morally strange kinkdom

30 minutes daily preggo sketch 243.

Pregnant Charlette's art rewards include 9 variants: bikini, nudes, pierced nipples, tan lines, sun burn, freckles, stretch marks and milk leaks.

They didn't exactly mean to go overboard but...Well, they're here now. Least they aren't hungry anymore.

By the third trimester Im practically immobilized by the babies. And you continue to worship the pinnacle of maternity, my massive swollen belly. Needless to say I have already started lactating, preparing for the hungry mouths to feed soon. Constantly pumping through the day and night. With each morning and night I have you drinking every drop from me, it becoming our ritual. We reach late in the last trimester, my body practically godly in its proportions, the perfect encapsulation of all of our hard work. Your service through this journey deeply appreciated.

The babies are just days away, soon hours, soon minutes. We prepared however. Cameras rolling as we document the whole birth, my mind goes blank from pushing, reaching an orgasmic high with each one to the point I convulse and scream, cumming all over myself repeatedly. The highs of it all will never be forgotten.

Soon my days consist of feeding the babys constantly. Though with how much feeding Im doing, there is still enough to share with you. My breasts absolutely engorged with milk if left unattended for more than a few hours. My body has found a new equilibrium, so much fuller than before, a body that has been shaped by you in large part. My hormones still driving me insane, making me hornier than Ive ever been. I cannot focus anymore and make the decision for us. I need to be pregnant again, and again, and again until I have nothing more to give. It has been a few months since the pregnancy and once again I climb on top of you and tell you of my insatiable need. I think you can fill in what happens next~

>signed: a mid 20s tgirl that’s constantly dreaming of being knocked up like this

It's been nearly two hours since your friend said they'd "be right back." You've already gently asked everyone else you can recall being in the cafe last time they were seen, even at risk of seeming a bit strange for interrogating everyone who returned from the restrooms. The only one you hadn't questioned yet was a patron at the opposite side of the room, who had been in a hushed yet clearly tense conversation over the phone for seemingly the past hour. Arguably more attention-grabbing, however, is his massive belly - it seems like a miracle the thick turtleneck sweater he wears is long and stretchy enough to cover the vast expanse of his midsection. You felt bad realizing you were kind of staring at some point, but you weren't exactly alone in that fact. Plenty of other guests seated around the cafe had been stealing glances or outright lustfully glued to the undulating mass that was presumably in his womb, or the engorged pecs that sat atop it.

You wait until the phonecall ends before anxiously approaching his table, trying not to let your eyes wander as you finally address him.  "Sorry to bother, but um... I was wondering if you happened to know where my friend went?" Thankfully, his furrowed expression softens, and you take the opportunity to start explaining the situation and describe what your friend looks like. He nods along, and once you finish speaking he takes a moment to think. In the silence, you have to stop yourself from jumping back when an alarmingly large lump presses itself against the side of the young man's belly, as though it were trying to move itself towards you. He hardly winces, as though its nothing out of the ordinary.

"Ooph-- Sorry about that. I think I do know where they went though..! It's a little hard to explain, I'd better just show you."

Before you can advise against it, he's attempting to foist his bloated form up out of the armchair. The kicking apparently didn't pose a problem, but trying to stand up is clearly a taxing process, and the movement makes the baby (babies? You're still unsure) ever more restless, squirming perilously under the surface of his skin. It's hard to imagine just how warped his belly must be with every roll and stretch, assuming they were impossibly more intense beneath the heavy-fabric sweater. Even still, he finally manages to get up on his feet, waddling slowly but surely along. You follow behind without a second thought as he leads you out of the cafe and around the block; it's not a terribly far walk for you, but it takes just a few minutes before the heavily pregnant boy starts huffing and puffing, leaning against the lamppost of a dead intersection with one arm and clutching at his burgeoning belly with the other.  You can't help but ask if he's alright, worried he might be about to pop here and now. He mutters between heaving breaths, turning to face you.  "I'm-- I'll be fffine... They're just... hungry..."

It's terrifying. In a second, you're in his unexpectedly, inhumanly strong grip. In the next, you're sliding down his gullet. It's wet, hot, and slick all around you, almost suffocatingly tight and there's very little improvement when you reach his stomach. Acid nips at your skin, slowly beginning to chew through your clothes, and the constant sloshing from the rowdy uterus below threatens to speed up the process. Like a final nail in the coffin, you realize that beneath the gurgling and churning you can hear faint pleas that sound all too familiar. You couldn't save them, and they couldn't save you. A belch rumbles out from above, and his stomach squeezes against you even tighter. "Sooorry you two...~ I just... I needed to be full..."