Riley was almost a normal college student. She was a junior. She woke up on the first day of the school year with a grin on her face. She could barely stop herself from skipping to class as she walked through the oblivious freshman and transfer students surrounding her.

She walked through the doors to her favorite class, finding the most comfortable seat among the pillows and beanbags littered across the floor. A freshman came and sat next to her, giving her a small hello.

“Hi! I’m Sarah, this your first time taking the class?”, she asked, and Riley gave a small laugh.

“No, not for me. I take this class every year. It’s my favorite.”, Riley said with a smirk, making Sarah seem to relax into the cushions.

Riley heard the bell ring and the door slammed shut with an audible click and she grinned again. This was the fun part.

She could almost feel herself getting heavier as the teacher walked to the front of the classroom, but she knew she wasn’t really. Not yet. The teacher lit some candles around the room and then sat down at the front, not saying anything.

A single word whispered from his mouth and Riley threw her head back as the first orgasm started. “Begin.”

Riley knew well enough to shed her clothes early on, as her bra was already tightening as she ripped off her skirt. Another orgasm swept through her, and she moaned as she heard some of the freshman scream while the returning students moaned in chorus.

Sarah, who was next to her, started quietly, quick moans like a kitten meowing coming from her mouth. That was until Riley bent down, shoving her face between Sarah’s short skirt, her tongue making Sarah scream in excitement.

Riley stopped as another orgasm ran her over like a truck and she laughed as she felt the all-too familiar pouch forming about her underwear. She moaned, leaning back on her feet as she continued to grow.

She could hear Sarah’s confused sounds as the freshman grew, slower than Riley, but still faster than usual. Riley’s belly button popped loudly in the room of moans and screams and Riley let herself groan loudly as her belly continued to grow.

Sarah’s popped just minutes after Riley’s, and she was less thrilled, screaming as her belly stretched and grew.

At this point, only 20 minutes in, Riley looked pregnant with at least 5. Sarah was behind her, her smaller bump making Riley think she had triplets.

As Riley’s belly continued to grow, tipping her forward, she rearranged so she could still lick Sarah’s pussy, adding more pleasure to the freshman’s experience. Sarah’s bra was still on, and Riley let their bellies clash as she reached to undo it, letting the girl’s breasts spring forward with a moan as the air touched the sensitive nipples.

It was 45 minutes into an hour long class when it all stopped. Riley felt her belly stop growing, and the skin stopped stretching around the mass in her stomach.

Sarah had slowed down sometime during the period, and when Riley gave her a smirking once-over, she was about pregnant with 6 kids, a measly number compared to the 20 that were residing in the junior’s womb.

A glance around the room proved to Riley that she was the biggest in their classroom, once again. She heard a couple groans from the returning class and screams from the new students, and she groaned herself as she felt the contractions start to rip through.

Sarah was sobbing at this point, her legs involuntarily spreading open as a head started to crown from her swollen lips. Riley laid back on the beanbags, swishing her hips from left to right as she felt a baby descend.

It started to crown and she moaned through the ring of fire before a satisfying release of pressure ricocheted through her. She strained to check for a cord around the baby’s neck, already feeling it’s sibling behind it, adding to the pressure.

Satisfied there was no cord, she gave a final push, with the second child’s head popping out right after the first baby’s feet. She continued the process until she was pushing against baby number 15, with the head sliding in and out of her as she pushed.

She felt someone by her head and she looked over to see Sarah, who was finished delivering. “Want some help?”, Sarah asked, and Riley gave a nod.

Sarah went between Riley’s legs, cupping the baby’s head. “Just.. Just pull it out. I’ve got to finish before the bell rings.”, Riley said, and there was a simple hesitation in Sarah’s face.

“Do it, Sarah. P-Pull.”, Riley panted out, and Sarah gripped as gently as she could, pulling the baby free to it’s shoulders. She gave another tug and Riley threw her head back with a scream as the baby came out followed quickly by two more almost falling out of her gaping pussy.

She pushed as the last 3 came with little effort on her part, moving quickly down her stretched reproductive system.

The bell rang just as Riley’s stomach completely deflated, and a group of seniors walked through the room, collecting the children and tagging them for which parent they belonged to.

Riley couldn’t wait for them to join her hundreds of others in the nursery, and she couldn’t wait for the next period. Maybe she’d convince Sarah to return some of the favors that Riley did for her today.

(a/n hello! i hope y'all enjoy, you can find more to come @pumpkinbirth )

You thought you had more time.

Sure, you knew full well you were cutting it close, but you thought you had at least another week left. That was how you’d reasoned yourself into going out today; you were starting to get a little stir-crazy anyway and you figured a walk around the mall might do you some good. Not to mention it was early on a Monday, which meant there would hardly be anybody there, so you could be as leisurely as you pleased.

It also meant there weren’t too many people around when you winced and rubbed your swollen belly, caught off guard by a faint twinge of pain. You were quick to reason this away too; it wasn’t your first bout of braxton-hicks and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. But as you kept walking, they kept coming, and eventually you couldn’t distract yourself any longer.

“Mnh…just gotta sit for a little bit, it’s fine…” you murmured to yourself, your hand still cradling your belly as you sought out a bench not too far away. A loud sigh of relief left you when you finally sat, and you hummed softly as both your hands ran over your bump, the soft fabric of your sundress stretched tightly over it. Feeling better already, you chuckled quietly at how you’d almost panicked over nothing–

“N-nnh…!”

Or what was quickly proving to not be nothing.

That one had hurt, many levels above the slight discomfort you’d experienced before, and your heart raced as it settled in. You were really in labor. You’d parked clear on the other side of the mall, and while initially you thought you might make it back, another contraction gripped you as soon as you stood from the bench.

So that option was out. Ask for help, maybe? You were out of luck on that front too; the mall was pretty much dead, just how you’d anticipated. Now you were really panicking, although you did your best not to show it. What were you going to do?

As you scanned your surroundings, your eyes settled on a bathroom a little ways off. There was a small sign on the front saying it was closed, something about it currently being renovated and if you could please use another of their available bathrooms.

“Fuck tha-aah!-t…” you groaned, clenching your teeth through this contraction. You walked as fast as you could, something in you felt you were rapidly running short on time, and you quickly looked over your shoulder before entering the bathroom, which had blessedly been left unlocked. The door had barely clicked shut when you cried out, they were coming faster and faster now. Your belly felt lower, your hands trembling slightly as you rubbed and attempted to soothe yourself, trying to remember how you should be breathing.

Your train of thought was soon interrupted by a contraction, but this one felt different. Something shifted in you, and you barely managed to stifle a cry as your water finally broke. It just kept coming, a low moan escaping you as you felt the liquid gush down your shaking legs.

“Shit, it’s r-really coming…!” you whimpered, chest heaving with every breath.

It took a moment for you to gather yourself enough to move, carefully sidestepping the puddle of amniotic fluid while it kept trickling out of you, and you finally made it into the handicap stall, not bothering to close it. With your back to the wall you inched your way down until you were seated on the floor, the cool tile a welcome relief against your heated flesh. Once another contraction came and went, you hurriedly shifted your ruined panties down, struggling to finally get them off before your hand moved to your cunt. You whined softly, slipping two fingers into yourself to check how far you were, even though you honestly had no clue what ten centimeters would even feel like. Your cervix certainly felt open enough, and even if it wasn’t you were sure you wouldn’t be able to wait any longer.

You braced yourself against the wall, your hands hooked under your knees to keep your legs as spread as they could go, and when the next contraction came you finally gave in, bearing down with your first push. Despite your best efforts to stay quiet you were quickly losing that battle, and when you pushed again a guttural moan escaped your throat.

“M-mmnnngh, please, c’mon baby, please…” Your hands were on your belly again, pressing down with every push as you tried to hasten things along. After a bit you felt yourself again, your pussy bulging as your baby was on the verge of crowning. In an attempt to feel something besides the searing pain your fingertips brushed over your clit, swollen and throbbing with all your efforts. The pleasure mixed oddly yet perfectly with the pain, and you kept going just like that; one hand rubbing at your tight belly, the other rubbing furious circles at your clit. It wasn’t long before you could feel it coming, and you moaned with loud abandon as several things happened at once; you came, gushing a mix of squirt and birthing fluid, and your hips bucked forward as your baby’s head finally crowned, stretching you impossibly wide.

“Ffffuck!! Oh fuck, a-almost there…!!” Panting heavily, you took this opportunity of clarity to shift positions, gradually propping yourself up to a squat. Your baby felt so heavy between your legs, and you hoped being like this would help it along. You didn’t have to wait long to find out, and with this next contraction you bore down, sweaty hands gripping your thighs. Your laboring cunt stretched wider still, making way for one shoulder, then another, and you moaned loudly as finally, finally the rest of your baby slid out of you. You caught it with shaking hands, blood and birthing fluids dripping from you, and you slid exhausted back onto the bathroom floor.

Imagine You’re the Pregnant CFO of a Successful Company

Hello! You can call me Ros B. First time posting a story here! Feel free to follow me over at @rosbar6678 if you’d like. Hope you enjoy my fic!

–

You shift in your chair, fighting the urge to let out a sigh. You’re 41 weeks pregnant, almost 42, and extremely uncomfortable. Your back has been hurting all day, your massive stomach feels rigid and tight, and there’s a strange growing pressure in your hips that makes it really difficult to sit comfortably at all.

You’re in a board meeting at your company, and your husband, the CEO, is currently presenting on the last quarter’s product line. What had started as an illicit affair between two executives just over a year ago had unexpectedly resulted in you pregnant and married. You still couldn’t totally believe it. It was just supposed to be a bit of fun between you two, something to help blow off steam at the end of a hard day at work (almost quite literally – there was a non-zero chance that your baby was conceived in this very meeting room), but you somehow managed to fall for each other.

You almost roll your eyes at how sappy and cliche it was, thinking about it now. Both you and your husband are very practical and logical people, it’s part of the reason why you both have had such successful careers, but being with him threw all that practically and logic out the window. While he was stern and stoic at work, he was actually a very sweet and thoughtful man outside of it. And when you discovered you were pregnant, you two didn’t even hesitate to go straight to the courthouse to make everything official. You both knew this was jeopardizing your jobs, but neither of you cared. And while you got sternly reprimanded by the board, they ultimately decided to keep you both on. The company had become hugelysuccessful since you both started working there, after all.

And now, your husband was presenting on exactly how successful the company had become, particularly in this last quarter, and you were to be presenting next.

You adjust yourself in the chair again, trying to ease any of the discomfort in your body, but it’s pretty futile. Your husband’s eyes dart over to you for a moment, narrowing imperceptibly as he spoke. He has been trying to get you to go on maternity leave for weeks now, but you’ve refused. Even this morning, as the two of you got ready for work, he tried to convince you to stay home.

“It’s not going to happen, love,” you said loudly as you hefted your now much larger breasts into a bra, pulling the straps on to your shoulders and hooking it around your back.

You heard your husband grumble from the walk-in closet.

“You’re overdue by almost two weeks,” he called out into the bedroom. “The baby can come basically any second. And I swear your stomach has dropped since yesterday. You really should stay home.”

You’ve managed to don a pair of sheer black pantyhose, pulling them up your legs and over your belly, before shimmying into a dark gray pencil skirt.

You certainly couldn’t deny anything your husband has said. All of what he said was true, and then some. For the past few days, it’s felt like more and more weight had descended into the bowl of your pelvis, and your belly definitely hung lower and lower. Despite it’s size, it had always been a fairly “perky” stomach, but that had changed significantly in the last few days. Plus, you had been dealing with your fair share of Braxton Hicks contractions lately, too.

But you wouldn’t be caught dead telling him that.

“I tell you what, my dear husband,” you replied, as you zipped up the back of the skirt, drawing it tight under your belly and around your hips. You turn to look in the mirror, admiring how it hugged your curves. 9 months pregnant and you still got it.

“I will go on maternity leave when you go on paternity leave.

More grumbling from the closet.

"I’m sorry, my love, what was that?”

“Isaid,” he shouted, clearly annoyed, “that I don’t want to go on it yet.”

“Well, neither do I.”

He stepped out of the closet, wearing a sharp navy blue suit and a gray tie with gold diagonal stripes.

“Oh, darling, now, really?” he demanded.

“What?”

“That skirt? Those stockings?”

You rounded on him as you finished buttoning up your white collar maternity shirt. “What’s wrong with my skirt and stockings?”

“Can’t you wear sweatpants like a normal pregnant woman?”

You felt anger flare in your chest. “I don’t wantto wear sweatpants,” you snapped. “Why are you suddenly so hung up on my clothes?”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I just…want you to be comfortable,” he muttered, dropping his hand and looking away from you.

You softened a little at his admission, and approached him.

“You’re always so uncomfortable and I just wish…there was something we could do to help with that…”

Once you were close enough, you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him as close to you as your baby bump would allow.

He still wasn’t looking at you. You could see the tension in his jaw and shoulders.

“You know I could never be comfortable in sweatpants, love, especiallyat work,” you said as you reached up to adjust his tie.

He sighed again, closing his eyes and tilting his head down to rest against the top of yours. “I know, darling,” he said, resigned, his hands coming up to cradle your stomach. Your baby gave a solid kick against his palm.

“Look,” you began, smoothing his tie back against his shirt, “I promise I’ll go on maternity leave tomorrow.”

He pulled away a little in surprise, and you looked up at him, smiling.

“Really?” he asked, relief on his face.

“Yes.” You leaned up and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I just really want to present at the board meeting today. I worked so hard to leave the company in a good place before we left! Let me just have this victory lap.”

“I know, I know.” He kissed you again, running his hands from your stomach to your hips and back again. “And you deserve a victory lap.”

“You’re goddamn right I do,” you said, grinning, pulling away from him. “I mean, who successfully negotiated the merger with Equiva?”

“You did.”

“And who saved the company almost 20 million dollars in the last three months?” you asked, pulling on a suit jacket to match your skirt.

“Youdid.”

This conversation continued in much the same way as the two of you gathered your things to leave for work…at least until, much to your husband’s chagrin, you put on your 3 inch stiletto heels.

That was several hours ago, but it felt even longer than that. Your husband has been watching you like a hawk all day and even in the middle of his presentation, his attention wasn’t totally diverted from you. You try to keep your face neutral, idly tapping your pen against your cheek.

He finally looks away from you, and you let out a small exhale of relief. You would not put it past him to stop this entire meeting in a heartbeat if he thought something was wrong.

The minutes tick past. You try to not squirm and shift around so much, but you can’t help it. You’re souncomfortable. The pain in your back is getting worse, and so is that incredible pressure in your hips. Your stomach has been cramping and tightening over and over again, intensifying that pressure. You attempt to spread your legs to ease some of the discomfort in your pelvis, but that pencil skirt you insisted on wearing doesn’t allow for much of that. Are these more Braxton Hicks contractions? Or are these…real–?

You quickly push that question out of your mind, huffing.

You try to pay attention to the meeting, but you can’t help it, your focus is turning more and more inward, the more and more your body tenses and twists against your will. Even your baby seems to be against you, kicking up a storm against your ribs. You try to keep your breathing steady and even, and you cup your hands underneath your belly and press up, weakly attempting to lift some of the weight off your straining back and hips.

Maybe your husband was right…maybe you should have stayed home…

You don’t know how much time has passed when you suddenly hear your husband say your name, startling you out of your thoughts.

“…our amazing CFO, who will now report on last quarter’s record earnings.”

Everyone applauds as you stand up and your husband heads over to his seat opposite yours, never taking his eyes off you. You just barely manage to suppress a groan as you haul yourself up on unsteady feet, a hand still cupping your heavy stomach.

You force a smile as you approach the front of the meeting room. It almost feels like your baby’s head is already wedged in between your legs, and you vainly try to not walk so bowlegged. You stand behind the podium, looking out at the two dozen other executives and board members, and begin your presentation.

You’re incredibly thankful that you practiced it so much that you could basically present it in your sleep. Standing has made your back pain even worse, and it feels like gravity is slowly pulling your baby deeper into your hips. You keep trying to spread your legs, but again, that damn pencil skirt keeps your thighs much closer together than you’d like.

You can feel sweat break out along your hairline, and you keep compulsively running your hands through your hair to try and subtly wipe it off. Your stomach feels like it’s permanently seized up, gone completely rock hard, and it seems to hang lower than even this morning. 

You can see your husband out of the corner of your eye. He’s leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed, his lips a hard line. You know that face. That’s the face he makes when he’s trying to figure out if something is wrong.

You swallow hard. You get a little flustered and you stumble over your words a bit, but you keep going. You are going to finish this presentation, dammit. 

You shift your legs again, trying to find some measure of relief. God, the pressure is getting so bad, it’s making the whole lower half of your body shake, and now you’re cursing your stiletto heels along with your skirt. You have one hand holding the remote to flip through the slides, but the other is gripping the edge of the podium so hard that you wouldn’t be surprised if you crushed the cheap wood in your grasp.

A terrible spasm shoots through you, making your voice catch for just a moment. It sends pain radiating up your back, down your thighs, and makes your vaginal muscles clench involuntarily. You almost groan at the sensation, as it felt like they were clenching down on…something…

You’re now flipping quickly through the last of your slides, just going over the very basic points for each one, and another sharp pain rockets through you. Your voice wavers as you resist the urge to moan. It takes all of your willpower to not just tear off your skirt right there and drop down into a squat behind the podium, to push your knees as far apart as they can go, to try to make some space within your pelvis to ease some of this maddening pressure. 

Fuck, this is all getting to be so much that you almost feel like you need to push…

You can’t help but notice that your husband is shifting around in his seat almost as much as you were. He knows this presentation almost as well as you, and he knows you’re rushing through the end of it. He looks like he’s about to jump out of his chair right when you shoot him a pleading look. Please. I’m almost done. Just give me a few more minutes. Please.

Your legs are pressing so hard against the sides of your skirt, you’re surprised the seams haven’t ripped. You’re so hot that you’re simultaneously both frustrated that you left your suit jacket on and grateful you did, otherwise everyone would be able to see you sweating straight through your white blouse. Your stomach has never felt heavier, and it’s hanging so low that the underside of it is peeking out from under said blouse, and you are confident it was definitely not doing that when you got dressed this morning…

“In conclusion,” you say, your voice straining slightly. 

The pressure inside you is climbing, climbing…your muscles are spasming and it feels like your baby’s head is so deep inside you it’s already trying to force your legs apart. You clear your throat, and take a breath.

“In conclusion, I –”

The pressure reaches it’s apex. You almost cry out from the pain. But instead, you feel something break inside you, and to your horror, fluid gushes out from between your legs to splatter audibly on the floor.

There’s a moment of shocked silence. You’re visibly shaking as you look down at the puddle beneath you.

“I – I think my water just broke,” you say softly.

There’s a moment of commotion from your colleagues, but then your husband is on his feet.

“Out!” he shouts. “Everyone, out!”

The small crowd of people quickly head towards the door as your husband rushes straight at you, looking furious.

“You’re in labor, aren’t you?” he demands. “God dammit, I told you that you should’ve stayed home!”

As soon as he’s close enough, you reach for him, barely paying attention to what he’s saying. You pull him close and press your head to his chest, gasping and moaning. The pressure is now the worst it’s ever been, becoming completely unbearable, and without hesitating, you grit your teeth, grab fistfuls of your husband’s jacket, and push.

That heavy weighty feeling deep inside you slides even lower, and you let out a guttural groan, almost of relief, as you finally give in to your body’s demands. You can barely hear your husband speaking to you over the blood rushing through your ears and the desperate noises you’re making (he’s saying something about getting to the hospital), but then realization seems to strike him and he demands, “Are you pushing?”

You can only nod in response as you stop for a moment to catch your breath, before wincing and taking in sharp inhales of air between clenched teeth as your stomach somehow tightens even more.

“Don’t! Don’t push!” he yells, panicking. 

“I can’t!” you grit out. There is so much pain and pressure and weight inside of you, wedged tightly inside your pelvis, and you need to get it out now!

“I can’t, hnngh, god, I can’t, oh god, oh, oh!”

You gasp, feeling something new… You let go of your husband’s jacket to reach under your skirt, and you cry out in shock as your fingers brush against your completely soaked stockings. Your labia is bulgingout from you – the baby’s head is right there!

“Help –!” you cry breathlessly, releasing your husband to reach behind yourself, fumbling with the zipper of your skirt. “Help me get this off!”

Your husband starts to object, but another contraction grips you, making you wail, cutting him off.

“There’s no time!” You grab his hand and force it underneath your skirt, between your barely parted legs. Your husband curses in surprise, his fingers pressing against your opening as it distends outwards from your child’s encroaching head. “The baby is coming now!”

He quickly reaches around to try to unzip the skirt. You fall back against the podium, still desperately trying to separate your legs to make room for your baby. He’s yanking on the zipper, but it doesn’t move.

“Fuck, it’s jammed,” he mutters, but before you can say anything, he slides his hands quickly up your thighs, rucking the skirt up your hips and underneath your enormous belly, allowing you to finallyspread your legs. That action alone makes it feel like your baby drops several inches, almost like it was about to fall right out of you, but was caught at the last minute by your seizing vaginal muscles, the sensation making you yelp in surprise.

You’re leaning back against the podium now, gripping the edge of it, in as wide a stance as you can manage in your heels, bending your knees slightly. You’re panting and whimpering, and all your muscles start to tighten and clench again in another contraction. You throw your head back with a groan, feeling your body heave against the hefty mass of your baby as it slid forward a bit more, and you quickly join in with a desperate push of your own.

You groan even louder as you feel yourself start to spread wide, your parting lips brushing against the fabric of your underwear as your baby’s head starts to crown.

“Oh god, it’s coming, it’s coming!”

You suddenly realize that you still have your panties and stockings on, but your husband is way ahead of you, already trying to tug your leggings down.

“Shit shit shit,” he mutters. The stockings aren’t budging – you hiked them up over your stomach when you were getting dressed earlier this morning, but your pencil skirt is cinched tightly around your hips, preventing them from easily sliding off your legs.

“Oh, get them off, please!” you beg, voice straining from your efforts. They’re so tight against you that they almost feel like they’re pressing the baby back in at the same time you’re trying to push it out.

Your husband lets out a noise of frustration, before dropping to his knees and bunching the stocking in the inside of your left thigh in both hands.

You stop pushing for just a moment, just to take a breath, but your pantyhose immediately drives the baby back into you, and you wail in anguish.

“Get them off, get them off!”

Your husband seems to be trying to rip them open, his nails digging into the fabric, but they’re sliding in his grasp from their sheerness and from being doused in fluids.

Another contraction takes you, hard and fast, and you can barely gasp in a bit of air before you’re pushing again, struggling to force the top of your baby to stretch out your skintight nylons.

“Please get them off!”

“I told you you shouldn’t have worn these!” he shouts, before finally ripping them apart, tearing a hole up towards the crotch. You jump when you feel him hook his fingers into your panties and tugs them to the side, the cloth once again brushing against your most sensitive parts.

“Holy shit,” he breathes. All the anger in his voice disappears instantly, replaced with shock. He stammers out your name, looking up at you. “I – I can see the head!”

You try to respond, but all you can do is nod. You can definitely feelthe head, hard and unforgiving, causing a terrible pressurized burn between your trembling thighs as you try to maintain the push, shrieking and crying out in agony.

The contraction mercifully ends, but you whimper in despair when you feel the baby slide a little back inside you, even without the stockings. You pant, your eyes sliding shut, trying to catch your breath in preparation for your next push. 

God, everything hurts. Your stomach hurts from the intensity of your contractions, your back hurts from the straining weight of your belly, your hips hurts from your baby filling the space between them with it’s seemingly massive body, your legs hurt from having to keep them so far apart, your feet hurt from those stupid high heels, even your throat is starting to hurt from all the noises you’re making.

You suddenly feel your husband’s hand gently rubbing the outside of your leg, startling you. You look down, and he’s gazing back up at you, eyes wide, his other hand still between your legs. Your normally calm, stoic husband looks uncharacteristically scared and excited at the same time.

“The baby’s almost here,” he says. “It’s almost here. You’re doing so great, darling.”

You can’t help but give him a shaky smile, but that quickly turns to a grimace as your uterus tightens painfully inside of you. You gasp as you feel the baby slip out of you a little more, even without you pushing, and you take a deep breath and bear down.

You almost immediately throw your head back, biting back a cry of pain. You’re being spread and stretched and pulled apart, and god, god, it burns so much. You want to stop, you want all of this to stop, but your body bears down anyway, indifferent to your suffering, forcing your huge baby through an opening far too small for it.

“Push! Push, darling!” your husband shouts.

“I can’t! Oh, god, I can’t!”

“Yes, you can! Push!”

You grit your teeth and do as he says, because what other choice do you have? Shutting your eyes tightly, you push with everything you’ve got, the burning sensation magnifying with every centimeter of ground your baby makes.

“Nnngh! Gah! F-fuck, oh god, it hurts!”

“Keep going, love!”

You take a deep breath and heave against your baby as hard as you can, when the burning spikes suddenly and horribly, and an anguished scream is torn from your throat.

“The baby’s crowning!” your husband yells.

You barely register what he’s saying as another sharp spasm immediately shoots through you, triggering you into another involuntary push. You almost instantly regret it, as your baby lurches down and a sudden lancing pain, the worst pain you’ve felt so far, jolts up from between your legs, feeling as if you were being cut open with fire.

“The head’s halfway out!”

You scream in sheer agony, arching your back, tossing your head, and standing up on your tiptoes in your heels. The contraction fades, but to your horror, the searing, stinging pain from your baby’s skull remains, splitting you so impossibly wide that you’re sure that at any moment, your sensitive flesh was going to tear right open. You can vaguely hear your husband yelling at you to breathe, but you can only let out another ear piercing scream and push, desperate to get the head out and end the agony.

Your inner muscles clench and spasm around your child’s enormous head, trying to find purchase, as you struggle to expel it from your tortured body without the aid of a contraction. You’re howling mindlessly from the pain, almost bucking your hips as if to shake the baby free, and for one terrifying moment you think it might be stuck. But then there’s a sudden popping sensation, like a cork from a bottle of champagne, making you gasp. Fluid sprays your inner thighs, and a sudden merciful release of tension and pain floods your system.

You slump back a little against the podium, releasing the edges to catch yourself on your elbows. Your legs are shaking wildly now, and it’s a small miracle you’re still standing up.

“The head’s out! It’s out!”

You try to lean forward to see, panting and gasping, but your stomach is in the way. Your husband has both hands between your legs and you can feel the backs of them brushing against your skin. Something heavy dangles uncomfortably from your body. You’re trembling from exhaustion and effort, you’re drenched in sweat, and your vaginal walls throb painfully against your baby.

“Check –” you manage to stammer out, remembering something from one of the many books you read in preparation for the birth. “Ch-check for the c-cord.”

Your husband grunts in acknowledgement, and you inhale sharply as he slides his fingers between your battered, sensitive lips and the baby’s head. You adjust your stance a little and feel your thigh brush against it, sticky and hot.

“Shit –” he mutters.

You gasp, feeling a contraction start.

“Shit, god dammit –” He says your name sharply, immediately grabbing your attention. 

“What?

"Don’t push.”

Panic grips you, almost as hard as the contraction.

“D-don’t?”

“I think the cord is around the baby’s neck, don’t push!”

You feel your husband’s fingers fumble around, and the pressure inside you starts to grow.

“Ah!” You pant, rocking your hips back and forth, but your husband stops you with one firm grip on your upper thigh.

“Hold still.”

You freeze, your inner walls pulsating and tightening around your baby’s heavy, squirming body as it rotates within you. The sensation is overwhelming, and you tilt your head back, mouth hanging open as you pant desperately.

“Hurry,” you manage to gasp out between breaths.

You’re fighting, fighting against that growing wave of unbearable pressure, with everything you have, but it’s not enough. Your muscles seize up, almost violently, and push against your will, and with the aid of gravity, you feel your labia start to spread apart again.

“Don’t push!" 

"I’m not, I’m not!” you cry breathlessly. “I swear I’m not – I – oh! Oh, god!”

Your body crushes down on the baby again, inching it out of you.

“Oh no, god, please –”

“Hold on –”

“Please, I need to –”

“Ok –”

“I need to push!”

“OK, push!”

And with a great guttural yell, you bear down once again, thrusting your hips forward. Mercifully, your baby starts to slide out of you, one shoulder popping out –

“Oh!" 

– and then the other –

"OOH!”

You shudder, your baby hanging halfway out of you, your body still gripping onto it stubbornly.

"You’re so close, darling, just one more –”

You push your knees apart, drop your hips into a slight squat, and give one final desperate push. There’s an incredible rushing sensation, startling you and making you shriek, followed by a torrent of liquids gushing out from between your legs, and suddenly, all of that pain and pressure is gone.

You’re still somehow standing upright, gripping the podium behind you for dear life. Your head is still tossed back, looking up at the ceiling, mouth hanging half open as you catch your breath. Your vaginal muscles are still weakly clamping and twitching around nothing, sending small shudders through your aching body.

Suddenly, you hear a cry.

Your head snaps down to look, and you see over your still enormous belly, your husband, kneeling on the floor in a puddle of milky pink fluids, the whole front of him completely soaked. 

But there, in his arms, is a baby.

It’s bright pink and wailing, kicking it’s little legs and flailing it’s little arms. Your husband looks up at you, looking completely shocked, and says, in a shaking voice,

“It’s a girl.”

You blink, the words slowly filtering into your mind.

“A – a girl?” you stammer, breathless.

He nods, holding the baby – your daughter– up to you, and as if on instinct, you quickly unbutton your blouse. Once it falls open, you gather your baby in your arms and cradle her against your skin, as she continues to cry in protest.

Your husband falls back onto his butt, resting his arms on his raised knees, his head hanging down. His shoulders are shaking, and you don’t know if he’s laughing or crying. As you watch him, dazed, you vainly attempt to comprehend the magnitude of what just happened. You just gave birthduring a meeting at your job, and your husbanddelivered the baby. You’re standing in 3 inch pumps, your stockings are torn open, your skirt is bunched up around your hips, and your breasts are completely out on display (although still in their bra). Your baby is wriggling against you, wailing loudly, still covered in blood and amniotic fluid and who knows what else, the umbilical cord dangling between you. You’re completely out of breath, your head is spinning from exertion and shock, and you suddenly say out loud to your husband, without even really realizing it,

“I ruined your suit.”

Your husband snaps his head up to look at you, looking absolutely incredulous.

“What?”

“I – I ruined your suit –” you say again.

He bursts out laughing.

“I really liked that suit –” you add, weakly.

He scrambles to his feet, still laughing, and as if in emphasis, wipes his hands on the back of his sleek wool pants, before bringing them to rest on your hips as he leans down to kiss you.

“I love you so much,” he says.

You start to respond, when suddenly the doors to the meeting room burst open and a group of EMTs rush in. Someone must’ve called 911. They all descend upon you and the baby, helping you onto a stretcher, examining the baby, and interrogating you with a myriad of questions (including one EMT, a woman, demanding in shock, “You gave birthinthoseshoes?!”)

You lose your husband in the chaos for a moment as you lay down on the stretcher with your daughter still resting on your chest. Panic grips you, and you call out his name. He’s suddenly there by your side, your hand in his, looking at you as if you’re the only person in the room.

“Don’t leave me,” you say, feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable.

He kisses the back of your hand fiercely. “Never.”

“Hey, hey, Mr. Midwife!” one of the male EMTs says jovially, holding out a pair of scissors to your husband. “You did so well delivering the baby, we thought you might like to cut the cord!”

Your husband smiles brilliantly as he takes the scissors with his free hand. The EMT directs him to cut the cord between two clamps, just an inch or so from her belly button, and with a few quick snips, your daughter’s body is separated from your own.

They drape a blanket over you and your baby and wheel you out of the meeting room, past all your shocked colleagues and coworkers, into the elevator and then outside to the ambulance, your husband staying by your side the whole time. Your baby is still mewling and crying, and that same female EMT from earlier suggests that maybe she’s hungry.

Once in the ambulance, you shrug off your shirt and undo your bra, freeing your breasts, and you bring your daughter up to one dark nipple. She instantly latches on and begins nursing, and you gasp in surprise and joy.

You look up at your husband excitedly, who laughs and kisses the side of your head. Now that the shock has started to wear off, an overwhelming sense of love and protection for your daughter has replaced it. You can barely take your eyes off her, you count her fingers and toes over and over again as she nurses. You smooth her little wisps of hair back, the same color as her father’s, as she blinks up at you with eyes that match yours. Your husband traces the curves of her little cheek with his finger, before pushing that same finger against one of her palms, and her tiny hand closes around it.

He kisses you again, his hand stroking through your hair, as he says softly to you, “You were amazing, darling. You were so amazing. I love you so, so much.”

You turn to kiss him on the lips. “I love you, too.” You tilt your head forward to press against his, closing your eyes. “You were pretty amazing yourself. I can’t believe you delivered our baby.”

“Hey, I just caught her. You were the one who did all the work.”

At the hospital, your daughter is quickly whisked away for tests as you deliver the placenta. The lovely staff were kind enough to lend your husband a set of clean, dry, hospital green scrubs. When your daughter is returned to you, she’s all swaddled up, and given a clean bill of health, coming in at 9lbs, 13oz.

“Nine pounds?!” you exclaim as your husband takes her from the nurse.

“And 13 ounces!” the nurse adds, cheerfully. “22 inches long and a head 15 inches around.”

“Oh my god,” you say quietly, completely stunned. “No wonder that hurt so much…”

“You can say that again! Can’t believe you delivered her with no pain medication!”

Your husband sits down in the rocking chair next to your bed, cradling your daughter close as he starts speaking to her, not paying attention to your exchange with the nurse.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says in a sing-song voice. “Hey, you gave us quite a scare today, showing up when you did.”

The nurse checks a few things before leaving you with your new family, insisting you get some sleep.

You lean back against the pillows as you close your eyes, your hands resting on your slightly deflated stomach, listening to your husband speak softly to your daughter. You’re exhausted. There are muscles in your body that you didn’t even know exist that are already starting to ache. You want to stay awake, to watch your husband interact with his first born child, but you can already feel yourself drifting off. Bits and pieces of their “conversation” filter in as you start to doze, but it’s his comment of, “…now that you’re here, Mommy is finally gonna take some time off and relax…” that grabs your attention.

You rouse yourself from sleep as best you can. “Not yet,” you say, your words slurring together.

“Hmm? What was that, darling?”

It takes you a moment to respond as you drift in and out of consciousness.

“’m not taking maternity leave yet.”

You hear your husband laugh.

“…didn’ finish…my quarterly reportsssss…”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“…need to finish ‘em tomorrow…”

He laughs again, but he sounds much more uncertain this time.

“You're…you’re kidding,” he says. When you don’t respond, he repeats more insistently, “Darling, you’re kidding, right?”

But you don’t reply, finally falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Photogenic

Gigi was considered a local beauty. Glossy black hair that extended to her shoulders, golden eyes that shined with the sun, and with curves that most women would envy. But now, Gigi is curvier than usual. She caressed the huge swell of her well overdue baby bump in front of the photography studio in the bustling shopping complex. She caught the gaze of many with her low cut sundress that accentuated her full breasts and sundress that made her round stomach pop out even more. But the lustful gazes weren’t on her mind.

Today was the day she thought. This was her 4th pregnancy - the 3rd pregnancy she made photo content for and the 1st she’d ever have her labor photographed for content. Her family chastised her a lot during her  2nd and 3rd pregnancy for making sexy pictures for people online, but there was good money in it and it made her feel super sexy. Plus, this time no one in her family even knew she was pregnant, except for her husband of course.

Gigi’s stomach became a hard ball and an enormous pressure built up in her pelvis. The pair did nothing more than make her moan almost out loud. She had practice stifling how labor truly made her feel through her first 3 experiences. Her first birth, she’d almost orgasmed when the baby started crowning and during the third, her water broke when she was in the car with her mother-in-law and had to stifle moans only her husband heard in bed when she labored.

The door to the studio opened and Gigi felt a big hand press on her lower back and another started rubbing circles around her bump.

“Ready to get started, babe?” Her husband, Jay, asked.

“Mmm yeah, contractions are getting close,” Gigi said. She almost moaned it out.

Jay owned the photography studio and had it closed for the day just so they could get these pictures. Jay had taken plenty of her photos throughout the pregnancy for content. Jay and Gigi walked into the studio and Jay locked the door.

They wanted complete privacy. Jay led Gigi into the back most photography area where lights, a professional grade camera and several different pieces of props and extra equipment were at the ready.

Jay picked up a chair and placed it in the middle of the photo area. “Alright, sit here and pull your dress tight on your bump. Gonna take some test photos.”

Gigi’s flowy sundress already made it really easy for people to see her bump anyway, but the pull drove home how big she was. She only tugged her dress back a bit to outline the full sphere of her belly. She and her husband made big babies and this one certainly proved it. Gigi’s stomach was incredibly ball-like, filling up the entire space of her body between the bottom of her breasts and the top of her hips. Even with her stomach dropping these past few weeks it looked huge on her.

Jay snapped a few pictures, some while she was sitting and a few side profile, standing photos. A contraction wrapped itself around her stomach and back, making her belly tense beneath her palm.

Jay saw an opportunity. “Get into a squat and pull up your dress just enough to see your pussy. Rub your belly too.”

Gigi got down and pulled her dress up. She didn’t wear panties so her moistened vagina was exposed to the camera already. As she pulled up her dress she grazed up against her clit and trembled, trying to stifle a moan.

“That’s it babe, you’re doing great,” Jay snapped more pictures when her face contorted with the sensation of her sensitive clit. Gigi could see Jay’s pants begin to tent outward. This always happened when he took pictures for her. Jay was sexually insatiable throughout all of her pregnancies to the point where they’d even done it in their car after a shopping trip and once in a family bathroom.

“All right, now slowly move your skirt over your belly,” he instructed with lust in his eyes.

Gigi slowly pulled her skirt up over her bump. Her stomach was super smooth and tight, a sizable kick hitting the side of her stomach at the same time. Her belly button was only a tiny dimple in her otherwise perfectly smooth sphere. As she pulled up her skirt she traced the dark line that went through her belly as sensually as possible.

“Good, good, now massage your boobs for a bit.”

Gigi tucked the skirt underneath her milk filled breasts and then clutched one in her palms. A soft moan came from her mouth as the fabric rubbed up against her sensitive nipples. Her own desire went ahead of Jay’s instruction; she peeled the rest of her dress over and off of her. Her strained and milk filled breasts dropped on top of her belly as she tossed her dress to the side.

Gigi’s tits were incredibly firm and large, taking both in her hands felt like she was grasping footballs. She took her saucer like areolas and dark nipples in between her finger tips. Gigi moaned as translucent liquid dripped from them to her belly. Gigi then rubbed the milk into her bump like it was lotion, her baby kicking at her hand as she made the motions. Jay continued to trigger the camera’s shutter through this, barely able to contain himself while seeing his wife like this.

Jay gulped hard. “Do you uh, wanna do other positions now?”

“Mmm, yeah,” Gigi said, still taken by her own body.

After taking a few more nude poses showing off her stretched under belly and leaking tits. Gigi felt a familiar pressure build in her cervix. She could feel her waters waiting to burst and got up from her position on the floor to approach Jay.

“Babe, I want you to break my water,” Gigi put her palm on the bulge of Jay’s pants and got onto her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, pressing her laboring bump onto his body. “Film yourself fucking me into stronger labor, I need it.”

Jay’s eyes flashed with lust and immediately switched the camera into recording mode. Gigi lowered her pregnant form to the floor again and spread her legs as Jay shifted the camera angle and took off his pants.

Once Jay finished getting just the right angle, he let the tip of his cock graze the lips of her pussy. She moaned as her clit was rubbed by his eager dick.

“You want me to pop you?” Jay asked, continuing to tease her clit. “You wanna pop on my dick my little breeder babe?”

“Oh yes, please, force me to give birth to another of your babies,” Gigi said, rubbing from her dimpled navel to her aching underbelly.

Jay slowly moved his dick into her tight pussy. A contraction made her canal tighten around his cock. Gigi made an open mouthed moan as her husband felt made her so much fuller. The full feeling in her canal is what made her love pregnant sex and birth so much, just the the feeling of being stuffed was so euphoric. The contraction intensified. She always wanted Jay to fuck her while she was in the midst of labor and now she could without their family helicoptering over her like she was in imminent danger. She wished she could see their faces react to her overdue pregnant body preparing to push out a huge baby get fucked by her husband.

Jay started moving faster  and faster, the tip of his dick bulging. His breath increased in pace. The pressure built as Jay kept thrusting into her pussy. He put his hand on her belly, rubbing circles around her belly button and gripping the taut flesh underneath his palms. She loved the feeling of his hands on her bump, claiming what is his, what he did to her body. It made her pussy crave his cum more. Even when they would go to bed, Jay wrapping his around her pregnant swell would make her clit ache for pleasure.

“Babe, move faster, I need your cum before I break,” the pressure in Gigi’s cervix had peaked with her need to orgasm.

Jay picked up his speed and moved the camera to get a view of his cock going in and out of her pussy. Jay grunted and Gigi felt his dick tremble as her canal contracted like it was trying to milk the cum from him. Gigi’s belly went hard and she arched her back, making Jay go deeper into her. Jay thrusted hard with finality and came deep inside, splashing hot cum onto her cervix.

Gigi’s body trembled with orgasm and an intense contraction, her mouth wide in a moan of ecstasy. Then the pressure that had been building released. First a squirt, then a gush, fluid splattered on Jay’s crotch. Gigi’s stomach quivered with relief of both pressure and orgasm.

“Oooooh, babe, that felt so good,” Gigi closed her eyes and let the feeling over her. She rubbed the sides of her belly while it continued to contract. Jay bent down and planted a kiss right on her belly button before removing his still hard cock and getting the camera to take pictures of the cum leaking from her laboring pussy.

From there, labor progressed faster, but Gigi continued to feel nothing but pleasure. With every pregnancy her laboring had gotten a little shorter. She remembered being in labor with her first for a total of 30 hours. She’d only been in labor for 2 hours before getting to the studio for this one. It saddened Gigi that she couldn’t have a longer labor, but she made sure she enjoyed it as much as she could. The head of her baby was just making its way into her birth canal as Jay took photos of her on her hands and knees, letting her big belly hang down and graze the floor. She currently had a vibrator to her clit, and while the ingrained desire to push wasn’t lost to her, she desired to cum again more. Her stomach contracted in on her as the vibrations started to overstimulate her. She sucked in air she instinctively bore down on her baby and moaned as she started cumming. The baby quickly started to bulge her pussy.

“Oooh, Jay, the baby is coming now,” she turned off the vibrator and turned her toward the camera.

“You’re doing great, babe, just like that,” Jay snapped a few more photos.

The angle wasn’t good for birth and made the baby recede a bit, but that was fine. Gigi loved how full her pussy felt. Her breath started to become a wispy moan yet again as the baby slowly continued to bulge out with her pushes.

Gigi got off her knees and laid on her side, bringing up one of her legs to her abdomen and holding it there with one of her hands. The baby started moving faster through her and spreading the lips of her pussy. Only the shutter of the camera and her groans echoed through the studio. Gigi used her free hand to rub her clit. She threw her head back as she approached another orgasm and her baby’s huge head reached a full crown.

“Oh god, this feels so fucking GOOD!” She yelled just as the baby’s head came with a gush of fluid. She quickly checked for a cord and went back to flicking her clit. The shoulders spread her wide again and with pitched, sensual scream, slid out of her throbbing lips as she came.

Gigi gasped as the rest of the baby slid out on the floor. She bent forward, picked up the baby, a girl, and started rubbing its back. After a few seconds it let out a healthy wail. Jay took a couple more photos of the scene before rushing over to his wife and newborn.

Gigi loved holding her new baby, but the immediate emptiness of her belly left her wanting. She wanted a longer labor and a bigger belly next time.

“How about we do baby no. 5 and 6 at the same time?” Gigi said as she brought their mewling newborn to her leaky breasts.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Jay said, taking a personal selfie of the three of them to commemorate the birth.

Photoshoot

This was a story I wrote and posted to my personal blog but I thought people here would like it too :)

By @pregnancyismykink :)

**

“That’s it. To the side a little. Yep there ya go, gorgeous!”

Leila continued to pose for the camera, pulling her hair up and out of her face, pursing her lips, sticking her chest out to show the new Victoria Secret bra they were branding.

“That’s perfect Leila. We’re done for the day.” People mill around the room, starting to clean up the lights and clothes racks. Leila wraps a robe around herself and heads to her dressing room.

They may be done with this photoshoot, but she’s not done for the day. She waits in the dressing room, touching up her makeup and her hair.

There’s a small bottle of pills on her desk and she pops a few, taking a deep breath before dropping a hand between her legs, beneath the waistband of the lacy underwear.

She’s done this so many times, pleased herself while waiting for her next shoot to start, but it never gets old. She’s gentle at first, rubbing her hand up and down her folds, adding some pressure.

She dips a finger between her folds and touches the wetness there, soaking her finger before bringing it to her clit in a slow circle. Her head falls back against the back of the chair, her mouth open in a soft sigh.

The warmth begins to build between her legs and she lifts her legs to rest them on the desk, spreading them further apart. She circles her clit a few times, her hips rolling with the movement, and she moans as she pushes two fingers into her slick heat.

It’s soaking wet now, the pills helping her along, and it makes sucking sounds every time she pulls her fingers out and pushes them back in.

She continues this for a while, just enjoying the slow building warmth and the slick dripping from her folds. She knows better than to push herself over the edge though. She has to save that for the shoot.

A knock sounds on the door and she knows it’s time to go. She sighs softly as she takes her fingers out, rubbing her clit one more time and shuddering as the spike of pleasure it shoots through her.

She stands on shaky legs, putting on her heels, and then heads out to the photo shoot area. The director must want her by herself today because there’s toys all over the floor next to the plush chair in front of the camera.

“Leila, darling. I hope we didn’t keep you long.”

“No longer than usual. What’s our theme today?”

The director smiles and pulls a strand of Leila’s hair over her shoulder. “There’s a new product they’ve just released. They’ve asked us to do an exclusive shoot for it.”

She raises a brow at that, knowing they don’t usually accept offers from brand new products since their magazine is too highly rated to deal with amateurs.

The director just shakes his head and grins. “This is a good one, I promise. The pay you’ll take away from this will last you years.”

That gets her attention. It’s not like she was hurting for money anyways, but she enjoyed having the extra spending money from the odd jobs he liked to give her.

“Just trust me dear. You took those pills today right?”

She nodded, taking a deep breath and removing her robe. “Let’s just get this over with. I’d like to get home before midnight tonight.”

He smiles and takes her robe, signaling to the people in the room it’s time to start. Leila ignores everyone, checking out the pile of toys littered around the photoshoot area, picking up a particularly beautiful egg shaped toy.

It felt hard and heavy, almost like it was made of Stone, the swirling specks of black amongst the blue making it stand out heavily. She smiles softly and notices there’s several of them, all in varying sizes. Her eyes catch on one particularly large one, bright red with orange highlights, looking like nothing other than a fire. She picks it up and feels her vagina clench, eager to take it inside her.

She gently sets it next to the chair in easy reach, then checks the other toys. There’s a sizeable dildo seemingly stuffed with some kind of thick white liquid and she sets it next to the egg, knowing she’ll use those together. She also notes the vibrator, butt plug, anal beads, and spreader bar, all artfully laid out for her choosing.

She picks up the butt plug, marveling at the near crystal like shape at the end of it. It looks expensive and incredibly well made, and upon closer inspection she notices a little button. She presses it and the plug immediately starts vibrating in her hands.

She can feel herself dripping now, her underwear soaked through easily. She sets it off to the side with the other toys she grabbed and settles into the chair, waiting for the instructions.

It’s another few minutes but the director comes up next to the camera man, clapping his hands for everyone’s attention. “Alright everyone. We’re going to get started here soon. As we will be filming a video for our online viewers, I don’t want any idle chatter unless it’s coming from Leila.” Everyone nods in understanding.

He then looks at Leila. “Leila dearest, you just do what you do best. The camera will be on you. Use the safe word if we need to stop.”

Leila shudders a little, the excitement of being the center of attention still something that turns her on so much. The lights dim, the spotlights are turned on, and Leila spreads her legs, leaning back in the chair with her hands behind her head.

“Action!”

The room falls silent and Leila smiles demurely at the camera as it moves in a little closer.

“Hmmm hi everyone. We’re trying something new today.” She checks the cards the director holds up. “Dragonborn Products releases a new line of toys and they asked me to brand them. Enjoy…” she winks at the camera, sticking a finger in her mouth and then down into her underwear where she’s still dripping wet.

A soft sigh escapes her and she stands from the chair seductively, reaching behind her to unclip the bra, pulling it off and letting her full breasts fall. As models go, she has one of the biggest chests of the agency, and they adore her for it.

She moans and rubs her breasts, turning her head to the side so her hair falls artfully over her shoulder. She tweaks her nipples, gasping playfully as they perk up and turn red from the attention.

She bounces a little on her toes, letting her breasts bounce on her chest, knowing people enjoy this a lot in their videos. She turns around, stretching up, then bends over to pick up the heavy butt plug from beside the chair.

She looks seductively over her shoulder, smiling at the camera as she drops a hand between her legs, wetting her fingers with her own slick.

The camera man moves in, focusing on her soaked panties and her fingers as she pushes them in and out of her folds, and she giggles playfully, pulling her panties down to reveal her slick soaked folds.

She puts the fat end of the plug between her folds, slicking it up before pressing it against her ass. It puckers around the tip, and she sighs softly, letting her eyes fall closed and her mouth open in a silent oh.

The plug goes in easily, her hole taking it right in like she’s trained herself to do, and she squeezes her ass around it, letting it in a little further until it pops in past her rim, locking in place.

“Hmmmm that feels so goood,” she moans out. The camera focuses in on the crystal at the end of the plug, and Leila presses the little button. It starts vibrating immediately and she gasps, her hips jerking forward with the new feeling.

“Fuck…that’s amazing…” She shudders, her thighs shaking a little at the force of the vibrations. It’s pressing right up against something inside her that she’s never felt before and it’s almost too much.

She takes a few deep breaths, calming down the heat inside her, before slowly turning back over to sit on the chair. The change in angle makes her moan, sitting on the plug as it vibrates only making it more intense.

She opens her eyes to check the time and it’s only been 10 minutes. She’s never been so close to finishing at only 10 minutes in. Never.

Her pussy clenches and she grips her breasts, squeezing and fondling them as she moves her hips around in circles. She has to stop though, far too close to the edge to keep going like that.

She shakily reaches for the dildo on the side table, breathing heavily and letting cute little moans escape her as the plug continues to vibrate.

Her abs clench and she shudders again, pressing the tip of the dildo in before she can’t focus enough. There’s something weird about this dildo though, and before she can even press it in even further, it starts to wriggle by itself.

Her back arches off the chair, ass clenching and pussy throbbing around the wriggling dildo as it pushes further into her. It’s long and thick, easily long enough to press up against her womb and she gasps out, her fingers flying to the back of the chair and then to the dildo, trying to keep it still.

It doesn’t work though, keeps wriggling inside her, and the heat is building far too fast. She can’t get away from it, her hips moving violently as the pleasure just keeps racking up inside her. She tries to pull it out, tries to press the button on the vibrator, but her fingers are shaking so bad she can hardly function.

The dildo buries itself inside her, the tip poking through her cervix easily and her eyes roll back in the back of her head. She trembles violently on the chair, her stomach flexing as the dildo presses up against it from the inside.

“H-holy f-fuck…” she groans, her body seizing violently, and then she’s squirting all over the floor and the cameraman who’d moved closer to get a better look. Her back arches, toes curling, and she can’t even breathe as her orgasm rips through her, her pussy throbbing around the dildo, releasing the thick fluid into her womb.

She can feel it filling her up, but she’s too lost to the orgasm to care. Her muscles are so tense, her ass vibrating and throbbing, and just when she thinks she’s gonna pass out, the dildo wriggles again, pulling itself from her pussy and flopping to the floor with a splat.

She trembles heavily, breathing hard and gasping for air as the orgasm finally subsides. She turns to the side, closing her legs and curling in on herself as she tries to get a grip on what just happened.

She barely has enough strength to press the button on the plug, finally ending the vibrations. She pulls it out and tosses it onto the floor somewhere, close to sobbing as random spikes of pleasure still shoot through her.

She closes her eyes, taking huge breaths to calm down and to stop the shaking in her hands before reaching for the egg. She figures it can’t be much worse than what just happened. Plus, she was really excited to try it out.

She glances towards the director, who asks if she’s okay and she gives him a quiet nod, letting her trembling legs fall from the chair. She leans back, letting her legs spread and lifts them onto the arms of the chair, revealing her angry red pussy to the camera.

The thick substance the dildo released inside her leaks out, sliding down between her ass cheeks and she shivers, still reeling from the experience. She presses the head of the egg to her folds, relaxing and pressing it. Her head falls back, mouth open on a sigh, and she gets the egg halfway in before stopping to take a breath.

She shifts herself so she’s straddling the arm of the chair, and starts grinding down on the egg, pushing it further inside her with every movement of her hips. She feels a low vibration between her legs, but she’s not sure if it’s the egg or if it’s remnants of the butt plug, but whatever it is makes her moan loud.

She grinds down harder and the egg slips in past her folds, sitting heavy in her hips and it feels so good, filling her up so much more than any cock she’s taken. She’s getting ready to move off the arm of the chair when the vibration grows faster and harder, and the egg moves up, further inside her.

She gasps out, groaning as her body responds quickly. Slick drips from her legs, soaking the arm of the chair and she cries out. The egg pushes against her cervix, the thick head of it pressing in relentlessly. She’s shaking so hard, her hips grinding down against the arm of the chair. The egg pushes harder, opening her up and shoving into her womb.

She gags and falls into the chair, one leg on the arm of the chair and the other spread out on the floor. There’s a slight pouch to her stomach now, made more prominent by the way she’s laying on the chair. She rubs it, spikes of heat shooting through her at the touch.

She rubs at her clit, circling it and playing with it, but then the egg starts to expand. At first, it’s just a little movement inside her, feeling like she ate too much, but then she can see her stomach expanding. Her eyes grow wide and hungry, the sight of her stomach swelling so much hotter than she ever thought it would be.

It happened fast after that. Her stomach swelled, and she loved it, her breasts swelling with it. Everything was too sensitive, too hot, and when the egg started to press back down, back where it came in from, Leila cried out.

It felt so good, so amazing and hot. She fell to her knees on the floor, gasping for breath as the heavy egg kept moving lower and lower. Her hips widened and she yelled and screamed in pleasure, her hips moving wildly trying to get the friction she so desperately needed.

The egg was much much bigger coming out, and she felt her folds opening up around it, letting it come out. It shuddered inside her and she gasped, eyes rolling back in her head as she came again. Even harder than the last time.

She couldn’t control her body as she rolled over on her back, her hips and shoulders violently shaking through the orgasm. The egg just kept moving and it only dragged the pleasure out, making it way too much for her to handle.

She screamed, back arching as the bottom of the egg finally pressed past her folds, stretching her so wide she couldn’t close her legs. The cameraman moved in between her legs, catching everything on camera. And when the egg shuddered again, Leila squirted so hard it covered the camera lens, dripping from it.

Her hands clenched into fists and she choked and seized as it just kept going and going and going. She was gushing fluids now, all around the egg and squirting uncontrollably all over the floor. The egg shuddered one more time and then it rolled out of her, leaving her gasping and sobbing on the floor, her pussy almost destroyed.

It leaked all over the floor, rivulets of come and fluids just dripping from her pussy as she lay there shaking on the floor. She never heard the director call cut, her mind too far gone with her orgasm.

Someone helped her up off the floor, wrapping a towel around her trembling form, and she looked back to the egg she had just pushed out. It was back to its original size, sitting innocently on the floor by the deflated dildo.

As they walked her to the dressing room to clean herself up, she couldn’t help but think of doing it all over again.

For request 367.6 Part 2 (Part 1)

A/N: Uh. I kinda went a little feral with this one. That’s it.

+++++++++++++++++++++++

At least an hour later, after her latest belly growth, Taylor had found the scrap of paper that the farmers number was scribbled on, Natasha had woken up and was quickly filled in on the fact that they were apparently growing fucking watermelons inside their wombs.

A good deal of frantic questions had been flung back and forth until Taylor came slowly but surely marching out, one hand on her lower back and the other holding her phone, and ordered everyone to sit down and shut up.

Four pairs of disbelieving eyes now currently stare down at the phone sat in the middle of the table.

“Are you still there?” the mans voice asks, sounding appropriately weary over speaker phone.

“Who the hell does that?!” Natasha shrieks, downright appalled.

“How does someone do that?” Casey tacks on, bent over the table, forearms bearing her weight, with her legs spread apart to make room for the protruding vine between her legs.

“W-well it’s not exactly scientific, it’s more. ..magic? Lots of herbal stuff mostly, but it’s not supposed to happen like this unless we do it on the farm or the seeds are brought into direct contact with a reproductive system”

“We were drunk and it was a stupid dare, now we’re pregnant with your magical ass fruit because- because why?!” Taylor fumes, holding her belly and pacing back and forth behind Valerie “what does growing stuff inside people even accomplish?”

“He said it yields better tasting produce and because some people find it pleasurable to carry and-” Valerie monotones until she’s interrupted by Taylor

“That was rhetorical, Val ” Taylor sighs.

“And we are not kink shaming anyone, we just…didn’t sign up for this” Casey adds and Natasha nods along with her, leaning back in her chair to rub her belly as she winces through a small growth spurt.

They have been happening to all the girls, with the exception of Valerie, frequently and in short bursts that only seem to last a few seconds.

“Can we stay on track here? How do we know how many we each have?” Taylor asks seriously, glaring just a bit at the phone.

“Well that usually depends on how many seeds are used, how many did you each, uh, put in?”

Valerie holds up one finger, which explains her lack of growth since waking up. Natasha heaves a sigh and leans forward to say

“Two or three, can’t really remember,”

“Two,” Casey drops her forehead onto the table with a dull thunk, moaning in aggravation.

“Taylor?” the man on the phone asks after a few beats of uneasy silence.

“Uhmm, just, four,”

“Oh,” the man breathes.

“Yup,” Taylor stoutly ignores Natasha’s raised eyebrow and mischievous grin as she mouths the word ‘kinky.’

“Okay, so, you all should definitely come to the farm, we have the room and equipment to take care of you until you deliver-”

Valerie whimpers at the word, sinking down in to her chair, with some difficulty. Taylor puts a reassuring hand on her friends shoulder.

“-and you can rest after, do you need someone to come pick you up?” he asks.

“Well Val is full on zombie mode, Casey has a stem sticking out of her cooch chute, Taylor wouldn’t even be able to fit behind the fucking steering wheel and I-I can. Shit, I’ll drive,” Natasha says reluctantly.

“Okay, just text us the address, and uh, I never got your name?”

“It’s Alex,”

“Cool, Alex, just do that and we’ll see you very soon,” Taylor leans over to hang up, with some degree of difficulty due to her belly digging into the edge of the table, but Casey waves her hands.

“Wait! Wait, why do I have a stem coming out of me? No one else does,” she inquires eagerly.

“That’s just a sign that it’s facing the way the stem grew and you have a few hours until labor starts,” Alex informs them

“So, can I like, pull it out? It’s not gonna fuck anything up or hurt me?”

“Yeah, that’s fine, you can gently tug it, rock it back and forth, just not too hard. Umm, most people even find it pleasurable, since it’s kind of shaped like a-”

“Got it! Thank you! Bye,” Natasha reaches out to hang up with a sharp tap to the screen and the room goes quiet except for the sounds of Casey grunting with a hand buried between her legs.

One hand is bracing her against the table while she awkwardly bends her knees, frustratingly puffing her hair out of her face, trying to get a good grip on her protruding vine.

“Do we need to give you some privacy?” Natasha drawls, chin propped up on her hand, watching her friend struggle.

“Fuck off,” Casey growls, hand finding purchase on the vivid green handle and gently pulling before dropping to her knees with a keening moan.

“That’s a yes,” Taylor cringes at the battling emotions on Casey scrunched up face.

“Why the hell does it feel good? This is so fucked up,” Casey whines and gives another half-hearted tug on the vine.

“Hormones maybe, or magic,” Valerie says, seeming to wake up from her fugue state and asks “hey, what are we gonna wear?”

A chorus of groans arises and Taylor’s phone pings with an incoming message of the farms address.

++++++++

Taylor sits up right in a soft bed, propped up by pillows, provided by the farm. Beside her are Natasha and Casey, laid back in their own beds. Valerie had began having contraction like pains on the drive over and was already taken back to… deliver, upon arriving.

Casey is laid back with her knees bent up and a sheet draped over them like a tent as Alex carefully, and finally, removes the vine.

Taylor can see the sheen of sweat on her friends forehead, the way her lower lip is bitten red at how hard she’s trying to keep her sounds of ecstasy muted. It’s only when Alex has to spread a large hand over the underside of Casey’s belly for leverage that a sound slips free.

A small whimper, like she’s in pain, only her hands grasp onto her breasts through the soft gown they had all been provided upon arriving.

Casey massages them, plucking at one of her harden nipples before a sharp sound of relief crawls up her throat and Alex lifts up the offending stem to examine it.

Casey just goes slack, hands still on her breasts, eyes squeezed shut while she pants for breath.

“Seems healthy,” Alex mutters, turning the slick covered stem this way and that.

“I really don’t care,” Casey whines, kicking her feet out and rubbing her thighs together once Alex stands up “that just made it worse.”

“What’s worse?” Natasha sits up as quickly as she can, brow furrowed in concern.

“I’m still horny as fuck and I can’t do anything about it because of this stupid thing inside me,” Casey cries, hands dropping down to stroke roughly up and down her bump.

“Oh, we have private rooms for that, if you’d like someone to help,” Alex supplies, sounding as nonchalant as one can in this situation.

“Yes please,” Casey whimpers and begins to sit up “Natasha, can you?”

“Of course baby.”

And before Taylor can even ask, Natasha is heaving herself out of bed and taking measured steps over to Casey’s heaving form.

“When did that happen?!” Taylor grins over at the pair helping each other adjust the flowing gowns, one of Natasha’s hands going to make soothing circles around the point of Casey’s jutting belly button.

“The sex or the relationship?” Natasha asks, head tilted and smiling. Casey’s whimper of need stops any thought of questioning, and Taylor shoots them a bright smile and whispers 'later’ as Alex waves over another worker to show them to a room.

Alex stays behind, disposing of the stem and sitting on Casey’s now empty bed.

“I am sorry about this,” he says, wringing his hands and glancing at Taylor’s very large tummy.

“It’s okay, well, not really, but it’s not your fault,” Taylor exhales slowly, glancing down at her own heaving potbelly carefully draped in the folds of the floral bed sheets she had wrapped herself in before leaving the apartment.

She can see the point of her protuberant belly button, knows that beneath her makeshift dress, she is packed to the brim and still might have more inches to grow if the oblong shape steadily eclipsing her lap is anything to go by.

“Do you need anything?” Alex asks, drawing her attention just in time to see his gaze on her heavily swollen gut.

“Do you need anything?” she aims for vaguely alluring but simply ends up making the man flustered, his eyes shifting away to look at anything but her.

“N-no, it’s just- I’m good,”

“That sounded thoroughly convincing.”

The two sit in a heavy silence, giving Taylor a chance to shift the sheet off of her belly. And eventually Alex catches on to the sound, eyes widening as inch after inch of smooth, taut skin is revealed.

The fabric catches on her bulbous belly button, sparking the first real flame of arousal since Taylor first pressed against her belly in the tub this morning.

“I have to go check on your friend, Valerie, she might be done,” Alex says quickly, practically darting up and out of the room on long legs.

Taylor pouts and tosses the sheet back over herself just as the sound of footsteps comes from the other entrance.

“Oh, hey, new face!” the man smiles, points, and begins striding in Taylor’s direction.

Her eyes go round at the man, also in a gown, with an obviously heavy belly.

“Hi,” Taylor croaks and reminds herself that magic had gotten them into this situation and to not think about it too much.

“Whoa! Someone’s ready to pop! What are you growing, if you don’t mind me asking?” the man stretches, pressing his knuckles into his lower back before struggling to sit down smoothly on what had been Natasha’s bed.

His belly hangs heavy between his thighs, dropping and obtrusive, as he puts a hand on each side of it and begins soothing circles onto it.

“Uh, I’m having-carrying…watermelon,”

“Nice, I did that once, just to try it, but I prefer the smaller stuff in big batches,” he says and gives his belly a soft slap.

“You do this often?”

“As often as I can” he nods, looking just a touch sheepish now

“I’ve always had, ya know, fantasies and well, this helps.”

Taylor just nods, trying desperately not the rub her thighs together. She was learning all kinds of new things today.

“So, what do you have?,” she motions to his belly.

“Apricots,” he sighs, leaning back on his hands, belly lifting as he moves and sitting higher on his middle than Taylor’s is on her.

“Can I ask… how do they come out?” she inquires, leaning toward him, her own cargo shifting against her insides with smooth rolls, providing delicious friction.

“Ugh, I don’t wanna freak you out,”

“We both have fruits growing inside of our bodies, I think I’ll be fine,”

“Ha, point taken, well it’s um, they come out through my…” he trails off and nudges his hips forward, and she can make out the tent in the gown under his gut, which bounces just enough to have him hiss through his teeth.

“They’re small enough for that?”

“Yeah, and I get a shot of something that helps ease the process,” another sharp intake of breath punctuates his words and he puts a hand on the bottom of his bulge.

“Are you? Is it?” Taylor can’t bring herself to articulate it. Just the idea is making her wet.

“Yeah, I can go to a private room if you don’t wanna see it, I just-”

“Stand up,” she orders softly, shuffling herself to the edge of the bed, uncaring of the sheet tugging away from her body.

Something in her tone must scratch at some itch the man has because he does so, all while watching her make her way to sit on the edge of the bed with the sheet pooled over her pregnancy.

“Open this” she tugs on the hem of his gown and he plucks open the button on the collar keeping it from falling open.

But when it does, she gets her fill of his gorgeously distended skin, the surface a little lumpy if you look close enough.

“How does it feel? Being so heavy and filled up?” she murmurs, her face heating up.

“G-good, it feels really good,”

She reaches out and puts both hands on him, his skin warm and smooth, not an inch inside of him being wasted. Full and bloated. She begins rubbing, making wide circles over him, purposely avoiding his angry looking belly button.

“Poor thing, all pregnant and aching,” she coos, hands traveling along the underside of his tummy.

Her knuckles brush the heat of his erection and that sends a shudder through him, the round fruit inside him quivering under her ministrations, causing him to hump the air, chasing after another touch.

“Please, please, touch me, I need something,” he whines, peering down over the crest of his prominent mound.

“Okay,” she replies sweetly, unsure of where the courage to chase this particular white rabbit is coming from.

Leaning forward, her lips close around the little round button on the peak of his belly, and she sucks. Laves it with her tongue and when that rewards her with a reedy moan, she nips at it and he lets loose a mewl that echoes around the room.

She has him babbling nonsense, strings of pleas and curses as he thrusts his hips and his belly begins to bob. Pulling back, Taylor watches his face scrunch up at the sudden lack of stimulation.

Then she slaps his gut, hard. And he howls, pre-cum dripping heavily from his cock and onto her lap.

“Are you gonna push these out for me? Like a good little boy?” she asks with another slap.

“Oh fuck! Yes! I’m gonna push for you! I won’t stop unless you let me” he groans around another swat and then yelps when another follows directly after, landing on his belly button.

She gives one slap to the opposite side of his belly, hard enough to make her palm sting and her own gut jiggle. He mumbles something out that vaguely sounds like 'please.’

So she obliges him, one hand reaching down to grasp the base of his hard cock and the other circles his sensitive belly button.

“Unnnhh, ha, ple-please! please let me-” he chokes on his words when she gives a stroke of his length and fingers his button relentlessly.

His whole body goes rigid. Belly hardening like a rock, head thrown back, hands on his lower back pushing his belly as far forward as possible.

Taylor keeps stroking him, smearing his pre-cum up and down him as well as she can. There’s so much of it that she wonders if it has anything to do with the shot he talked about.

“Do you want to cum?” she purrs

“Yes!”

“And then you can get on your back for me and push,”

“Oh god, uugghh fuuuuuck, yes I will, I will, I promise, please please pleeeease!”

“Poor baby, has no one touched you this whole time you’ve had this?” she kisses his belly and slows her hand gliding up and down him, adding a twist of her wrist every other pump.

“No, no one, I can’t- no one would want me like this,” he confesses, voice breaking.

She gives him another harsh smack, her fingers digging into his plump flesh this time, jostling it, feeling the tiny round shapes rolling inside of him.

“I want you like this, I want you to cum all over my belly so I can watch it drip down to my cunt, do you want that?”

“Uh-huuuh” he’s panting, looking back down at her, eyes heavy-lidded and gone with lust as she leans back enough to present her pregnancy to him, bouncing her hips to get her load rolling around inside her.

“You’re so fucking big, love it,” he strains, and she gives her own belly a slap, pushing it up towards him and pumping his cock faster until he seizes up.

White streaks pulse out and onto her tummy, hot and thick, marking her skin as he slaps his hands onto either side of his belly, shaking it up and down to prolong his release. And it keeps coming, all over her and on the underside of his own belly as his cock pulses until finally, he begins to come down.

He collapses back onto the bed, his inflated gut still seizing with the twitching of his muscles standing straight up.

“You…are…amazing,” he huffs.

She smiles, looking down at her tummy, dragging a fingertip through the cum and down the curve of herself until she tries to reach her cunt. She can’t. Her belly must have grown some while she was distracted because it reaches her knees.

Sighing, she contents  herself with using the sheet to swipe off the mans cum. Her belly is rock hard, shining, and it aches with every swipe but she can’t get enough. The man across from her is blissed out, rubbing his turgid belly lazily and trying to lay himself the right way on the bed.

She watches him struggle under his weight, even though it’s smaller than the globe hanging off of her. Once he’s settled, she slips forward onto the floor and walks on her knees over to his bedside.

“You ready to push all these out?” she brushes the damp hair back off the mans forehead while her other hand is occupied with caressing his contracting dome.

“Yeah,” he moans out lowly, eyes pinched shut and breath beginning to come in heavy pants.

“How do you want me to help?”

“Just keep touching my tummy, it hurts so much,” he grunts out the last word and Taylor feels the muscles contract beneath her hand, watches his knees drop open as he twists the sheets between his fingers.

Taylor shuffles over so she’s right beside his belly, slipping both hands up and over the sweat slick skin and palpates, eyes fixed on the mans face. It seems caught between pain and pleasure.

“Ha- aaaahhh! I can feel 'em!” he arches his back, moving his hips and struggling to reach around his mountainous gut for his cock.

“Tell me what you need, do you need me to touch you?” she asks, eyes meeting his as she leans her cheek against his belly.

He nods frantically, propping himself up on his elbows, gaping like a fish when she grasps his still hard cock and squeezes the base.

“Unnhh… huh coming… coming ooooouuut!” he groans, tossing his head back and straining.

Taylor can feel a bulge meeting the ring of her fingers, slowly working it’s way up his length. She loosens her grip but follows the bulge until it breaches the tip, stretching open the already slightly dilated hole at the end of his cock.

Staring, utterly fascinated, she feels his abdominal muscles compact around his load and another bugle appears, traveling up just as the first pops out with a small gush of fluid. She pats his belly and tells him to keep pushing.

His answer is a groan and a quiver of his spread legs.

“Help, please help, just help push them u-up, please?” he simpers and she looks back up at him.

“Oh, you’re not tired are you? You only have one out? There must be dozens in here,” she shakes his belly and his eyes roll back in his head.

“Yes, buut I neeed-!” another squelching pop cuts him off and he sighs.

“Okay, I’ll help,” she takes pity on him and drops a hand to his dick, right below the next bulge and begins pumping the space between his base and the lump traveling up and out.

She keeps one palm on his gut, pressing and kneading as her hand works around his engorged shaft, the head ruddy and dripping. There is a small pile of glistening, orange-yellow fruit between his legs and the more he strains and pushes the bigger it gets, emptying his insides.

Then his hips begin to flex, pushing the deflating paunch of his gut perfectly upright and he stutters around his breath before a few strong spurts of cum shoot out onto the sheets followed by an astounding rush of fruit, one right after the other.

He seems utterly spent, eyes closed and hands reaching up to massage his tummy, as he hums in over stimulation.

The man nods off with hands still glued to his middle and that’s when she hears soft footsteps behind her.

Looking over her shoulder, she finds Alex standing stiff as a board a few feet away from her bed.

She thinks he might keel over at first, given the look on his face, until she glances down and notices the bulge in his jeans.

“I really don’t want to make you anymore uncomfortable than you seem but I’d really like to get fucked while I’m this big, and I don’t think Mr. Apricot over here will be up for that anytime soon, so if you wouldn’t mind…?” she leaves the rest to him, pushing and sliding herself back over to her bed, barely crawling back up on to sit on the edge.

She is tired, a bit hungry, but more than anything, she wants release.

She’s spent every second since she opened her eyes this morning trying to push away just how good the fullness felt, how exquisite it made her feel to move with the swaying of her womb and after watching the man writhe through his labor, she’s dripping onto the floor with want.

But most of all, she can’t get over the way carrying something, growing something, within her makes her feel content.

She splays a hand on her belly and caresses it, spreading her thighs and scraping her nails up and down the curve she can’t imagine looking down and not seeing.

Alex moves quick, striding toward her with purpose and coming to stand in front of her before kneeling down between her open thighs.

“You look beautiful, all round like this,” he whispers, reaching out to lay his large hands over hers, smoothing over the fine skin “all big with something I made, that I grew,”

“Well, technically, I’m growing it,” she chuckles, belly jiggling with the sound.

“Still… I see a lot of people come in here like this,” he squeezes her orb, making the contents slosh back and forth, making her gasp and roll her hips “but not all of them take to it like you.”

Alex leans in and presses soft kisses all over her, up and down, nipping at her belly button. Her muscles twitch and a deep gurgle echoes from within her, pulsing outward and sending her insides bubbling in a round of growth that steals her breath.

“I can’t, can’t get any bigger,” Taylor moans, gripping onto Alex’s shoulders, the drum tight skin on her belly turning bright with spikes of pain.

“It’s okay, this should be the last one,” he assures her and continues rubbing, pushing her hands down to her sides and kneading into the ball of her gut with strong fingers.

He keeps going, massaging and pressing as her insides bloat with the growing watermelons, the oblong shapes of them light outlines on her tense stomach. It outright aches now and her core clenches, dripping.

“Please, now, I need you inside me now,” she sobs, and he nods, hands reaching down to undo his pants.

“Try to turn around, this belly is beautiful but I can’t fuck you like you want unless it’s from the back.”

Taylor nods and slips forward until she can drop down, that’s where Alex helps her turn. Tugging the tangle of sheets away and making her moan at the brush of cloth over her sensitive bump.

Once on her knees, overlarge belly hanging down as she braces her hands on the bed, she whines and pushes herself back to grind against Alex’s hard length. It feels long, with nice girth and her mouth waters.

He slides in without missing a beat, and the added fullness makes her walls flutter and she begs him to fuck her, calling out his name when he slams up inside over and over. She’s so wet it squelches obscenely and nothing matters except the bounce of her pregnant belly and his cock inside her.

His hands grip her hips but then they move up to the sides of her belly, pulling on the already tight skin sends her over the edge and she chokes on her scream, grinding back as hard as she can, begging Alex not to stop.

He doesn’t, he slows his hammering pace but works her through her climax with deep thrusts that she can feel in her throat. But most of all she can feel the fruit inside her battering her womb, pushing her to her limits and then Alex grabs onto her pregnant orb and uses it to pull her back onto him while still thrusting as deep as he can.

It’s bliss.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, make me bigger, fill me up,” she whines, burying her face into the bed as her belly begins to contract, a band of steel tightening around it, pushing the giant orbs inside her downwards.

“One more, one more and then you can start pushing,” Alex murmurs into the back of her neck and she nods.

“Yes, yes, f-fuck me into labor, I’m ready, cum inside me and make me bigger before I push it all out, then fuck me again, fuck me full!”

Her belly drags on the floor with each thrust, belly button tugging back and forth in twisting pleasure that topples her off the edge again, a scream rending itself from her open mouth, followed by a guttural groan when she feels warmth pulse up inside her,

Alex’s cum slipping around her insides as she bears down.

Now her groans turn feral, tinged with pain.

“Push, I’ve g-gotta push aaaahhh!” she wails, everything inside her dropping suddenly.

“Okay, I’ve got you, just push,” Alex tells her calmly, slipping out of her and steadying her hips, pushing her legs apart and rubbing the curve of her belly where it hangs.

Taylor bites her lip at the pressure in her pelvis, enough of her brain still buzzing from her orgasm to soften the edges.

“Don’t worry about being loud, just let it out, breathe,” Alex coaches her, rocking with her as she bears the pain until something hard and very heavy drops into her canal.

“NOW! Now! I have to-,” she grunts, pushing with the contraction, opening her legs and letting her belly rest on the ground.

This goes on for a few more contractions, the burning of her hole as it stretches around the object and the frustrating cries when it slips back inside of her, her belly heaving as it hardens and bounces with the rocking of her body as she sways through the pain.

“I can see it, keep going, push!” Alex urges her on the next round, his long fingers meeting around the top of her belly and his front pressing against her back as he helps her bring the first one down.

Taylor screams through the agony of being stretched, one hand reaching down to grip Alex’s, until relief comes in the release of pressure.

“Good girl! It’s out, the first one is out,” Alex presses a kiss to her temple and she hums, fingers tightening around his, trying to match his breathing.

“I have to-ugh, can I lean back, I need to lean back,” she pants and pushes away from the bed.

Alex lets her, sitting back on his feet and bringing her to rest against him as she squats, legs spread wide to accommodate her tensing belly, which he hooks his hands under and lifts up.

“Oooh, that feels good, don’t stop,” Taylor grips his forearms and brings her chin to her chest, preparing for the next watermelon she can feel bulging down through her opening.

She tries not to hold her breath when Alex tells her to breathe and relaxes back into him in-between contractions where he feels her belly for the placement of the melons.

Two and three come out with a struggle that leaves Taylor’s voice raw and hoarse, tears blotting her face, what feels like hours of pain condensing into her hips and belly and back. Until the fourth and final melon shifts into place and she does nothing more than whimper through the ring of fire that delivers the last melon.

She goes limp, Alex’s arms laying her against him and soothing her with praise.

“Next time,” she croaks, then tries again “next time I want pumpkins.”

(Hey! Long time lurker, first time submitter, you know how it is. First time writing for this kink but it’s been a big fantasy of mine for years. I’ll take the pseudonym Fletcher, if it isn’t taken! Thanks for all the lovely work you do at IYP!) 

Imagine this is your job. You carry babies. A lot of them. It’s, in many ways, a typical nine to five. You show up to work a few minutes early, footsteps echoing down long linoleum halls. You clock in to work, you stuff your clothes in your too-tiny locker, and you make your way to your room. Like every carrier employed by the facility, you have a small room to yourself. On the outside is posted a photo of you, a little blurb about why you enjoy the job (most people don’t read that) and some basic information on your bloodline and genetics (many people read that). Nowhere does it say your name. 

On the other side of the door is a bed that, at the present moment, seems far too large for you, but you’ll grow into it as the day goes on. After taking the cocktail of hyperfertility pills that the facility has under lock and key, there’s nothing to do but make yourself comfortable in your bed and wait for customers to arrive. You reach under the bed and attach the milk pumps that’ll drain you into the carrier milk storage — maybe a little early to put them on when you haven’t started your lactation today yet, but you can’t help being eager. You’re getting a little bored losing yourself in the rhythm of the pumps pulling on your nipples, when you hear the door open. Your first customer of the day. You don’t know who he is, of course, but you know that he paid to be here, booked the wing that your room is in, and he’s chosen your womb as the one he wants to fuck a baby into. He’s one you’ll be bragging about to your coworkers later, you think to yourself, he’s very good-looking. The man eyes your naked body while latching the door shut behind him. He makes quick work of his pants and you’re not surprised when he’s already hard; they usually are. You’re more than happy to lie back and take it as he climbs onto the bed and fucks you. You don’t cum, but that’s fine. You will later. The man walks out of the facility with a receipt listing the date, your employee number, and which customer of the day he was for you; when you give birth at the end of the day, he’ll know which baby is his because it’ll be the first to come out of you. Not long after he finishes inside you, you feel the first pregnancy taking hold. Your body feels pleasantly warm. You watch as your stomach pushes out, slowly, taking its sweet time. Your hips shift, wider. Ah! There’s your milk. You can’t help making a noise as the pumps finally draw their first drops of creamy white from your tits. It quickly becomes a steady stream, constant pumping of your tits that are themselves getting ever so slightly bigger. Another guy comes in, fucks you, leaves. And another. And another. The whole time, you’re gradually getting bigger and bigger. You zone out, losing yourself in the pleasure of the sex and the expansion. You think you’ve cum, but you couldn’t say how many times. A couple hours into your shift, you’re already huge. About eight clients’ babies are growing inside you. Your stomach is bigger than a medicine ball, your tits a basketball each. The shifting of your hips, soft cracks as they reacclimate to childbearing, is constant. You’re incredibly heavy. This is nowhere near as big as you’ll get. The customers that come at midday and beyond tend to be the type who get off on the sight of your ballooned body. You can’t help making little noises at the men who reach around your stomach to squeeze your teats, laughing about what a giant pregnant cow you are while they fuck yet another baby into you. Men who run their hands over your belly even as it’s too big to wrap one’s arms around. Men who dig their fingernails into your hips as they growl a promise about giving you twins or triplets (your pills guard against that so it’s easier to tell whose baby is whose, but the sentiment is still pretty exciting). At this point, you’ve finally grown into your large bed. You’re as wide as you are tall, and you can’t see the top of your stomach anymore. Your huge udders, comparable in size to how your belly looked just a few hours earlier, fall to either side of your stomach, still producing milk at a constant rate — they don’t seem relieved of the burden of milk at all, if anything they’ve just gotten bigger and bigger and made more and more. You lost count of how many babies must be inside you after about twenty. It’s more than that; you know that much. Your stomach threatens to brush the ceiling. You’re fucking huge. At 4pm, the person that enters your room is not a customer, but one of the facility’s midwives. You have an hour left on your shift, and it’s to be spent pushing out all these babies. The midwife administers your second cocktail of drugs for the day. These induce labor and replace the pain of childbirth with pleasure. Not long after the syringe is poked into you, your first contractions start. You whimper. You’ve done this every day since starting the job, of course, so birth isn’t a big deal. The midwife takes each baby carefully and praises you for how well you’re doing, and after a long, laborious (haha!) process of pushing, you’ve gotten all 29 healthy babies out. That’s going to be very pretty on your paycheck. The midwife injects your third and final round of drugs before leaving with the babies. These ones more or less reverse the effects of the pregnancies on your body — your hips narrow back down, your tits expel the last of their milk before returning to normal size, the stretch marks fade from your skin. Nobody would know your day job from looking at you. You finally take the milk pumps off and tuck them back under your bed. You get up from the bed that once again dwarfs you, thankful it’s not your job to change the sheets before morning. You are employed by a very well-run facility. Clothes back on and clocked out of work, you head home. You can’t wait to go back to work tomorrow.

Birthedstars

You’re a cam model. A very popular one at that. Before taking a hiatus, you were ranked within the top 10 of cam models in the world. The reason for your hiatus is the life currently growing inside of you. You and your partner thought it best to take a step back from streaming in order to focus on your pregnancy but you missed streaming and with your pregnancy reaching its end you wanted all of your fans to see you live at least once.

You are currently 39 weeks pregnant with a very big baby girl and it showed. Your stomach was smooth aside from the stretch marks that were scattered across your underbelly and your belly button poked out like a large knob. Being so late into pregnancy made it so that your belly was settling low to the top of your thighs and you had to spread your legs every time you sat down to make room for it.

You sit down in front of your computer and webcam, your subscribers start flooding in immediately to see your big belly. You moan a bit as you insert your bluetooth vibrator into your swollen pussy. You haven’t used it since before your hiatus so you’d forgotten how intense it would vibrate when you’d get donations.  

A mere ten dollar donation made your stomach contract when the vibrator stimulated you. You moan softly at first, but you soon get pulled into flicking your clit with the continuing sensation. You still had a week until your due date, so the contract didn’t scare you. It must’ve just been Braxton’s or the sensation triggering some.

You rub oil all over your large breasts and belly. That seemed to get your audience riled up even more, bringing on more stimulation and contractions.

Three hours pass and you begin to bring the stream to an end by challenging your subs to make you squirt. your loyal subs started donating various amounts just to see you cum on live.

Each donation made you moan loudly, your belly heaving with each sensual breath. Your stomach seized with each one as well, just like it had earlier in the stream, but you decided it was nothing. You’d worry about labor if your water broke and you still didn’t feel any sign of that happening.

Another string of sizable donations comes in. Your tight stomach undulates with the tightening of your muscles and the movement of your child. They’ve been getting stronger as time went, but you were still unconcerned.

“Oh shit, you guys might make me give birth!” You say jokingly as another one passes even without getting stimulated by the vibrator. The contractions are getting closer too but your waters still haven’t broken and this always happened when your partner was in the process of making you cum.

As soon as you say it, a one thousand dollar donation comes in and your vibrator activates wildly. Your eyes and mouth go wide, you throw your head back as the vibration stimulates your clit and wet canal with an electrifying intensity. Your stomach and back seize hard and you recoil into your chair as your pussy throbs with ecstasy.

“Hooooly fuck, guys oooooohhhh” you gasp, grabbing hold of your large belly with one hand and swiping at  your clit with the other. You were in pain, but you couldn’t resist. It was fine, you weren’t in labor yet.

More donations come through. All varying sizes. Five hundred dollars. Fifty dollars. Three hundred dollars. Seventy dollars. The donation alarm was a siren. The vibrators strength increases and lowers, but never stops. Just like the pressure within you that you’ve been ignoring. You kept telling yourself it was just the weight of the baby on your pelvis. You weren’t entirely wrong. Something fleshy had been pressing it out of your cervix for a while now but you were ignorant to it.

A one hundred dollar donation was the one that did it. You buck your hips in the air, still furiously rubbing at your clit and fluid bursts from your labouring canal. You keep rubbing in spite of that, howling in orgasm. Your belly heaves with your breath and the start of a contraction.

“Oh my God guys, you -ooough- made me squirt so muuuuuuhhhhch,”  your words are jumbled by a sudden hard, ball-like mass spread open your cervix. The contractions you’d been having increase in intensity, causing you to grip your belly hard.

“Hoo, hoo, hoo. guys I think it’s time for a bre-”

Another donation comes in and the vibrator bursts to life, stimulating your sensitive spot again. Pain and pleasure mix, but the only thing keeping you from flicking your clit again is the intense desire to push.

“W-wait guys I think I mi- OOOOOOUGHH!”

You howl as another large donation comes through. Your stomach seizes on you harder and the downward pressure inside your pussy starts to make you panic. You frantically search for the end of the vibrator to pull it out, but another donation comes in, making your stomach turn into an even tighter ball. Your nails dig into the stretch marks of your underbelly and your chair, giving into your instinct to push. You feel the head go through your canal speedily and start pushing  the large vibrator out of your pussy. Just as it exited, another large donation came through, sending a shock through your body.

“I’M HAVING MY BABY!” you scream and push. Your canal quickly filled and stretched with your baby. You must have been in labor throughout the stream. Your pussy begins to bulge and you can feel the head start to spread it out.You arch your back as an intense burning sensation takes over your crotch. Everyone on the stream could see the huge head of your baby crown and thin out the skin of your wet pussy.

You bear down again and the head bursts forth with a large gush of fluid. You recoil from the release of pressure and fall back into the seat of your chair. The shoulders didn’t wait for you to catch your breath and started to slide out as well.

You quickly move to catch the baby as you feel the shoulders shoot out from your slit. Fluid gushes out and your belly deflates, your big baby squirming in your hands. You bring the baby up to your bare and still oiled chest.

The chat was going ballistic from what they just witnessed. You gasped for air while watching more donations come in. People seemed to enjoy watching you give birth.

Your baby started to cry loudly into your chest and you heard the garage to your house open. Your partner would have a very big surprise when they got into the house.

15. imagine a woman gets a job at a local aquarium, the job description simply something along the lines of joining the animal breeding care team. her actual duties include her uterus being filled with water and a bit of aquarium gravel, a male fish and female fish being inserted and allowed to breed, and she is plugged up until further notice. she can feel them swimming about and making their little bubble nests almost at all times. —————————————————————- 

You’re a young woman fresh out of college after earning your degree in marine biology. It was a life long dream of yours ever since you were a little girl, growing up in a seaside town, to spend your life studying sea creatures and working closely with them. A few weeks after your graduation, you received an email from an aquarium in a city down the coast from your town. The head researcher there somehow got a copy of your final thesis paper on the subject of breeding patterns in marine life, and thought it was just the kind of thinking she needed in her research staff there. You sent back an acceptance reply in a heartbeat, and following a little back and forth, you were traveling down to the city within the week. 

Once you arrived at the aquarium the next day, you walk in and inform the attendant at the admission booth of your job offer. They nod and say they’ll be right back with the researcher you spoke with. As you wait, the feelings of excitement and anticipation swell up in your chest. The emails were somewhat vague on what your job would entail, but you couldn’t care less if you were even just contracted to clean the tanks. This was a dream come true! A couple minutes pass, and an older blonde woman comes up to you and introduces herself as Dr. Florence. You two exchange pleasantries as she explains she spoke to you over the phone. The doctor was old study partners with your marine biology professor and was sent your dissertation by him. Long story short, she thinks you’ll be perfect to be an assistant on her aquarium’s new breeding program. You are astounded that your research is being applied in your dream job and accept excitedly. You’re asked to follow her where she gives you a tour through the aquarium facilities. There’s all sorts of exhibits ranging from touch tanks for kids to play with starfish and hermit crabs, large chilled enclosures for penguins and arctic seals, but the main attraction is a massive cylindrical saltwater tank housing an entire coral reef ecosystem, complete with every type of sea creature you can think of from manta rays and clownfish to sharks and eels. As you walk through towards the back of the building, Dr. Florence explains that because of ocean pollution, it’s getting harder to source fish from the wild, so breeding programs are being adopted by a number of aquariums to keep their fish populations maintained. She explains you will be the first to witness a new method of breeding. It all sounds quite fascinating, until you’re brought into a doorway sealed off from the public. You’ve seen aquarium laboratories before, but this one was bizarrely set up to you. On one half, it looked like an average lab, complete with holding tanks full of fish as well as your typical scientific instruments, but the other half, separated by a windowed wall, you could see looked like a birthing suite in a hospital’s delivery ward. Before you could ask what this was, Dr. Florence asks you to step into the room and undress. You’re surprised by this and demand to know why. She begins to explain. “We don’t have any proper breeding tanks for our specimens here…” she says. “…so your womb will be our breeding tank.” You’re shocked by this revelation, and before you can ask why, she explains without you having to ask. Apparently, the human body has a perfect homeostasis level for a number of species of fish to breed in, and she believes a fertile young uterus could assist in yielding better results. The method sounds unorthodox, and every rational fiber of your being is screaming to leave, but as she explains the science behind it, you can’t help but think it sounds intriguing and after an hour of convincing arguments, you hesitantly agree. The doctor is elated, and she asks you to please enter the lab and undress so they can begin the process. You nod and strip down to your bra and panties as you take position on the hospital bed with your legs in the stirrups as the doctor puts on some gloves and wheels two large carts bedside. One seems to contain an aquarium pump and a large tank full of water. The other seems to hold some sort of applicator device, a baggie of aquarium gravel and a fishbowl containing two small tropical fish; some species of tang if you had to guess. Dr. Florence begins with removing your underwear for you, causing you to blush as your womanhood is exposed to a woman you’ve barely known two hours. You gasp as just as quickly, a hose with a soft nozzle on it is stuck inside you and fed into your birth canal. Just as you start to get accustomed to the feeling, she switches on the pump, and you shiver as you feel water flow into your womb. The seawater begins to fill you up, rounding out your stomach and causing it to rise to form a paunch. A couple minutes pass, and you look quite bloated. Some more minutes pass, and you look halfway through a pregnancy with twins. You moan as the building pressure starts to grow uncomfortable, but don’t ask to stop, even as Dr. Florence activates a second pump that she vacuums the aquarium gravel bag out with. You feel a new sensation as the gravel sits in the bottom of your womb as you continue to fill; now passing to be full term with triplets. Your belly starts to creak with strain, and you try to alleviate the ever growing pressure by rubbing your sides. The doctor notices you straining and gives a few sympathetic strokes to your underbelly to help. They feel nice, but a new feeling causes you to cry out as something new, slimy and flailing slaps at the mouth of your pussy. She is attempting to insert both fish inside you as well as keep the hose from coming out. It’s difficult as the thrashing of the fish and playing of your vaginal lips is getting you hot and bothered. Not helping is the fact that one of them slaps it’s tail against your clitoris, causing you to arch your back and cry out in ecstasy. Finally, just as you edge onto the brink of orgasm and strain as your belly feels as though it’s reached your limit…it all stops. The fish no longer thrash at the edge of your lower mouth. The aquarium pump is turned off and your growth ceases. You can now feel them swimming around, prodding your insides as they grow accustomed to their new surroundings. You sigh as you come down from the rush of nearly being brought to orgasm, registering as the doctor asks you how you feel. You say, “…Like a fishbowl.”, enticing a chuckle from the doctor. She spends a few more minutes writing down some notes while taking moments to inspect and measure your fishbowl of a belly periodically. Finally, seeming satisfied, Dr. Florence pulls out a device from the bottom of the cart, no bigger than a smartphone and straps it to your inner thigh. The doctor explains it’s an invention of hers she developed for this experiment that will not only serve as a plug to keep the water from spilling out of you, but also as a filter and temperature regulator for the aquarium inside you now. She also mentions it can filter in nutrients to keep the fish inside fed. She unceremoniously thrusts the stopper end into you as she retracts the filling hose, causing you to moan out as both motions are carried out at the same time. She then connects the stopper to the device on your leg with an ultra-thin hose, activating it as you hear a soft, constant hum from below your belly. She helps you maneuver your legs out of the stirrups and on to the floor bedside, but the motion plus your new center of gravity cause your belly to slosh and jiggle somewhat violently. You groan as you feel the water and gravel shift inside you, plus the fish darting around, unhappy of being stirred up like that. Luckily, Dr. Florence has a solution for that. She leaves the room for a moment, and returns with what looks like a stretchy blue piece of shape wear that reaches from the top of your middle to your hips. Helping you get it on and stretch it over your waterlogged tummy, the doctor explains it should mitigate the sloshing around inside you, as the churning could accidentally ruin the experiment. The next hour, you and the doctor help figure out your limits. She helps you as you waddle around the room, growing accustomed to your new size considering the gallons of water and fish inside your womb now. It’s also determined you should sit and sleep propped up as to not disturb the gravel inside too much. You heard right. Sleep. Dr. Florence tells you this room will be your home for the next few weeks as the experiment runs its course. You will be cared for, compensated financially, and allowed contact with friends and family so long as you don’t divulge what your new job exactly is until the experiment is over. You accept these terms, but it’s only told after you do so that this experiment will last a full month. Well, too late to back out now. The first few days, you spend letting your body grow accustomed to hosting two frisky fish in their mating season. Your belly still aches from being filled to the point of bursting with water and gravel, and it doesn’t help that the stopper keeping it all in is constantly edging you, but not bringing you the ability to finish. The feeling of being brought so close to cumming but unable to truly finish is present almost constantly. While Dr. Florence can do nothing for your urges, she is doting on you constantly. Being your only other source of companionship for the duration of the experiment, you wholeheartedly welcome her visits after some time. She checks in at least five times a day; three of which are to drop off breakfast, lunch, and dinner daily. You’re also hooked up with a tv and laptop for entertainment as there’s not much else to do when you’re restricted to near full bedrest for a month. Every second or third day, the doctor wheels in an ultrasound machine to check the progress of how things are going on inside you. The gel is cold against the taut skin of your bare belly, but as she moves the wand across the expanded surface, you can’t help but marvel at the image on the screen of the fish interacting inside you. At the end of the first week, you feel a strange new sensation, as if something is softly rippling against the walls of your womb. When you explain this to Dr. Florence during breakfast that day, she brings in the ultrasound machine again, and sure enough, a bubble nest is taking form. The fish are laying their eggs and forming a nest like a wall around the linings of your expanded uterus. Both of you are perplexed yet intrigued by this reaction, that is until the doctor mentions she’ll now have to add more water inside you. You protest as you’re already stretched to capacity, at least five gallons of water and at least a couple pounds of aquarium gravel already contained in you for over a week now. Unfortunately, there needs to be more to counteract the water displacement of the incoming baby fish, as the bubble nest forming in you is shaping up to be larger than normal for this species. With a sigh, you surrender, and the process begins again. The doctor temporarily shuts off the filter, explaining she’ll be changing it out to a fresh one with a fully charged battery. She also replaces the hose attached to the stopper in your pussy with a catheter attached to a large bag full of water suspended from a ceiling mount. She explains pumping it in could damage the nest if the flow is too great, so this time, the water will flow in naturally and to keep your already overtaxed skin from being too overburdened at once. The process takes much longer, but the growing feeling is muted. You feel your belly slowly bulge further outward, your hips subtly widen to support the load being added. The pressure on your womanhood goes from not bad to pretty achy as it’s forced to contain more water. You subconsciously let out moans every now and then, rubbing your stomach all over to try and alleviate the tightness in your stretching skin and everbloating egg sac of a womb. It takes hours, but finally, the bag runs dry, the filter is reattached, and you’re left to get used to the new size you’ve reached. The process continues the same for the next couple weeks. You’re given your three meals a day, relax, and try to get up for a few minutes each day to avoid your leg muscles atrophying. You constantly monitor everything you feel in your belly as the eggs in the nest grow in size, each reaching the size of a marble by their full size. The occasional ultrasound keeps an eye on everything going on in your belly, and every week, more water is added in, pushing you to sizes you thought the human body couldn’t reach. It’s the last few days of the final week. You are huge. Octomom has nothing on you. Your belly stretches out past your knees, both legs sprawled to the side of your massive, water logged pregnant belly, as you’re forced in a propped up seating position on your bed. You’re too heavy to move on your own now, as the amount of water inside you is surely surpassed 20 gallons at the least. The expanse in there is so vast, you can only feel the fish move around if they brush up against the walls of your impossibly overstretched womb. And worst of it all…you’re always edging. The stopper in your pussy now holds back enough water to fill a decently sized hot tub, aquarium gravel, and two fish expecting an estimated thousand new babies judging the size the bubble nest has reached on photos. You are moaning constantly now from the pressure held back by such a tiny rubber plug. You can barely breathe in with the massive water balloon hindering your diaphragm. Every breath you take is expelled in the form of a shaky, low sigh. You literally cannot take anything more inside you, otherwise, you’re certain you’ll burst. Dr. Florence takes notice of this and is sympathetic to your plight. She explains the eggs should start hatching any day now, and once they start, you can finally expel everything being contained inside you. Your response is dragged out, broken up with moans as your mind is nearly fully focused on making sure you just don’t randomly pop from how tight you are. “P-pleeease….” you groan. “Let them….out of meeee…I’m toooo biiig…soooo fuuulll…I’m sooo readyyy.” The doctor sighs and gives you a sad smile. All she can do for you until the eggs hatch is make sure you’re as comfortable as possible. She at least tries giving you a belly rub, which feels like heaven as she gently massages your impossibly tight skin, taught as the stiffest drum head ever played. Your monads slowly turn to whimpers, and then to snores as you’re pulled into sleep. You wake up the next morning to a new sensation picked apart from between the aching pressure in your belly from being so big and the aching pressure in your cunt from not being allowed reach ecstasy for a full month. It feels like a cloud is in the center of the mass of water inside you, a cloud that you feel ripple against the edge of your womb. You think it’s the parental fish at first, but these seem more numerous…smaller….guppy-like. The realization hits you like a car crashing into a wall. The eggs have hatched. You can be free of this, finally! You immediately reach for your phone on a nightstand just within reach and contact Dr. Florence. Within minutes, she rushes in with the ultrasound to be sure your feelings are correct. As soon as the wand meets the gel smeared onto your oversized belly, you’re both met with a screen full of baby fish swimming around in a swarm inside you, the parent fish at their center. You’re amazed at the sight of this. Despite the sheer amount of pressure you feel and the burden on your body, the doctor’s experiment worked! Without a word, Dr. Florence turns off the ultrasound monitor and leaves the room. She returns half a minute later with a cart covered in a giant pad, and explains she needs to get you in front of a tank immediately to expel these fish, as the hatchlings won’t last long in the environment of your womb with limited food from the nutrients pumped in via your filter. The plan is to get you on top of the cart and wheel you to a holding tank in a room adjacent to the lab, but a problem arises almost immediately. While your belly is the size of a yoga ball now, it’s not as light as one. It takes a few minutes of trying to maneuver you from your bed to the cart before the doctor stops you out of fear you’ll cause it to collapse and rupture your belly. It’s then decided you can rest your belly atop the cart fine instead of putting your full body weight on top it, and using your legs to move the cart. The only problem is you haven’t taken a step since your last filling made you too heavy to move. Still, it’s your only option to get you to the tank, and Dr. Florence helps guide you to the door. It’s slow going, as you have to take slow steps out of caution to the massive belly attached to you. Each step you take jostles the water inside you, causing the swirling mass of fish to dart around your belly every which way, sending you into sensory overload as hundreds of guppies form a mosh pit inside your womb. What’s more is the motion of your widened hips moving with every step shakes the stopper free slightly, and the motion of that starts to not only send waves of an orgasm through you, but water starts to leak out. You’re only halfway to the door, and you’re crying out for release as you unintentionally nearly deliver prematurely all over the floor. Thinking fast, Dr. Florence grabs each of your ankles and tucks them under her arms like she’s grabbing the handles of a wheelbarrow. Simultaneously, she plugs your leaking vagina with the only thing she has at hand: her fist. You cry out louder, the overwhelming orgasmic shockwave of being fisted as she rushes you quickly as she can out into the lab, and to a set of double doors on the far side from the doorway you entered through one month ago to the day. Your belly roils with the mass of fish ready to escape from inside you. Your sopping wet pussy is starting to leak through her fist. Every hyperventilated breath coming from you as you ride this out is a cry of orgasm. You need to release. Now. You’re pushed through the double doors and unceremoniously spun around, your backside at the edge of a tank just tall enough for one to step over and be waste deep if it weren’t empty. Dr. Florence tells you the second she pulls out her hand, let go. You’ve been waiting to hear her say those words for what feels like eons. You are so ready. You need to give birth. You beg out in a scream for her to get her hand out of you. Once she finally pulls her hand free with the stopper, that’s it. The dam has broken. You shriek out in a long loud cry of mixed emotions: pleasure, relief, thankfulness, as you release a torrent of water, gravel, and fish spill out from inside you and into the holding tank. The overall feeling is a sense-overloading orgasm that leaves you screaming in delight for a full minute as you expel everything you’ve held in your womb for a month. The tightness and pressure are gone as your belly shrinks with each gallon came out, taking a few minutes but finally returning to its original size afterwards. You immediately collapse onto the padded cart, unable to do anything but breathe deeply for the first time in what feels like ages. Sweat and tears pour down your face in relief that it’s finally over. The doctor commends you for a job well done, but you barely register it as you’re still in the aftershock of the longest pleasure release of your life. You finally look back into the tank. Hundreds of fish now swim around their new home, seemingly much happier to have more space and more light. You smile, watching them all dart around their new holding tank. After you recover, Dr Florence makes a count of how many hatchlings made it out of the clutch. The final total turns out to be over 1200, one of the largest nests ever recorded for this species! After spending some time maturing, some go out into the aquarium exhibits while the rest are sent off to other aquariums or similar institutions. In your new job as chief marine biologist, you find yourself walking the halls of the aquarium, sometimes stopping by the tank some of your fish are in. Dr. Florence once makes a joke that one of them has your eyes. While impossible, it does make you wonder…would it be possible next time?