Imagine You're In A Breeding Program And Your Only Job Is To Get Pregnant And Give Birth. You've Been

I get so turned on when you go into labor with my babies that I just need to fuck more in to you right then and there. So what if I delay the birth and make you bigger?

It turns you on seeing me in such a vulnerable situation? What is it that gets you horny? My overfilled belly heaving with contractions? The way I groan and whimper with all that pressure building up inside me? Or the way I'm being so helpless and vulnerable, completely at your mercy?

I'm all yours, use me as it pleases you. But these babies need to come out 🥺 I can't control it, I feel myself opening up, they're so low. You fucking me would make me lose my mind, I'd be begging you to let me push, to please let me give birth, that they're coming now, only to feel you pumping my tight belly even fuller 😖

How many months are you?

I’m already so big but have so much more growing to do! I can feel them all fighting for the little space they have 🥵

TW for dubcon and eggpreg

It would be so hot to carry a clutch and not even realise until you start feeling yourself out.

Perhaps you got too drunk, perhaps that was a job of some aphrodisiac, but you know you had a blurry one night stand with no protection. You barely remember what happened before or who was the one taking advantage of your drunken state. All you know is that it felt unique, so different from all the other sexual expiriaces you had. Maybe it was intoxication, maybe the fact it was raw. No matter what, you did your damage control by popping a morning after pill. You think you'll just forget about it all soon.

But just a day later you start noticing some changes, your breasts feel sore, your belly looks a little bloated, and you feel a bit nauseous. You chuck it up to side effects of the pill. You try eating a bit better as to not upset your stomach. As you go about your day the nausea starts to pass, but your belly seems to grow, ever so slightly.

At night you are woken up by the feeling of your skin stretching around your belly, it was feeling so tight against the rapid growth. You get up, starting to notice your center of mass has shifted, you feel yourself out, it's no longer just a little bloat, you look around five months along.

You take a pregnancy test, as you wait for the results you start to track down every single time you had sex in those months. You think the most recent encounter was way too early, thinking the one who must have knocked you up is your ex. You panic a little over the thought until you noticed the test results. Oh ...

It's... negative? No no way it can be, you look pregnant, you are growing. You rub your bundle of mystery that's your stomach, it is full, but there's no movement inside, it feels slightly irregular. You take another test, thinking the last one was faulty, also comes out a negative.

You get back to bed, cradling your aching belly, already having plans to book a doctor's visit. But as soon as morning comes, you notice something unusual about your bump. You can feel out round things slightly bulging out of it, they're around the size of your hand. You attempt to poke one through your skin, they're hard, they don't move.

Wait are those... eggs? You play with your sensitive body a bit more feeling them shift inside you as you try to feel out how much you're carrying. You start feeling on the border of horny and afraid, there must be at least half a dozen, but it feels so good to have them inside.

You change your plans, actively avoiding going to the doctor. There's no one out there who would know what to do with your predicament. You start being glad you work a remote job, knowing you can spend a whole day not afraid of people looking at your gravid form.

Every day you develop a bit of a routine, oiling your growing body, making more food to sustain yourself, checking in on the size of the life growing inside you. You try to subtly find the stranger who got you in that state, you knew it was that one night stand that got you here.

By the end of the week you look overdue, and can barely move around your house. The eggs inside seem to have grown bigger than a head of a baby. You're almost bound to your house, walking around naked because you can't reach down to wear any sort of pants. You can't wait to get the eggs out of you. But at the same time there's no sign of this being the end of your journey.

The desperation when they're stuck at full crown and the head won't move. Crying and wailing and begging. Pushing uselessly even when they're not contracting. Desperate to escape the horrible burning stretch. It's right there, holding them brutally open. It's going to take a couple good strong pushes to come all the way out but their strength is already failing and they can't think through the mind numbing pressure and pain. So they writhe and scream, wasting energy they can't afford to lose.

me when the-

Too Many Babies, Too Much Movement

My belly is a dense mass of misshapen flesh distending from my lap, its roundness deformed with the bulges, valleys, and plains across its surface that are caused by baby bodies and heads pressing against it. It towers over me, my own fearsome fertility glaring down at me, the hideous pressure inside from seven, eight, maybe more, fetuses making me moan pitifully.

Then the babies move.

I can’t withhold a wail of agony as my massive abdomen begins to churn visibly on my lap, the sound one of horror as much as it is one of pain. My belly is churning, the flesh undulating in front of me, my mass of unborn children writhing in a pile inside me. My uterus bulges, feet and heads and hands distorting the already deformed surface of my flesh with their movements, the entire mass alive with eager internal activity.

I’m moaning constantly, a pitiful and helpless cry of despair and agony emanating from my throat like a siren. My entire body had been colonized by these babies, my breasts engorged for their milk, my hips widened for their birth, my poor belly blown up and out and destroyed for their gestation. I know that after they’re born I will never look the same, I will be forever transformed by the incredible pregnancy I’ve been made to endure.

The babies won’t stop. It feels like I’m going to pop. There are so many packed in there, the babies piled on top of each other, squirming and kicking against each other, that my belly is warping grotesquely as it leers down at me. My voice is a guttural groan, throaty and coarse as my mind reels at the thought of being ripped open. My skin burns, already stretched way beyond its limit and aching terribly as my children torture it further with their aggressive movements. Desperately, I reach up and grab whatever painful bulges jutting out from my mound that I can reach, trying to push the babies’ limbs and heads back inside me, my belly so large that I can’t reach the softball-sized protrusions at the top of my womb.

My belly jerks in my arms, the entire mass heaving from side to side as if trying to escape from my grasp. My breasts, painfully engorged and massively enlarged, are pressed up into my face and threaten to smother me. I feel wetness trailing down the impressive curves of my tits and the front downward slope of my belly, and I know it’s because the pressure has caused my nipples to gush milk from their enormous supply.

I want to give birth. I want to get them out. But I can’t. They’re not done growing. They need to be bigger.

It’s my fate to my taken over by babies. I am a slave to pregnancy.

Getting out of a chair got harder and harder as his pregnancy progressed. He was beginning to think that he was too old for this game

impending birth reflecting feelings of impending doom. feeling your belly drop, the baby getting lower, hips aching...being so, so scared of what has to happen. wanting it out--it's so heavy--but also praying that it stays in, for just one more day. putting yourself on bedrest, trying to delay the inevitable, when you feel that first practice contraction. knowing that the longer you wait, the bigger it gets, but trying to put it off anyway.