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transguywifeguy · 1 month ago

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Rough Start

It was alarming, to wake up and discover that I was starting to show. I mean, I imagine it’s normally bizarre to look at yourself in the mirror and notice your normally trim belly is starting to acquire a slight swell to it, that the skin feels tight, and pressing on it shows the small bump to be unyielding, firm. But for me, it was just a tad more worrisome.

I’d woken on a Saturday, to the sounds of my mom and little sister seeming quite distressed. I was jolted to consciousness by a scream, but then heard sobs coming from the room next to me, consoling murmurs that I couldn’t QUITE make out. I’d assumed it a nightmare, and started getting ready to face the day, since the adrenaline pretty much guaranteed that I wouldn’t be sleeping in today.

It was after I’d peeled off my pajamas that I noticed the pregnant swell to my midriff. I just gazed in horror, uncomprehending, the tight skin tingling as I ran my fingertips over it again and again, tracing gentle circles on my seemingly life-filled belly. The thing that really was confusing, frightening, was that I had never had sex. I’d been taught abut my body at about the same time as my first period, and I’d been careful about it. But somehow, in spite of me never even so much as kissing a boy… I felt hot tears welling in my eyes as a small shift came from inside my body, beneath my palms as I cupped the small bulge in my formally slim teenage frame.

This was real. I was pregnant.

My mom came into my room, holding my younger sister tight. I was seventeen, my mom was only about thirty or so, and my poor sister… she’d just had her fourteenth birthday the previous week. I covered my mouth in horror, eyes roaming over the form of my ever-so-slightly showing mother and little sis. The three of us could only hug one another tight, our progenitor running fingers through our hair as she whispered that it would be ok, she would find out who did this, and that she wouldn’t make us have the babies.

We found the hospital packed with girls and women, ranging from around twelve to about their forties, give or take a couple years each way. Most of them were wearing baggy sweaters or poofy dresses. The ones that weren’t hiding their midsections had a tiny little swell, just a bit larger than they should have been. Nobody could keep their hands off their middles. The three of us took our seats, just listening to the sounds of women and girls that had been forced to carry a human life against their will… somehow. Teen girls repeatedly telling their parents that they didn’t know who the father was, that they were sorry, they didn’t KNOW how it happened. Wives sobbing to their husbands, some that it must be a miracle, some that they were faithful, had never NOT been faithful, that they were so confused. It hurt my heart to hear some of the younger girls whimpering and gasping to their guardians that something was moving in their tummies, that they felt heavy.

One by one we were given pregnancy tests. One by one, they came back positive. The full run was given, and every time, the same results. Seemingly, a huge chunk of the town had been impregnated somehow, apparently overnight, as some of the couples had taken tests just a day or two ago. Universally, we were about half way through our second trimester, our pregnancies accelerated. It was projected that delivery would happen within the next twenty-four hours. Beyond the randomness of conception, and the speed of gestation, the pregnancies seemed normal, the babies healthy.

Of course, there was one question floating in everyone’s heads. How. How were we all impregnated, how is the baby growing so fast. And, for many of us, who is the father. The doctors said, that god, that the babies were human, so we weren’t going to deal with any sort of horrifying bursting situation or some sort of tentacled horror crawling from between our legs like some of the stories say. But there must have been someone, right?

The answer, or part of it, came as my family was sitting in the living room, my dad stepping up and taking care of dinner for us. It was amazing, really, how supportive he was. We all sat close to each other, taking comfort that, at the end of the day, as bizarre as the situation was, we still had each other. And then the news came on. A woman, just as pregnant as the three of us, looked at the camera with eyes containing a mix of tears and barely contained fury.

“The big news story of the day is that… that somehow, half of the population of DePaign has been suffering from rapid spontaneous pregnancy. The g-governor has made an official statement in regards to it, and… and it’s… impressive, to say the least. Apparently, in order to bolster the failing Social Security program, he and many other political heads of different areas of the United states has been given authority to use a new f-fertility drug. The governor has s-said that he added the chemical to the water supply of certain parts of town, to create a new generation of people to pay into the program as a stopgap. Abortions have been outlawed and…

“Damnit. He had no right.” The woman’s face turned red, and holding her life-filled womb, the news anchor stood quickly, bracing herself on the desk, quacking in fury. “YOU HAD NO FUCKING RIGHT YOU MISOGYNIST PIECE OF SH- NO, GET OFF ME, GET OFF!!!” A couple of men grabbed the enraged mother-to-be and escorted her from the desk, though shrieked obscenities could still be heard from off-screen. Another, male anchor took her place, shooting his co-worker a smug glance, before continuing. “The president is being hailed as a masterful visionary for his bold tactic, and-” My dad turned off the tv, at that point, himself quivering with barely contained rage. My mother held him close, and sent my sister and I to begin the task for preparing for bed.

It was awkward, frustrating, and terrifying, how the changes made so much difficult for me. How my sister, with her smaller, younger frame, struggled to attend to even simple tasks. I was grateful she was at least fourteen. Not every girl who was carrying her first baby today was that lucky. After finishing the night time ritual, the two of us just sat up for a while, absently stroking out life-filled, heavy wombs, and waiting. Feeling our firstborns kicking their way to life inside us. It had hit the point that our babies were moving fairly often, and sometimes we’d let out a gasp or a whimper with a particularly strong motion, causing our straining bellies to visibly shift. It made everything so real, so intense.

Bit by bit, the two of us watched my little sisters bellybutton poke out, followed by mine after a time. “It feels so big…” she whispered, looking at me with reddened eyes. “P-please… I don’t want to have a b-baby… n-not now, not like th-this…” Many tears had been shed this day, but I’d been doing what I could to stay strong. At the moment, however, I was utterly drained, physically and emotionally. All I could do is hug my sibling tight, stroking her hair as the two of us wept at the unfairness of the situation.

Of course, the worst was yet to come. But you knew that.

We actually fell asleep next to each other, and I heard my little sis gasp into my chest as she woke up, felt my teenage sibling wrap slim, skinny arms around her huge pregnant swell as a pained, strangled noise escaped her mouth. The sudden flurry of activity woke me, but shortly after I discovered the cause for the sudden reaction. I looked down, and saw that, as we’d slept, the gestation of our unasked for children had continued relentlessly. We were massive, the skin of our gravid orbs trembling from time to time, before, as I watched, my own fertile swell shrank slightly, and an intense, cramping pain gripped me, all the way to the base of my spine.

“Oh god… it h-hurts…” The fourteen year old soon-to-be-mother whimpered, holding her fertile mound tightly. “It’s… ahn! It’s almost t-time, I think…” I gasped, as another contraction hit. I became aware of a powerful pressure. It was growing stronger by the moment, my child’s head starting to press hard against my cervix. I heard a pained moan from my parent’s bedroom, my mother apparently preparing to give birth to my new sibling. And as my firstborn infant prepared to slip from between my legs, my poor sister let out another pained cry, her own body going into labor, bringing me closer to becoming a mother and an aunt at the same time.

It had still been hard to process. Even the movement inside me has seemed disconnected, it all had been so strange, happening so fast. But now, caught in the throes of childbirth, my body, my mind could deny it no longer. “Oh god… We’re… I’m gonna be a mommy… I’m gonna have a BABY RIGHT NOW OH GOD!” Another spasm sent pain lancing deep into my muscles, and a leaned back, thrusting my packed womb forward, before my eyes went wide. I felt something let got inside me, heard the quietest pop.

There was a sensation of liquid running down my feminine tunnel. With a gush, my panties, my pajama bottoms, became soaked with amniotic fluid. A moment later, my sister cried out, gasping “Something’s h-happening inside!” Before another, even quieter pop could be heard. A thick, musky scent filled the room as her water broke as well, pooling next to mine, soaking her own garments from the waist down. “It hurts s-so bad, I’m s-scared!” I decided right then that my poor younger sister needed help much more than I did. And, as a desperate scream came from upstairs, I realized my mom was occupied with her own delivery, my dad likely helping. So it fell to me.

Even as another spasm help me tight, the head of my baby starting to force it’s way passed my cervix, my body crying out for me to start pushing, I leaned forward, helping my sibling get into a birthing position. The pain was overwhelming her, it seemed like the poor thing could barely hear me, so I busied myself with clearing the way for the child starting to open her most delicate parts up from inside, even as my own child did the same.

Tears ran from the fourteen year old’s face, her fingers gripping my shoulders tightly as I gripped her soaking bottoms and panties. “I… I want to push… what’s happening to me?!” I tugged off the wet clothes, all the way down her skinny legs and off her feet, tossing them aside. My chest felt sticky, and I realized that my breasts had begun producing a lot of milk overnight. But I only had a moment to register that, as another terrible contraction pulled at my teenage body, the desperate need to bear down surging through me. I couldn’t fight it, I had to give in, my eyes shooting wide as the head entered my birth canal. “P…p-push sweetie! Push your BABY OUT OF YOU!!!” I tried to stay calm, to give instructions even as I labored, with mixed success. But she listened, and skinny hands gripped me, toes curling as the young teen struggled to deliver her fatherless offspring.

For a time, all that existed, that could exist, was the need to give birth, with brief rests. I did what I could to be there for my sister, holding her hand, stroking her belly, running fingers through her hair. But being so supportive meant I got none of that, and so I was on all fours, bent over the young teen, panties and pajamas still fully on my bottom half, whole body aching with the powerful need to give birth, and desperately fighting my own panic.

But if my labor was difficult, it was harder for my sibling. Our bodies had adapted to pregnancy with… mixed results. Our milk had apparently come in overnight, but our hips had struggled to flair like they were supposed to. Many of the subtle, physical changes meant to make delivery easier hadn’t occurred, or at least not fully, or bodies focusing on making sure the babies grew as they were supposed to. And so my sister, being younger and thus smaller than me, was struggling to make the same progress as me. And it was difficult enough on my end.

Then, the moment I dreaded. I was in the middle of helping with breathing exercises, when the need to bear down came once more. I gave in fully, even as a pained scream came from my partner of desperation, only to shriek as something happened inside. I couldn’t stop pushing, but tried to, as I felt the head begin to press against my hymen. “No, no please, not that, DON’T DO THAT NOOO!!!” Nothing I did could stop the relentless progress of my child, however. And bit by horrible bit, I felt my hymen be ripped apart by my slowly emerging offspring. After a few more pushes, I watched the horrified look cross my sisters face, and tried to comfort her, as she lost her virginity to her own unasked for baby as she struggled to give birth.

Shortly afterwards, as I was enduring another contraction, I saw the lips of my sibling’s girlhood begin to bulge. They were covered in peach-fuzz, and as she struggled, the sensitive, wet lips of her vagina pushed out further and further around her firstborn. “Hurts, god it burns, why is it BURNING MAKE IT STOP!” she screamed, the powerful ring of fire beginning to overwhelm her as, slowly, her puffy pregnant lips began to be forced open, her baby at last crowning.

Even as I helped my young teenage sister deliver her child, my own was becoming impatient. I stifled a yelp as the sensation of my own opening beginning to push away from my body, sensitive skin beginning to drag over my soaking panties making everything tingle intensely sent electric tingles deep inside, mixing with the pain and intensity of childbirth to create something almost pleasurable. There was no denying that some part of me felt�� right like this. Heavy with a baby, legs open wide, straining to help my own child emerge from my feminine parts. Like some part of me knew this was what I was meant to do, biologically if nothing else.

My toes curled in my socks as I fought the desperate need to put my all into delivering as fast as I could. I needed to be there for my little sister, and so I let the relentless pressure of my poor womanhood straining around my soon-to-be-born infant build as it slid forward bit by bit, instead trying to coach the terrified fourteen year old girl as she gave birth. I helped her breathe through the resting points, though those had become very brief, and push through the contractions, even though she screamed that it felt like her girl parts were on fire. I watched her fuzzy lips open wider and wider around her baby. I began to worry as they turned pale with strain. Then, her cries raised in pitch as the skin near the bottom of her motherly organ began to turn an angry red, the skin seemingly stretched to it’s limit.

“S-sweetie you need to slow d-down!” I gasped, feeling another contraction build. “Rest for a b-bit you’re gonna t-t-tahOGOD IT’S COMING OUT OF ME!!!” I tried to warn her, but my own labor could no longer be denied. I braced myself on my sibling’s wide-open knees as I pushed with everything I had, feeling my baby surge forward, shoulders scraping against my narrow hips. The head forced me so wide, I felt a hideous burn as my baby crowned strongly, quickly, it feeling like somehow the crotch of my soaking panties had been set on fire, a powerful, aching burn of my skin struggling to stretch far enough to accommodate my delivery quickly becoming overwhelming.

Meanwhile, my sister’s toes curled, and her face went pale as the poor, soon-to-be mommy threw her head back. “I NEED THIS BABY OUT OF MEEE!!!” With all her might, the young mother bore down, and I looked through watering eyes as her delicate feminine opening. The red skin at the base became almost clear, and held for a moment as the head surged forward. Then, a horrible screech as the forehead passed from her tunnel, followed by the nose, ears, and mouth in a wet rush. The whole head emerged, accompanied by another gush of fluids. Luckily, her tortured girlhood held.

My own delivery proceeded throughout this, and as I pushed, the burn of my baby crowning into my underwear grew. I reached a hand back, felt my crotch to discover a large bulge between my legs where the child was emerging. “Oh… ohhh baby you’re hurting mommy SO MUCH!” I could feel my own femininity struggling to keep up with the size of the head. I could feel desperation pounding through my veins, and as my sibling gave a series of moans, shuddering as the infant she’d been forced to give birth to rotated within the birth canal that still held it, I made the same mistake my sister did, and gave into my primal need to have my baby.

I let out a high-pitched squeal as I felt my womanhood stretch to the limit, the skin between my legs thinning, aching. I could feel it, I’d gone to far. I was on the cusp of tearing wide open. One more push would rend the barely holding skin, I could only hope it wouldn’t be too bad. Even with that knowledge, I was too far in, too scared and desperate. I had to bear down again.

But instead of the searing agony of my skin being ripped open, instead I felt the head surge forward, fluids gushing from between my legs once more, the head fully emerging into my underwear. I could feel the cloth stretched tight around my firstborn, and I could only sob for a moment at the sheer intensity of it, that my baby was actually between my legs, on the cusp of actually being born. I’d made a life inside my body, and now… now it was time to birth it.

Once more, I gripped my sister’s hands. “Ok… ok, it’s time to meet our babies, ok?” I panted, shivering with multiple kinds of exhaustion. My poor baby sis looked at me, seeming beyond tired herself. Her eyes were somewhat clouded, but she nodded, hearing my words, and shifted her legs to open herself slightly wider. “We can d-do this… one more big push with the next contraction. Are you r-ready?” Another nod, followed quickly by a pained moan. I knew why… it was the same thing quickly building inside me.

It was time to have our babies.

“Ok… OK PUSH HON! PUSH WITH MEEE!!!” I felt the shoulders pressing hard against my opening. It was difficult, my clothes were fighting me. Meanwhile, my sisters not-quite-mature body was fighting her in front of me, even as she pushed with all her might, the baby was seeming just too large to emerge. Then, a frustrated scream tore from her throat. “COME OUT OF MEEE!!!” I watched her thighs quiver, her feet lifting from the ground, and slowly, bit by bit, the first shoulder emerged. Then, just as gradually, the other popped free at last. The shriek took on an almost orgasmic tone as her newborn slipped from her most sensitive parts in a hot, wet rush, fluid gushing from her opening.

Likewise, I at last felt one shoulder erupt from my aching womanhood. I kept whispering to myself desperately as I struggled to deliver, just one last hurdle to clear. “pleasepleasepleaseplease…” I panted as I bore down one last time. I was rewarded with an end to that potent pressure that had been plaguing me since I woke. I reached into my clothes as my firstborn infant slid into my panties, juices gushing from my aching tunnel.

If I’m honest… I hadn’t really had time to process the fact that I was really, TRULY becoming a mother. That, at the end of this, there would be a child, an actual human being. But, after pulling my child from between my legs, looking at him… something happened inside me. Something… I think it’s good. If it’s not, I’m too far gone already to ever know. My eyes followed the cord that led down into my bottoms, felt it shift between my legs as I moved my baby to hold him more safely. My sister, meanwhile, lifted her newborn daughter from the floor, eyes tracing the same path mine did, back along the cord leading into her own body. Proving that it was actually my neice, my sister’s daughter.

I think, for a time, it caught us totally off guard. We just sat back, let our offspring latch onto our heavy, aching breasts. Mom and dad came down with my new little brother, looking exhausted, and helped us cut the cords.

After that… it was like, everything was the same, but totally different. We weren’t allowed to give our children up for adoption, but honestly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. It’s been thirteen years since then. My handsome man just hit his teens himself. Of course, he’s got three younger siblings now, one boy and two girls. I’ve got a fifth on the way, we just found out last week. I don’t know, for some reason, after that, I caught baby fever. And it just hasn’t gone away. The feeling of growing a life inside me, getting closer and closer to giving birth is just… so amazing. Intense in a way nothing else is. And I love to see my children running and playing and laughing.

I was lucky enough to find a husband who remembered that day, was understanding that I already had one of my own. It was ok, because he wanted a bunch too. We were married at twenty, and have been happy together ever since. I was honestly scared, back then, that my life was over from there. pregnant with a baby I never wanted, couldn’t get rid of, and still in highschool. I suppose, in some ways, I got very lucky. But honestly… I wouldn’t trade this for the world.

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transguywifeguy · 1 month ago

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Campus Lake

They tell you swimming is safe. It’s something every girl worries about at some point, after discovering that periods and pregnancy are things, especially if they show you videos, or you look them up on your own. The sweating, screaming, seeing that tender, sensitive slit bulge and stretch and bleed… Ugh. It’s enough to make any sane girl swear off sex, for a while at least.

You start panicking about bringing anything even close to your feminine opening that might have gotten sperm on it. Your brother’s towel, a pair of panties you’ve seen someone touch and you can’t 100% confirm they didn’t sabotage it with just enough semen to make you pregnant. It only takes one sperm, after all. That’s what they pound into your head while showing the value of abstinence. But that rhetoric makes it easy to wonder where that fateful one could be that will put a baby into your belly without even knowing it. Everything becomes a potential host for forcing you into motherhood by accident, especially as you realize how disgusting boys are, carelessly slinging their potent, fertile seed all over, sometimes not even washing their hands.

But fairly quickly, someone realizes you haven’t showered, or you’re refusing to go to the pool or something because someone could have cum in the water at some non-specific point, and you’re not ready to have a baby. For all you know their seed could still be swimming around, invisible and just looking for a ready and waiting egg nestled in your unprotected body. And they’ll sit you down and explain how it really works, or at the very least plunk a book in your lap and tell you to read up. You find out those cells have a fairly short life once exposed to open air, or water, anything but the inside of a female body. And you relax, then go and enjoy the pool, or finally wash off all that dirt.

So, in my freshman year in college, when my friends asked me if I wanted to go swimming in the lake, the idea anything like that could happen didn’t even cross my mind. I simply laid back in the water, utterly relaxed. Everyone seemed to feel it too, the water just a shade warmer than we thought it would be, just perfect for maximum comfort. So easy to just lay back close to the shore, covered all the way to our chins, and just enjoy the sensation of the gentle current tugging at our bodies.

We spent a decent chunk of the day submerged in the water, my friends and I. Unaware that anything was happening, that anything COULD be happening to us. We didn’t realize that the lab up near where the source of the river that fed this lake came from was using it as a handy disposal for biological runoff as a result of their experiments.

And so we happily opened ourselves, left our vulnerable bodies utterly defenseless as the mutated semen ran through the stream. Far more resilient and potent than normal sperm, we would later discover that it could last months before even needing to enter a female host, even longer once inside. The water just washed over our bathing suits and labia, barely any trickling inside. But thousands of the superpowered cells were entering out feminine tunnels every minute. Swimming deeper and deeper into our bodies, seeking our bellies. Inevitably finding them.

Additional chemicals in the water sent our reproductive organs into overdrive. Without noticing, our ovaries began to go to work. Preparing a viable egg far faster than normally possible, before releasing it into the first of many of the eager sperm cells. Our wombs began forming their uterine lining, sending pleasant tingles and shivers through us as we soaked.

In retrospect, that was the worst realization. All of us kept letting out contented sighs and moans, our feminine bodies giving us so much gentle pleasure as they went about doing what they were meant to do by nature. Reinforcing our impending unwanted pregnancies with wave after wave of tingling joy.

I arched my back slightly, moaning quietly, as the bizarre sperm began its assault on my ripe, fertile egg. The walls slowly broke own, yielding to the hundreds of cells seeking to join with it. And finally… one did. And in an instant, it was all assured, no going back. The swelling, the movement inside of a life taking form. The aching, the tears and screams and sweat. Pregnancy. Labor. Childbirth. Motherhood. Laying there in the water, shivering at a slight pleasant tingle, I was impregnated. My fate sealed. All that was left was living it.

The cells began to divide quickly inside me. Our every biological process had been changed by the polluted waters, and while all of us had a very different experience, some better than others, every one of us was destined to have delivered our unwanted children by the next day. The one cell became two. Then four. Eight, then sixteen, then thirty-two, faster and faster. Meanwhile, the growing ball of cells nestled into my uterus, joining itself to me, causing me to gasp and briefly run fingertips over my tingling, now life-filled midsection.

Once all of us were gestating our unasked for offspring, some instinct took over, and we al suddenly wanted to go home. So goodbyes were said, and we all went home, to swell and deliver. Every one of us had a different creature forming deep within our fertile bodies, taking up more space by the moment. Every one of our experiences that night would be different, some of us wouldn’t survive, some would be scarred for life. But there was no changing it now, nothing to do but let these things we’d been forced to bear gestate in our bellies until they were ready to emerge.

I was already showing slightly by the time I walked into my dorm. Small tingles of energy coursed through me, my body once more rewarding me for being a mommy-to-be, thrilled at the prospect of bearing a life within it. I stepped into the shower, letting the clean water run over my slowly swelling form, washing off the evidence of what had happened, pouring thousands of mutant super-sperm of various species down the drain, to run over another unsuspecting girl, to slip inside and force her into motherhood.

I dried off after, gasping as I toweled off my chest. My nipples were incredibly sensitive, my breasts aching. Unbeknownst to me, they were beginning to fill with milk, changing bit by bit to be able to better care for the child I didn’t yet know I was carrying. My body was now starting to struggle with the changes being forced upon it by my condition. My hips ached as they tried to flare out to make delivery easier. My legs burned as they tried to adapt to my increasing weight and shifting center of gravity.

The entire time my belly continued to swell. The slightest touch made pleasure surge through my being, the inexorably growing orb intensely sensitive. The skin was tight and surprisingly warm, and slight pressure showed it was firm, unyielding as my womb hardened to protect the offspring I was forced to gestate.

I began to panic. How had I missed my belly growing like this? Then I felt something move. I let out a cry of alarm, both hands holding my gravid midriff as the pressure grew, my baby continuing to take up more space. My pregnancy was obvious on my slim frame, and I stared in open-mouthed horror at myself in the bathroom mirror.

Heat began to build inside me. I was sweating slightly, panting as I felt heavier by the moment. I could feel my growth tugging at my palms as I cupped the warm, fertile bump in both hands. I began to whimper, confusion and fear making my eyes begin to water. I was really pregnant, something was growing in me… something I would have to birth…

Oh god… birth… all at once all those memories of the videos and the lectures returned to me. The rumors of women getting pregnant by strange creatures, laying eggs or delivering animals or alien creatures… terrifying monsters torturing their way out of their screaming mother’s bodies… I had never had sex, had barely even masturbated. I didn’t want to give birth, didn’t want to be a mother. I didn’t even know who the father was… or what the father was…

But I was getting closer to that moment. It grew nearer by the second, as my unwanted baby took over more and more space within me, forcing my womb to stretch, my body to change as I adapted to the pregnancy that had been forced upon me. My hips radiated pain, the bone desperately trying to force itself wider so they wouldn’t break as I tried to expel whatever was growing inside me. My feminine lips swelled as well, becoming puffy and sensitive as they prepared to have my firstborn slip between them.

I staggered naked into the bedroom, sobbing and calling for help. But I knew the walls were almost completely soundproof, nobody would hear me. I couldn’t remember where I left my phone, and although I tried to find it to call an ambulance to help me, to get this baby OUT before I had to experience labor and childbirth, my swollen womb, the new center of gravity and unfamiliar form hindered me at every turn. I stumbled and staggered my way around my living space, feeling the life inside me getting closer and closer to being born. Every move from inside made me whimper, sobbing and pleading to please, please let this be a dream, let me wake up…

The pressure of whatever I was gestating grew worse and worse, making me feel like I was about to explode with how pregnant I was, the life inside me massive. I caught sight of myself in the mirror and let out a choked sob. I had been skinny, a little short for my age. Now… my pregnancy changed the shape of my entire body, ankles swollen, chest having gone up at least a cup size with small beads of milk starting to form on my aching nipples.

My midsection… I could hardly believe it was mine. I was clearly about to go into labor any second. My belly button was poking out, and I could feel it throbbing. I could it was insanely sensitive, the slightest touch would send me to my knees. Even the slight breeze in my apartment was sending shivers of raw sensation coursing over my full-term swell. A line went all the way down the middle of my fecund orb, splitting it in half vertically, a dark, vivid mark.

Then a contraction finally came, as I stared in horror at my body, the form that had been changed in almost every way by my terrifying condition. The pain was immediate, intense, forcing me to clutch my fertile midsection as I fell to the ground.

It was time.

I was about to have a baby.

I called for help as another contraction gripped me tightly, begging for anyone to come save me. God the pressure, the feeling of impossible fullness… something had to give, something had to break or else I was going to burst apart like a balloon…

And yet, I didn’t. the head of whatever thing was inside just pressed down harder with each powerful spasm, wedging itself deep into my cervix. The labor pains came closer together, somehow grew stronger and even more agonizing than they had started off as. I let out a ragged scream as the strongest contraction yet coursed through me, when suddenly, the pressure eased. With a popping sound, I could feel something running out of me. I looked into the mirror before me, resting on my knees and leaning back, just in time to see the amniotic fluid come gushing from between my puffy feminine lips.

I moaned as I watched the strange substance run from between my legs, it’s appearance just another terrible reminder that the moment had come to deliver this unwanted creature. A thick, musky aroma filled the air as my juices soaked my thighs, ran down over my ankles, and soaked into the carpet. The puddle seemed to almost shimmer, almost like it was some form of oil, faint rainbows playing over the surface as the liquid shifted and pooled before being absorbed by the fibers. Its consistency was strange, almost like mercury, solid and yet liquid at the same time.

I took the merciful pause in the agony of childbirth to gulp down a few breaths. I was grateful I hadn’t tried to get dressed after exiting the shower, as removing anything I had on would be nigh impossible right now. But then, the pain of my body being forced wide open around a living being returned as another cramp assaulted me. I let out a raw scream as the irresistible need to bear down on the large, hard object forcing my cervix apart pounded through my being. Tears ran down my face as I pushed with everything I had, fingers gripping the carpet tight, forming fists as I screamed my unwanted offspring into my birth canal.

I panted, calling weakly for someone, anyone to help before the next contraction. then, there was only more agonized cries, as I felt more of the creature I’d been forced to carry shove into my vagina. This massive, fully-developed child had grown so quickly. It was hard to imagine, as I sobbed and tried to force it down my aching, stretching tunnel toward my quivering entrance, that at one point this was just a single egg that met with a sperm. So small I couldn’t even see it.

Now, that thing that was once so minuscule just a few short hours ago was torturing it’s way out of my body, making me spasm and moan, the pitch of my voice getting higher as more of my most delicate parts were forced to open wider than they ever had before. “Please, please come OUT OF ME NOW I DON’T WANT THIS!!!” I sobbed, toes curling into tight balls as I put all my weight on my arm, leaning way back and pushing with everything I had. Dimly, I registered a ripping sensation, as the creature I was delivering tore through my hymen. By being forced to become a mother, I’d lost my virginity to my own unwanted child.

I looked at the mirror through my tears, and saw my narrow slit starting, at last, to bulge out. As I continued to bear down, more and more of the soft flesh began to tent forward. A teardrop shape gradually formed within my tender vaginal lips as the head started, inch by terrible inch, to crown. The realization caused despair to overwhelm me once more, realizing that it was so close, I was about to give birth, to become a mother against my will.

There was a baby torturing it’s way out of my body right now, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. All I could do was deliver.

A raw scream tore from my throat as the crowning burn consumed my virgin genitals. My hips were sending their own warning messages, having only been able to widen so far before the moment arrived. The shoulders were shoving forcefully against them, causing the bone to strain and ache hideously as the pressure grew. I could only hope the thing inside me didn’t get stuck, or worse, break my hips as it emerged.

“Oh god… oh god… OH GOD NOOOOOOOOO!!!” I bellowed, throwing my head back and giving everything I had to finishing this awful task. The head forced me open wide, and I felt more liquid leaking from my aching womanhood. The amniotic fluid helped the thing I’d gestated slip forward, and as the contraction ended I looked at my reflection once more. I was horrified to see my formerly narrow, delicate opening had been forced impossibly wide by something light blue and covered in scales.

“What… what am I giving b-b-BIRTH TOAHHHGODPLEASE!!!” With every push, I could feel another gush of birthing fluids squirt from my nether regions. It was official, whatever was in me wasn’t human. I was giving the gift of life to a monster I never wanted inside me. All I could do is push, and hope it was over quickly. Even as my hips throbbed, and my slit felt as though it was about to burst into flame, I put all my effort into getting all of this over with, praying that, somehow, I could go back to my life as a college student once this abomination was out of my body.

I could feel the scales catching on my lips as my terrifying offspring surged forward, my screams catching in my throat as the sensation reminded me of the horrible reality of what I was birthing. I arched my back, opened my knees as wide as possible, and as yet another staggering spasm pounded into my body, I bore down with every bit of energy in my body. Slowly, bit by bit, scale by scale, the head slowly slipped from my aching, straining womanhood, each scale snagging the tender flesh, leaving small scratches and cuts.

Then, I spasmed, as the entire head, at last, erupted from my dripping birth canal. I lowered my hand down between my thighs, rubbing the head of my unwanted child. It was slick with amniotic fluid, smooth and scaly. I ran my fingers back, up to where my monstrous child merged with my soft skin, causing me to shudder as I felt the contrasting sensations.

It was my child. It grew in me, was being born from me.

I was a mother.

Then, it was time to begin on the shoulders. I had no more screams left, exhaustion beginning to make itself known from the difficulty of this delivery. I could only whimper as I struggled to get the widest part of my baby out, feeling myself open even more than before, until with a shudder, one of the shoulders emerged. With one more desperate, toe-curling effort, the other arm slipped out of me. A sobbing groan escaped me as I felt a hot, wet, almost orgasmic rush of hot wetness, the body of my firstborn slipping out quickly, accompanied by another surge of fluid.

The whole room stank of sweat and my own juices. I let myself fall back at last, arms collapsing out from under me. My knees splayed to either side, legs having long gone numb. I could hear a strange cry between my legs, my child calling for its mother from the spot it had slid to after being born. I scooted backward, away from it, until I reached my couch to prop myself on.

Panting, exhausted, I took in the appearance of what I’d nurtured within my womb. It looked almost like a normal baby. I noticed the thing seemed to be female. My daughter. My baby girl monster. Covered in blue-ish scales, she still had two feet, two hands. There was a short tail growing from the base of the little thing’s spine, and two little horns on her forehead. Tiny wings flapped on my baby’s back as she reached for her mother.

A cord connected us. Proved I’d birthed it. My baby. My poor baby girl that hadn’t asked to be born.

No… no, I can’t… can’t raise this thing, I’m in college, I can’t…

I can’t love this little reptile creature…

My daughter…

My poor, strange baby girl…

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