moaningthroughthepain

[moaningthroughthepain]

kidnapping a girl and breeding her pussy over and over again, turning her into your little basement sex slave 🖤 watching her naked body swell up as the months pass, groping her all over, feeling the changes you've forced her to go through. the soft, leaky breasts, the rounding belly, the swollen pussy. watching her get bigger, heavier, less mobile, harder to breathe 🖤 you dont even need to keep her chained to the wall anymore. but you like seeing her restrained, pregnant, pathetic. completely helpless. so easy for you to mount and keep fucking 🖤 soon she'll be going into labour, and you'll get to kiss her, comfort her, listen to her scream and cry in agony as your rape baby tears its way out of her. you can keep molesting her body while she goes through a painful, traumatic birth. you can do whatever you want to her. she's yours 🖤

[moaningthroughthepain]

Ooh love the idea of a part 2 of the demon one, now for the spawn he planted in you. 🥵

Part 2 of spawning for a demon. 😈

I’ve had an agonizing pregnancy, heavy with demon spawn that burn me from the inside out, clawed hands and horn buds scraping my womb as I progress. But I’m about to experience the best part.

I’m on my hands and knees while another contraction rips through my naked body, my cervix fully dilated and my cunt and thighs slick with my broken waters—and my own cum. I’ve climaxed five or six times already, just jerking my tdick off and feeling the first of his young so low in my hips.

The urge to push courses through me, but I’ve been panting and moaning and holding back for an hour. I thought he would be here. I thought he would help me whelp his spawn again. Our spawn. The ones I just spent nine months growing for him. There’s been no sign of—

I’m yanked roughly from behind and a pronged dick is buried deep in my cunt, hot and thick. I scream and cum immediately, I’ve waited for this.

He is here.

“I need to push,” I moan.

He doesn’t let me. He has his way with me, pounding my hole for twenty minutes, thirty, more, without ceasing. Contractions strain my stomach and his spawn strain in my womb, eager to be birthed out of me onto the bed they were conceived on.

“I need to whelp!” I scream. “Please! I have to whelp!”

He moans—the first sound I’ve heard from him—and cums inside me, burning my womb with his seed. I’m still reeling from the heat when he pulls out and the head of his first spawn slips into my birth canal.

I push on my hands and knees.

The horn buds on the head quickly bruise me as our first spawn thrashes. I scream and push again, and it’s already at my lips. It’s happening too fast.

The burn of the crown is deep, and hot, and primal. The horn buds are caught inside me as I strain to push out the head.

“It’s stuck,” I gasp.

He plunges three clawed fingers into me between its head and my lips, and pulls. He looses the horn buds and leaves me struggling at a full crown, his fingers adding girth to the already agonizing stretch. I whimper but he doesn’t withdraw. I push uselessly, painfully, screaming as I bear down.

“Please let me whelp,” I moan. “I need it, I need to whelp, I need to fucking whelp!”

He rips our first born spawn out of me. I hear it hit the bed between my knees and feel the umbilical cord slap against one of my legs. I collapse on my side, crying. I raise my head to look at our spawn, deep red and steaming. He places it on my chest and lifts my leg up and back, bracing me for the next whelping.

I push on my side, my burning belly resting on the bed and our unnaturally hot spawn scorching my chest. Its umbilical cord trails in a hot line down my belly to where it snakes out of my cunt.

Panting and heaving, no gravity to help me as I lay on my side. My demon does not move to help me whelp the second. I cry and push, and push. The burn of the crown grips me and I get no help with the horn buds this time. Finally one horn bud releases, then the other, and the head shoots out of me. I pant as the second spawn rotates and then whelp it out on the next push.

My belly doesn’t feel any smaller than when I was laboring.

He makes me hold both burning-hot spawn against my chest while I whelp the third one, pushing its way past two umbilical cords and my ruined lips to whelp out of me as I scream.

I lose track at that point. I’m overheated, trying to hold so many spawn while I struggle to whelp the next. And the next. And the next. I’m lost in a haze of pain and heat.

Maybe I lose consciousness, or maybe I was just so lost in pushing and straining. But finally the urge to whelp fades, and I become aware again. My demon is wrapping the myriad umbilical cords around his wrist, then he yanks and detaches the placenta inside me. I want to scream—it hurts—but I’m too weak. He hauls the afterbirth out of me without waiting for more contractions. As the last sign of my pregnancy exits my cunt, my belly finally cools and I weep in relief.

But he lifts up my hips and slams his cock into me just in time for him to cum deep inside my wrecked womb. His burning seed fills me once more.

And I realize he’s rewarding me a second time for bringing his army into the mortal world. He’s going to keep rewarding me, on a permanent nine-month schedule, until my body gives out after many years of hard whelpings.

[moaningthroughthepain]

Madame de Montespan Birthing in Secret - Part 2/2

This story is set in the palace of Versailles, under the reign of Louis XIV, and is about the pregnant story of one of her mistresses: Madame de Montespan. It doesn't pretend to be historically accurate at any point.

If you like this scenario, I recommend you check out the Dropster story At the King's Pleasure. The 2015 series Versailles also played an important role in etching these courtly pregnancies into many of our minds.

Feel free to write any related or follow-up story with vanilla pregnancies. I’ll sure enjoy them.

__________________________________

Madame de Montespan gets out of the king's bed not long after they ended having sex. Usually, she feels kind of dirty every time the king asks her to leave his bed for the night. At that moment she gets fully aware that she is mainly a sexual toy for the king. But today, she feels relieved to be able to get to her chambers as quickly as possible. She is walking through the dark corridors, holding a candle up in front of herself when she feels a cramp in her belly.

“Ah…” Her free hand goes immediately to her lower belly. “Fuck!” She whispers, as she realizes that the child in her wants to go out as soon as possible.

She is fully aware that she still has some time to labor before the things get serious, so she goes to her chambers and lies on the bed to take some rest. During the night she is able to sleep even though being interrupted by about ten more contractions. 

Soon after the sun rises, Jacqueline knocks on her door as usual. She brings with her a bowl full of hot and soapy water to help Madame de Montespan get clean. 

“Jacqueline, come in.” Once the girl gets in and closes the door behind her, Madame de Montespan lets her know about her present situation. “Jacqueline, I think today’s the day. I’ve been having contractions since yesterday’s evening, just a few, but they keep coming regularly.”

“You’ve been… Alright. Do you need anything? What do you want me to do?”

“For now, let’s follow a normal routine. Help me get ready.”

Jacqueline helps Madame de Montespan get out of bed and get naked. She notices that her belly has changed, it’s no longer round, it now has a pear shape. With a sponge soaked in the warm water, Jacqueline rubs all the lady’s body. She cleans her arms, neck, back, boobs and, when she is rubbing her belly she notices it gets tight.

“Ouch. Another one. Mmmmmmh… Hof… Hof…” With her own hands as well as with Jacqueline’s hands around her belly, Madame de Montespan bends slightly over and moves her hips until the pain ends. “They are getting closer together, I had the last one about fifteen minutes ago.”

Jacqueline keeps rubbing her belly for a while and then passes quickly over her pussy before going to her legs. Once the lady is fully clean, she starts helping her get dressed. They start with the white full body underwear, just like the one in which she visited the king last light. Then a special corset for pregnant women, smaller than the normal ones as it doesn’t have to squeeze the belly, just enhance the boobs. Over all these clothes goes a beautiful olive green dress with gold stitches. It fits tight on her chest and clearly shows the top shape of her pregnant belly but gets loose as it falls to her feet. Jacqueline also styles the lady’s hair, finishing it with a beautiful tiara with a handful of pearls. 

When Madame de Montespan sits to get a pair of long boots on, she feels another contraction. “Mmmmmmmh… Mmmmmmmmh… Oh good. Mmmmaah… They are getting stronger.”

“Don’t you worry Madame, you still have a long way to go. There’s enough time to get to the cabin. Meanwhile, what would you like to do, maybe go to the main rooms?” Jacqueline says as she works with the boots.

“Of course not! If I show signs of labor in public, I will be taken by the guards. We should spend some more time here and once the pains get closer together, we’ll pretend that we want to go out to the gardens. That will be my excuse for the king, that I gave birth unexpectedly in the forest, fortunately with you by my side.”

Both women wait at Madame de Montespan’s chamber playing some popular card games, without betting any money, just to kill some time. Madame de Montespan gets hit by the labor pains regularly. After about two hours, her pains are about five minutes apart.

“They are getting closer. We should leave now.” Jacqueline says.

“Do you think so? We can’t spend much time in the forest, the king might send someone to fetch me.”

“Well, to be sure, I can check how open you are, If you don’t mind it Madame. I’ve done it once before to my mother.”

“Sure. It’s better to know… Do I have to lay on the bed?”

“No Madame, just move a bit to the end of the chair and spread your legs.”

“Just like this?” Madame de Montespan asks once she is positioned with her legs as far apart as the chair’s armrests allow her to do. “Don’t you need me to get undressed?”

“Well Madame, It will be easier that way, but that would take too much time. In order to do it faster, I can make a hole in your underwear.” Jacqueline says holding a small knife. She then makes a cut wide enough to let her hand pass through and leaves the knife on the floor. “Now breathe, it might be quite uncomfortable.” With one hand holding Madame de Montespan’s dress above her pregnant belly she began to insert two fingers in her pussy. “Good Madame, it seems you are about six centimeters dilated, we’d better leave now.”

The walk to the cabin proved harder than Madame de Montespan had expected. Just before getting out of the palace, both women must go down the main stairs. With each step downwards, she feels the full weight of her unborn child pressing down. Then, at the garden, she was hit by another contraction. Having no place to support herself, and being surrounded by some couples, she grabs Jaqueline’s hand firmly as it was the only way to get distracted from the pain and prevent making any labouring moans. 

They get as quickly as possible out of the gardens and into the forest. Now, without anybody in sight, Madame de Montespan’s steps became slower. She keeps walking, focused on getting to the cabin. However, she is less worried about showing clear signs of labor. Now her legs are a bit spread, she keeps both hands on her belly and her posture is hunched. Some sweat drops are clearly visible in her forehead and her breath is becoming louder. 

As she feels another contraction building up, she turns those loud breaths into moans and quickly changes the direction of her steps to reach for the nearest tree. With both hands on the tree, she goes down to a half squat and moves her hips from side to side.

“Mmmmmmmhhh…. hof, hof… ” Once the contraction is over, she stands up again and starts walking again. “Jacqueline, would you please go ahead and start lighting up a fire and getting the place ready?”

“And leave you alone Madame? Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’ll be alright. These pains are coming stronger and faster, but there is still time for the birth to really begin. So it makes no sense for you to keep my path when you could be doing necessary tasks.” Jacqueline’s face clearly showed her concern so she added “I should arrive there in twenty minutes, half an hour at most, depending on the contractions. If I’m not there by then, all you have to do is get back and search for me in this direction, I won’t be far.”

Jacqueline, despite still having some concerns, leaves Madame de Montespan at her labouring path. The feeling of the baby’s head at the top of her pelvis is now constant, feeling like a heavy cannonball trying to make its way out. On her way to the cabin, she endures five more contractions. Each of them forcing her to stop. To face the pain, she gets her back supported against a tree, lowers herself down a bit as she opens her legs wide apart. With both hands on her belly, she is able to feel its tightness. 

Despite all the pain and the effort, clearly evident in the sweat covering all her face and neck, she feels confident to reach her destination because she hasn’t yet felt the urge to bear down and push. So, she keeps her slow but steady path. Not long after the fifth contraction while being alone, she is able to see the cabin right in front of her with a bit of smoke coming out its little chimney. Relieved to be here at last, Madame de Montespan goes out of the shades of the forest to end this exhausting walk. 

Once she has already done about ten steps over the sunny wild grass, she feels another pain. This contraction hits faster and harder than she was expecting and makes her fall to her knees.

“AAAH… JACQUELINE!” She screams. As the pain keeps increasing, she puts her hands to the grown and firmly grabs some of the plants. 

Jacqueline quickly comes out of the cabin and, after seeing Madame de Montespan on her hands and knees right in front of it, rushes to help her stand up and get in. 

“AAAH… Just a moment… HAAH… Oh… Hof…” Madame de Montespan takes some time to rest on the ground once the contraction is over and then gets back up again and follows Jacqueline into the cabin.

Once into the cabin, Madame de Montespan is able to see Jacqueline’s work. The small room is much more clean, the bed has white sheets and a couple of pillows and over the table there are some folded towels, a couple of knives and a pair of scissors. At the fireplace there’s a small pot with boiling water and next to it a bigger one full of fresh water. The wall with the tools looks pretty much the same, but the general appearance is clearly better. 

“You did a great job here” Madame de Montespan confesses. “Now it’s more cozy. Please, help me take this off. I’m very hot in this dress.”

“Sure Madame, shall I start with the boots?”

“Hmmm… Yes, sure.” She answers, realizing a rug covering part of the floor. 

As Jacqueline pulls off her boots, she takes her tiara off and leaves it over the table. Then, she takes one of the towels to wipe off the seat covering all her face. 

Madame de Montespan is laying on her side and breathing heavily. Even though she only wears a white loose full body underwear, she is sweating. Her hair sticks to her cheeks and her breasts are more visible through the wet clothes. With one hand under her head and the other rubbing her bump, her sight is lost in the sunbeams coming in from between some of the wooden boards. Together with the fire, they provide the main light source inside the cabin.

As another pain comes, she moves to a sitting position at the edge of the bed. Jacqueline kneels in front of her and places her both hands over her belly. “Oooooh… oooooooooh…” Madame de Montespan groans while moving her upper body back and forth. Jacqueline can feel how the contraction makes her belly get tight around the solid shape of the unborn child.

Now the contractions are coming really close together, Madame de Montespan endures a couple more of them in the following five minutes. The labour is becoming so intense that she needs to get rid of the light underwear she is wearing. 

“Aahh… need this off. Aahhh… now” She says as she undresses her upper body. 

“Sure Madame, you’ll need to get up”

She stands and supports herself on the table while Jacqueline helps her get the dress down her legs until she is fully naked. Jacqueline could now see how imminent the birth is. Madame de Montespan is standing, with both hands on the table’s edge. Because of the pain and discomfort of having a baby resting deep between her pelvis, her legs remain quite spread and bent. Her belly, once perfectly round, now has clearly dropped, and it’s almost flat for half a palm under her breasts.

Another contraction hits as she is still standing.

“Aaaaaahhh….. Aaaaaaaaahhhhh……  OOOOOOHHHH…. FUUUUCK!!!” A splash of water comes from between her legs. She feels the baby suddenly being pushed downwards. “AAAAAAHHH…. My waters. OOOHHH GOOOD It’s coming now!”

“Alright Madame, sit again on the bed, I’ll check you, everything is alright”

“AAAAAAAHHH… Need to push! UNNNNNNGGGGGGHHH…” She follows the unstoppable need to bear down and push while the contraction doesn't fade away. In this first push she feels the baby’s head force its way deeper between her pelvis.

Jacqueline pays no attention to Madame de Montespan’s screams and, while she is giving the first push, she drives two fingers in her just to find that the lady is not only fully dilated but also the baby is beginning its path through the birthing canal. “Alright Madame, this baby is coming now. Are you comfortable in this position?”

“Ooohhh… hooofff…. hooooffff… I’ll stay like this for now” Soon another contraction comes. She grabs firmly the bedsheets near her spread thighs and pushes screaming in pain. “AAAAAGGGGGGGHHHH…. AAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH…..” 

“Push Madame! Push!” Jacqueline encourages her while rubbing a towel all over her to dry out the sweat. 

After about half an hour of constant and agonizingly painful pushes Madame de Montespan’s pussy began to bulge in the shape of the baby’s head. She is still sitting at the edge of the bed but now, as she is getting exhausted, lets all her body fall back to rest between contractions. With one arm over her eyes, she moves her other hand from her belly to the burning spot her pussy is turning into. She feels it.

A waterfall of ideas quickly crosses her mind immediately after her hand felt the head just behind her pussy lips. A portrait of her last and only husband, a portrait of the king, herself on a birthing chair with her second son’s head hanging out of her, again a portrait of the king, the queen birthing in agony and another portrait of the king. All these apparently nonsense ideas just followed the evident conclusion, the head is huge, there is no other way to describe it. 

“OOHHH Lord! What have I done!” Of course, this child has bourbon blood so it also has the big eggy bourbon head. She hadn't thought about it even though the signs were evident.

“Come on Madame, I can see the head of the baby!” Jacqueline says, thinking that Madame de Montespan’s words were just a result of her.

“I can’t! It’s too big! It won’t come out! AAAAAHHHH….  UNNNNGGHHHH….” Another contraction hits her, and she gives another push, as her body is telling her to do.

“Alright Madame, It won’t be easy, but you can do It. We’ll just go little by little. And I think you should change your position.”

Madame de Montespan agrees without words, only by lifting her arms for Jacqueline to help her stand. Then she gently kneels on the floor before the bed, letting her head and chest rest again. Jacqueline, with one hand under her, feeling her belly, notices it getting hard once again.

“Now push Madame! Push!” She says while driving her other hand to the opening pussy.

“AAAAAAAHHHHHHH….  NNNGGGGGGGHHHHHH……” Madame de Montespan pushes in this kind of hands and knees position, with her arms extended over the bed to firmly grab the farthest possible piece of bedsheets. In this position, the baby seems to move a little bit faster. With each push, the black shape between her lips grows a bit more. However, once the contraction is over, more than half of the progress is erased by the fighting tightness of her birth canal walls.

“You are doing so well Madame! Some more pushes and the head will be fully born.”

Desperate for this torture to be over, Madame de Montespan gives the strongest pushes to the point in the following contractions. Jacqueline helps her stretch between contractions, trying to speed up the birth, but this turns out to be essential once the head comes to a full crown. Jacqueline is surprised by its size, and thanks good for having given her the idea of doing that finger job in Madame de Montespan’s pussy. In other case, she would have had a serious tear.

Madame de Montespan doesn't consider herself that lucky though. She is feeling the ring of fire like she has never done before as her pussy is stretched to its limit.

“AAAAAAAAHHHHH… AAAAAAAAAAAHHHH….  UUNNNNGGGGGHHH… AAAAaahhhh…  aahhhhh…  YEESS!” After a final push the baby’s head is fully born, and she gets some relief as her lips come a little close together around the baby’s neck.

“Great Madame! It’s almost done now! Just move your knees together and your feet far apart and this baby will be born in the next push.”

She does as Jacqueline says, feeling with her tights the massive head hanging from her. As the following contraction comes, she pushes. Fortunately, the head turns out to be the biggest part of the baby. So with this final push the shoulders come out, followed by the rest of the baby, and Jacqueline catches it.

“Oh! It’s a beautiful baby girl!”

Madame de Montespan moves to a sitting position on the floor, moving one of her trembling legs over the newborn. Then she catches the baby. Although she has just gone through the most intense feelings of her life, her mind still works fast, knowing this is not over yet.

“We must leave now Jacqueline. We can’t wait for the afterbirth to come.”

“No Madame. Why? You must rest!”

“It can’t be discovered that I gave birth here. It must look like an accident. Like we two were walking in the forest when suddenly I fell and my water broke, or something like this. Otherwise, I could be arrested for disobeying his majesty's orders. So now, help me get dressed.”

With the umbilical cord still connecting her to the baby girl, she puts the white underwear and her dress back on. She keeps both clothes and the pair of boots united. They also change the towel wrapping the newborn for Jacqueline’s coat before putting out the fire.

Once they leave the cabin, they start walking towards the palace. Madame de Montespan’s steps are short but steady, as she is determined to leave that place far behind. She is supported by Jacqueline. Both women walk for about twenty minutes before Madame de Montespan feels the afterbirth beginning to come out.

“Wait Jacqueline! Grab her.” She passes the baby to her. Then, she drives one hand under her dress and her other hand at Jacqueline’s shoulder for support. “NNNGGHHaahh….” She gives a little push to birth the placenta which falls to the ground.

“Now Jacqueline, you must go and ask for help. Pretend that my labor has started and that I’m unable to move. Guide some guards here to help take me back to the palace to give birth there.”

“Alright Madame, just let me help you rest in that tree.”

Once Madame de Montespan is on the floor with her back resting on a tree, her baby in her arms and the afterbirth next to her, Jacqueline leaves her alone. Before falling asleep due to the exhausting labor she had endured, she grabs the bloody afterbirth and places it between her legs, letting it stain the dress, to make it more convincing.

Some distant voices wake her up. Jacqueline has returned with a couple of guards. Those strong men gently lift her and carry her towards the palace. They get in through a service entrance and discreetly reach her chambers. A doctor arrives soon after. Once he is sure that both the mother and the child are alright, he cuts the cord. Everybody leaves the room to let her rest.

She is laying on her bed, unable to move her eyes out of her child, truly looking at her for the first time. Then, a door opens, and the king enters the room.

“Oh, Athénaïs, my love, are you alright?”

“Sire, thanks for coming. I’m alright, I had a beautiful girl.” Being fully aware that the king is disappointed, she adds “I’m sorry that you have not seen the birth…”

“What happened?”

“Oh, it was my fault. I was walking with Jacqueline when I tripped over a fallen branch. I hit my belly and the pains began soon after. I sent Jacqueline to get some help but nothing stopped this little one from coming out of me. Fortunately, she seems to be alright.” She tells this story with a very convincing acting.

“So you did it all alone? In the forest?”

“Yes Sire.” And, noticing the excitement in his voice, she sensually adds. “It’s been so hard, I was not expecting it. I thought that being my third birth and having a normal sized belly, it would be easier. She is not that big, after all, but I swear to you that her head made me fight. I had to spread my legs as far apart as I was able to let your bastard open me as I’ve never been opened before.”

“Well Athénaïs.” The king, with a noticeable boner due to the scene he had pictured in his mind, kisses her forehead. “Take some rest now. And don't worry about me, I sure will have more opportunities to enjoy your births.”

  By @tp66

[moaningthroughthepain]

🤰2️⃣🏠🖐️🏳️🦵🐢💦

+bad positions (i don’t have the emoji)

For the build a birth game/prompt

Yay my first emoji prompt! Thanks for this, I had fun with it. I don't really do orgasmic births as I said when I reposted this, but I did try to have at least one more pleasurable moment. I hope that fits your ask well enough.

Summary: to earn money for her twins, a woman and her husband stream the birth with a twist, every twenty minutes she has to switch to a different position decided beforehand by the viewers! Contains: fpreg, willing birth denial, pushing the baby back in, a straight couple, streamed birth.

Rebbecah gasped for breath as her latest contraction eased, then sat up slightly on her bed so she could get a better look at her husband, Drew, as he fiddled with camera equipment. 

“You better be ready with that equipment,” she gasped. “‘Cause the baby’s coming.”

“Just a moment,” Drew said. 

Another contraction struck, and Rebbecah moaned, pressing her legs together to try and forestall the massive head that was shifting deep inside her. Still it moved, the pressure on her cervix increasing just slightly.

“There we go.” Drew stepped away from the video camera, which was blinking red. The computer next to it showed what the camera was seeing, Rebbecah sitting on the edge of the bed—her long brown hair tied up in ponytail that had seen better days, her face red with exertion and covered in sweat, the tight red dress she wore, which clung to her enlarged chest and her massive torpedo stomach. The amount of live views was already up to nearly thirty people despite having just started, and was continuing to tick up.

“Hello everyone, welcome to our live birth stream. For those who are new, I’m Drew and this is Rebbecah, as she’s been in labor with our twins since last night. Her water broke an hour ago, and I’ve just confirmed she’s ten centimeters dilated and ready to push! We’ve asked for suggestions for birthing positions, and I’ve gone ahead and picked three per child. The way this is going to work is I’ll call out a birthing position and help Rebbecah get into it, she’ll then have to hold that position for twenty minutes. After which, she can get into any position she wants to finish birthing the child. Think you can do this, Rebbecah?”

It had seemed like a really good idea yesterday, now, already exhausted from hours of labor, Rebbecah was slightly less sure. But this was for her husband, for her fans, and more importantly, to raise money for her children. When they’d budgeted having a kid, they hadn’t planned on two after all.  “Yes,” Rebbecah confirmed.

Drew grinned at her, a large, brilliant smile. “Good, good, and you remember our safe word?”

“Turtle.”

“That’s right. We want to have some fun, but we value your safety and the baby’s safety first. Use it if you need to.” Then Drew turned to the camera again. “As a reminder, all proceeds we get today will go into a college saving fund for the babies. Let’s start with our first position—lotus.”

Rebbecah slowly shifted her weight to the side of the bed and spread her legs, allowing her long, heavy stomach to sink between them.  Then, slowly she rose. Gravity shifted, pulling the baby further down, and she gasped at the sheer weight of the baby’s massive head in her hips. She began to squat down, triggering a contraction, and she couldn’t help but push. The head moved, stretching her, creeping down. So full. She moaned. The contraction eased. 

With Drew’s help, she carefully sat down on the ground. The hard tile floor of their playroom pressed harshly against her overly sensitive crotch as she sat. Then she shifted back so she could cross her legs, and it was a little better. On the plus side, her pussy was not touching the hard floor. Her stomach, low with birth, was, however, resting inside her lap. Everything felt scrunched up. She couldn’t lean back in this position, though her body demanded it. 

“This is good,” Drew said. “Now rest your hands on your knees like you are meditating, and we’ll start the timer.”

That would require shifting her weight from her hands to her legs, moving everything forward even more. It seemed an awful idea, but this had originally been her idea, so she complied. Contractions lasted for about one minute, breaks lasted for about two. She only had to hold this position for about six contractions. She could do that. 

The first contraction came, and she curled up around her stomach, her hands slipping from her knees to hold the firm, contracting orb. She pushed, and gravity helped. The head moved down, still, so deep in her. It eased. She returned to her position, breathing deeply, and making “om” sounds for her audience. 

The next contraction struck, and she pushed through that one, curled around herself. By her third, she was soaked in sweat, her dress stuck to her, tugging at her. Everything felt tight. She needed to lean back, to spread her legs fully, to give herself more space. She needed to escape, claustrophobia making it hard to breathe.

“Please,” she gasped to Drew as the contraction died down. “The dress. Take it off.” 

“All right,” Drew said. “We’re just under half way through our first position, and we’re going to pause real quick for a wardrobe change.”

He knelt by her, warm hands brushing her thighs as he helped shimmy the fabric out from underneath her butt. Then she held her hands over her head and he pulled it off. She felt instantly better. Then, under her direction, he removed her large, black lacy bra, leaving her completely naked. He resumed his station by the phone timer, and she placed her hands back on her knees.

She looked up at the computer facing her and grinned at what she saw. She sat cross legged, hands resting on her knees, her stomach filling her lap, her large breasts hanging down on top of her stomach. Though she was clearly exhausted, she seemed to glow, like some sort of fertility goddess, a mother buddha. 

Then her fourth contraction struck, she watched her stomach visibly sink into herself with the force of her muscles, before she closed her eyes and gave in to her body’s demands, pushing. 

She reached her sixth, gasping, sore and eager to move again, waiting eagerly for the timer to go off, but because of the pause to change clothes, a seven struck while she was still lotusing. She groaned, curling into herself. There was so much pressure, the help of gravity, but her legs weren’t spread enough, there wasn’t enough room.

“And that’s time,” Drew announced, and Rebbecah smiled, satisfied she finished the first twenty minutes and made progress. She spread her legs in relief, stretching them, and grinned as she caught sight of her bulging pussy on the computer, hinting at the size of the head waiting just inside her lips.

“Looks like she made good progress,” Drew commented. “Your next position is hands and knees.”

Rebbacah smiled in relief, and with Drews help, managed to get into the position, her forcefully spread legs making it rather difficult to move. She couldn’t see her progress, but she could see her stomach, hanging down beneath her, nearly touching the ground. This was a far better position, and she was eager to make progress in the next twenty minutes.

The first contraction came, and the difference was immediate, there was far more space, and the baby moved forward, stretching her lips for the first time. She gasped at the sting and stopped pushing for a moment, surprised. Then her body’s demand to push took over, and push she did. The stinging sensation grew. “It’s coming,” she gasped between pushes, “it’s coming!” Then the contraction eased, and the baby slid back. Rebbecah groaned, panting for breath.

The next twenty minutes passed relatively quickly, the head slipping out just a bit more with each push, stretching Rebbecah in ways she’d never been stretched before, and then sinking back into her when she stopped pushing. By the time Drew called time, the head had just begun to stay, a messy bit of dark hair peeking out between her pale, stretched lips.

“I think we’re just about reaching a full crown,” Drew announced. “Wonderful job my dear, are you ready for the third position?”

Her knees were sore, so Rebbecah nodded, distracted by the stretching that was happening down below. Balancing on one hand she reached out with the other, awkwardly around her large bump until she could cradle her child’s head. She whimpered when she accidentally bumped it, sending shooting pains through her body, but smiled as she cupped the emerging head gently in her hand. She was so distracted she didn’t quite process the next position Drew had announced. “Sorry?” she asked.

“Handstand,” Drew repeated. “In the interest of safety, I’ll help you up each time you have a contraction, then once it eases you can go back down into a resting position.”

Rebbecah paled. The baby was right there. “No,” she whispered. “I can’t.”

“Are you going to use your safe word?” Drew asked.

Rebbecah played with the hair on her emerging child’s head, then glanced at the viewer count and the amount raised. They needed more. “No,” she said. “Let’s do this.”

Drew tried to help her stand, but she only got about halfway up before her hips protested. She couldn’t do that. Instead, she crawled to the wall, her baby’s head sticking out of her pussy the whole way, rested her head on the pillow Drew had placed for her, and waited.

“Contraction,” she said as her stomach began to tense. Then she kicked, awkwardly, weakly, off the floor. Drew caught her legs,  and pulled them all the way up.

Her legs got forced together in the process, the gravity shifting, and her baby sunk back into her despite the force of the contraction. Rebbecah screamed in pain as her baby kicked in protest. She wanted to reach up and caress her stomach, but she was using her hands to support herself. Her breasts had fallen in her face, dripping sweat and milk across her cheeks.  The agony continued on, the blood rushing to her head, the weight of her over-stretched womb pressing on her lungs. Forget sixty seconds, or even two minutes, it seemed to go on forever. Then, finally, her stomach eased, and Drew helped her feet down, until she curled in a ball around her stomach, panting.

The pain in her crotch had eased. All the progress she’d made in the last twenty minutes erased during a single contraction. She could still feel her baby between her hips, right behind her lips, filling her. Five more, she told herself. 

The baby eased back down between contractions, settling against her lips again. Then her stomach began tightening, shrinking away from her arms and thighs, and Rebbecah gathered herself and kicked off the ground once more. Drew, ever faithful, caught her legs and got her the rest of the way up.

She’d thought this one would be less bad, since she’d already lost her progress. She was wrong. 

She could feel her baby sinking further back, into her birth canal despite her contraction. Groaning, she focused her core and tried to push against gravity. The baby stopped sinking back. She managed to keep it there, just behind her lips, pushing with all her might. As the contraction eased and she was gently brought back to the floor, she even managed to push it out a bit more, the sting of her lips spreading a welcome sensation after the lost process. She felt proud of that progress, right up until the next contraction when it sunk right back in her again..

She was barely aware of herself as he lowered her down after that contraction. As soon as she could think again, she reminded herself that she was half done, three more to go. And then the next struck. It was harder to get up. And she’d barely managed to catch her wits after it, when the next contraction hit. She lost count. Was she done? Did she have more? Her whole being yearned for the alarm. 

Another contraction, surely that had been six already? She was dizzy, exhausted, pushing against gravity just to keep the baby at her lips, then, mid-push, the alarm went off, and Drew thankfully lowered her to the ground. She immediately kept pushing, and the long forestalled baby shot forward, returning to a partial crown in moments.

“That was a tough one, Rebbecah,” Drew said, “But you did it. Now how do you want to finish this birth out?”

Remembering how right it had felt to push while squatting, she chose that, and Drew came up behind her, his warm body pressed against her, supporting her as she fell into a squat, her hips wide, the baby coming out. By the time she’d managed her position, the contraction was upon her. She pushed, grunting in effort, watching herself in the computer as the head slowly, but surely emerged. The nose was just making its exit when the contraction stopped, leaving her gasping, spread at her widest point, her legs shaking with effort and pain.

“It’s coming, one more push, love,” Drew said. 

So she pushed, and with a gush, the head popped free. Dizzy, with relief, She collapsed against Drew, staying only in her squat because he held her there, as the shoulders began to turn. She reached down, holding the head as her pains returned, and she began to slowly push out the shoulders. They were even wider, and took two contractions to get out despite her best pushing, but finally, the baby gushed out of her and began to cry.

“There’s baby number one!” Drew announced. He helped Rebbecah down until she was leaning against the bed, and went to fetch scissors and she held the baby close to her, soothing it. The two of them made the most of the refractory period, then then contractions began again.

“Time for baby number two,” Rebbecah announced, reluctantly handing her first child to Drew. She was exhausted, but the brief break and actually seeing the baby left her feeling revitalized. She could do this again. There wasn’t a position that could be worse than upside-down. “What’s my first position?”

“Tied to the wall,” Drew answered, setting the baby down in a waiting crib and gesturing to the chains which hung on their wall for their more spicy streaming sessions.

With shaking legs and Drew’s assistance, Rebbecah waddled over to the wall, where Drew attached the cuffs to her hands, then pulled the chains taunt, pulling her weight up, off her legs. Then he spread her legs apart and secured them to the wall as well in the leg cuffs. Her arms, tied together above her head, taking most of her weight and restricting her breathing, her legs forcibly spread apart. 

It was uncomfortable, but doable, her contractions came, she pushed, and the baby moved slowly but surely down. Far easier than her first baby since she had already stretched, but she was exhausted, her pushes were less powerful, and so the two forces evened each other out. Being chained to the wall like this was familiar, one of her favorite games, and it allowed her to embrace the pain. She vocalized freely, moaning with each push, feeling the baby spread her wide open, completely lost in the sensation of giving birth.

Drew, meanwhile, was also distracted, answering questions in the chat, watching his baby, and of course his beautiful wife, tied to a wall, her stomach visibility sinking into her with each contraction. She was beautiful, and it made his length ache with desire. So caught up with the sight he was, that he didn’t realize he’d forgotten to set the timer.

It wasn’t until forty minutes later, when the baby’s head began to crown, that he realized his mistake. Quickly, he set his phone to a one second timer, so it would go off. At the sound, Rebbecah’s eyes opened. She smiled, panting. “Seemed to last forever, that one,” she joked. “Baby’s pretty much already born.”

Drew smiled, awkwardly. “You are doing great my love. But you can’t give birth just yet. Still have two positions to do.”

Rebbecah eyed Drew nervously as he drew closer. He reached for her chin, turning her toward him so she could see his smile. She smiled back at him, exhausted.

“I’m so very proud of you,” he said. “You’ve done so amazing.” He leaned in, and kissed her, and she kissed him back, passionately, feeling his hands caress her belly, and then reach down lower, until one cradled her baby’s head. He pressed his lips more insistently against her, his other hand moving up to fondle her leaking breasts. She moaned into his advances, heat pooling between her legs then, with a quick jerk, he shoved her baby’s head back inside her.

She cried out, breaking off the kiss as the agony coursed through her. Her baby kicked, she couldn’t breathe with pain, yet he chased her with his mouth, capturing her lips in another kiss. He stepped away reluctantly, hand dripping with birthing fluids. 

“There now,” he gasped, pink-cheeked and clearly aroused. “You are all ready for your second position—sitting on my lap.”

He untied her, easing her back to the floor, when another contraction hit. Remembering the agony of having the baby shoved into her, Rebbecah tried not to push, and succeeded for only about ten seconds before she gave in, squating instinctively, spreading her legs, grunting with effort, feeling her baby begin to emerge once more.

Drew waited patiently for the contraction to end, then pulled her over to a soft chair before the camera. He sat down, then he eased her onto his lap, so she was facing him. Her naked, gravid stomach pressed up against his well toned abs. He’d removed his shirt at some point, though Rebbecah couldn’t remember when that happened. Then Drew’s hands caught Rebbecah’s hips. One of her legs on either side of his thigh, he pulled her down until her cunt rested directly atop his thigh, naked except his navy blue boxers. She glanced down, noticing his very prominent bulge. “Glad you’re enjoying this,” she said. 

Then a contraction hit. She instinctively used her feet for leverage to pull herself off him to give herself even an inch or so to give birth, but his hands around her waist held her still. After two contractions with zero progress, she gave up trying to escape, and instead leaned into it, grinding against his thigh, trying to chase the agony and exhaustion away with the growing warmth down there.

Each time she shifted back and forth, her stomach rubbed against Drew’s dick through his boxers. He groaned at the sensation, holding her closer and closer, as she pressed down on her thigh. The pain of the contractions was distracting, she couldn’t quite reach an orgasm before getting distracted, but the growing heat was doing something for the pain.

Drew, unfettered by contractions, leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. They were hot, moist, cloying. Enjoyable, and yet at the same time too much. But it was all too much, so Rebbecah leaned into it, pressing down harder searching for release, for something, for anything, to escape the pressing need to give birth.

The alarm went off, but Drew was caught in the moment and didn’t seem to notice, his breathing staggered.

Rebbecah pulled away, gasping. “Drew, the timer. Please. I need to give birth.”

But he chased her lost in his own ecstasy, forcing his lips on her once more. Another contraction hit, and Rebbecah could resist the urge to push no more—she did, feeling her baby press against Drew’s thigh as he finally reached his climax, his breath stuttered, and wetness bloomed across his boxers.

Her contraction was over by the time his breathing had steadied and he managed to stop the timer. Rebbecah took the opportunity to use his shoulders and stand, her legs spread over his. The baby, just behind her lips.

“The last position?” she asked desperately.

“Laying on your stomach.”

That seemed awful, but the pressure at least, would force the baby out faster. She agreed, and he helped her down to her hands and knees, then, carefully, gingerly, she lowered herself down. The force on her stomach ached, then came a contraction. She pushed and the baby jerked forward after being contained for so long. The sudden burning came as a surprise and her shaking arms gave way, dropping her down to the ground, adding to the pressure within her exponentially. With a sudden searing pain, the baby was at a full crown, and it was just the first contraction!

“That was fast,” Drew said. “We can’t have that.”

Quivering, legs spread, laying atop her massive stomach, she waited for the telltale touch of his hands on her. They brushed past her clit, playing there for a moment, then cupped her baby and shoved them in. She cried out, feeling her lips close once again over the child's head. Her vision grayed out a bit, and then she was pushing once more, and the stretching was happening, and the baby was coming out again, the pressure on her stomach was so much. Then his hands, were there again, about the push the baby back in and—

“Turtle!” Rebbecah cried. “Turtle, please. Please don’t.”

Immediately, Drew was there, helping her up, off her stomach, her baby still at a full crown stretching her wide. He helped her exhausted, shaking body back into the squat. A contraction came, she pushed, and the head inched forward. She whined. “Come out, baby, come out.”

“You are doing marvelously, love,” Drew whispered, running hand through her hair. “I am so proud. You are so strong.”

The next contraction came, she pushed again, for a full minute and a half, the baby’s head bobbed in her cunt, unmoving, her stretched, red lips glistening. Then finally, at the next contraction, something shifted, and the head shot out. Her legs gave out at the shock, and Drew eased her gently backwards so she was leaning against him as the shoulders twisted, and then, finally emerged, crying. “We did it,” Rebbecah gasped, smiling, tears streaking her eyes. Then she looked up at the amount of money they’d made. “Wow,” she gasped. “We really did do it. I think we could even afford to have some more.”

[moaningthroughthepain]

🫄 5️⃣ 🚜 💦 ⌛️ 9 months ago, the carrier took in a lost and wounded traveler at their rural, isolated homestead. the traveler has since moved on, but unwittingly left behind five presents as a token of gratitude

It's the last days of summer, and Jan is busy in their garden. The tomatoes are ripe, and the squash will be ready soon. They've been contracting for days, but they ignore it. They have a lot of work to do before the baby comes, and no one else to bring them food.

They rub their heavy stomach through a particularly sharp contraction, and are rewarded by a kick to their bladder. "Steady, little one," they soothe. "There's no hurry."

They can't be sure how far along they are, but they look overdue, and their belly dropped two weeks ago, and it's been nearly ten months since their lodger disappeared. They'd made love one last time by the light of the nearly full moon and then Jan had been left alone again.

They waddle back to the edge of their garden, basket balanced on their stomach. They're big enough be carrying twins, but they can't bring themselves to consider it. One baby will be enough work. They brace their hands against the small of their back and breathe. It feels like their baby is nestled in their pelvis and they couldn't close their legs if they wanted to, but a kick comes in their ribs this time.

Water trickles down their leg, and they think the weight against their bladder has made them wet themselves, until they realize their waters have broken. Their stomach remains as tight and gravid as ever, packed full of their child, and the passing thought that it might be twins comes again.

They take a step towards the cabin, and can go no further. They clutch their stomach and know with absolute certainty that it's time to push. They have a nest of towels in front of the warm stove inside, and it's too far. They stumble to their knees in the grass and rock their hips. They're wearing a knee length smock and nothing else--nothing else fits.

They scream, and push, and crown. The stretch is excruciating, but it's also right. They rock their hips, and their baby eases down further. Oh, they realize. This feels good. Rocking their hips generates pressure in all the right places, so they savor it, working themselves up until it's time to push again.

Two more contractions and their baby is born, sliding out onto the grass easily, like giving birth is Jan's true purpose. They breathe, thighs shaking, and and cut the cord. Then they pick up their wailing baby and wrap them in the edge of their smock. It has pointed ears, just like its father.

Jan's belly is no smaller, and it supports the baby as they waddle back towards the house. Fluid runs down their thighs, and the weight is back in their pelvis. Twins, then, but suddenly they're excited.

So is the baby, because as they step onto the porch, they feel a crown between their legs. This one slips into the world on the front step of the house, too fast for pleasure to build anymore.

Jan cradles them in their other arm and makes it inside, nestling the two infants in their cradle. Another contraction ripples through them. They lay in their nest of towels and spread their legs to let the afterbirth out. Instead, they feel the stretch of another head in their pelvis.

Jan reaches a trembling hand between their legs to confirm what they already know. Their lover left them with a proper litter.

By the time their fifth baby is settled in their birth canal, they're too tired to push. They mewl and spread their legs, wishing the contractions would be enough to bring the child into the world. There is pressure everywhere, and they're more overstimulated than they've ever been in their life. Their cunt is spread open, their breasts are already leaking, and every muscle aches. Slowly, they run their hands over sore flesh, easing pain, and then they begin to work their clit between two fingers. Their orgasm crests in time with one last contraction, as they bring their final child into the world.

[moaningthroughthepain]

I look at you silently as Don Leon paced the length of the stone dungeon-like basement. Your hands and legs are zip tied to a chair fastened firmly to the floor. Guards line the room like centuries and I stand close as the Don's most trusted doctor. 

They stripped you nude before locking you in place- your bare, massive belly sat atop your forced closed thighs and your tits hung heavily for all eyes to see.

We were undercover trying to expose one of the biggest drug rings in the world. Unfortunately for you, you attracted one of the worst men in the organization. I don't know if you were cornered or if the affection was mutual but it doesn't matter at this point. Someone fucked up, you were burned and now you are days overdue about to face an angered mob boss and ex-lover. 

“What the fuck did you tell em?” The Don’s voice is low and cold as ice. 

You don't speak, only hang your head in silence. The Don's massive hand snatches at your cheeks and lifts your gaze to his. 

“Tell me. Or I'm going to do something you'll regret. Do you want that? Do you want me to hurt you?” 

You remain silent. As our protocol strictly suggests. 

“Open the case.” The Don commands me, pointing at a solitary table.

I open it and there is only one large syringe and an equally large bottle of fluid in the case. I take it out and read the words: “Pitocin”. You had just reached your due date a few days ago before you were found out and this was one of the many supplies the Don procured for the home birth he wanted for you. 

“Stick 'em with it, see if that loosens his lips.” 

“Sir, the baby hasn't dropped yet nor has it positioned itself for birth, if we do this now, the baby might not be able to come and-” 

“Fine.”

The Don snatches the syringe out of my hand and stabs it into your arm. He holds his gaze to your, fear stricken, expression as he presses on the ejector. Seconds pass in silence, then minutes, then you begin to shift against your restraints. A muted groan rumbles in your throat until it escapes in a sputtering gasp. All eyes besides the Don's are drawn to your stomach now. It was perfectly symmetrical before but the high dose pitocin was doing its work on your body; the skin distorts around the shape of your womb, outlining the don's big baby. 

“When I get the answers I need…we can worry about the baby,” The Don regards you with nothing but spite born from betrayal as your grunts begin to transform into short cries. 

You throw your head back with gritted teeth as the contraction intensifies and you look at me with pleading, desperate eyes. I've already sent out a distress call to HQ, so now I can only hope you can hold on for our allies to get here. 

((Sat on this one for a while because of how much my brain was buzzing LMAO. Sorry this one took me so long to get around to but THANK YOOOUUU!!!))

This one is kinda dark but I can't think of any warnings it would need. It's pretty much just torture but the birth is the torture in this case lol.

I spent a whole year undercover when the unthinkable happened.

I fell in love.

I've had many sexual partners throughout my life but The Don Leon was something else. Something highly unexpected but intimate in a way I'd never experienced before. The sex alone was enough for him to have my full attention. I would shake and tremble and by the time he was done with me, my face would be red, puffy, and wet with tears. The sex, no, love making, was sealed with passionate kisses at the end. They deepened more and more each time we finished rocking his California king sized bed together. I knew it was over for me the night he fell alseep on my chest with the two of us coated in saliva, sweat, and cum. I stroked his hair as he snored lightly and thought about just how screwed I was. He was effectively tugging at my heart, and I was unknowingly tugging at his.

Reality came crashing in when I found out I was carrying his child. I'm a spy. I have an objective. I was a fool to let things get out of hand in such a dire way.

I was talking with my higher ups, planning an abortion when Don found the pregnancy test I carelessly left in the bathroom trash can. To my surprise, he was happy. "If in every lifetime I could choose who would carry my children," he told me, "it would be you. I'd choose you every time."

I'm not sure if it was from the deep love I'd developed for the man or my whacked out hormones, but I cried. Half because of how romantic and excited he was to create new life and half because of what I was planning to do with this baby. He fucked me so good all while grunting and growling about how eager he was to see me grow huge, to see me uncomfortable with his baby, to pound me like this every night until I couldn't take it anymore. Instead of falling asleep on my chest, he spooned me with a hand rubbing my abdomen where our pea-sized baby sat. And in that moment, I made up my mind.

I wanted to keep it.

I told HQ what I intended to do and it wasn't what I expected, but they agreed. There was a trade off. Of course there was. I get to keep the baby but throughout my pregnancy, I'd be dropping bits of info to the organization as The Don let his guard down around me. They grew short tempered when I hesitated and I was met threats of throwing my baby into the system the moment the cord was cut. Comply, and I'd get to keep it. Betraying my lover was the last thing I wanted to do even though it was my job, but as long as I got to keep the baby –his baby– at the end of the day, I'd be okay. So I agreed.

Our bond grew with the size of my belly. The babe within me was fat and large just like their father. The very last thing I ever expected to see was a big, terrifying drug lord covered in scars and tattoos worshiping a pregnant belly as it expanded. When the baby began to kick, he started talking to my bump as he rubbed it. To my surprise, the baby responded to his voice. In the later months, they kicked hard even when The Don (Leon was what he said I could call him) was speaking to me from across the room. I couldn't get over how cute the two of them were together and the baby wasn't even here yet.

I was stretched out and contracting at 8 months. No one –not me, Leon, or his goons– thought I'd make it to my due date but we were all wrong. I was a few days over and miserable, glued to the bed with a pillow under my belly and between legs for some sort of comfort but the only real relief I got was when Leon rubbed my back or squeezed my hips with his huge, strong hands.

Any day I'd drop. Leon wanted me to give birth naturally even though I was sure this baby would require a c-section to be born but we met in the middle. I'd labor and push as much as I could at home and we'd have a doctor on hand in case there were complications. It was more than nothing, so I took the deal.

When I told HQ our plan, they sent my old partner in to help with the baby if it was necessary. Leon let me choose you. He wanted whoever the doctor was to be someone I was comfortable handling me while I birthed, and I could only think of one person for the job.

Seeing you again after two years felt surreal. The old crush I had came bit the back of my mind and with my late-stage pregnancy hormones going wild, I was wet within minutes of seeing you again. I choked it back as best as I could when I remembered I was huge with another man's child. Ruined. I knew there was no way you'd want me when I was fit to pop at any given moment.

Days came and went, as did false labor pains, and the baby only grew larger along with my discomfort. My mind was so wrapped up in the aches and pains but Leon was my boulder in the worst moments. He remained steady when my temper flared from being so big and uncomfortable and he was always ready to send shockwaves of pleasure through my body when he knew I needed it.

Leon ordered daily cervical checks to ensure that I was opening at a decent rate. I blushed furiously as you slid latex gloved fingers up my soon-to-be birth canal and measured my dilation. It took a mountain of effort for me to not rock my hips against your hand. I had to breathe deeply to control myself and you praised me for it, not knowing I was inhaling and blowing out of horniness and not pain.

One time you poked me a little too hard and my belly went painfully tight. As I whimpered, I felt your warm hand on my lower back rubbing and pressing into the contracting muscles, bringing me immense relief. I began to wonder how different things would've been if we were together during my pregnancy. How your hands would feel squeezing my hips as they expanded for our baby, if they would react to your voice the same way they did with Leon's, what names you would come up with as we laid in bed at night.

My heart was now split in two with Leon taking the lead and you close behind him. Thinking about what the future would hold for all of us made my belly tighten from the anxiety it gave me. The ball would drop very soon and the truth would be revealed in time. I just didn't expect it to be the very next day.

I woke up from a deep slumber I was finally able to enter after an hour of twisting in bed, pleading with his big baby to settle so I could sleep. Leon screamed and barked orders at his men down the hallway and right away I knew something was very, very wrong.

I was just about to swing my legs over the side of the bed and use the headboard to stand on my shaky legs when he opened the door. His stance, his expression, his breathing, the muscles bulging around those thick arms that I now feared he would use to choke me out. This was the angriest I had ever seen him, and the tension in the air along with his white-hot glare made it apparent that his rage was directed at me.

"You're the mole."

My heart drummed in my ears and I blinked rapidly as my eyes began to wet. When he began stomping over to the bed, I shrank back and held my belly protectively. The stress made it contract hard and I was vocalizing my discomfort when he reached me. Tears were fully flowing down my cheeks as my middle seized and he stared down at me. Now that he was close enough, I could see that there was something more in his eyes. A deep hurt. Betrayal.

"After everything, it was you."

The crack in his voice shattered my heart. Just the night before we were talking about names in the same bed I now feared he would end my life in. I wanted to go back to that moment and stay there indefinitely. Our eyes were locked as he stared into my very being and I stared into his. He saw fear and regret. I saw rage and sorrow. Then I saw tears building in his eyes as they did in mine. I was speechless.

"It was you this whole fucking time!" I jumped back when he yelled and I saw his eyes flicker down to my belly as the sudden loud noise also made the baby flinch. Leon pinched the bridge of his nose and turned towards the dresser. My mind was on fire trying to think of anything I could say to fix this even though I knew deep down that nothing could be done to change anything. Playing dumb would only add insult to injury as Leon was not a stupid man and hated being treated as such, but I needed to say something.

Holding the bottom of my swell, I grunted at the shifting weight of his heavy child as I pulled myself out of the bed with the help of the headboard, my back screaming for me to lay back down as I did so. "Leon, please. I-I didn't think it would go this way–"

"How long?" He was leaning forward with his hands braced on the dresser. From what I could see of his reflection in the mirror, his eyes were damp. "How long have you been feeding them information?"

I didn't want to answer him honestly. I knew it would enrage and break him simultaneously, more than he already was. I took one wide, careful step towards him and whispered a light "I'm so sorry" that I knew wasn't nearly enough. Nothing was.

I saw his shoulders rise and fall as he drew in a deep breath, held it, and released.

"You will be." Was the last thing I heard before he clasped his fingers around a blunt object on the dresser and swung it at my head with the speed of a bullet. The blackness was immediate as my body went limp and I crumpled to the ground.

And now, here I was with a grotesquely distorted belly as labor was chemically forced to begin. I was uncertain of the survival of me or the baby at this point. The pitocin injected into my arm burned under my skin. I was completely unaware that he'd stuck me with three times the recommended dose for a safe, normal induction.

The first birth pain ripped through me and I felt the huge body of his baby move downward. I expected the contraction to wane after a minute, but it continued and the outline of the babe could be seen shifting as my body moved it into place as quickly as the contraction forced it to. The baby went from laying sideways to being head down and cruising towards my pelvis in a single contraction. As the head lowered, the pain in my back increased exponentially. It soon reached a hard climax and I was fully screaming as I felt something rubbing hard against the bones of my lower spine. I've never given birth before, but something had to be wrong. The pain in my back shouldn't feel like this.

"I need help." I squeaked as I shifted my hips in vain. Nothing was helping the pressure and being tied down to this metal chair was making my back and hip pain worse. I expected the feeling to cease when the contraction let up, but the blinding back pain remained. When the baby wiggled and I felt little arms and legs graze the front of my belly, my eyes went wide. The baby was turned the wrong way and feet down. Not only was it larger than average but it was coming out in the worst position possible. That was the moment I truly began to panic. "Mmmgg. Leon, something's wrong. Something's wrong. Please!"

I barely had half a minute before the next birth pain hit and had every muscle and vein in my body bulging while I was forced to push despite knowing for a fact that I was barely dilated enough for the babe to pass through my cervix but the triple dose if pitocin had it barreling through anyway. The scream that left me had you and his goons shifting in unease at the father of my child's cruelty, completely powerless and unable to do anything about my distress. It was a punishment he thought I deserved but never in a million years did I think he'd be so callous when the life of our baby was on the line.

My goal was to speak to him when I finished pushing and roaring in pain but I didn't get the break I expected. I was forced to speak through screams and strained grunts as I paused to push between words.

"Oh FUCK... Hah-hah-hah-hah... oooooohhhhhh please the... UGH... the baby it's... MMGAAAHHHH... ugh, Leon please, ple-EEEEASE... I didn't tell them anything I-mmmmmmmmm... you gotta believe-AUGH-gotta believe me, Leon, please! The baby needs help... it needs..."

There was an intense pressure between my legs and my body was forced to push against it. Clear liquid gushed from my pussy and spilled from the sides of the chair as I felt my sac pop with the same endless contraction. The baby surged downward and I felt tiny feet fall onto my cervix, blinding me with the sensitivity as the contraction pushed those tiny feet through my barely dilated hole. The pain was as angry as the man before me. It was so great that I became delirious with my eyes unsteady and my head lolling on my shoulders. My back was going to break and the pain in my pelvis was so great that everything went numb.

"Leon... Leon, you need to... ah-ah-ah... she needs to turn." I could see his breath catch in his chest after hearing me say "she". Don wanted the gender to be a surprise for when he guided our baby out into the world with his own hands but I figured delivering the baby himself was no longer something he wanted to do. I let it be known that I was having a girl. That we were having a girl. All I had on my side in this state was manipulation. Psychological warfare.

I used the last ounce of strength in my body to beg for our lives. "You can kill me... just... mmmmmmmmm... just please let me have her..."

The baby's outstretched arms rolled against belly as if she agreed with me. I knew Leon saw it too, as his eyes quickly flashed down to the lump sticking out of my laboring belly before looking up at my face again. I didn't dare tell him about the impending raid but I hoped he'd untie me and let you turn the baby into the right position before she was too far down to be moved without pushing her back up to flip and turn her.

By now, I knew a c-section was no longer an option. I was giving birth naturally whether she was in the right position or not. And if she didn't come soon, I'd be pushing in the middle of a raid surrounded by smoke and gunfire with a baby hanging out of me in the middle of it if the agents didn't get me out in time. I locked eyes with you and there was an immediate mutual understanding of the events to come within the next few hours.

I was going to be in absolute hell.

((anon I will love and cherish you forever for this <333))

[moaningthroughthepain]

HFP Side Projects: Specimen 4582

Commission for: @cosmic-kinks Rating: Explicit (dubcon sexual content) Word count: 7,076 Summary: You're a captive fairy being used in experiments to test fertility. You've carried eggs, bugs, slimes, and more. But now it's time to see if you can successfully reproduce with a homo sapiens—whatever that is. Transmasculine carrier, he/him pronouns.

Theme(s): NSFW, dubcon, non-human pregnancy, fairy pregnancy, size difference, micro kink, hyperpregnancy, light inflation (drugs and come), intoxication, aphrodisiacs, strong fetal movement, medical experimentation, urethral fucking (fairy to human), fingering, leaking amniotic fluid, immobilized by belly, labor suppression (drugs), lactation, mild breathing struggles (due to size difference)

Gendered anatomical language used for reader: cunt, folds, dick

Exists in the same universe as The Experiment series; parallel but separate.

"Good morning, little one. It's time to wake up."

You stretch your limbs, feeling soft fabric shift beneath you as the voice pulls you out of your reverie. Everything's fuzzy where you linger along the border of consciousness and sleep, and you want to resist the pull of growing awareness, but you can't doze forever.

Your eyes flutter open, and you find yourself staring up at the bars of a cage.

"There you are." The voice is calming, its low, masculine timbre peaceful. It's a familiar voice, one that you've grown used to hearing for… how long has it been? The weeks and months have flown by so fast that you're no longer sure.

You don't know his name. You only know him as the Researcher.

Rubbing at your eyes, you push yourself into a seated position, your wings fluttering behind you to work out the kinks of sleep. He's standing outside of your cage, an absolutely gargantuan figure of a human in comparison to your own two-foot height. He's holding some sort of board with a piece of paper clamped to it, and he seems to be taking notes as he observes you.

You'd think after all this time, he'd run out of things to write.

But then again, it feels like there's always something new happening with his work.

Your recollections of existing as a free fairy in the outside world feel like a fading dream these days, the forest where you grew up almost a distant memory. You'd only just reached maturity and struck out on your own, as your kind is wont to do, when you discovered what you now know to be a fairy trap: offerings of fresh fruit, honey, and milk laid out within a strange wire-wrapped box. You were cautious enough to examine the box with a critical eye and deem it harmless before venturing in, but all of the caution in the world meant nothing after the door snapped shut to trap you inside. 

You remember hurting yourself in your panic, the cold iron of the wire burning your skin and delicate wings in your frantic struggle to escape. Then came a bright light, booming voices, pain, and then… nothing.

When you opened your eyes again, you found yourself in this cage, with the Researcher at your side. It's been that way ever since.

You think there are others of your kind here in this place, somewhere. You hear them sometimes. But you've never seen them.

"It's time for your morning exam," the Researcher informs you, as dispassionate as always, his gloved hands unlatching the front of your cage. "And today's medicine. I've also got a treat for you if you're good. Will you be good for me today?"

You learned a few things of note early on in your captivity. First, that you were much better off cooperating than fighting back. The damaged ligaments of your wings, sliced with a surgeon's precision to leave you unable to bear your own weight during flight, are evidence enough of that. And second, while you are perfectly capable of speaking, the humans talk about a whole lot of things you don't understand and show no interest in actually listening to you. So, why bother trying to hold a conversation?

So you dutifully stand and stretch your arms wide, letting the Researcher's objective yet almost gentle touch flow over your nude body. He strokes over your extremities before working his way toward your torso, where he pauses to knead your faintly bloated pecs with both thumbs. The touch should disgust you, but after being subjected to it day in and day out, it's started to grow… oddly pleasant. 

"Looks like the tissue here is still a little swollen from the last reproductive test," he murmurs to himself, the tips of his thumbs rubbing circles over your tightening nipples. You can't help but shiver at the sensation. "You might still have some milk in your ducts, which is surprising, considering that you last carried…" He glances at the paper he'd set aside before opening your cage. "Ah, yes, the modified larvae of Specimen 78251. Not exactly a creature known for nursing, but then your body doesn't know that, does it?"

It's impossible to forget those creatures, honestly. The large, worm-like things filled your belly to the limit, constantly squirming and writhing beneath your skin until slithering free of your womb during their inevitable birth. 

His hands finally move lower to palpate the loose skin of your belly, covered with silvery stretch marks from all of the unnatural pregnancies you've had to endure since your capture. Some of them were easier than others; the slimes were chilly but extremely supple, while the hard shells of those mysterious eggs were uncomfortable but small enough to pass without too much trouble. You can't possibly remember everything that's been stuffed inside of you to gestate at this point, but it should be coming to an end soon. 

The Researcher promised.

"Well, I have to say that you've recovered quite nicely. I believe that it won't be long until you're ready for the next step in our little experiment. Isn't that exciting?"

You stare up at him and shrug. What choice do you have?

"But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Medicine first, then a tasty little tidbit for being so cooperative." The Researcher finally lets go of you to retrieve a small tray covered in a variety of medical supplies, most of which you can't make heads or tails of. Thankfully, it doesn't appear that you'll be receiving an injection today, but the syringe filled with a pale pink liquid is all too familiar. 

The Researcher seems to notice the hesitance on your face and smiles, the expression nearly genuine. "Remember, as long as you remain fully cooperative, we'll release you when we're done with our tests."

You sigh and open your mouth, resigned. 

The nozzle slips easily between your lips and over your tongue. You watch the Researcher start to depress the plunger and instinctively begin to guzzle the medication, letting the cool, sweet-and-bitter fluid slide right down your throat. It's easier just to take it instead of fighting—the sore jaw and near-drowning associated with being forced to swallow are not experiences you wish to repeat. 

If only there weren't so damned much of it. You gulp and gulp and gulp, feeling your belly start to fill and bulge from the sheer volume of the fluid. It's a struggle to get the last mouthful down, but you somehow manage without wasting any. You're left groaning, though, rubbing a soothing hand over your rounded gut as it twinges and burbles in protest. 

"There you are. Good boy. Now sit down while I get you your treat."

You drop to your knees and then shift to your rump on the bottom of your cage, plucking idly at the soft fabric that lines it while you wait for the man to follow through. Already, you can feel the strange liquid starting to blur the edges of your vision and leave your thoughts a little woozy, but it's okay. 

It's okay because good boys get honey.

He only gives you a tiny dollop, but that liquid gold might as well be the nectar of the gods to a fairy like you. You forget all about your aching tummy as you greedily devour your treat, grunting and moaning as you lick the small saucer clean of every remnant you can find. At one time, you might have been embarrassed for showing such enthusiasm, but your experiences in this place have leeched most of the shame from you. It's better to gobble down the good things when they come than do without.

The Researcher takes your saucer as soon as you've finished sniffing and lapping at the plastic dish, reluctantly accepting that there's no more honey to be had. You smile lopsidedly up at him, your thoughts muddled like he'd stuffed your head full of cotton. 

He's so nice for taking care of you and giving you such nice things. So big and strong and sweet, almost as sweet as the honey.

You hear the sound of a pen scratching on paper, but it doesn't bother you. The honey and other substances flow through your veins like the pleasant buzz of alcohol, wicking away all of your worries and cares, until you inevitably find yourself slumping backward.

"Whoa there, little one," he chuckles. A large hand cups you from behind and slowly lowers you down so you don't hurt yourself. 

Such a nice human. The tiny squeak of a hiccup leaves you giggling, though you giggle even harder when you realize it was you who made the sound. Your medicine always makes you feel so silly. So silly and… and… warm. And fuzzy. 

You hum happily to yourself, mindlessly sprawling across the fabric like a starfish. 

You're so out of sorts that you don't even react to the sound of rasping metal or the stroke of something firm and slick between your legs. Something's happening, something that you probably should be concerned about, but your mind is shrouded in a pink, swirling haze of bliss.

There's… something rubbing against you. Something that feels good.

You whimper and wriggle your hips in search of a bit more friction.

"Does that feel pleasant, little one?" the Researcher asks, his voice sounding like it's coming from somewhere unexpectedly far. The rubbing between your legs continues, eased by some unknown fluid. "Would you like me to continue?"

Your chin bounces in an eager nod.

"Ah ah, I'm going to need you to use your words," he clucks, pulling that wonderful pressure away and leaving you whining. "I know you can speak."

You don't want to. If he's not going to help, then you'll just do it yourself. Eagerly spreading your knees apart, you slide a hand down over your belly and dip your fingers into the hollow void that demands to be filled. You're impossibly wet, your dick already erect and throbbing above your folds, and–

But then there's pressure at your wrists, tugging your arms away. You let out a petulant moan, thrashing against the cruel hold.

"What did I say? Speak for me."

These humans are heartless creatures, dragging you away from the pleasure your body so desperately needs. But you also really need that whatever-it-is back between your thighs before you simply explode. "Yes," you bawl, too strung out to see more than a blur of color where his face probably is. "I need it!"

"There's my good boy." And just like that, the wet friction is back.

It swirls around your straining dick and along the seam of your wet opening, spreading your juices around to make the slide even easier. You can't tell what exactly it is –a finger, perhaps, or some sort of tool– but it's difficult to care when you're in this state. When all you want is to feel something breach you and fill you up. To drive rhythmically into your body until that strange heat is sated. 

Your hips drunkenly undulate, hoping against hope that whatever the Researcher is teasing you with might finally slip inside, but no matter how hard you grind down on it, it seems like it's simply too big to fit.

It's not until you're practically sobbing with frustration that the human changes the angle of his assault, and suddenly you feel your dick sink into a warm, wet recess. Your hips buck again, feeling yourself sink into that opening like it's been made for you to fuck. You're not sure what it is, but it feels incredible. 

Sniveling from the sheer overpowering rapture of it, you find yourself clawing at the floor of your cage while you squirm, your hips rocking up in jerky, irregular thrusts. You need more of that squeeze around you, sucking you in, soft and warm and slick. The pressure, the friction, the way your dick throbs with every movement—it's doing something to your addled mind, making you lose yourself in the pleasure of it. You shove harder, your breath coming in short, frenzied gasps. 

And then your orgasm slams into you, so intense that you find your vision blurring even more. You cry out, your body shuddering through the violence of it, your dick pulsing vainly inside that tight, wet space. 

But things don't end immediately after your climax. Whatever-it-is pushes firmly against your ravenous cunt—not hard enough to enter you, but firmly enough to seal the opening of your hole over the tip. 

There's a deep, groaning sort of grunt in a voice that's not your own.

Liquid heat floods your belly, forcing the skin of your abdomen to jerk and swell, until it's stretched painfully tight. 

And then, your vision finally goes dark.

"Good morning, little one. It's time to wake up."

You stretch your limbs, groaning at the pressure and soreness that grows with each passing day. It's started to make it hard to get a full night's sleep, and you're exhausted.

But the Researcher's soothing voice keeps you tethered at the edge of consciousness. 

"Specimen 4582 is progressing well through the twentieth week of gestation. The hybrid fetus is smaller than what might be expected for a cross with homo sapiens, but it is within acceptable estimates considering its progenitors." Familiar fingers rub over your bulging middle and begin fondling it in a clinical yet surprisingly thorough manner. "An ultrasound has not yet been conducted, but a manual exam reveals that the fetus is likely around the size of a lemon." 

Your mind isn't awake enough to try and grasp the meaning behind his words, not that many of them make sense to you anyway. Instead, you let out a whine of displeasure, trying to shift away from that uncomfortable touch.

"There's no way to tell how long this pregnancy will need to progress to reach viability. We do not yet have enough data to determine how long creatures of this sort typically gestate their natural young. Experiments with other specimens have been inconclusive in this area. With that in mind, it appears to be a reasonable hypothesis to infer that this point could occur anywhere up to the usual nine-month mark."

You manage to crack your eyes open, squinting up at the man who is still talking into a little metal box and rolling your tender belly around under his fingers like a tennis ball. 

"However, considering the rapid growth of Specimen 4582 thus far–"

Finally reaching the limits of your patience, you growl and smack warningly at the human's fingers, though you have enough sense to keep your claws sheathed.

"Ah, the specimen is awake. Voice log to be concluded later." You hear a click. 

"Was that too much stimulation, little one?" His touch gentles and slows until it grows pleasant again, and you no longer feel the instinctive urge to bite. "I'm sorry. I forget how sensitive you're getting sometimes." 

You huff in annoyance but otherwise allow him to continue caressing your swollen womb. It can be comforting as long as he's careful. 

"Your belly is starting to get rather big, you know. Such a pretty little thing. But you've got a long way to go, so you simply must refrain from being so frisky. Otherwise, I may have to restrain you for your own good." 

Restraints. The thought of being tied up in this state fills you with fear, and you can't choke back the whimper that rises in your throat.

"Shh, shh, little one. It's okay. I just don't want you to come to any harm." The Researcher's fingers come up to stroke the line of your jaw, a pale imitation of a lover's touch. "It's my job to look out for your well-being. Why don't you relax for me?"

Then he does something he's never done before. The Researcher leans down and presses his lips to your bulging middle, the touch soft and warm against your straining skin. It's almost affectionate. 

A confused breath shudders its way out of your lungs. All you can do is nod.

He's still kissing your abdomen when you feel the warm, blunt tip of one of his fingers nudge its way between your legs. "We're going to try something different today," he murmurs, petting your sensitive flesh. "Since you'll be giving birth to something a bit larger than you have before, I need to make sure you're well-prepared. Will you let me take care of that for you?"

You swallow, your thoughts racing. You have no idea what he's put inside your womb this time, but you do know that you need to cooperate if you ever want this to end. Cooperation means freedom. So, while your instincts beg you to remain wary, you glance up at the Researcher through your lashes and give an uncertain nod.

"Wonderful," the human says with a faint smile, already reaching for something you can't see. There's a sharp pop, a bit of movement, and the Researcher's slick-coated finger is back between your thighs. It's cool, but something about the liquid leaves your skin tingling in a very agreeable way. 

Maybe it's the near-constant stream of medicine flowing through your veins. Maybe you've simply been conditioned to react to his touch. Regardless of the reason behind it, you find faint sparks of pleasure starting to rise beneath his finger, the friction and pressure teasing your reluctant nerves alight. 

The Researcher slowly circles your entrance, the deliberate pressure just enough to make your hips twitch. You bite down on your lower lip, trying to stifle the soft sound that threatens to escape.

Then his finger presses inside of you, and your back arches off the cage floor. You're no stranger to this part of you being stretched, not when you've already given birth to eggs, bugs, and slimes, but this feels different, somehow. Maybe it's the way he's watching you so intently, or maybe it's the mystery of having no idea what's gestating in your womb. Whatever it is, it makes your pulse pick up like the beat of a drum, your chest rising and falling with shallow, panting breaths. 

You lie there as he works his finger deeper, the slick glide smooth and unhurried. It's a tight fit—you're not built to take something this big, and the Researcher knows it, but the knowledge doesn't seem to slow him down. Your body clenches instinctively around his fingertip, and he hums softly with a sound that might be approval. His other hand shifts to your hip, holding your body steady as he starts to move with more confidence. In and out, each thrust as deliberate and measured as the next.

Sensation builds quickly, causing heat to pool low in your belly. You can feel every wrinkle of the strange white glove he wears, every subtle shift of his finger as it drives and curls inside of you. Your maimed wings quiver at your back, a telltale sign of your growing arousal, and you can't stop the small moan that slips past your lips.

"Good," he murmurs again, his voice a low rumble that's unlike any your kind makes. "You're taking me so well."

The Researcher's pace quickens slightly, the rhythm of his thrusts becoming more insistent. Your hands tangle in the fabric that covers the floor of your cage, your knuckles turning white as you tighten your grip, pleasure coiling within you like a spring. His fingertip nudges against a particularly sensitive spot that makes you gasp, and your hips buck wantonly against his hand.

"There it is," he says, almost to himself. You have no idea what he's looking for or what it does, but he seems to focus on that spot anyway with each precise, unrelenting movement, even if you can barely take him to the first knuckle. The pressure of your lust builds deep in your core until it's almost unbearable, your body trembling with the need for release.

"Please," you whisper, though you're not sure what exactly you're asking for. For more? Faster? Harder? For freedom from this near-torturous pleasure? 

He doesn't respond, but his finger doesn't stop either. He just keeps driving it into you, rocking your tiny body with the force of every shove. You're left staring sightlessly up at the ceiling of your cage, gasping, panting, whimpering, until finally, the tension just snaps.

You cry out, feeling an orgasm quake through your body and shake you to your very foundations. Convulsing, your cunt clenches around his finger like a vise.

The Researcher keeps moving through it, drawing out your orgasm until you're shaking and mewling with overstimulation. Only then does he withdraw the digit from your well-fucked hole, the sudden emptiness making you sob. Your vision wavers as you watch him step back, peeling off the glove with a practiced motion and tossing it away.

"That was adequate, at least for now," he says, reaching for the board and paper again. "We'll continue further preparations tomorrow."

You don't have the energy to respond. Your body feels heavy, your mind a haze of exhaustion and lingering pleasure. But as the Researcher's footsteps fade, you can't help but wonder what he might have in store for you next.

"–wake up."

No. You just want to sleep. You have just enough freedom of movement to sort of curl up around your increasingly ungainly abdomen, yawning and trying to ignore the voice. 

It's been so hard to sleep lately as the offspring in your womb continues to grow. You've never seen a pregnant fairy get as large as you are before; your belly is far too massive to allow you to move with any ease. But with your offspring's increased size comes more activity. It started out as faint flutters, like tiny butterflies flying around in your stomach. Now, every time whatever you're carrying shifts or kicks, it's enough to shake your whole body. 

"Specimen 4582 has reached the thirtieth week of gestation. The hybrid fetus remains active and seemingly healthy. A recent ultrasound shows that the fetus is approximately the size of a cantaloupe and could weigh as much as a pound, which is impressive considering that the pre-pregnancy weight of Specimen 4582 was recorded at approximately eight pounds."

You crack your eyes open to peek at your belly. You have no idea what a cantaloupe is, but it must be enormous. 

As you watch, the hot, red skin of your abdomen starts to ripple and contort. You stare in hazy fascination while the life within you shifts—a new being gestating within your body like you're little more than a fleshy sack. 

The thought should probably bother you more than it does. 

"In order to make the pregnancy more… tolerable for the subject, I have been administering a daily dose of a synthetic methamphetamine to stimulate their libido upon waking, as well as a daily tocolytic to prevent pre-term labor. So far, there have been no negative side effects." 

There's a faint pinch and then a sting in your arm. You grumble, wishing he'd not bother you with his senseless babble or by filling you with medicine when you're so tired, but you know better than to move until the needle slides free.

The offspring inside of you jolts and starts to squirm like it's been energized by whatever he's pushed into your veins. Wide-eyed, all you can do is gape at the sight of your skin as it starts to stretch and expand around spindly limbs. Your belly shudders like it has a mind of its own, clearly agitated. Not for the first time, you wonder what they've put inside of you. 

But the contents of your womb are not all that the medicine stimulates.

The Researcher's voice drones on as liquid heat starts to spread through your gravid form. It's subtle at first, almost something you can ignore, but it flares brighter and hotter with each passing minute. It's getting harder to breathe, your breath coming in short, heavy pants, and an unnatural flush feels like it's on the cusp of setting your skin afire. 

But it's nothing compared to the ember of lust that bursts to life between your thighs. 

The background noise dies out, and the next thing you know, the Researcher's voice is much closer. "Oh, you poor thing," he whispers in a syrupy-sweet voice as he strokes your writhing abdomen. "My apologies for leaving you in such a state. Let me fix that." 

Between the restraints and the massive size of your pregnant belly, there's not much you can do to avoid his attention, even if you want to. You're suspended in a medical hammock that cradles your ever-growing form without forcing you to lie flat, your legs and feet dangling free while your useless wings hang limp. The device puts you roughly at the same level as his belt buckle, a fact that doesn't mean much to you until you realize that he's opening the front of his pants to dip a hand inside. 

Oh.

Your mouth falls open in wonder as you watch him free his cock and begin to stroke it, the flesh gradually beginning to plump and rise before your gaze. It's just as huge as the rest of him, and you know for a fact that there's no place in your body where that could possibly fit. 

Gods. It's a good thing it can't fit, too, because otherwise, he might be able to plant his seed in your belly and get you pregnant. The possibility is horrifying. 

There's no way you can carry a human child!

"Don't worry, little one, I'm not going to pierce you with this, no matter how much we'd both like that," he chuckles, completely ignorant of your growing panic. "Unfortunately, you're just too small for such things right now. But that doesn't mean that I can't help you in other ways." 

He slides a crooked finger up along the cleft between your legs, gathering the fluids that have already begun to leak out of you on the tip of his finger. It's just enough of a touch to steal your breath and make your back arch as you let out a high-pitched whimper. 

Your mind isn't sure that it wants this, but your body sure as hells does. 

"That's right, just relax." The swell of your wriggling belly blocks you from seeing most of his movements, but it doesn't do anything to stop the pleasure that's starting to curl in your core. The Researcher's fingertip circles around the straining nub of your dick, making it rise eagerly from its nest among your folds. "We both know how much of an insatiable little thing you are when your womb is full, and it's going to help you feel so much better if you let me take care of you."

You don't understand why this is happening, why your body reacts so intensely, why this alien touch makes you feel so good, but it does. Curling your fists over the straps that keep the hammock suspended, you can't stop your hips from canting up to meet the pressure and grinding into his finger, not any more than you can stop the hiccuping mewl of pleasure that it wrings out of you. 

"Good boy," the Researcher says, helping himself to a fresh batch of slick before his strokes begin moving faster and with more focus. 

It's… it's too much. The heat blazing through your body burns with a fury that wipes your mind of any coherent thought. All you are in this moment is a being of lust whose fires are being stoked out of control. You writhe and cry out, needing more, harder, inside–

"Let's hear you come for me."

You hear his words, and you feel his finger slide into you and drive deep, and you shatter into stardust.

All you can do in the wake of your orgasm is hang there and gasp frantically for breath as he rubs his hard shaft against your belly, until your skin is painted with something warm and wet.

Sleep is fitful when it comes these days. 

You feel like you're constantly hovering in a state of semi-lucidity, spending more time dozing than you do awake. And even your waking hours remain hazy, shadowed by the inexplicable lust that seems to dog your every moment. 

Someone is talking. There's a familiar pinch. You struggle back to awareness.

"Specimen 4582 has reached the thirty-third week of gestation. The health and activity levels of the hybrid fetus remain within the expected parameters. Yesterday's ultrasound showed that the fetus has grown to roughly the size of a head of cauliflower."

A warm palm comes to rest against your abdomen, curling appraisingly over the tight dome. A thumb rubs almost affectionately over the stretch marks littering your once-pristine skin before circling the bulge of your popped navel. 

"While the restraints are no longer necessary due to the subject's size reaching a state that leaves them immobile, I have elected to continue using them, as well as the tocolytic, to reduce the symptoms of false or pre-term labor. I remind the board that it is imperative to my research that Specimen 4582 gestates their offspring for as close to the term of a normal homo sapiens pregnancy as possible."

The distended spheroid of your pregnant abdomen hangs heavily before you, every movement of your hybrid child visible through the veil of your skin. It's been stretched so tight at this point that it's practically translucent, a sheer, paper-thin layer of flesh decorated by a delicate network of blood vessels. When the light hits your skin the right way, you can see a dark shape shifting within—undoubtedly humanoid and very, very large. 

There's nothing 'normal' about your pregnancy.

But despite your apprehension, the heat at your core is rising again, twisting under your skin and leaving you squirming. It feels wrong, but you find yourself almost craving what you know will come next. 

"I have also decided to employ manual techniques to prepare the subject's body for the upcoming birth. Further details will be listed in my written reports."

His hand drifts lower, cupping momentarily beneath your overgrown belly before a finger nudges purposefully between your legs.

You barely even hesitate before pulling them further apart. 

Your body is clearly ready for him, if the slick dripping down your thighs is any indication. The tip of his finger is blunt but thick as it circles your opening, teasing, pressing lightly—just not nearly enough. Your feet and toes curl as you try to thrust your hips greedily toward his touch, as if you could somehow force the finger deeper out of sheer need. But unfortunately for you, you lack the strength necessary to shift the weight of your ponderous abdomen.

He's completely ignoring your dick right now, but you can feel the pulse of your heartbeat throbbing through the erect flesh. Gods, this isn't fair.

"Take it easy, little one," the Researcher gently murmurs, another muted push leaving you moaning in frustration. "Think of the baby."

But you can't think of the baby, not when every nerve ending in your body is screaming to feel him inside of you. You can't think about your captivity, or your strange compliance, or his broken promises of release. You can't think of anything but more and harder and now now now–

One hand grips you through the hammock, steadying your form, while a finger of the other finally plunges into you.

You howl.

It's big, almost too big, that foreign intrusion into your most secret place. But your desperate body still welcomes it in with a wet squelch and tries to swallow it whole. Your eyes roll back in your head, wide yet unseeing, every shred of your consciousness narrowing down on the single point of mind-melting lust between your legs. 

"That's good," the Researcher says, sliding his finger in to the second knuckle. "Look how well you take it."

It's not like you have a choice when your body burns and aches for it with a fervor that threatens to drive you mad. Half keening, half sobbing, you throw your head back and buck your hips as best you can under your abdomen's hefty weight, every bit the picture of mindless lasciviousness. 

Unperturbed by its parent's torment, the child in your womb turns and kicks, tenting your delicate skin over a not-so-tiny heel. It's strong enough to be uncomfortable, to even leave the overtaxed skin burning a little. 

The Researcher's finger crooks and hits something just right.

And just like that, you shatter again.

You're leaking.

Your chest aches from the burgeoning pressure of glands swollen with milk for a yet-unborn child, but every brush of your nipples sends a thrilling spark of pleasure through your body. 

"Specimen 4582 has reached the thirty-sixth week of gestation. The hybrid fetus shows no signs of health issues, and ultrasounds indicate it has reached approximately the size of a honeydew melon. While we are still a week away from the typical period when labor can be expected to begin, my estimations calculate that the fetus is taking up an increasingly high percentage of the subject's total body mass, so some symptoms of parturition may not be too far off."

Panting and squirming with need, you fondle your chest and let out a little hiss of relief when you manage to coax some of that liquid free. It spills over your fingers and down over your impossibly large belly, a pendulous mass that hangs heavily from your hips and swings with every movement. 

There's fluid between your legs, too, a mixture of your slippery natural lubricant and a faint dribble of the clear fluid that your womb is no longer able to hold inside. 

"I have employed additional straps to cradle the underside of the subject's abdomen in hopes of reducing some of the strain on their small frame. While the tocolytic continues to stave off labor, the unfortunate reality is that the subject's body is not intended to carry such a large offspring, and Specimen 4582 has been continuously leaking amniotic fluid for the past few days. We may have no choice but to bring this experiment to a close sooner rather than later."

You should probably be worried about the things he's saying, but it's impossible to think straight when the Researcher is slowly plunging two of his fingers in and out of your hungry cunt. 

Everything about you is drawn tight and stretched to the max, leaving you feeling like a balloon pumped full of too much air. But your belly isn't full of air—it's full of a living, wriggling baby that continues pushing your physical boundaries past what you think you can handle. 

It's only thanks to the Researcher's care that you've been able to make it this far. 

With his fingers in your cunt and his bare cock rubbing over the overstretched skin of your aching middle, the entirety of your existence is centered on the man's twisted attention. All you can focus on is the unbearable pressure—the weight of the offspring inside you, the hungry void between your legs, the way your chest dribbles with every shallow, gasping breath. 

The Researcher looms over you, your god as much as he is your tormentor. The fingers inside of you are still buried deep, curling and stretching you open, while he grips the base of his cock and drags it along the taut curve of your belly. "According to my observations, it appears that Specimen 4582 is amenable to participating in a more manual approach to the induction of amniorrhexis. I will therefore begin the process now, and continue my notes once the procedure has concluded."

You haven't a clue what he's talking about, with all of those long, nonsensical words, but you are very well aware of the pulsating emptiness that fills you when he slowly withdraws his fingers. You whimper, the sound escaping before you can stop it. The loss of him is nearly unbearable, at least until his fingers are almost immediately replaced with the blunt pressure of something much larger against your sopping hole. 

"You're ready," he says, his voice cool and detached, as if he's stating a fact rather than an observation. 

Your body instinctively protests, your cunt clenching around nothing as if it could possibly hope to deny him entry. But all of the conditioning the Researcher has been subjecting you to has done its work too well. Your hips twitch forward, seeking more of him despite the muddled fear inspired by his overwhelming size. He's massive compared to you, with a cock thicker than your arm, and the thought of him pushing that thing into you should be terrifying. 

Instead, it sends a jolt of delirious need straight through your core.

He doesn't wait for permission—not that he ever has, nor could you give it even if you wanted to. With a firm grip on your hip, he pushes forward, the head of his cock stretching you open in one slow, deliberate motion. 

The sensation makes you cry out, your back trying and failing to arch beneath the impossible weight of your belly while your body struggles to accommodate him. Even with the lubricant and his careful movements, the stretch is still excruciating, your inner walls burning as they're forced to yield to his unnaturally large girth. But buried beneath the pain is a deep, aching pleasure, the kind that makes your impaired wings flutter and your breath catch in your throat.

"Relax," he commands.

You want to argue, to tell him that your body is simply not built to take someone of his proportions, but the words die in your throat as he pushes deeper. Your cunt spasms around him, trying in vain to adjust, but he doesn't stop. Inch by excruciatingly slow inch, he fills you, until you can feel the sheer mass of him lodged in your torso. You can feel every ridge, every vein, as he stretches you to your limits and beyond.

Gods, if you weren't already obscenely pregnant, you'd probably be able to see his cock bulging right through the skin of your abdomen.

Once he's fully sheathed inside you, the Researcher pauses to give you a moment to adjust. But it's not enough. Your body already felt overloaded by the offspring in your womb. Adding his cock on top of that makes you feel like your middle might split like an overripe fruit. You pant, sucking frantic, heaving breaths through lungs that barely have the room they need to expand, the restricted oxygen leaving you lightheaded. And yet there's still a strange, satisfying sense of fullness that makes your head spin. 

Then he moves.

The Researcher's first thrust is slow, careful, but it nevertheless drives more of the limited air from your lungs. Your cunt clutches at him, trying to hold on as he pulls back and pushes in again. The rhythm he sets is relentless, each stroke driving him deeper into you and making your enormous abdomen bounce hard enough to make you cry out in pain. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your ragged breathing and his occasional grunts, and the cage rattles as he fucks you with a precision that borders on heartless.

In the midst of it all, a visible bump rises just beneath your ribs, pushing out against the skin and slowly dragging along the dome of your stomach before vanishing. Then comes another shift, a hard, sudden jolt from the inside that leaves your flesh rippling, the curve distorting, like a wave rolling from one side to the other. A knee or an elbow –or some stubborn, unknown part– presses out and doesn't ease up, giving your womb a full-on shove. It's a slow, grinding push, as if the baby is stretching as far as possible in both directions at once, testing the boundaries of its prison. 

The ache is enough to leave you gasping. You're not sure how much more of this abuse your belly can take.

Still, the pleasure of being fucked builds quickly and distracts you from the pain, a coil tightening in your belly with every movement. The aphrodisiac amplifies every sensation, making it impossible to think of anything but the way he fills you, the way his cock rubs against that spot inside you that makes your vision blur. Your legs tremble, your toes curling as the tension in your body grows unbearable. Your hobbled wings shudder and twitch beneath you in anticipation of the rapture to come.

"You're close," he observes, his voice calm and clinical even as he fucks you with a ferocity that is far too much for a being of your size, the force of it leaving you gasping. "Good. Let it happen. Your body knows what to do."

You don't have a choice. 

The orgasm crashes over you without warning, your body convulsing as pleasure rips through you. Your cunt clenches around him, milking his cock as waves of ecstasy wash away your thoughts. You scream, the sound raw and unfiltered, as your body betrays you completely.

But he doesn't stop. If anything, he fucks you harder, driving into you with a fervor that makes your vision go white around the edges. The overstimulation is almost too much to bear, but you can't fight it. Your body responds eagerly, chasing the pleasure despite the pain.

And then it happens.

Your cunt gushes with liquid warmth, far too much for what you've just done. But rather than be deterred by it, the Researcher simply punches even further into your battered body and shudders, adding his own seed to the mess leaking out of you.

It's only then that he pauses to observe you, panting softly. "There you are," he murmurs, his fingers brushing over the swollen mass of your stomach, which has begun to tighten and clench in a way it never has before. "It seems that the procedure was successful."

You barely hear him. Your body is still trembling, your mind clouded by orgasm and exhaustion. But somewhere in the haze, a new kind of panic begins to set in. 

The baby is finally coming.

You just don't know what will happen now.

"Don't worry, little one," the Researcher says with a smile that's almost warm. "I promise I'll take care of you."

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[moaningthroughthepain]

"Don't cum." I told him, desperate to finish. I felt so stupid for letting him talk me into not using a condom. This was so dangerous, but I needed to peak before we stopped so badly. "I'm trying... It's hard to fight it..." He grunted, and I could feel through the way his dick was twitching and throbbing inside me he was telling the truth.

"I mean it, don't cum!" I panted, wrapping my legs around him. I was so close, just a bit more... "Gah, it hurts!" He grunted, his whole body trembling as he fought his body's most base, primal instinct.

"Don't you fucking dare cum inside me! I can't have your stupid baby right now!" I said, throwing my head back, my plea trailing off into an utterly satisfied cry of release. It felt so good, I barely even heard him go "Ngh! F-fuck, no! I can't! It's coming out! Babe it's coming out of me right now!!!"

Spurt. Spurt. I felt it slamming into my deepest point, and that only made it feel better. I was so scared, but it made me cum even harder, knowing he'd failed, feeling him dig his fingers into my hips and pull himself in me as hard as he could.

It would be fine, I tried to tell myself, laying there, his seed oozing out of my most vulnerable place. It would be just fine, I wouldn't have to have a baby from this. I couldn't handle being pregnant right now, I hoped my body wouldn't let it take...

)----------

"Don't push." I told her, watching her in the passenger's seat, still wearing her sweatpants and shirt. Her belly was so huge with our little accident, and I still felt so guilty for what I did. But she was amazing like this, so beautiful, so powerful, even if this baby had made her miserable. "I'm trying... It's... S-so hard to fight it... Have to actively... R-resist the urge..." She grunted, clutching her thighs, trying to hold her legs together even though she clearly needed release.

"I mean it, don't push!" I managed, struggling to keep my voice steady. I could see how close she was, how much her body was straining. "Ungh... It HURTS!" She moaned, her thighs parting involuntarily. Her whole body trembled as she fought her most base, primal instinct.

"You have to fight it! If you give in even a little, this baby will come right here in the car! You said you didn't want that!" I secretly hoped for it, had delayed us leaving maybe a bit more than was reasonable, until she was complaining about intense, overwhelming pressure in her hips, said she could almost feel how thin and open she was inside. Was saying she almost felt like she needed to use the bathroom. Then and only then did I find the last thing we needed and headed to the car. She threw her head back, a desperate cry of pain and release escaping her as she bellowed "NGH! F-fuck, NO! I CAN'T! It's coming out! BABE, YOUR STUPID BABY, IT'S COMING OUT OF ME RIGHT NOW!!!"

There was a spurt of fluid, and the crotch of her pants became absolutely soaked. She screamed with effort, and I watched her pants bulge... More... Until with a beautiful sound of fluids pouring from her, the entire baby slid into her pants and panties, one big, desperate push after fighting with everything she had for so long sending our accident launching into the world.

"It'll be fine..." I told her, rubbing her leg as she looked down at the muffled crying coming from her ruined sweats. "I know you had to drop out, and we're struggling a bit. But we'll figure this out. You'll recover, it won't be a big deal. I promise." She just shook her head, let out a water "can't believe you did this to me... Fuck..." As she tried to force herself to pick up our newborn oopsie...

[moaningthroughthepain]

Freshman Recap Pt. 7

 I'm not proud of my decisions and how I handled things with Blake. I wasn’t lying when I said I couldn’t be with him. I didn’t deserve him. After that weekend, I became distant. I stopped going to that class, attendance was optional anyways. I helped do the project from a distance, and once it was over, I stopped texting him. I started skipping a lot of my classes, actually. 

But I wasn’t using that time to study or to catch up. Again, I’m not proud of my decisions. Instead, I was hooking up with guy after guy, exploiting the situation I was in. On apps, I made sure to advertise that I was pregnant. You’d be surprised how many guys are into someone who is knocked up AND a dude. It was easier than ever to get laid. The bigger my belly grew, the more attention I got on there. More messages, even a few begging with money. 

I usually ignored the money requests. I wasn’t a prostitute. However, this guy was insistent.

>thats nice but i dont do that, just here for hook ups, not sex work :p

>It’s not sex work… I’m not paying you for sex…

>you offered money, and then talked about sex. seems like sex work

>No, I’m offering money and sex. Different things… We have sex and I’m also giving you a gift.

>then why the gift? like i said, im flattered but I dont want this to get messy.

>This is all a secret for me… The money just gives you an incentive to not talk…

>so hush money? i wouldn’t talk about my hookups anyways…

I ignored the guy for a minute, but I kept thinking about everything. I was in college. I did need money. And I was knocked up, that’s gotta cost something too. 

>ok fine. i’ll take gift and we can hook up, two separate things

>Good... I’m at 408 Main St, Suite 10116... When you get to the front desk, just tell them you’re a Media Volunteer for Henry. Can’t wait to see you…

I’ll admit, I thought the request was odd, but I was in no position to question much. When I got to the address, I understood the hush money. It was city hall. I kept my head down and walked up the stairs. I was wearing a baggy hoodie, trying by best to hide my belly, but that was getting harder by the day. Even when I slouched in my baggiest hoodie, my belly popped through at least a little bit. I prayed everyone just thought I was a fat dude.

I got to the front desk and was greeted by a woman with black hair and glasses. 

“How can I help you?”

“Oh, I’m a Media Volunteer here for Henry?”

She smacked her gum as she looked me up and down. The lady shook her head and printed out a sticker and handed it to me. 

“What, they don’t teach you to wear professional clothes in your journalism class?” 

I blushed. I didn’t think about blending in, just hiding my stomach.

“Top floor, 3 room from the right. Elevator is to your left.”

I slapped on the volunteer sticker and headed that direction. My heart didn’t race before hookups anymore. They just felt like part of the day. I got to the floor, headed to the room, and knocked. The hallway was fancy, small busts and statues laid around. The door opened.

I was greeted by Henry, a tall, older man with big hands. He looked like anyone’s grandpa. On his desk, there was a sign that read “City Administrator.” He put a hand in my back and guided me. He closed and locked the door. 

“Nice office, huh?” He smiled at me. I nodded back. I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to get it over with, not cause he was old, but this felt dirtier than I was used to. Scratch that— I fucked Blake in a bathroom. I have no room to speak. He chuckled at my silence. 

“We can skip the small talk, I have a meeting at 2, let me feel my boy,” Henry purred as he got closer. He rested his hands on my belly and I felt it react. His grin grew very wide. His hands were huge enough to cover one whole side of my stomach. 

“How far along are you?”

“Uhm, like six months I think?”

“You don’t know? Who’s the dad?”

“Some guy I hooked up with a while ago, and I’m not exactly keeping up with everything, it just happened…”

“Mmm,” Henry nodded in acknowledgment, though something in his voice sounded excited. He continued to rub my belly.

“You couldn’t help getting knocked up, could you, boy?” Henry mumbled. I was blushing hard. My face felt hot, I didn’t know what to say. I stuttered a few things before he hushed me.

“I know exactly what happened. It felt to good. You gave in to your nature. And now look at you, swollen with someone’s baby,” Henry shook his head. His hand wandered to the waist band of my pants and tugged. “It’s shame, you must’ve had a whole life ahead of you, and now you’re just some knocked up boy looking for the same thing that got you here.”

He hand reached between my legs, which was already soaking. Henry’s smile grew more wicked. “This excites you, huh? Knowing you’re just something to get bred?” 

I bit my lip as he massaged my bottom growth. Henry then suddenly grabbed me and shoved me into his desk, bending me over and pull my pants completely down. I heard him undo his pants behind me. He leaned over and growled into my ear.

“Someone may have claimed you when they left that baby in you, but right now you’re mine and only mine.”

Henry shoved his cock into me. He grabbed my hair and pulled it back before he started pounding into me. His cock felt amazing, it was thick and filled me wall to wall. All I could do was let out stifled noises as I felt him ram into me. I wanted to beg, but I couldn’t get anything out.

Then there was a knock. Henry pulled out and scrambled. 

“They’re here early, get under the desk!” He directed. We both got dressed and I hid.

Two older gentlemen walked inside. Henry sat at his desk with the other two men across from him. They talked about boring city things, and then a few homophobic comments about one of the other staff members. That’s why he wanted the hush money. 

I don’t know why I did this next part. I think I just wanted to fuck with someone who was so desperate to keep his name “untarnished” by being gay, that he would pay me. I started to unzip his pants beneath the desk. Henry stuttered for a second before continuing his comments. I licked his shaft as I made my way up to the tip. I cradled it and massaged it in my mouth. I heard him get quieter and quieter in the discussion as I continued. I reached down into my pants and started to touch myself. 

I worked his cock into my mouth as I massaged my wet cunt. I softly grinded against my hand, making sure to lightly take his legs with my belly as I did so so he knew what I was doing. I felt his cock twitch in my mouth. He was getting closer. I took all of him into my mouth and picked up speed in my grinding and in my sucking. Right in the middle of his sentence, I felt him release into my throat. He cut himself off and cleared his throat. As his cum shot down my throat, my own orgasm followed. It took everything not to whimper. 

The men left and it was just us. He pulled me out from under his desk. Henry grabbed my face. He looked mad.

“You are just a fucking slut. You almost ruined everything! You have no idea what could have happened!” He yelled at me. I was scared. He grabbed me again and threw me onto his lap. 

Then he smacked me. On my ass. Over and over until my cheeks were red. 

“You’re just a stupid fucking pregnant bitch,” he muttered as he spanked me. “Useless fucking slut!” Then his hand wandered between my cunt, feeling how much wetter it got from the abuse, he shoved his fingers deep inside. He then began to finger fuck me, roughly. Henry’s other hand covered my mouth as I drooled all over him, letting out weak, uncontrollable moans. 

“You really are just a slave to you nature, are you?” Henry smiled. Tears formed in my eyes from the pleasure.

“Please,” I whimpered.

“Please, what?” Henry replied.

“Please, daddy,” I begged. I needed him to make me cum. And just like that, he drilled into me faster than before. The pleasure ripped through my body. I curled into his lap as the orgasm took over me. Henry looked down at me, sternly.

“I punish boys like you all the time. Be careful, cause once this baby is out, if you step foot in here, I promise I’ll put another one inside you. Because that’s what slutty boys like you get, that’s all you’re good for.”

[moaningthroughthepain]

Primal Pregnancy

Imagine you’re a cavewoman. You’re pregnant but you don’t know it. You had an encounter while on the search for food with a caveman you never saw. You’re not sure what occurred, only that it felt good when it happened. You try to recreate it best you can by yourself, but it isn’t the same. Your group was shortly attacked after that. There were only 3 of you left, but after a storm, it’s just you.

You’ve grown heavier in the last several months and your belly has expanded an incredible amount. It’s gotten difficult to scavenge for food, but you must do anything to satiate that hunger that’s only gotten worse. You fend off best you can, but it’s grown more difficult as your belly grows. Your breasts have gotten heavy and leak from time to time. You don’t understand why your body is changing, you can only accept it.

Today was different. It was difficult. Pain constantly bore down on you. As you dug through bushes, you were brought to your knees by this growing pain. It squeezes you. You start to worry that the berries you have eaten were inedible. Poisonous. You try to walk back to your cave but the pain keeps coming. Eventually, you’re crawling. The waves of pain are becoming more constant. You grunt and you heave trying to just get back to safety. Suddenly, something explodes inside you. Liquid rushes out of you like an overripe fruit. You fall over in shock and look down at the mess. The dirt is wet beneath your legs and this fluid coats your inner thighs. You start panicking. Did you belly pop? Was all of the growing just water? Will it finally drain and you can hunt like normal again?

Your thoughts are cut off by another, stronger, squeezing pain. You start to scream. You can see your cave, it isn’t too far. You claw your way across the ground to the base of your cave, but that’s as far as you can go. The pain is too much. Your body begins to bear down on you. You start to push involuntary, it’s like a snake is wrapped around your pelvis forcing you to squeeze out all that’s in you. The pain is indescribably. There is a pressure that’s increasing within you and it feels like something large is traveling down your insides. You’re stuck in this state of pushing and screaming. Then the burning. This stinging feeling floods between your legs. You frantically reach down, believe yourself to be dying, you’re being teared open now. You feel your cunt has expanded, and there is something lodged with it. You cry as the object forces its way down, expanding you further. Your legs kick around, as if you could try to run away from this pain.

Finally, enough has come out that you can try to dislodge whatever is inside you. You grab it firmly and pull to no avail. You have to push. Defeated, you crawl onto your stomach in an animal like position, the pain was a little more tolerable like this than when you were on your back. You lower your upper body with your hind in the air. The pushing is easier and the obstruction moves down faster. With one final scream, one final push, you use all of your power to bore down one more time. Something slides out of you and falls to the floor with a thud.

After a choke and a cough, it starts to cry. You fall to your side and frantically look down. There is a baby. You had seen one in passing, but not in your group. But you made one. You watch the baby as it cries and coos for you. Maybe if your group was here, this could be okay, but it’s just you now. You don’t know what to do.

[moaningthroughthepain]

https://drive.google.com/drive/mobile/folders/0B-CNgx8Envv4NWczTmFLNkhSTEU/1HDrj1YjiWsy-XP-HqrycC0o_JPO_ru9G?sort=13&direction=a

She struggles so much; she ends up needing two people to help stretch her during crowning. Big belly and good view of the birth. Wow

[moaningthroughthepain]

God portal pussies though.... my boyfriend hooks one up to link to me for some teasing and it's all fun and games until the conversation turns during game night. One of his friends has been curious, and wondering if they're really worth the hype. So my boyfriend obviously offers to bring his out and let his buddies inspect it.

They have no idea I'm trans, and there's people who make money by renting their holes out, so there's no reason for them to think it's me they're fingering. I have to keep my cool while the toy is passed around and everyone talks about how nice and tight the pussy is, and what a slut the girl it's connected to must be. Because why would they ever assume a guy has a pussy?

I take the first chance I get to excuse myself and hide in the bathroom, but that was my biggest mistake. In my absence my boyfriend reveals who the toy is really connected to, offers to let his buddies fuck me. Which they do. And when they're done they start stuffing the toy with whatever they can find, all the while I'm in the bathroom, trying not to make a noise as I cum over and over from the abuse. I completely miss when my boyfriend offers to let his buddies hook their portal pussies up to me, and this demonstration and certainly convinced them to buy their own.

[moaningthroughthepain]

Werewolf boyfriend breeding you in your sleep.

The scent of your arousal coaxes him awake, blinking into consciousness with his snout resting atop your head as he softly squeezes your body which his arms have encaged against his. He noses your hair, breathing in deeply.

So fucking good.

You always smell great to him, but something about this is new. His hold around you tightens, pressing you closer to his chest. He doesn’t know when his hips began rutting slightly upwards into you, grinding his bare cock against your ass as it swells from its sheath. His hand seems to move with its own will, trailing down your body until he feels your wetness coating his digits and clinging to his fur. A sleepy, appreciative sigh leaves your parted lips at the contact.

How are you already this wet, little love?

His chest begins to rise and fall heavily, fanning warm huffs of air over your sleeping face. You look so peaceful. Free of this world, your mind was elsewhere and your body was left here with him. His to protect and to care for. His. Before he can think better of it, he’s slipping a finger into you, whimpering at the way your soft warmth takes him in.

You recently confessed your long-held fantasy about a scenario similar to the one currently playing out in your bed. He had asked for a bit of time to get used to the idea and you agreed excitedly, leaning in to tell him he can let you know when he’s ready by having you wake up covered in his cum. He’d sensed your sexual frustration building over the days.

Truthfully, he feels a bit embarrassed by what this is doing to him. Having you pliant and vulnerable to use as he pleases. He always makes sure to be careful with you, putting your pleasure before his own. He knows what it means for you to be with him and he isn’t sure how he would feel if you saw him like this: helplessly driven on by your scent, lapping the juices from his finger with a low growl before sinking it slowly back into your dripping cunt.

Not wanting to wake you, he watches your expression with half-lidded eyes as he pushes another digit into your entrance, carefully stretching you. Your brows turn up and your mouth falls slack, blissed out from whatever you’re dreaming while both his fingers curl up into you. He takes his time, completely hypnotized by the sight of you opening up just for him, taking everything he gives, loving the feeling of your wetness soaking into his fur. Your cunt squeezes around his fingers so sweetly. You nearly send him into an early rut when you start grinding your clit against his palm, easy breaths becoming labored as you unconsciously fuck yourself on his hand.

He can’t help it. He presses every bit of himself to you that he can, lining his dick up at your entrance. He needs more of you, needs to feel you, needs to be closer.

He slowly enters you with his length — inch by tortuous inch — until the knot near the base of his shaft nestles against you.

He tells himself he isn’t going to fuck you like this. It would be too selfish of him. He wants to be so good for you. He wants to see your eyes rolling when he's pounding into that spot that makes your speech slur, wants to tell you how perfect your pussy feels choking his knot and milking him for everything he's worth when he finally lets himself enter you completely.

You stir slightly, hips rolling in languid circles as you sigh contentedly and adjust your position. Just a few small movements have him gripping at the bedsheets and hoping you won't be too upset about having to replace them for a second time this month.

You're moving again, shifting back into him and securing your heat even more tightly against his knot. The friction elicits a loud groan from your lover.

Oh. Fuck.

Even like this, you’re acting so needy for him. Nose trailing up the back of your neck, held flush to the skin, breathing in your overwhelming scent again and again. It’s far too much. He grasps your hips and presses himself into you with a snarl.

Oh god. You smell like his fucking mate. It can't be his rut, the timing is way off. It's you.

Weeks worth of sex spent training you to take his full length and the stretch of his knot, cumming in you over and over to prepare your womb for his pups. As predicted, his little human took some time to adjust to the anatomy of their werewolf partner. However, he wasn’t expecting to be woken in the night by your empty cunt begging to be filled by him.

He has to hold himself back from fucking you awake when you start whining softly at his knot nudging your entrance, growling lowly as your wetness begins to cover the bulge at his base. All resolve dissipates with the realization that you crave him the same way he craves you. You were ready to be bred. To be his.

One arm encircles your middle, cradling you against his chest while the other keeps its  grip on your hip for leverage as he ruts into you. Your soft moans of pleasure intensify as he fucks you in a hurried rhythm.

You start to wake, surrounded by soft fur and dripping over your boyfriend’s cock. He knows he’s getting close when he feels himself throbbing inside of you as you curl your fingers into his fur and say his name with a sleepy, blissful sigh.

You’re so ready to be bred by him. He feels it in the way you clench around his cock, hears it when his knot bullies your entrance with every thrust - smacking and sucking against your wetness.

“Need to breed you. Just need to breed you.” 

He feels your cunt squeeze his cock in response. He cums hard with a brutal thrust, losing himself a bit as he empties his seed into you. A wide tongue leaves several drooling kisses over your cheek as the two of you share the post-sex warmth.

He looks down at his cum starting to spill out of you and whimpers pathetically, rubbing his muzzle along your jaw as you take careful, shaky breaths. You turn your worried gaze over your shoulder, searching for clues as to his distress. He thrusts into you once with a bit of force, panting as his knot pummels into you and rests halfway buried in your cunt.

“Please, I can’t. I-I mean — Fuck, baby I have to make sure it takes.”

Your cries are muffled as he presses you into the pillows and begins lapping at the back of your neck. “My love. My mate,” he pants out between licks, the feeling of his tongue soothing you through the sensation of being stuffed so much fuller than you ever thought you could take. He pulls your ass flush with his body as he forces his knot inside.

“Have to give you my pups. Make you so full.”

He bites down on the back of your neck and holds you there in his teeth as he empties more cum into you, fucking it deep. He needs to pound his cum into you until you’re pregnant, not stopping until he smells the change in your body and every bit of you reeks of him.

He has you cumming hard on his knot, still moving his hips back and forth desperately trying to keep fucking into you despite the snug fit of his knot filling you. His teeth leave your neck, but he doesn’t let up in his movements. He can feel you melting right back into honeyed pleasure when you come down and he wants to keep you right here, fuck you through orgasm after fo taking his cum so well. 

“Such a good little mate.”

Neither of you plan on returning to your dreams anytime soon. And you both agree your mate isn’t stopping even if hours of being bred do end up putting you back to sleep.

[moaningthroughthepain]

Spooky Season Day #22

Themes: Casual sex, implied alien sex, implied breeding, inhuman breeding

Fuck.

You really shouldn’t be doing this.

You’re not one for casual hookups, yet here you are, bent over the sink in your best friend’s bathroom while somebody pounds into you from behind. Thanks to this stupid Halloween party, their identity is a complete mystery to you; their face is hidden behind the full-head mask of a gray alien, while a billowing costume robe of purple and green obscures their body. But the shaft pumping inside of your greedy hole feels too good for you to care terribly much.

You should be embarrassed, watching yourself in the mirror like this. Your mouth hangs open as you pant, whimpering and moaning for more of the thick cock that’s annihilating your sense of reason. The hem of your pure white tunic was tossed around your waist for easy access, exposing the curve of your bottom to view, while the wings of your angel costume bounce with every thrust. Who knows where the halo went.

You can’t see where the two of you join from this angle, but it’s so, so hard to care when they’re on the verge of blowing your mind.

You feel a tell-tale shift in their rhythm that makes you think they’re about to come, but they don’t say anything. You try to remember if they put on a condom like you asked, but you can’t remember. Between the drinks and the mind-blowing sex, you have trouble recalling if it’s a safe time of the month. But there’s always Plan B, right? You really, really don’t want to ruin the mood with questions right now, not when you’re so close.

They grab your hips with a pair of surprisingly detailed three-fingered hands and yank you back, burying their cock to the hilt. And despite the absurdity of the situation, it’s just enough to send you spiraling over the edge.

You’re spent and drooling atop the cool marble countertop when your thoughts finally start to reassemble themselves. The person in the alien costume is still pressed snuggly against you from behind, lightly grinding and grunting in obvious pleasure, and it takes you a moment to realize that they’re still coming.

“What the…?”

A noticeable heat is spreading through your belly, and the thick shaft sheathed in your body feels like it’s… pulsing. There’s a weight and a pressure inside of you that wasn’t there before, like you’re being filled, but that doesn’t make any sense. Neither does the muted flutter from deep inside, the faintest of movements you can’t quite place.

You moan, halfheartedly shifting as though to pull away, but your thoughts are wrapped in cotton and bliss. You have no idea what’s happening, but you’re not sure you want this to end.

(A Spooky Season Pregnancy story.)

Tip Jar ✨ My Pregnancy Writing ✨ Commissions

[moaningthroughthepain]

A little laboring 🫣 volume up for lil groans and huffs (they/he, not a girl)

I have an EMS unit hooked up to my belly, and it's set on an interval to imitate contractions (which means contractions catch me off guard lol). This is on the lower end, it gets so much stronger 🫄

Would anyone like to see more? 👀

[moaningthroughthepain]

by ace-slut

finally recorded myself with my new toys. one vibrator inside me and one on my tdick. i had to cover my mouth when i came to keep quiet

[moaningthroughthepain]

as you transition you become much closer with male friends. they’re genuinely encouraging and supportive. one day, one of them invites you over to smoke and play video games. as you both get progressively higher, he starts asking you questions about how your transition is going. you enthuse about how at home you feel in your body and how free you feel after getting top surgery. he blushes a bit and stumbles over his words as he asks you about getting “everything done” surgery wise. you admit that you’ve considered it, but you’re very happy with your tdick. he stares at you blankly, he has no idea what that is. in your drug induced haze, you smirk and offer to show him. you lie back on the couch and pull down your boxers and open your legs, allowing him to inspect you. he giggles and his face goes even redder, but he lowers himself between your legs to get a good look at your cock and your cunt. he even pokes and prods a bit, watching the way your cock twitches to life. there’s a moment where you wonder if he’s gonna put his fingers inside of you or put his mouth on you, but he doesn’t. his curiosity seems to be genuine and you find it kinda endearing.

at some point you must have fallen asleep, because you wake up on the couch late in the night. you’re still totally out of it, but you feel comforted by a heavy warmth on top of you. you come to and quickly realize that your friend is asleep on top of you and holding you in his arms, you’d be disturbed if you didn’t trust him so much, it’s actually sort of sweet. at least until you realize that you’re still naked from the waist down. you try to squirm away to grab your clothes, but he holds you closer and shifts against you in his sleep. you feel something between your legs and look down to see that he’s hard in his boxers. he makes a soft noise and starts moving against you. you figure he must be having a wet dream. he gently rocks back and forth against your bare cunt and you blush as you feel yourself getting wet. you again try to move away but you only succeed in shifting his boxers so now his cock is peaking thru the front of them. god, he’s so hard. you hear him let out a satisfied groan as his raw cock rubs up against your wet pussy. you try to stifle your own moan as you feel the tip of his cock against your entrance, almost slipping in. he continues thrusting against you for a while until he starts breathing heavier and moving faster. he’s getting close, oh fuck, you’ve really got to stop this now. you make one last attempt to get away without waking him up, but he suddenly drives his hips forward and you feel the head of his cock slide into your unprotected pussy. you instantly freeze. he’s so big! his instincts take over and he drives himself even deeper into you, pushing the entirety of his cock inside of you, all the way up to your womb. it feels unbelievable. he continues thrusting into you at a fast pace and you feel him throbbing in you. he’s fucking you. god, what do you do? this is so fucking wrong, but it feels so good. you feel his cock start to twitch like crazy inside of you. fuck, he’s really about to cum! what the hell, you figure you may at least enjoy this while you still can. you reach your hand to your tdick and start quickly jerking yourself off. with one final deep thrust he’s moaning into the crook of your neck as he pumps his seed into you. your eyes roll back in your head in ecstasy as the feeling of his sperm flooding your womb pushes you over the edge of your own orgasm. you lie there satisfied as you feel his cum start to overflow your pussy. as his cock softens and slips out of you, you close your eyes, pretend to be asleep, and hope that when he wakes up, he’ll still be too high and you can pretend that you have no idea what or even if anything happened. little do you know he’s hoping the same thing…