My name’s Pen, and I present to you my pathetic attempt at an ‘About Me’ post! Or whatever it’s called here…
I write!
I like birth. A lot. Sometimes I write about it, and that’s the main focus of this blog. Ideas bouncing around in my empty skull sometimes find their way into the physical realm in the form of words. So I figured I’d do something with them, and with the magic of Tumblr, you can read them!
I really like non-human pregnancies and darker stories, but I’ll write whatever kinky idea pops i to my head or shows up in my ask box. I’m still learning and trying things out, so ideas and tips are greatly appreciated! If you have one, don’t hold back from dropping them in my asks! Or wherever. I still don’t know how this silly site works.
So, kinks?
Obviously, if I’m gonna write something, I need something to write about. So here’s a quick tier list of things I like cause I’m too lazy to write it all out!
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(Content Warning: Violent Sexual Assault, Unwanted Pregnancy, Deeply Unwanted Baby, Abandonment of Baby, Victim Blaming, Gaslighting)
“I’ve had better expeditions…”
Gingerly, the heroine walked toward her steed, trying to ignore the burning throb between her legs. “But… I’ve had worse, too. At least this time I escaped on my own.” The last few times the monster slayer had taken on a quest, her companions had had to find her, rescue her from their lair before anything too terrible happened.
Carefully, Erika mounted, and began the day long trip back to town for her reward. She was on her own this time. “Ok, yes, the Goblins got the jump on me.” She began, muttering to herself. “Held me down, yanked down my leggings and panties, and… had their way with me…” She winced, feeling another throb of pain from the violation. “But they took me back to their nest! I got free and completely wiped them out, no problem! It was barely even that rough of a start!”
Her horse snorted, and she gently rubbed its neck as they rode through the forest. “What’s the worst that could come of it, really? I’m in one piece, some scrapes and bruises, that’s all!” Erika tried not to remember that first part too much. The fists, the grip on her hips, the feeling of that monster pushing inside-
[Calm. You’re safe now. Have some food and water, that’ll help you think.] Erika listened to her inner voice, her gut. Tearing into a loaf of bread she brought, satisfaction washed through her. This was good. She’d done good.
The heroine hadn’t really noticed that she had eaten two entire loaves before she was full. She’d over prepared, had plenty to spare. [What’s really the harm in a little job well done treat?] Her gut asked herself, and Erika couldn't pretend it wasn't a compelling argument.
Later, when it was time to make camp, the monster slayer noticed her shirt not quite fitting right, pants growing a little tight. She was confused at first, before saying to herself [It’s because you ate two loaves of bread, silly. Of course you’re kind of bloated.]
It made sense. Was obvious, even. Of course, in spite of that, the heroine found herself ravenously hungry again, thirsty too. Only once she finished eating did Erika notice how exhausted she felt. “I just feel utterly drained…” she mumbled to herself, barely taking the time to kick off her boots before curling under the blanket to rest.
)----------
She sat in the dark, listening to her heart beat thudding in her ears. There was something off about it, though. It wasn't right, almost like it was hiding something. She listened with all her might. There. She could just barely make it out. A second heartbeat? That didn't make any sense-
He was inside her. He was so deep. She’d never heard his name, didn't know for sure which one was him, but she FELT him, her body struggling to take his knobby goblin dick. Did he know he was her first? That he'd stolen her virginity here on the forest floor?
It was horrible. She hated him. She would kill him. She knows she did. So why? Why did that goblin give its cruel, sharp, wicked grin as she ran toward it? Why did it stare at her like that, at her chest, her belly, even as she attacked?
The second heartbeat slammed in her ears. So close. What did it mean? What it him? He was gone, she’s killed him! He had been inside her. He was gone, she’d killed him, he was inside her, he was gone, she’d killed him, he was-
==)-------
Gasping in a breath, she sat up, dagger in hand. Her other rested protectively over her even larger middle. [Ugh, damn. It’s not like you ate any less at dinner.] Erika began to wonder if she’d developed some kind of reaction to the local grain, or if she’d had some weird plant or mushroom causing this bloating.
Awkwardly, the monster slayer found her feet. Her back was surprisingly sore, her round middle itchy, with angry little marks on it. She hoped she could reach town today, maybe talk to a medicine woman about what's happening to her.
[I don't want to bother her, though…] she thought to herself. [And I would rather be careful travelling through the forest. If I’m close, why not take my time?] That made sense, the adventurer was proud of herself for thinking of it. Taking her time really was the smartest way to go about it, after all.
[But first, a nice big breakfast. You’re almost back to town, after all, you’ll be able to re-stock.] She nodded quietly to herself along with the advice, preparing a breakfast large enough for two, which she happily devoured on her own. [It makes sense that I’m so hungry, I just slayed an entire goblin camp!] She reassured herself, before picking up her space and mounting up once more.
Travel was indeed slow. It was hard to focus on much of anything, and the skilled fighter kept getting distracted by beautiful flowers and strange insects she’d never stopped to appreciate before. “What is wrong with me?” she asked herself, blinking rapidly and trying to re-center. [It’s likely an after effect of what happened. I imagine a lot of women are happy just to be alive after being captured by goblins, let alone… what they did to you.]
The warrior winced. The memory was still so fresh, she could almost feel a throb of pressure through her loins at the thought. No… best not to tempt that event from springing back to her mind until back in town.
By midday, Erika was famished, even as she had to adjust her leggings, letting the bottom of her hard, round belly spill out over the waist. Her tunic, too, seemed to ride over the top, letting her navel be exposed, emphasizing how shallow it had become.
[I need to make camp again.] She told herself, and didn't argue the instinct. The adventuress was already digging into her stores before setting up a cooking fire, savoring the taste of grain and berries and honey that she had been given by the townsfolk.
Before long, her appetite was satisfied, and she found herself leaning against a tree, drowsy and content. Her hand rubbed slow circles on her exposed middle, the touch soothing the uncomfortable itchy tightness of it. [I can afford a nap. Just a short one.] Erika chuckled softly to herself, letting her head fall back. “Who am I to argue with myself, really?” Her eyes drifted shut, and she relaxed into sleep…
(====) —---
Both heartbeats were so loud now. A strange voice was chanting gleefully to it itself. “Soon, soon, soon, soon…” she could see nothing, only darkness. Her middle ached, and she breathed. “What’s soon?”
“Soon I will come.” The voice said. “I will come. It will be glorious.”
“Do I want to meet you?”
“No. You will suffer my arrival. I will come as you beg me to go away, to leave you alone. The only way I can leave you is by coming though, do you see? I have to come. Soon. So soon.”
She gasped, pressure, pain inside. “I'm scared.”
“Yes. Yes, be scared. It will only get worse. It's almost time. It will get worse and worse and then I will start to come as you scream and sob and I will just keep coming, I won't care that you want me to stop. I want to come, just like that.”
The heartbeats were speeding up. There was so much pressure now, low in her hips, through her back. A kind of cramp was holding her so tightly. Squeezing. “Noooo… I don't like this!”
“Good. I gain strength from you. Let it happen. Let me come, don't try to run. You can't fight me. It's soon, now. Soon. Soon Soon So-”
==(====)----
Erika sat up, gasping, heart slamming in her chest, soaked with sweat. Her middle was cramping badly, but it was easing up as she rubbed it. [Damnit, why have I been overeating so much?] She chided herself. Of course that's where the cramping is coming from.
Looking toward the sky, the monster slayer saw the sun was low in the sky now. “Damnit… I’ll barely make it to town now before it's dark…” she muttered, sullenly.
As she re-packed her bags, another cramp hit, bad enough to make her drape her arms over her horse for support. There was so much pressure, gods, all of it throbbing down, making her legs shake and her breath catch. Erika felt like she… like she…
[I need to use the bathroom. Bad. That’s what this is. I’ve eaten so much, after all.] Ugh, yes, that made perfect sense! The huntress felt so silly for not recognizing that in the first place, it was so obvious.
Catching her breath and pushing herself off the horse, Erika waddled to a nearby tree, tugged off her leggings, panties, and shoes, and squatted deep.
[Good. Relax. Let your body take over.]
Yea. Best to just let nature take its course and-
Her belly clamped down HARD, and the powerful warrior cried out in pain, a surprising amount of slick, surprisingly thick fluid pouring from her opening. “Oh gods… am I poisoned? What is this?!’
[I didn't eat anything strange. This is natural. I just have to listen to my body. I have to let this all happen.]
“Right…” she panted, struggling to stay calm. “Right. I just need to… listen to my instincts… and I can make it through… ha… ha… ngh, f-fuckkk… it hurts, it hurts so bad, I feel like I have to use the bathroom!”
[I am, right? Don't fight it. Let it happen. Give into that urge. Do what feels right.]
Without hesitation, Erika pushed. Her bare toes curled, digging into the forest floor as she bore down, and was rewarded with the feeling of something moving down, something big.
“Holy… shit… what’s h-happening to me?” the monster slayer panted, terror gripping her almost as strong as the abdominal cramping. All she knew was that she needed whatever this was out, gone, away from her. She just needed whatever was hurting her like this to be over.
[It feels like the only way out is through. I have to let whatever this is run its course. Give into it completely.] “Oh gods I don't want to do thissss…” Erika cried, breathing heavy as her hair, soaked with sweat, stuck to her face. “I don't want to do whatever the hell this is, oh gods, oh, OHHHH MNNNNGGGHHH!!!”
Once more a desperate, toes curling effort, and once more the sensation of something huge, something hard and heavy, moving down deep inside her, closer and closer to leaving. As she pushed, however, the monster slayer could feel that it wasn't coming out of her rear. Only barely, everything was stretched massively, but it just felt too far forward.
There was a steady patter of fluid dribbling from Erika’s vagina, she could feel. It couldn't be coming out of there, it had to be something else… her vagina couldn't possibly open up this wide… “I don't want this… I don't want to do this, I’m scared!”
[It’s ok to be scared. Just keep going. Let it come. Let it come out of you, however it needs, even if you hate it.]
The urge to push came again, and the terrified woman immediately succumbed to the urge once more. This time, she felt a terrible pressure behind her vaginal lips. Then an aching, a burn that was spreading as she screamed in agony and effort, fingernails digging into her bare legs.
Of course she couldn't see the horrible beauty her body was creating. Couldn't see that an ugly, green monster baby head was starting to emerge from her swollen, perfect nether lips. Her body had nourished and grown a monster, and she was bringing it into the world against her will, repopulating the creatures she despised.
But of course, the sobbing heroine couldn't see any of that, couldn't even bring herself to reach down and touch the slimy goblin head emerging from between her legs. She only panted, whimpering, confused and scared. “What's happening to me? Am I dying?” She managed wetly.
[No. Not dying. Giving. Creating. I'm making something exist that otherwise wouldn't. Bringing something into the world that wouldn't be here if not for me.]
It almost sounded nice, said like that. But that didn't make the next contraction any less agonizing. Erika let out a deep, guttural grunt of effort, needing this nightmare over with and unable to fight her instincts even if she wanted to. The need to give birth was just too strong, and she succumbed to it utterly, beautifully.
The head moved. Opening her feminine petals from a straining peek of her inhuman rape baby to a teardrop shape, to a wide, torturous O between her thighs.
[So close. So close, a bit more. Let it happen, let it come out, let it be born! Give it the gift of birth, let it come from my body!]
The contraction was relentless. She pushed. The head kept moving.
[Give it the blessing of birth, of existing.]
She pushed, a groaned “Noooooo!” Escaping her.
[Give it birth. Get it out. Let it come.]
“I hate it I hate it I hate itttt!” It's forehead popped out, it's nose and pointed ears.
[It's coming, it's coming, it's coming! I’m helping it to exist, I'm letting this creature into the world!]
The next cramp came. “I don’t want youuuuu!!!” As the heroine pushed, and the whole ugly goblin head gushed out of her in a burst of green-ish, stringy fluid.
[I’m giving birth! I’m giving birth! This is what it feels like to create life!]
“I haaate Thiiisss NNNGGGHHHH GET OUT OF MEEE!!!”
At long last, the monster obeyed. In a slick rush that made Erika collapse back against the tree, her first child came slithering from her most intimate place. She had been a virgin just a few days ago, and now she had successfully given birth against her will.
But to what? Slowly, Erika leaned forward. Looked at the new life she had been forced to grow and give life to.
There weren't even tears. Just shock. Horror. A goblin. Erika had devoted her entire life to fighting, killing, eliminating goblins, and her body had just PRODUCED one. Repopulated their horrible, ugly, evil species.
Slowly, she reached for her sheath. Pulled out her knife she used for emergencies. Gingerly, the violated adventurer tried to find the strength to lift herself. To crawl forward, knife raised, and fulfil.her duty. Now, before it became a problem for someone-
[Who else? How? It’s only a baby. Just… go. Just leave it here. Nature will take care of this, you don't have to deal with the guilt, the shame. Nobody will ever know you’re a monster’s mother. That you helped another goblin come into the world. That your body nurtured, gestated, gave the blessing of life, to a disgusting inhuman abomination. Just… let the forest claim him.]
Taking a deep breath, gritting her teeth, Erika gripped the knife, and brought it slashing down…
The cord connecting reluctant mother and her rape baby was severed in a quick, clean slash. She didn't move until the urge to push came again, and the placenta slid out of her. It, too, was left under the shade of this tree.
Sore, exhausted, eyes wide and haunted with shame and trauma, Erika carefully, gingerly mounted her horse, and let it carry her back into town, leggings, panties, and shoes left behind.
Nobody asked any questions. Recovering was slow, exhausting, and though Erika tried, at times, to tell someone what she’d been through, the words kept failing her, choked with shame and self-disgust. Eventually, her body had healed enough to start helping with normal tasks in this random village in the middle of nowhere.
Ultimately, Erika would never leave. Which meant, not even a year later, she got to see the day another girl came staggering out of the woods after being missing for a few days. Her body showed signs of a rapid, difficult pregnancy, and a traumatic, sudden birth.
In that moment, she knew she had a horrible monster grandbaby. She knew this girl had been raped by her inhuman son, that it was all her fault that another girl had been violated because she had given that abomination life, left it behind.
She would watch many such stories unfold. Eventually the population had grown enough that the goblins descended on the town. The men were all killed, the women allowed to stay in their homes as long as they kept producing more goblin spawn.
Erika had come to this town to eradicate a small goblin camp that had started to worry the townsfolk.
It was entirely her fault that the most powerful, dangerous, vile goblin empire the world would ever know came into being, with the monstrous child she screamed onto the forest floor against her will that fateful afternoon reigning over it for generations.
One of my old fantasies is set in some post-apocalyptic wasteland where human population has dropped suddenly. Maybe I never really planned to have kids before, but suddenly I find myself without a choice as humanity faces extinction. Submitting to my purpose, to breed, my partner begins fucking me bare daily until eventually my periods stop. I'll be kept constantly pregnant from now on, with the future of humanity kicking in my belly.
Another one of my odd concepts; someone who is pregnant with a monster or demon that demands souls as it grows so she has to find ways to steal souls to save her own, regretting fucking whatever put this in her, unaware that the sire wanted to watch her descent from normal person to a corrupted person who sees no problem harvesting souls for its kind.
💕 I love when a monstrous pregnancy doubles as a corruption arc~ Why shouldn't such a deep connection go both ways? An innocent woman becoming just as monstrous as the thing inside her; its development perhaps even accelerated by her descent into depravity.
Okay back to regularly scheduled horny posts. Uhhhhhhh tomboy who only wears graphic T's and flannels gets pregnant and starts only wearing flannels when she outgrows the graphic T's
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I know I'll panic when the belly grows and I can't stop thinking about that I'll have no choice but to give birth if I just let it grow past a certain point. It is so hot and scary.
Pregnant proxy via Slenderman who can’t give birth on a mission because every contraction is met with a blurry static overlay of your vision and feeling in your body. Every urge to push is cancelled, but the baby is increasingly low in your hips in between lapse of consciousness. Only when you finish the kill does the contraction grip your womb and seize. The head dilated completely in the time it took. Kneeling over your victim being forced to push it out here or could you survive denying it long enough back to the forest. Begging him to take away the pain again.
Accidental pregnancies are sooo hot, ESPECIALLY if you don't know you're pregnant until you start to cramp so badly, you feel pressure in your pelvis and before you even have a chance to consider what's going on, you're crowning on a giant babies head. EVEN BETTER IF IT'S MULTIPLES.
Okay, that sounds weird out of context, but hear me out.
Picture a trim, flat midriff. Maybe it has abs or is just flat in a smooth and satisfying plane. Now imagine someone taking a deep breath with their gut. It swells briefly, looking much less trim than before in so short a time. Then, all at once, it returns to its less rotund shape. Over and over, back and forth, it gives way to changing shape in order to fuel one with oxygen and stretch their skin beautifully. Perhaps their breathing is labored from exercise or excitement, a sheen of sweat adding a healthy glow to their body to further enhance that show of belabored inhalations.
A chubby, fat tummy works for this as well! Overstuffed with treats to the point that breathing hurts. What else can one do but help their gut stretch by doing belly breathing, likely with a little massage to aid their aching middle. The glorious rolls of adipose addressed with each rise and fall of their strained belly. It makes just wanna cuddle and pamper the poor thing to listen to their restricted breaths and tend to that turgid swell.
And, of course, pregnancy. When someone's far along with child(ren), their womb presses into their ribcage whilst carrying high. It's difficult to get a full breath, though when they do, that round mass of fertility just rolls with effort. Perhaps they're so full of spawn that even one breath makes their shirt or dress ride unceremoniously to reveal each glorious inch of taut skin. And when their belly drops and they can finally take a decent breath, that extra room is mainly used to aid during labor. Each contraction seeks to shrink their bump as their muscles squeeze down, but their deep breaths counter it by having it surge forth magnificently. Especially if they lean back or lie down, letting that mountainous bump rhythmically move with each respiration unrestricted against gravity's pull.
Friendly reminder that allowing underage littles/pets/daddies/mommies/etc your blog if you post NSFW or kink material can get you up to 10 years in prison and can get you on the sex offenders registry for the rest of your life.
It’s called “corruption of a minor” and “pandering obscenities to a minor” and it’s a third degree felony in the US.
This is exactly why I don’t want any minors following me. Please, I don’t care if you’re 17, 17 and ¾, or anything less then 18. Stay off my blog, don’t follow, and don’t browse my page.
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Fascinated with monster preg where just the snout of some lupine monster is crowning and the rest is stuck. Kicking their legs and screaming and writhing trying to make any further headway
You look wide eyed at the notification on your med watch. You've been picked. You are pregnant. It was insanely lucky that you'd nearly managed to go a few years after graduation without getting chosen. One of your old high school friends got raffled the day after and raffled again the following month. Now it is your turn.
-1st Phase-
History books said that, at one relatively small time, the raffle was met with fury. Each month was a new protest filled with the rapidly impregnated. Now everyone begrudgingly accepted it as a part of life in the chrome future everyone's great great grandparents fantasized about. You press a finger below your navel. It was already firm to the touch and your nipples itched against the fabric of your sleep shirt.
You were automatically cleared from work for the day so there was no need to rush out and do anything. Your objective today was to relax and do your singular task.
You decide to get a shower–a simple anti-bacteria spray down and think about the most important part of this day. The birth. A younger person, without someone to advise them correctly, would think that going to one of the city hospitals would be the safest and best option. But you knew better. There were stories of ambulance c-sections with minimal anesthesia and hospitals practically restraining birthers in unrelenting binds and stirrups. Even in facilities they gave very little time to actually push before they enforced an extraction protocol. Medical staff were trained to be fully optimized toward a healthy delivery for the child. The only good choice was deciding to go it alone.
Upon finishing your shower, you stopped in front of your mirror. A pouch of a belly, big enough to cup beneath your palm has grown on you. You can’t imagine it taking weeks of time just to get a little bump like this. Some books say pregnancy used to take an entire 40 weeks. Thank goodness for optimization.
If you were going to do this in your apartment, you'd need supplies. You put on some sweatpants, a loose T-shirt and head out of your apartment.
The Mag-lev train, one of the best benefits of this present, is packed full with people. The vibe is different than normal. A young couple looking naively excited. A woman with a baby barely a year old idly massaged the base of her belly with an exhausted look in her eyes. This was raffle day.
You procure over the counter grade stim packs only good for minor cuts, antibacterial salves, bandages, a basket big enough to be a bassinet, meal kits to ease your cravings. Hopefully that would be enough, because that is all you can afford. You spend a bit too much time trying to navigate the sparsely stocked and overcrowded baby area and only make it out with a few items of need.
The attendant looks to your midsection. “Won the raffle, huh? Good luck, I heard they've been making some rough ones.”
They send you on your way, but that comment and obvious stare make you look down to your bump.
You see that your shirt has noticeably pushed forward in the hour of shopping. The bump looks bigger than any of the average diagrams you looked at in the past. The band of your sweat pants were already starting to dip below your waist. Time was ticking towards the inevitable.
-2nd phase-
By the time you return to your apartment your belly has become obvious. The shirt is tight against your skin, your sweats require constant adjustment. You look undeniably pregnant.
You rush to get everything you purchased set and ready. Medical supplies in the bathroom, bassinet close by, clean cloth laid and ready. Each passing moment you feel your shirt get a little tighter around your growing breasts and begin to ride a little higher over the large belly you are growing.
If you lingered for too long you could feel it, you could see it. The stretching of your skin, the movements of your baby becoming subtly stronger. You can see a line slowly darkening across your middle and through your ever swallowing belly button.
One moment amidst your preparation you pass a glance at the mirror. The waistband of your sweats has fully dipped below your waistline, cradling the underbelly of your bump. Movement slides beneath your barely visible belly button as you stare wide-eyed at your mirrored image. You look full term and you still have an entire phase left to go.
-3rd Phase-
Walking is impossible. The sheer mass of your belly weighing on your hips has thrown your center of gravity off so much you can barely take a step without needing to brace against a wall. All you can do is lay down and watch your massive belly somehow exceed its limit and read up on the dozens of things that could go wrong. You count yourself lucky that you got everything you needed ready before you got this massive.
A throbbing pain goes through your chest as you watch an archived birth video. Your breasts have become engorged to the point a shirt couldn't contain them and now were just a touch away from leaking. You twist slowly off your bed and arduously waddle to your bathroom using the little furniture you have as handholds to keep balance, the weight of the massive baby sitting in your hips and lean over the sink. With barely a touch your tits start expressing.
Relief happens before you're awed by your own body. Your belly is pointed out into a cone shape with your darkened belly button as its point. The skin of your belly is a map of veins and from your underbelly to your hips you have deep stretchmarks. Before your eyes, you see the weight of your belly shifted down, your ease of breathing returns but in that same instant a large, solid object jams its way into the bowl of your hips.
You moan softly, then it turns into a pained groan. The muscles in your abdomen and back tense. Your knees hinge and one hand springs to the taut surface of your bump.
The first of many contractions takes your body. Not long now.
-The Final Moments-
Your heavy belly heaves as you breathe through a contraction. Your voice is a bellow of pain and fear. The contraction you felt earlier was merely a braxton hicks and your pregnancy was not yet done with you. Another half hour of growing made your belly elongate and droop further beneath your hip line. Your bump looks like it didn't even exist as a part of your body anymore.
The labor pains were as rapid as the pregnancy. The contractions come with such frequency that you can't catch your bearings long enough to check yourself and forcing your fingers into your contracting canal makes you see stars.
Head buried into the crook of your arm, you moan, curse and rock on your knees on the bathroom floor. The pressure mounts deep behind your cervix and you feel a mass pass through its rapidly dilating flesh. A pop of fluid hits your thighs and underbelly. Relief from that pressure is fleeting; the giant baby surges against your cervix without pause.
The next contraction, you bear down. Desperation to get it out already controls your actions. Your belly turns into a different abnormal shape with every push and contraction.
The process was too slow and yet too fast. The contractions start to outpace the time you need to recover from pushing out a baby that barely moved past your cervix. Each one felt like a hand was reaching through you and pulling the baby forcefully from your womb. You sputter and gasp as a contraction forces the massive stone of a head against your cervix. It opens wider and wider, but it's only barely able to compensate for the speed of the labor and size of the baby.
The time between spasms shortens again and again until you feel your canal full and the distinct pressure of your labia beginning to bulge. Between heaving breaths, you reach a hand to your crotch.
The teardrop transformed into a massive “O” shape against your palm within seconds.
Your body doesn't care if it breaks, it only wants the baby out. You keep your palm against the wide crown, head thrown back, hips straining and rotating in an attempt to escape the burn and pressure, the sides of your belly compress into a hot, hardened mass of skin.
A primal moan rumbles from deep within. The skin of your labia opens wide and forward, clinging to the head. You pray you don't tear, you beg your body to be more resilient. You begin to understand why people would beg for the scalpel and a quick end.You rock back into the pressure with a screech as the constant contraction rises to its peak and forces the head out of the grip of your flesh. The shoulders and torso slide out of your now shaking body and into your singular wait palm.
Loud gasps and cries echo from your and your baby. You crawl to the wall of your bathroom, baby in hand, and sit up steady. Your crotch is burning sore and throbbing from the abuse it was put through. The baby wept in your hands as it lay against your chest and swollen belly.
Now all you need to do is wait for the placenta. That is what you think. The next contraction isn't subtle or a firm pressure– it doubles you over.
You cry out, clutching your still rounded bump. A trill of movement shifts against the taut skin below your belly button. A second baby pressed on your cervix. Your body doesn't give you the chance to panic before another contraction hits you and you're brought back to the same cycle. Twins weren't supposed to happen with this system. The government assured it wouldn't happen. The facts don't matter now, this is happening. The invisible grasp that pulled on your first shoved into you to start its efforts again. But this time you feel none of the rapid progress.
You push. Nothing moves. You push again. Nothing. The veins and muscles in your neck strain as you scream. Only the feeling of the bowl of your pelvis opening as wide as it could and letting nothing through follows. Your breath hitches, panic rising in your chest. It should be well into your canal by now, but you can still feel the large child in you. You move a hand to the base of your belly and press. Your eyes go wide and the bathroom echoes with your voice whimpering “no”.
“I heard they've been making some rough ones.” the voice of the clerk rings in your ear.
The baby was sideways across your pelvis. Breech. No matter how hard you pushed or how long you labored, the twin wouldn't move.
You remember one thing from the research you did, one thing doctors used to do a long time ago. You lay your first born down in the heap of towels. With a trembling hand you grasp your belly and baby and force it to turn. Your mouth goes wide, eyes distant and bulging, a contraction flaring against the forceful movement. The muscles in your arms fight against the ones making you give birth. The need to push hasn't waned–it got worse. The small shifts in the baby's position you feel aren't enough to reduce the agony or your exhaustion.
The glint of your medwatch catches your eye. A notification was recommending that you alert the EMS. One hand grips the mass of the twin as you stare at the alert. Sweat and tears burn your eyes as you consider it, as you ponder what brutality the city EMS would do to you. You ignore the notification and get back to your efforts. You resist your most primal urge, muscles strain to fight against the force of your hands; but the baby shifts regardless.
Eventually, you feel a hardness drop against your cervix.
And a bolt of pain goes through your spine. Your body jerks into an arch and your hand shoots to the base of your back. You writhe and spasm at the sudden press against your nerves. The baby rushes so quickly you don't have the chance to stop it like you did before. In the brief moment your fear of tearing enters your mind, you feel the twin open you in more ways than one.
An inhuman scream rips its way out of your throat as you feel the baby's head suddenly feel too easy to pass. Bolts of pain shoot through your crotch just as fast as the baby slides out onto the floor. Your breathy moans are joined quickly by the surprise between your legs.
Your belly looked deflated. It had to be over now.
With what strength you have left, you spray the medkit mending onto your wounded crotch. You can barely muster the energy to pick up the twin you just birthed. The desire to just lay there, breathe a few breaths not strangled by the pain of labor or the weight of two babies against your lungs and hope fervently you wouldn't win the raffle next month.
You look wide eyed at the notification on your med watch. You've been picked. You are pregnant. It was insanely lucky that you'd nearly managed to go a few years after graduation without getting chosen. One of your old high school friends got raffled the day after and raffled again the following month. Now it is your turn.
-1st Phase-
History books said that, at one relatively small time, the raffle was met with fury. Each month was a new protest filled with the rapidly impregnated. Now everyone begrudgingly accepted it as a part of life in the chrome future everyone's great great grandparents fantasized about. You press a finger below your navel. It was already firm to the touch and your nipples itched against the fabric of your sleep shirt.
You were automatically cleared from work for the day so there was no need to rush out and do anything. Your objective today was to relax and do your singular task.
You decide to get a shower–a simple anti-bacteria spray down and think about the most important part of this day. The birth. A younger person, without someone to advise them correctly, would think that going to one of the city hospitals would be the safest and best option. But you knew better. There were stories of ambulance c-sections with minimal anesthesia and hospitals practically restraining birthers in unrelenting binds and stirrups. Even in facilities they gave very little time to actually push before they enforced an extraction protocol. Medical staff were trained to be fully optimized toward a healthy delivery for the child. The only good choice was deciding to go it alone.
Upon finishing your shower, you stopped in front of your mirror. A pouch of a belly, big enough to cup beneath your palm has grown on you. You can’t imagine it taking weeks of time just to get a little bump like this. Some books say pregnancy used to take an entire 40 weeks. Thank goodness for optimization.
If you were going to do this in your apartment, you'd need supplies. You put on some sweatpants, a loose T-shirt and head out of your apartment.
The Mag-lev train, one of the best benefits of this present, is packed full with people. The vibe is different than normal. A young couple looking naively excited. A woman with a baby barely a year old idly massaged the base of her belly with an exhausted look in her eyes. This was raffle day.
You procure over the counter grade stim packs only good for minor cuts, antibacterial salves, bandages, a basket big enough to be a bassinet, meal kits to ease your cravings. Hopefully that would be enough, because that is all you can afford. You spend a bit too much time trying to navigate the sparsely stocked and overcrowded baby area and only make it out with a few items of need.
The attendant looks to your midsection. “Won the raffle, huh? Good luck, I heard they've been making some rough ones.”
They send you on your way, but that comment and obvious stare make you look down to your bump.
You see that your shirt has noticeably pushed forward in the hour of shopping. The bump looks bigger than any of the average diagrams you looked at in the past. The band of your sweat pants were already starting to dip below your waist. Time was ticking towards the inevitable.
-2nd phase-
By the time you return to your apartment your belly has become obvious. The shirt is tight against your skin, your sweats require constant adjustment. You look undeniably pregnant.
You rush to get everything you purchased set and ready. Medical supplies in the bathroom, bassinet close by, clean cloth laid and ready. Each passing moment you feel your shirt get a little tighter around your growing breasts and begin to ride a little higher over the large belly you are growing.
If you lingered for too long you could feel it, you could see it. The stretching of your skin, the movements of your baby becoming subtly stronger. You can see a line slowly darkening across your middle and through your ever swallowing belly button.
One moment amidst your preparation you pass a glance at the mirror. The waistband of your sweats has fully dipped below your waistline, cradling the underbelly of your bump. Movement slides beneath your barely visible belly button as you stare wide-eyed at your mirrored image. You look full term and you still have an entire phase left to go.
-3rd Phase-
Walking is impossible. The sheer mass of your belly weighing on your hips has thrown your center of gravity off so much you can barely take a step without needing to brace against a wall. All you can do is lay down and watch your massive belly somehow exceed its limit and read up on the dozens of things that could go wrong. You count yourself lucky that you got everything you needed ready before you got this massive.
A throbbing pain goes through your chest as you watch an archived birth video. Your breasts have become engorged to the point a shirt couldn't contain them and now were just a touch away from leaking. You twist slowly off your bed and arduously waddle to your bathroom using the little furniture you have as handholds to keep balance, the weight of the massive baby sitting in your hips and lean over the sink. With barely a touch your tits start expressing.
Relief happens before you're awed by your own body. Your belly is pointed out into a cone shape with your darkened belly button as its point. The skin of your belly is a map of veins and from your underbelly to your hips you have deep stretchmarks. Before your eyes, you see the weight of your belly shifted down, your ease of breathing returns but in that same instant a large, solid object jams its way into the bowl of your hips.
You moan softly, then it turns into a pained groan. The muscles in your abdomen and back tense. Your knees hinge and one hand springs to the taut surface of your bump.
The first of many contractions takes your body. Not long now.
-The Final Moments-
Your heavy belly heaves as you breathe through a contraction. Your voice is a bellow of pain and fear. The contraction you felt earlier was merely a braxton hicks and your pregnancy was not yet done with you. Another half hour of growing made your belly elongate and droop further beneath your hip line. Your bump looks like it didn't even exist as a part of your body anymore.
The labor pains were as rapid as the pregnancy. The contractions come with such frequency that you can't catch your bearings long enough to check yourself and forcing your fingers into your contracting canal makes you see stars.
Head buried into the crook of your arm, you moan, curse and rock on your knees on the bathroom floor. The pressure mounts deep behind your cervix and you feel a mass pass through its rapidly dilating flesh. A pop of fluid hits your thighs and underbelly. Relief from that pressure is fleeting; the giant baby surges against your cervix without pause.
The next contraction, you bear down. Desperation to get it out already controls your actions. Your belly turns into a different abnormal shape with every push and contraction.
The process was too slow and yet too fast. The contractions start to outpace the time you need to recover from pushing out a baby that barely moved past your cervix. Each one felt like a hand was reaching through you and pulling the baby forcefully from your womb. You sputter and gasp as a contraction forces the massive stone of a head against your cervix. It opens wider and wider, but it's only barely able to compensate for the speed of the labor and size of the baby.
The time between spasms shortens again and again until you feel your canal full and the distinct pressure of your labia beginning to bulge. Between heaving breaths, you reach a hand to your crotch.
The teardrop transformed into a massive “O” shape against your palm within seconds.
Your body doesn't care if it breaks, it only wants the baby out. You keep your palm against the wide crown, head thrown back, hips straining and rotating in an attempt to escape the burn and pressure, the sides of your belly compress into a hot, hardened mass of skin.
A primal moan rumbles from deep within. The skin of your labia opens wide and forward, clinging to the head. You pray you don't tear, you beg your body to be more resilient. You begin to understand why people would beg for the scalpel and a quick end.You rock back into the pressure with a screech as the constant contraction rises to its peak and forces the head out of the grip of your flesh. The shoulders and torso slide out of your now shaking body and into your singular wait palm.
Loud gasps and cries echo from your and your baby. You crawl to the wall of your bathroom, baby in hand, and sit up steady. Your crotch is burning sore and throbbing from the abuse it was put through. The baby wept in your hands as it lay against your chest and swollen belly.
Now all you need to do is wait for the placenta. That is what you think. The next contraction isn't subtle or a firm pressure– it doubles you over.
You cry out, clutching your still rounded bump. A trill of movement shifts against the taut skin below your belly button. A second baby pressed on your cervix. Your body doesn't give you the chance to panic before another contraction hits you and you're brought back to the same cycle. Twins weren't supposed to happen with this system. The government assured it wouldn't happen. The facts don't matter now, this is happening. The invisible grasp that pulled on your first shoved into you to start its efforts again. But this time you feel none of the rapid progress.
You push. Nothing moves. You push again. Nothing. The veins and muscles in your neck strain as you scream. Only the feeling of the bowl of your pelvis opening as wide as it could and letting nothing through follows. Your breath hitches, panic rising in your chest. It should be well into your canal by now, but you can still feel the large child in you. You move a hand to the base of your belly and press. Your eyes go wide and the bathroom echoes with your voice whimpering “no”.
“I heard they've been making some rough ones.” the voice of the clerk rings in your ear.
The baby was sideways across your pelvis. Breech. No matter how hard you pushed or how long you labored, the twin wouldn't move.
You remember one thing from the research you did, one thing doctors used to do a long time ago. You lay your first born down in the heap of towels. With a trembling hand you grasp your belly and baby and force it to turn. Your mouth goes wide, eyes distant and bulging, a contraction flaring against the forceful movement. The muscles in your arms fight against the ones making you give birth. The need to push hasn't waned–it got worse. The small shifts in the baby's position you feel aren't enough to reduce the agony or your exhaustion.
The glint of your medwatch catches your eye. A notification was recommending that you alert the EMS. One hand grips the mass of the twin as you stare at the alert. Sweat and tears burn your eyes as you consider it, as you ponder what brutality the city EMS would do to you. You ignore the notification and get back to your efforts. You resist your most primal urge, muscles strain to fight against the force of your hands; but the baby shifts regardless.
Eventually, you feel a hardness drop against your cervix.
And a bolt of pain goes through your spine. Your body jerks into an arch and your hand shoots to the base of your back. You writhe and spasm at the sudden press against your nerves. The baby rushes so quickly you don't have the chance to stop it like you did before. In the brief moment your fear of tearing enters your mind, you feel the twin open you in more ways than one.
An inhuman scream rips its way out of your throat as you feel the baby's head suddenly feel too easy to pass. Bolts of pain shoot through your crotch just as fast as the baby slides out onto the floor. Your breathy moans are joined quickly by the surprise between your legs.
Your belly looked deflated. It had to be over now.
With what strength you have left, you spray the medkit mending onto your wounded crotch. You can barely muster the energy to pick up the twin you just birthed. The desire to just lay there, breathe a few breaths not strangled by the pain of labor or the weight of two babies against your lungs and hope fervently you wouldn't win the raffle next month.
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i’m a big fan of rapid pregnancy that isn’t too rapid, yknow? it happens over the course of a week, maybe. you think you’re just bloated at first. then, damn, i really need to cut back on the carbs. then it gets worrying. then you’re so big, and you keep feeling something massive shift around inside you, and it becomes unmistakable. but before that doctor’s appointment can come, your water is breaking and you’re pushing something out a week after you first had symptoms.
Really looking forward to Alien Isolation 2 creating more teratophiliacs and inspiring more people to make xenomorph smut. Preferably depicting alien ovipositors and egg implantation please.
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