He would look better pregnant

I'll be blabbering about all things related to expectant men and their gravid guts. Personal opinions, thoughts, and stories made by me are to be expected.

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• Adult space. You bettrer not enter if not 18+.

• I objectify men here, obviously. Although feel free to image whatever is here however you want.

• Whatever appears here can be considered a kink. If that bothers you, you enter at your own risk.

• Contents of the pregnancy may vary. Babies, monsters, eggs, objects, other beings... anything that fills his womb for a long time.

• Gates are open of you want to send Requests, Asks, Suggestions or just wanna talk some mpreg. (Please start the message with something more than only a greeting or I might not reply. It's awkward.)

• Most likely not interested in roleplay.

Entire sports team, knocked up by their captain.

Or...

Sports team captain, knocked up by his entire team.

Now I need a man whose shirt literally tears apart from his belly growing so fast.

Even before he can take a step, his stomach is already large, visible through the large holes and broken seams in his top.

And I mean THE death, Grim Reaper himself, nothing but bones dressed in black.

For his robe to heavily hand over the curve of his belly as arrives to reap. Scythe in one hand, the other on the curve of his stomach. Menacing presence turned non-threatening and borderline adorable thanks to a very obviously gravid womb nobody expected him to have.

His target more infatuated than scared, doubting the rules of reality itself with a quesion "How can death be knocked up?!"

Fed up, Grim asks for their final words, to which asks of they can touch it, a request he's not willing to grant as he cuts the life from his target.

As he departs to deal with the next, he murmurs in annoyence, knowing that his next target will also demand to rub his belly. Hardly he hears anything else from his targets since this became visible, not even screams or begs like he's used to.

Drought season hit hard a local village. Acres upon acres of soil, ready for sawing but lacking the water to do so.

Desperate, the farmers pray to their god for a fertile rain, powerful enough to bring new life onto the dried out fields. For weeks, every moment of their waking days, the men spent begging for divine intervation.

And then, one day, it comes. Rain like never before sweeping through the area, ending the draught then and there.

Even before the downpour ends, the farmers can be seen already working their once-dried fields, now blooming and growing in tempo never seen before.

But it wasn't just crops that suddenly started to grow, as all the men working fields during the storm also ended up noticeably rounder once they returned homes to rest.

The weather left the fields revitilised for months to come, the divine intervention causing them grow in abundance... just like the farmers' waistlines.

Stomachs perpetually growing alongside their crops, it didn't take long for everyone to figure out that the 'fertile rain' they have all prayed for might have been taken too literally by their god, not only fertilising their lands, but also all those men who prayed and dared to stand in it.

Everything being totally fine and normal, until one moment comes. Out of nowhere, he just knows he's pregnant despite never having a partner.

Soft slithering limbs birrowing below his outfit, curiously they explore the surface of his skin.

Side to side he sways and struggles, futile efforts to free himself from the tendrils' grasp.

The creature strangely amused, though not by the moans and grunts of his struggle. Its attention drawn by the peculiar wobbles of his distended stomach following the erratic movements of his body.

Determined to witness more, the limbs pulled away the fabrics of their subject's clothes, the curved surface of his belly exposed for further observation.

For a moment, the being stopped, its movement ceased as if eyeslessly observing the scene in front. Swollen orb of a gut hanging heavily from the man's frame, so vulnurable yet powerfull.

Slightly higher, his chest breathing deep and quick, a sign that his body taken its meeded break from the struggle. Above all, face contorted into a mischievously wicked grin, not from discomfort or exhaustion, but and regrettable enjoiment of not being the one in charge.

The brief inspection leaving the thing yearning even more, it pulls its examinee's legs upwards for a new angle of observation.

He grunts and he growls, the weight in his body shifting with the whim of the other until his back bends inwards from the immense pull downwards by his dangling belly.

With the new position, the man's stomach redefined, reaching shape rounder and even on all sides, much to the amusement of his captor.

Finally reaching curiosity beyond mere watching, a wayward tentacle pokes onto his belly and immidietly contracts back, it's expectations of soft and squishy surface met by strange tenderness instead.

As the initial shock ceased, the appendage is back and pressed onto the strange surface of its subject, point by point exploring every inch of it.

Smooth skin stretched over the outward stomach, the tendril moved along its area, amused by its peculiarity. The man moaned in reaction to the touch, rubbing movements pleasant enough for him to relax.

And then, unexpected, an equal force pushing from within the man's belly. Every touch, every place, the outward movement reacted, meeting the tentacle wherever it went.

Entertained by the behaviour, more of the tentacles joined the game, all pressing onto the surface of the man's gut, unaware that they have caused the first movement from the pregnancy he carries within his womb.

As the creature's atention diverged onto the play, its grip has been loosened upon the man, granting him a chance to free himself, should he want to.

Dressed in naught but his underwear, he sat there in semi-darkness. Heavy womb spreading his legs apart, his belly glossed in sweat like glitter, the cargo withn restlessly thumbling to disapprove of the heat.