Birthing in Short Skirts

This is a sex worker-friendly space. Sex work is valid work.

This is a disability friendly space. You have the same rights to a sex life as anyone else. If something I do breaks screen readers, let me know.

This space is friendly for people of all ethnic and racial groups.

What this space is not friendly towards is far-right trash. Some of my followers seem to think that for them to have their sexual fantasy of being a submissive housewife, others need to be oppressed. That is wrong and I reject you. Also, I think you are stupid. Not in the fun way of bimbos or the silly way I mock, but in the sense that you should be slapped every time you speak. Not in the kinky sense but in shut the fuck up sense.

If you think 47 is a good person, I reject you. If you have a problem with this, I give not a single shit.

When it happens, I can tell exactly when it really hits you; that deep, insistent ache from inside.

To be fair, that in itself isn't entirely new, it's been happening on and off all day, but all it takes is a little firm reassurance on my end for you to leave the matter where it lies. After all, you trust me entirely; you trusted me when I explained away your weight gain over the past several months as nothing more than an unfortunate concentration of water weight around your midsection, and you even trusted me when I easily rationalized your water breaking an hour ago as just a spontaneous accident, and certainly nothing that would warrant us missing out on our trip.

That was your first mistake.

"Stop squirming," I murmur, noticing the way you've been trying to find a comfortable position for the last fifteen minutes. Your apology is quiet, marked by a hitch in your breath, and I don't miss the way your hands are currently grasping at the edge of your seat. "People are going to stare, you know," I add, although it's a little late for this; just about everyone on this train has taken notice of the clearly uncomfortable and quite heavily pregnant girl, and some have already whispered among themselves, wondering if it's even safe for you to be traveling in your condition.

Of course, you haven't heard a word of it, not when you're so focused on trying not to sweat and squirm in your seat beside me.

"I-I don't feel good…it feels like s-something is—"

"Didn't you hear me the first time? It's nothing, now stop it," I admonish you coldly, narrowing my eyes down at you. God, you look so good like this, with your cheeks flushed and brows furrowed, trying so hard to be good for me no matter how much your body is screaming that something is wrong. "Just sit. Still. No wriggling, no whining, and no pushing."

Confusion flickers through your eyes at the last words, but before you can even ask what I mean, you press your lips firmly together, whimpering as another tight, dreadful pain tightens its grip around your midsection. Sweat beads at your temples, and I can see the way your belly visibly contorts with the force of the contraction. I want to touch it, want to feel the sensation of those babies I put in you moving steadily downward, but I keep my hands to myself. For now.

Unfortunately for you, it becomes clear that whatever is happening to you is getting impossible to ignore, and when you shift in your seat once again I can see a significant bulging in your leggings that wasn't there when we had first sat down. Tears stream down your face as you try to tell me that something's wrong, something is stretching your poor little pussy wide open, but the pain has stolen all the sound from your throat and left you a whimpering mess as you try to obey me, try not to push.

You last all of fifteen seconds.

"It h-hurts, it's burning, I can't—" you moan through clenched teeth, and the bulge in your leggings grows bigger as whatever it is seems to be forcing its way out of you whether you make the conscious choice to push or not. When you finally give in and bear down against my wishes, a strangled mix between a yelp and a sob tears its way out of you, and all at once the soaked fabric between your legs stretches outward with a solid, squirming mass. I make no move to help you as you fumble to pull them down enough to reveal the wriggling, wailing baby that had just been born into your pants, a baby you had most certainly known nothing about.

Loud murmurs and hurries whispers of our fellow passengers erupt around us, and as you look up at me with a desperate question in your eyes, all I can do is shake my head disapprovingly. "You just couldn't do the one thing I asked of you," I click my tongue condescendingly. "and now all of these people are going to have to watch you give birth again."

Your face drains of what little color remains, but before you can open your mouth to ask what I mean, you feel it again; that awful, contracting tightness from within you, that feeling of something massive inching its way down. The cry that tears free of you almost seems to harmonize with the wails of your first baby, but instead of giving in and pushing, you shakily try to press your thighs closed.

send an ask with a string of emojis from below to build a birth prompt!

CARRIER GENDER

🤰  female 🫃  male 🫄  nonbinary

TYPE OF BIRTH

🍼 human 🥚 egg ❔ nonhuman (specify)

NUMBER OF BABIES

1️⃣  Singleton 2️⃣  Twins 3️⃣  Triplets 4️⃣  Quads #️⃣  Other (Specify)

LOCATION

🌲  forest 🏖️  beach 🏠  home 🚜  farm 🏢  office building 🏥  hospital 🛒  store 🚃  train/subway 🚗  car 🚌  bus ⛵  boat ✈️  plane 🧭  other (requestor specify)

MANNER OF DENIAL

🩲  tight clothing 🫴  holding head 🖐️  pushing baby back in 🔒  chastity belt 🪢  legs tied together 🤸  bad positions 💬  being told not to push 🛑  refusing to push 💊  medication 🔌 plug/other toy 🚩  forced denial 🏳️  willing denial 🃏  other (requestor specify)

POSITIONS

🧍  standing 🪑  sitting 🧎  kneeling 🙇  all fours 🛌  laying down 🦵  squatting 💧  water birth 🧘  other (requestor specify)

COMPLICATIONS

🦶  footling breech 👣  frank breech 🍳  posterior baby 💪  shoulder dystocia 💨  precipitous (extremely short) labor 🐢  prolonged labor ⌛  overdue

BONUSES!

All manner of voices find their way to you; some shy and unsure, while others can be abrasive and demanding. Hell, half of the time you barely have to do or say a damn thing while harsh panting emanates from your headphones as the person on the other end clearly only needs to know you’re listening in order to get off. There are times, though, when you find yourself engaging in specific fantasies of your callers, and those are often the most unique ones of all.

For example, tonight’s caller.

“Ooh, that one sounded like it hurt,” you purr, listening intently as the woman on the other end pants and breathes in a specifically measured way. She had called in ten minutes ago, her voice hushed and thick with anticipation, and you’d listened attentively as she explained the premise of her call: she was in labor. It isn’t the strangest thing you’ve had to play along with by far, and as the minutes tick by and her ‘contractions’ grow stronger, you inwardly find yourself much more aroused by this than you would’ve thought.

“Mnhh, they’re getting so much stronger now…” she breathes in confirmation, which earns a sound from you that is both sympathetic and teasing.

“Tell me how it feels,” you prompt, reclining back in your chair. Your fingertips trace lazily at your waistline as you do so, silently debating whether to slip further downward. Not yet, you decide. “I want to know everything, sweetheart.” There’s a faint click on the other end, perhaps the sound of your caller’s throat as she swallows hard.

“The pressure is…i-it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before,” the woman murmurs, her voice slightly strained as she fights to speak through what you assume is another one. “I can f-feel the baby moving downwards, little by little…my body’s been opening up for it all day, so it won’t be long until—!” Her sentence abruptly halts, and your eyes widen slightly as you hear what sounds like a faint splashing sound, liquid hitting another surface, the floor perhaps?

Whoever this caller is, she’s really committed to this fantasy, and you’re all too happy to be along for the ride, however odd it may be.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you croon once you’ve gathered yourself again, immersing yourself into her strange roleplay. “Did your water just break?” It takes a second for her to answer you, and for the briefest moment you wonder if the call has dropped. Her voice returns a second later, though, accompanied by that same anticipatory tremor she had when the call first began.

“There’s…fuck, there’s so much of it,” she whispers, grunting softly as she makes herself comfortable, or so you assume. “I-it just keeps coming…the bottom half of my dress is soaked through.”

“Well that won’t do,” you tsk, idly slipping a hand down the front of your pants as you tend to the budding arousal your caller has stoked in you. “It sounds like you’d better take it off, right…?” You draw out the last word seductively, and the effect is instantaneous. She whimpers into your ear before you hear the rustle of fabric, and you imagine what must be happening; her hands shaking slightly as she grasps the hem of her dress, pulling the drenched garment up and off of herself. You shiver slightly as you envision what her pregnant body might look like, before reminding yourself that this is purely roleplay, and you should keep it moving along. “Good girl. Now the rest of it, unless…?”

“T-there isn’t anything else,” she murmurs, almost coyly, and this elicits a pleased sound from you. Your hand works steadily between your legs as you listen to her heavy breaths, no doubt another of her ‘contractions’, and you’re surprised at how much this is actually turning you on. This job certainly has been a journey of self discovery, if nothing else.

“O-ohh—!” This time her voice is laced with urgency, and part of you wonders if she’s actually in pain. But that’s ridiculous, you reason to yourself; if this woman was actually in active labor, there’s no way she would be still on the line with you. No, you tell yourself as you listen to her moaning and panting, she’s just very good at this.

“Sounds like there isn’t much time left,” you purr, and the moan this earns makes a pleased smirk spread across your face. “Am I right, sweetheart? Is it time for my good girl to start pushing?”

“M-mngh, yes…!” she whimpers, and you hear more rustling as she repositions herself. Your mind conjures images of what your caller might look like, sitting naked against the headboard of her bed, legs spread to make room for her swollen belly. You swear under your breath as the image urges your fingers to move faster, but if she hears you she says nothing of it.

“C’mon then, pretty girl,” you urge, curious to see how far she wants to take her fantasy. “Push for me, let me hear it…”

Her response isn’t verbal, but it’s very much audible. A deep, almost primal grunting as she seems to bear down, straining until eventually letting up with a gasp for air. “Coming, it’s c-coming…” she pants, and you absently lick your lips before responding.

“Mm, what a productive push that must’ve been…give me another,” you order, your pulse racing as you hear her obey almost too eagerly. “Again,” you urge when she lets up, reveling in how much she’s become utterly lost in her fantasy. “Again…”

You have no idea how long this call has gone on for, but that doesn’t bother you in the slightest. All you know is that she’s enjoying herself just as much as you are; moans seamlessly intertwining with her cries of mock pain. Until at last, her voice rings out again, seeming to reverberate through your headphones.

“O-ohhhfuck it’s right there—“

“Keep pushing, you’re close, I know you’re close…”

“F-fuck…mnnhhgh!!”

The sounds she makes are unlike anything you’ve heard before, and as you feel yourself reaching your own peak you make a note to thank her for this strange new kink she’s helped you to unlock. Her last moan is a desperate, guttural scream, and there’s a soft muffled sound that must be her slumping back against the headboard. Before you can say a word, though, you hear something else on the other end, something peeking through your caller’s exhausted, labored breaths.

Something that sounds an awful lot like wailing.