Rubbing Your Small Bump, Looking Longingly Into The Mirror As You Continue The Movements, Almost In A

Crowded Street

               “Wow, you look like you’re ready to start pushing that thing out any second now!”

               The voice came from right next to me as I walked down the street, and somehow I knew that they were addressing me. I spun toward where I could swear it had come from, but found only the sea of faces that was the busy street on a weekend. I tried to find someone looking too smug, someone suspicious, but everything was just a press of color and noise.

               I shook my head, trying to dismiss the throwaway words that shouldn’t have been bothering me to this degree. I passed by a store window, and took a moment to examine myself. Nope, no pregnant belly here, just like it was this morning. Just a five-foot-five seventeen-year-old girl, a few months into my senior year, my midsection largely flat, though with just a bit of softness to it.

               I took a moment to appreciate my appearance, as I’d been feeling especially attractive since I got out of the shower this morning. My B cups breasts were especially perky, my skin a pleasant, warm shade of brown, my black hair still short as we entered fall. I was wearing a cute t shirt, skinny jeans, and a nice pair of shoes. All said I wasn’t exactly sexy, but I felt pretty darn cute. I didn’t normally pride myself of my appearance, but… today had felt special.

               Still… that quick phrase still wouldn’t leave my mind. I didn’t know why someone would say that, they must have just been trying to be jerks. I continued walking down the street, looking through windows and just enjoying the sounds of the bustling crowd around me.

               I just couldn’t shake this strange feeling, however, no matter how much I tried to distract myself. An odd tension deep inside at the core of my being, like something was being pulled at or stretched. As I kept up my wandering it steadily got stronger, until I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I walked into a store and found a quiet corner, then lifted my shirt, trying to make sure everything was ok.

               The dark skin of my formerly flat belly was protruding, just a teeny bit. It was barely noticeable, and I wasn’t sure if I wasn’t just letting my mind play tricks on me with how anxious I felt. Then, I gasped as a strange cramp tightened its grip on me. I actually could see my muscles tighten, my form pulling in on itself, toward my center.

               “Wh-what the hell was that?” I whispered to myself, after the squeezing pain faded. “It was like… No, that’s impossible. I’m obviously not pregnant, I’ve never even had sex. There’s no way I’m having contractions. That would be silly. It must just be a stomach ache or something.”

               Dismissing the mounting tightness I could feel faintly starting to build once more, I smoothed out my shirt over my strongly hard-feeling midriff and left, focusing on enjoying the rest of my shopping.

               Bit by bit, things kept getting stranger, and the words from that unseen person refused to leave my mind. I kept having cramps. They weren’t very close together or particularly strong, but they growing in strength, and the time between was shrinking with each one. They were still quite some time apart, and I could mostly just tough through them, but… I really wished the spasms would stop. I tried to figure out what I’d eaten that could have made my stomach so upset.

               That, and what was causing this much bloating. Even more subtly than the annoying cramps, the tiny bump in my midriff began to swell. I kept unconsciously reaching down and fiddling with the hem of my shirt as it began to be tugged up over my growing belly. The bulge was beneath my navel, just above my pubic mound, but it seemed to be growing up just as much as out. I could feel the… what had to be gas, taking up more space, stretching and tugging at my muscles, causing me to expand more as time went on.

               My shirt was tugged up over my increasingly impossible to ignore condition. At first my dark brown skin was barely peeking out from under the pastel colored cloth, but it wasn’t long before the sliver had grown until more of the alarming bulge was showing than not.

               The cramps were getting worse and more frequent as well. I began to feel a strange pressure inside me, something pushing down relentlessly. As the spasms got stronger, so too did that feeling of something just PUSHING, unendingly, trying to… I don’t know what.

               Over the course of hours, as I tried to deny and ignore that anything was abnormal, my navel was inched to the front of my impressively swollen midsection. From there, my bellybutton was gradually pulled flat, before being forced outward by whatever was filling me.

               Worse, the cramps were getting impossible to ignore. They were getting strong enough that I had to stop moving when they clamped down, forcing myself to control my breathing, holding my rock-hard orb and inhaling through my nose, out through my mouth.

               My chest had been swelling as well. I started to feel wetness, but decided not to investigate. Whatever was happening, it was secondary to this allergic reaction. Furthermore, between my legs was… well… sensitive. I could feel my panties against my feminine lips, and as I continued waddling through the busy streets, the feeling of my underwear dragging against my damp privates was increasingly difficult to ignore.

               Finally, I was huffing in forced breaths as another powerful spasm gripped me in an iron grasp, the feeling of something big pressing hard deep within me. I was overwhelmed, scared. I didn’t want to call the hospital, scared of what they would tell me. Scared of what they would do, or make me do.

               I couldn’t, I couldn’t be a mother, I was a virgin, had never even had a boyfriend. And worse, the local school system made you drop out if you got pregnant, something about increasing the quality of parents for the next generation or something dumb like that. It always seemed to backwards and ignorant, but it seemed easy to avoid dealing with. Just don’t get knocked up. But this… it felt like…

               No. It was impossible. This didn’t just HAPPEN, not just because someone said something weird to you on the street. This was a dream, or something unrelated, this couldn’t be…

               “I’ve been watching you all day. You’ve been doing so good, you’re so beautiful.” That same voice, coming from… damnit, why couldn’t I figure out where it was coming from, it was like it was in three opposite directions! “No point in fighting or denying it anymore hon, you know what’s about to happen, what you’re about to become. I’m sure you’ll do a marvelous job raising your newborn. Now just give in and let it happen. Let your baby be born.

               “Push mommy.”

               I opened my mouth to reply, to snarl out a denial or an insult, but all I managed to do was wail in fear and pain as a contraction ripped across my life-filled belly, and a quiet pop came from inside me. Seconds later, clear fluid poured from my over-sensitive girlhood, soaking my underwear, my tight jeans, dripping down my thighs and making a strong smelling puddle beneath me.

               I slowly dropped to my knees as people walked passed, giving me strange looks as I gulped in panicked breaths, feeling my cervix being forced wider by the head of the baby that shouldn’t be there. I was probably fully dilated, I’d been in labor ever since this thing had even started to grow inside me.

               I couldn’t believe it, this was impossible, this COULDN’T have happened, not to me, not like this! But once more, a powerful cramp rippled across my aching, drum tight womb, and I felt the primal need that most women experience in their life. The need to open my legs wide and push. The need to give birth.

               It was irresistible, undeniable, but I fought it a little longer. I reached down a trembling hand, tugging at the zipper of my jeans, the snap having popped open quite some time ago without me even realizing it. Gripping the edges of the fabric, I struggled to get my pants and panties down, to clear the way for my unasked for offspring.

               I tried to breathe through the next relentless spasm, but couldn’t help pushing slightly, feeling the head sliding into my birth canal as I moaned. Down, over my thighs, to my knees, I tugged my clothes down. I had intended to fully remove them, but just as I sat back and fumbled with my shoes it all became too much. Sitting back, being forced to open my legs wide as my soaked jeans and undies slipped down my skin, feeling the breeze on my naked, swollen, overheated gender, I only managed to get my shoes off before I had to give in utterly to my feminine nature.

               My socks still on my feet, pants and panties around my ankles, my dark skin glistening with sweat and birthing fluids, I began to push with the overwhelming pain, throwing my head back and screaming at both the horrible sensations and how helpless I had been made.

               Now people were staring. They took in my teenage body with appreciative murmurs or grumbling contempt, muttering about another idiot teen who couldn’t keep her legs closed putting on another slutty show, or groaning that this was so sexy, that they‘ve never seen a black girl push out a baby before, that they couldn’t wait.

               I knew nobody would call the hospital. That’s not how things were done here. I myself had watched classmates that I’d looked down on for their ignorance, screaming in pain and fear as they gave in to their need to push out their baby, or dropped into a deep squat and started laying a clutch of eggs. Had laughed and sneered along with every else, even sometimes found parts of it a bit hotter than I wanted to admit to myself.

               Now it was me trying to pull my ankles apart, thighs quivering as I struggled to deliver for the enjoyment of a judgmental crowd, exposed and ashamed and confused at how I ended up here like this. Tears of embarrassment ran down my face as I felt the head slipping down my tunnel, gasping as I felt it starting to strain against my hymen.

               I knew that by the time Monday rolled around, everyone at school will have watched me give birth in front of the maternity clothing store in the shopping district. All my friends and enemies will have watched my own unwanted baby take my virginity as it emerged, which it was doing right now.

               I shook my head as I fought my own body, the force of my labor putting even more strain of the fragile skin, a sharp ache radiating from within me. But at last it was too much, and I had to give in, shrieking in shame and pain as my maidenhead tore around the massive head of the thing inside me.

               The next big push made good progress as I grunted, fingers curling into tight fists as I tried to get this awful ordeal done and over with, knowing that every push brought me closer to motherhood, closer to being expelled, closer to my life being ruined forever. But I couldn’t even begin to resist, not anymore. As the contraction ended, I could feel the head resting just behind my slit, the skin straining.

               I could hear the voices again, whispering that I was bulging, that the head must be huge, that this was unbelievably sexy. I reached down, cupping my gender and feeling the hot, damp, oversensitive skin. I was stretched tight, on the very cusp of opening, it would just take one more big push.

               I didn’t want to be a mommy.

               I had no choice but to become a mommy.

               I had to push.

               My toes curled within my socks, and I cried out in agony and defeat as I began to feel a fiery ache burn over my feminine lips. My gender was opening, parting in a teardrop shape, my clit within its hood resting just over the thinnest part, the head becoming visible between my legs.

               I gulped in air as people reacted to this latest development, cameras flashing and rendering every exposed inch of my dark skin perfectly illuminated for all. Another terrible contraction, another helpless push, and the teardrop began to warp out of shape. My slit was spreading into a massive, agonizing circle as the ring of fire grew, my girlhood opening wide to try and pass the head.

               I sobbed, begging people not to look, or to help, or to do anything but watch eagerly as I fought to give birth. But nobody lifted a finger, only capturing every traumatic moment of my most vulnerable and helpless moment for everyone to see, making what was already an ordeal a million times worse.

               Crying out, I bore down once more, my ankles straining against the tough fabric as I tried to open my legs even wider, the head inching forward. I was crowning, my child was going to be born weather I wanted it or not. It was inevitable, it was now impossible for me to escape motherhood. All I could do was give in and push.

               I could feel my lips straining. I was going too fast, trying to get this over with as quickly as possible, not giving myself time to stretch. But it hurt so bad, I couldn’t hold back, couldn’t just wait while more all-powerful spasms held me, trying to fight my primal instinct to birth.

               I could hear people gasping as my unasked for offspring continued forward, my gender getting tighter as more of my baby crowned. I could feel a powerful throbbing ache at the base of my girlhood, and knew what was coming. The throbbing became stabs of pain as the skin struggled to compensate as I continued bearing down relentlessly, not resting, not trying to fight it.

               And then… I screamed in fear and agony as I felt myself tear. My poor virgin gender, starting to rip as the thing I’d been forced to gestate made its way from my body. From there, another push forced the wound to grow slightly. Then I gasped in some air before making it even worse when the need to push came back.

               I had so much further to go than I thought. I was being pulled so wide, I couldn’t bear it, the tear was inching down toward my anus, some people were asking if they should get me help, but others seemed to think this was even more exciting. I was sure this was it, there was no way I could do this, no way I could survive, the head would never be out, I would just push and push and never be done, never give birth…

               And then, at long last, the agonizing pressure of my feminine slit being held beyond its limits faded. With a gush of fluid, the head slipped forward. I had gotten the head out. It was almost over, finally.

               I laid back for a bit, recovering some energy, moaning in discomfort as the body rotated within me. Then, once more, it was time.

               The shoulders were even wider. One big push, and they were straining my opening, just behind my skin. Another, and I could feel I was right on the cusp of getting this thing out of me at long last. Then… I shrieked as my wound grew one last time, the shoulders slipping from my girlhood in a hot, wet surge of motion, the rest of the child following immediately after.

               Someone called “It’s a girl!” I’m not sure if that made it better or worse. If it was a boy, then it would be some monster that would hurt another girl just like I’d been hurt. But a little girl will someday go through this same thing. It was only a matter of time before someone forced her to become a mommy too, weather she wanted it or not.

               Sobbing, I realized I couldn’t bear the thought of someone hurting my little baby girl, even if I hadn’t wanted her, been raging at how she was ruining my life only a few moments ago. My maternal instincts were kicking in with unnatural strength, probably as part of whatever terrible magic had forced me to endure this in the first place. I tried to resist, but at last, I reached down, picking up my baby.

               She was… she was beautiful. I could tell she looked just like me. My eyes traced the cord protruding from the tiny things bellybutton, following it down in between my legs. She came from me… she was mine…

               My baby…

               I was a mommy…

               I tugged my shirt and bra off, sitting almost entirely exposed on the sidewalk now, my pants and panties around my ankles and my socks the closest thing I had to clothing still being on. My daughter latched onto my swollen, sensitive breast immediately, and feeling the child I’d gone through so much to deliver drink from me, knowing I was feeding her, nurturing her…

               I hated what the hormones were doing to me, hated what all of this meant. The world began to spin as I heard people at last calling the ambulance. I scooted to the wall and leaned against it, holding my newborn little girl to my breast as she continued suckling, and let myself fade away. I would likely wake up in the hospital, all stitched up and surrounded by angry, judgmental people. But for now… for now, I could rest.

)———-

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forced birth

i love being a simple farmer with a coop full of henboys who lay me fresh eggs every day. bellies always big and swollen because they're full of eggs growing in different sizes, but every morning each boy lays me a couple fresh eggs to take to market. they all are a little different, but all great hens.

one henboy is my best layer. every morning he pushes out a dozen or so fresh eggs and looks flat, but he always puffs back out with a big belly by the next dawn.

one henboy is my broodiest. he hates laying his eggs and will keep them in as long as he can, holding out until his belly looks like it's going to burst, then stubbornly will lay as little as it takes to get some relief from the pressure.

one henboy lays the biggest eggs. he has such a small frame, but his eggs are bigger than everyone else's, and it takes him so long to push them out. often times i have to help by pushing on his belly while pulling the egg with my fingers, but it's slippery so sometimes i accidentally push it in instead. it's okay, he always gets them out.

all my henboys are unique and special, and i make sure to take care of all of them with the freshest food for the freshest eggs, and to help them when they need.

it's always a sad sight when one of them gets eggbound and just grows bigger and bigger, crying and complaining of how big and uncomfortable and stuck they feel. eggs on eggs just piling up in their bellies, stuffing them so full and heavy you can feel the shells through their overstretched skin. they always get scared when i have to bring out the medicine that makes their bellies contract and hurt so badly for hours and hours on end and the scary tools to pull the stuck eggs out.

but hey, that's the life of a simple farmer.

Free eggs AND I get to have a coop full of chicken boys with big swollen tummies???

Imagine one gets eggbound, maybe one of the smaller breeds who's eggs happened to grow a little bigger than usual and get stuck, but he's so scared of the unbinding treatment that he escapes the coop and hides in fear. He's had to suffer through it several times before and is so afraid to go through it again, he doesn't think about the consequences of not taking the treatment. He runs off into the nearby woods and roosts as high as his eggbound belly will let him to avoid the farmer from finding him and giving him that horrible medicine.

Several days later and he quickly realizes what horrible mistake he's made. His body doesn't stop producing eggs even if he's already full. and now there's nearly a dozen giant eggs backed up in his poor eggbound tummy. He's tried so hard to lay them, but the biggest one is blocking the rest from coming out, and it's too large for him to get out by himself.

He's so big now he can barely move under the weight of all those eggs. No matter how hard he pushes or how hard he tries to squeeze his lumpy overfilled belly, the eggs wont budge. If he doesn't go back to the coop and look for the farmers help, his tummy will keep filling with eggs, but now that he's so painfully full, the unbinding treatment will be ten times as agonizing as usual.

He's torn on what to do, but if he doesn't decide quickly, his tummy will become so full and heavy he'll be stuck out in the woods alone, and who knows what other creatures might do if they him, completely helpless beneath his big swollen belly...

Please be aware! If you are swelling unnaturally, or feel a mound under your navel, you may be affected! It's more than you think!

I think there was something wrong with that boba I got yesterday >.<

(This is my first time talking in a video pls be nice)

Hex My Ex! (13)

I Fucked up with the skin color qwq

Her smallest babies. But most painful pregnancy.

belly practise 5/5 — what’s in there?

She sat in church, smiling, listening to the pastor talk about the value of purity and the spiritual power of saving yourself for marriage. "I could never break that vow." She told herself, almost tearing up, overcome with love for God.

She didn't know about the "prank" her little brother had pulled when they all got together for the holiday. A syringe of sperm inserted between her legs while she was asleep after some pills were put in her drink. He'd just wanted to know what would happen,he'd just learned that it could cause something really special,but nobody told him what. He was careful, her hymen was still intact and everything.

Now her inbred abomination was swelling her belly round, though she told herself it was just being careless with her diet. No big deal. She had no idea she was growing a deeply sinful fruit inside her, one that no priest would ever excuse or forgive her for creating.

She would remain joyously oblivious until she laid in her bedroom in the middle of the night months later, the head of this horrific burden taking her virginity, making this profane birth even more obscene and sinful. Praying to God to take this misery and pain and fear from her, to show her mercy. But if he heard, he didn't care. And, push by push, her own cousin slid out of her. She only realized she'd been pregnant when the newborn began to cry...

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