Latest Posts by birthbitchii - Page 10

Crossection of an Omega style male pregnancy.

Anal birth can be just as exciting as vaginal.

I want to be lying on my side with your 11 pound baby pushing through my cervix, slowly inching forward and opening me little by little. I want your baby to slip back in everytime a contraction ends. I want to whimper in frustration and pain as I push again but your baby slips back in. To be stuck on my side gripping my tight belly as I pant like a bitch in heat. As my puffy lips spread around your baby's fat head. I want to moan and scream and lean into each push. I want to do it twice over. After all, you gave me triplets.

when they're so close to going into labor they're constantly rocking their hips bc the baby is so low in their pelvis it feels like they're just gonna fall out. siiiiighhhhhhhhhhhhh

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 😖

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.

You don’t want to believe you’re in labor already, so soon? You have three weeks before your due date but you’re already feeling contractions.

You start to breathe deep breaths, trying to contain your nervousness. You know it maybe time, but you’re doing everything you can to prolong the inevitable. Spreading your legs surely wouldn’t rush this process, now would it?

You start to grind against the fabric that you’re sitting on, panties getting soaked in either your own wetness or your water about to break, but your eyes shut and you’re basking in the pleasant feeling.

“Oooh.” You moan out as you grind faster, your pregnant bump hitting the fabric. Your panties are now completely soaked from the thought of riding some cock. “Oh, God.” Your head tilts back as the feeling of grinding on something tough just instantly makes you orgasm.

You fall over for a moment in pure bliss, but the moment your hand reaches down to touch your panties, you can feel something between your legs. Maybe if you press down, it will shove the head back in? And you do so, ever so slowly you toy with the crowning head between your legs.

This is me in bed, writhing in pain. Can you help me keep my legs open so I can push?!

Please? Oh GOD I NEED TO PUSH! AUUUUH!

this video 🫠🫠

oh to be kissed through contractions like that… the both of us enjoying what’s happening to my body, the baby you pumped in me getting out and causing me a lot of pain… but the kissing makes it better, and I’m still thinking about how you were just pumping in to me five minutes ago to get the baby out!! 🥵🥵

Waiting for the baby to start crowning.

.REPOST.

you have a gif that you’ve used a few times of a man in red putting some sort of powder on a pregnant woman’s stomach, forcing her into labor in some sort of ritual. do you know what movie that’s from? it looks so familiar but i can’t find anything!

Hi, it's from Soul's Midnight 2006.

pregnant huge Belly teacher contractions

breeding you full and not telling you a single thing about it.

all you know is that, one day, you’re sick, and i’m holding your hair out of the way (if it’s long) and cooing to you and rubbing your back, and making sure you stay well fed and hydrated.

then, one day, you’re trying to put on a cute little outfit, and it’s… difficult. your tummy is poking out a bit, your hips are a bit wider, your chest has filled out. i have been keeping you well fed since you got sick, that’s probably it. you frustratedly tug on the outfit, shrug, and leave it on. it’s still cute, after all.

in bed, you notice how enamored i am with your midriff, and giggle. i’m so silly about these things, saying stuff that doesn’t make sense. your belly is just your belly. but if i insist on whispering to it conspiratorially and giving it rubs, well, those rubs have been feeling pretty good lately…

one day, you take a moment to study yourself in the mirror. you’re getting REALLY round, and you don’t know why. it’s kinda cute, and i certainly seem to like it, but none of your tops fit right, and i don’t seem interested in taking you shopping for more. you’re a bit worried something might be wrong with your belly. it’s been feeling so heavy lately, and it almost feels like something’s moving in there.

so, i take you to the doctor (vet). i chat with them quietly while you poke curiously at your bulging abdomen, oblivious to what we’re saying. the doc looks you over, then has you lay down and starts squirting a weird gel on your bare stomach, which makes you shudder and giggle. the doc uses a tool to rub along the surface of your belly, staring intently at a screen while i stare over their shoulder, occasionally glancing at you and giving you a smile. we seem to be counting something, and the doctor’s eyes are getting wider and wider. i seem giddy, walking around to you and showering your face with kisses and saying something about “how good you’re doing,” and picking you up off the bed, laughing out a joke to the doctor about carrying you “while i still can.” utterly confused but happy to be in my arms, you snuggle against me as i walk you back out of the clinic.

one day, you’re wishing i would carry you more often. walking around is getting hard on your own, but when you try to get in my arms, i keep you solidly on the floor, saying “no baby, you’re too heavy now.” as if you don’t know that, as if that isn’t why you want me to carry you. you can’t understand why your belly won’t stop growing, why i won’t help you. did you do something wrong? is this some kind of punishment?

but, then again, you start whining and getting mopey, and i hold you against me, and i reach under your belly, and i make you feel good again. in this moment, something about being so big just feels… right. it feels really, really, really good.

one day, you try to roll out of bed. you try again. you huff and strain and moan, trying to shift your massive belly. you can’t. you whine to get my attention, and i come around and lever my hands beneath you, helping you sit up, then take your hands to get you to your feet. your knees buckle, and i barely manage to maneuver you back to the bed rather than risking you dropping straight to the floor. you sink into the mattress with a gasping huff, clutching at the great swell that’s weighing you down so much, almost crying in exasperation, but i kiss you and caress you and rub your stretched belly (almost making it worse, that strange sensation of bulging movement gets stronger when i touch you like that).

all you can do is lay in bed, eat the meals i bring you, and silently plead with your belly to stop getting bigger. it doesn’t listen.

I keep on trying to answer this but my brain turns into mush every time I read it so ummm… I’ll reblog with person thoughts evenfuallg

having slow-rapid pregnancy thoughts

we have a fun, rowdy evening, and i fill you up multiple times. we didn’t use protection, but based on the time of month, it’s probably fine.

(spoilers: it’s not)

later that night, after we drift off to sleep, i have a bleary moment of semi-consciousness. i’m spooning you, hand on your tummy, and i can feel just the slightest unexpected resistance. at first i figure it’s just you breathing, but… i could swear there’s just an almost nonexistent stretch, so subtly rounding you out. i grin and pull you closer before drifting off again.

the next morning, you definitely look bloated, but not unnaturally so. you check it out in the mirror (i check you out in the mirror), we get breakfast, and you leave to go about your day.

you keep looking down at your bulging tummy throughout the morning, expecting it to go down, rather than do the opposite. by lunchtime, you start feeling fluttery movements, and you know something’s wrong.

it’s slow enough that no one can SEE you growing, but you very clearly look pregnant when you obviously weren’t the last time your classmates saw you. i’d guess you’re expanding at a rate of a month of gestation every three hours or so, and you’re definitely carrying more than one.

it certainly doesn’t help that your outfit is about as far from obscuring your figure as your wardrobe can get. when you sit down, you can hear seams stretching ominously.

- 🦑

I’ve been keeping track of my cycle for long enough now that i don’t think twice about letting you fill me up, even begging for it, pleading dumbly for you to breed me while im completely drunk on pleasure.

we both like when you keep your hand on my belly after sex, so of course you notice when i start swelling. im already asleep by then, and you don’t mention it in the morning - you just look at me in the mirror while i check the bloating, before we both move on with our days.

the bloating doesn’t go down. im a little self conscious of how tight my shirt is around it, and my jeans are fairly tight, like always, and if i weren’t in classes i would have them unbuttoned by now. I ignore it the best i can. my stomach isn’t upset or anything, if anything im more hungry than usual, so im having lunch when i start feeling flutters inside me.

i finish eating and rush to the bathroom, unbuttoning my jeans and pulling up my shirt — which feels even tighter than it was before — enough to see how obviously swollen I’ve gotten. i rub my hands over my belly a few times, making sure I’m not imagining it. im not.

i can’t do anything until im done with classes for the day. At least, I try to finish classes. i make it through my next one, but my third and final class of the day is interrupted by the seams of my jeans tearing - and not quietly, either. i go bright red and excuse myself, heading straight home after that.

by the time we’re both home, im five, maybe sixth months along, size-wise — though i look well past full term. im surprised my shirt lasted as long as it did, though the seams on that tear during my commute back home.

we have at least another nine hours left. and, past the concern, im indescribably turned on.

it’s not like i can get any more pregnant if we spend the next nine hours breeding, right?

When a belly visibly drops reblog if you agree.

Hmmmm.....what should my next spontaneous pregnancy and birth be 🤔?

forced birth

imagine you start a new form of birth control, and at first you think it’s working just fine. it even has the added benefit of completely stopping your period. your libido has ramped up a bit as well, but you have an *extremely successful* social life. that’s what the bc is for in the first place.

all is well until about a month after you start it, when you start noticing some… interesting weight gain. you’d shrug it off as another symptom of the bc, but you want to be sure, so you take a test. negative, thank god. aside from the slight paranoia, your partners certainly don’t seem to mind the soft, supple changes.

but you keep growing. within a week, you’re having to find larger pants and bras/binders to make room for your new curves. to say your tummy is noticeable would be putting it lightly.

you arrive at the doc’s office. she openly stares at you when she sees you, and lets you know that she’s going to do an ultrasound on you. you let her know that you’ve taken three tests at this point, all of them negative. she laughs nervously.

“I think you might be having an… unexpected reaction to the new birth control.”

she explains that what may have happened is, rather than fully stopping your cycle, the birth control locked you into the stage of the cycle you were experiencing when you started it. which, in your case, seems to have been ovulation.

“In other words, I think you may have been ovulating nonstop for the past two months. I’d guess that’s an egg or two every week, maybe three,” she says, as she places the wand on your sensitive midriff and begins sliding it around.

“Out of curiosity,” she says with an edge in her voice, “how frequently have you been sexually active?” you try not to notice how pale her face has gone.

you’re starting to feel a little dizzy from all this new information. you let her now that, before you started the new stuff, you’d average about one hook-up a week, maybe twice with an fwb, but with your upped sexual drive… it’s been a bit more than that.

she looks at the screen, and goes even paler. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re already laying down. No good way to say this, so I’ll just show you.”

she turns the screen to you.

you faint before you’re able to finish counting.

idea/fantasy: i’m your overdue trans guy roommate. i share everything with you not knowing about your kink. i’ve started complaining about how sick I am of being pregnant, eventually you give into temptation and offer your help. you use teas and herbs and massages to jumpstart my labor. i comply happily, appreciating the help, and am even excited when i feel the first light contractions, i even have you time them to figure out when i should head to the hospital. i have no idea what i’m in for. 12 hours later im still in our apartment, totally at your mercy. i realized far too late why you’d been so eager to assist, and now i’m stuck on the bathroom floor trying to bring a 12lb baby to crown. i’m shouting and crying hysterically as each push wrenches me open, and there’s still a massive bulge sitting just inside. i’ve long given up on begging, the only help you’ll give is to hold my thighs wide apart so you can enjoy the show.

fuckkk anon, that sounds like the dream. getting the chance to see your huge belly everyday would already be great - i'd always be watching you, seeing how your struggle grows everyday, how you're constantly rubbing circles into your aching back and strained bump, hurting all over even before the contractions first started.

i have to bite my tongue when you say you're sick of being pregnant. i would love to see you like this a little longer, just to see how much more weight you'd be able to carry on your slim hips. but i also can't deny i'm excited for your labor. the desire to see you scream out your baby is far stronger than the wish to see you pregnant. so i help you kickstart your labor, and fuck the sight of you doubling over, moaning and panting in pain, every time a contraction hits, is just exquisite.

you're too busy riding out the waves of pain to notice my grin as i time your contractions and announce how short the pauses become, getting closer and closer to the real deal. i reach over to touch your massive belly every now and then, you lean into my hand not yet realising that it's not the touch of a friend trying to be supportive but more akin to a predator toying with its prey. i can't get enough of feeling your bump contracting harshly, and hearing you moan and grunt.

i keep up the act for so long, i start to internally laugh at your naive nature. only when you say it's time to go to the hospital and i flatly deny it, do you become suspicious. suspicion turns to nervousness when you insist and i still don't comply, and then slowly morphs into panic, the clearer it becomes i'm serious and not just playing a mean joke. you become frantic, your words become pleading. i find i enjoy it massively. you've sunken to your knees, the contractions too strong to stay standing, and you're clutching your distended, rippling belly, tears forming in your eyes. you're begging, you're begging for quite some time. you cry, panicked, when i force my fingers inside you to check your dilation - you're dilating fast.

it takes hours until you give up and surrender to your fate of being my own personal entertainment. by now you're too deep into labor to try and argue anymore anyway. your panting and moaning has turned to screaming and sobbing. transition was definitely one of my favorite things to witness - the most painful part of labor. the way you shrieked and thrashed, big fat tears rolling down your cheeks. it lasted almost two hours, and i was thrilled the entire time, couldn't take my eyes off you for a single moment. i was kind of disappointed when it was over and you calmed down a little to take a breather. i decided you needed a proper birthing place - if you kept doing it here, our fine carpet might get dirty with your fluids. i dragged you to your feet, forcing you to walk to the bathroom despite the unbearable pressure in your pelvis. gravity brought the baby down faster.

and now we're here, on the bathroom floor. we have been for several hours now. the head is truly enormous, that bulge is probably the most beautiful thing i've ever seen. your skin stretched taut, an angry bruised red, and your lips fluttering around the top of the baby's head, trying to open up enough to let it pass. you've been trying for so long and still can barely get it crowning. i'm surprised you even got it all the way to your lips through your narrow hips if i'm honest.

your shouting and crying is music to my ears. your trembling, sweating body and your face scrunched up in agony are what my dreams are made of. i've watched you for twelve hours already, i'll gladly watch you for another twelve, or even more. i don't want it to end. i'll wait until you've got the head to a crown - i want to see how you react to the famous ring of fire, i want to see you writhe and wail as the burning stretch reaches its widest, most agonizing point -, i'll let you have that feeling of success for a few minutes because i'm not a monster, despite what you may think right now, you know? you can feel happy about your accomplishment. and when you've had your share, i'll place my hand on your bulging pussy.

didn’t i say i'd love to see you pregnant a bit longer but prefer seeing you suffer through labor? well, i realised... why choose when i can have both? i'll place my hand on the baby's head and give it a nice gentle shove. oh, the scream you let out as that white hot pain sears through your nether region up into your entire body will be glorious

force your sub to keep doing their schoolwork while they birth for you. you don't want them to fail their uni classes, right? besides, they're not an animal. they should still be able to think even as it descends deeper and deeper in their pelvis. right?

student who goes into labor during class and manages to hide the pain all the way until they get home and finally ripping their clothes off, collapsing onto the bed, and screaming as the baby crowns