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Womb
It started subtly—an ache in Daniel’s lower abdomen that pulsed with his breath. He figured it was a pulled muscle or maybe a lingering stomach bug. But as days passed, the pain deepened, growing into something stranger, something alive.
There were nights when he swore he could feel movement—not gas or digestion, but a subtle shifting, like something within him was rearranging his insides. And then, his hips began to ache. Not from strain, but from pressure, from change. Slowly, over a week, they'd widened, expanding just enough that his jeans no longer fit right. The waistband dug in cruelly. His gait shifted. His center of gravity felt... different.
He tried to ignore it. The doctors had no answers. But Daniel knew—his body was no longer his own.
Inside, the transformation was meticulous. His prostate withered slightly to make space, while new tissue budded quietly behind his bladder. Ligaments thickened in his pelvis, weaving themselves like anchors, and from this scaffolding, new organs took form. A pair of ovaries nestled into place first, like small, almond-shaped secrets pulsing with dormant potential. A uterus followed—soft and hollow, its lining rich and vascular, eager to begin its unknown purpose.
He felt it all. The cramps. The odd tightness behind his navel. The rushes of warmth as hormonal tides flooded his blood—estrogen mingling with testosterone in unfamiliar harmony. One morning he woke up sobbing over a commercial for dog food. Another night, he was so aroused he cried.
But it was the bleeding that undid him.
It started with a deep, stabbing cramp low in his pelvis. His skin was clammy. His breath came short. Then came the pressure—tight and strange—and then warmth. He stumbled to the bathroom and froze. The front of his boxers were soaked in blood.
Not from his rectum. Not from an injury. It came through his male urethra, like his body had forged an unnatural compromise. There was no explanation. No guide. Just Daniel, bent over the sink, shaking, as something female declared its presence inside him.
The bleeding lasted five days. He kept to himself. Wrapped in a blanket. Snacking on chocolate and biting down against cramps that felt like claws inside him. He didn’t know if he was dying or evolving.
When it ended, he felt empty—but not broken. Changed, yes. Softened in places, but also made stronger in others.
And then came Jason.
Tall. Charismatic. The kind of man Daniel had always admired from afar. Their chemistry had always crackled at work, and after a long week, they finally collided—Jason’s lips against his, heat blooming between them. The sex was transcendent. Jason's body pressed into him, held him, filled him—and something in Daniel opened. He could feel it: a fluttering deep inside, the kind of pleasure he’d never known. A need that echoed in a chamber that hadn’t existed just months ago.
Weeks later, the nausea returned. He was moody. Tired. His body felt sore. Then one morning, he vomited into the sink, tears in his eyes, heart pounding.
The doctor ran bloodwork. Then an ultrasound.
Daniel stared at the screen, mouth parted, barely breathing. A black-and-white swirl. A shape. A pulse.
“You’re pregnant,” the doctor said gently. “About six weeks along.”
His vision blurred. His body began to shake. He left the clinic in silence, unsure if he was spiraling into madness.
Telling Jason was the hardest thing he’d ever done. But the man didn’t run. He didn’t laugh. He just sat beside Daniel, took his hand, and whispered, “Then we’re in this together.”
There were still questions. There would always be questions. But Daniel had stopped looking for answers.
He had ovaries. A uterus. A womb.
He had life inside him.
And for the first time in months, he wasn’t afraid.
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The exhaustion had been creeping in for weeks, a leaden weight that no amount of sleep seemed to lift. Mark, usually energetic and active, found himself winded after a short flight of stairs. He chalked it up to stress at work, the long hours and looming deadlines. But then came the nausea, a queasy unease that blossomed into full-blown morning sickness, despite the fact that it was always mid-afternoon when it struck.
He finally confided in his partner, David, who listened with a furrowed brow. "Maybe you've got a bug?" David suggested, concern etched on his face.
Mark hoped so, but a deep, unsettling feeling churned within him. It wasn't just the sickness; there was a subtle shift happening in his body. His jeans felt snugger around his waist, a gentle curve beginning to form where his stomach used to be flat. He dismissed it as weight gain, stress eating, anything but the impossible thought that flickered at the edge of his awareness.
One evening, while David was out, Mark found himself staring at his reflection. He lifted his shirt, and the slight protrusion was undeniably more pronounced. A wave of dizziness washed over him as the unthinkable became a terrifying possibility. Could it be? Could he, a man, be pregnant?
He frantically searched online, his fingers flying across the keyboard. The results were a bewildering mix of science fiction tropes and fringe theories. Yet, amidst the noise, he found a few obscure articles discussing rare biological anomalies, genetic mutations that could lead to such a phenomenon. The more he read, the more the impossible began to feel chillingly real.
Over the next few weeks, the changes accelerated. The fatigue intensified, his appetite became erratic, and the curve of his abdomen grew steadily rounder. He tried to hide it, wearing baggy clothes and avoiding situations where his changing physique might be noticed. But the secret weighed heavily on him, a growing presence both inside and out.
One morning, he woke up with a strange fluttering sensation in his lower abdomen. It was subtle at first, like a butterfly's wing brushing against his skin, but it grew stronger, more insistent. Tears welled in his eyes as understanding dawned. Life was growing inside him.
Fear warred with a burgeoning sense of wonder. How had this happened? What would it mean for his life, his relationship? He knew he couldn't keep it a secret forever. The next step, he realized, was telling David. The thought filled him with both dread and a fragile sliver of hope. He wasn't just changing; his whole world was about to.
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Edward hadn’t even learned the stranger’s last name.
They met at a bar—mysterious eyes, commanding presence, a silky voice that wrapped around Edward like a spell. One thing led to another, and they spent the night tangled in sheets, the stranger murmuring strange, beautiful phrases into Edward’s ear as they climaxed - as the wizard's seed erupted within him, warm and plentiful.
But the next morning, Edward woke up to pain. And swelling. And something moving.
Now, he stood in front of the mirror, shirtless, his once-toned torso stretched around a firm, massive belly. He gasped, hands flying to the tight orb, skin impossibly taut.
“Oh god,” he whispered. “What the hell is happening to me?”
The man from last night appeared behind him in the mirror, as if summoned by the question. Cloaked now in dark robes, no longer hiding the glow behind his eyes.
“I didn’t tell you who I was,” the wizard said calmly. “But you were perfect. Strong. Pure of heart. The vessel I needed.”
Edward turned, horrified. “Vessel? You did this to me?”
“I gave you the honor of carrying my heir,” the wizard said. “The pregnancy needed to move quickly. Magic doesn’t wait for nine months.”
Edward stumbled back, clutching his belly as something kicked from the inside—hard. His legs buckled.
“I don’t want this!” he cried.
“But it’s already begun,” the wizard said gently. “And he’s nearly ready.”
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He never signed up for this. Not really. Not willingly.
The clipboard had been shoved into his hands during intake, the jargon too dense to make sense of, the fine print deliberately microscopic. A study. A population crisis. Volunteer compensation. Hormonal realignment. But what they meant—what they did—was far darker.
They grew a womb inside him.
A uterus, ovaries, a fully functional reproductive system. Not just surgically placed—grown. Synthesized. Engineered to mesh with his male anatomy and override it. There was no surgery scar, just the ghost of pain… and then a new kind of aching.
The adjustment was brutal. He could feel it inside—like roots spreading through soil, except the soil was his body, his identity. Something deep in his gut cramped and twisted. He couldn’t keep food down some days. On others, he wept for no reason. At night, he would lie curled in the fetal position, hands on his stomach, crying softly as heat bloomed behind his belly button.
Then came the first period. It destroyed him. Blood. Cramping. Hormonal overload. Still fully male—flat chest, strong jaw, scruffy stubble—but everything inside screamed female. That contradiction tore at him. Shamed him. Shattered him.
And that was when the thoughts started.
He would see men—walking past him, talking, stretching—and feel something in his new organs yearn. Not in the way he used to. It wasn’t lust. It was need. A hollow ache inside his core. An urge to be filled, bred, claimed. He loathed it. But he wanted it.
And then it happened. Impregnation.
The scientists called it a success. But he could barely look at himself in the mirror. His lower belly swelled, round and taut. Fat crept onto his frame—softening his waist, widening his hips. His ass inflated, pushing against the seams of his joggers. He wept the day his body hair began receding, vanishing from his chest and thighs. “Temporarily estrogen-dominant,” they said. “It’ll grow back after delivery.” But it felt permanent. Like he was fading.
The only one who stayed by his side was the man who betrayed him.
Evan.
His closest friend. The one who'd convinced him to sign the form. “It’ll be good money,” Evan had said. “You’ll help people.”
He found out later—Evan knew. Evan had been part of the Program for months. He was already a donor. The father. His father.
When he found out, he screamed at Evan. Threw a plate. Collapsed into tears. Evan just held him.
And strangely, that’s when the shift began. He started craving Evan’s scent. Leaning into his touch. Waking up thinking of Evan’s smile. It disgusted him—how much he wanted his betrayer. How his body flushed when Evan laid a hand on his swollen stomach, whispering, “You’re doing so good.”
Maybe it was the hormones. Maybe it was the loneliness. Maybe… it was love.
He didn’t know anymore. All he knew was this: something was growing inside him. Something he never wanted. And yet…
…he was starting to believe it might be the most meaningful thing he’d ever carry.
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Dylan was so eager to get into the gym in a couple of weeks, mainly to get his tight abs and muscular thighs back. He wasn't too sure if his newly bloated milk-filled pecs would shrink down because of his need to feed his baby, but he was willing to see if he could minimise his need to wear bras.
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It was school finals time and Jeremy’s parents had put a lot of pressure on him throughout the year to succeed and do well. So it was no surprise that he cracked and let loose…really loose at a party earlier in the year. He had somehow managed his way into a threesome, drunk and a bit stoned, and was pretty proud of himself. He barely even realised that his mate was fucking him, at least until the next morning when his cock was still in him and it was just the two of them. They quickly realised what had happened, decided on a round two and then swore never to speak of it again.
That became increasingly difficult though, as Jeremy became clearly bigger, and a few months later could no longer deny he was pregnant.
He didn’t know how he had managed to do it, but he had hid it well from his family. A lot of loose clothing helped.
Jeremy made it, and there wasn’t much more to do and he knew he’d pass. But the stress wasn’t all that was getting to him, as mid test he realised he was in labor and giving birth.
The exam room was clearing out…which was good, but Jeremy was struggling to hold it, this baby had to come out. He crossed his legs, he moved positions, but finally her let out the deepest guttural moan as he held his breath and pushed. The exam teacher quickly realised what was going on and managed to rally with enough time to get Jeremy’s pants off and help the baby out.
Now just to explain this to his parents…
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