18+ | Transmasc NB | 30s | Interested in breeding, pregnancy, birth, etc
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i wanna get a trans guy pregnant…. i wanna have a threesome with him and a partner, and they both think the partner is gonna pull out before they cum, but i’m right there….. pinning them into him so they fill him right up. by the next month we’re all already sure he’s pregnant, so he takes revenge on me by making them cum in me at least once a day — usually more than once. only a few months later, we’re both huge and heavy, wide, round, and have to waddle everywhere we go. and we’re both still only about halfway through…….
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I’ll rape you, of course—but you tell yourself as you go about your life after, “At least he wore a condom.” True, I did slide a condom over my thick cock before spreading your legs and violating your boycunt for hours—but you couldn’t know what I did before that. You didn’t know that I poked holes in the condom, kept it in my wallet or in my hot car on the dashboard in direct sunlight to compromise the thin latex. You thought, distantly, that the warm wetness that followed my multiple orgasms was you. You’ll find out the truth soon, I guess, won’t you sweetheart? When your tits get tender and your nipples start to darken and your jeans get too snug around your nauseous belly. 😏
All I could tell myself was that it was a mercy you wore a condom. That it was horrible, being used like a sex toy against my will for hours, begging for you to end it, but at the very least you wore protection. I didn't know why you were laughing, I assumed you just got off to my pathetic, broken state. That condom gave me a little peace of mind, later in the shower when I tried to scrub off your claim to my body.
It wasn't enough, I know that now. That your cock tore through the condom like wet tissue paper when you violated my cunt, unloading your seed directly into my womb. That you were laughing about how stupid I was to think I was at the very least safe from further violation because of that. And since I was convinced I couldn't have been impregnated, I didn't take precaution afterwards. No plan B, no even worrying about pregnancy.
I assumed my aching tits were just because of binding too long, or because I got overzealous playing with them later trying to reclaim my sexuality. Assumed that my tighter jeans were just me gaining weight. Maybe I just ate something bad, I thought, when I started throwing up. Until I looked hard in the mirror and realized I couldn't lie to myself anymore.
You'd not only raped me, you'd claimed my womb as your incubator. And now, id be forced to carry your baby, your breeding bitch for the next nine months.
But hey. At least you used a condom.
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Pregnancy is going to re-make you, re-shape you into the woman you were always meant to be. Your body, eager to grow the seed planted in your womb into a new life, is going to soften, and thicken, and swell until you have the perfect body needed to fulfill your maternal purpose. And when you reach this final stage and look down at your radically changed form, you’ll feel nothing but a sense of contentment. You will be complete, a real woman who is at her fertile, and thus most feminine, stage in her life.
You will be eternally grateful to the man who chose you to carry his seed, and you will promise him that you crave to carry as many of his children as he wants to give you.
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You’re Gonna Get Me Pregnant
The moment I felt his bare cock glide between the walls of my slippery sex, I knew there was no going back. The rational, logical side of my brain was urging me to protest the fact that I was an orgasm away from becoming a teenage mother, but the horny as fuck part of my brain won out, wrapping my legs around my boyfriend’s waist in order to draw him in deeper.
“Are you gonna cum inside me?” I asked meekly, hoping that one of us retained a measure of self-control.
“Uh huh,” he grunted. So much for that.
“You know I’m not on the pill, right?” I protested. Despite my pleas, I made no effort to move off of him, rather I ground down harder, squeezing tight around his thick shaft. If I was going to risk getting pregnant, I was damn sure going to enjoy it.
“I believe you mentioned it, yes,” he said with a smirk, kissing me deeply. Fuck, why did this have to feel so good?
“You’re gonna get me pregnant,” I whined.
“That’s the idea,” he grunted, thrusting deep inside me.
“I’m too young to have a baby,” I moaned, no longer sure who I was trying to convince.
“You’re eighteen,” he replied.
“I’m just out of college,” I argued.
“So? You wouldn’t be the only pregnant girl your age. Plus, then you’ll get to be a young, hot, teen mum. I’m telling you, getting pregnant young will pay off,” he insisted.
He wasn’t wrong there. At least a dozen of my classmates sported baby bumps of their own. I couldn’t help but wonder what it was like, feeling your baby kicking it’s way to life inside you.
“People will think I’m a slut. One of those stupid girls who can’t keep her legs closed and got herself knocked up,” I murmured.
“I’ll make you a deal. If you don’t cum before I do, I’ll pull out,” he said, kissing me again as he picked up the pace, fucking me faster, harder, and deeper.
“That’s so not fair. I’m already so close,” I moaned.
“You’ll just have to resist,” he teased.
“I can’t,” I whimpered, biting my lip.
“Sure you can. If you don’t, you’re gonna feel my cock exploding inside you, filling you up with cum,” he murmured. He slid his full length inside, then consciously forced his dick to jerk inside me, giving me a delightful preview.
“No fair,” I groaned. There was nothing I could do. I was gonna cum, and then so was he, and then I’d get to spend my senior year in maternity clothes.
“Think about that cute little belly of yours swelling up as our baby grows inside you,” he said earnestly, his strokes turning hard and deliberate.
“It’s too much,” I cried. He wasn’t just screwing me bareback for kicks. My boyfriend was actively trying to fuck me pregnant.
“And that’s just for starters. I intend to knock you up over and over again,” he said proudly, looking me straight in the eye, taking my hand into his own.
I lost it. My mind was awash of hormones and ecstasy, the idea of him taking me in hand, making me pregnant, blew all my doubts and fears out of the water. “I’m gonna cum,” I screamed.
“Me too.”
“Oh fuck!”
The world exploded as I felt his seed spurt inside my fertile womb. I have no idea how long we stayed there. His cock was limp when it finally slipped out of me. The last thing I remember about that night was putting a pillow under my ass, making sure that none of his sperm escaped my wonderfully fucked pussy.
-
Eight months later he was fucking me bareback once again. This time I was on top, a practical necessity of my condition. My swollen breasts sat on top of my even more swollen belly, which gyrated obscenely as I rode his cock.
“You know, I’m really glad you talked me into having a baby. I never thought I would feel this way, but now that she’s inside me, I can’t imagine being without her,” I cooed, rubbing my belly as I savoured the waves of pleasure.
“You think it’s a girl?” my boyfriend asked curiously.
I shrugged, panting as my first orgasm of the evening started to build. “I dunno,” I sighed. “Just a feeling.”
-
Nineteen years later, I felt the ever comforting and familiar presence of my husband’s bare cock slipping inside my dripping cunt. The practical side of my mind reminded me I already had fifteen children, and that while money was no issue, maybe I ought to quit while I’m ahead. The side of my mind that needed a good fucking won out, bringing his hand to my milk laden breast as I ground my ass against his pelvis.
“Are you gonna cum inside me?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“I always do,” he smirked, kissing the back of my neck. Of course.
“You know I’m ovulating, right?” It wasn’t like we scheduled our lovemaking around my biological clock or anything, but he did make a point to fill me with cum when I was ripe for breeding. I rubbed my clit as he started to thrust. If I was getting pregnant again, I intended to cum hard.
“I’m aware of that, yes,” he said, squeezing my breast. Fuck, why did I love being bred so much?
“You’re gonna get me pregnant. Again,” I moaned, pointing out the obvious.
“That’s the idea,” he said simply.
“I’m too old to have a baby,” I moaned, knowing full well that neither of us cared.
“You’re thirty-seven,” he replied.
“My oldest daughter’s a in high school. And pregnant herself I might add,” I argued.
“So you won’t be the only pregnant girl in the family. Plus, you’ll get to be a sexy mum and a hot grandma at the same time. I told you getting pregnant at eighteen would pay off,” he said confidently.
He wasn’t wrong there. Many of my friends sported baby bumps of their own. I couldn’t help but remember what it was like, feeling your baby kicking it’s way to life inside you.
“People will think I’m a nut. One of those religious wackos that thinks Jesus wants them to stay knocked up,” I complained.
“I’ll make you a deal. If you don’t cum before I do, I’ll pull out,” he offered, kneading my breast, drawing a warm jet of milk into his palm.
“That’s not fair. You’ve knocked me up over a dozen times with that line,” I groaned.
“Sixteenth times a charm,” he smirked.
“God, I’m so close,” I moaned.
“I’m going to fill you up,” he warned, quickening his thrusts.
“Please,” I begged. I wanted him fill me up, make me cum, knock me up.
“Just imagine yourself, heavy and pregnant again,” he whispered. In and out, in and out.
“Don’t stop,” I cried. This wasn’t an idle lovemaking session. My husband was actively trying impregnate me.
“And it doesn’t end there. I’m going to keep you pregnant for as long as I can,” he said lovingly, turning me head to face him and kissing me deeply.
“I’m cumming,” I whimpered against his lips.
“Me too.”
“Fuck!”
We stayed like that for hours after the fireworks, long enough to grow hard again, to make sure, to make absolutely certain I would give birth in nine months. The last thing I remember was running my fingers through his hair while he nursed at my breast, wondering how I’d gotten so lucky.
-
Eight months later I was on top again, my swollen form slowly bucking on top of his bare cock. I ran my hands along my sensuous curves, radiating the warm glow of my beautifully pregnant form. I looked into the mirror, seeing a naked fertility goddess in the reflection.
“You know, I’m really glad you talked me into getting pregnant again. I didn’t think I would feel this way, but now that she’s inside me, I couldn’t imagine life without her,” I said thoughtfully, stroking the taught skin on my stomach.
“You sure it’s a girl?” my husband asked curiously.
I shrugged. I was going to cum eventually but I wasn’t in any hurry. “Definitely,” I beamed.
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grargle long time no post
have an incredible and lovely kinky partner so i haven't been posting much but he likes my writing so i'm gonna start it up again
ANYWAYS we watched Juno and holy shit is that man transgender. Could not stop thinking about the absolutely perfect and necessary tmpreg fanfiction that has to be written for it. Can't be assed to do a full, in-depth version that'd do it justice but:
Jude
In the year following the birth, he began to experience overwhelming dysphoria, causing him to break up with Paulie and take a gap year after high school traveling around, during which time he realizes his real name is Jude and begins transitioning away from home. At college in Canada, he leaves his past, pregnancy and gender alike, behind, going totally stealth for a full decade.
After his father's death, he stays at home for a while, living with his stepmother. After a while, he starts renting out a motel room for some privacy. It'd been months since he and his last girlfriend broke up, but he decided to go out to the bars. Four drinks in, he sees the most beautiful woman he's ever laid eyes on - tall, with long curly brown hair and a husky, familiar voice that makes his heart soft and his cock hard. He brings her back to his hotel, taking her long, slender cock in his throat and fucking her hard in the ass with his strap. The night ends with him straddling her hips, lifting her sleek shaven legs in the air and fucking her cock with his hole until she bottoms out deep inside him. She leaves before he wakes up, her cum oozing out of his well-fucked hole.
He hadn't taken a load in him in years, and figured his testosterone would be all the birth control he needed. He starts throwing up the day he's supposed to head home, and two dreaded pink lines prove that wrong. Panicking, he stays in Minnesota, desperate to stop his friends from knowing he could even get knocked up in the first place. He keeps his hands away from his belly at night, staring at the wall. He can't do it. Not again. He can't afford it - the dysphoria, the shame, the kicks, the squirming, the pushing. He knows he should get rid of it, relieve the burden of growing up without knowing it's parents.
It's mother.
He knows he should be looking up centers, making arrangements, telling somebody, but he can't. The image of her face is still burned into his mind, lush and sensual. He can't keep it away from his every thought, some indescribable pull begging for more of her. Every night, he strokes his cock to the memory of him slamming down onto her and making her a mommy - his hand brushing up against his belly a little bit more every time.
He knows his time is running out. Every day, his clothes fit less, and his frantic stroking only pushes the thought of her deeper inside him. He searches the bars, roams the town, spends months seeing the faces of the people who once knew him. Who once whispered about his belly growing, about how he couldn't keep his legs closed. None of them recognized him anymore, but every day he saw a few more eyes dart over to his swelling stomach. It was worse this time.
He stays strong. He doesn't cry, taking solace in long walks. He finds himself at the track of his old high school, leaning over the fence in a heavy hoodie and trying to keep the bulge from hitting the bars. That's when she runs by. Long legs, beating against the track. Her beautiful brown curls tied back in a long ponytail with a yellow scrunchie. And those eyes, the same eyes he fell in love with long ago. They lock, and she freezes for a second, gasping in recognition before stumbling onto the ground. He runs to her, taking her hand once more. He knows it the moment it's there, the moment he sees her face without the haze of cheap whiskey. All grown-up. Out of her shell. As he pulls her off the ground, he stars to trip as well, stumbling over what to say or ask or...
"Patricia." He blinks.
"Jude."
She takes him in, before chuckling slightly. "Hi."
"Hey." His mind races. Out of everyone he had avoided in his sleepy hometown, the top of his list was in front of his face the entire time. And her baby was in him. Getting bigger every day.
"So," he says, mind half-blank, "guess what."
She shrugs, nervous and small. "I don't know."
He holds it back, trying desperately to stay on the run from his womb and it's consequences. If he says it, it'll be real. If the words leave his lips, so will his child. Her child.
Their child.
He grabs the zipper and pulls it down, exposing the swell of his rapidly growing bump. "I'm pregnant." It was an acknowledgement and a confession. Her eyes bulged. "Again."
"I guess so." She swallows. "What are you going to do?"
He paused. It was all coming back, too fast. Too raw. But it was different, now. It was on his terms.
"I don't know." He reached out his hand, taking hers and pressing it against the swell like they did all those years ago.
"Can we find out together?"
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