I Want To Be Lying On My Side With Your 11 Pound Baby Pushing Through My Cervix, Slowly Inching Forward

Giving them labor suppressants as soon as they feel the first cramp seizing their tight belly up. So everytime they feel like going into labor they need to ask you to give them their pills. They take a little time to work, so they need to ride out a few contractions before the contractions tone down.

The babies move lower and lower, soon they're always moaning and groaning with how overwhelmingly full they are. As weeks pass they need to take them more and more frequently. Their body is so ready to give birth, they beg you to finally let them give in but you want your babies to grow even bigger inside their poor tummy.

One day you need to leave the house for a couple of hours. When you get back home you find them already kneeling at the front door, holding their throbbing belly, trying to pant through a heavy contraction.

"They're coming, they're coming ... I can't hold them any longer ... please let me push ..."

But of course they're not allowed. You give them some suppressants and watch their labor stop, the first babies head already halfway into the birth canal.

found footage

You turn on the video.

It’s of a man filming himself with a phone. He fiddles with it, eventually settling it on what you assume to be a tripod or stand of some kind. He steps back and now his round, distended stomach is in plain view.

“I’m not sure how to start this,” he says. “My contractions started yesterday but they’re still pretty mild. My doctor says I’m a medical mystery. I think if I give birth in a hospital, they’ll take the… The baby away from me. I’m at my family’s cabin now. There’s no one around for–”

He grimaces, hands rubbing his belly. His breathing becomes strained.

“The contractions are getting worse now, about ten minutes apart.”

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You sit there, rubbing the top of my belly. I can feel your child sitting heavier and heavier into my hips every day. It turns me on to think about just how big your baby is. My hips ache but then just the thought of you rubbing the crease where my belly hits my hips gets me so hot. When you do it you always stand behind me, your face sitting above my shoulder to watch while your hands start at the crease then work their way all over my belly. I love the relief that comes when you lift the bump out of my hips, but I also love the weight when you set it back down. It can be uncomfortable at times but I love the constant physical reminder of what you've done to me. Your baby is so well cared for and growing so well. I hate that this weight also means we're almost done, but that doesn't mean we can't do it again.

There has been an outbreak of rapid pregnancy leading to unknown outcomes -- potentially dangerous! Please be aware!

Getting kinda big, I can’t keep my hands of my belly. What’s inside of it?

The Blessings of the Brotherhood

For request 465.13

13. an order of monks where, sometimes, they get pregnant. no one knows why. the robes hide it well enough, and they're not supposed to speak on it. when a brother gives birth, he is meant to do it alone, and leave the child at the alter when no one sees him. no one knows what happens to the infants...until one brother rebels.

As the newest monk in the order, you never have the good work, or the easy tasks. You spend most of your working hours laboring away outside in the fields, chopping firewood, or otherwise doing something back-breaking. It keeps you lean and fit, as all the young second-order monks are. You and your peers keep the abbey heated, fed, clean, and in good repair while the first order actually performs the service to your god- acquisition and safekeeping of knowledge. 

Every twelve hours, a service is held in the temple, the elder monks seat on low benches before the abbot, and the second order kneeling in rows behind them. You pray every day for your god to use you as his vessel, to make you an instrument of the faith, and to grant you the patience and wisdom to recognize his blessing when it comes. When you lift your head and survey your brothers in faith, you notice Brother Aspen is missing from his spot near the first order's benches. He'd been a little off for a few weeks now, and you ponder if he had had an injury or illness. 

Rising from the morning service, you take your usual task for the day from the elder monk who oversees the second order and go to the wood shed. Wagons of wood have been dumped to one side, and you will split and stack as much as you can for the day before evening service. It's one of the few tasks that permit you to remove your robes, leaving you in a thin linen shirt and plain trousers. 

You chop wood all morning and afternoon, pausing only for water and brief rests to catch your breath. You're unsure as to what your brothers do during their menial labors, but you recite the prayers you learned in the abbey's school down the hill, preparing to enter as a monk. It means you pray for hours and hours every day and have since your induction into the second order several months prior. You wonder if it makes you a good monk, or merely one who doesn't understand the calling of your god. 

By the evening service, you are physically exhausted, but you take your spot at the back and watch as the rest of your brothers file in, robes perfectly ordered and faces lowered. The abbot begins the first prayer, voice smooth and even and ringing in the temple chamber, echoed by the brothers. You notice the abbot's robes aren't falling quite right for once, but know better than to remark upon it at dinner. No one ever remarks upon why. 

When you recite the last prayer, entreating your god to use you as an instrument for the faith, as a vessel for his will, to bless you as he sees fit, you feel a warm sort of squeeze low in your belly. Thinking nothing of it, you rise at the end and go to the refectory for your dinner. Your days pass in a very similar fashion, right down to the warm squeeze in your pelvis at the end of every service. By the end of the week, you've begun to anticipate that squeeze. You've also noticed the abbot looking distinctly blessed, as it were. Sooner or later, he will miss a service and then all will be as it was. Indeed, he misses the evening service a week after those warm sensations began, and at the end of the final prayer, you feel a distinct pop! instead of the usual pulse. You eat dinner as usual, speaking amongst your friends, and go to bed with a final prayer before blowing out the candle. 

In the morning, when you dress, you notice your trousers are fitting rather snug. Usually comfortable and easy to move in, they're tight across the front of your hips and lower belly. There are no mirrors in the abbey, but you think maybe your middle feels a little less flat than it normally does- that, or the monks in the laundry boiled the clothes too long again. You carry on with your day, eating breakfast, attending the morning service, and then taking this week's assignment. The abbot lets his eye linger over you for a moment before sending you to the kitchens. Surprised, you report to the cook-monk and begin washing the endless supply of dishes. As you work, you recite your prayers over and over and over. When everyone departs for the evening service, your trousers are pinching terribly, and you know. 

Instead of praying for the god's blessing, you recite the prayers of thanks and gratitude. He chose you to carry his next offering, to use you as his vessel. You indeed had patience to wait to be sure, and wisdom enough to recognize the earliest signs. You've been in the abbey less than a year, and already carrying an offering inside you!

At dinner, you're quieter but immensely pleased, and eat your meal quickly to retire to your room. Shedding your robes, you notice the way your once-flat middle pushes out between your hip bones, straining the waist of your trousers. Releasing the buttons, you know immediately that you won't be able to do them back up in the morning, the bulge pushing out as the pressure is released. Stripping down to your undergarment, you smooth your hands over the firm bulge, your callouses scraping the smooth skin. Out of habit, you recite a prayer in your head, and feel a gentle pressure against your palms. Did your belly... grow?

Kneeling down beside your cot, you rest your hands on the modest bulge and bow your head. One after another, you recite every prayer that you could possibly apply to your situation. The more you mean them, the more your gut begins to strain out and away from your body. And with every bit of growth, the gratitude becomes more and more sincere. 

When the curfew bell rings, you jolt out of a sort of trace, and admire the taut globe under your hands. Deep inside you, something swishes and flutters. Your blessing! Deeply satisfied, you clamor quickly into bed, eager for the morning and yet more to offer your god. 

Dressing for the day, you can fit into only your robes, your stomach having swollen further through the night. Eating quickly, you are one of the first into the temple for the service, second only to the abbot. He watches you cross to your spot near the back, undeniably blessed, and there is surprise in his features. Kneeling down and lowering your head, you begin to pray again. During the service, you hardly notice any growth at all, but once you're back washing dishes, everything accelerates again. Twelve hours at a sink leave you with lots of time for worship, and your burgeoning belly swells outward, eventually impeding your ability to reach into the deepest sink. The flutters turned to swoops and rolls and then undeniable hands and feet under your skin and robes. Leaving the back corner of the kitchen, the cook-monk does a double-take when he sees your altered gait. You pray fervently in the service, pulling your navel another inch away from your spine, weight sinking deeply into your pelvis. Soon, so soon, you will have committed your first offering to your god!

The moment your door closes behind you, you strip naked again and stroke the prodigious belly hanging off of your frame. Kneeling beside your bed again, you get through the first line of the first prayer of gratitude when something gives way inside you, and fluid gushes from your hole to splatter on the floor. Again, you sink into the trance as you pray, meaning every word with every fibre of yourself. Your enormous belly visibly tightens in a regular pattern, the weight sinking further into your pelvis, pleasure rolling in waves through you. You stroke your erect cock with one hand as a spasm rolls through you, tipping your head back in pleasure. 

Just as the curfew bell rings, you feel the undeniable urge to bear down. Pressure and pleasure mix as you tuck your chin, pushing and praying in equal measure. Something begins to spread your hole, and you reach back to feel the muscular ring sitting open about an inch. The next spasm seizes you, and you mentally scream your prayers to your god as your body clenches down in ecstasy. Your hole softens and spreads more, leaving your hand there to feel your progress. The next spasm never relents, spreading your body as you stroke your cock with one hand and cup your blessing as it emerges from your body with the other. Stuck in the unrelenting spasm, you silently scream through a few orgasms as the blessing is pushed out into the world. 

Slumped against the edge of the bed, it takes a few minutes for you to come around enough to reach down and touch the babe between your thighs. There's no cord, no afterbirth, just aftershocks as your belly returns to its sleek, lean state right before your eyes. Scooping the babe up, you wrap him in a towel from your washstand. Absolute perfection. Your god planted a seed of his power in your body, and your devoutness brought forth the blessing in a matter of days, instead of the two or more weeks most monks take- only the abbot could do it a single week. 

Laying down on the bed with your perfect bundle, you drift off without meaning to, and wake late the following morning. No one would bother you unless you called for aid- some brothers took days to be delivered of their blessings. The child rooted at your chest, and you didn't protest when he latched onto your nipple, though you hadn't developed breasts. The babe was nourished anyway, a hot prickle announcing the let down of milk. Amazed, you fed him from the other side before drifting off again. 

You next awoke in the middle of the night, though a candle burned on your bedtable. Sitting on the foot of the bed was a glorious, naked man. Impossible to describe visually but radiating heat, and with the cleverest golden eyes. 

"You didn't bring your offering to my alter," the god said mildly, studying the way you cradled the babe against you. 

You lower your head, ashamed. "I have failed you, my lord."

The god shook his head. "I will overlook the disobedience this time, but next time, the offering must be given over to the alter, to me. Do you understand?"

You nod sadly, offering the babe to him. He takes pity on you briefly, speaking as he accepts the child. 

"This is the price the founders of this abbey agreed to pay in exchange for the ability to find and preserve the knowledge of this world," the god said, tucking the babe into the crook of his elbow. "The brothers will bear my offerings, but not raise them. Instead, these babes are raised throughout the kingdom- to return to join the order and continue to seek the knowledge of this place, and bring forth the next brothers. Only when all of history and learning is safe within these walls will the price be considered paid." 

You marvel up at your god. "But that's... we can never achieve that. Not when this kingdom, when civilization continues to expand, to make progress!"

"I know," the god said, smirking as he rose with the babe. "Enjoy your blessing."

Deep in your belly, you felt that distinct pop! again. Without hesitating, you began to recite your prayers again, a bulge pushing outward between your hipbones again. 

It's Rambles again! Bit of a long one this time, but here you go!

Okay but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this silly scenario and I thought you’d enjoy!!! A guy in college who finally gets the freedom he needs away from his small town upbringing and its rules and he finds himself in a downtown bustling area his first year of college with a roommate in a small bunk bed dormitory. He couldn’t be happier, and he uses his newfound freedom to go out to clubs in clothes that are barely wider than belts and hook up with all the strangers he’s ever fantasized about.

And it doesn’t take long for it all to catch up with him. Within just a few weeks he’s got a very small curve to his stomach that’s just beginning to press against the top button of his jeans but he waves it off. Everyone gains the freshman 15, who cares?! And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t linger putting on his shirt in the morning just to feel his roommates eyes burning into his body, hungry and desperate. A few weeks later and he can’t deny that somethings wrong when he can’t even button his pants anymore, let alone even get the zip up.

It’s not a question of if he’s pregnant, no the shock comes when he finds out it’s quadruplets. And this seems to fuel him even more. Why be careful now that he’s already pregnant? It’s not like he can get knocked up again!!

Or so he thinks until he’s staring at an ultrasound monitor in shock seeing now six little blobs of varying sizes. Huh, looks like he can get more pregnant. His roommate thinks this’ll deter him from his late night club hookups but it doesn’t. If anything he goes from unintentionally to very intentionally getting more knocked up with every week. He wears tights and fish nets and crop tops and loves the feeling of strangers hands on the soft of his hips, the once-sharp jut of his hip bones now disappearing under a swollen, perfectly round baby bump still small enough to pass off as just a few months along with one. He loves walking home afterwards with his hand on the small underside of his belly thinking of if he’s just gotten a new baby in there. Some nights he comes home and collapses into bed after multiple hookups in one night and his roommate swears he looks slightly bigger than when he’d left that evening

Maybe he’ll start to regret it when he’s barely able to sit behind his desk in class, his belly irresponsibly spilling out and taking up his entire lap as it shifts and wobbles slightly on its own from the sheer amount of baby in there. He’s always got one hand on it just to feel the barely-there fluttering in his womb, trying to ignore the hungry stares of the football team behind him, knowing that the second class ends he may just get a few new additions to take home. And he’s still got months before the first one is out!

i wish i had more to add but you wrote this perfectly omg. the idea of a cute pregnant boy strutting down to the club, hand holding his big old bump… bet the roommate wants to have a turn and knock up the boy up himself, especially since he gets a front row seat to the boy growing.

now i don’t know if it’s better for it to be babies at different development or if the new babies catch up to their older siblings

either way omg anon this was so good and i will now be thinking about this while im out

This outbreak is not sparing anyone! If you are a breeder and feel a suddenly swelling or mass under your navel, please be aware you are potentially inseminated!

Parasite growing inside host

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 😖