Hm. Guy In Labor With A Big Egg Being Forced To Ride On Horseback As Prisoner. The Rough Movement Of

Request 221-4

The swell of her belly was mesmerizing.

Standing in the bedroom, watching the writhing orb of his wife’s belly, Jaime stood motionless, his hand resting on the swell of his cock. He was always hard for her—always ready and willing—and as he watched her labour progress, he grew warmer, and wilder. They had come up with this plan together—had reached a tender agreement about the birth of their first child—and as he did every time he looked at her, Jaime wondered at his luck. He wondered at her tenacity, at her willingness to do the very thing he’d dreamed of since he’d been just a teenager, and he wondered at her love for him, so strong and so fierce. She had wanted to please him—Jaime knew it, beyond everything else—and he was selfish enough to let her, to allow their plans to come to fruition and to allow her suffering for his own perverse pleasure.

Panting and sweaty, his wife lay prone, fixed to the bed as she laboured through the night. Her belly was huge—it had grown much bigger in recent weeks and he could not help but touch it, so hard and so warm. The child within was writhing—he could see the bumps of arms and legs beneath her heaving, swollen breasts, halting with each contraction when the great orb constricted, forcing his child towards the opening between her legs.

The leather briefs she wore were tight, holding her to the bed with straps that he had fastened around her hips. Her arms were tied above her head, bound tightly to the posts on the overlarge bed, and with each new pain she writhed, pulling against her restraints. Jaime had covered her eyes, too—shielding them with a black scarf so she could not see—and her legs… oh, her legs.

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Lower

His hands rested on the curve of his belly, the heavy weight of it pressing into his lower back, a constant reminder of the life growing inside him. He had been sitting there, in the cool moonlight, savoring the quiet peace that came with being so far along in a pregnancy—until he felt it.

A sharp, sudden sensation, like a deep, heavy shift, that drew his attention. His breath caught as a wave of discomfort radiated through his abdomen. His belly, once high and rounded, seemed to lower in that moment, a subtle but undeniable feeling of descent. The baby had dropped.

His eyes widened, and he instinctively placed his hands on the lower part of his belly, feeling the shift, the pressure as the baby moved lower. His stomach tightened, a rush of discomfort filling him as the weight shifted downwards. It was a strange, almost painful sensation. A deep, pulling heaviness in his pelvis as if the baby were suddenly closer to his hips.

"Oh God..." His voice was low and shaky, the words feeling strained, a mix of awe and discomfort. He could feel the baby moving, pressing downward, stretching his body in ways that weren’t as comfortable anymore. The pressure was almost too much, making his back ache, his hips feel like they were being pulled apart. It was as if the very act of the baby shifting had turned his entire body into a tight, sensitive knot.

"Ohh, you're getting deeper..." His voice was shaky, a soft, breathless laugh escaping his lips despite the discomfort. He shifted his weight slightly, trying to find some relief, but it was impossible. The pressure in his pelvis was overwhelming, as though the baby had settled in a way that left him feeling like he couldn’t catch his breath. It wasn’t painful in the way of sharp, acute pain, but it was uncomfortable in a deep, aching, almost suffocating way.

He ran his hands over the swollen curve of his belly, trying to soothe the tightness, but every time the baby moved, it only intensified the sensation. He could feel the baby pressing against his lower abdomen, the heaviness of it too much at times, making him gasp softly.

"You’re so big..." he murmured softly to the baby, his voice a mixture of awe and a little strain. "You’re so low...I can feel you."

Another shift. Another deep pressure. He winced, his hands gripping the sides of his belly as he leaned forward slightly, trying to alleviate some of the discomfort. The baby's movements, now feeling heavier, seemed to cause a sharp tug within him, pulling on his muscles, on his very core. It was almost like the weight of the child inside was too much, too overwhelming, like a gravitational pull he couldn’t escape.

His breath was quickening, the discomfort making it hard to focus. The low ache in his hips grew with each passing second, and as the baby moved again, it sent a jolt of sharp pressure down through his pelvis, his whole body trembling with the intensity of it.

Despite the discomfort, he couldn't help but feel aroused by the movements. The heaviness, the constant reminder of how hugely pregnant he truly was with his lover's baby—it was intimate, even if it wasn’t always pleasant. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could bear the pressure, but still, he loved it. He loved how full it made him feel, how complete his body had become.

"Oh wow. Oh wow. You’re so close. It's time. Oh god, you're coming now" he murmured, chaotically running his fingers over his big tight belly again, feeling the weight of the baby pushing down. "Oooo, you're almost there. Ooohhh, You have to get lower."

But the drop, the weight, the relentless pressure as the baby moved even lower—it was a sensation he couldn’t ignore. The baby was coming now. He had to start pushing. Through the discomfort, through the aching weight, he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of wonder. As much as the pressure hurt, as much as the discomfort stung, it was the price he was willing to pay to do it all over again, but next time, he wanted twins.

pretty girl forced to sit down while she's crowning and told to not complain about how much it hurts when the baby's forced back in <3

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

Pregnant with many small monsters, squirming and and making you lopsided, or one giant monster, that stretches and throws you off balance?

Multiples!!!! The squirming and multiple sources of movement are always a favorite of mine. Pregnant brood belly that's practically writhing from how much life stuffed in it. Monster multiples that are constantly moving in my packed belly and making my stomach look like it's own separate being 🤤

Birth fetish blog only

18+

Okay okay I managed to remember I needed to prove it. And I'm not just in a state of madness or fever since I do feel warm at times. That's movement. That painful movement is real. I hope someone else believes this. It's weird tho. It feels like tendrils and four stand limbs..and small claws. What is in me.

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)

If you suddenly find yourself swelling, your midsection unyielding - especially if you feel fluttering or movement under your hands - regardless of your gender, please message me!

Poor little bird-folk who has a condition that makes their eggs grow unusually large. It means they almost always get egg bound and spend days laying a clutch when all their friends do it in an afternoon. It doesn't help that they're small and slight with narrow hips that strain against every huge egg.

As they get closer to laying their stomach swells up immensely, looking ridiculous on their small frame. Everyone else they know gets a regular, manageable bump in the weeks before they lay. Usually only restricting their movements in the last few days. But their stomach is huge and obvious and horribly sore for weeks. They spend almost a month too heavy to fly and by the last week they can barely walk. You would think that going through this every year would mean they're used to it, but every time they are caught off guard by how heavy and sore and uncomfortable their giant eggs make them. Their fragile pelvis wasn't made to carry so much weight. Their skin stretches so far that they start to lose feathers on their belly and red, angry stretch marks are visible on the exposed skin. It's miserable but they know the worst is still yet to come.

Their body is designed to lay quickly. Half a day of laboring, an hour of pushing and you've got a clutch. But with their eggs three or four times bigger than they should be that timeline is simply impossible. They dread those first contractions. Once they start they are trapped in a horrible storm as their body shoves the first egg down brutally hard and fast. The pressure in their hips increases ten fold. They squawk and cry, paralyzed by the intensity and trying desperately to find a position that will ease some of the pressure.

It's not long before the tip of the first egg begins to press down through their cloaca. This is when the real trouble starts. They are gripped with the urge to push. The first push begins to stretch their hole, the heavy egg bulging out the skin between their legs, the very tip visible just inside. But there is not enough space. Two, maybe three pushes should be enough for a regular egg. But their egg is so, so big. It gets stuck almost immediately. A few desperate pushes might bring it down just a bit more, enough than the stretch of their cloaca really starts to sting. But then it lodges itself and won't budge no matter how much they push.

No matter how many times they're forced to do this they are always gripped with horrible panic when they realize the egg won't move. The pain of contractions, the spasming of their stretched hole, the mind numbing pressure, all make it impossible to think. They'll thrash and scream, crying that it's stuck! It's stuck! Oh god please, it won't come! By now they know to have a healer on hand. But during their first lay they cried alone for hours, sure they were going to die.

There isn't actually much the healer can do. The bird-folk must now go through a horrible process of slow stretching. The healer takes some oil and rubs it around the rim of their hole, gently stretching the already taught skin, trying to work them open. They moan as their tortured hole is stretched. The burn is constant and terrible and they feel like they could rip open at any second. The healer stretches them and then they are forced to stand on shaking legs and hobble back and forth, bowlegged around their crowning egg. They shift their hips as best they can, trying to work the egg down. They are still beset by contractions and every few the urge to push becomes too great and they have to squat down and push. On every fourth or fifth push the egg will inch out the slightest bit more.

The progress is glacial and agonizing. They are trapped in a desperate cycle. Once they collapse from exhaustion the healer applies more oil, wedging their finger in alongside the egg and making them stretch. Then after a fruitless push or two they are dragged back to their feet. They rock and sway and squat intermittently, pushing and crying, until their legs give out once again and they slump to the ground in an exhausted heap. Then the healer approaches with more oil.

This goes on for hour after miserable hour. Slowly the egg crowns out of their tortured cloaca. The liberal application of oil and constant stretching protects them from tearing but the burn is indescribable. They are stretched so tight around something much bigger than it should be. At a certain point they go numb, their nerves unable to keep up with the stretch.

It's usually at that point that they break down completely, going limp and weeping, saying the egg will never come out, just leave them, they're too tired to push anymore. Every time they're sure this is it, it's over. They just want the pressure and the pain to end but their will is completely broken. The healer lets them cry and writhe through several contractions then hauls them up on their hands and knees, forces some water down their throat, and tells them to get pushing. It's hard but they've done it every year and this won't be the year they die on the healer's watch. Still crying and hiccuping miserably they bear down and push again.

By the next day they are usually close to the widest part of the egg. The end is in sight but still so far away. The cycles of oil, stretching, and pushing have gotten shorter and shorter. They are no longer able to stand, the egg forcing their legs too wide. It looks obscene sticking out of their hole, taking up the entire space between their legs. They alternate between squatting and rocking back and forth on their hands and knees. By now they are in a kind of trance-like state. Their world shrunk down to just the giant egg holding them brutally open. They emit a constant quiet lowing, their broken voice peaking in distress with every push.

Finally after one push they feel it, on instinct they know that one more push will get them past the widest point. They suck in a breath and push with every desperate ounce of strength left in their exhausted body. The egg moves. The pressure gives. In an almost orgasmic gush the egg bursts through and slides out of their spasming hole. They slump to the ground and sob in relief.

They get maybe an hour of rest. Then the pains return and their body starts working the next giant egg down to their hole. They're stretched now so this one will not take quite as long but they still have hours more of pushing ahead. And after that two more eggs lie in wait.

When all of the eggs are finally out they sleep for days, completely drained. The relief of finally being empty is always tainted by the knowledge that they will have to do it all again next year.