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his favorite piece, you ask? your underwear. not just any but the ones you wear after going to the gym or the ones you wear when you cum in your pants

the gym panties are so addictive ♡ there’s this musk and sweat from your cock that clings to the fabric that he could never never get sick of

the smell he gets from them is so different from your usual clean soap scent from your body. don’t get him wrong! he loves the usual fresh smell, it makes him feel safe and loved! but there’s something about the smell from your panties that gets his hole wet and clenching ♡

sometimes in the morning he likes to wake you up by rubbing your half hard cock and that’s where he gets your cum stained underwear

well you know it can get lonely when you’re at work so even if he has to hold back in the morning to pull down your underwear and swallow that thick goopy cum down his throat for breakfast

in exchange he gets to suck the cum off the panties throughout the day! it’s like his little snack you know~

he’s really protective over laundry duties if you couldn’t tell already, even though he’s in no position to be tending to these dirty and trivial duties

other manor servants know by now that the laundry is strictly off limits unless they want to be stuck with taking care of the massive garden in the manor alone for a whole month

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

There are mornings where it’s not the chirping birds or the sun rays of the morning sun shining between the gaps of the curtains and into your room that wake you up.

Instead, it’s the slurping sounds your maid is making between your legs. Taking your thick cock into his mouth and running his tongue beneath you length.

He might look like a kitten but he sure doesn’t do kitten licks with you.

You combed your hands through his hair to make him look up at you while holding your cock down his throat.

“Goo-w nghhh♡”

slurp

“mo-wn-ing♡”

slurp

“mah-star♡”

You smiled at the attempt and place your hand gently your maids head to encourage him to take you all the way the base,

“Good morning Aeres.”

Aeres throat was used to this daily exercise and tried to clench his throat around your cock without gagging at the length.

Hollowing his cheeks, he tried to rock his face back and forth against your crotch. Trying to get the thick white liquid shooting out of your cock.

Pulling back slightly to suck on your head and circling his tongue on the tip and rubbing it on the whole cock to taste the salty pre cum

You moaned at the ministration and came down Aeres throat. Pushing his head back to the base again and feeling him suck the white cum coming of your cock.

Aeres finally let go on his death grip of your now soft cock. He crawled onto your lap and waiting for you to sit up on your bed to face him.

You smiled, there were times that Aeres liked to do this before you head off to work. While you pushed yourself off so you could be sitting a position.

Aeres waited with his mouth open showing you the pool of thick white goo, arching his back and placing his hands on your chest leaning towards you. His hips were inpatient and whined while rubbing against your thighs.

He didn’t need to beg further as you dipped two fingers into his mouth and began rubbing against the cum against his tongue.

“A-aaaah♡ nghhh♡♡~”

Aeres moaned against your fingers while you made sure to spread it on top of the roof of his mouth and thrusting your fingers towards the back of this throat. Coming back to Aeres tongue to rub the cum into his taste buds making sure he remembers what your cum tastes like.

Once you had your fill, you closed his jaw with your stained fingers while wiping the cum mixed drool from his lips,

“Swallow for me.”

Aeres gulped audibly at your command and opened his mouth for you to check that he emptied its contents.

Closing in the distance to entangle his tongue with yours and you could taste yourself slightly on his tongue.

She was in her third and final year of the rigorous Goodcarrier training. She’d been impregnated with a surrogate child at the end of her first month and had remained pregnant ever since. Carrying her surrogate child well past the due date was excellent practice for her future placements where she is sure to carry many children, sometimes at once, and birth frequently. To prepare for birth, Miss Stella had been practicing birthing large, weighted objects under the strict observation of the Goodcarrier staff. Miss Stella is proud to have earned high marks throughout her career at Goodcarrier. Giving birth today would be both happy and sad as she loved her very overdue belly but couldn’t wait to give birth for real this time. Her contractions had started just on time this morning and she’d showered and eaten a light breakfast as her waters broke. The toddler—who squirmed often in the little space he had available— had shifted down years prior and so he was very ready to emerge from her tight cervix. Miss Stella dropped the shower robe and crawled sideways onto her bed. Her belly, full of a large toddler, had long prevented her from doing anything gracefully. She wrapped an arm under her immense belly and hefted it into place on the cushion so that she could birth on her knees. The toddler shifted inside her and her belly visibly roiled. “Aaah baby, don’t get too excited! Shh, shh,” Miss Stella rubbed her hands into her swell to soothe the baby. He always responded well to her voice and her touch and so soon her belly calmed. Already sweating and panting from the exertion of getting into place, Miss Stella reached behind herself and arched her back as much as she could in an effort to probe her open pussy and measure her dilation. Her womb pressed into the bed, making her gasp. Slick dripped onto the underside of her womb. Her long fingers managed to slip in and she decided she could start pushing the eager toddler out. His head soon entered her canal, followed quickly by his shoulders. Miss Stella started to moan and cry, clutching her drum-tight belly as her precious cargo, who had previously been quite comfortably kept within her womb, began to crown. Her pink lips parted and a full head of hair could be seen. Miss Stella squirted all over the bed when she glanced over her shoulder at the wall mirror. The baby’s head was at full crown-stretching her tight pussy incredibly wide. Her expression was one of obscene rapture, her back arched, plush ass spread above splayed knees. Her arms could be seen gripping her pulsing womb that totally filled the bed before her, desperately attempting to keep the child inside but slipping in their grasp as milk dripped from her swollen breasts and slickened her skin. In that moment, as the toddler’s shoulders made their way out, Miss Stella realized that she had made exactly the right decision when enrolling at the Goodcarrier Academy of Nannies. She belonged like this, incredibly full of baby, breasts leaking, and pussy soaked. When the baby slipped the rest of the way out, she pulled him to her breasts and birthed the placenta. She recovered from birth quickly and efficiently handled the medical and legal necessities which followed a child’s birth. The toddler was collected by another nanny in training, who still waddled with the weight of the toddler in his womb, that lucky nanny. “How was it?” he asked politely. “I can’t wait for my placement to do it again,” Miss Stella replied. He blushed and cupped his own belly as he walked away with her toddler in his other arm, clearly anticipating his own impending birth. *** Miss Stella Cherry had completed her internship with a diplomat’s family that had a two year old in need of a nanny, but sadly no need for a pregnancy transfer or birth. As soon as she had her certificate of being a fully qualified Goodcarrier Nanny, she scoured the request board for parents interested in the more specialized parts of their training. Ding! An email from Headmistress Gloria Snatcher of Goodcarrier Academy of Nannies. Miss Stella squealed in excitement

when she opened the email. The key part of the email read: Sir Coque requires a nanny prepared for a number of births along with wet-nursing for the next several years. We recognize your particular enjoyment of this aspect of our services and we wish inquire as to your interest. He is offering a yearly stipend of …” You immediately accept. The next day, you board a plane for the countryside castle which will be your home for the next several years. When you arrive, you are ushered into a nice suite where you settle your personal effects. Smoothing that seductive uniform you once admired on others over your plush breasts and rounded buttocks, you deem yourself prepared to meet the family. Imagine your surprise when you discover that Sir Coque is the only one waiting for you in the lavishly appointed receiving room you’d been directed to by a maid. He’s a handsome man in his mid thirties and clearly born to nobility. His hair is impeccably cut and his clothes are equally impeccably tailored. He gives you a slow once over, pausing at each curve, before meeting your curious gaze. He smiles at the implied question in your raised brows. He clears his throat delicately before beginning, “Miss Cherry, as you have obviously surmised, I have neither a spouse nor children. I am not particularly in want of a spouse, but I am in want of children. As nobility, I need heirs and as a man, I would like to be a father.’’ He pauses to let that sink in before continuing. “I am, in fact, married, but it is merely a marriage of state and she resides permanently in Paris. We rarely interact. Thus, I am in need of someone to sire children on as well as rear them. That’s where you come in, I hope you agree.” He’s still looking at you intently. Miss Stella finds herself a bit flabbergasted. Any children a Goodcarrier carries are always as surrogates, even if the transfer occurs a mere week after conception. Sir Coque’s intentions with her are far clearly including her own eggs. “Sir Coque, are you not, perhaps, describing the role of a mistress or a whore?” Miss Stella asks softly. He chuckles and shakes his head before replying, “My children sired on you will be legitimate heirs, as all Goodcarrier children are, but my wife hasn’t the need to participate in any way.” Miss Stella is less certain than he is about the divisions between his depiction of a mistress or whore and this request, but a Goodcarrier Nanny’s job is to help ease the lives and burdens relating to childbirth and childrearing for their employers. More importantly, her pussy is already soaked at the thought of being stuffed full and knocked up again. It’s been a long few months with an empty womb. She shivers slightly in pleasure at the memory of being so full in her first pregnancy. With this job, hopefully it will be the first of many pregnancies. Taking a deep breath under Sir Coque’s watchful gaze, she nods sharply once. “I am happy to accept your proposal.” He grins wolfishly at her acceptance. “When shall we begin?” Miss Stella asks, expecting the answer to be after dinner or perhaps next week. Sir Coque rises from his chair suddenly and pulls her into his body by her waist. “Right now will do just fine” he says into her mouth as he kisses her. Miss Stella soon finds herself incredibly far from the polished image of the Goodcarrier Nannies she once cherished. Sir Coque had swept her into the bedroom and ravished her. Her red heels dangled from her feet over the edge of the bed on either side of his moving hips. Her skirt was torn off and her bare ass was propped up high. His large hands spread her pussy open as his bare cock slammed in and out, slick squelching indecently. Her shirt was missing and her brassier hung open with her breasts swinging in front of her. Miss Stella’s makeup was smeared across her face and the bed in front of her. She squirted and clenched wetly around his cock until he finally thrust in as deep as he could and filled her up with hot cum while whispering about how hot she’ll be all huge with his babies. She was so excited she came again when he

The dress code was the only thing that gave you pause. It was written in the contract that you would wear nothing but an incredibly short skirt and skin tight tank top to accentuate your chest. No underwear, no bra, only high heels. Whatever necessary to make it easier for the CEO to get what he wanted.

On days like this, when he has meetings back to back and can’t get away to find you, you have to come to him. Everyone is used to seeing you by now so they don’t bat an eye when you walk in and bend over the conference room table, presenting your slick wet cunt to him. He wastes no time pulling his huge cock out and burying it into your hole, pounding into you hard enough to make the table rock. And the best part is he never stops the meeting. You’re fucked and used in front of everyone like a slut, and you love it.

He fills your hole so well, so much that you couldn’t move on to anyone else even if you wanted to. No one else could make you feel the way he did. And when you found out you were pregnant? It only made him hornier.

When you first started showing, your slight pouch pushing out against the skin tight tank top, he fucked you into the floor of his office, slapping your ass hard enough to leave welts. But when he finished, you pulled your skirt down and stood, moving to your own chair in the corner of the room, awaiting your next assignment.

The days went by and your belly grew larger every day. No doubt from the copious amounts of come he constantly fucked into you, but also from the babies growing inside you. The pregnancy made you even hornier too, actually leaking enough to drip down your thighs. And it drove him crazy.

One day he took you on someone else’s desk, unable to wait until you made it back to his office. And he’d discovered something new as well, a new toy he’d use when he really wanted your legs to tremble.

He’d bury himself deep in your cunt, pushing against your womb, and then he’d pinch your clit and nipple at the same time, making you scream and squirt all over everything. The floor, his desk, his lap, the chairs, whatever was underneath you, it got wet.

The dress code didn’t change either. No matter how big you were, you were still required to wear heels, a skirt, and a too tight shirt. Especially now with the pregnancy, your breasts were swollen more than ever and they poked out of the top of the shirt. And when he took you on the desk, or when he fucked you on the conference room table, the shirt did nothing to hold your breasts in. They bounced and leaked all over, his favorite playthings as his cock used you.

You arched your back with the orgasm as it slammed through you, squirting all over him as he continued to shove into your leaking cunt, and he pulled out like nothing happened, sitting back in his chair to continue the meeting, leaving you to clean yourself up.

When the 9 months passed, you were so swollen and sore but it still didn’t keep him away. If anything, it just made it worse. He’d bought a collar and leash to keep you at his side at all times now, unwilling to lose sight of your swollen form.

In the middle of a meeting with the president of the company, he yanked on your leash and pulled you over to him, pushing you down to your knees and shoving his cock into your mouth, roughly gripping your hair as he thrusted in and out.

You knew how to block your gag reflex, how to open up so he could thrust all the way down the back of your throat. And you knew better than to pleasure yourself when you felt the need, for he had to give you permission.

It was then that you felt the first cramp, the first of many that pulled on your muscles and made you moan around his cock. Your baby was coming, but you still didn’t have permission to leave.

He thrust hard down your throat and held himself there as his hips stuttered and thick white ropes of come shot down your throat. You swallowed obediently, licking your lips when he pulled away. He made you stand in front of the people in the room, your shirt covered in spit and milk leaking from your engorged breasts, and he lifted your skirt to reveal your sloppy cunt.

He wasn’t done with you yet and he turned you around, pushing you roughly onto the table on your back, your huge belly straight up in the air, your legs spread to give him easy access. More cramps came and went as he started to fuck into you, and soon the baby fell into the birth canal, moving without your permission as contractions ripped through you.

If the CEO noticed, he didn’t care. He continued to thrust into you, his cock hitting the top of the baby’s head everytime, pushing it back in every time it made progress. When he finally came, spurting come into your soaking wet and throbbing cunt, he pulled out. Your cunt dripped with his come and your own juices, the baby now pushing out of you.

It started to crown, the burn in your pussy almost too much to hold back your scream but then he shoved it back in, his fist going deep inside you. “We still have 3 hours in this meeting. You can give birth after we’re done.”

You enjoy a short nap before your daily milking, but you’re soon woken by the sound of voices outside the door of your stall. They’re walking past the building and all you hear is “...finally!” “Yes, we can get much more!” You’re confused. More money? Were they planning on selling you because you couldn’t give enough? Usually the Stablemaster could only squeeze out a few drops of milk during your daily sessions. You had taken to playing with them vigorously every day, and they had become more sensitive and puffier. Your milk supply had increased but not as much as you hoped. You shifted closer to the door, hoping to overhear more details. Just then, though, the stall door swung open and there was the Stablemaster and one of the stable hands, carrying a large box. The Stablemaster was beaming at you. “Congrats, pet, you’re finally going to earn your keep! It looks like we’ve managed to knock you up at last.” He nods at the stable hand, who puts down the box he’s holding and leaves the two of you alone in the stall, shutting the door behind him.

You see the Stablemaster’s big hand start to rub the bulge now straining the front of his pants. He rips open the box and you see what it contains—a set of silicone suction cups. He licks each one and clamps then over both your nipples, and you feel their force suck at your skin, your nipples hardening rapidly. He pushes you over your cot so that your ass is in the air and your tits hang over one side. He positions himself behind you and reaches around to grab your engorged breasts. Then his warm, solid cock—one of the largest and finest ones in the camp, in your opinion—rubs against your pussy and you begin to grind your hips backwards into him. His cock inflates, growing harder and harder and then slipping into your slick, wet pussy. You brace yourself. The Stablemaster didn’t take you very often. You got so much pleasure from his attempts to examine or milk you but he never touched you long enough for you to feel satisfaction, or squeezed you any more than necessary to get his job done. Now, though, he was taking his sweet time with you, pushing your hips away and slamming back into them in a slow, steady pumping motion. His fat cock was pulsing inside you. “It should have been me who got to knock you up, my little pet,” he growls, “but I can just wait until next time. I’ll keep you fat with my babies as long as I can. For now, you just be a good little pet and take it.” He flips you over with ease, swings your legs over his shoulders, and starts to ram you even harder, the cot squeaking below you. Suddenly, he grabs both the suction cups over your nipples and pulls them free with a loud pop. Your nipples are swollen and you see droplets of milk spray out as the pressure releases. He attaches your milking machine, barely stopping his relentless pounding, and the hoses start to pump at your breasts like they do every day. This time, though, you see spurts of milk come out and feel the stimulation bring you a little closer to bliss. The stable master’s rhythm starts to falter and you realize he’s about to cum. You moan as you feel him cum inside you, his hot seed filling you up. When he pulls out he grabs another box that you missed before.

“Just a little present since you’ve finally gotten pregnant.” You open it to find a set of three pink patches. You look at them for a moment, puzzled, but the Stablemaster chuckles. “I’ll just show you.” He places the two doughnut-shaped patches around each of your nipples and the small circular one directly over your clit, and then presses a button on a matching pink remote. The patches start to vibrate, gently at first, and then gradually intensify. Your body shakes and you’re gasping for air, writhing around on your cot. The pleasure is mounting as the vibrations get stronger and your second orgasm rumbles through you as you pant and moan louder. You’ve barely recovered, but the vibrations won’t end, and you come again and again in waves until you’re so exhausted that the orgasms barely make you twitch. Finally, the Stablemaster switches off the patches and hands you the remote. “Have fun”, he says, “and congrats.”

You start using your new toy whenever you have the chance. Your milk flows better than ever and your belly begins to show a small outward curve as your pregnancy progresses. Late one evening, one man comes to visit for a post-dinner ride and interrupts your session. You don’t mind, though—when he takes you, he doesn’t take the patches off and plays with the remote himself as he thrusts in and out of you and kneads your milky tits. You come, hard, just minutes later. Your visitor is enchanted by your heightened sensitivity and starts spreading the word that the camp’s fucktoy has some fun new features.

The men start to visit more and more often, and to your delight they’re now more likely to come in groups. You relish the feeling of riding a cock while simultaneously sucking one and having your ass pounded, and the first time this happened with the addition of the vibrating patches you came with such an intensity that you almost passed out, then saw stars for half an hour afterwards. Your milk flow continued to increase as your belly swelled, and the Stablemaster decided to upgrade your cot to a mattress as a reward. More importantly, he also began to visit more, often late at night so he could take as long as he wanted slamming his cock into you over and over. As he fucked you, he liked to talk about how much he loves seeing your rounded belly bouncing with each thrust, the hot milk squirting out of your nipples, and that as soon as you push out this baby he’s going to make sure he knocks you up with more. You’re looking forward to it.

You continue to get heavier and rounder as the days pass, which limits your flexibility a bit in terms of sex positions. It does not decrease your libido, or the libidos of anyone else in the camp. There are sometimes lines that form outside the stable, occasionally because the Stablemaster has been wanting to fuck you much more often than before you got pregnant. The other men grumble about how much time he gets with you, but once they’ve had a turn with your delicious body they generally forget all about the unfairness.

Your water breaks in a spectacular fashion while you’re braced against a stable wall, getting railed from behind. The man who’s fucking you falters for just a second but starts again at an even faster pace, until suddenly the Stablemaster bursts in and roughly shoves him away from you. “That’s it for today, get out!” he growls.

The man protests weakly but backs away when he sees the fire in the stable master’s eyes. Once you’re alone, the Stablemaster strips, sits on your mattress and pulls you down on his lap, forcing his lovely cock up your ass so suddenly that it makes you gasp. It doesn’t hurt at all though—mainly because of the pressure of the contractions that have just started, partially because of the pleasure from his large hands smacking and rubbing your enormous, leaky tits. He pulls on them greedily and your hot milk spurts everywhere. He leans forward and whispers, “I’m going to fuck your ass until you give birth, and then I’m going to fuck your pussy until you’re pregnant again.”

  In college, you met your future husband, and you were married shortly after. He only ever wanted one child, if any at all. But he admitted that he had a pregnancy fetish, which he always claimed didn’t mean he wanted kids - he liked looking at it, but wasn’t excited about the possibility of actually raising a child. 

  You two were always very careful about it. You took your pills daily, he always wore condoms. And you weren’t averse to a blowjob or letting him spill himself on your body. In fact, you loved watching what you could do to him, making him explode just with your natural God-given body. Half the time you’d even dress up with a fake belly and really drive him wild. He’d return the favor, too. Sometimes he would feel particularly relentless and you’d cum four, maybe five times before you were literally begging him to let you catch a break.

  Location was no object. There wasn’t a single room in your house that hadn’t seen some kind of sexual activity. You still considered your proudest moment to be when you squatted down on him while he was busy changing the oil on your car. Your car wasn’t the only one getting some fluids that day.

  Present day.

  You’re on a cruise for your fifth anniversary. You splurged and got one of the higher suites. Earlier today he treated you to all kinds of spa treatments, then you both dressed to the nines for formal dining night. Now back in your cabin you stand demurely before him as he slowly slips your dress off your shoulders, letting it pile on the floor around your ankles. His eyes widen as it does; he didn’t notice earlier exactly how sheer the bra was that you had put on underneath the dress. 

  Of course it’s not going to stay on for long.

  You do the rest, unhooking the bra and letting it drop on top of the dress. For the first time he registers that you weren’t wearing any panties all night. You long and ache for this man who has cared for you and your wishes so well over the past five years, just as much as you care for him and his. You don’t want to just fuck and go to sleep. You want passion, but not violence. You want romance and tenderness. You slowly step over to the bed and slip under the covers, making sure he got a good look at you. Come make love to me, you tell him, never mind how cheesy the words sound coming out of you. You made it sound like a desperate plea, which you know he would never be able to refuse. Soon he slides in behind you. You feel him pressed against you as his lips explore your hair, neck, and shoulders.

  And then he’s there, in you, thrusting as slowly and tenderly as he can manage, doting on you the whole time. You take the time to enjoy every sensation as your hips roll with his thrusts, your breath comes in bursts. Something about the way the ship smoothly rolls while the two of you move with loving intensity heightens your awareness of everything around you - the way his cock feels inside you, his lips trailing all over your skin, the fingers entwined in your hair, the palm resting on your abdomen. It’s blissful beyond words. You don’t want to give up this moment.

  Something nags at your mind and you remember that you didn’t take your pill this morning. You were too excited about the day and because your routine wasn’t normal you totally spaced it. And yet, as you think about it, you think about your husband behind you. How he has so carefully provided for you these last five years. How much he gives for you, and how much you give back, and how well your relationship works, and how it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to make sure these values were passed on. You can’t explain it, but you just can’t tell him about the pill. And you can’t make him stop now. He doesn’t deserve that, you tell yourself. And soon the time for the decision is past anyway as you feel him tense up and unload every drop of fluid he could possibly give you, flooding your body with the possibility of a baby.

  You should be panicking, you tell yourself. You don’t want kids. You’re not protected. 

  True, says the inner response as you press yourself as tightly into him as you can and he tightens his hold around you comfortingly. But maybe… maybe one wouldn’t be so bad. As you move your hand to your belly where his is already resting, you imagine what you’d look like pregnant for real. He already goes wild enough when you fake it. Imagine what he would do to feel the real thing, not fabric, but your own skin stretched over a baby bump.. 

Are you disappointed or relieved? It’s hard to tell. The idea of having your own children is still very negative. But there’s something about the words “Not Pregnant” on the stick that make it feel… sad.

  The missed period was a wakeup call. You almost panicked, rushing to the store to get a test, hoping and praying all the way that it would be negative. You almost couldn’t wait for the timer you set.

  And your prayers were answered. Not pregnant.

  So why do you feel empty?

  Your husband’s at work. He won’t be home for another four hours. You decide to make things really nice for him. And when it’s time for him to leave the office, the house is sparkling clean. You’ve put on a fake belly for him, then your (well, his) favorite black dress over it. It’s his favorite because it emphasizes your figure so well, and it allows you to take your boobs out and just let them breathe. Or let them drive him wild. Whatever.

  When he gets home, he barely has time to say hello before he sees your pregnancy figure advancing toward him, you pressing your lips against his as your hands fumble with his belt and pull out his hardening cock. You step back, stroking his cock on your belly, never mind the dress being there, you know it’s the shape that turns him on. And you want to look at his eyes, but your gaze is drawn to the appendage you’re holding in your hand, the power that it has to make your body transform into this for real. And you say things to him, affirmations, things like how he wants to have a pregnant wife, how he loves filling you up and imagining the result. It’s not long before his cum is shooting out of him, hitting the underside of your breasts, dripping and pooling all over your dress, a dead giveaway to the arousal that your pregnant look causes him.

  The next morning you completely disregard your pills.

  That night he takes you out, fancy dinner, live theater instead of a movie. The whole time in the car his hand is either on the steering wheel or venturing between your legs. There is no in between. You’re pretty sure the driver next to you at that red light saw when you were cumming at your husband’s relentless touch, but who cares - you’ll probably never see him again.

  By the time the evening is over and you arrive back at home, you’re a quivering, dripping mess. You’ve been glancing at him on the drive home and you can see how desperate he is for a release, and you are going to give it to him. You walk into the house and don’t even make it through the kitchen. The arousal has taken you over, you have to breed now. You stop at the kitchen sink and flip your dress up, wordlessly begging him to take you. And he gets the message. All you hear is his belt and zipper, barely enough time for him to take his cock out of his pants before it is inside you, thrusting as hard as you could ever imagine. You push back on him, encouraging him to go as deep as possible, as you put your fingers on your clit and try to tease yourself up to the brink, holding off so you can cum with him. It only takes a minute before he unloads inside of you, and you make that one last push to send yourself into an orgasm that wracks your body with pleasurable spasms. Your knees go weak and you drop, making him fall out of you and empty a couple of last spurts on your dress. 

  But it was enough. You felt your cervix pulsing, drawing in his semen, trying to make a baby. Even with some of it dripping out of your hungry hole, you know the instincts worked. You’re in heat, badly wanting his baby. And you still haven’t told him it’s for real.

  Every morning after, if you wake up before him, you start with waking up his cock and then riding him to completion. And if he’s awake first, you present yourself to him and let him fill you. It’s the same almost every night. You hardly ever start or end your day without his cum inside you. He still doesn’t know it’s on purpose. The first time after you stopped the pills when he calls you his breeding slut, you cum instantly, because now you know it’s true instead of just play.

  There aren’t any more periods after that. Soon the stick says “Pregnant,” and keeps doing so every time you try that week. And you still don’t tell him. When the morning sickness starts, however, he puts two and two together - the pills still in the medicine cabinet, the eagerness for sex, the sickness without fever. He pulls you aside. “I think someone’s pregnant.” “Yes, sir, she is,” you reply.

  Your routine hardly changes over the next few weeks, except now every day he’s feeling your belly, trying to catch the first time that it feels firmer, confirming that his baby is inside you. On that first day, he takes the day off, spending the entire day naked with you at home, insisting on cumming in and on you at every opportunity. 

  Then you start to show, and your rounding belly is now his favorite thing about you. He can’t keep his hands off of it, caressing your body, keeping a protective hand on you, using your bump for leverage when you fuck. His cum starts landing on your belly more often than anywhere else, if he’s not emptying himself into your already full womb. And your breasts, swelling and heavier as they prepare your milk, his eyes are on them more than your face when he talks to you. Through it all, he still treats you like a prize, making sure you’re taken care of before anything else, the loving husband you dreamed about as a girl.

  The gender ultrasound says it’s a girl. You’re both ecstatic, not that you didn’t want a boy, but now you know how to shop. During the baby shopping spree, he also buys you maternity dresses, dresses designed to enhance the bump and pull down for breast access. That last feature is supposed to be for relief rather than pleasure, but you know what he wants it for. 

  And then she starts moving inside you, first only for you to feel, then for him. The entire experience is enough to set you off, giddy like a… well, like a new mother. The movements inside you, especially the ones that he can see pushing out from your belly, are a whole-new turn-on for him. You’re not safe anywhere in your own house, he could be horny at any moment and desperate to use his wife to get off, and you’re all too eager to roll with it. You dress up and doll up for him. You sit like an ornament for him as he puts the nursery furniture together. You send him naughty messages and pictures at work, even a couple of videos of you reaching around your big belly to masturbate. Every night you fall asleep with his mouth on your nipples and his hand on your belly. By the time you’re full term, there’s not a room in your house that hasn’t seen sex, no part of your body that hasn’t been cummed on. 

  A sadness sets in. You don’t want it to end. 

  You always planned for a homebirth. Hospitals stress you out. Thinking about birthing in the same bed the baby was conceived in, it all feels like it’s coming full circle, and you’re as excited about that as you are disappointed that you won’t be pregnant anymore. As your due date approaches, you ask a favor.  No more animalistic fucking. Just love and tenderness. Your body is still his, but you want to slow down and feel all of the attention, really concentrate on it and feel the bond between two lovers and parents, united by the baby she will soon bear.

  You start feeling the first real contractions three days past your due date. They wake you in the early morning hours just before sunrise. A hand goes to your belly and you hold it there with a contented sigh. And you lie there for a while, timing the contractions, making sure they’re the real thing before you roll over (with difficulty) to face your husband and try to nudge him awake. No response. He’s facing you, though, so you have other options. Shifting up slightly, you take a breast and guide the nipple to his mouth. It only takes a few seconds before he starts licking and sucking on it in his sleep. That stimulates a reaction below his waist and you wrap your hand around it, gently stroking as he slowly wakes up and realizes what’s going on.

  You tell him it’s time and he’s instantly alert and panicking, but you slow him down. “Shh,” you say. “It’s still early. Just lie here with me. Let’s enjoy the next few hours together.”

  The two of you snuggle up together and he rubs your belly as you labor. Soon you know you need something more, something to take away from the growing discomfort, and you ask him to make love to you, to enjoy his pregnant wife one more time. “But don’t cum yet,” you say. “I want to feel you in me as long as I can. Let me feel how you made this baby inside me before I birth her for you.”

  And just like that, he’s slipping inside you, gently pushing in and pulling out, giving you something else to focus on instead of the contractions. His hands massage your breasts, you push them forward into his palms. “Don’t stop,” you breathe. “Please don’t stop.”

  After a couple of hours, he can’t contain himself, and he empties himself into you one last time. A few minutes later you feel a rush of fluid the other way as your water breaks. The next three hours are almost unbearable, but he’s right there by your side. You asked him for an intimate setting. You both agreed to a fully nude birth with each other, nothing hidden, just the two of you sharing your love of each other while you bring forth the third that you created together. You realize eventually that he’s aroused by the process, watching your belly contract, hearing your groans as the muscles tighten. “Touch me,” you say. “I want to cum.”

  His fingers find their mark, and in a few minutes you’re descending into a world of pleasure. “Stop,” you say, “wait, there’s another one coming soon.” As the contraction builds, you tell him “now,” and he furiously strokes your clit to orgasm as the contraction peaks and you ride both sensations through to the end, breathing hard as you relax and the orgasm subsides.

  Your body naturally tells you when to push. He tells you that the baby’s coming after only the first one, holding a mirror for you so you can see the head starting to show through your parting vagina. His hand is still on top, finger resting on your sensitive little bud, his cock growing harder as he watches the progress.

  “You like watching me birth?” you ask.

  “Yeah.”

  “You want me to do it again for you?”

  “I think so.”

  “Don’t let me stand in your way. Making this baby for you has been one of the most erotic things I’ve ever experienced. Please don’t let this be our last.”

“I won’t.”

  “You can breed me again whenever you want.” You take a deep breath, another contraction approaching. “Keep rubbing me. I want to see if I can cum her out.”

  His hand immediately gets to work again. You watch and feel it as your daughter’s head pushes you apart. It doesn’t look like you can take anymore, but the lips keep stretching, almost to a perfect circle. The pressure on your clit is mounting too. “Almost there,” you assure him, “keep going.”

  The ring of fire builds, but the oncoming orgasm keeps it at bay. As he finally helps you hit that magic point, your baby’s head pops out, then the continued rush of the contraction pushes the rest of her body forward, and soon you’re gathering her up and resting her on your chest. She may be covered in blood and fluids, but that doesn’t matter. She’s here, she’s beautiful, and she’s yours.

  Your husband eventually cuts the cord and attends as the placenta slides out. As your daughter takes her first drops from your aching breast, you catch his eye. His hand is on his cock, looking like he’s holding back.

"We were just trying to protect you," her adoptive mother stuttered. "It is true that your mother was overwhelmed and asked us to adopt you. We weren't trying to keep anything from you! We just didn't think you needed to know the details of why, and we didn't think you'd ever want to reach out to him, so what's the harm?"

"The harm is that you lied to me for twenty years!" she screamed, and stormed out the door without eating. She obviously couldn't trust what her parents told her, so she decided to get her questions answered another way. She searched on Facebook for a few of the names of cousins that had come up in her genetic report and requested them as friends. In a few minutes, a notification popped up that she'd been accepted as a friend. She was angry, and nervous, and absolutely thrilled. She glanced over the woman's Facebook page--she must be a cousin on her bio dad's side. She looked nice, and Nevaeh messaged her immediately to explain. Her new cousin responded almost immediately.

"Oh my gosh I'm so glad you reached out! Trey never knew he had a daughter, I don't think your mother ever told him! It's no trouble if this is too much, but a few of us go to Senor Toad's every Friday to watch UCA game, would you like to join us this week?"

And that's how Nevaeh found herself nervously walking into Senor Toad's, clutching her purse, and scanning the crowd for faces that looked like hers, but different.

----

Meeting her dad in person had been electrifying. Touching his face, a fifty-five year old male version of her nose and lips, moving right in front of her! Learning what he was like as a child, that they were both allergic to pineapple and had hamsters named Midnight, that he had struggled in chemistry in high school and had played varsity basketball. It was incredible. After the first whirlwind family event, she went home to her apartment, overwhelmed with a million emotions, promising she'd reach out to see them again soon.

That night, as she drifted off, she startled herself by fleetingly imagining what it would be like to kiss her dad's strangely similar lips. Disgusted, she out it out of her mind, but when she drifted off she had strange, confusing, erotic dreams all night where she lay tangled with him in a hazy love nest, sheets silky against their bare skin.

The next morning she awoke to ten new friend requests--each from a new member of her family she had not known existed three days ago. Embarrassed by her weird dreams, she promised herself she'd take some time to process before she agreed to any more invites. She headed to campus for her first class of the day and did her best to put everything family-related out of her mind.

---

It was Friday now and her creepy thoughts hadn't gone away. If anything, they'd gotten more intense and intrusive. She'd given in and touched herself to the fantasies, but the second she came she felt horrified and ashamed. She had to do something to stop them, especially if she was ever to show her face at a family gathering ever again! Maybe a hookup would help? She pulled up Tinder and began to swipe. it was Friday night, she could at least go out with a boy she wasn't related to and try to distract herself. None of the twenty two year old NFT enthusiasts or Dead Fish Bros caught her eye, so on a whim she increased her age range to fifty. Bingo--a silver fox with intense eyes and the most beautiful forearms she had ever seen. "Let's see what he can do for me," she thought, pulling off her pore strips and sending him a cute bathroom selfie to seal the deal.

Silver fox was charming, rich, and gave great head. She distracted herself with him for a few dates, then began seeing an English professor who was much more condescending and had a fatter cock. He almost scratched the itch, but she was still getting those intrusive fantasies of running her fingers through her father's salt and pepper hair, his scratchy five o clock shadow rubbing against her inner thighs. "Ok," she thought, "I'm on the right track here with these dudes but Professor Windbag is too nerdy, I think. I might need to dump him."

Soon she was presented with what she thought was the absolute perfect opportunity. Her building super brought along a surly contractor to inspect the water heater one morning, and he looked so much like her bio dad her heart caught in her throat. She immediately let her robe fall a little open, and asked the men in her breathiest voice if she could get them something to drink. Her super raised an eyebrow at her, having never attracted this kind of attention from her before, but the contractor was hooked. She found every excuse to brush up against him, and when they left, she wasn't surprised when the contractor knocked on her door about twenty minutes later.

She was pressed against her kitchen wall with him inside her ninety seconds after he walked through the door, and she really thought she'd finally scratched her itch. He came back as often as his schedule allowed over the next few months and it always ended the same way--if she was home, she let him in, and they ripped away the fabric between them like wild animals, stopping only when his cock was thrusting desperately inside her. She lost track of how many loads of his she took, her only thought that for now, the fantasies had disappeared.

Feeling more confident, she accepted the next invite from her new family, and so it was at her biological grandmother's house on Easter Sunday that her logical planning came crashing down around her. One glance at her grandmother's painstakingly prepared Easter ham sent her rushing to the bathroom to puke. Her aunt knocked on the door and cracked it to hand Nevaeh a warm damp paper towel for her neck, and asked if she should bring some ginger ale. Nevaeh nodded miserably, and although she didn't want to admit it, she knew that trying to be responsible by not fucking her father had resulted in an older man's baby growing in her belly. She was just like her fucking bio mom, careless and so, so stupid.

She looked in the mirror and turned side to side. It was pretty obvious, now that she'd let the curtain of denial slip. Her belly had a little bulge, right below her belly button, and her breasts were tender and swollen. This wasn't the first time she'd thrown up, but the other times were more easily attributed to the amount of alcohol she'd had to consume to be interested in Professor Snob's intercollegiate dynamics, or to the random bugs always floating around college campuses. Her period hadn't always come like clockwork, but she had let herself ignore that she hadn't bled in four months.

"Ok," she thought to herself, "well obviously you're going to get an abortion. You're only four months pregnant, it's not too late. And going forward if you're going to fuck men three times your age, you're going to wear a condom."

There was another knock on the door, and she called to her cousin to come in with the soda. The door cracked and to her surprise, it was her father instead. He gave her a crooked smile and handed her a cup of ginger ale. Then his eyes dropped to her pregnant middle--she had lifted up her shirt to look in the mirror, and without fabric covering it, her baby bump was much more obvious than she realized.

"Hon, am I going to be a grandfather?" he asked softly, and suddenly her heart and vagina melted into a puddle on the floor. He stepped fully into the bathroom to take her in his arms, and without thinking she lifted her lips to his and drank him in, pulling him tight to her. She half expected him to break the embrace, but he didn't, he just reached behind him to close the bathroom door. She moaned and thrust her hips into him, and before long, she was sitting on the bathroom sink, spreading her legs, and he was inside her, thrusting in her like the white hot rod of god himself. Nothing she had fantasized about had come anywhere close to fulfilling her like this. She came so quickly that he laughed and withdrew holding her gently until she stopped pulsing. Sensitive as she was, she moaned again and pulled him back inside her, begging for more.

"Easy now sweetheart," he said tenderly, "don't be so greedy. We'll have lots of time for more later." He pulled her shirt and skirt down, straightening them and brushing her off. "Now get back out there and try to eat something! You've got your grandmother so worried about you!"

"Change of plans, Nevaeh thought to herself, "I can't get an abortion, because I am never, ever giving that up, and this way I won't get pregnant by my own father, because I'm already pregnant. By someone. Ew." She shuddered at the thought that one of the disgusting men she'd been sleeping with was going to make her a mother, but it was a small price to pay for the most mind-blowing sex of her life, plus avoiding making an incest baby.

---

*Small* price to pay may have been a poor choice of words. Nevaeh was so incredibly pregnant. After Easter dinner, Nevaeh had moved in with her grandmother. She and her father had agreed it would look too suspicious if she moved in with him right away, and her grandmother only lived twenty minutes from campus. She could finish her sophomore year, have the baby, then after she placed it for adoption, they'd find a place together out of state, where they wouldn't have to tell anyone who they were to each other. The trysts at her grandmothers, and in his car, and behind the movie theatre, and in the campus library thrilled her, but she couldn't wait until a. she was old enough to go with him inside the bars, and b. they didn't have to hide. And anyway, the trysts were over for now. She was too big to fuck in the car, too encumbered to crawl under a desk to blow him in the library, and far too pregnant to fuck in the bathroom or the garage of her grandmother's tiny mobile home. Her fantasies were all she had left. She focused on how good it would feel to have him inside her again without a boulder of young in the way, and to feel svelte and pretty and sexy again.

----

Going into labor completely surprised her. She had no idea exactly how far along she was, so waiting for the baby to come was much more of an art than a science. Luckily, she was at home when she started to feel pangs, and her grandmother began to bustle around the house, preparing a hospital bag and wiping her brow with cool cloths. She called her father to let him know labor had begin, and he assured her he'd be home as soon as his shift at the gas station ended, and he'd drive her to the hospital. A few hours later, he arrived to find his daughter halfway dilated and very ready to get this baby out of her. Nevaeh climbed, with difficulty, into the back seat of the car, and kissed her grandmother goodbye as she counted the seconds between her contractions. Her dad pulled out of the driveway and began the thirty minute drive to the hospital. But then he didn't take the hospital exit. Then he didn't turn around. She barely noticed, what with a heaving belly trying to burst between her legs, but eventually she managed to call out to the front seat and ask him what on earth he was doing.

"Oh did you think I was going to let you give my grandchild up for adoption? Just like your slut mother, you open your legs and then you think you can just get rid of the baby and not tell the father? No, you're keeping this baby. You should have finished college before you opened your legs to every man you saw. You don't get to have it all, you're a mommy now."

put on her sandals and headed down the dirt road that connected all of the community together. her ass shook with each step she took, her hips swung from side to side. those who passed by could see that her shorts barley covered her ass cheeks and her nipples peeked through the fabric of her tank top.

she was a woman on a mission. one of the elders of the group, his name was soul. he was one of the oldest members of their little group, pushing well past 50.

his trailer was a bit bigger, nervously sunburst went up the stairs and knocked on the door. soon it was opened and the man stood there, he was rather fit with a trimmed beard and a broad body.

the sight of him made sunburst squirm.

"hello my child." he said, "what brings you here today?"

she looked up at him and replied, "i wish to be pregnant, sir. my womb feels empty and i have barely been touched since i arrived."

he chuckled and reached out for her, he guided her into his trailer and brought her to the couch. he was in nothing more than baggy shorts and the thin silver chain he wore around his neck.

he had tattoos, sunburst wondered what they were for but didn't dare question. he could impart knowledge onto her after he finished seeding her.

his arm was over the back of the couch as he got closer to her. his other hand reached for her breast and pinched her hard nipple. the feeling made her moan. he chuckled, "i wouldn't mind seeding you, you are at a good age to have your belly swollen with seed."

"i want it, sir. i want to become a mother."

"you have learned so much." he chuckled, "you were so scared when you joined us. directionless. but i guess now we can take it to the next step." his hand dropped to her soft stomach, he rubbed it and purred in her ear.

sunburst weren't too sure how many times soul finished inside of her. her head was a blur by the end of it. her belly actually felt hard from all the cum that had pooled in the base of her womb. she learned a lot that evening.

by morning she looked like a mess limping back to she trailer. cum dripped down her leg as you walked and it stained the front of her shorts. they were ruined, but she'd be never wearing them again anyway.

the test came back positive when she took it weeks later. her belly was going to be swollen with her first child. soul looked happy too, he had already fathered close to nineteen child with other women, but to see such a young face beam at the feeling of her child kick made him happy.

it was an active baby.

she beamed when it moved or when she could feel it kick when her pussy was being fucked. she loved being a mother, it completed.

now, sunburst was now at the end of her pregnancy, her belly felt huge. the father of her child would come by and sink his cock into the bred cunt she had. he was over two times her age, but still could keep up with her mess of hormones.

she was hungry, horny and above all achy. but yet she yearned for the sweet release of a cock in her pussy. she knew labour was coming, but couldn't stop herself.

soul had her on her hands and knees as he thrusted into her. his balls slapped against her thick ass. she was more plushy now that she was becoming a mother. but the love handles and saggy breasts were a sign that she was doing her duty as a woman.

but when she climaxed, something felt different. when soul pulled out, her waters broke. they got all over the bed and the front of soul, whose eyes went wide.

she hollered into her pillow, "my baby!" as she gripped her belly. she made a pained noise as her motherly instincts told her to start pushing. soul rubbed her belly from between her legs. her pussy was bright red, angry in colour.

"that's it, sunburst. you're doing so well, you're having my child." he then rubbed at her opening to massage it. when he brushed her clit, birthing fluid spat out of her cunt and onto the bed.

"it hurts so badly! oh gods, it hurts!" she screamed into the pillow. her front half was pressed against the bed while her hips were raised as she laboured.

"every mama goes through that." soul said, "relax your body, do deep breathing. your baby will be out soon."

she whimpered and moaned, the feeling of soul's fingers against your clit felt nice. she could feel her baby shift inside of her. her nipples leaked milk as she felt her baby's head pass the barrier of her cervix.

it was a hard contraction, but the feeling of her child slowly coming out made her feel overwhelmed. she had been bred and seeded and now she was delivering the fruit.

soul even went as far as to rub his cock up against her entrance and clit, "that's it, good girl." he said, "that's a good girl. push, now, push. c'mon, get your child out."

the poor girl pushed and pushed, her head spun as she managed to relax enough that the baby began to emerge from her canal. sunburst howled in her trailer as she pushed with her contractions.

the way mother nature had designed her.

soul watched the beauty of life unfold as the poor girl birthed on her hands and knees like one of the sows in the farm. but this was the job of every woman in the end, to produce fruit.

he felt his cock grow hard at the pained noises of sunburst. a young woman delivering her first baby, his cock bobbed when he sank two fingers into his opening to check on the status of her child.

"here they come, sunburst." he said.

"oh gods, it hurts so much!" she groaned, not even noticing what he is saying. her belly appeared lopsided as more of the baby was pushed down her canal.

"breathe deeply, push c'mon mama. here come your baby." he watched her back arch as she hollered into her pillow. her mattress was stained with birthing fluids.

she puffed out her cheeks and deeply breathed as the head of her child began to emerge from her opening.

sunburst looked like the ideal woman, with her aching swollen belly and thick thighs. the way she was doing everything to bring her child into the world.

the baby had a thick head of dark hair and their poor mama was screaming as the ring of fire began. this was the toughest fight a woman could ever do.

soul felt pride that he caused this woman to have her first child. he supported the head and told sunburst to keep breathing. he winced when the shoulders began to emerge.

"he's almost out."

sunburst made a loud noise as with soul's help, the baby came out of her fully. her hips dropped when it was fully out. every manner of fluid leaked out of the poor woman's stretched cunt.

"it's a girl, sunburst." soul said as he held the little girl to his chest. he guided her with one hand to get onto her back so she could hold her daughter.

sunburst experienced the first skin to skin contact with her daughter. the baby screamed and sunburst looked at soul. she was a mother now, her duty within the commune was to have another shortly and then another, and raise them all.

as soul massaged the woman's stomach to get the placenta out, he made sure that all of the child his little sunburst sired would be fathered by him.

"She's the last, Your Grace," one of the guards says, and the pair of them supporting me let me sink down to the cold stone floor. 

Slowly, my eyes adjust enough to see we're in a suite of rooms, well enough but not extravagant. The dark king leans against a polished dining table, clothes immaculate and well made, a crown dripping with gemstones on his dark hair. He's beautiful, but there is no kindness or mercy in him- hence all the young women of magical blood in his dungeon. 

"I have a proposition for you," he drawls. "I need an heir, and I need one borne of a woman of magic, if they are to inherit my own power. Alas, brides are rather scarce on the ground of late, but this is my kingdom- I can declare any child of mine legitimate if I so choose. It matters not what broodmare bears them."

I stared up at him through my tangled hair. "Are you asking? Or telling me what's to happen? Your Grace."

His dark eyes watch me with distaste. "A spell must be used, to ensure conception with only one coupling. Per that spell, the woman must be willing, or it will not take."

Ah. That explained why he was dragging us up here one at a time. If a woman said no, then she was of no use to him. 

"And what do I get, then, if I bear you an heir?" I sneered. "A life in a cell?"

"Freedom," the king replied. "You will be banished from this kingdom- free to live anywhere else, and live as you please, in exchange for producing an heir for me."

For months, I had been telling myself that I was willing to do anything to get free of this dark castle. Well, here was my test- bear a child in exchange for safe passage out of the hellhole. Gods be damned. Lifting my chin, I met the king's gaze. "Fine."

His brows rose. "You're agreed?"

I shrugged. "What's one brat compared to life away from this place?"

The king smirked. "Indeed. Healer!"

A woman in layered white robes came through one of the doors on the far wall, bearing two glass vials in her hands. Veiled, I couldn't see her face, but her hands were steady as she approached and offered the king the first vial. "Your Grace."

He took the vial, unstopped it, and then tossed back the contents in one swallow. Magic shivered as the spell began, and the guards dragged me to my feet as the healer turned to me next. She took the cork out of the vial and offered it to me. 

Copying the king, I swallowed the contents in one go, and shuddered as the warm, honey-sweet liquid went down. The warmth seemed to spread out inside me, pooling low in my belly. The guards shoved me toward where the king stood. The afterbirth comes in a rush, too small and shrinking until the cords break and there's nothing remaining, every tiny bit of energy 

He caught my wrist, bent it up behind my back, and then bent me over the table. Gasping, I couldn't even squirm as he lifted my skirts and undid his flies. Whatever was the spell, it seemed to prepare us both for coupling, as his cock was like an iron rod that found my sex soft and slick, ready for him. 

A small noise caught in the back of my throat as the king thrust hard into me, seating himself right to the hilt. It should have hurt, but instead my body throbbed around him, despite my aching shoulder. I clawed at the polished surface with my free hand, rising on my toes as he withdrew and thrust again. 

It took only a dozen strokes, and then heat bloomed inside me, followed by my own climax and tight clench around the king's cock. He spilled seed long past what a normal man should've, until my concave abdomen had a bulge between my hip bones when I was finally allowed to stand upright. Nothing dripped down my legs, every drop held secure within me. 

Shaking my skirts down, I turned to face the king as he backed away. The healer and the guards had watched, and watched me. Probably waiting for me to freak the hell out. 

"The spell," the king began, flies done up and hands sliding into his pockets, "has already begun. In forty days-"

"Days? I think you mean weeks," I scoffed. 

"No, in nine weeks, you will birth my heir and be delivered to the border," the king said, smirking. "The spell does not just guarantee pregnancy, but accelerate it. I don't have time to wait around for months for you to catch, and then for months longer for your body to take its sweet time growing my heir. The healer made a spell to shorten everything as much as possible. You will remain in this suite until you deliver."

On some unspoken cue, the guards turn and leave. The king watches as the healer walked up to me and laid her hand across the bulge in my lower abdomen.

"The spell worked," she tells the king. "She's pregnant."

"Check everything progresses as it should every day," the king said to the healer, and then followed the guards out. The doors slammed shut behind them, and a heavy thump against the wood meant a bar had been placed across the outside, locking us within. 

"Let's run you a bath, shall we?" The healer said, turning to the doors at the far end, a different one from which she had come out of opening. 

Within days, my underweight body is already visibly pregnant. Within nothing to conceal it, the burgeoning swell of my womb is obvious as it rises above my pelvis and pushes outward a little at a time. Smooth and firm, its a little rounder by the time I take my bath every evening, and I stroke it with my hands in the warm water. Otherwise, I feel no different. No sickness, no tiredness, no pain. 

Mostly, I am left to occupy my time with books while I lounge around in gauzy shifts, well-fed and warmed by a fire for the first time in months. 

On the tenth day, one quarter of the way through the entire ordeal, the dark king returns. With a snap of his fingers, my garments disappear as I stand in the centre of the room for inspection. 

The king studies the modest swelling between my hipbones, my slightly heavier breasts. "Report."

"Everything is proceeding as expected, Your Grace," the healer says, hands clasped neatly before her. "Aside from one thing."

The king rounds on her, expression icily furious. Calmly, she says, "She has conceived twins, Your Grace. She will bear you two heirs."

I blink, surprised, and rest my hand on my belly. Twins? 

The king studies my middle again before giving the healer a nod and taking his leave. I bend and snatch up my shift, yanking it back on over my head. "Don't you think you ought to have told me I was carrying twins?"

With her face veiled, all I had to read her was her voice, as serene as ever. "Why? What does it change on your end?"

"It's my body," I counter. 

"That you have lent to His Grace for the duration of the pregnancy," she counters. "Come. It is time for your lunch."

Every night in my bath, I smooth my hands over my taut skin, noting the increased distance between my fingers. Less than a week after that visit from the king, I begin to feel deep flutters that quickly strengthen, and then become visible movement under my skin. 

At the halfway mark, twenty days, the king returns. My belly is much more impressive, more than double in size, and its occupants heave when he spreads his hand over the mound. The belly looks particularly out of place on my still-bony frame, but the healer assures him that the heirs are well nourished and safe within me. 

"Feed her more," the king orders as he walks out again. 

The food improves in quality and quantity, but the growing heirs certainly keep up in their use of the extra energy. Still, i am less bony when the king comes for the 3 inspection, my breasts fuller, and the twins now reaching impressive size for their dates. I look not quite full-term with a single baby, my body straining to accommodate the vigorous offspring inside. They kick and push day and night, only still when I take my evening bath. Floating in the water takes the ache out of my spreading hips and eases the taut, itching skin, though it remains unmarked. 

On the fortieth day, I wake in bed with the healer pressing both hands to my bare belly. Something low and deep throbs, not quite painful but not pleasurable either. 

"What-?" I gasp. 

"Just dilating and effacing you," she says mildly. "The king will not be patient, and my magic is far gentler than his."

Indeed, the king is in my chambers shortly after breakfast, pacing and glaring. My pains are infrequent, the heirs less energetic than usual. I am forced to remain unclothed, and every tightening of my belly is visible as it pulls up and in. 

"Can you not accelerate this part as well?" the king demands of the healer. 

"it is not advised," she replies mildly. 

"I don't care. Accelerate this, or I will."

Rising, the healer approaches me and cups my enormous middle in both hands. Immediately, a stronger, longer pain grips me, but its not painfully, exactly. I can breathe easily through it, and that proves helpful when another such pain comes almost immediately afterwards. Each successive spasm in longer and stronger, until my knee buckle and I crouch down in the middle of the room. She never lets go of me, her magic bringing on each spasm that forces the first babe down into my pelvis, the pressure immense but again, not painful. 

There's a distinct pop within me, and then my waters dribble from between my legs. On the next contraction, it gushes onto the carpet, but the feeling is so different as I feel the full weight of the child head-down in pelvis, I shudder and fold over myself. I want to stop, to slow down, to have a minute to catch my breath, but the healer hold my belly and brings each contraction one after another after another. 

I can't help but groan, sinking down on my knees and bracing my hands on the wool rug. The urge to push grabs me by the throat, and I tuck my chin, bearing down. Its a relief to push until the contraction eases, and the healer lets me pant for nearly a minute before bringing on the next contraction. 

Again, I growl deep in my throat, tucking my chin as I bear down with everything I have. The first twin moves through me, enormous and unstoppable. Even when I pause to gulp air, the babe slowly moves downward. 

Cupping my sex with one hand, I feel the flesh bulge outward, a tear drop forming as the round head begins to split me in half. Pushing again, I keep my hand there to force my body to stretch instead of bulge outward, the tear drop widening against the too-big head. 

The head fully delivers with a spray of fluids, and I pant as the healer lets me rest a moment. The baby is huge, head spreading my thighs as the body sits in my birth canal and slowly creeps downward. 

With a small scream, i bear down with all my might and the baby delivers in a rush. It flails and cries on the carpet, but the healer makes no move to touch the baby. 

"Leave him," she says, when i lower a trembling hand. "The spell must be completed, whether he is inside or outside of you. The cord must remain intact." 

The baby is still growing, I realize, the cord pulsing between marking each little spurt of growth. With an abrupt sinking feeling in my belly, the second twin is squeezed down against my pelvis, and I can't do anything but bear down, chin tucked and hands braced on my thighs now. 

The second babe comes even faster, my body stretched and ready. Within three pushes, I have the head delivered and turning, fluids spraying as first one shoulder comes, and then the other. In a slippery rush, the second baby lands beside her twin, making it obvious how much the first baby has grown. 

Dumbfounded, I stare down at the babies between my legs, still connected to me by their pulsing cords. The healer lifts her hands off my softened middle, small spasms seizing it, shrinking with every squeeze until it looks as it did before the king planted his seed in me. The afterbirth comes in a rush, too small and still shrinking as the babies use up every bit of energy available. The healer lifts them into my arms and I accept them, exhausted and dazed. They root at my bare, tingling breasts. 

"They must have the first milk to complete the spell, Your Grace," the healer says when he makes an impatient sound. Without help, they latch and suck deeply. When the healer takes them from me, I black out. 

I wake on the bed, on my back and naked. My sex aches, but not in the way it was just shortly before. Horrified, lifting my hand, I rest it on the round swell rising between my hipbones. 

The healer perches on the edge of the bed, covering my hand with hers. "Just one this time."

I gape at her. "He said I would be freed!"

Lifting her veil for the first time, she smiles sadly down at me. "Did you really think a dark master like himself would actually be true to his word? After you bore him twins, without my help?" she made a soft tutting sound, stroking my belly... which was already bigger?

"I adjusted the spell," she said. "Now that it isn't your first pregnancy, much less time is needed. This second pregnancy will only take about forty minutes. And who know? Perhaps then he'll let you go."

Awkwardly plodding around your room with a massive head preparing to jam open your cervix doesn't make you regret the moment you had with the Emperor. The way he claimed your body as his sends tremors through you to this day. The way his hand gripped the spot below your navel when it was not yet filled. The way his cock filled you tight to the point you could feel it tremble and grow with anticipation. The warmth you felt when his cum poured into you.

If you walked into court with twins, surely the Emperor would acknowledge your presence once more.

Your belly twists, stopping you in your tracks and forcing a moan out of you. Your stance lowers into a squat. Your massive bump contorts harder with time and causes your damaged waters to leak more than before. The pressure drives the Emperor's gift low.

Your fingers dig into your knees. You bite your lip hard as your body coaxes open the path for the Emperor's heir. The pressure wraps around your middle and back. Your inner opening squeezes against the film protecting you from the Emperor's gift.

A thunderclap of pain shoots from your crotch. Your water bag breaks onto your thighs and the wooden floor. For a moment, you experience relief in the release. But then the full weight of a baby dropped into the cradle of your cervix. Shocks of pain make you convulse and lose balance. You hang on to a nearby dresser for support during the contraction. You still don't feel the urge to push, but you can feel the head even more now.

Even as the contraction releases, it feels as though the baby could fall through your cervix at any moment. You breathe in and out with a slight tremble in your voice.

You waddle to your bed and awkwardly heft your labor body on to it. laying down doesn’t make your bump look any smaller. You rub large, soothing circles around the hot skin of it. Soon, soon your babies will be out and the Emperor will notice you.

~

Time has passed. You're not entirely sure how much. Your life at this moment is consumed by a cycle of debilitating pain and desperate breathing. The contractions are on top of each other and at their maximum intensity. Your stomach is contorted around the womb of your babies. But what's worse is that you feel something truly massive forcing your hips wide and making your cervix cry out to you in pain.

It's coming, the first baby is coming.

The primal urge to bear down jumps on you suddenly. You take a bit of cloth off your night stand and bite down. You draw your legs back, framing your sweat covered belly. You grip your thighs tightly…and push.

Your entire body quakes when you give in to the first urge. The pain in your hole makes you scream into the rag. Your misshapen belly shrinks, the head pulls open the way to your canal. Your eyes bulge out when your hips strain to contain your first baby. Your body quakes against the alien feeling.

The contraction ceases and you're left with the feeling of a huge stone keeping your legs spread. You massage your hips and underbelly, but it's no use. The pressure is maddening to the point you consider pushing without contractions. You drag in heaps of air before your back tightens and your midriff hardens.

Again and again, streaks of contractions crash into your laboring body. Each one pushes the baby only slightly into your canal. Hours pass at a crawl and your progress shows none of it.

Your pussy is full with your baby. You can't even attempt to close your legs or move your hips without sending pain through you.

You begin to feel your pussy contour around the head. The crowning phase. You've heard others in the concubines court speak of this phase. They all call it torture.

You bear down, the lips of your pussy squirt out a bit of fluid. A slight teardrop slit opens and the base of your pussy bowls outward with the head. You scream into your rag and clench your fists around your sheets. The Emperor may have bred your fertile body too well.

The baby is massive. So big in fact that you're not sure you're having twins anymore. A twin baby would be much easier, faster than this. It's too big to have possibly been sharing space with another babe. Another contraction comes, you push. The small slit of a crown opens. Once the contraction and your force ebbs away, the slit closes once again.

Another cycle begins. The head continues to recede after each push. Exhaustion is setting in. You remember how it felt to have the baby sit heavily in your hips when you'd stand.

You tiredly get off your back. You get on your knees and instantly feel an increase in pressure. You raise yourself up and grip the headboard with white knuckles, gravity forces your pussy open around the massive head. You cry out, your back arches, your fattened lips bulge wider than ever before. The weight of your baby is causing it to move itself out of you.

But you're not prepared. Your pussy, not given time to stretch beyond a small slit, blazes around the crown. Your hand shoots to the growing crown attempting to slow the progress. Then your body contracts and betrayed by your instincts you push with it. All your body knows is that you need to get the Emperor's heir out. You push against your hands restraint, fluids sputtering around your fingers.

Your mouth opens wide in an airy scream and your eyes roll back as the myriad of sensations overwhelm you.

A huge pop and gush of fluids hits your bed. Your body shakes at the sudden release of pressure but you know it's not over. The shoulders. You try to control yourself, but it's been too long. The lips of your pussy spread open around broad shoulders. Your counter pressure is useless against your body and gravity. The burn turns into bolts of pain as your pussy threatens to tear.

Your entire body seizes. The shoulders pop out. Your belly deflates completely into an empty rounded mound. The body of your massive baby hits the bed between your legs. You pant and reach down to pick up the Emperor's large gift. The touch of its parent quickens it and the room echoes with its strong whimpers. The stinging and throbbing in your crotch doesn't subside. It's likely you've torn, even if only a bit.

You ease yourself down to the bed with your baby in your hands and bunch up the sheets to your stinging crotch. Right now, you can only think about how you need to get ready for court and take your place as the Emperor's favorite.

~~~

All of the court goes silent when they see you walk painfully in. The Emperor gawks in awe. The other concubines stare in disbelief. You are as cleaned up as someone who has just given birth a mere dozen hours ago could be. Your cleavage leaves little to the imagination with the depth of the neckline and your midriff is still round enough to poke through your clothes. But you maintain the farce that you've easily birthed a thirteen pound baby by yourself.