don't let the aesthetics fool you, this is an nfsw blog

one day, as she’s trying to get me ready to go to my lessons, she starts explaining how i’m going to need this stuff when i’m queen, but i tell her i’m just going to have advisors to do all of that for me

“So then what purpose do you serve?”

“What do you mean?”

“If your advisors are the ones making all of the decisions because you know nothing, then what are you there for?”

“Well, I’m the princess, silly!”

as we’re talking i’m halfway under the bed looking for a bra, so i don’t see her walking up to stand behind me. she’s staring at my ass, panties just a little visible bc my nightgown is riding up.

“Your highness, do you know what I call a lady who has no real talents outside of sitting still and looking pretty?”

before i can answer, she grabs my waistband and yanks my panties up my ass hard enough for my head to hit the underside of the bed.

“A whore. And whores—“ she’s punctuating her words with tugs “—do not get to wear modest underwear. They wear little strips of fabric that leave little to the imagination.”

at first i’m taken aback, but as she keeps tugging, it starts to feel good. she pulls me out from underneath the bed and makes me stand up before pushing me into the wall.

“And they don’t get to wear nice nightgowns either.” she grabs the top of my nightgown and rips, revealing my tits. i try to cover my chest, but she uses one hand to hold my wrists and the other to grope my boobs. it feels so so good and i start trying to rub myself against her like a bitch in heat.

“Don’t tell me you like this.”

“Please, please just let me- help me-“ i can’t even get the words out before she’s holding the front of my panties taut.

“I can’t believe you. You’re supposed to be a dignified lady, and here you are getting off on me treating you like a common whore.”

i don’t even have the mind to take offense, i’m just too busy chasing release. and soon enough i’m whining and making a mess of my panties.

“If I had known that this—“ she tugs my panties again “—was all it took to get you to behave, i would’ve done it years ago.”

she pushes me to the bed and forces me to sit down. “Stay. And don’t even think about picking those panties from between your lips.”

she leaves the room, and i sit there obediently in my mess. i know no one will walk in without asking first, but there’s something thrilling about the thought of another servant coming in and seeing me like this.

after a few minutes, she returns with books and scrolls of paper in her hand. “I’ve told your tutors you’re feeling under the weather and will be taking your lessons in your room today.”

she dumps her loot on my desk and then walks over to me. she grabs the front of my panties and tugs, using them like a leash. i whine and follow her, still sensitive from my orgasm.

she forces me down into my desk chair and switches her grip from the front to the back of my panties. she pulls them over the back of the chair and leaves them there. she stretched them out a little earlier, but i’m still sitting on a strip of fabric more than the chair itself. it’s more painful than pleasurable at this point.

“You have an hour to come up with a trade plan between us and our neighboring kingdom. If I’m not satisfied by your idea, I’ll hang you from the bed post and make you do it again.”

“But—“ she slaps me before i can continue.

“No buts. I’ve spent years trying to find a way to get you to listen. It’s no one’s fault but your own that that way happens to be brutalizing you.”

she starts to grope my chest again, this time fondling both of my nipples. “But if you do it right the first time, I’ll be sure the reward you. It’s up to you.”

At first, it’s not so bad, her powerful abs keeping her bump small and cute, and her dainty breasts blooming into respectable handfuls while her band size remains unchangingly slim.

At six months, she’s starting to feel the strain of her full womb on her body whenever she exercises, but her high-carried bump still isn’t big enough to be obvious to passersby. She concedes, as her boyfriend rubs her kicking belly, that maybe pregnancy isn’t so bad.

Then, her seventh month arrives, and her body finally folds. Her abdominal muscles give, and almost overnight, her perfect beach belly becomes a grotesque gut busting through the musculature of her torso, hanging so heavy and low that it stretches her skin to its limits. She whines and groans as she rubs restlessly at the fertile curve of her new body. She finds herself squirming at how horribly her belly itches, red with violent stretch marks and lumpy with varicose veins. Her attention is constantly drawn to the sharply defined shadow where her athletic body ends and her mommy belly begins.

Coming home to find your sub/slave hasn't done something they should have. Seeing the fear in their eyes as they go to run away. Grabbing them by the throat and dragging them into a room.

"Please please" they beg as tears form.

"Shhhh. Naughty dirty whores don't get to beg." They shake their head as you strap their hands to something. "Time for your punishment" you strike them. Thighs, stomach, breasts, face, they squirm and the strikes begin to descend. Breasts, stomach, clit, clit, clit. Over and over till they are screaming.

"Sir I don't want to be pregnant" they cry.

"You should have though about that." You pull out your thick errection already dripping. You pull their panties to the side and slam yourself into them. Hearing their cries as you begin violently thrusting.

"Sir, sir please, please let me swallow it."

"No, treats are for good pets." You cover their mouth as you relentlessly pound into them bruising their thighs with your hips until you feel the pressure build. Their eyes fill with tears as you swell inside them. Grabbing their hips and tilting them up so the cum reaches their womb you press deep inside of them streaming into their depths. You watch the light fade from their eyes as the cum begins leaking out of them. "You can't leave me now." You laugh as you drop their limp body. "A good pet would get pregnant now." You strike their cheek one more time. Their whimpers stirring you. You smile as your cock stands again. "Let's just be safe" you reenter their hole. This time they put up no fight as you thrust inside of them. Watching their breasts bounce as tears leak as you begin to swell again. You grunt as you empty yourself in them one more time.

"I'm, going to get pregnant" they whine

lying back on the examination table as a curtain is pulled in between me and the doctor. i feel him pull my legs into stirrups, hands running up my thighs as he secures them, my knees bent. he pushes my hospital gown up past my stomach next, leaving my pussy exposed to the cool sterile air. a bright light flicks on, shining at my cunt. i’m practically a glory hole like this. i try to shift, but the procedure has already started. gloved fingers press against my cock, and i barely manage to suppress a gasp. he’s walking me through the process, fingers poking carelessly against my sensitive clit as he says something about healthy clitoral stimulation. suddenly im grateful for the curtain, humiliated at how worked up i am from such a routine gynecologist exam. i bite back another whimper.

his fingers dip lower, rubbing two along my entrance. he braces me on examining my vaginal canal, warns me it might be a bit of a stretch, barely giving me time to prepare before he shoves to fingers into my hole. i’m fighting to hold back moans as he pounds into me, his fingers moving expertly to find my g-spot and slamming into it, all the while grinding his thumb against my clit. its all i can do to stop myself from cumming right then and there, eyes squeezed tight, trying so, so hard to stay quiet, to not cum on my gynecologists fingers when im suddenly tipping over the edge, unable to suppress a breathy whine. but he doesn’t stop. i cum again and again and again on his hand until i’ve forgotten to be quiet entirely, until i’m begging him to stop, until i’m bucking into his hand, until there’s a puddle beneath me.

"I didn't think so many people would be out today," Tasha murmured, suddenly self conscious of the white sundress she was wearing.

The sunlight had made it so easy to see the taut, stretchmark riddled skin of her dark brown belly with a close look. Ryan–her husband– had urged her to get out of the house these past few days as she inched closer to her 42nd week of pregnancy. She much preferred trying to bounce on a medicine ball in the privacy of her home rather being on display out in the open. But the former has proven useless in getting this baby wanting to come out.

"It's fine baby, no one's gawking," Ryan said, wrapping a comforting hand around her side. "And if they are they are admiring how beautiful you look."

Tasha allowed herself to relax into her husbands side. "If you say so..."

I lovvvvve a cheeky little drug swap >:3c I also love the idea of this pharmacist boyfriend getting ahead of things and sneaking me remedies so that I don’t really notice my morning sickness or the new aches and pains. He starts encouraging me to eat healthier, both for the baby’s sake and so that when my stomach bloats and flutters inside, he can say that it’s just all the fiber I’m taking in nowadays.

When my belly has grown so big and active that even I, gullible as I am, can no longer believe it’s just gas, I tell my boyfriend I’m gonna take a pregnancy test. He helpfully gets me a box from his job. I distrust the negatives i keep getting, but if I’m as far along as I feel, the only reason the tests would fail are if they’re expired, and when I look at the box, I find they’re well in-date. I don’t think about the fact that my boyfriend opened them in front of me, and how easy it would have been for him to fill the box with expired tests then just pretend like he was breaking the seal for the first time.

When the cramps start, I assume it’s my irregular period finally coming, further supported by my chest feeling tender and puffy. My caring boyfriend pampers me with hot water bottles and little treats that I’m not really hungry for. He tucks me into bed and turns on my favorite show, and I watch, wincing every few minutes at the pain deep inside me. After a few hours I call him over and tell him I’m worried I have an ovarian cyst, but he knows I’m afraid of hospitals, and exploits my fear to convince me to ride the pain out a little longer before we try the emergency room.

When the pressure inside me starts crushing painfully into my spine, towards my perineum, I think maybe I’m just having a bad case of PMS constipation, and I’m glad I didn’t go to the ER and embarrass myself. I’m already on my way to the bathroom when I start to feel the desperate need to push.

A half hour later, I call my boyfriend in, my exhaustion-paled face blotched with overheated red. Humiliated tears mingle with the sweat pouring down my face as I tell him something is wrong, that I think I need to go to the hospital for some kind of bowel problem. His eyes shine with what I perceive as love and concern as he helps me stand from the toilet. I groan as he pulls me up onto bowed legs, and grunt a deep animal noise at the sheer pressure and weight in my pelvis.

Pain seizes me—in my back, my belly, my pelvis, my hips, my inner thighs—and a strained little noise whistles from my throat as all the air goes from my lungs with an involuntary push so powerful that every muscle in my body locks tight. I throw my arms around his neck and press my scrunched face against his shirt, and he holds my arms steady and tells me I’m doing such a good job.

I don’t hear him, because the very last effort of my most recent heaving push turns the dense clenching pain into a burn between my legs. I shriek, then begin to wheeze as my head catches up to my body and I realize all at once that the oppressive feeling inside me is a baby, and the unbelievable fiery sensation is its head settling just inside my pussy lips.

My boyfriend tries fruitlessly to get me to breathe, but I’m still hyperventilating when the next contraction comes. I sob no, that this can’t be happening, I don’t want a baby, as my traitorous body wrings it lower, feeling like it’s tearing my crotch.

I reach a shaky, disbelieving hand around my heaving belly—my big, round, pregnant belly—and squeak in pain as my searching fingers find my cunt bulging horrifically. I whimper despaired whines and half-finished thoughts into my boyfriend’s shirt as I cup the grotesque deformation, my thighs trembling around it, this unwelcome passenger violating the very structure of my body, displacing my bones, threatening to rend my flesh.

I cling to my boyfriend, pitifully rock my hips, and weep as I slowly, slowly push out his big baby. The massive lump its head makes beneath my pussy lips grows larger and larger until finally I feel the flesh begin to spread, winking open around a strip of something hairy and slimy.

I start to sob no again, no, no, no, I don’t want it, I can’t keep pushing, it’s not fair! With his voice endlessly—even suspiciously—patient, my boyfriend asks if I want to push in an easier position. I sob that I don’t want to push, I don’t want a baby!

His warm breath pours over my sweat-drenched head, and he kisses my crown.

“But you are having a baby.”

I wail, voice pitching awkwardly in pain as the head bobs behind my lips with each spasm of my lungs. He runs his big hand up and down my shaking back.

“You’re doing so good, sweet boy,” he murmurs. “Come on. Let me help you get this baby out.”

I’m still sobbing, but with no will of my own, he easily steers me back towards the bedroom. I moan and groan pitifully with the weight hanging shockingly low between my legs. I don’t understand how it’s even still inside me. He doesn’t complain about how slowly I waddle, and helps lower me into a deep squat on some towels on our bedroom floor. It doesn’t occur to me to wonder when he put them there. I’m too busy groaning ruggedly at the pressure, feeling like my hips will pop out of place.

He sits behind me on the bed and loops his hands under my arms, his strong arms crossing over my gasping chest. I cling to his forearms and go limp, finding myself suspended in this impossibly low squat, him supporting me completely.

“Look. Look at you.”

I realize my eyes are clenched shut and peel them open with difficulty. The world is blurry with the pressure in my head and the sweat stinging my eyes. It takes me a moment to understand what I’m looking at.

When I do, a heavy, mourning groan rises from deep in my belly. In the mirror, I see the round, heavy mass clench with my breathing. And below that, the nightmarish, unreal sight of my cunt protruding ridiculously from my pelvis, dark red, clinging tightly to the head of a baby I don’t want. Towards my puffy asshole, the opening of my cunt has begun to round with the child’s head, making a slim teardrop shape.

Squatting there, I gasp for air and blink through tears at my reflection: a man, scruffy beard, hair thinning a bit at the temples, hairy arms flexing harshly as he clings to his boyfriend. I look so normal, just a guy who the world would never guess has a pussy between his legs. Then I confront the crease where my surgically-flat chest gives way to a bulbous pregnant belly. And below that, a gaping birthing hole. A man stuck in a deep squat, turning purple with each push as his labia slowly, slowly opens.

I never think to question why my boyfriend would situate me here, or why he’s so even-headed and calm as we both watch me push out the head. I don’t notice how keen and thrilled his eyes glitter when I make sharp, pained noises. I don’t catch the hint of delight on the edge of his mouth as I struggle over several contractions to reach the crown, charmed with my pattern of declaring it’s coming out, only to find with the next push that I still had further to stretch.

When I finally reach the crown, I try to scream, but my voice is too spent. He kisses my head and tells me how amazing I am. I pant against his grip on my chest and make noises like a flat harmonica in my throat as I try to master my lungs or my voice. I can’t pull my eyes from the dark oval of the head, reducing my cunt to forced-aside furrows of flesh.

A head is coming out of me. I’m crowning. A baby is coming out of my pussy. I’m giving birth.

After crowning for two agonizing minutes, my body contracts, and I put everything I have into getting this fucking thing out of me. I throw my hips forward and grunt like a Neanderthal, chin hitting my sternum and chest depressing and eyes darkening and hearing fading as I push beyond my limits. I black out for a moment, only to find that my arms have instinctively fallen limply between my legs to catch the baby that I just shoved head and shoulders out of my birth canal.

I wince as I drag its weird little feet out of my pussy. My arms tremble as I hold it before me, staring at it, how it moves in strange jerky motions, how the disgusting blue cord dangles from it, into me. How did I not know this was inside me?

“Oh, she’s beautiful,” my boyfriend says, and ducks down to kiss my cheek. I numbly let him seat me gently on the ground, and blink blankly as he grabs another towel and cleans the baby up until it cries. His brilliant smile makes no sense to me. I stare at him as he peels my sweaty shirt up from my chest, and don’t protest when he helps me cradle the child against my pec. I don’t even have the energy for shock when it latches onto my fattened nipple and apparently gets a few drops of something from my ever-so-slightly swollen chest. Sure. Why not?

While the thing I just pushed out sucks nutrients from my body, I hear myself say, “I guess Plan B isn’t 100 percent effective.”

“Hm?” my boyfriend hums absentmindedly, staring at the baby. It takes him a long time to finally say, “Oh. No, it’s 89 percent effective at most.” That smile lights up his face again. I feel cold. “Lucky for us, huh?”

I look back at the mirror, him fawning over his baby that I had to push out, blood still leaking from my ruined pussy.

Someone else on this site ages back posted something about a puppy boy who was pregnant, but didn't understand why his belly was getting bigger, or why it felt like something was moving in it, and... 😵‍💫 I think that concept just begs for your take on it.

Omg yessssss I’ve seen many ppl do some variation on this and I always go crazy for it,,, puppy boy with his chest all puffy, and rows of budding teats down the taut curve of his belly… puppy boy laying down to give his back a rest, legs instinctively splayed open as he rubs his tumbling womb… puppy boy getting a little frisky from the hormones and constantly trying to hump or grind on whatever’s nearby, whimpering and holding his belly as the weight inside rocks with his hips… puppy boy innocently asking why his belly is so big and whimpering with the aches and pains

Puppy boy scared and confused when his contractions begin… owner needing to go to work and telling puppy not to push until they get back, and he promises not to, even though he has no idea what that means… then puppy feeling the urge to push and trying not to for hours, pacing and whining until finally he gives in, just to try it… but it feels so right that he can’t stop, so he keeps doing it, on his hands and knees with his tail standing up, groaning and whimpering as he pushes the huge, heavy weight towards his dripping puppyboy pussy…

When the owner gets home after work, they hear yelping and crying as they approach the door, but it goes silent at the sound of their key in the lock. They find puppy lying on the floor with his overdue belly heaving from his side, his legs pressed trembling together and his hands shoved between them. He looks up with wide, guilty eyes, and the owner kneels down and asks if he was pushing while they were at work.

Puppy shakes his head, so owner asks if they can see his pussy. He shakes his head again, feverishly, and owner asks if he’s lying. His belly tightens into a strange shape around his large litter, and he starts to whine, desperately shaking his head now.

Growing tired of all this, the owner simply pries puppy’s legs apart, and tsks in disappointment as he finds puppy’s pathetic cunt stuck trying to crown two pups at once. See? they say. This is why I told you not to push without me. Puppy whimpers apologies and begs for help, but the owner tells him that naughty puppies have to live with consequences, and goes on with their day.

Is anyone else upset about this? Im too embarrassed to talk about this issue I have withy friends or on my main account but I wish non-scat fetishists cared too simply on the grounds of anti censorship. It feels so unfair. No generic pro kink blogs are talking about this!

Does anyone other than us even know? Or care? Is it working simply because we're too embarrassed to talk about why we know about it getting banned in the first place?

I've always viewed porn and erotica as not just... Porn and erotica. In fact I have read many a erotica I'm not sexually into for educational reasons as a psyche student. This is important to archive! How else will future generations study us in all of what we are? Am I the only one who sees this as really really bad??? Not just annoying?