I Cant Stop

You'd been hanging out all day, watching him sweat and pant, seeing his whole body tense over and over as the contractions got stronger, closer. You'd helped him out of his shirt, biting your lip as you saw his hairy, post-top-surgery chest. His nipples were longer, thicker, so dark they were almost black. His areola had spread over the space as well, deep brown blotches under his body hair.

You could see the little ways this pregnancy had violated him. The remains of his breast tissue had swollen, rounded his chest awkwardly, in a way you'd never notice unless you were looking for it... But you were, and so was he. You so badly wanted to caress that firm bulge, tell him how amazing he looked. To kiss over his hairy baby belly and reassure him that this is an amazing thing, that even if he doesn't want it, it's good this is happening to him.

Labor continued. Worsened. He began to moan with the contractions, sweat beading on his forehead and over his body. "I can't do this... I don't want to do this..." He whimpered, tears running into his facial hair as his belly visibly shrank.

It was almost time. You helped him out of his pants and boxers, taking more time than you had to. Savoring the act of exposing him. You had to bite back a moan when, between his shorts and boxers being pulled down, another contraction came. "They're so close..." He groaned, clinging to your shoulders. "I can't do this... This isn't fair, I don't want a baby, I don't want to give birth!"

You know he must be so open inside. So close to delivering this burden he'd been made to carry. Even knowing he wouldn't keep it, you knew neither of you would ever forget today, that this had happened.

His t-dick, his pregnant pussy, took your breath away. He was so masculine, yet so maternal, and you could tell he knew it. Felt trapped between the two. This cruel reminder of what he was born as, this reality of his body.

It's not long after that when it begins for real. "Oh gods..." He sobs, leaning back on his arms on the edge of his bed. "I don't want to be a mommy... I don't want to... Push out a baby..." He grunts, as you see his face scrunched with effort, notice his toes curling, hands gripping the sheets.

"puuuush, that's a good boy, let it happen..." The words escape your mouth without thinking, so horny you want to cry. He doesn't have any choice but to listen to you now. He draws his legs up slightly, the most desperate, primal grunt rippling out from his chest.

"That's right, that's my pushy boy... It must feel so intense... The head moving?" You ask, and he nods, belly relaxing, a short rest between labor pains. "You're so close now..." You purr, touching his belly, and he shakes his head. "Don't want to be... Don't want this baby... Don't want to be a... A m-mommy... Don't want... To open FOR IT!"

He pushes anyway. You gasp, "good job! Don't fight it, don't fight it, let it come out just like that!" Escaping you once more as this violation of a birth overtakes him.

It's not long before his T-dick is angling up, his pussy bulging around the massive head. You take his hand, make him touch it without thinking, and a broken sob escapes him "fuck fuck fuck, I can't be giving birth, this can't be real, I don't fucking want to give birth, I don't WANT THIS!"

Another ugly, primal grunt of effort rips from his core, and his crotch bulges more. His lips spread. Slimy wet hair peeks out from inside, you can see the child he never wanted starting to inch out of his body. The most intimate gift he could give, taken against his will.

"don't make me, I don't want toooo..." He growls, bearing down as his handsome face scrunches. This masculine bear of a trans man struggling to give birth in front of you. It's stunning. Him not wanting it only makes it feel all the more perfect. Of course he hates this, of course he doesn't want this baby, that's how it's supposed to be... That's how it always was going to happen for him, this was meant to be, you can feel it deep inside.

This is going to be your friends most beautiful, most sexual, most intimate moment of his life. And he chose to share it with you.

You can't help but feel blessed.

The wet sliver becomes a teardrop. The next push bulges the teardrop into a wide, violatingly painful O. As he screams in agony and effort, that O bursts, gushing amniotic fluid as the head of his unwanted baby pops free.