You look wide eyed at the notification on your med watch. You've been picked. You are pregnant. It was insanely lucky that you'd nearly managed to go a few years after graduation without getting chosen. One of your old high school friends got raffled the day after and raffled again the following month. Now it is your turn.Â
-1st Phase-
History books said that, at one relatively small time, the raffle was met with fury. Each month was a new protest filled with the rapidly impregnated. Now everyone begrudgingly accepted it as a part of life in the chrome future everyone's great great grandparents fantasized about. You press a finger below your navel. It was already firm to the touch and your nipples itched against the fabric of your sleep shirt.Â
You were automatically cleared from work for the day so there was no need to rush out and do anything. Your objective today was to relax and do your singular task.Â
You decide to get a showerâa simple anti-bacteria spray down and think about the most important part of this day. The birth. A younger person, without someone to advise them correctly, would think that going to one of the city hospitals would be the safest and best option. But you knew better. There were stories of ambulance c-sections with minimal anesthesia and hospitals practically restraining birthers in unrelenting binds and stirrups. Even in facilities they gave very little time to actually push before they enforced an extraction protocol. Medical staff were trained to be fully optimized toward a healthy delivery for the child. The only good choice was deciding to go it alone.Â
Upon finishing your shower, you stopped in front of your mirror. A pouch of a belly, big enough to cup beneath your palm has grown on you. You canât imagine it taking weeks of time just to get a little bump like this. Some books say pregnancy used to take an entire 40 weeks. Thank goodness for optimization.Â
If you were going to do this in your apartment, you'd need supplies. You put on some sweatpants, a loose T-shirt and head out of your apartment.Â
The Mag-lev train, one of the best benefits of this present, is packed full with people. The vibe is different than normal. A young couple looking naively excited. A woman with a baby barely a year old idly massaged the base of her belly with an exhausted look in her eyes. This was raffle day.Â
You procure over the counter grade stim packs only good for minor cuts, antibacterial salves, bandages, a basket big enough to be a bassinet, meal kits to ease your cravings. Hopefully that would be enough, because that is all you can afford. You spend a bit too much time trying to navigate the sparsely stocked and overcrowded baby area and only make it out with a few items of need.Â
The attendant looks to your midsection. âWon the raffle, huh? Good luck, I heard they've been making some rough ones.âÂ
They send you on your way, but that comment and obvious stare make you look down to your bump. Â
You see that your shirt has noticeably pushed forward in the hour of shopping. The bump looks bigger than any of the average diagrams you looked at in the past. The band of your sweat pants were already starting to dip below your waist. Time was ticking towards the inevitable.Â
-2nd phase-
By the time you return to your apartment your belly has become obvious. The shirt is tight against your skin, your sweats require constant adjustment. You look undeniably pregnant.Â
You rush to get everything you purchased set and ready. Medical supplies in the bathroom, bassinet close by, clean cloth laid and ready. Each passing moment you feel your shirt get a little tighter around your growing breasts and begin to ride a little higher over the large belly you are growing.Â
If you lingered for too long you could feel it, you could see it. The stretching of your skin, the movements of your baby becoming subtly stronger. You can see a line slowly darkening across your middle and through your ever swallowing belly button.Â
One moment amidst your preparation you pass a glance at the mirror. The waistband of your sweats has fully dipped below your waistline, cradling the underbelly of your bump. Movement slides beneath your barely visible belly button as you stare wide-eyed at your mirrored image. You look full term and you still have an entire phase left to go.Â
-3rd Phase-
Walking is impossible. The sheer mass of your belly weighing on your hips has thrown your center of gravity off so much you can barely take a step without needing to brace against a wall. All you can do is lay down and watch your massive belly somehow exceed its limit and read up on the dozens of things that could go wrong. You count yourself lucky that you got everything you needed ready before you got this massive.Â
A throbbing pain goes through your chest as you watch an archived birth video. Your breasts have become engorged to the point a shirt couldn't contain them and now were just a touch away from leaking. You twist slowly off your bed and arduously waddle to your bathroom using the little furniture you have as handholds to keep balance, the weight of the massive baby sitting in your hips and lean over the sink. With barely a touch your tits start expressing.Â
Relief happens before you're awed by your own body. Your belly is pointed out into a cone shape with your darkened belly button as its point. The skin of your belly is a map of veins and from your underbelly to your hips you have deep stretchmarks. Before your eyes, you see the weight of your belly shifted down, your ease of breathing returns but in that same instant a large, solid object jams its way into the bowl of your hips.
You moan softly, then it turns into a pained groan. The muscles in your abdomen and back tense. Your knees hinge and one hand springs to the taut surface of your bump.
The first of many contractions takes your body. Not long now.Â
-The Final Moments-
Your heavy belly heaves as you breathe through a contraction. Your voice is a bellow of pain and fear. The contraction you felt earlier was merely a braxton hicks and your pregnancy was not yet done with you. Another half hour of growing made your belly elongate and droop further beneath your hip line. Your bump looks like it didn't even exist as a part of your body anymore.Â
The labor pains were as rapid as the pregnancy. The contractions come with such frequency that you can't catch your bearings long enough to check yourself and forcing your fingers into your contracting canal makes you see stars.Â
Head buried into the crook of your arm, you moan, curse and rock on your knees on the bathroom floor. The pressure mounts deep behind your cervix and you feel a mass pass through its rapidly dilating flesh. A pop of fluid hits your thighs and underbelly. Relief from that pressure is fleeting; the giant baby surges against your cervix without pause.Â
The next contraction, you bear down. Desperation to get it out already controls your actions. Your belly turns into a different abnormal shape with every push and contraction.Â
The process was too slow and yet too fast. The contractions start to outpace the time you need to recover from pushing out a baby that barely moved past your cervix. Each one felt like a hand was reaching through you and pulling the baby forcefully from your womb. You sputter and gasp as a contraction forces the massive stone of a head against your cervix. It opens wider and wider, but it's only barely able to compensate for the speed of the labor and size of the baby.Â
The time between spasms shortens again and again until you feel your canal full and the distinct pressure of your labia beginning to bulge. Between heaving breaths, you reach a hand to your crotch. Â
The teardrop transformed into a massive âOâ shape against your palm within seconds.Â
Your body doesn't care if it breaks, it only wants the baby out. You keep your palm against the wide crown, head thrown back, hips straining and rotating in an attempt to escape the burn and pressure, the sides of your belly compress into a hot, hardened mass of skin.
A primal moan rumbles from deep within. The skin of your labia opens wide and forward, clinging to the head. You pray you don't tear, you beg your body to be more resilient. You begin to understand why people would beg for the scalpel and a quick end.You rock back into the pressure with a screech as the constant contraction rises to its peak and forces the head out of the grip of your flesh. The shoulders and torso slide out of your now shaking body and into your singular wait palm.
Loud gasps and cries echo from your and your baby. You crawl to the wall of your bathroom, baby in hand, and sit up steady. Your crotch is burning sore and throbbing from the abuse it was put through. The baby wept in your hands as it lay against your chest and swollen belly.Â
Now all you need to do is wait for the placenta. That is what you think. The next contraction isn't subtle or a firm pressureâ it doubles you over.Â
You cry out, clutching your still rounded bump. A trill of movement shifts against the taut skin below your belly button. A second baby pressed on your cervix. Your body doesn't give you the chance to panic before another contraction hits you and you're brought back to the same cycle. Twins weren't supposed to happen with this system. The government assured it wouldn't happen. The facts don't matter now, this is happening. The invisible grasp that pulled on your first shoved into you to start its efforts again. But this time you feel none of the rapid progress.
You push. Nothing moves. You push again. Nothing. The veins and muscles in your neck strain as you scream. Only the feeling of the bowl of your pelvis opening as wide as it could and letting nothing through follows. Your breath hitches, panic rising in your chest. It should be well into your canal by now, but you can still feel the large child in you. You move a hand to the base of your belly and press. Your eyes go wide and the bathroom echoes with your voice whimpering ânoâ.
âI heard they've been making some rough ones.â the voice of the clerk rings in your ear.
The baby was sideways across your pelvis. Breech. No matter how hard you pushed or how long you labored, the twin wouldn't move.Â
You remember one thing from the research you did, one thing doctors used to do a long time ago. You lay your first born down in the heap of towels. With a trembling hand you grasp your belly and baby and force it to turn. Your mouth goes wide, eyes distant and bulging, a contraction flaring against the forceful movement. The muscles in your arms fight against the ones making you give birth. The need to push hasn't wanedâit got worse. The small shifts in the baby's position you feel aren't enough to reduce the agony or your exhaustion.
The glint of your medwatch catches your eye. A notification was recommending that you alert the EMS. One hand grips the mass of the twin as you stare at the alert. Sweat and tears burn your eyes as you consider it, as you ponder what brutality the city EMS would do to you. You ignore the notification and get back to your efforts. You resist your most primal urge, muscles strain to fight against the force of your hands; but the baby shifts regardless.
Eventually, you feel a hardness drop against your cervix.Â
And a bolt of pain goes through your spine. Your body jerks into an arch and your hand shoots to the base of your back. You writhe and spasm at the sudden press against your nerves. The baby rushes so quickly you don't have the chance to stop it like you did before. In the brief moment your fear of tearing enters your mind, you feel the twin open you in more ways than one.Â
An inhuman scream rips its way out of your throat as you feel the baby's head suddenly feel too easy to pass. Bolts of pain shoot through your crotch just as fast as the baby slides out onto the floor. Your breathy moans are joined quickly by the surprise between your legs.Â
Your belly looked deflated. It had to be over now.
With what strength you have left, you spray the medkit mending onto your wounded crotch. You can barely muster the energy to pick up the twin you just birthed. The desire to just lay there, breathe a few breaths not strangled by the pain of labor or the weight of two babies against your lungs and hope fervently you wouldn't win the raffle next month.Â
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426-8. Request: Imagine a city where birth is something that you do very casually. Woman are going on about their day with heads crowning or dangling out and visible under the skirt. Some woman stop randomly on the sidewalk and finish giving birth in public.
By: fappinreborn / fappintobirth
You are a single and heavily pregnant woman with a pregnancy and birth fetish who decided to take your maternity leave and went on a trip to Crownington to give birth there.
The small but bustling city have some of your typical tourist attractions spots, but the real treat, and the reason that the city has been on the growing rapidly, was the cityâs laws, culture, and relationship with pregnancy and birth. Within the city, you are allowed and even encouraged to give birth anywhere you want. itâs even encouraged to do so via cash subsidies by the government if you give birth in Crownington, which also applies for any tourist visiting. While a minority of women still decided to give birth privately or in the hospital (usually due to medical issues), most women decided to do it out in the open. The prospect was too good to pass up, you visit there when you are 38 weeks pregnant and stayed there until you give birth
Stuck on a time loop on the day they give birth, after a few repeats they give birth practically everywhere possible and figure out that all they have to do is not have the kid that day. Easy! Right?
They give birth sobbing 15 times after realizing how hard it is to not push. Eventually they give up and spend all day in the tights boxers they can with a plug in their pussy
i wanna be naive to my pregnancy until iâm pushing out your baby. i want you to assure me that my growing belly is just because of all the sweets iâve been eating, that the shifting i feel inside me is just indigestion, and i want to completely blindly trust you. after all, how could i be pregnant? itâs not like you replaced my birth control with sugar pills or something. itâs not like you took off the condom when i wasnât looking. itâs not like you slipped something into my drink to make me forget what you did to me.
and then, when the contractions start, when i get the insatiable urge to push, i want to see the look on your face. i want you to watch me as the realization dawns on me that ive been carrying your baby this whole time.
BUILD A BIRTH VOL. 2 - now with birth denial options!
𤰠female
đź human
2ď¸âŁÂ Twins
đ Â home
đŠ˛Â tight clothing
đ all fours
⥠rapid preg/birth
It had been a long, amazing night, and Ella hadn't wanted it to end. She had stumbled home at an ungodly hour, fighting out of the thigh high boots she'd gotten (a thousand) compliments on all night and refused to check exactly what time it was. It had been her best friend's birthday, which meant she'd dressed to the nines. The gorgeous, expensive leather shorts she wore were practically a second skin and molded perfectly to her ass, meant to pair with those painful thigh high boots and the strappy top she'd been adjusting all night.
All her energy went towards getting out of that top, taking off her fake lashes, and ripping off her bra. Ella would handle the shorts she'd spent a solid 15 minutes wiggling into in the morning. She decided sleep was much more important.
Grumbling to herself, she flopped onto her bed, turning on her TV and flipping on her Youtube. She turned on one of those ASMR videos, something with nature sounds and ambiance. Good enough. She was asleep in a matter of minutes.
It definitely wasn't morning when she woke. It was absolutely not nature noises she heard when she woke, either.
"...the miracle of birth will begin, you will feel-"
Ella scrunched up her nose and grabbed her remote to check the video.
MANIFEST TWIN PREGNANCY RAPID RESULTS! REAL! NOT ROLEPLAY! ACTUAL RESULTS!
She stared, annoyed, then turned it off. Her autoplay results really were going to be fucked up for a few days. Seriously, Youtube, what the fuck? She groaned, then rolled over to go back to sleep.
HOUR 3
Ella woke up again a few hours later, stretching and making a face as she peered down at herself. Damn, she needed to lay off the bar food, it was making her bloated. The amusement didn't last, though, because she was running to the bathroom to puke her brains out.
Fantastic, a hangover. Ella was famously pretty resilient when it came to hangovers, and now she was sick as a dog. When she stood to wash out her mouth, she examined herself properly in the mirror.
Last night's makeup, messy hair from last night's updo, her tank-top...still wearing those shorts. She examined the slight swell of her stomach in the outfit.
"I'll probably puke this away with this hangover..." She muttered, then shuffled back to bed. A nap would fix this, right?
HOUR 5
Awake for real. Ella had to join the world of the living. When she woke, the nausea had passed and...her stomach had swollen again. Fucking hell. She stared at herself, wondering if it was some fucked up optical illusion.
It had to be.
Maybe it was these goddamn shorts.
Speaking of...
She grabbed on the shorts, trying to pull them off. The fight for the next twenty minutes told her that she should have taken them off the night before. Shit.
She'd call her friend to come over and help her get them off.
...If she knew where her phone was.
Trying to find her phone meant crawling around her apartment for the next hour, which was getting increasingly hard with her...was her belly getting larger again?
HOUR 6
She was digging through a pile of laundry when she felt movement in her abdomen.
No.
No, absolutely not.
That wasn't real. Ella felt at her stomach, staring at the (terrifyingly) swollen bump. She still hadn't found her phone. Where the fuck was it?! What the fuck was going on with her?!
Another movement.
No. Not real.
She sucked in a sharp breath and shook her head.
HOUR 7
Her belly had become something that definitely looked like a (very) pregnant woman's belly. It looked far too pregnant, in fact. Like, so pregnant that Ella was afraid that if this was real (it could not be) she was in danger of giving birth any goddamn moment.
It couldn't be real.
ASMR videos didn't get people pregnant. She hadn't had sex in months. Okay, it had been a year. A hell of a dry spell. She'd been counting.
That's why it couldn't be real. That's why the kicking couldn't be real. That's why when she went to go out to her car, and her front door wouldn't open, Ella burst into tears.
She'd been meaning to get that lock fixed for months. It was an old house. The lock to the front door had a bad habit of getting stuck and would require either a locksmith or someone with a crowbar to open.
Annnd Ella had left the crowbar in the trunk of her car.
She sunk down against the door, sobbing into her hands. This wasn't a horror movie, she wasn't dying. She just had to find her phone. It was going to be fine. Maybe she was just having a nightmare. A really weird nightmare. ASMR videos didn't get people fucking pregnant...
HOUR 8
hopefulmama2020: IT WORKED!! thank you!!
anonymous2298882: holy shit i should have read the disclaimers about how fast it works but thanks
familyof4: I don't know if it's witchcraft or god's work but you're amazing, thank you. And no ads, which is proof you're doing this for all the right reasons.
She was digging desperately through the comment section of the video she'd woken up to the night before (while keeping it paused and muted. Ella absolutely didn't want anything...weird to happen again.) She was sure these all had to be bots or people paid to comment positively, until...
anonymous3388088: WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS???
humanperson22: you can't just PUT THIS IN THE AUTOPLAY FEATURE YT SOMEONE IS GONNA GET HURT
singlemama32: you need to put BETTER WARNINGS IN PLACE! I was ON A DATE!
There was something sobering and horrifying about seeing people complain about this like it was a consumer product and not some terrifying curse (if it was even real.) The nudging against her womb insisted she pay attention. Ella sobbed into her hands. What were her options? Her phone was still MIA. She was locked in her home.
Her laptop. She'd message her friends, tell them to come over....
She struggled to get up against the weight of her stomach, going to get her laptop...
Dead. Fuck.
Plugged it in, waited for it to boot up...
Every minute was torture. She messaged her friends frantically, waiting for any of them to answer, waiting for someone to get online. Everyone was clearly still recovering from last night, because nobody was online.
Could she even reach emergency services on her laptop?!
A twinge of pain distracted her from this train of thought.
HOUR 9
Labor of a child she hadn't been pregnant with the night before was a terror Ella didn't know she was capable of. Her body hadn't been prepared for this.
"Please, no," she gasped, grabbing at the doorway between her kitchen and living room. Pain radiated low in her abdomen, spreading through her and making her legs shake under her. She stumbled with each step, hands shaking as she pressed her palms to the wall in an attempt to steady herself.
"I've gotta..." More pain. She cried out, a sharp noise as she pulled at her shorts again. They felt even tighter against her skin, surely on the breaking point with the swell of her belly and the increased curve of her ass. She whined as she tried to move towards her bedroom.
Each step felt like fire. She whimpered, moving so slowly it felt like eternity. "This can't be real, it can't be real, it can't---"
A release of pressure. Relief, and then fluid pooling between her legs. Her shorts were damp now, more discomfort as she whined and leaned against the wall again.
"No, no, stop, stop, I can't do that, not like this," there was no way her water had just broken. This whole thing had just started. She had just...she was not pregnant to begin with!
Ella took another hard, sharp breath and stumbled a few feet closer to her bedroom. A contraction, as she knew it, came. It was harder and longer than the others, more urgent. She howled in pain, brought to her knees by the sensation.
"Please, please, get off..." Her breaths came in huffs and gasps while she tried to fight with the tight leather again. Another contraction. Ella squealed and shook her head.
"I can't, not like that, please, wait..."
Her body wouldn't listen. It was slowly opening her, a large, heavy pressure insistently rocking against her cervix. Horrified, she resisted the strange, unfamiliar urge that came with the feeling.
"No..." She sobbed.
It wasn't fair. She hadn't done anything to deserve this. Ella had been safe, she had been good, all she did was come home, all she did was go to sleep, and now...
Now she had to push.
"No!" She shrieked. She crawled towards her bed, desperate to at least give birth on her bed like...like what, a proper mother? What did that even mean?
It didn't matter. Her body didn't care. It pushed for her. She screamed and dug her nails into the carpet. The pain passed. Ella breathed between the contractions and stared at the floor as tears dripped down her face.
"I've got to get...these off..." She whimpered. She started grabbing the waistband of the shorts. She started pulling on them. Another contraction.
"Fuck! Stop! Stop, stop, stop!"
Her body pushed, even if she tried not to. Ella whined and writhed on all fours, a desperate, cornered animal without a choice. She sobbed for help, for it to stop, for anything. Nobody answered.
This cycle continued for what felt like forever, but not long enough for Ella to even begin to acclimate. To her horror, she felt something spreading her pussy open.
"No, no, I can't---" She reached to touch it. It was pressing against the tight leather of her shorts. "Please, please, there's no---"
A scream. It was loud, desperate, and instinctive this time. She pushed this time, giving in to the pain and demands of her body. The head of the baby she hadn't even been fucked to create began spreading her open.
"It hurts, it hurts, please, please," she pleaded. Her legs shook. Her hands gripped the carpet so hard she feared her nails would tear.
Another push. Another wail of absolute, unfettered agony. Ella finally gathered the nerve to do something she'd been avoiding since this labor had started: she turned to look in the mirror.
There was a long, full length mirror in her room that sat across from her bed. As she looked over her shoulder, she could see herself. On all fours, her hair a mess, her skin flushed, she was a trembling disaster. Her shorts were barely a few inches down her hip and...oh god.
There was the distinct shape of a baby's head crowning into her shorts. Ella howled in terror as the next contraction tore through her, bearing down so hard she feared she would break. She didn't. She pushed again. She begged for mercy from an entity that didn't answer.
"Please, please..." She gasped. She fought to pull the shorts down a little more. Mercifully, a little more progress. The baby filled what little room she made by pulling her shorts down.
"Stop! Oh my god, stop---"
She was pushing again. The baby was filling every inch of her and forcing itself out of her in the same breath. Ella whined in desperation as she felt it started to twist and move.
"Please, please..." Pulling a little more. The shorts weren't off, but...
"It burns, it burns---" A full crown. There were no words for the pain. Ella sobbed. She couldn't form thoughts as the way the head stretched her came over her, pushing hard and lowering her head. The pain overtook her, an experience she'd never be able to let go.
"Oh, fuck!" The head had just enough room to emerge from her. She gasped and hooked her fingers into the waistband of her shorts, pulling them down a few more inches.
"Just...a little...more..." She gasped.
Another push. The shoulders twisted and she whined, gritting her teeth as she bore down. "Out, out, out, please---"
Release. A cry. Ella reached and pulled the baby from the tight space in her shorts. It was a healthy baby boy. She stared at it in abject confusion. At least it was...healthy? But...how? How was this real? How was any of this...
She didn't have time. It was happening again.
It was happening again?!
"Not again, please, not again--"
It was happening again and fast. Ella howled in terror as a second head pressed hard against her cervix. There was no luxury of ignorance this time: she knew it was going to hurt. She knew it would stretch her open, that it would be unrelenting, that she had nowhere she could run.
She would give birth, and that was that.
"Fuck! Oh god, fuck!" Ella screeched as the head started to clear her cervix. She pushed hard, desperate for this to be over, but her body only had so much strength. Each contraction brought fresh new agony but not enough progress.
It felt like it was all going too quickly but not quickly enough.
She thought that, of course, until the massive head of the baby was crowning.
"No! No, oh my god, no!" It was too big. The first baby was already too big, and this one was bigger. Fuck. No. She would die. It would tear her open, and she would---
She gave in to the urge to push, crying out for help as she did so. Each push brought more fear and more pain. Each push stretched her wider. Each push brought her closer to her limit.
"Oh god, it's coming out, no, no, no!" she shrieked until her voice broke. Nothing was going to stop it. In that moment, she wondered how any woman could choose to do this more than once. It wasn't like she'd been given a choice--
"Please!" It came to a full crown. She squirmed against it, trying to wiggle away from the pain. It didn't relent. She sobbed and pushed again. The head emerged. She made a startled noise and swore she almost passed out.
"Almost...almost..." She wasn't sure who she was talking to, herself, the baby she'd already birthed, or the one nearly born, but...
She pushed again. And again, and...
"One more, one more, one..." The shoulders twisted hard. She cried out and dug her nails into the carpet one more time. The baby slid out and screamed, the sound drowned out by Ella's howls of agony.
A healthy baby girl.
She finally fought to get the shorts off. It was about an hour after the birth that she found her phone (in the back pocket of said shorts) and two hours before her friends messaged her back.
Maybe she'd stop listening to videos to sleep at night.
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I like the idea of writing a particularly difficult birth, so how about this?
2 / bed / 4 (extremely slow) / painful > Agonizing / No help / bath > bed / on side > squatting / Head first > posterior / Brutal > impossible / Second (you, female-minded)
Two for one
Word count: 1060
You woke up a few times during the night with cramping in your massive belly. Each time you tried to convince yourself it was just some Braxton hicks and went back to bed. That was until an unusually bad one had you gripping the sheets and crying out. When it was finally over, you made an attempt to sit up. It was quite the struggle with your massive belly and swollen breasts holding you down. With a bit of time you eventually managed to get yourself resting against the pillows.
Your contractions came and went through the day. Each one was getting more painful than the last and closer together. You found it harder to time when you could get up to use the bathroom or grab food. Each time youâd think youâd make it but a contraction would force you to lean against the wall in order to stay upright.Â
Now it was nearly dinner time. Youâve been laboring all day and are exhausted. At some point you managed to move from the bed to the bathroom. Where youâre now clinging to the tub and fully screaming through your current contraction.Â
The pain continued to grow and so did your voice. Finally, your screams turned to pants as the contraction started to die down. You shifted your weight between your knees and leaned over to start the bath. Your belly brushed the cold edge of the bathtub, sending a shiver through you. The water started to fill the tub as you shook off the robe youâve been failing to keep closed.Â
You werenât able to get into the tub before the pain started to creep up inside you. Your belly contorting in time with your next contraction. You were forced yet again to grab at the tub and scream through a contraction. The water lapped against your hand distracting you from the fading contraction. You quickly realized the faucet was still running and the tub was getting dangerously full.  Â
You heaved yourself up, your legs shaking from the last of the contraction lingering.With just a bit of strain you managed to stop the water from flowing. The warm water was nice on your skin. You know the tub should be drained a bit before you get in but you were too exhausted to care. Water splashed on the floor from your massive body raising the waterline and causing it to spill.Â
You had just enough time to fully sit before the next contraction was starting. This time you started to feel the need to push. You leaned back and tried to just breathe. Your body had a different idea. It wasnât long before you felt yourself push. Your body took over and wanted this baby out.Â
The baby filled your birth canal slowly and painfully. With each contraction you pushed with all your might. Only to move the baby barely an inch with each push. The water had long turned cold by the time the head was pressing against your lips. The next handful of contractions felt like the worst ones yet. It wasnât the pain raging through your back and hips, it was the burning between your thighs. The head was stretching you far beyond what you would think possible.Â
Then with a scream, the head popped free. You reached down to check for a cord. When there wasnât one, you began to push again. The shoulders pressed against your hole only for a moment before they too popped free. It was barely a push after that to get the rest of the baby out.Â
You lifted the new life from the water as it started to cry. You finally were able to relax. You held your new baby and started to drain the tub. Soon after it emptied you climbed out and wrapped yourself and the newborn in towels.Â
You waddled off down the hall. The pain in between your legs made your waddle even worse than when you were carrying both babies inside you. A contraction started halfway to the bedroom, signalling your next baby would be born soon. You managed to take deep breaths and walk through the pain.Â
It worked long enough to place your newborn in the bassinet. Then you collapsed to the floor. You arched your back and let out a deep moan as the pain took over. This baby felt bigger and you were already so tired from pushing out the first one. You didn't know how you were going to do it again.Â
The labor was more painful than your last, the baby weighed heavily on your abused pelvis and pressed against your tender insides. You couldn't help but writhe and scream when your body told you to push. The baby was bigger but something else felt wrong. The massive baby finally reached your abused opening. With a shaky hand you reached around your deflated stomach and felt for the head.Â
Instead, your blood ran cold as you felt the bottom of your baby. You almost let out a sob but was cut off by another painful contraction. You pushed hard. Then again. Then again. The baby barely moved each time. When you collapsed back after a contraction you decided it was time to move. Very shakily and gingerly you were able to pull yourself up into a squat. It was just the trick. The next contraction had you pushing hard. This time the baby stretched your lips open. You focused on keeping yourself from falling over as a distraction from the pain. The noises you made were purely animalistic at this point, grunts, moans, and screams all mixed together in an attempt to get the baby out.Â
The legs slipped free with the last push. Then the baby's body. The arms and head were still securely inside. You reached between your legs and tried to pull the arms free. Only to switch to plant them on the floor to help balance yourself as you push again. You didn't stop even when the contractions did. It was harder but the baby couldn't stay inside you much longer.Â
A blood curdling scream filled the room as you gave your last massive push your all. It worked and the baby popped free. You quickly gathered the baby and laid down on the floor as you held it close to your chest.Â
mutual birth with a domme who finds herself in labor at the same time as her sub and struggles to try to hide her contractions and then hide the fact that she's pushing while she guides her sub through their own birthâ she's tied the wrists of her sub to the bedframe, leaving them flat on their back and curved over their belly while they push to give her the best possible view of what's happening between their legs; she kneels on the bed in front of them and keeps her thighs squeezed tightly together, sweat beading on her brow as she guides her sub through their pushing ("you're doing so well for me, pet" and "spread those legs just a little bit wider for me" and "im going to need you to push harder than that" and "there you go, thaaaaaats it" and "you look so perfect like this, that sweet little pussy bulging wide open for me, you're going to be crowning soon- can you feel that?") all the while fighting off the very same instinctsâ the head of her own baby is grinding down through her birth canal and past the tight ring of her cervix and just as her sub begins to show their first signs of crowning, the urge to push becomes too strong to ignore and she can't fight it anymore.
she falls back onto the bed and grabs hold of her thighs, pulling her legs back towards her chest as she frantically bears down, eager to get her birth over with as quickly as possible so that she can get back to the experience of watching her sub. "just... need to get it out." she grits her teeth and shoves, the naked swell of her belly pulled so low and taut that it blocks the sight of her bulging cunt.
"y-you've been pushing?" they cry, twisting against their restraints so that they can get a clearer view of her without the obstruction of their belly in the way. "don't- hnnnnngah-ah- don't rush it like that! you'll tear."
she shakes her head, rising up on her heels and bringing one hand down to cup her gaping vagina. her perineum bulges into her palm as she inhales and pushes again, and she grunts as she feels the lips of her pussy slowly start to part. "just let me do it. its- fuck, its coming anyway. cant stop it."
her sub stares at her with wide eyes, caught off guard by seeing her so uninhibited. so animalistic. she looks both frantic and determined, bearing down with gravity as the unrelenting urge to deliver the baby consumes her. "crowning," she announces through gritted teeth, skin flushed and dripping with sweat. "just... just breathe for me, 'kay? i'm almost- hoooo, almost d-doneeee."
they do take in a deep breath, momentarily distracted from the stinging pain between their own legs as they watch the sight happening between hers.
"one more," she mumbles to herself, head slipping just past a full crown. her hand trembles around it as she provides as much support as she can, body powered by pure adrenaline. "just one more- p-pushhhh."
the slide of the head's emergence is slow, and she feels every bit of the burn as the lips of her cunt stretch around the head. "get... out," she roars, throwing her head back as her hips jut forwardâthe head pops free in a burst of fluid, dangling between her thighs just for a moment before a final push sends it sliding onto the fluid soaked sheets beneath her.
"okay," she mutters, giving her wailing infant- a daughter, much larger in size than the rapid nature of her birth would have suggested- a quick once over. "okay, okay. I did it."
her attention immediately shifts back to her sub, currently panting their way through a contraction as the head of their own baby begins to peek through their furled slit. "now," she says, still somewhat breathless. "where were we, pet?"
Consecutive birth experiences that are wildly different from the other.
Your first birth is orgasmic. You're so excited for the second, but then it ends up being the longest and most painful experience of your life.
Or the opposite. You're so scared for your second birth, more than you were for your first, because now that you've done it once, you know how hard it can be. But then the day comes and it's the best experience you've ever had.
A first birth that's calm, serene. Not easy, but intimate, you're in control of it. Maybe a home birth with your partner. And then the second birth ends up happening in public, completely not what you've planned.
The first birth was just one baby. This one is three. It lasts so much longer. You had no idea it would take so much out of you, each hour it goes on draining you more than you think possible.
Need to be in the woods in the arms of a masked captor, crying while they hold me and adjust the rope they used to tie me down. It's such a cute moment, just a little prey whimpering in the new owners arms
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Imagine a witch who punishes by syncing a woman to a pregnant one. The newly cursed woman's body rapidly changes to match the one who's currently overdue with a set of twins... or more. She doesn't even get a few hours to recover before her link goes into labor. But the biggest punishment is the fact that she can't make any progress. There is a magical barrier keeping her babies at the same position and progress of the one she takes after. So one second she could be trying to push, and the next, the head is barreling through her birth canal without her control.
It was days after my 19th birthday, working the graveyard shift at the local grocery store, stocking shelves with canned goods and cereal boxes. It was the only job I knew how to do, really. School had never been a thing for me, not with the revolving door of guardians and the streets playing teacher most of the time. The public bus was my chariot to this world of fluorescent lights and expiration dates, a place where no one knew me, and I liked it that way. It was easier to be invisible. Easier to keep my head down and just do the work that needed to be done.
On the way home from work, something changed. A man, older, stronger, pulled me onto his lap. His hands were rough, his breath hot in my ear, and his intentions... I didn't know what they were. I didn't know what was happening to me. But fear had taught me silence, so I remained quiet as he did... whatever it was that he did. After it was over, I stumbled off the bus, my body feeling foreign and violated, but I pushed the confusion deep down, tucking it away with all the other things I didn't understand. It hurt but I liked it. I could tell it was wrong but I wasn't sure why.
Days turned into weeks, and my body began to change in ways I didn't understand. My belly grew rounder, my chest more sensitive. I'd wake up in a cold sweat, a sticky mess between my legs. When the whispers started at work, the sly glances, the snickers, I had no idea what they were talking about. But I knew it was about me. I tried to hide it, to ignore it, but the evidence was written all over my body, in the way my pants didn't fit and the way I had to lean against the shelves to relieve the pressure in my lower back.
My reflection in the mirror at home was a stranger's. Breasts grew where none had been before, swollen and tender. They leaked a strange white fluid that I thought was a sign of sickness. I didn't know about periods or pregnancy, the lessons of womanhood had passed me by in the school of hard knocks. The pain was intense, and I felt so alone, so utterly lost in the chaos of my own flesh.
As the months dragged on, the weight in my belly grew heavier. It was like I had swallowed a watermelon whole, and it was slowly expanding, taking over my entire being. I tried to ignore it, to keep my shifts at the grocery store, to keep my head down and push through. But the pain grew sharper, the discomfort more pronounced. My once loose work shirt was stretched taut over my swollen stomach, the fabric straining against my skin. The whispers grew louder, the stares more blatant.
The man from the bus had taken something from me that night, something vital and confusing. He had planted a seed without my consent, and now it was growing, thriving in the most unwelcome way possible. I touched my belly, feeling the firmness of it, the way it had changed from the flat plane I knew to this alien landscape of curves and swells. The skin was tight, almost painfully so, and when I pressed down, I could feel something moving inside of me, something alive. It was terrifying and fascinating all at once, a silent dance of life that I could never have anticipated.
My body had become a battleground, a canvas for something I didn't ask for. My chest felt heavy, the new breasts aching with a constant, throbbing pain. They were a betrayal, a constant reminder of what had been done to me. The white fluid that leaked from them was thick and sticky, and I'd often find myself wiping it away in disgust, wondering if this was normal. Was this what it was like for the girls I saw at the store, with their perky breasts and knowing smiles?
The nights grew restless as my body began to change in other ways. I'd feel a sharp pain in my lower stomach, a cramp that would bend me over, making me gasp. I'd double over in the stockroom, clutching my belly, and when the pain passed, I'd stand up, wipe the sweat from my brow, and pretend everything was fine. I'd seen enough of the world to know that asking for help was often a fool's errand, especially for someone like me.
My boss called me into his office one night. He was a gruff old man who didn't tolerate much, but his eyes were filled with something I hadn't seen before: pity. He told me I needed to take some time off, that I couldn't work like this. I didn't understand. He handed me a small stack of cash and told me to take care of myself. I nodded, took the money, and left without looking back, my heart racing and my eyes burning with unshed tears.
That night, I laid down on the bed, my belly pressing against the stained comforter, and finally let myself cry. The tears came in a flood, soaking my shirt and pooling on my stomach. I didn't know what was happening to me, but I knew it was wrong. Why was my body doing this to me?
The days passed in a blur of pain and confusion. The cramps grew more intense, and I could feel something shifting inside of me. I didn't know what it was, but it scared me. The thought of going to the hospital made me want to retch. I didn't have insurance, and I was afraid of what they'd do to me. Was this something the cops would help with? I had no answers, only fear and the deep, gnawing pain that seemed to never leave.
One evening, the pain became unbearable. I stumbled into the bathroom and looked into the mirror, my eyes wide with terror. My belly was now massive, stretched to the point that I could see the veins beneath the skin, a map of blue lines crisscrossing the mound of flesh that was my new reality. The skin was taut and shiny, and the sight of my once-flat stomach now a round, bulging mass filled me with dread. My breasts were heavy, the nipples dark and pointed, the areolas swollen and sensitive. I didn't recognize myself anymore.
I was a mere skeleton of my former self, with the extra weight all concentrated in my midsection. The reflection staring back at me was that of somebody I didn't quite recognize, but the face was still mine, a young man's face, filled with fear and confusion. The stark contrast between the two images made me feel like I was looking at a monstrous parody of myself, a cruel joke played by fate. My shoulders were thin and bony, my arms stick-like as they supported the weight of my new, unwanted form.
The pain grew sharper, more insistent, and I realized with a sinking feeling that I was about to face the consequences of that night on the bus. I didn't know what was happening, but I knew it was coming soon. I lay down on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position, but it was like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. My body was no longer mine; it had been hijacked by something inside me. I was nothing more than a vessel for something I didn't understand, something that had been forced upon me without my consent.
As the night grew darker, so did my thoughts. Panic set in, my heart racing as the contractions grew stronger and closer together. I had no idea what to do, no one to turn to. I'd always been on my own, but now, in this moment, I felt more alone than ever before. I could feel the pressure building, a primal instinct telling me to push, but I didn't know what I was pushing for.
A sudden gush of warm fluid flooded my pants, soaking the bed beneath me. I stared down in horror as the wetness spread, my mind racing. Was my belly full of fluid? Was I dying? The pain was unbearable now, a constant pressure that seemed to be pushing me to the brink of madness. I didn't know what was happening, but I knew it was time. Time for what, I wasn't sure, but the urgency in my body was undeniable.
With trembling hands, I managed to take my pants off. They slid down my legs with ease, a stark contrast to the tightness that had become my daily struggle. My underwear was soaked, sticking to my skin, and when I peeled it away, I saw that the fluid was tinged with blood. My stomach lurched, and a scream tore from my throat, raw and primal. I had never felt anything like this before, and the sight of the blood only served to amplify the terror that was already coursing through me.
The contractions grew stronger, and I couldn't help but let out a low moan with each one. They were like waves, crashing into me and pulling me under, leaving me gasping for air. I curled up on the bed, my fists clenching the sheets as the pain grew more intense. There was a pressure building in my pelvis, a feeling of something pushing, demanding to be let out.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I felt a strange sensation, something moving, something that didn't belong inside me. The pain grew to a crescendo, and I couldn't hold it in anymore. I screamed, the sound echoing through the empty apartment, as I bore down with all my might. The pressure grew unbearable, and I felt something tearing, a sensation so intense that I thought I would split in two.
And then, amidst the pain, there was a moment of relief, a sudden release. I looked down between my legs to see a tiny, squalling creature, covered in blood and fluid, emerging from my body. It was a baby, a tiny, helpless baby, and it was mine. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks, and I sobbed even harder, my body shaking with the force of the contractions that hadn't ceased.
I didn't know what to do, so I did the only thing I could think of: I picked up the baby, cradling it in my arms. It was so small, so fragile, and it was looking up at me with eyes that hadn't yet focused. The crying was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard, a sound that brought with it a flood of emotions I didn't know I was capable of feeling. Fear, pain, and confusion swirled inside me like a tornado, but there was something else too, something warm and fierce: love.
I sat on the edge of the bed, my body exhausted, and just held the baby, rocking back and forth, trying to soothe its cries. The world outside felt so far away, like I was in a bubble, just the two of us. I didn't know how to change a diaper, how to feed it, or what to do next, but I knew I had to protect it. This tiny human being was mine, a part of me that I hadn't asked for, but a part of me nonetheless.
I work with a girl early 20s, totally adorable and very slim. Never wears make up looks like the perfect girl next door.
Anyways she grew up without a mom and her and I have gotten close because technically I am old enough to be her mother and she often comes to me for advice.
A few months ago she came to work walking a little bow legged and had apparently had her first 1 night stand with an older man who was probably twice her size and he gave it to her pretty hard. We kinda talked through it and she decided this probably wasn't someone she wanted to see again.
Then yesterday she comes in crying and turns out she is pregnant, already 4 months and scared out of her mind. She asked me a lot of questions and she wants to have the baby
Now all I can picture is her perfectly slim body being stretched to the limit by this guy's huge baby and her struggling to push it out. I can only hope I get to be there with her
Little update we will call her "Sadie" and I went to lunch today and I found out she has only had sex 3 times twice with her highschool boyfriend 4 years ago and then with this pig who got her pregnant. She literally has only been penetrated 3 times and has never had an orgasm even on her own.
She also has a pretty decent little bump at 4 months now I know it's there I can definitely see it. Her pants already don't button and she has been wearing untucked shirts to hide it. So we are going to go get her some new clothes afterwork. She also has her first sonogram in 10 days. She asked if I wanted to go...of course I'm going.
He has taken his Viagra and the midwife has given her the pitocin when he calls her over she crawls the contractions have just started.
He had been seated in a chair watching her body begin the labor process when he calls her over and tells her to straddle him sinking his pulsing cock completely into her letting it sit against her slightly dilated cervix.
"This is where you will stay until it's time to push baby" he says as he slowly thrusts into her.
As her labor progresses he had no need to thrust her moans and whimpers along with the strong contractions gripping his cock is all he needs to cum over and over again.
Egg so big that when its time to lay it, it is completely stuck behind your pelvis, no matter how hard you push. After days of struggle, your body gives up, your contractions fading away. You are completely exhausted and defeated, fully believing youâll be stuck with this egg inside you forever now. Days turn into weeks, and you try to keep on going, eating for two still. The odd contractions come and go, but labor never begins again.
Weeks later, one night, you go to sleep, you stomach cramping particular hard tonight, but you had long lost hope it could be actual contractions⌠And you wake up violently to a harsh, familiar tightening all across your tummy, as it misshapens in bursts that sink and stretch the skin in ways you never had seen before, but throw you into a world of agony completely unlike your first failed birth. You try to push, but you realize something heavy and monstrous is rolling inside you.
Something that is hatching, having been incubated in the warm refuge of your worm all this weeks, as if it had been laid, and isnât all that pleased about its new, small home.
You are realizing too late. Even the signs of labor your ignored- but there is no time now, as your womb tightens and demands you to push, and you grit your teeth, sinking your hands into your aching belly and do just that. Squeezed by your overtaxed womb, the creature is guided downwards, and as it realizes finally where its path to freedom lies, its shoves its head into your pelvis with such force you feel your bones creak, and birthing fluids soak your sheets. Strangely, you donât feel its shell, perhaps its soft, but you have no time to worry about that right now.
Another contraction envelopes you, and combined with the creatureâs efforts, it begins to breach your birth canal, your pelvis creaking ominously. You scream, sweating, toes curling with effort, but you refuse to stop pushing until your body lets go off you. The babe squirms impatiently, what you guess is its tail, thick and heavy, slapping your lungs, cutting off your breath, but as another contraction takes over, you push just as hard as before, if not harder.
Youâve been given a second opportunity, and your hips might have been too small to pass the giant egg, but you WILL give birth to this creature. Even if it breaks you.
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Your feet barely touched the ground before he had you inside his tent. One second you were speaking to him, the next his huge hand wrapped around your wrist, dragging you into the dim, musky space. The air smelled of leather, smoke, and male needâthick enough that your breath hitched.
He slammed the flap shut and turned, chest heaving, tusks bared in something that was not a smile. His eyes were glazed, pupils blown wide, his body trembling with the kind of hunger you could feel in your bones.
âNeed you,â he growled, voice rough like gravel grinding against stone. âNow.â
You had no time to answer. His massive hand fisted in your clothes and tore, fabric shredding like parchment. You gasped as cool air licked over your bare skin, nipples hardening instantly under his hungry gaze.
Then he was on youâpressing you down onto the furs, his weight a crushing, intoxicating force. His mouth found your neck, tusks scraping, teeth biting hard enough to bruise. You moaned as his tongue followed, hot and wet, marking you as his.
âMine,â he snarled into your throat, hips grinding against yours. You felt himâgods, you felt himâthick and hard, already leaking, straining against the rough hide pants that barely held him. The sheer size of him made your stomach twist with both fear and aching want.
He didnât bother undressing you gently. Your legs were spread wide by his hands, pinned apart as he ripped at his laces, freeing himself with a guttural sound that made your pulse stutter.
You glanced down and gasped. He was massive, thick veins bulging along his shaft, slick with precum that dripped down to his heavy balls. Your mouth went dry.
âToo bigââ you started, but he cut you off with a sharp kiss, teeth clashing against yours, his tongue invading your mouth until you were gasping against him.
âYou take me,â he grunted, voice low and shaking. âYou take all. Need to breed you, fill you, make you swollen with me.â
The words sent a jolt straight through you, heat pooling between your thighs. Your protest melted into a whimper as he pressed the broad head of his cock against your entrance, already slick from your arousal. He pushedâhard. The stretch was brutal, burning, tearing you open wider than you thought possible.
You clawed at his shoulders, nails digging into thick muscle. âFuckâitâsââ
âRelax,â he growled, forcing himself deeper, inch by merciless inch. âYou can take it. You will.â
The blunt crown popped inside with a shock of pain and pleasure that made your back arch. He didnât stop. He couldnât. He shoved forward until you were crying out, your walls fluttering helplessly around the sheer girth filling you. By the time his hips met yours, you were split wide, stuffed so full you swore you could feel him pressing against your stomach.
âPerfect,â he rasped, sweat dripping down his temple. âTight, hot⌠gods, youâre made for me.â
Then he moved.
The first thrust drove the air from your lungs, his hips slamming against yours with a wet, obscene slap. You screamed, nails dragging red lines down his back. He grunted in answer, rutting into you with animal desperation, each thrust deeper, harder, faster than the last. The furs beneath you grew damp with your slick as he used you, your body trembling from the force.
You could barely think, barely breathe. The stretch was overwhelming, the friction devastating, your clit grinding against the base of his cock with every savage thrust. Pleasure bloomed sharp and unbearable, your moans spilling loud and broken into the air.
âGonna fill you,â he panted, voice hoarse with need. âStuff you so full, youâll leak for days. Breed you till your belly round with my seed.â
The filth of it snapped something inside you. You came hard, body clenching down around him, milking him as stars burst behind your eyes. He roared, slamming deep, burying himself to the hilt as his cock pulsed violently inside you.
Hot, thick cum flooded your womb in heavy spurts, spilling past the seal of your stretched pussy to drip down your ass. You sobbed at the heat, at the fullness, at the way he kept thrusting through it, chasing more.
He didnât stop. Couldnât. Even as his seed leaked out, he growled and pulled back only to pound into you again, chasing another climax, another release. His rut had no endâonly need.
By the time his weight finally collapsed against you, your body was trembling, thighs sticky and soaked, cunt aching and stretched raw from being filled over and over. His cock still twitched inside you, stubbornly hard, as if ready to start all over again the moment he caught his breath.
His teeth scraped your ear, voice rough but softer now. âNot done. Gonna breed you all night.â
