You know how theres long distance toys where a partner can be on the other side of the world but still control it? like those lovense vibes? (inspired by @bredpun's egg toy posts)
I wish there was a toy that was that for eggs and/or cum 😩. Logistically yeah I know this would be a nightmare and the person using the toy would have to load the eggs into the ovipositor and would be limited by the number you owned but just imagine if it was possible
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You’re sitting at your desk, working from home, trying to focus on a spreadsheet while your mind is miles away, tethered to your partner’s office across the city. They know you’ve been useless all morning—they know you can’t even think straight when you're empty, that your brain only starts to click into gear once you're properly filled up. The toy is a familiar weight deep inside you. Suddenly, the first pulse hits, a deep thrum that makes your breath catch as you squirm in your chair.
Thump.
The first egg materializes, a slick, heavy displacement. It’s a sudden, needy pressure that makes you moan, your hips bucking against the seat. You can almost see them leaning back in their office chair, eyes dark as they hover their thumb over the "Generate" button, finally giving you the “fullness” you've been aching for.
Thump. Thump.
Two more forced in, and you’re already squirming from the pressure. You’ve been craving this all morning—this heavy, rounded fullness. You reach down, your hand trembling as you cup your lower belly. It’s already starting to firm up, a slight, hard curve pushing against your palm.
Thump-thump-thump.
Your partner slides the delivery to "Rapid." You gasp, your head falling back as the infinite supply floods you. The toy whirs, a high-pitched purr vibrating against your cervix, summoning eggs faster than you can adjust. You’re stretching. You’re growing. Every new arrival is a blunt, pleasurable intrusion, making your internal walls expand until you’re moaning from the sheer volume.
The fabric of your leggings goes sheer as your stomach distends into a heavy, taut lumpy dome. You watch in a daze as your midsection swells, your navel shallowing out until it’s just a memory. You’re huge, your stomach shelfing over your lap, packed so full that the eggs bump against each other internally—a sensation that sends jolts through your spine.
"More," you whisper, your voice thick. "Please, just fill me up. Make me bigger."
As if they heard you, the toy’s vibration kicks. It’s the "Settle and Pack" protocol, vibrating the massive weight to push the eggs together, clearing just enough room for the next wave. Your stomach jumps and ripples, a visible proof of their remote control. You are in ecstasy
The spreadsheet is a blurred memory. You are visibly distended, a heavy, hard dome pressing against your shirt, packed so tight you can only take shallow breaths. You’re addicted to this overwhelming fullness.
Suddenly, your phone flashes. It’s a video call. You fumble to answer, fingers clumsy. Your partner’s face fills the screen, a playful smirk on their lips as they look down at where your shirt is straining against the crowded clutch. They know exactly how much better you feel now that you’re properly occupied. On the screen, you see their thumb hover, then slide the toggle from Generate to Infuse.
You gasp as the toy shifts to a high-pitched whir. A new sensation hits—a hot, heavy rush. It’s a thick, pressurized flood of fluid, filling every tiny space between the eggs. It feels like pouring concrete into a jar of marbles. The pressure doubles instantly. Your stomach doesn't just grow; it tightens until it feels like a drum skin, your belly letting out an angry, muffled gurgle from the sheer mass.
On the video call, your partner watches your expression fracture.
“Touch yourself for me,” they command, their voice rough. “Show me how big I made you.”
You cave, moaning in a mix of pain and pleasure as you rub your huge, vibrating gut for the camera.
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You had discovered this seemingly untouched paradise a few months ago, while on a solo trip, making camp whenever the sun threatened to set. You have never seen anything like it, truly; a stunning, wide waterfall into a massive lake, surrounded by foliage and trees that quickly thickened mere yards from the lake itself. Enticing flowers, soft native grasses, preening ferns, all encased by tall, withstanding, trees with an abundant of leaves.
You hadn't expected what lurked in the pond, but you had seen the teasing of a cave opening behind the waterfall. It was hot, you had been walking, and you were sweaty, and most of all- alone, so you thought. Surely a quick dip would hurt, right?
You dropped your gear far enough away to not get wet, stripped your clothes and laid them out to dry, and swam into the lake, brushing past what felt like water plants.
It was but mere minutes of splashing about and enjoying yourself when, suddenly, what you thought was a plant quickly wrapped itself around your leg, another taking your other leg, and as what felt like suckers began to stick to your legs for a better grip, you realized that what you had brushed was not, in fact, plant-like at all.
Too little, too late- suddenly there were more tentacles- because these had to be tentacles, even if they belonged to no octopus or squid on the planet- began to brush against you, wind around your waist to better hold you in place despite all your efforts to struggle out.
And then, one of them, a much thicker-feeling one, brushed against your most sensitive spot, and your body reacted as all bodies do, and whatever it was that had you seemed to know it too.
You didn't even have time to gasp, before that tentacle was teasing your folds, finding your warming hole, and burrowing in.
Any sound you would have made was cut off by the sudden rush of being filled, and then the tentacle continued to push in even further, stretching you out, stuffing your pussy full, and then going even further- past your cervix, which oddly enough didn't even hurt.
You felt hot, all over but especially in your core and your clit and your hole. You felt yourself getting wet, despite being in the water. You had stopped struggling the moment the tentacle found its way inside you and had opened your legs wider, to allow more of it in.
The tentacle made its way into your warm, ready womb, and began to feel around, pushing and prodding at different areas, before oh-so-slowly retreating. You swore you were there for entire minutes as it pulled out of you.
Once it did, you heavily mourned its loss, but you had barely a moment to brace as you were pulled forward, into the waterfall and then behind it into the cave and then further, away from the sunlight and into the dark, where the tentacles glowed but not enough to reveal what had you.
You were laid on the stone floor where it sloped into the water, your bottom half submerged, and the tentacles wrapped around you again and spread your legs as far as they could go, except this time more held you down by the torso, entwining around your plump tits, and bound your arms above you.
You watched in odd anticipation as a tentacle that had to be even thicker than the last felt you down, teased your fold open much like the last one, and bulled into your hole without hesitation. You were filled up almost immediately, and then stretched further than you thought possible, and a single, short and utterly filthy moan escaped you.
The tentacle thrust into you as much as possible, but it didn't go past your cervix, and instead seemed to pull out of you almost as slowly as the last one- this creature was fucking you.
And you felt nothing but pleasure and heat and the need for more- you wanted it to fill you to the brim, to burrow into your womb like the last one and stay there.
It was teasing you by pulling out so slowly. You whined and moaned and wordlessly begged. When it was just the tip left, it paused, and the excitement you felt at getting split again waned when it did nothing, just stayed there. You began to get restless, and frustrated, and needy.
And when you least expected it, it thrust into you again as fast as before, trying to fit even more of itself into you, and all you could do was shout in ecstasy.
When it pulled out, it went faster, and didn't wait for anything before bulling into you again. With every retreat, it got faster, and faster, and faster, and next thing you knew you were laying there getting endlessly fucked by it, no space to breath, constant whimpers and cute moans and trembling limbs. The tentacles coiled around your breasts began to squeeze in time, and suckers latched onto your nipples to suck in time, and next thing you knew you were approaching the edge-
And then, with one last, massive, fast fuck, it billowed in you, and pushed past your cervix, where you felt the tip expanding, and everything... stopped?
You whined, high and loud and slutty, looking down at where your pussy was stretched around a glowing tentacle, only to see something inside stretching the limb around it, moving down, down, down... to your entrance, where it stopped.
The creature tensed the muscles behind the egg, thrust the tentacle deeper into you, where the bulbous shape pushed past your folds, pushing against the walls of your pussy even more than the tentacle had, and you keened, higher than you thought possible for you and echoing throughout the cave, as it slowly inched its way further in, slipping past your cervix and into your womb, where you felt a rush of something, and the round shape settle into you. It was laying its eggs in you.
You had never been so wet.
Eagerly, you opened your legs impossibly wider, and watching with whoreish anticipation as each egg made its way to you, where you matched its thrusts to get the eggs inside of you as fast as possible, to settle into your waiting womb.
The space between each egg got shorter and shorter, until they were each coming right behind the other, and no more thrusts were needed because your entrance was perpetually kept stretched open enough for each egg to slip on by. The creature still did, at random, to keep you edging. This was the best fuck you've ever had.
Slowly, you watched your stomach expand as you quickly lost count of eggs, first a slight bulge, then a prominent one, and quickly enough you couldn't even see the tentacle nor your pussy anymore, and even further beyond. 9 months pregnant, then past due, then twins, then triplets, and even further beyond that. The tentacles shifted and rolled you onto your side as you got bigger and bigger, shifted everything inside of you and you almost came then and there.
Whole feet, then yards. You were pregnant with a whole adult person, then two.
It stopped at three, before exiting your cervix, but the expanded tip didn't shrink, and there were still eggs in it. It laid them in your hole, then, three of them- they kept you perpetually stretched out, and you knew you were going to be edging for a long while. You were excited at the idea, and felt a gush of slick in anticipation.
The third one sat right at the entrance to your hole, keeping your folds open, and the tip stayed inflated as it held them in place, before-
More tentacles, thinner than the last but still thick enough, multiple of them- you couldn't see past your engorged belly to count how many- pushed and fought their way past the eggs into you, at different speeds and stopping at different lengths inside, bulling into your womb and stopping right at it and only going halfway through or just shy of the tip, each of them fucking you at their own pace, and your screamed in a rush and blissful heat and joy and pure dopamine flooded your system, finally cumming, and the tentacles fucked you all the way through it and then past it, endlessly thrusting in and out until you were edging on a second orgasm, at the very precipice, before they each seemed to inflate in girth and then gushed themselves, fertilizing the eggs inside you.
Nothing dripped out, thanks to the one still holding everything in place, and centimeter by centimeter, all the limbs left you. The eggs in your pussy were so big that you couldn't close your legs together even if you wanted to, and your stomach was so absolutely massive that you couldn't even move. The other limbs around your waist and arms and tits stayed, keeping you in place. You were beyond frustrated, squirming and grinding your legs together to try and get you past that edge of the climax, but the tentacles stuck to your nipples and wound around your tits squeezed and sucked hard in punishment, and while it was delightful, it did nothing.
You were stuck, irritated in the best way, stuffed beyond measure, bound and naked until you laid the eggs or they hatched in you, and you were more than happy, honestly.
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A massively pregnant man carrying ridiculously overdue and obese multiples, constantly on the verge of giving birth. He's panting and groaning on the couch, rubbing his bare, hairy belly because his shirt doesn't even begin to cover it and is instead stretched tightly over his engorged, leaking daddy tits.
"Gonna pop..." he's been moaning for months, feeling a head the size and weight of a bowling ball low in his hips, ready to fall right out from between his thick thighs. "Ohhhh, fuck, need to birth... t-too big... gonna burst...!"
His partner laughs as he passes by, rubbing the round, heavy daddy's belly, apparently just a bit too hard. His water breaks, flooding out of him and soaking the floor and couch, and he screams, contracting and pushing all in that one moment. That melon sized head barrels out of him, bulging his sweatpants which are already too tight for his pregnancy-fattened body. Yet, it pops right out, followed by the shoulders, until the thirty-five pound baby squelches out and into his pants.
Happy Sunday, bunnies! Hope y'all are having a lovely weekend so far. I just want to share a free-for-all story that hopefully y'all enjoy reading.
Status: Complete
Word count: 2,091 words
Summary: A woman gives birth in the back row of an economy cabin over international waters.
Warnings: MDNI. 18+ only. This fic contains explicit depictions of pregnancy, labor, and birth. Unassisted in-flight birth, graphic crowning and delivery, gushing fluids, concealed labor and birth in a public setting, a nursing infant, a husband who jerks off to his wife giving birth secretly in public. All characters and scenes are purely fictional. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
"Ma'am, can I get you anything? A pillow, some water?"
The flight attendant — young, neat ponytail, name tag that said Cara — was already reaching for the overhead compartment before Reggie could answer, and Reggie kept her face as composed as she could manage, which was getting harder by the minute.
"Water would be great, thank you," she said, and her voice only caught slightly on the last word because the contraction that had been building for the last thirty seconds chose that exact moment to crest, rolling through her lower back and down into her pelvis with a deep, grinding force that made her press her thighs together under the blanket.
Cara set the cup on the tray and moved on down the aisle without a second glance, and Reggie let out the breath she'd been holding in a long, controlled stream. "Hoo... hoo hoo... hhhh."
"How far apart now?" Dax asked from the aisle seat beside her, not looking up from his phone.
"A minute forty," she said through her teeth. "Maybe less."
He set the phone face-down on his thigh and turned to look at her then, and she knew that look. She'd known it for twenty years, had catalogued every version of it, and this particular version had nothing to do with worry.
His eyes moved from her face down to the enormous, low-hanging globe of her belly, round and gravid and pressing heavily into her lap even with her knees drawn up as far as the seat would allow, and something in his expression settled into that private, focused attention that made her want to hit him and also made her stomach flip despite everything.
"You're fine," he said.
"I know I'm fine," Reggie said. "I'm just telling you how close I am."
Three rows ahead of them, their older three were out cold in a heap of travel pillows, the eldest with her mouth open and her neck at an angle that was going to hurt later. Nobody back here was awake.
The nearest passengers were a row up on the opposite side, both wearing noise-canceling headphones, completely sealed off from the world. The back of the cabin was dim and close and, for the moment, theirs.
“I knew we shouldn’t have flown to see your mother.” Reggie said bitterly through another tightening.
Theo stirred against her side and she guided him back to her breast without thinking about it, and he latched and settled immediately, his fat fist curling against her with the total confidence of someone who had never once in his eleven months worried about anything.
"Get the leggings down," Dax said with a wry smile.
Reggie stared at him. "We are in economy, lest you forget."
"And you are about to have a baby in economy," he said so calmly, it’s getting into her nerves, "so get the leggings down and keep the blanket over your lap, and nobody is going to see anything."
She hated that he was right.
She hated it with a specific, well-worn bitterness that had been accumulating since the seventh month when he'd first floated this whole scenario as though it were perfectly reasonable, but hating it didn't change the fact that not only their fifth baby currently lodged in her pelvis had a non-negotiable opinion about its arrival but she also deep inside love this whole idea.
She worked the leggings and her underwear down her thighs in the cramped space, shifting her hips, and got them free of one ankle and bunched around the other before she pulled the blanket back over herself.
She pressed her palm between her thighs and felt the swollen, taut heat of herself, her labia already full, bulging and aching, the baby's head bearing down so far into the birth canal that even the light pressure of her own hand sent a sharp wave of sensation flooding up through her core.
"It's right there," she said, and her voice had gone very low. "Dax. The head is about to come…hoooo–hooo hooo hoooo–”
He reached over and lifted the edge of the blanket just long enough to look, and she watched his jaw tighten in a way that had nothing to do with alarm.
"Yeah," he said, and let the blanket fall back. "It is." He grabbed his own blanket and set it over his thighs, too, trying to cover is growing bulge there, too.
The next contraction didn't give her a warning.
It arrived hard and low, seizing her from the base of her spine and driving straight down with a force that shoved the baby’s fat head forward against her hand, and she crammed her face into Dax's upper arm and bit down on the sound that tore up her throat.
"MMMPHH — nnHH — oh god —hooooooooo–hooo hooo hoooo–" She ground her teeth into his sleeve, her fingers pressing desperately against her vulva, feeling the head surge against them with every pulse of the contraction. Her perineum burned, already stretching, the whole front wall of her vagina pushing outward. "HhhhNNGH — Dax, it's pushing through, I can feel it pushing —"
"Don't fight it," he said, low in her ear.
"I'm trying to slow it down, if I just —" She shifted her hips and immediately regretted it because the movement brought the baby down another fraction and the pressure from her movement and the toddler she was carrying went from enormous to total. "HHMMPHH — okay, okay —hoooo hoooo hooooooo—"
"Stop trying to slow it down, Reggie."
"There are people on this plane," she hissed, lifting her face just long enough to say it.
"Half of them are asleep and the other half have their headphones in," he said, perfectly level.
She pressed her face back into his arm and bore down because her body had already made that decision, and she felt her labia spread around the advancing head, felt the deep hot stretch of her perineum pulling taut as the baby worked through her cervix and down through the last of the birth canal with the focused, patient insistence of a fifth child who had done this before.
"HhhhNNNGGH — MMPHHH —" The sounds came out in bursts against his sleeve, each one half-swallowed, pressed into the warm bulk of his arm. Her free hand fisted into the blanket. "It's coming through, I feel it coming through —"
"I know you do," he said, and his hand came up to press against the back of her neck, heavy and unhurried. His breathing had changed, she could hear it, the way it had gone slightly uneven, and she knew exactly what that meant.
"You are such an ass," she breathed into his arm.
"Head down," he said.
She put her head down on his arm.
Her palm cupped against herself felt the shift — the teardrop shape of the head pressing outward between her folds, small and firm and wet, pushing against the stretched ring of her labia with a force that made her clitoris ache from the inside out. The skin of her perineum was pulling to its absolute limit, and amniotic fluid was already leaking steadily over her fingers and soaking into her leggings beneath her.
"HHhhNNGH — MMMPHHHH —" She pushed into the next contraction, long and grinding, and felt the head advance another fraction and hold, lodged at its widest point with her labia stretched in a burning, stinging ring around the crown. "Ohhhh — MMPHHH — it burns, it burns so much —"
"Breathe through it," Dax said.
"Hoo hoo hoo — hhh — hoo hoo —" She panted through the worst of the stretch, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes from the sheer searing heat of it, her fingers spread wide against her perineum to ease what pressure she could. Her vulva was swollen and flushed and stretched fully open around the baby's skull, the shape of the head clearly visible to her own touch, every ridge and curve of it pressing against the taut walls of her vagina as it inched forward.
Through it all, her toddler suckled and slept, milk-drunk, it seems, on her engorged breasts.
Down the aisle, Cara passed through again with a drinks trolley and Reggie felt her go past without looking up, face pressed into Dax's arm, the blanket pulled high, breathing in hard controlled bursts through her nose.
Cara paused.
"Is she alright?" she asked Dax, keeping her voice low.
"Migraine," Dax said, without missing a beat. "She gets them on long flights. She just needs to stay still and keep her eyes closed."
A brief pause, and then the trolley moved on.
Reggie would have laughed if there had been any breath left in her body to do it with, but another contraction rolled in on the heels of the last one and she pushed, hard, bearing down with everything she had left, and felt the head inch forward into a full crown — fully out, fully free, sitting heavy and wet and slick in her cupped hand with amniotic fluid running in a warm, gushing stream down her inner thighs and pooling in the leggings beneath her, catching on the hem of the blanket.
"HHNNNN — MMMPHHHH —" The sound tore out of her muffled and desperate, her whole body trembling, and she felt Dax's hand press harder against the back of her neck. "Haaaahh — haaaah — okay — okay, the head is out, Dax, the head is —"
"I know," he said. "Keep going." at this point, he looked around and brought a hand under his blanket to reach inside his sweatpants, giving his hard and leaking cock a few pumps.
She snorted at what he did but bit her lip and stroked her thumb over the wet hair plastered against the skull between her legs, feeling the baby shift and rotate under her fingers, the presenting shoulder turning into position.
She knew this feeling. She loved this feeling, even now, even here, pressed into the back row of an economy cabin thirty thousand feet over the Pacific with her husband's arm as the only thing keeping her from making a sound that would wake every sleeping passenger from here to the galley.
She genuinely, in her bones, loved this.
“Dax,” she whispered hoarsely, and he looked down on her, eyes glossed over, hand pumping himself as discreetly as he can.
“Yeah, babe?”
“Kiss me…”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He leaned down and kissed his wife as he continued to pump himself, feeling his balls start to tighten a bit as they made out.
The next contraction built and she pushed into it, and the first shoulder eased through with a long, wet, squelching resistance that pulled a sharp, muffled cry from her throat.
"HHNN — MMPHHH — there — that's it —"
“Let me see, Reg.” He tells her and she sat back and slightly lifted the blanket just enough for him to see it.
“There you go—Mmmmpphhh—haaaaaah–hooo hooo hooo–”
One more push, shorter and decisive, and the second shoulder came free with a slick, gushing rush, and then the rest of the baby slid out into her waiting hands in a warm, wet flood of fluid and relief, trailing the last of the amniotic sac, and Reggie pulled her daughter up against her chest under the blanket and held her there, next to the nursing toddler.
Dax made a grunting sound as he came into the blanket draped over him.
“F–fuck yeah…”
Cara came back through with a stack of napkins six minutes later and stopped at their row again, looking at the blanket-covered situation with eyes that had gone rather wide.
"Oh my god," she said, keeping her voice very low. "Is that — did she just —"
"She did," Dax said, entirely unbothered.
Cara stood very still for a moment. Then she said, "I'm going to get the first aid kit and the senior attendant, and I'm going to need you to not move," and she was gone before Dax could answer.
Reggie looked at the babies on her, one toddler now milk-drunk and deeply asleep and the newborn just latching, her hair sticking to her forehead, her new daughter warm and breathing against her chest.
"You know she's going to file a report," Reggie said.
"Probably," Dax agreed.
Reggie looked down at the babies, then back up at her husband, and she laughed — short and exhausted and completely helpless, the sound muffled quickly against the top of her daughter's head.
"You are so lucky I actually love doing this," she said.
Dax's mouth curved, slow and satisfied. "I know," he said. “I can’t wait for us to do it again.”
-fin
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