He clenched for just one second and cried into the rag. That one moment of surprise caused part of the head to slip back into him, scraping his pussy along the way. 

He gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut as his belly contracted once more, slipping the head back out again. He was fully stretched and he knew that he couldn't take much more.

Still, the voices grew closer. They were approaching him. Quickly, he spit the rag from his mouth and hid it between his falling breasts. His robes were colored with dark red, purple, and crimson dyes; the wetness of his labor was concealed by them. 

He forced himself from the wall, but stayed in position, keeping his legs open for the baby. As the voices drew near, his heart sank as a familiar cadence entered his ears. 

Leon.

What would the gnome king say when he saw him? Had he come to taunt and scorn him once more? Had the storm passed? Could Armand beg for his forgiveness?

As the lock to his prison turned, he knew that his questions would soon be answered. 

“Has anything changed?” He asked. 

“Nothing yet, your majesty. The prisoner has been quiet.” The guard said. 

He could feel the look of annoyance in Leon’s voice. “And you didn't bother to check what that meant? He could be in labor!” He exclaimed. 

“My apologies. I was under the impression that you didn't care, sire.” The guard spluttered. 

“Of course I care. I made a vow to my kingdom. I cannot allow him to escape his fate.” He hissed. 

Armand's heart dropped. There was no way that Leon would let him birth his child here if he was discovered. On the inside, his child kicked and he instinctively reached for his gravid belly. He had to keep them safe somehow. 

The door finally opened and Leon entered the chamber. His face was stuck in a permanent, pensive frown. He barged into the prison, knowing that in some way, he owned Armand. For the first time since they had last laid together, Leon looked down on him. 

The two stared at each other in silence, watching through the bars. 

“M-my…my king.” Armand whimpered, his lower lip quivering. 

Leon only looked down in silence. The only sounds that Armand could hear were the desperate beats of his heart in his ears, and his own, labored breaths. 

“Why have you come to see me?” He asked. 

Without a word, Leon unlocked the door to the cell and walked in. He stood over Armand, red in the face with rage. 

“Stand.” He commanded.

Armand blinked rapidly. His baby’s head hung between his legs, still stretching him. 

“What?” He asked. 

Leon sneered. “You dare question your king? I told you to stand!”

Armand swallowed back tears and looked up at his king. His legs shook even as he sat, his hips were wide open and his body was weak. There was no way that he could do that. 

“I… I can't.” He whispered. 

Leon frowned. “What?” 

“I can't!” He exclaimed.

Leon’s breath hitched. “Why not?” He asked. 

He reached to touch his aching roundness, tears spilling from his eyes. 

“My baby is coming.” He wept. 

“What?”

“I am in the throes of labor, my king. I am in great pain.” He continued.

Leon's eye twitched. Before he could say anything more, his robes were pulled up. In his panties was a large, bloody bulge, writhing with every breath that he took. 

“Please, Leon. I just want to have my baby.” Armand cried. 

The King's face warped. His face and ugly mix of disgust and anger, but Armand could also see fear in his eyes. Under  the blood and fluids were crimson scales under thin brown hair, markings of a dragon born.

“I knew it.” Leon whispered. 

“Leon-”

“Guards!” He shouted. 

As footsteps rang through the dungeon, Armand loomed back to Leon with watery eyes. 

“Please, my king. Have mercy!” He cried. 

Leon stuck out his chin and flared his nostrils with a deep frown. “No.” Was all that he said. 

In an instant, he reached for Armand's nethers and palmed the baby’s head. 

“What are you do-AAAUGH!”

In one said motion, he shoved the head back inside of his birth canal, entering him and far as he could. 

Without thinking, Armand kicked him in the shoulder, throwing him back. Leon's eyes gleamed with rage.

“Stop it!” Armand cried. 

Another contraction ripped through him, blinding him with pain. His head was overcome by heat. Guards rushed in, one kneeled by Leon’s side.

They grabbed under his arms and forced him to his feet. He screeched in agony and his baby slipped down inside of him, scraping his insides. Liquid ran down his leg as a guard pushed his back.

“Walk.” He commanded. 

This time, Armand didn't argue. Shakily, he stepped forward, letting the guards rush him to the throne room. 

~~~

With a deep gasp, he awoke. He leaned forward, but found himself stuck. First, he looked down. His belly was still full with his spawn, rippling with contractions. Blood ran down the golden throne to his bare feet. 

His breasts weeped milk onto his roundness, and a tight, leather garment bound his pussy. 

He pressed forward, but was stopped by the chains around his wrist. The cuffs were tight and pulled his arms upwards towards the crest that hung high above the royal throne. 

“Ungh!” He pushed, but it was no use. The leather held him tight, keeping his baby inside. 

Tears filled his eyes as they left his own body. The throne room was filled with spectators, men and women, drinking, betting, laughing. They all watched as the king entered the stage, his eyes on Armand.

“You're awake.” He muttered. 

“Le- HAH!” He gasped. The baby's head pressed against the leather, filling him painfully. 

“Save your strength, my dear. You will need it to birth your little monsters.” He crooned, stroking his cheek. 

Quickly, Armand turned his head and bit down, but he only caught the air. 

Leon grinned. “Calm down now, I’m only trying to make this easier for you.” He said. 

Armand panted. “How is any of this easy?” He demanded. 

Leon shrugged. “At least after this, that first dragonette is bound to come shooting out of you.”

Turning around, he lifted his leg and pressed his foot against his crotch. Armand's vision swam as the pain raced through his body. His belly flattened against him, trying with no avail to get the baby out.

Still, he looked up at the king with contempt. “You never said you would do this to me.” He hissed.

“That was before you tried to escape the consequences of your actions.” Leon replied. 

He looked out into the crowd. “Do you see them?” He asked, referring to his subjects. “They're betting on how many babies you'll release from your lying lips and what they will be.”

He turned back to Armand with a sly smile. “I bet you don't even know what's living inside of you.” He teased. He placed a palm on his writhing belly and Armand could do nothing about it. 

“You are sick!” Armand hissed. 

Leon's eyebrows bounced on his forehead. “Watch what you say. I could have you laboring even longer if I do please.” He said. “You're lucky that I only decided to delay your birth by a day as punishment for your tricks.” 

Armand's breath hitched, but in his quest for words, he came up with nothing. 

“Maybe this will give you some time to think about what you've done.” Leon replied. 

After that, he turned on his heel and started to walk away. Armand pulled on the chains, fruitlessly trying to catch up to him. 

“You can't do this!” He cried. “You have to let me give birth! It hurts! Please!”

His only answer was Leon walking off of the stage and sitting in the crowd. A sadistic smile spread across his face as he watched Armand writhe in pain.

~~~

The sun rose and set and Armand labored all the while. After so much time, he didn't care that he was naked and on display for the whole kingdom to see. He had to push. 

He spread his legs as wide as they could go and angled his hips off of the throne. The leather made his efforts fruitless, pressing against him tightly, pushing his baby back inside his battered pussy. 

He had no strength left to cry or scream, all that he could do was wait. The crowd watched him with hungry eyes, betting on his life, the life of his babies. 

Through the stained glass windows of the throne room, the sun beat down on him, freckling and tanning his brown skin. He was covered in cold sweat and birthing fluids that ran down the throne, covering the stairs. 

He whimpered and closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to end. Through the deafening agony, he heard footsteps and just barely opened his eyes. 

Leon approached him, dressed in all of his royal garb. His crown resting on top of his head. His face was hardened, but he still glowed with sadism. 

“How are you doing, darling?” He asked, lifting Armand's chin. 

Armand winced and shivered. “I’m. Fine.” He whispered shortly.  

Leon tilted his head and smiled. “Aw, look at you, putting on a brave face. You really are a gem.” He said. 

“It's too bad that you just couldn't be satisfied with me, we could have had great times together.” He crooned. 

Armand sniffed. “I want nothing to do with you.” He growled. 

“That's too bad.” He paused and pressed a hand down on Armand's tight belly. The laboring man cried out in pain and fluids spurted from his pussy. Blood flowed down the stairs, decorating them in gore. 

“Maybe I’ll have you go another day. The crowd seems to like you. Did you know that you're the first to do this in seventy nine years?” He taunted. 

Armand couldn't answer, still crying from the torture.  He couldn't even move to soothe himself. He was completely vulnerable and stuck. His baby writhed inside of him, pressing against the leather garment. 

“You can either denounce yourself for your children or… well, leave it up to fate.” Leon teased. 

Armand gasped. “Just let me give birth to my babies.” 

Leon shrugged. “It's your choice.”

With a pensive pause, Armand turned towards the crowd. He hung his head, looking down at his bloodied crotch. 

“I, Armand of Belfdale, renounce my place as consort. Due to my unfaithfulness, I have brought this upon myself. I would be honored for his majesty to let me release my bastards against his throne.” He said. 

Almost instantly, the crowd began to boo him. Throwing their food and drinks towards the throne. The uproar burned his ears and tears fell from his eyes.

Leon turned back to him, but he didn't bother to look into his cold green eyes again. 

“Well, they seem excited.” He said. 

Armand stayed silent. 

“Surely, you can wait until they calm down.”

~~~

Night fell and Armand's consciousness was weak. He rose and fainted multiple times during dinner. He knew that this couldn't continue for much longer. 

This time, a guard stepped up to the plate. He couldn't see his face through his helmet, but he seemed nervous. 

“The king is graciously allowing you to give birth.” He said. 

Armand panted heavily, watching the rise and fall of his own belly.

Without another word, the young guard undid the leather straps and slowly pulled them down and off of his ankles. Armand spread his legs. His contractions had weakened over time, but he still needed to push. He was going to deliver these babies. 

He angled his hips off of the throne and whimpered as his baby's scaley head reentered his ruined hole. He wrenched his eyes shut and turned away from the crowd as they jeered. 

He wished that he could rub his belly, feel the head and tell his little baby that everything would be okay, but he was chained, terrified and in grave pain. He had to do this quickly. 

He pressed his chin to his chest and pushed, barely even having a voice left. A high pitched whine slipped between his teeth as he was once again, stretched to his limit. 

Even when the weak contraction stopped, he kept pushing,forcing his baby lower. Suddenly, the head popped out of him and a gush of fluids that he didn't know he had in him vacated his body. 

He gasped and leaned forward, pulling on the chains. His baby’s scales had hardened inside of him and scraped against his vagina. Still, he pressed on. 

Bearing down again, the baby's neck and shoulders slowly slipped out. They sank heavily into his pussy, pulling the rest of the body out. Before he could react, his first baby fell onto the stage.

Armand gasped and leaned forward as much as he could. The little girl squirmed, opened her mouth and finally cried. Despite the pain that he was in, Armand felt relieved. 

“It's okay, I'm here. It's okay.” He whispered to her. 

As she cried, another, stronger contraction rushed through him. His belly tightened and he felt his pussy stretch, but he didn't even realize that he was pushing until his second baby fell onto the ground next to her sister.

He and the crowd gasped in unanimous surprise. This girl had no scales and a full head of curly brown hair. Her birth had been so fast that Armand barely had time to react. Neither did his body. 

After he saw her, his pussy throbbed with horrible pain. He winced and spread his legs as he lost more blood. At this point, he was so swollen that he was becoming numb. 

Despite birthing two babies, his belly hadn't gone down by much. He still felt full and restless. Inside him, another baby writhed and kicked impatiently. Now that their siblings were free, they were next.

The head pressed against his loose cervix, his hips popped, and he felt as if he was going to break apart. His belly lurched with another contraction. 

The crowd cheered wildly, excited for another, longer birth. He wasn't concerned about them though, their shouts were dulled by the pain that he was in.

Armand could hear his heartbeat in his ears, rushing especially quickly as his babies cried from the floor. He had to get to them. 

All of a sudden, he felt something snap and searing hot agony permeated his hips. He shrieked, crying out. Something was wrong, this baby was pushing him past his limits. 

Despite how hard he was pushing, the baby wouldn't move any further. The scaly head pressed him open, forcing his legs as far apart as they could go.

“AUGHH!” He screamed. His voice shook and cracked from effort. He could feel the veins in his forehead popping. Still, he pushed fruitlessly. 

A wave of amniotic fluid flushed from him, soaking the stairs of the stage and the throne. There was nothing else, his hips were stuck open and he felt as if he was going to burst. He had to do something. Anything!

For the first time in hours he lifted his head, facing the crowd. Gasps and whispers followed his gaze as he planted his feet and slowly stood. His big belly poked out in front of him, full of the large baby he was carrying. 

His hips protested greatly, but he held himself up. Adrenaline rushed through his veins as he pushed once more. 

“HUAAAGH!”

Pink fluid spilled from him as he bore down. His pussy bulged out as the head finally entered his birth canal. He lunged and pushed again, feeling the baby's head press against the outside world.

This head was even harder than his oldest daughter's, and blood ran down his legs as the scales cut him. He put his chin to his chest and pulled on the chains. His baby was depending on him. 

As much as he could, he squatted. His belly constricted against him and he whimpered loudly. His large load sank as the baby's head finally popped out of his vagina, opening it completely. 

He pushed down, pulling on the chains. He spread his legs as wide as he could. The baby’s weight filled him and bulged him out. He felt as if his organs were going to fall from him. 

Briefly, he stopped pulling and gasped for air. He opened his eyes and looked up at Leon. The king stared down at him with hardened eyes, watching as his pussy slowly released this monster of a baby. 

Armand curled his lip, looked into his eyes and pushed again. The scales scraped him and opened his mouth and screamed, still looking into Leon’s eyes. He and his babies were going to make it, Leon wasn't his master, even if he was chained. 

With his momentum, he pulled against the restraints as his baby's shoulders left his body with a squelch. The child hung still inside of him and he tried to push, but he felt something poking him. 

The bony structure on his child’s back stuck into the scrapes that he already had. Tears filled his eyes as they slid down, ripping his pussy. 

Blood dropped at his feet, planted in front of the fruits of his labor. His head swam and his eyes twitched. He looked up at Leon, who looked down at him. He wasn't sure, but it looked like a smirk crossed his face.

Leon thought that he was weak. He’d show him.

He pulled on the chains as hard as he could and pushed. His baby tore into him as it came down. His baby spilled from him and the bony structures unfolded just below his vagina. 

Wings.

“AAAUGH!”

He pulled on the chains and gave one final push. As he did, a deafening bang rang from behind him. Quickly, he swiveled his head around as the Albaine crest was forced from the wall.

The sudden change sent Armand sprawling to the ground beside his babies, as his son fell from his wounded womb. The crest crushed the throne, kicking up hundreds of years of dust.

The crowd immediately ran for the doors. In the panic, the king's mobile throne was dropped. Armand watched in horror as he fell into the audience and was trampled.

“Are you ready, my lord?” you ask in a fake old world accent, pulling the skirt of your dress to the side with one hand and holding your stomach with the other, lowering into a polite curtsy. I take a moment to enjoy the birds eye view down your low lacy neckline before offering my arm and helping you to a standing position. In one fluid motion You’re upright and pressed against me, leaning down for a quick kiss.

“My god, you’re sexy,” I murmur against my lips, hands exploring your body beneath the elaborate folds of your gown.

“Mm, just wait ‘til you see me with a head crowning between my legs.” Even the thought makes you shudder with desire as you hike up the fabric to give me better access there.

I chuckle and slide my hand up your thigh, brushing over the fabric of your panties. “We may not make it to the fair if you keep this up,” I say, applying a bit more stimulation and causing you to gasp. “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to stay.”

You know I’m wary about your intentions—and honestly, I make a compelling case—but you’re only going to have one first birthing experience and this is how you want to do it. “Don’t worry, baby, it’ll be fun.” I look doubtful as you display your best pout. “It’ll at least keep me distracted.” As if on cue, your stomach tightens, and in turn you make a point of keeping your stance and expression neutral, the only indication that anything’s happening a slight change in your breathing. “See? I can do this.”

“You can do anything,” I agree, removing my hand so that the hem of your dress falls back to the floor. “Guess we should get going then.”

You hook your arm around mine and, perhaps a bit too eagerly, glide out the door.

The walk to the event was a bit slow going, considering your size, but you make the most of it with seeing various turned heads, and the occasional honk and cheer from passing cars as they see your gravid form walking down the street. You had been doing curb walking for the last few weeks to try and get things moving, and automatically fell into that rhythm, up and down, up and down as one foot landed on the curb and another on the road next to it. The added jiggle factor of your breasts bouncing up and down helped with getting you noticed of course. Let’s just say that as we turned the corner into the site of the faire, you were very flustered – and it wasn’t just due to the exercise. We stopped twice on the way for a breather and to let a contraction build and pass, but thankfully we arrived without incident.

You feel another contraction build up while we’re waiting in line for tickets, but it’s easy to ignore amidst the hustle and bustle of the crowd. Everyone is in costume, many with even more on display than you, and, not to be outdone, You loosen your own tie a bit. I notice and cock an eyebrow at you as you give me a wink—perhaps later I’ll tie you up tighter or perhaps take it off altogether; the possibilities are endless and equally thrilling. We can’t keep our hands off each other and the booth attendant has to toss a piece of popcorn at us after a few gruff coughs to get our attention. She seems equal parts amused and irritated when you request two and a half tickets as you press your hands into the curves of your belly, showing it off.

Once inside, you make a beeline straight for the giant turkey legs, dashing off before I realise, surprisingly spritely for someone in your advanced state of pregnancy considering how much walking you had done already. I soon catch up to you as you join the back of the queue - the turkey legs being one of the most popular things in the area meaning the line was always big.

You were panting a little out of breath, but smiled back at me "You're too slow."

I circle my arms around you and pull you back into an embrace, kissing the top of your head as I feel your chest raising and falling in line with your heavy breathing. We both burst into a giggle as the line slowly starts to work its way down.

As we get to the front, the lady serving the food has a wide grin on her face as you approach.

"Hey there, what can I get you and the bump?"

Entirely straight faced, you respond "Bump? Oh this? I just REALLY like the turkey legs." You emphasised the size of your belly by rubbing your hands up and down it tracing the shape under your dress.

Her face was a picture, completely unsure what to do with herself. She was stammering and clueless what to do next, in worry that she was going to offend you, but the onset of another contraction soon put paid to your charade.

You couldn't do much else than wince and rub your belly, but used it as a convenient excuse to apologise to the lady behind the counter and explain that yes, you were indeed pregnant, and you would really like 2 turkey legs. And no… one was for me - you weren’t going to just pig out on them. The baby obviously didn't like you making fun of the poor lady and gave you a kick in punishment.

I was smirking through this entire exchange but we soon got our food serving, a couple of drinks and headed off to watch a band play. As we got to the showground area, one of the local attendants brought over a chair for you to sit down on, whilst I climbed onto the ground between your legs. We sat down and had a few minutes of relaxation until you started to huff and puff a little, hand rubbing your belly.

"Starting to get noticeable I presume?" I asked. You nodded, leaned forward as much as your belly would let you so you could speak in a whisper close to me and said that when we were in the queue for food it was the first contraction which had taken your breath away. You thought it was because you had just rushed to the queue, and the strenuous activity had been an influence… but right now you're sitting down, doing nothing… and yeah, it’s now very noticeable.

"We can always back out?" I asked… already knowing your answer.

"Not a chance. Did you see how much people are looking at me, looking at the bump? This is going to be EPIC!"

We stay listening to the band longer than expected—they’re quite good, and the baby seems to like it. There are little kicks and twists that seem to coincide with the beat and our amusement begins to attract attention. You’re more than happy to let the other people in the audience touch your belly to feel it too, and pretty soon we’ve got the whole crowd dancing along. With a firm grasp of your hand and waist, I twirl and dip you through several more contractions. Another one starts up just as a song ends and I pull you into me, managing to hide the grimace on your face.

Someone comes up when the upbeat tempo begins again and asks if the little one is still boogieing in there, and you turn to her with what you hope is a smile. Clearly something about your face is off, or maybe it’s my laboured breathing or the way you’re holding your stomach, but she asks if you’re okay as you wave her off.

“Just overdid it, I think. My back and feet are killing me!”

She hums in sympathy and recalls how difficult those last few weeks always are, how you just wish the baby would get here already.

You’re smiling in earnest as you say to her, “It definitely won’t be long now.”

We go to the sword fighting demonstration next, and the people in the front graciously offer us their seats when they see your bump hovering beside them at eye level. You give them a small curtsy that turns into a very ungraceful plop down onto the beach seat. “I’m just never going to get used to balancing with this thing,” you say by way of apology to the people on either side of you, pressing in the fabric of your dress around your stomach to emphasize its impressive size. “Won’t be a problem much longer, though,” you say, giving it an affectionate pat.

I’m chosen from the audience to participate—our entrance made a bit of a scene and did not go unnoticed by the actors—you whoop and holler as they pull me on the stage. They teach me a few moves and then “challenge” me for my affections, seeming to imply that the baby you’re carrying may or may not be mine, as you somehow wind up on the small platform right along with me. I do surprisingly well mimicking the moves showed to me earlier until finally I’m at a standoff. A contraction hits hard and fast and you double over with a surprised yelp and both of us on the stage turn to look at you—to cover up the slip, you make it part of the performance, like you had feigned a labour pain to fluster him, and shout, “Quick, my love, strike while he is distracted!” The actor takes the cue and allows me to land the final blow while the two of us share a passionate kiss (which earns us a fair few whistles and applause from the crowd) before taking a bow (admittedly, you didn’t bend too low) and running off before anyone can question whether you’re really that good of an actor.

The public escapades up until this point and - after that last contraction - knowing it won’t be long until the big finale has you all hot and bothered as you pull me into what you hope is a vacant tent. You wrap a leg around me waist, your hands toying with the ties of my costume. “Got time for a little more swordplay?”

As we slip into the tent we’re giddy, giggling happily, but after a few furtive glances around to make sure we’re alone, we’re quickly getting serious and down to business. Kissing across your cleavage and up your neck has you shuddering in delight as I take a moment to lift your top over your head and expose your underwear clad body to the world. My hands explore your body as I strip you of the bra you were wearing along with tugging down your panties and leaving them in a crumpled heap on the floor. You’re standing there naked in front of me, glorious in your bountiful pregnant form, as you pull me close and tug down my trousers, bunching them at my feet.

My “sword” is well and truly on display as you’re licking your lips in delight as you manage to find a position you can support your body whilst leaning back against a table, opening your legs in accommodation.

My first thrust was strong, and made you yelp with the unexpected force. One of my hands grasped your hair and pulled your head back exposing your neck further to my kisses as you moaned in delight with my thrusts now slowing to a much more relaxed tempo.

You couldn’t hold that position long with the weight of the baby positioned as it was so you eventually turned and braced yourself against the table with your hands, presenting your ass to me. My knees slid between your legs and pressed lightly to the side, parting your own legs, you bobbed down into a bit of a squat to give even more access.

We scrabbled around in this position for a few thrusts into your waiting pussy but because you were quite low down it was a strain for me to keep thrusting up whilst getting the angle I needed to.

With a quick slap on your behind - resulting in the most magical squeal I’d ever heard - I pulled up a chair and sat on it as you finally lowered yourself on me - giving me free reign to enjoy your breasts and belly as you bounced.

Our groans joined each other as your approaching climax caused you to speed up your actions, my own cum releasing deep into you in a flood as I couldn’t hold back any longer. The resulting sensations tipped you over the edge as your orgasm caused you to yell out with pleasure, lost in the moment of bliss.

The sound you made must have alerted someone passing by as we heard footsteps approaching rapidly. Jumping we both looked at each other as you scampered off with an amazing high speed waddle out of the back door of the tent, as naked as the day you were born - completely oblivious to if there was anyone waiting on the other side.

I grabbed your dress and bra, pulling up my trousers but not fastening them to at least allow me to walk without tripping up. I join you outside to see that thankfully there’s no one there so I hand you over your dress and bra whilst fastening my trousers.

“I’ll need my panties too” you say “you’re dripping out of me down my leg” and that’s when we both realised that in the rush to leave I’d left them in a crumpled heap on the floor.

You shrugged “oh well guess someone will have a nice surprise… and I’ve got to deal with the leak” as you pull the top over your head - not bothering with the bra either, stuffing it tight down and pushing it into my pocket - and glance around the side of the tent in order to get back to the main show area.

We walked around and found somewhere opposite the tent we were at to check on what was happening but no one came out. They’d either dashed out before we got dressed and we missed them, they hadn’t spotted the thing we had left, or were left enjoying them - either way you seemed to be getting a thrill out of what had happened.

The next contraction took you by surprise through as you grasped onto me. I turned my head to see you visibly biting your lip to avoid letting out a scream. Suddenly there was a splash and a puddle formed between your legs. We both knew what that puddle was.

Without the cushion of an amniotic sac, the baby suddenly felt much lower, the contractions much more insistent, and the need to push much more urgent. The groan that emerged from your throat was guttural, instinctual, and you crouched down where you stood, clutching onto my forearms for support.

“Are you pushing?” I asked, slightly whiplashed between the thrills of having sex, nearly getting caught, and now this. “Already?”

You just gave me a squeeze in response, putting all your focus into breathing and controlling you volume until the contraction was over. With my help you stood back up and wrapped your arms around me, both of us still a little shaken.

Even though it came rapidly you were a little more prepared for the next one, able to maintain your standing position while your body worked to bring the baby down. You buried your head into my chest as we swayed together through the worst of it. We were hidden away, tucked in the narrow alley between tents, and any passersby would mistake it for a tender embrace. But we’d have to come out of here eventually if we wanted an audience.

There was a major show going on at the moment—something with jousting and fire and circus performers—and we made our way toward the back of the crowd. The skirt of your dress was large enough that it obscured the worst of your awkward, bow-legged waddle, but it was still a slow process. Your hand never left your belly, as if supporting it from the base would somehow relieve some of the force of the pressure bearing down within it.

Most people’s attention was on the performers, but we did garner a few nervous glances as those closest to us saw your restless shifting form and heard your grunts.

“Are you alright?” asked one of them, who was wearing a ridiculous feathered cap and carrying some sort of wooden instrument, eventually whispered when you were bent over and gasping after a particularly brutal contraction.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile and a strained, “Fine.” They glanced to me for confirmation; I shrugged, but couldn’t quite hide my growing anxiety.

The concerned bard remained undecided, but kept an eye on you, and when you dropped to your knees a few contractions later, determined that it warranted a trip to the medical tent. The bard tried to help you back to your feet, but you had decided that you weren’t going anywhere. You screamed when they tried to lift you, loud enough to stop the production mid-charge, and all eyes in the large stadium turned to gape at you. “I’m- I’m having a baby!” you yell, for the sake of anyone not close enough to see what was happening.

The elaborate ties of your dress were already loosened and askew from our previous activities, so it was easy enough to subtly work the laces and slide the fabric from your upper body. It looked like an accident when the heavy textiles fell dramatically around your kneeling form, exposing your full, heavy breasts and huge belly. I knelt beside you, as if making moves to preserve your modesty, but you lurched forward suddenly onto your hands, the dress falling down your thighs and exposing the rest of you.

The restricting fabric prevented your knees from widening as they needed to, and you begged me to get it the rest of the way off you. I helped you crawl forward a step and as a result your legs were blissfully free, but this position hid the spectacle from your audience.

You grabbed for me and held as you got your feet under you, lowering into a deep squat with your breasts, belly, and pussy facing out toward the crowd. You moved my hands to your inner thighs, forcing them open wider and pulling open your dilated folds, and pushed.

The realisation of what just happened seemed to ripple through the crowd - the immediate people around us either recoiling in shock, or many grabbing their phones and hitting record.

As much as you were incredibly turned on by the attention you were getting, the force of the contraction making you to push out our baby was a significantly more pressing concern. You bellow out, completely uncaring who hears it “this hurts more than anything I’ve ever done… labouring all day… it’s just…” your voice was cut short as you simply howled in pain as your eyes closed and you bore down, desperate to move the blockage between your legs.

As the contraction began to fade and you started to regain your senses your head turned towards me, you had tears in your eyes. “Help me” you managed pitifully.

I managed to lean in close to you so my whispering voice could only be heard by you “how are you feeling? Is this just an act or does it hurt?”

“It fucking hurts…” your reply had tones of desperation in it. The next contraction was quick to pick up and you were soon pushing again, a bulge visible between your wide splayed legs suggesting the head was going to be very big.

“Here here now you poor baby, let’s see if we can help you” came a voice. I looked up, and you managed the same to see an older woman - 60s or older - pushing her way through the crowds and trying to force - unsuccessfully - to make those recording the spectacle on their phones stop and give you a little dignity.

She grunted with exertion as she kneeled down between your legs, her hands reaching down to the bulge, surprisingly chilly against your hot, distended skin. You shivered - I was trying to work out if it was through the ministrations of the lady who walked up touching your sensitive areas, or you had just orgasmed from the attention you were getting.

“I’ve pushed out 8 babies myself and caught 5 grand babies from my daughters” she offered “so these hands are good hands and know what to do.”

“What do I do?” you asked, echoing her words back to her.

She chuckled and gave me a wry smile. “In my experience—and from the looks of it, yours too—whatever your body tells you.”

“Oh god,” you groaned, the pressure bearing down between your hips insisting that you bear down with it. “I need to- I need—“

“Baby’s head’s right there, I think you’re safe to push whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m not ready! It wasn’t supposed to be like this; there’s so many—hnghhh, fuck—people!” Your words dissolved into moans as you yanked desperately against my flared knees, but all that did was pull taut your skin and emphasize just how small your opening was in comparison to the large head bulging behind it.

“That’s it, let it stretch,” the woman soothed, running her fingers along the edges of the modest crown. You pressed yourself into her touch and she hummed in recognition. “Nothing to be self-conscious of here, dear. Do whatever feels good for you; it’s all natural.”

You brought your fingers to your clit and rubbed a few quick circles before the stimulation became too much. You cradled your belly as you pushed, but your hands soon wandered to your breasts, your nipples, and the resulting whines were a mix of pleasure and pain.

“It’s too big!” You wailed between pushes, looking to me in desperation. “It hurts. It’s burning, please, do something.”

I looked to the woman and she shrugged. “She’s the boss.”

I looked warily around at the many pairs of eyes fixed on us, but they faded into the background as soon as I wrapped my body around yours. You took one of my hands in yours and guided the other one between your legs as another shot of pain jolted out from your stomach, up your spine and through your hips. I thumbed gently at your sensitive nub and explored the changes in the folds that I knew so well.

“Help me stretch.” came your plea.

I dipped a finger under your stretched skin, gently tracing the cap of our baby’s head. Another contraction started and you pushed, my fingertips spreading you open even wider than the head. I pulled away quickly at your pained yelp, but it had helped—the head was staying put now, even between pushes.

“It’s stuck, it’s- I’m going to tear!”

“Oh no you don’t,” the woman said, getting her hands in the way between us, taking back up their work with the emerging head. She placed her palm flat against the exposed crown, applying a fairly firm pressure to keep it from coming out even as I continued to stretch painfully around it—prolonging the torture. “Pant. Pant, now,” she instructed.

“Please, I need to push, let me push!” you whined, unable to resist your body’s urges. You bore down again, but she just pressed in harder as you cried out as the two impossible pressures clashed right at the peak of your pain.

I had managed to get myself out of her way and resulted in getting directly behind you. You shoved your hips back, desperate to retreat from her iron grip, and your ass rubbed against my hard cock. You hear me whisper a string of curses and ground harder against my hips—if you had to suffer on the precipice of release, so would I.

You shuddered and relaxed a bit as the contraction waned, and the woman likewise relaxed her grip against you. There were a few gasps as she pulled her hand away and the crowd got an unobstructed view of the massive crowning head.

The view of a couple of flashes from people’s cameras were ingrained in your mind as you sit there, panting, the few moments of respite between contractions giving you little time to pant through and get some energy back before you needed to push again.

You leaned back against me, rubbing my engorged cock between your body and the fabric of my jeans. I let out a little groan as I felt myself approach my own little precipice.

The next contraction ramped up though and more of the same happened again - the desperate need to do nothing else but push, and this random stranger lady pressing back against all your effort.

You lost it as the frustration toppled you, all focus on the pain radiating between your belly and your legs, and this woman who was actively trying to make it harder for you.

“Let me push!” You screamed between gasps of the contraction as she just tutted at you.

“Don’t be a baby dearie” she took it in her stride. “I’ll let you stretch nice and slow so you don’t tear. You have a big one here.”

“Please!” You gasped, “Please… I’ll tear, I just need it out and you’re stopping me.” The last word was a chilling wail.

Despite your obvious discomfort my own sordid desires were being tweaked simply by the amount of effort you were putting in. Your body pressed back into me as you undertook push after push, my cock getting rubbed more and more.

I felt myself release as you wailed out. My cock pulsing and throbbing as each squirt filled my underwear. I felt it run down my leg. I pulled you in close grabbing your hands and crossing them over your chest pulling you tight against me as I hoped that there was no evidence of the leak on my trousers with all the cameras trained on us right now.

My shiver wasn’t missed by you as you look up in my eyes, meeting me with a weary but loving grin, for a few moments you smiled until the smile was replaced by a scowl as once more it was time to push.

Your body twisted and trembled as the war against instinct continued. Your hands grasped at nothing as you sought an outlet for the pent up energy you couldn’t focus into your core—your fingers clawed at my hair, the grass, the fabric of your discarded dress, the tight skin of your stomach.

“Fuck this hurts,” you huffed, more for me than for the onlookers. Then, louder, “Another contraction, already?”

You reached a shaking, tentative hand between your legs, brushing the woman’s aside and winced as your fingers grazed the tender flesh. It bowed and flexed with the force of the contraction alone and you whimpered as your lips peeled slowly back around the widest part of the head.

“Alright, now we’ve got ‘em right where we want ‘em. Give it all you’ve got, honey!” I almost hissed the words trying to keep it quiet enough that only you could hear.

In your opinion, sweeter words had never been spoken and wasted no time putting your chin to your chest and giving a hard shove. In a cruel twist of fate, the baby now seemed content to stay right where it was. You tried again, pushing harder this time, and howled in frustration when it didn’t budge.

“Come on now, girl, push!” came the woman, I had echoed something similar.

“I’m trying, it’s- fuck, it’s really stuck!”

After another two contractions of stalled progress, she finally believed me. “How about we get you on your feet,” she suggested. “Come on now, help her up,” she prompted, but I froze, keeping you tight against me.

“My- I can’t,” I whispered frantically in your ear, and you nodded— you understood.

You waited for the next contraction, took a deep breath, and leaned forward putting everything into the push, making an effort to make sure that the lady’s hands wouldn’t get in the way of this push. Your hips lifted just enough so they were hovering on top of my crotch and you screamed, all the anxious and excited attention fuelling another mighty push as the head shot out the rest of the way with an impressive gush of fluids… which sprayed across the entire front of my trousers, concealing and blending with any other stains that might have been present.

“Fuck,” you gasped, both in surprise and relief, as you got the rest of the way to your feet. Then an agonized, “Fuck!” as the baby spun and the shoulders settled quickly and violently into place against your tortured hole. You bent my knees and braced your palms against your thighs as you started to push again.

The lady beckoned me forward and I dashed around from behind you to kneel in front, hands poised in place just under the dangling head of our baby.

Now at eye level with your pussy, I watched as the shoulders bulged and gravity threatened to pull the heavy child the rest of the way out. “What should I do?” I asked the old woman, though my eyes never left you.

“Catch!” she said with a laugh, and I raised your hands just in time for the baby to slide into my grasp.

Your yell of triumph was magical as the vernix-covered baby slid into my hands, the lady, unexpectedly diving forward to catch you under the arms as you sagged, threatening to collapse with the effort. You were gasping, panting for air, you were shell shocked, but one thing was clear – you had realised you had done it. My god you were grinning.

The lady helped lower you to the ground as I held on for dear life to our baby – a daughter – my eyes weirdly focused on the umbilical cord connecting the small bundle in my hands to your gaped opening.

“Shit” was all I could mutter.

“Shit, indeed” you echoed.

You realised a blanket was suddenly placed over your shoulders as paramedics arrived, covering you up from the gawping onlookers. You’d done it. You had your dream. You’d given birth in front of a crowd. No doubt Youtube and who knows what other sites will be flooded with footage of this tomorrow. At least we know we will have a record of our birth.

The baby was taken from me as her umbilical cord was cut, and she was checked over. I sat next to you in a daze as paramedics helped check you over.

He was in his tower, gathering all the ingredients.

He felt it right away. It started as a tiny tingling feeling somewhere deep inside him.

”Oh dear”, Gale gasped, placing a hand on his lower belly. Excitement shone on his face. The feeling inside intensified until it was almost like bubbling. He didn’t know if it was supposed to do that. The feeling only grew stronger and was starting to get uncomfortable.

”Ouhh…” he moaned, rubbing his belly. It was gurgling quite loudly. Frowning, he pressed into his belly. It felt firmer.

Suddenly he felt his belly grow right underneath his palm. There was no mistaking it. He brought his other hand to his middle as well. Eyes wide in alarm he stood still and felt what was happening in his body. His belly surged outwards again.

”No!” Gale exclaimed, grabbing the scroll and searching it for a spell to nullify whatever was happening to him. He moaned as he felt his robes hug his expanding stomach tightly. He was well past someone who’d had a decent sized 12-course meal. By the time he’d reached the end of the scroll with no signs of a reverse spell, his belly was making the buttons on his purple tunic strain.

”Shit! Shit shit shit…” he hissed, throwing the scroll away. His hands returned to his belly, pressing into it to try to stop the growing. It felt heavy and solid. A button popped and Gale moaned. He stumbled to a mirror to look upon himself in horror.

He was resembling a woman carrying a child. His belly was rounding out well past his frame. Mouth agape he noticed something else as well. The black wisps of the Weave marked upon his face and neck were withdrawing.

”By the hells it’s working!” He gasped, hardly able to believe his eyes. The marks that were once reaching his face now stopped by his jaw and he could see the color withdraw ever lower. It was slow, but surely happening.

”It’s consuming the Weave…” he moaned as he looked at his belly through the mirror when it surged outwards again.

Brow furrowed tightly in worry and pain he looked. He looked as the buttons of his tunic gave up one at a time and the fabric opened to reveal skin that was stretched tight as a drum over a too-large stomach. As the tunic parted violently, his belly lurched outwards, making Gale moan out of breath. His fingers felt his growth by pressing into it. It was too hard, too heavy. The weight of it was starting to strain his back. It was warm, almost hot to the touch and as he looked, he saw his skin break into tens of angry stretch marks as the swelling inside was too much for it.

“Ouhh, hng… it’s worki— argh!” He screamed out as his hands held onto his growing abdomen for dear life, but whatever was inside did not care. It reached out, stretching his skin to its limits.

”Agh, stop… stop”, he moaned pathetically, trying to push down on his belly to keep it from expanding any more.

Looking down on himself, he gasped in horror at the sight of his huge stomach. As his gaze lifted to the mirror, his mouth fell open in terror. It looked as if there was at least one full grown baby inside him, if not two. His skin looked thin and frail, as if close to tearing open. The stretch marks only deepened, turning almost into purple streaks that littered across the whole dome of his stomach. At the centre there was his belly button that had popped out from the sheer pressure.

Gale’s legs gave out from underneath him as he watched. His purple tunic framed the expanse of white skin as he sat on his knees on the floor. His cancerous growth was pulsating on his lap, and with each pulse it grew in size, the streaks of the Weave were withdrawing. It was nearing the centre of the Weave on his chest. Seconds ticked by as he stared. Fear was gripping his heart as the streak disappeared wholly and only the centre was left.

The black mark on his chest seemed to tremble, and at the same time his belly tightened into a cramp.

”Ahh!” He hissed and rubbed his itchy skin. It really felt like it would tear open any second. The Weave trembled once again and then Gale saw it. It got smaller, like it was withdrawing into his skin. It was slow at first but after a second it got sucked inside so fast he couldn’t believe his eyes.

The effect in his belly was instantaneous. His belly lurched outwards violently. Gale couldn’t stop the scream from tearing from his throat as his midsection spread to every direction. Outwards, upwards, to the sides. It pressed downwards with such force that it forced his legs open. The huge mound grew so tight that it pushed Gale on his back. It was filling every inch inside him. He was unable to bend at all. He moaned on his back on the floor, hands trying to hold on to the sides of his enormous belly. Tears were flowing from his eyes. It hurt so much. Surely he would die.

Then the growth stopped. For almost an hour he lay there weeping. His skin felt so frail, so itchy. The mass was pressing on his organs, making it hard to breathe. Slowly he pushed himself to his side and watched as the tight drum of his belly pressed into the wooden floor.

He breathed in and out. Focusing only on the tightness in his lungs with every breath. He turned his head slowly, fearing any movement would cause his skin to tear open. As his eyes landed on his image on the surface of the mirror, his breath caught in his throat. It was unnatural. Surely it shouldn’t have been possible for a human’s skin to withstand such growth. No woman could ever carry as many babes as would fit inside his horrid growth.

He watched in silence as his belly moved. Or whatever was inside moved. It made his skin bulge out and he gasped in pain. His whole belly rippled then, a strong vibration throughout the whole expanse of his abdomen. And then the thing cramped. His stretched muscles contracted so hard he couldn’t breathe.

He felt pressure in his lower back, and as he lifted his leg up to create space, his anus opened to allow an explosion of something to exit.

”Aughh! Oh gods…” he whined as his hand went to his soaked trousers and came back covered with black slime. ”Shit shit shit… it’s gonna come out.” Gale mumbled in pure panic. His belly contracted again and more slime flowed from his ass.

Lying on his side with his rock hard belly forcing the mass inside lower, Gale grabbed his thigh to bring his leg higher up. He was moaning as the pressure moved lower and lower, breathing erratic. It was difficult to know what was happening, the presence inside his gut so overwhelming. It felt like it reached every part inside.

”Whoa! Ouhh!” He yelled as without a warning his anus opened up around something. The stretch was sharp and painful, but at the same time the mass massaged his prostate and made him moan. The feeling stirred up his cock despite the panic and fear.

”Alright alright… it’s coming out now!” Gale reassured himself as his belly tightened again. ”Just… push…” And push he did. The mass surged outwards, the girth of it growing in size. His anus quivered as it stretched around it. His trousers bulged from where it pressed against the fabric.

He lay there for hours pushing, soaked in sweat, tears and black slime. The exit of the mass slowed down only when his trousers were completely filled. The backside of the leather pants was so tight that with the next contraction and push the seam ripped right open. What flowed out was not what Gale had expected. It was like a snake. Black as the Weave itself and thicker than his forearm. And it only got thicker as he kept pushing. His cock twitched in his ruined trousers as he watched his ass stretch around the thing. First the girth of his arm, then calf. His anus strained as he felt a larger mass inside.

”Hnnngggh!” Gale groaned as he heaved. It was huge, bulbous and it was stuck just behind his entrance. Slowly his ass opened around it, like a child’s head crowning. The snake’s body widened into the thickness of his thigh, and when it finally popped out, his cock erupted into a blinding orgasm and with the contractions inside his anal passage and his belly, the rest of the snake was pushed out in a couple of seconds. The speed of it was excruciating, rubbing his rim raw and eliciting another orgasm from the wizard. He felt his belly sag as it was emptied, right before sleep took over him.

He didn’t know how long he was out, but when he came to, there was no snake. But there was no Weave either. There was only the ruined, horribly stretched skin of his abdomen littered with stretch marks, and the aching hollow of his anus.

It was late morning already when Aldoran forced his tired and pained body out of the bed. His belly hung so low, but it was rigid with a contraction, and Aldoran fought against pushing. He rubbed his belly and dressed into a simple robe. He had to eat.

Walking was a shameful thing in his condition. His belly was so heavy that the king had to carry it with his hands, and now the metal ring spreading his anus open, forcing him to waddle even wider than before. He could feel fluid dripping from his gaping hole with every contraction. He couldn’t keep from pushing as he walked, but he kept them short and gentle. 

Breakfast was served for him as he arrived in the dining hall. He looked at the food, leaning on the table for support while approaching his seat. 

”Ouhh!” Aldoran moaned as he sat down heavily, the contraption in his ass feeling unnatural in every possible way. ”Ahhh…” his hips bucked, hard cock searching for some friction. Oh, what he wouldn’t have done to have something fill his opening. Preferably his baby. 

Breakfast was slow to progress. He was struggling to eat as his belly contracted. He had to hurry, as he was to meet a lord soon after, and he still had to change his clothes.

His servant had picked out a robe for him. It was a glorious golden shade with metal ornaments along the whole front. Lacing in the back made it all the more beautiful. Struggling to fit into his robe while his anus was constantly stretched open was torturous. Once the robe was on him, a servant took up the task of lacing the back tightly. Aldoran moaned as pressure increased in his belly each time the servant tightened the laces. The metal detailing in the front of the robe didn’t allow room for any expansion. 

He had asked the servant not to tie it up so tight, and still, once the robe was on him, his belly was tighter than a drum against the fabric and its detailing. 

The elegantly dressed lord of his kingdom was waiting for him at the meeting table when Aldoran finally made it to the chamber. He tried to stand with his head held high, but the compression of his clothes on his contracting belly made him want to curl forward. 

”King Aldoran, thank you for meeting me”, the lord said as he stood up upon seeing his king. He bowed his head, but Aldoran saw the scrutinous look that he gave at his midsection. 

”Please”, Aldoran said and motioned him to sit back down, ”how may I help you. Is everything alright?” He tried to hide how difficult walking was for him. One foot in front of the other, he made his way to the opposite side of the meeting table. His belly was so tight, his ass so stretched as he sighed and sat down. He wanted to moan, but did not. 

As he sat, he could feel the pressure inside him growing as the fabric and metal detailing of his robe bunched up and pulled downwards. 

”Yes, my king, everything is fine. I was sent here by the council of the lords and ladies to check on you. To our understanding, your labor so far has not progressed quite as expected.”

Aldoran’s eyebrows shot up. They’d noticed. 

”No, no no, everything is perfectly fine and progressing as should. Maybe ever so slightly slow to our liking, but progressing nevertheless.” Aldoran responded, waiving his hand in dismissal. He steeled his face against the agony his tight robes caused him, paired with the contraction that now squeezed his womb as well. His anus twitched around the stretching mechanism, and the king’s hand went to hold his belly.

”Oh? Would you mind describing your progression, my king? The council will be happy to hear of it!” 

Aldoran smiled even as his teeth were grinding against each other as his body forced him to push. He could feel the mass inside his passage move lower by the second. The pressure of his tight robe pressed down on the huge mound of flesh and kept moving it lower and lower. 

”Of course!” The king chimed. He breathed deeply as he pushed again, gripping the table. ”Or even better, I can show you. Have the council fetched here and you just might see the birth tonight. The head is about to come out!” 

The face of the council member lit up as he stood and bowed, scurrying towards the door. 

”Oughhhhh…” Aldoran moaned now that he was alone, and immediately regretted inviting the council to watch. He would have to stay elegant, stay effortless. The king’s hands flew to palpate his belly. It was so tight against the embroidered tunic that he wasn’t able to make even the slightest dent in the dome. And it was so low. The huge mass inside his pelvis made it impossible to close his legs. 

If he could just birth the child before the council arrived. 

Aldoran moaned as he hurriedly stood up, the momentum causing an uncomfortable churn inside him. He heaved against the table, belly hanging heavy from his middle. Back arched, he pushed with the next contraction. A sharp grunt forced itself from the king’s throat as the stretching device clattered to the floor.

He didn’t bother to quiet down his moans as he felt the head of the baby closing in on his entrance. He brought his hand underneath the hem of the tunic and found his leaking anus. Oh gods, how his flesh was swollen and bulged out. The head felt huge, almost impossibly so. But he could feel the hot skin of his child inside, and as he pushed, it came closer. 

”Hoooo!” He heaved, grasping the table white-knuckled, knees bending to make more space in his hips. He was practically squatting in the meeting hall, hand feeling his anus, cock hard and dripping against his belly, as his asshole slowly but surely opened up to accommodate the emerging child.

”Oh I can feel it!” King Aldoran moaned at the feeling, ass twitching and trembling. 

”It’s coming outtttt!” He groaned low in his throat as the burning stretch assaulted his senses. ”Ooooh…. Ah…” moaning openly, lewd and wanton as his hips bucked to rub his cock against the hot skin of his belly, Aldoran pushed to birth his baby. The stretching was horrible, his rim burning. His lips were drawn into a grimace as he hissed through the pain. 

The door to the hall opened and the council, consisting of highly esteemed lords and ladies of the kingdom, as well as some friends and advisors, pooled in. Aldoran bit his lip as he stifled a scream from tearing from his throat as his anus opened around the babe’s head. The council watched in silence as the backside of the king's tight tunic began to bulge. It was slight at first, but as the king pushed, more and more started to show. 

It was clear there was progress now.

The council was suddenly surrounding the king, watching without blinking as his hands gripped the edge of the table and he squatted low. His large belly was protruding like a torpedo between his bent knees. It was mesmerizing. They had never witnessed a birth so difficult. The babe had to be large and strong to make their king struggle so. 

The king pushed, face reddening with effort. 

Then suddenly he screamed, his hips bucking one final time, and he collapsed to the ground, on his hands and knees. The backside of his tunic was straining with a bulge so big that it was obvious to everyone what had happened. The front of the fabric was stained with a wet splotch where the king had ejaculated while birthing the head. 

“It’s out… it’s out”, the king panted, exhausted. He reached for the tunic’s hem and struggled to pull it over his arse. 

Everyone in the room gasped as the babe’s head was revealed, for it was not a head. 

From inside the king’s obscenely stretched anus, parting his smooth ass cheeks, was a pair of legs and the bottom half of a torso. 

“It’s the wrong way!” Someone yelled in horror. One of the ladies was already halfway to the door, her mission to tell the entire kingdom what was going on inside the castle. 

“What?” Aldoran moaned as his belly tightened again in a contraction. His hand flew to touch between his legs and indeed found… legs. 

Dylan had spent hours panting and moaning, grabbing at his lips to feel for a head that was stubbornly stagnant in its arrival. He moaned louder, making Grant’s heart beat fast in his chest as he fanned Dylan. Dylan panted, his eyes half lidded and watery as he glanced up at Grant. “Mmmn…” He moaned out, and Grant slicked his overgrown back hair back, drenched with sweat. Dylan closed his eyes again, letting his head lull backwards, floppy and resigned. Grant could see his whole body heaving with his labored breathing, one hand floating back between his legs to feel for progress. 

He saw Dylan’s eyes close fully now, as his body lurched with a powerful but brief push, resulting in a gasp and shuddering moan. “Mmmn.. Fuck..” He moaned out, rubbing his bulging lips softly. His voice quivered and his moans seemed to start lower and lower in his throat as he vocalized. In all of their months of preparation, Grant still did not anticipate Dylan taking such pleasure in his labor. He thought it a myth for most of Dylan’s pregnancy. Orgasmic labor; Almost incomprehensible, conceptually. But seeing Dylan writhe and shudder, playing with his vulva and labia, his cock growing firmer and bigger as the hours came, he was certainly influenced. He found himself taking pleasure in each sound and moan his partner made, savoring those last hours with their child in his womb. 

Dylan’s head rotated side to side softly, his belly shifting with effort. His belly button poked out as he pushed hard, and relaxed as he panted after the exertion. Grant pet Dylan’s forehead, giving it a soft kiss, feeling the wetness of his partner’s sweat. Dylan opened his eyes again, halfway, and looked at his partner. “Ohh, babe..” He breathed out, pausing to stroke his dick, moaning again. “Feels so fucking good..” He said, rubbing circles around his bottom growth, the head bulging him out impossibly. “Ohhh, baby’s so lowwww… Ohhhhh, baby… Ohhhh…” Dylan moaned out, rolling his hips again, feeling the stretch of their baby grow and grow. Grant began stripping down, getting in the pool and letting his partner rest against his chest. 

“Ohhhhh, I wanna pushhh… OHHhhHhh… Granttt… Mmnn..” Dylan vocalized wildly, his body trembling with a mix of endorphins, excitement and the slightest bit of fear. Grant rubbed Dylan’s belly, knowing that it would soon be gone. “Let’s meet them, baby,” He whispered to Dylan, who exhaled deeply, moaning more. “I wanna have more babies, Grant… Give me more babies… Mmmhnnn.. Let’s have more babies, mmmnnn!” Dylan begged, between loud moans of pleasure and grunts from his pushes. Grant locked lips with Dylan, who pulled only slightly away every few seconds to cry out loud, his vagina feeling extremely huge with the crowning head. Its stretch was immense, and made him cry out, his moans wavering and vibrating as they shifted to something purer than sex for both men. 

Grant found himself holding his own breath as Dylan pushed. He felt lightheaded as the two of them shared this intimate moment alone in their living room, dimly lit as it transformed into a platform between two lives. He had to tell himself to breathe, just as Dylan had to manually shift his own breaths, accommodating for the space the baby occupied between his pale thighs. Grant placed his hands on Dylan’s bump, feeling the strain of his pushes. Dylan was now babbling incomprehensibly, eyes closed as he took in the moment. His voice cracked as he keened, the push abruptly stopping as the head exploded out from his vagina, huge and beautiful, making Dylan cry tears of ecstasy. Grant held him, amazed by his body, feeling himself get harder and wetter as well.