You're the xenobiologist on a spaceship that's studying a lifeform found on one of the planets your team recently visited. It's a mass of tentacles, barely the size of a tennisball, but it's growing quickly and becoming more and more aggressive. It seems to be the most at peace when it's in its hide - one of those little plastic caves you put in a hamster cage - but it will outgrow that, too, by the end of the week. There's really only one place that it can be kept safe that it won't outgrow immediately. If you can't calm the creature, your superiors are going to kill it. You know how to help, and you've grown fond of it, so you volunteer. Your womb will make the perfect warm, dark place.
As you enter your lab, the lifeform goes into a frenzy, slamming itself against the glass walls of its little enclosure. It's grown since the meeting two days ago; now the size of a softball. Your partner closes the laboratory door behind you, and the locks slide into place with a heavy metallic thud. You take a deep breath, slide your pants off and kick them aside. The creature calms as you approach, waiting to see what you're going to do before it makes its move.
"Alright, you," you address it nervously. "I'm going to open your enclosure, and you're not going to try and kill me, okay?"
Its tentacles, transparent and slimy, feel around the seams of the enclosure's door. You sit in your chair, wheel up to the table, then spread your legs. With a shaky breath, you reach for the latch on the box, then flick it open. Instantly, it pushes the door open and wraps its tentacles around your hand. You check your breathing, trying not to panic as it begins to squeeze.
"Easy now..."
With your free hands, you spread your lower lips, then position the lifeform in front of your opening. It was smart and curious. It would understand.
"You'll like it in there," you promise when it hesitates. "No tricks. Just a nice place to sleep."
One tentacle reaches out and curls around your clit, while another prods at your urethra and a third slips into your cunt, feeling, exploring deep. You grit your teeth as the tentacle in your urethra slides in further and pray that the alien won't choose your bladder instead of your womb. It adds two more tentacles to the one in your cunt, and you can feel it exploring your cervix.
It feels good.
But that pleasure turns to pain as it forces your cervix open and pulls itself partially inside of your cunt, stretching your entrance around its soft body. It could relax, making itself smaller, but it wanted to get a good feel for the space inside.
"That's it...." you breathe. "All yours."
The rest of it slides inside, and you can't help but clench around it. It freezes, but only for a moment, and then it begins to force itself past your cervix and into your womb. That stretch isn't nearly as pleasant as the previous, and you grit your teeth hard as you ride it out. The creature is cautious, going slowly, stopping partially inside, forcing your cervix to remain stretched around its form.
And then it slides the rest of the way in and your body closes around it. It shifts and turns and pushes at your walls, bulging your belly outward until it finds a comfortable position and settles down. And there it remains, your new little friend, content in the warm and dark, where it will feed off of your menstrual blood and continue to grow. How big? No one knows, but even if you were to change your mind, there is no way to get the creature out now. You and it are one, from now until it decides its ready for a new home. If it decides its ready for a new home. It may be content to stay with you forever.
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Mpreg themed April Phools is plausible but I just feel like theyâre so extra they wouldnât just go for Phil with a baby bump, theyâd make it something like Phil being pregnant with alien babies and theyâd get PJ to help make a belly that could release blue eggs out the belly button or something and theyâd make a video or series of photos of him âgiving birthâ to these little eggs
Jake "The Hammer" Thompson, a peak MLB star, undergoes a surreal transformation after a white flash during backyard practice. Over one game, he becomes nine months pregnant, his body morphing inning by inningâswelling belly, lactating pecs, wider hipsâwhile battling cravings, physical strain, and a baseball bat incident. Unnoticed by teammates, he gives birth to a green humanoid baby in the ninth inning during a rain delay, only for a second flash to make seem like it never happen, but Left with a bulkier frame and lactating pecs, Jake embraces his new identity as the "Big Hammer," exuding confidence in his transformed body.
Jake "The Hammer" Thompson was a Major League Baseball titan. With his ruggedly handsome faceâsharp jawline, piercing blue eyes, and a physique radiating powerâhe was masculinity incarnate. His biceps bulged with every swing, his broad chest a fortress of strength. On the afternoon before a critical playoff game, Jake was in his sprawling backyard, perfecting his swing. The sun gleamed off his sweat-drenched skin as he stood in nothing but short running shorts, hugging his chiseled thighs.
He tossed a ball skyward, swung his bat, andâcrack!âsent it soaring. But then, the unthinkable happened. The ball stopped midair, striking an invisible wall. Before Jake could react, a blinding white flash engulfed him, and he crumpled to the grass.
âJake! Hey, Jake! You okay?â a voice broke through.
He groaned, sitting up as his assistant, Tyler, loomed over him. âDude, what happened? Youâve been out here for hours. Itâs time to goâthe gameâs in an hour!â
âHours?â Jake muttered, dazed. âIt was just noonâŠâ Standing, he froze. His running shorts were gone, replaced by tight white briefsâsomething heâd never worn. They clung to his hips, alien and snug.
âYeah, Iâm fine,â Jake said, brushing it off. But as he walked inside, a soreness pulsed in his backside. He chalked it up to the fall and rushed to get ready.
In the locker room, amid the pre-game bustle, Jake stripped down and grabbed his jockstrap. As he pulled it on, he froze. His ass was biggerârounder, fuller, straining the straps. Worse, his asshole felt⊠stretched, unnaturally wide. He clenched, heart racing. âIâm not gay,â he growled to himself. âNever have been, never will be.â The soreness deepened, an urge flickering, but he shoved it down, yanking on his uniformâpants, jersey, cap.
The game began, and Jake stepped up to the plate. Crack! His bat sent the ball screaming into the outfield. The crowd roared as he sprinted to first.
First Inning
By the inningâs end, Jake felt a faint bloating in his abdomen, like heâd overeaten. A heat flared in his groinâraw, insistent. His balls swelled, growing heavy, and a massive erection strained his pants. He crossed his legs on the bench, mortified, but no one noticed. Tyler handed him water, oblivious to the tent or the slight belly curve. The urge in his plump, sore ass gnawed at him.
Second Inning
In the dugout, Jakeâs abs softened further, his jersey clinging to a rounded waistline. Then nausea hitâsharp, churning morning sickness. He bolted to the locker room, barely making it to a trash can before vomiting. Panting, he leaned against the wall, his erection throbbing, balls like weights. âGotta deal with this,â he muttered. He started masturbating, hand franticâbut then his eyes caught a baseball bat leaning nearby. His bigger asshole pulsed with that maddening urge. Before he could stop himself, he grabbed the bat, slicked it with spit, and slid it in. The sensation was instantâhe came hard, shuddering. Then disgust crashed over him. âWhat the fuck did I just do?â he rasped, yanking it out. He wasnât gayâcouldnât be. Gagging at himself, he wiped everything down, cleaned up fast, and stumbled back to the field, face flushed. No one commented on his absence.
Third Inning
At bat, Jakeâs balance wavered, his stomach a small, firm bump. Mid-inning, a gnawing hunger hit, his stomach growling audibly. Then a pressure builtâhe had to pee. He jogged to the locker room, unzipping his pants. Standing at the urinal, he caught his reflectionâhis midsection was thicker, heavier. Finishing, he struggled to button his pants, the waistband digging into his flesh. âJust bloated,â he muttered, playing it off, though the weight felt real. He adjusted his jersey and returned to the field, the crowd cheering, blind to his changes. His erection lingered, balls heavy.
Fourth Inning
By the fourth, his uniform stretched over a noticeable bulge. His plump ass jiggled, still sore. In the dugout, hunger gnawed again. He grabbed a bag of peanuts from a stash, munching between plays. Then the urge to pee hitâagain. He dashed to the bathroom, relieved himself, and returned, stuffing more peanuts in his mouth. Carlos raised an eyebrow. âYou hittinâ the john a lot, Hammer.â Jake shrugged, popping a nut. âDrank too much water earlier, man. No big deal.â
Fifth Inning
Halfway through, Jakeâs jersey strained over a five-month swell. He waddled on the bases, balls heavy. In the dugout, he tore into a pack of beef jerky, chewing loudly. Another pee break followed. Tyler smirked. âWhatâs with the bathroom runs, dude?â Jake waved it off. âJust flushing out the pre-game nerves, bro.â He felt a kick, nearly choking on the jerky, but thought it was just gas.
Sixth Inning
In the sixth, Jakeâs muscular frame was dwarfed by a six-month belly. His ass ached, rounder still. He snagged a candy bar, scarfing it down as he waited his turn. Another urgent pee breakâhis third in three innings. Carlos laughed. âYou got a bladder the size of a pea, man?â Jake forced a grin. âGuess Iâm just hydrated as hell today.â He slammed a home run, the crowd wild, oblivious.
Seventh Inning
Stretch time hit, and Jake could barely move. His seven-month belly was taut, too big for his jersey now. The hem rode up, exposing a strip of taut, rounded skin below his navel. He tugged at it, but it wouldnât cover. Something shifted insideâa flutter, a roll. âJust gas,â he muttered, rubbing it. Then his chest tightened. His pecs, once slabs of muscle, were swelling, growing softer, heavier. His nipples hardened, poking through the fabric, hypersensitive. Brushing against his jersey sent a jolt through him, and he winced, crossing his arms. The pitcher nodded as if nothing had changed. Jake hit again, the crowd roaringâunseeing
Eighth Inning
By the eighth, Jakeâs uniform was a shell over an eight-month swell, belly peeking out further. His jersey buttons strained, about to pop, creaking with every breath. His ass felt massive, balls a constant pull, pecs huge and tender. Right before the inning ended, dark clouds rolled inâa rain delay was called. Players scattered for cover. In the dugout, Jakeâs hunger surged. He grabbed a hotdog, slathering it with pickles and a scoop of ice cream from a nearby coolerâan odd craving he couldnât resist. He devoured it, the bizarre mix hitting the spot. Thenâpop! Two jersey buttons flew off, exposing his swollen belly fully. His undershirt stretched tight across the top, outlining every curve. Embarrassed, and feeling the urge to pee again, he lumbered to the locker room.
There, he ripped off his pantsâthey wouldnât fit anymoreâand grabbed a pair with a waist size heâd never dreamed of wearing, triple-XL or more. He couldnât peel off his undershirt; it clung like a second skin. Standing before a mirror, he saw himself: a hulking, pregnant giant, belly massive, pecs swollen, ass plump. Tears welled upâJake never cried, but this broke him. âWhat am I?â he sobbed. Then he wiped his eyes, flexed his bicep. The muscle still bulged, powerful beneath the changes. Something shiftedâhe liked it. He felt huge, unstoppable. He pulled on a giant jersey, XXXL, draping over him like a tent. Looking again, he smirked. âFuck it. Iâm a beast.â He strode back to the field, ready for the ninth.
Ninth Inning
The rain cleared, and Jake was nine months pregnant, belly a colossal sphere, half-exposed under the oversized jersey. His ass was a sore, plump marvel, balls torturous, pecs throbbing. In the dugout, waiting his turn, he felt something wet on his chest. He looked downâhis pecs, now soft and breast-like, leaked a milky fluid. Lactating. âWhat the hell?â he hissed, grabbing paper towels from a stack, wiping it up, and stuffing more under his jersey before anyone could notice. His nipples ached, dampness seeping through, but the XXXL jersey hid it. With the game tied, bases loaded, he waddled to the plate. Crack! A grand slam. The stadium erupted as he lumbered around the bases, collapsing at home as they won. Teammates hoisted him up, chanting âHammer!âânone seeing his plight.
Post-Game
After the celebration, Jake slipped into the locker room, waiting until the last teammate left. Alone, he stripped off the oversized jersey and pants, waddling to the shower. Hot water hit his massive bodyâwide hips flaring out, belly enormous, pecs swollen. He ran his hands over himself, marveling at the transformation. Then a rush of liquid gushed from his assâhis water broke. âWhat theâ?â he gasped, sitting on the tiled floor. His asshole stretched wider than ever, a searing pressure building. He pushed, grunting, and out slid a green humanoid baby, small and slick. Shocked, he scooped it into his arms, staring at its tiny, alien face. It cooed softly.
A rustle echoed behind him. Before he could turn, another blinding white flash erupted. When his vision cleared, he was sitting on a locker room bench, dressed in his baseball uniformâthe original one, though it strained against his still-larger frame. The baby was gone. His belly was flatter but not flat, his hips wider, his pecs heavier. Everythingâthe pregnancy, the birthâfelt like a dream. He stood, flexing his bicep, still powerful, still huge. His body was different, irrevocably altered, but the proof of the nightâs madness had vanished. He exhaled, shaking his head. âWhat the hell was that?â he muttered, alone with his new reality.
Aftermath
Days later, Jake decided he liked the belly. He started eating moreâsteaks, burgers, whole pizzasâwhile hitting the gym hard, keeping it tight and firm, a muscular dome complementing his powerful arms. His hips stayed wide, his ass plump, his pecs still lactate-ready. He still loved womenâtheir curves, their softnessâbut climaxing with them felt muted, unsatisfying, not like before. That big hole in his ass, stretched and needy, lingered in his mind.
One night, restless, he sought out a manâbig, rough, well-endowed. âFill it,â Jake muttered, bending over. The guy obliged, thrusting deep, and Jake groaned, the sensation electric. Then he guided the manâs mouth to his chest. âSuck.â The guy latched onto a nipple, drawing out warm milk from his huge, lactating pecs. Pleasure exploded through Jake, sharper than anything heâd felt in years. He came hard, trembling, the dual stimulation overwhelming. It became a patternâmen with big dicks to satisfy his ass, breastfeeding them with his pecs for that extra rush. He wasnât gay, he told himself; it was just mechanics, a need his body demanded.
Jake stood before a mirror, flexing his biceps, admiring his bulkâbelly taut, hips broad, pecs heavy with milk. He felt powerful, a new kind of Hammer. The white flash had changed him, and heâd made it his own.
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stan getting impregnated with alien dna by ford for one of his experiments while he sleeps. you know, for science đ
stan's a little dumb and doesn't figure it out until an alien baby is halfway out of him lol
drooling at the Dubcon context to this... making this Trans!Stan :)
Ford's already gotten the green light to perform some experiments on Stan so he takes it Way Too Far. there's a specific alien species that gestates in a whole earth day, its too easy for Ford to replicate an egg and matching inseminating fluid. Almost too easy to drug Stan so he doesn't wake up while Ford's fucking the alien semen into him.
Stan would sleep for the next five hours, waking up to a bloated belly and feeling queasy. Ford would make some excuse to leave the dock and go into the town of whatever port is there and expertly time it so that he's back as soon as Stan's going into labor. Stan doesn't think anything of it, but quickly realizes something's off as the hours pass.
His stomach skin stretches, his balance is more off than usual, hips aching. It's only when his rounded out belly starts to cramp considerably, groaning as he wobbles to the full body mirror in their little boat to gaze at green stretchmarks across his tender skin.
Needless to say, he's freaking out alone and wondering what the hell is happening. He listens to his body, groaning loudly when it's time to push but doesn't connect-the-dots until, like you said, he's crowning.
From his place on the couch on their boat, he can feel his insides opening up, burning the entire time. Once Stan reaches a hand down and feels something solid coming out of his hole, he realizes this is some messed up experiment that Sixer took way too far this time.
He's mad, but deals with it as he pushes through the pain alone, only interrupted by the Devil himself returning and calling for him. Stan hears the door behind him open, Ford gasps, as he lets out a long grunt as he tries to push the large head between his thighs out of his tired pussy.
Ford approaches hesitantly, as he was supposed to be back before this part happened. He watches as Stan's muscles flex; thighs, stomach, hands gripping the edge of the cushion. His hole is straining open around a pale orb of the alien life he bred his brother with, at a full crown and even almost to pushing the head out. Stan cries out beautifully, in another hard effort he finally pushes it out with a gush of fluid. Ford's cock twitches, and he hears Stan whimper, "Bastard, at least warn me next time."
Kas and I have mutually agreed to write a book together!
They know pretty much everything there is to know about storytelling, plot, character creation, worldbuilding... all that important stuff. However, they're not a writer.
Lucky for them, I am! So they're the mastermind and I'm the wordsmith.
I also would definitely have an audience for it. (Some of you folks, at least.) In the simplest of terms, it's whumpy alien mpreg. It's going to be intense! Kas already started creating the culture of the main aliens, and a bunch of different characters. However, no one has names yet. That'll definitely change when we sit down and start working on this in earnest.
becoming a single parent after an unplanned pregnancy is stressful enough, but when your child is of extraterrestrial origin it might even make you question your sanity, especially if they suddenly start defying gravity. they do grow up fast though! this little nipper's appropriately named "starchild".
[ID: a series of in-game snapshots from the sims 2 depicting the initial pregnancy and home life of an adult male sim raising his alien baby in a double-wide trailer on the edge of strangetown, during which time his low aspiration leads to a visit from the therapist. in one scene the infant appears to be floating in mid-air in front of him, and in the final pic she is already a toddler wanting out of her crib. /end ID]
