18+ Blog. Despite My Name, I'm Actually A Trans Guy.

Okay don't mind me, I've just been reading too much about various sorts of mythology stuff and... old myths genuinely have a lot more weird pregnancy things than you'd expect (I still find the fact that Odin's eight-legged horse in Norse mytholohy is the son of Loki - whom Loki was pregnant wirh anf gave birth to, mind - way too funny, although that's completely beside the point), so... this isn't inspired directly by a specific myth, but reading random mythology stuff is kinda what put this into my mind

Anyway, I've been thinking of a boy who somehow manages to royally piss off a fertility god. Perhaps he defiles their shrine, or steal some sacred item or mess with their priest - or maybe him just refuses to do something the god wants him to do. And because gods are so well-known for never being spiteful and always giving proportionate and reasonable punishments (extreme sarcasm), the god curses the boy to become pregnant, but unable to give birth unless some extremely specific conditions are met. Maybe he can only give birth at one specific location, or has to eat some specific hard-to-aquire thing to induce labor, or it's one of those seemingly impossible and contradictory "neither at sea nor on land, neither at day nor at night, neither alone nor with other people" kind of conditions (i pulled that specific one out of my ass but you can find similar kind of contradictory and stupidly specific shit in mythology sometimes, you get my point), or some combination of the above, or some other stupidly specific and unintuitive condition, idk.

And the boy doesn't know the condition, of course. The first nine months he simply waits for the pregnancy to run its course, but as the months stretch on past the ninth, past the tenth, with no sign of the pregnancy coming to an end, he realizes he's not getting off the hook that easily. By then, of course, he's so heavily pregnant that everything is difficult - he can't walk very far at once at all, he needs ridiculous amounts of fabric to have clothes that fit, the baby - or babies, rather; he can't tell but he thinks he must have two or three in there - are restless and kick and writhe so he hardly has a moment's peace from them...

So he becomes searching for some solution, some way to birth the babies. First whatever conventional ways there are to induce labor. None of them do anything. He prays and makes sacrifices to the god, groveling and apologizing and begging for relief. No response. Then, he begins to seek out wise people, priests and oracles and shamans, first close by, then traveling further and further away to find someone who could tell him what to do.

It takes years, years of incredibly difficult travel, of weird looks from others and humiliation and yet often having to rely on the aid of other people to get to wherever he's going this time, because really he's in no state to travel except he doesn't have a choice. After the initial nine months, the babies do seem to grow slower than before that, but they do still grow little by little, making the burden quite literally heavier to bear, and they are restless in his womb, as though they too would know it is well past their time to be born already.

But finally, after years of searching, years of torment, the boy finds out the condition, and figures out a way to fulfill it. Once that is done, though, there's still the incredibly long and painful process of labor and giving birth to the babies, now much larger than his body ever was designed to give birth to...

I loooove perpetual pregnancies like this!!! It could even be similar to the Greek story abt Leto, so he’s in labor as he tries to figure out how to break his curse. Imagine him having to suffer through contractions, feeling his baby’s head sooo painfully low in his hips as he tries to push but the curse prevents it from coming out all while he’s in search of a way to give birth.

After years and years of searching, his babies become massive. Even with the slowed growth, they’d be the size of 2-3 year olds by the time he finally manages to fill the conditions to progress his labor. Maybe as he’s finally giving birth to his first baby, the god that cursed him decides to come down, just to torment him one last time before his punishment is over. There’s nothing the boy can do to get way from the god, belly pinning him to the ground with the weight of his writhing babies, unable to escape the wrathful god. Each time his baby comes to a crown, the god pushes it back in, making his scream is sob in agony, begging to be let go as it makes his tummy twist and writhe. He tries to kick and push the god away, but he’s too weak after carrying such a burden with him for so many years, completely helpless in the hands of his tormentor.

It goes on for days, weeks even, the god switching between pushing his babies back into his belly, then and painfully squeezing the swell to watch him thrash. Once they’re sure he’s learned his lesson, they let the last baby slip out between his trembling legs, leaving him exhausted, alone, surrounded by half a dozen massive babies as he’s finally allowed to pass out

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?

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

imagine you're in a breeding program and your only job is to get pregnant and give birth. you've been here nearly ten months and you're due soon but the client gets tired of waiting and just straps you down onto the bed. you cry and sob uselessly as they shove a camera probe into your pussy because they don't believe in ultrasounds. you beg them to stop but they thrust against your cervix over and over battering it black and blue trying to ram the probe into your womb with force alone. Finally they drive the probe up your birth canal and plunge it into the depths of your womb. as soon as they see the baby, they yank the probe out of you even as it catches on your cervix once more threatening to turn your womb out. They take a long thick needle and shove that up your cunt too and you can't help but clench your pussy around the doctors wrist. The needle tears your baby's amniotic sac open and sends fluid gushing out of you like a fountain. Your wailing falls on deaf ears. the doctor wrenches their hand out of your greedy cunt and pats the base of your belly. they tell you your cunt will be full soon. they mean full and heavy with the baby that gets stuck while you try birth it, the baby resting in safety sheathed in your bulging pussy while the doctors try to yank it out of your unwilling cunt. Because the doctors don't bother to wait for your labour to begin. they don't care. all you are is a broodmare, your body's preparation is immaterial. Once again you are having something shoved into your cunt. you try to resist but your thrashing is pointless, you are so thoroughly restrained, you can just barely breathe, only your arms are free to stroke and clutch at your belly. your full belly that once domed upwards has shrunk slightly after ejecting the cushioning fluid from your womb. the dinner plate they shoved up your cunt now sits between your hips cupping your bowed out cervix. the support would be welcome if it didn't mean having something lodged in your pelvis. Then the dinner plate whirs to life and you are screaming at the top of your lungs clutching your pregnant belly as the dinner plate reveals itself to be a suction plate ready to wrench your babies right out of your womb and yank them from the safety of your cunt kicking and screaming. and oh there is so much kicking and screaming. you aren't allowed the luxury of having your babies slip through your cervix or slide through your canal to be welcomed into the world, no, they are sucked and pulled out of you using an industry grade vacuum. because you're not a mother, no, you're a birthing machine, you are here to give birth over and over and over again until you can't anymore.

kofi

Fine

words: 275

content: birth denial, fpreg

“I’m fine,” she said to her family as she waddled down the stairs, swollen belly dropped so low it could be seen poking out of her oversized sleeping shirt. There was no hiding how winded she was, breathing heavily, face flushed.

When her belly seized up during breakfast, not for the first time, she winced and dropped her cereal spoon. The surface, taut, hot the the touch like a fever. Packed, brimming with babies.

“I’m fine,” she said, picking up her spoon.

She took a shower, hoping to soothe her aching back and contracting belly with warm jets of water, and instead she found herself doubled over, belly between her widespread knees, weighed by a deep, undeniable pressure. When she heard a concerned knock on the door, she managed a strained grunt:

“I’m fine.”

After she’d endured contractions throughout the entire day, the urge to push washing over her, belly reflexively clenching harder and harder, demanding she give in, she found herself sitting, legs open, in the recliner during family movie night. A blanket covered her lower half, hiding her misshapen belly, tight like a fist, and her soaked pink Hello Kitty pajama bottoms, beginning to bulge wetly outwards with a head. She was crowning. She had to push.

She bore down suddenly, letting loose a guttural groan that startled the entire family and set the dog barking excitedly. She pushed again, fluids spurting around the head, the deep, heavy weight moving down through her pussy. Her pajama bottoms strained. She stretched and then popped around the huge head.

She looked up, moaning, head lolling. Her family stared at her, open-mouthed.

“I’m fine,” she panted.

Big belly birthing

I’m realizing this is a real fun trope for my brain. Hidden belly when laying on back, everything pushing to the front when sitting up…..