Can do!

"you can't give birth here."

"there. that ought to keep that baby in there."

(For the Birth Denial Writing Prompts!)

You're the expectant spouse of a powerful, egotistical king, but you didn't realize the depths of his self-absorption until today.

Today, your kingdom welcomes delegates from all across the continent to an important trade summit. Your spouse has spared no expense in preparing the most lavish, eye-popping display of power and wealth for all his guests-- including you.

You've been dressed in the finest silks and bejeweled clothing to showcase your delicate looks and the massive swell of your pregnant belly for all to see. It doesn't matter to your husband that you've been struggling with contractions since the evening before, nor that you can barely keep upright due to how hard and fast they're now coming. You're meant to be another piece of his display, and that means you'll be at his side, no exceptions. At least until he grows bored of your presence and lets you slip away.

You're bent over a bedroll in all of your naked, emerald-skinned glory. Your normally small, goblin stature is dwarfed by an obscenely distended belly, pillowed beneath you and holding you aloft while your lover pounds into you from behind.

Overdue and miserable, you'd begged them to fuck you in hopes of jumpstarting your labor. Thankfully, they rarely need an excuse to get between your legs.

Your orc's hands are on your hips, their claws digging into your flesh. They're so much bigger than you thanks to their orcish blood, and the combination of your genetics means that your belly has grown much larger than any other pregnant goblin you'd ever seen. Your womb was never meant to be stretched so far or by so many babies, and hints of their large forms are visible along the surface of your stomach.

You're going to have one hell of a time giving birth to your hybrid whelps.

Every thrust makes your heavy breasts bounce and sway beneath you. They're so sensitive and tender, engorged and filled with milk. They've been like that for months now, and the need to be suckled has only gotten worse as your pregnancy has progressed. Your engorged nipples rub against the fabric of the bedroll, leaving a wet trail wherever you go.

A particularly rough thrust sends you skidding forward across the ground, your sensitive nipples dragging against the fabric of the blanket. A moan slips past your lips, and you clench around your lover's cock.

"Hells," they hiss. "I can't hold out much longer, and you're still not close to popping."

"Just… just keep going," you beg, your voice a gravelly wheeze through wickedly sharp teeth. "Please!"

They comply, and you're quickly reduced to a moaning, shuddering mess beneath them. Your green breasts and swollen belly pound against the ground every time they push into you, and you can sense the pressure building inside.

"I think… I think it's working," you gasp. "Fuck, don't stop!"

You cry out as your body tenses up, and you can feel their gnarled cock throbbing deep inside of you. It's too much. You can't handle it anymore.

You come with a loud wail, something popping and giving way inside of you at the same time your lover's hot, sticky release floods your channel.

It doesn't take long for you to realize what just happened. Your lover broke your water, and now the floodgates are open. Their cock is still buried deep inside of you, but there's no stopping it.

Your labor has finally begun.

The doctors have been quite forward with their opinions regarding your pregnancy and birth, but they don't care about you like I do. And I know what's best for my little family.

That's why I make sure to coddle you and help you rest as much as possible during the last month of your pregnancy, because we don't want the babies to come too early. So what if an extra week or two slips by, your belly only getting bigger and bigger along the way? So what if you can no longer get around without my help? I love you, and I'll take care of you.

You're spread out on our bed when your labor starts, your body dwarfed by the taut, rippling sphere of your massive belly. You beg me to help you up so we can go to the hospital, but I've already decided that you'll bring our children into the world in the same bed where they were made.

So try to relax, my darling. Spread your pretty legs and give in to the demands of your body. I'll be here to catch each and every one of our large children. All you need to do is push.

Not at all. If anything, I think it's an excellent show of trust. You were such a good girl when I bred you, so it seems only fitting for you to bring the situation to its obvious conclusion while cuddled up in my lap.

So many scenarios of us being your wife or husband or they/them partner, but what about something more spur-of-the-moment? Imagine bumping into me on a train, only to see I’m enormously pregnant and very clearly in the later stages of labor. Maybe the crotch of my pants are soaked with birth fluid, hell, maybe there’s a bulge forming as my baby peeks out. Either way, despite the fact you’re a complete stranger, I’d give you a pleading look as I barely hold a whimper back, my belly visibly tightening under my tiny shirt. What do you do?

Well, there are a variety of directions that something like this could go in, depending on your preferences. 😉 But I'll keep this one simple.

TW: Birth

Train travel is usually calm and quiet, especially on a route like this with long stretches of time between stops. I manage the on-board service employees and usually encounter folks of all sorts during my shifts, but you… well, you managed to make one hell of an impression.

I love the peace of the overnight shift, rarely ever encountering passengers in the corridors while I make my rounds. But I came up behind you in one of the passenger cars that night, leaning against the wall and not moving. I immediately noticed that the fabric of your pants was dark between your thighs as though you'd wet yourself; maybe you were drunk and didn't quite make it to the bathroom. It seemed only prudent that I stop to see if you needed any help and save myself from having a worse mess to clean up later.

You needed help, all right. But not exactly the type I'd been expecting.