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roundncontent · 5 months

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Potion Game

Base- alien

Add-ons- rapid pregnancy, orgasmic birth

Despite how straightforward this "experiment" seemed, it didn't do much to curb your nerves.

While you and the rest of the world were still reeling over the confirmation that humans most certainly were not alone in the universe, the government higher ups (who had apparently been privy to this fact for years) were already well into various negotiations and experiments with the extraterrestrials, such as the one you currently found yourself volunteered for.

You see, the other life that was out there was dwindling, much faster than they would like. So once it was revealed that our genetic makeup had even the possibility of compatibility, talks of crossbreeding soon followed.

Everyone stood to benefit, it seemed; they'd postpone their extinction, and humanity would have the chance to access even greater evolution. As for you, well...you'd just have to find out.

---

This brought you to now, sitting in a small observation room. To your relief it wasn't the metallic, brightly lit room you were dreading, but rather was lit by a dim, warm light. The aliens, which were surprisingly similar to the greys of pop culture, had made it clear that harsh lighting would disturb and potentially damage their offspring's eyes.

Your eyes flicked to the two way mirror on the wall facing you, where scientists of both species had already been monitoring you for a couple hours now, starting right when you'd been successfully inseminated. Mentally you ran through how the experiment would go, provided it went smoothly; you were to remain in the observation room for the entirety of your pregnancy, which if the aliens were to be believed would be blissfully short, three days to a week at most. You were also to give birth by yourself, they would only intervene if it seemed like things were going south. The reason for this was apparently so the experiment wouldn't be sullied by invasive methods from either side; simply put, the baby would dictate how it would be born. The last thing, something the translator had relayed with an interesting expression, was that this experience would be "far more pleasant than you would expect".

---

Ten hours in, the scientists in the next room watched as you repositioned yourself on the bed provided. The thin fabric of your hospital gown, which had been baggy on you that morning, was now stretched tightly over your newly swollen belly. Every now and then someone would come in to measure and photograph you, which you still found yourself being self conscious of every time.

To the untrained eye it looked like you were experiencing a normal pregnancy, except for a couple odd details. Your belly was flushed with a faint purple hue, which they had hypothesized was the fetus' blood mixing with yours in the placenta. The other detail was that you were sweating, but not with exertion or discomfort, far from it. That cryptic little hint from the translator turned out to be alluding to a natural chemical released by their hormones, which apparently induced an aphrodisiac effect in humans.

The scientists encouraged you to respond to any impulses or urges you felt, provided that it wouldn't harm you or the baby. While you were still very aware of being watched, the sensations became gradually impossible to ignore.

Three more hours went by and you'd shed the gown, sitting upright in the bed with your back supported by pillows. With one hand you cradled your belly, now visually comparable to a full term pregnancy, while your other was nestled between your spread legs, slick sounds hanging in the air as you sunk two fingers into yourself. Your thumb pressed and circled your swollen clit as you worked to bring yourself to yet another orgasm, having lost count of which one this was.

This one felt like it was going to be different, although you were too lost in the pleasure to voice this to them. Instead your fingers worked faster, your hips lifting as much as they could, and with a cry you finally felt the pressure come to a head as you came hard. An unfamiliar sensation washed over you, and your cheeks flushed as you felt a torrent of fluid gush out of you.

Panting softly you reached down to inspect it, finding your fingers coated with a slightly viscous violet liquid, what you assumed was your 'water'. It had definitely caught your off guard, considering you hadn't been experiencing conventional contractions. Gradually you realized that it was the intensifying pleasure that was leading up to your advancing labor, not pain.

Your heart raced as both you and the scientists realized that this was progressing much faster than they'd estimated; if things continued at this rate then you'd have experienced a full pregnancy and birth in under 24 hours. Before you could think about it any more you felt the odd pressure of your belly shifting, dropping as your alien baby began its descent.

Leaning back against your pillows you spread your legs wider, giving a clear view of the flushed lips of your cunt as you moaned through another pleasureful contraction. All shyness was fully out the window now, and you could think of nothing but just how wonderful it felt to give birth, the hormones doing their job perfectly. It wasn't long before you felt the urge to push, and you gave in without hesitation, the resulting orgasm making you squirt even more of the syrupy amniotic fluid.

In the adjacent room both groups of scientists were dutifully noting everything, some of them doing their best to ignore how much the sight and sound of your birthing was arousing them. This became more difficult as they watched you beginning to crown, the swollen lips of your cunt gradually stretching to accommodate a much larger head than it would with a human baby. Surely the aphrodisiac hormones was the aliens evolving an incentive for reproducing; one is more likely to want to give birth if it feels good, after all.

Back in the observation room you were panting heavily, voice hoarse from cumming so many times over the course of the day. You obeyed your body's urges and bore down hard, fluid leaking steadily out of you as you successfully pushed out the head. The overstimulation had you mewling desperately, and as good as this felt you were ready for it to come to an end. The hardest part was done, though, and a few more good pushes had the rest of the experiment slipping free from you.

A pair of scientists in protective gear swiftly entered, retrieving the baby before you could even ask about it. A twinge of sadness tugged at your heart, but you soon let it go. After all, now that the experiment was more or less successful, you suspected you'd have the chance to do this many more times.

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roundncontent · 9 months

Text

The Mirror

Hello, kang here again, long time no see! I've had this sitting in my drafts for a while and I finally just finished it yesterday, so here, enjoy.

***

Imagine you are a young trans man, and you work at an antique store. One day you receive a donation from an estate. There are a lot of very nice very old things, but one thing that catches your boss's attention, in particular, is a very large wall mirror that is almost as tall as you are. It has a wooden frame with intricately carved flowers and fruits wrapping around the sides, as well as worn gold detailing on the corners.

You get a weird, sort of dark vibe from it, and don't want to be anywhere near it. Your boss slaps a price tag on it and tells you to move it to the front of the store

Throughout the day whenever you are in front of the mirror you feel a strange warmth in your lower stomach. You tell your boss that you don't feel well and that you'd like to go home, he tells you to get back to work.

You weren't lying when you said you didn't feel well, the more you stand in front of the mirror the more nauseous you feel. Time goes on and you rush to the bathroom at the back of the building and empty what's left of your breakfast in the toilet.

Your boss tells you to suck it up.

After you throw up, the nausea goes away slightly, your stomach settling as time goes on. By lunchtime, you have periodically stood in front of the mirror for over three hours. And you are ravenous. You aren’t quite sure why, as the nausea from early seems to have made you a bit bloated, and you feel full, but you’re craving barbecue wings with ranch from the restaurant across the street and feel like you may actually die if you don’t get them. You order a large plate and an extra side of ranch and plow through all of it in about ten minutes. You feel even fuller than before, but that’s to be expected from a big lunch.

As you sit and wait out the last ten minutes of your break, you almost swear that you can see your stomach growing in front of you. Hesitantly you put your hand on it, feeling it swell under your fingers, slowly spreading them further apart as you grow. You jerk your hand away in disgust and fear.

You realize then, that the door to the break room is ajar, and through it, you see just the smallest sliver of the mirror and the reflection of the break room door therein.

A chill runs down your spine. Your stomach continues to swell.

You look like you’ve eaten several big meals back to back. You know this is not the case, as you threw up once today. You feel anxiety building up inside you in the form of gas bubbling in your stomach. You resist the urge to touch it.

Now that you are aware of the growth, you consciously feel it every time your belly slowly stretches outward. A regular-- a nice, but very talkative, old man --keeps you stuck in the mirror’s line of sight for nearly fifteen minutes. Your lower body is hidden behind some shelving, so he doesn’t see the way your stomach has grown, rounding out in front of you and pulling your shirt tight across your skin. You put on the sweatshirt that you had in the break room, and it hides your belly well enough. The bubbling (fluttering?) you felt continues and gets stronger.

Your boss puts you behind the counter for the remainder of your shift. You close tonight, and there’s no reason to keep you running around, he says before he leaves for the night. The mirror is directly across from you.

Your stomach swells.

Customers pay you no mind as they check out. The stool you’re sitting on puts your stomach below the counter, and out of sight. You look like you’ve swallowed a ball, and the flutters-- you hesitate to call them what they are --grow more infrequent, but more powerful as time goes on. You gasp as a particularly powerful movement hits you in the ribs. You rub your mound of a belly through your hoodie to try and soothe the sensation, only to be met with more flutters right against your palm.

You still grow.

By the time you need to lock the doors, you have to be at least the size of a third-trimester pregnant person, and the button of your jeans is digging uncomfortably into the underside of your belly. You waddle to the doors and waddle back behind the counter to count down the cash register. It’s difficult with your belly in the way.

When you are almost finished counting, your stomach drops, a weight settling heavily on your hips. You feel the first twinge of pain through your middle, and your heart sinks. The reality of your strange situation finally setting in.

A few more twinges zip across your stomach as you finish. You go to stand up again, but a strong cramp that ripples across your belly forces you to sit back down with a wheeze. You rub your hands all across it trying to soothe the pain, but it does little to help.

When the cramp finally stops, you heave yourself off the stool, grab the cash tray, and begin to waddle towards the office where the safe is to put the money away. You barely make it to the end of the counter before another, even stronger cramp-- contraction --causes you to nearly drop the tray. You lean heavily on the counter as you ride it out, trying to keep your breathing steady through the pain. You can do this, only a few more minutes and you'll be out the door.

When the pain subsides, and you feel somewhat sturdy on your feet again, you switch the cash tray to your other hand so you can lean against some of the shelves as you walk. Thankfully the office is out of sight of the mirror, so you get a few minutes of rest from the pain. The kicks are even stronger inside you now, though, and they are very distracting as you try to go about your duties.

After everything is put away and locked up, you step outside the office and take a shaky breath. You know you'll have to pass in front of the mirror again to get your things from behind the counter and leave. You don't know why this is happening, but you just hope you can make it out before anything gets worse.

You lean on the shelves again as you make your way back to the counter. One hand on the bare underside of your stomach, rubbing soothing circles on your poor, overheated skin, the other attempting to hold you up, while also not knocking anything over.

You don't even make it to the front of the counter before the strongest contraction yet forces you to your knees.

You clutch your stomach and groan loudly, the sound you make is almost animalistic. Your stomach is as hard as steel, your muscles clenching like a vice around your insides. It takes longer for this one to subside, but when it finally does, you are a sore, sobbing mess.

You wipe the tears from your eyes and crawl over to the counter. You reach to grip the edge of it and attempt to pull yourself up. You manage to get into a squatting position, belly hanging heavily between your knees, when a gush of fluid rushes out from between your legs. Your eyes go wide as you realize your water just broke.

You sob again as another contraction starts, the thing inside you forcing its way into your canal. It slips further and further down until you can feel it straining against your jeans. When the contraction releases its grip on your middle, you drop to your knees again and attempt to release yourself from your ruined pants and underwear. You only get them down to the middle of your thighs before the next contraction rips through you. You grip the counter’s edge in an attempt to remain somewhat upright, the thing inside you forcing its way further down your canal. Your lower lips burn as you feel it start to crown. When the contraction releases you, you tentatively reach down between your legs to touch the thing coming out of you. You feel a smooth, round lump, and small tufts of hair.

Fuck. You really are pregnant.

You’re crying again before the contractions even start this time. You’re so scared, you don’t understand what or why this is happening, only that it has something to do with that old mirror.

You press your face against the front of the counter to reach back with both of your hands, it makes it harder to breathe, but on the next contraction, you grit your teeth and push with all of your might. The baby’s head pops out of you in a gush of fluids, and you can feel the burn from where the shoulders are stuck still inside you. You push once more and yell so loudly that your throat is raw by the end of it. You feel one shoulder pop out, and the other following soon after. The baby falls unceremoniously into your pants, and you feel like you can finally rest. You carefully turn around so that your butt is on the floor and your back is leaning against the front of the counter. You gently lift the baby out of your pants and carefully bring it up to your chest. Its umbilical cord is still connected to you, and you feel it come out of you more as you lift the baby. It’s a boy.

He doesn’t cry, instead, he looks up at you with large black eyes. You brush some of the blood and goo off of his face before laying your head back against the front of the counter. You realize that you are still in sight of the mirror, but you’re too tired to care. You take in the sight of you: drenched in sweat in fluids with a baby on your chest, umbilical cord sticking out of your stretched and ruined hole. The room is starting to go dark as exhaustion sets in.

The last thing you are conscious of before passing out is a familiar warmth in your lower stomach.

***

When you open your eyes again, the baby is gone, but before you can really process that you feel a contraction rip through your middle once again. Your stomach has already grown to the size it was before you gave birth the first time. You start to cry as your water breaks and fluid gushes out of you, soaking the floor between your legs. You clutch your taut stomach, kicks and punches press out against your palms as you feel another head already forcing itself into your birth canal.

You feel tears run down your cheeks as you look up at your reflection in the mirror and see a shadowy figure with glowing red eyes standing behind the counter, watching you. You lay your head back and shout as another contraction already forces the head of the child to start crowning.

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