PreggomyEggo

I’ve written something that fills the desire for more “fluff”. I hope you enjoy.

Imagine you’re a woman whose secret pregnancy fetish has been a minor source of embarrassment. You had several boyfriends from your teens to twenties, but you never informed any of these casual relationships of your desires. You masturbate to fertile, swollen goddesses on your own and obsess over the future when your body carries out its womanly duties. You’ve always been on the plump side and have been blessed with perky (and sensitive) DDD bosoms. You dream of a time when your belly will grow for the right reasons and your already pendulous breasts will become massive. You value yourself too much to let just any man impregnate you just for the hell of it.  You aren’t searching for “Mr. Right” JUST to have a baby, if he comes, it’ll be because he is the right man for you.

You find your man in your late 20’s. He loves you, your body, and is emotionally attentive and supportive- everything you could ever want in a husband and partner. You readily accept his proposal when he asks, and are married soon after. Your lovemaking in your early marriage is for enjoyment, not procreation; you both wanted some “alone time” before creating a family. Two years into your marriage you both decide it is the right time to expand your family. In all of this time you never shared your fetish with your loving husband, for fear of judgement- a silly notion since he’s always supported your every need. Fortunately you find yourself with child a few months into trying for a baby. Nausea left you a bit incapacitated sexually during the first trimester, but you’re coming out of that stage and ready to enjoy your blossoming figure.

As you enter your fourth month, your normally soft body is beginning to round out in new ways. Your belly, always having pushed in front of you a bit, is now obstructing view of your toes. Your breasts struggle against the confines of your bra but to be honest, you’ve always hated wearing one and have been dying to ditch the boulder holder for years. This couldn’t have pleased your husband more. He has always cherished your body but now that it is creating life, he worships you. Anything you could possibly want sexually before the pregnancy, he would do. Now your man’s jaw drops at the sight of your naked body- he is so enamored it’s like a spell has been cast. He spends most of the time that you’re together teasing your growing nipples. You’ve always enjoyed this immensely, but pre-pregnancy, the shape of your nipples sweet a slight disappointment. As sensitive as they had always been, your flat and puffy nips left something to be desired. You dreamed of teats, for lack of a better word. You wanted those flat little mounds to swell into hardened nibs that hubby could really tug and pleasure. Thanks to the growing life inside you, you’re getting what you want. With all of his loving ministrations, your breasts swelled quite quickly and the toppers are now half an inch long and thick as your pinky finger. You let your husband rub your belly and tickle your nipples as much as he wants and the pleasure only grows as your body does.

Your sixth month of pregnancy begins with a bit of a shock. You have a scan on the morning, and hubby always attends. You roll out of bed and waddle to your closet, trying to find a light dress in your wardrobe that will cover your growing body, but be cool enough in the July heat. Not to mention, your outgrown all your bras and your watermelons are on display no matter what you wear. You find the last of your stretchy summer jumpers and tug it over your swollen form. The dress hugs every curve and seems to have risen inches higher to cover your belly. Your husband walks by and spies you standing in front of your mirror, rubbing your belly and smiling. He comes up behind you and cradles your belly in his strong hands. He softly rakes his fingers up and down the girth, and whispers into your ear.

“I’ve always loved your body”, he says. “But since you’ve been growing our child, I’ve never been able to have enough of you. I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but I’ve dreamed of this day since we met. I’ve always wanted to breed my dream woman and you are her. I’ve never been more turned on than I am by you at this moment, and I hope to keep you this way for as long as you’ll let me”. There’s more news as he continues, “My family has created a trust fund for me, and I have more than enough money for us and however many babies we decide to have. You no longer have to work. Please spend your days at home with me, and let me shower you and our children with all the love and safety this world has to offer”.

His words catch you so off guard that your body betrays you and the shivers sent down your spine make you shake. You decide to confess your lifelong passion for pregnancy and right then you both agree to continue to grow your family as much as possible. Hours later in the doctor’s office, your dream is realized; the reason you’ve grown so quickly is that you’re carrying twins.

Another few weeks into gestation, it is the end of summer and finding clothing to wear is unbearable. You’d rather be naked, and at this point, you spend the majority of your days in nothing but small shorts and a light cotton tank top that creeps up your swollen torso day by day. It’s doesn’t cover much, but basically just contains your massive breasts. Your husband spends his days building cribs and a bureau for your babies, and this makes him even more attractive to you. He’s never without an erection and your nipples are at constant attention, which he readily takes advantage of. You spend so much time making love, with him teasing your delicate nipples, that you begin to leak. This proves to enhance your lovemaking even more. Hubs latches on and sucks greedily, all the while swirling his tongue around your inch-long, thumb-thick teats. This is the life you had dreamed of for so long.

Forty weeks have passed, and your doctor is amazed that you’ve carried your twin boys this far past what is considered normal for a multiples pregnancy. You lay on her table for examination, cradling your giant belly in both arms- you definitely need to support. Your belly is so large that you’re measuring ten weeks past due with a singleton baby. You think about how happy you are in your life, and how silly it is that you’re relieved that your family and friends got used to seeing you in thin flowing skirts and bandeau tops weeks ago. No one judges, everyone just takes pleasure in your happiness. You snap back into reality when your doctor suggests having vigorous sessions of lovemaking to help make your boys appear. You and your man both readily agree.

That night your lovemaking is so intense you swear they can hear your moans in Africa, or at least a few blocks over. Hubs has pulled you to the edge of your bed, when he is able to enter your swollen and sensitive folds and is also able to engulf your breasts with his strong and gentle hands. His tweaking of your nipples coupled with him throbbing inside you is enough to make you cum so many times you’ve lost count. Your engorged breasts- so large they stand up on their own- are squirting liquid gold all over. This sends your husband into a frenzy, and it spurs him on. He bends over to suckle, pushing his erection even farther into you, hitting points of pleasure that make you scream. Your vagina and nipples feel as if they are one, and you beg him to suck harder on your teats: it feels as though his tongue is entering them the same way his manhood enters your love tunnel and this turns you on more than anything. Your constant screams push him to the edge, and he cums harder than ever. You pull his face to yours, and tasting your sweet juices, kiss him more lovingly than a woman has ever kissed her man. Moments later, your water breaks.

(if people like this I can think of lots more to write in this scenario! So I hope everyone likes it)I hated my office job, so I wasn’t too sad when I got laid off. A new daycare was opening on the other side of town so I thought I’d apply - I love kids and wanted some of my own one day. But it wasn’t a normal sort of daycare. I thought they seemed weirdly obsessed with health screenings and drug tests and stuff but I didn’t find out why until my first day.

I don’t really know how the technology works. It’s all very secret and patented and all kinds of things. They just told me a lot about how safe it was. All I know is, you get in one pod thing, and a pregnant woman gets in the other, and you’re both strapped in in all kinds of places, and when the technician has finished pushing buttons you’re the one who’s pregnant. Then she can go off and do what she wants - like go on a flight, or get drunk, or just feel normal for a while - and at the end of your shift she takes her baby back.

They charge these women a lot so the pay is good, and the facilities are fantastic - you can’t leave the site while you’re carrying, but they have hotel rooms if you need to stay over, and all your meals are provided (it’s very heavy on the health food but that’s okay).

Some of the staff don’t stay very long - they say it’s ‘too weird’, or they just hate being pregnant. But I love it! I didn’t realise I would. I don’t want an actual baby right now, but I love feeling pregnant, especially since I don’t have to do anything but enjoy it. I love having a round belly to stroke, I know I look really cute, and I love feeling the babies move around. I’ve worked here six months now. I’m only scheduled to work three days a week - the pay is that good that you can easily manage on that - but I come in most days. The manager knows she can always call me if they’re busy.

And who needs a day off when I’m being paid to spend all evening watching TV! The client has gone to her best friend’s bachelorette party, and was talking very excitedly about how drunk she was going to get, so I’m here overnight, and possibly overnight tomorrow as well (she won’t take her baby back until her blood alcohol level is low enough). Right now I’m eight months pregnant.

And I feel great. I’m sitting up in the bed, with a big pile of pillows behind me, watching a movie. I’ve got a delicious smoothie. And I’ve got my pajamas on, but they don’t really fit, with the waistband tucked down under my huge belly and the top folded up under my breasts. I can feel the baby kicking and wonder if it knows it’s somewhere new.

I put the smoothie down and stroke my hands over my belly. At first it was so strange to me, being suddenly very pregnant, but now I’m used to it. I love when my skin feels so tight and stretched. Third trimester transfers are definitely my favourite.

“It’s okay, baby,” I say. “I’m just the babysitter. Mommy will be back soon.” It kicks me again and I feel the skin stretch slightly at that point. “You should be glad you’ve got plenty of room in there,” I said. “Sometimes it gets crowded.”

The first couple of months I worked here they just gave me one baby at a time. Once I was used to that I started getting more. If it’s just one first trimester baby you hardly notice it at all - you don’t get as sick as the actual mother, I don’t know why, just sometimes a little bit. Two or three and you start to show. The most babies I’ve carried at once was five, but that was only for an hour or so until one client returned (I asked the technician how she was sure she gave people their right baby back and she went on a long speech about DNA tagging that I didn’t understand, I just hope she gets it right every time!). I was pretty big then, bigger than this, I think two of those babies were second trimester and three first. I felt so full, it was fantastic. Since then we haven’t been so busy, and we’ve had some new staff. A few of them are talking about quitting, though, so maybe we’ll be short-staffed again soon.

I hope so. If I’m here a couple of days with this baby there’s a good chance they’ll give me another. I stroke my belly again, trying to push it forward even more. I think about that day I carried five babies. The manager called me up, sounding seriously stressed, because only one other staff member had turned up and she had a dozen clients booked in. When I got here and went into her office I could see what she meant - she was leant back in her chair, barely able to reach her desk over her belly, that was clearly stuffed full. That’s how I know we’re really busy - she’s so dedicated and hates to turn anyone down! She did have to make a couple of walk-ins wait until some clients had collected their babies. I’m sure I could have fit one more. Maybe I’ll manage six another time.

I’m in luck tonight. The movie has just finished and I’m thinking about taking a bath when there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

“Hi, Cathy,” my manager says. Sometimes she wears a suit but tonight she’s in uniform - a tight, stretchy purple t-shirt and black leggings - and when I look, sure enough she has a medium-sized bump under her top. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m great,” I say, because I am. “What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you could do me a favour,” she said. “Mel has called in sick and -”

“It’s fine,” I say. “I’m here anyway.”

“It’s a single pregnancy, 21 weeks. I’d take it myself but I have a lot of running about to do. Can you manage?”

“Sure, no problem.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

My manager sighs. “Oh, you’re a star. Come on, then,” and she helps pull me up from the bed. I’m already so big that getting up is a problem. I think about how much bigger I’ll be in a few minutes and bite my lip in anticipation.

It takes me a few minutes to waddle along to the transfer room. A nervous-looking pregnant woman watches me strap myself in. “Is this okay?” she says. “If she’s already, you know…”

“It’s fine,” the technician assures her. “We do this all the time.”

I close my eyes. I pulled my pajama top down over my belly when I left my room but it barely stretches. I adjust it surreptitiously so that it doesn’t suddenly ping up or tear when the transfer happens. I should have changed back into my uniform (that top really is SUPER stretchy) but it’s hard when you’re already huge.

“Here we go,” the technician says, and I sigh as I feel my belly stretch that much more. The fabric of my pajama top is stretched super tight now, so tight I can hardly breathe. When I get back to my room I’m going to take it off.

The client leaves, thanking everyone profusely for ‘fitting her in’. “Did you manage to fit her in, Cathy?” the tech says after she’s gone. I just about manage to reach round my massive belly. “I think so,” I said. “Wow, that’s more than I thought it would be.”

“You’re so good at this,” she says, taking my arm and helping me waddle back to my room. “I wish we had a whole team just like you.”

“You’ve never been tempted to give it a go?” I ask. She laughs.

“I’m the only one who knows how to work the machine! I can’t do it to myself. Although she’s tried to talk me into it, I’m not sure. It looks pretty uncomfortable.”

“I actually love it,” I confess. “I’d love to see how many babies I can carry at once.”

“Really?” she looks at me thoughtfully. “What’s your record so far?”

“Five.”

“I’ll look at the bookings. See what I can do.” She grins at me as she opens my room door and helps me inside. “If that’s what you want. Now get some rest.”

This was about a month ago:

And this was two days ago: