Internal Cephalic Version Has Always Been A Favorite Of Mine As Well As Natural Perineal Tears.

Rescued

(Content Warning: Enslavement, Sexual Assault, Unwilling pregnancy and birth, Vaginal Tearing, Traumatic Births)

One perfectly placed swipe laid three of her foes low, but the fourth knocked the blade from her hand.

As her weapon flashed in the air before disappearing into the chaos of battle, Lia let her gaze fall across the warzone. The small village she once called home. Buildings burned, her people screamed. Reinforcements were on their way, the elvish warrior was certain, but not fast enough. No, not nearly fast enough. They would come, see the carnage, retaliate against the orkish camp, rescue a handful of prisoners, and declare it a victory for their people against the forces of darkness.

Lia knew better. The orks would leave the disposable town folk in the camp, to be raided and reclaimed. But it would be a pyrrhic victory for her brethren, as the most valuable captives, strong of body or mind, or simply especially attractive, would be moved out the very day they were captured. Caged and transported to the beast’s main camp, where they would be sold as slaves.

A strong blow came from behind, driving the elvish girl to her knees. Tears burned behind her eyes, half in pain and half from imagining her fate. She was only 30, barely more than an adolescent in the life of an elf. This couldn’t be happening, it wasn’t possible. She’d come from a powerful family, had been training to join the scouts, everyone told her a long and prestigious career was before her. It couldn’t end here, in some random ork raid, overwhelmed through sheer force of numbers.

Raising her gaze, Lia snarled at the proud-looking beast towering over her, and prepared to lunge at him, hoping to take down just one more opponent, maybe create an opening to regain her footing, snatch a weapon-

Another powerful blow, this one making the entire village spin around her. The graceful fighter crumpled to the ground, darkness consuming everything.

)----------

An unknown amount of time passed. The fine armor that was a gift from her mother upon being accepted into the scouts was gone, replaced with a rag that barely covered her dignity. The clops of hooves and constant jostling, in addition to the other passengers told her she could only be trapped in the back of an orkish slave wagon.

Lia had been chosen to be one of the high value captives. It dawned on her that she would likely never see another friendly face for the rest of her life. Curling into herself, the devastated girl prayed that death would claim her quickly, before the monsters could make her beg for it.

==)--------

Standing at auction was deeply humiliating. Being shown off like a common beast of burden, or some form of trinket or object. The actuneer gestured at Lia’s somewhat generous chest and lithe figure, tugging at her autumn leaf red hair. The rapid grunting, squealing, snarling sounds utterly unintelligible to the young elf, but clearly exciting to his kin, as beastial sounds of excitement met every proclimation, green-skinned hands flying into the air one after another as the former warrior looked on in despair, wondering which of these monsters would win her.

A louder bark came from the crowd. An ork carrying a staff adorned with various skulls stood near the back. As he walked forward, the others made way for him, an aura of command, and even possibly reverence, if these bloodthirsty creatures were capable of honoring anything or anyone, seemed to emanate from him. Everything had gone quiet, and a quiet grunt came from the monster. Without a word, what seemed to be a command was immediately followed, much to Lia’s displeasure, as the thin rags were roughly torn from her body, leaving her shivering and completely exposed from head to toe.

Hungry gazes devoured her involuntary nudity, taking in every secret curve and delicate part completely unhindered. The captive’s cheeks burned with humiliation and shame, as the staff-bearing ork took in every inch of the slave girl’s feminine form, searching for something beyond the elf’s understanding.

Apparently he found it. With a fanged grin and a nod, a loud, dominant bark rang out, and a large bag of some form of currency was tossed onto the stage. The auctioneer’s eyes went wide, and her scooped up the money quickly, gesturing for the winner to come claim his prize.

A large hand gripped the elf girl and hoisted her roughly onto his shoulder. Lia did nothing, letting herself be carried. Even if she somehow squirmed free, she’d be re-captured in seconds, and likely face horrible punishment for her disobedience. Regardless, shame and self-loathing filled the poor girl’s mind as she let herself be taken to her master’s house without a fight.

It bothered her, how easy it was to give in. Lia prayed to whatever gods may still be watching her plight that it not become a habit.

(====)------

It was on the very outskirts of the main camp, in a surprisingly large structure, abnormally permanent for what is normally a nomadic race. True, it was in the name of making war as far and as often as possible, but still. It almost seemed as though, if there was a permanent ork capital city of sorts, this could be the closest thing to it.

Lia spent the next few weeks drifting through her days. Surprisingly, she was not put through any torture or hard physical labor, or anything even more horrid, gods forbid. Instead, she was placed in a cage in what seemed to be the stables, wolves growling at her whenever she moved too much, where she was fed and watered, until her owner came to retrieve her.

What happened there was the most surprising. He had a long, straight-edged stick, notched at regular intervals. At first the former scout thought it was some form of weapon, but was surprised to find it being held against her limbs or placed alongside her chest, where the hideous ork would look intently at the notches, turn around and scribble something on what looked to be parchment, and then repeated the process elsewhere. Almost as though taking measurements. But surely none of these monsters would be intelligent and thoughtful enough to do such things, let alone have enough mastery of writing as to be able to take notes?

Finally, after weeks of study and notes and that awful cage, the ork took her somewhere different. <Is this where the torture begins?> Lia asked herself, dreading what would wait her as they began to travel down a stairwell, the lithe elf’s legs and wrists bound with heavy chains as she was pulled along behind her owner.

The prisoner’s eyes adjusted to the light, and what met her gaze was… confusing. It was like the attempt of someone to make their guests comfortable who had never been comfortable a single time in their life. There was a fireplace along one wall, the room was cozy, there were animal skins draped across the floor. There were two surprisingly padded chairs for ork sensibilities, but Lia knew she wouldn’t be the one sitting in them, not for long, at least. No, her eyes were drawn to the two massive steel cages along the back wall of the room, one empty with an open door, and the other already holding what appeared to be a human woman, curled in on herself in the far corner.

At hearing their footsteps, the prisoner curled into herself tighter, but reacted no more than that. The elf’s owner prodded her into the center of the room, then settled in one of the seats, his gaze roaming her appreciatively, as it had so often before.

Then, to the former ranger’s shock, the green-skinned beast opened its fanged mouth and… began to speak elvish. Somewhat broken and halting, but perfectly understandable.

“You, very pretty elf girl. Very brave and strong. Me save from arena or mines. Life will be much easier here. You are welcome.” A grin that could only be described as “smug” slid across Lia’s owner’s face, amused by the expression of shock on her face. The desire or ability to learn other languages should be entirely foreign to this monster, let alone the concept of gratitude. Yet here he was, demanding thanks for purchasing her.

Swallowing her pride in the name of keeping this thing that had so much power over her calm, she managed a hushed “Thank you.”

A nod and a pleased grunt followed. “This place, new home. You safe here, nobody else come in unless me say. Even have friend. You both very important to me. You strong fighters, brave women. Like Orks!”

Delight filled the surprising creature’s gaze as he continued; “Me have to tell truth. Orks strong, but… not most strong, me think. Orks could be very, very strong, but we must do something new. Me think maybe, if ork could learn from other races… grow from others, gain their strength. Maybe then we be most best. Think you very good for making us better.”

Lia was confused. Did this monster want her to teach him or people’s secrets? Show them magic or warfare or tactics? She would die before exposing that information. To even consider the idea showed how foolish this…

Something drew the young elf’s attention. As her owner’s gaze once more roamed her nude form, his loincloth had begun to tent outwards. The disgusting beast was becoming aroused, how crude. Lia opened her mouth to snarl a bitter reply to the Ork, only to gasp as he yanked on the rug she was standing on with his foot, knocking her feet from under her.

Lia tried to rise, but her owner was faster than he looked, and before she knew it she was pinned on the ground, his green-skinned body holding her legs wide open, and the bulge hiding his member concerningly close to her virgin opening. “Me do you big help.” the muscular ork grinned. “Now you help me.”

Lia tried to break her captor’s grip as he drew closer to her delicate lips. “You be test, see if ork and elf make good, strong child. You help me grow orks, help me make them fast, like elf, inside your belly.”

Finally, it clicked. He didn’t want information. He wanted to use her to breed. He wanted a bunch of elf and ork half-breeds, hoping they would have all the strengths and none of the weaknesses. This… this BEAST wanted to violate her, fill her womb with his seed, and create life. To make her into a mother.

“N-no, no you can’t I don’t… I’m not ready, I’m too young for this, please, no, NOOO!” All the denials, all the screaming meant nothing. The loincloth was pulled aside, the thick, twitching manhood exposed, before being driven to the hilt into the elf girl’s nether regions in one brutal thrust.

Lia cried out in a mix of pain and despair. This wasn’t how she wanted to lose her virginity. She didn’t want to be pregnant, didn’t want to become a mother, but try as she might, escape was quite impossible. She was helpless to do anything but let it happen.

Then, before she knew it, it was over. A thick, sticky heat splattered against the entrance to the elf girl’s womb, and her rapist withdrew with a deep sigh of satisfaction. “Good. Me think you body ready to grow baby. Me plant seed, now we wait to see if it take root.” He rose, and lifted the sobbing former warrior from the ground, carrying her to the open cage. “You stay in here, be safe, focus on become mother. You make good mate, give many young. Rest for now, will return.”

The door to the cage swung shut with a loud clang, but the traumatized victim barely reacted. Her thoughts swam, one hand unconsciously cradling her flat belly, wondering if what her owner said was true, if she really was fertile, if there was any chance that a child could… that he had just…

It made far more sense now, why the human woman lay curled in a ball. They weren't going to be hurt, wouldn’t be worked to death or made to fight and kill to survive. Instead they would be used for this monster’s pleasure, over and over, until they concieved, made to gestate their rapist’s child against their will.

The worst part, as Lia sobbed herself to sleep that night, was that she honestly had no idea if it was possible or not. For all she knew, she was already pregnant.

==(====)----

It was silent for the next few days. Lia moved only when food arrived, eating without even tasting the surprisingly good sustenance. She couldn’t escape unless she was healthy, and even in her traumatized state she was gathering information and taking in details.

Then, at last, her roommate spoke. “It’s pointless.” The elf turned, seeing the human leaning against the back wall, looking directly at her. “I tried. Trust me. He seems stupid, but he’s not. And he’s very strong. He can and will defeat you. Especially since you’re pregnant, so you’re not fighting at your best.”

Lia opened her mouth to argue, but the human raised a hand, cutting her off. “No. It’s better to accept it now. He… He knows what he’s talking about.” the woman shifted position, and her swollen midriff became clearly visible. She was with child. “I denied it for months, but… I mean, I hadn’t had sex before I was captured. No way its not his. And it only took one try. If he chose to have sex with you, it’s because he knew it would take. His half-breed bastard is growing inside you right now, and there’s nothing we can do about it. I wish there was.”

She introduced herself properly. Star was her name, and she had been a princess to a small kingdom. Tragically, the ork horde had overwhelmed their defences, and she’d been captured, enslaved, and… well. Impregnated. It had been almost 5 months, and already the former royalty had a pronounced swell to her otherwise still slim frame.

While hesitant to talk too much at first, it wasn’t long before the two became friends. Telling each other stories of their homelands and adventures to pass time, confessing their fears and anxieties. Star awkwardly confessed that she was terrified of giving birth. Her own mother, the queen, and her mother before her, had both passed away delivering children, and such stories were not exactly rare. That was in the BEST of circumstances as well, not locked in a cage, slaves to some crazed ork lord.

Listening to how painful and dangerous childbirth could be, Lia began to worry about her own ability to deliver, being smaller and thinner than the beautiful human woman. And the slave girl was, indeed, going to give birth. The days crawled by, but as she neared the end of the third month of captivity, a small, warm, unyielding bump had appeared just above the young elf’s pubic area.

At first she denied it, tried to tell herself that it was just due to the lack of physical activity, but at time passed the bump grew, until it was impossible to ignore. The ork’s offspring was growing within her belly, and nothing she did could change that.

Seeing the effects the pregnancy had on her friend made it all worse. Star’s midsection swelled by the day, and the former princess often talked of how much pressure there was, her skin stretched and sore with little to distract her from the powerful movements of her unwanted offspring. The both would watch as the half breed kicked, the skin bulging and the powerful human wincing or biting her lip awkwardly at the sensation.

“I despise the little monster…” she confessed one day, as the pair noted that her navel had been pushed outwards, an extra little nub on top of an already pronounced swell. “Changing my body, making it harder to move. My emotions keep getting all crazy and everything aches. He forced me to do this, I never had a say. Never given the choice of wanting to be a mother or not. But I’m the one who has to live with it, I’m the one who has to deal with an abomination kicking its way to life inside me.

“I’d get rid of it in a second if I could.” Star continued. “Snap its neck with my bare hands if I had to. There creatures have stolen so much from me, my body, my kingdom, my virginity… How could I possibly feel anything but hate toward it?”

As her own pregnancy progressed, Lia had to ask herself many of those same questions. It was… strange, feeling something move inside, within her but not of her. Watching her body change, shift in shape and outline. Knowing that a babe was developing, becoming stronger and more fully formed by the day, nay, rather with every passing moment.

Yet… it was still just a child. The former ranger may despise the one who placed it within her body, yes. My be terrified of the inevitable, the moment where she went into labor. But… she could no more blame the product of the deed any more than she could blame her own body for doing what it was created by nature to do. And part of the young elf wondered at the beauty of this experience, watching her chest grow and nipples darken as she began to produce milk, the round, firm mark of her fertility that would be revered if not worshiped were she in her home village.

Perhaps it was partly the difference of views on pregnancy in their cultures. Elves rarely bred, and so creating life was considered sacred, and almost never happened by accident. The entire community would pull together to protect and help raise a child, as often a single new life a year was considered an explosion of fertility.

Humans, or at least so Star claimed, would often shun or ostracise women who conceived children, accidental pregnancies happening almost more often than intended ones. Humans seemed to almost regard fertility as a mark of shame, as if nothing more than the result, or even even the natural punishment for giving in to some crude urge or animal instinct, which seemed… unfair to the elf girl. She’d always been taught that to create life was what made females special, different from males, and that it was a beautiful and unique gift.

There was no denying that dealing with a pregnancy she wasn’t a consenting party to strained that beauty though, especially since the child she was carrying would certainly get her cast out from her village. A half-ork offspring would be viewed as nothing less than an unholy abomination. And even that’s ignoring how difficult the delivery of such a massive child could prove to be, especially with her body still developing…

Difficulty that soon became apparent the morning Lia woke to the sound of Star moaning in pain, holding her massive swell as it visibly shrank under her hands. Before the concerned elf could even ask what was happening, the full-term human woman whimpered “Gods… I th-think it’s time.. So much pressure, the head pushing down, I can’t stand it, I’m gonna… gonna… OH!”

There was a quiet pop, and the elf slave covered her mouth with her hands, scooting backwards away from the musky-smelling fluid pouring from between her friend’s swollen, fertile slit. After mere seconds, the entire room reeked of sex. Not just that, but something… more. Something even more primal and natural than that, something frightening yet empowering at the same time.

As painful contractions gripped the poor mother-to-be harder and more often as time passed, their owner entered the room,breathing deep and immediately becoming aroused by the smell. “Yes, this scent… You will birth. You were princess, makes my offspring heir to your throne. Push princess. Birth my little half-ork prince.”

With that, he sat in one of the chairs and watched, eagerly, slowly fondling himself as Star began to whimper in humiliation and pain. “It hurts, Lia it hurts I can f-feel it, it’s opening me deep inside, it wants to come out!!!” Tears ran down the frightened victim’s face as her owner laughed. “Yes, it does. Big, strong baby, ready to live. Give in. Push, birth for me pretty human!”

Star shook her head, tried to resist. One contraction came and went as she trembled at the pressure and sensation of labor. Then another, making her arch her back at the pain. “It hurts, it hurts but I don’t want this baby to come out, I hate it, I hate you so MUUCH BAAABYYY OH GODS HELP MEEE!!!” the third contraction was too much, too overwhelming to be denied or ignored even a moment longer.

The royal slave girl at last bore down, her face turning red. “Pushing I’m PUSHING I can feel the baby, it’s- haaa, haaaa oh gods, oh GODS IT’S OPENING MEEE! The head is opening me deep inside please make it stop, make it stop I don’t want TO BE A MOMMYYY!!!” The squeezing, cramping pains came and went, and the progress of the head was visible as the space between the agonized mother-to-be’s life-filled swell and her feminine opening began to bulge.

But that was nothing compared to the shifting of the outline of the laboring woman’s dripping, twitching sex. As the head descended, Star’s womanhood began to push out, straining to contain the soon-to-be-born half-ork. “There’s so much pressure, I don’t want to birth I don’t want this monster to come out! Please, I c-can’t, I… I… Nggghhh… I need to push, I HAVE TO PUSH I DON’T WANT TO PUSH PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME GIVE BIIIRTH!!! It’s gonna CROWN IT’S OPENING ME IT BUURNS!!!”

Their owner moaned as he braced himself against his chair, his shaft throbbing and twitching in his hand as he watched his royal slave deliver his rape baby. “Good, good little one, hurt your mother, make her struggle, make her bleed, break her skin and ruin her body, show how strong you are, even as a baby…”

The words of her captor only distressed Star even more, as the massive head continued to inch forward, the poor former princess curling her toes and arching her back as she cried out in agony. “The head is so big, it’s too big, it’s TOO MUCH I CAN’T DO THIS! I c-can’t, it’s… t-too big, I’m gonna… I’m scared, please, Lia help, I… I’m gonna… I’M GONNA GIVE BIIIRRRTHHH!!!”

The elf girl only backed further against the wall, cradling her fertile swell without thinking as she watched green skin become visible between her friend’s legs. Her slit bulged into a teardrop shape, and then grew into a full, round opening, straining to fit around the head. The base of Star’s sex was beginning to redden, and then turned pale as she continued to scream and push with all her might.

Then, with a wild-eyed shreik, the skin split, and blood began to run from the fresh tear. It made enough room for mere seconds, before the massive head continued to rip the jagged wound wider and wider. Seeing the blood, the ork let out a gasp, and then tensed, trembling, as his seed erupted from the tip of his manhood. “Yes! Rip her, bathe in her blood like the warrior you are, tear her pathetic human cunt apart as you are born!”

“I’m tearing, LIA I’M TEARING MAKE IT STOP, IT HURTS, IT’S HURTING ME BUT I STILL HAVE TO PUUUSSSHHH!!!” and push the wounded mother-to-be did, the wound growing in front of the terrified elf’s eyes, nearing the puckered opening of the poor woman’s rectum as she split apart, blood beginning to form a small puddle under her.

Then, with a spasm of pain and a cry of relief, the head of her rape baby gushed from between her legs with a splash of fluids. “No more, no more, please, please gods just let it be over…”

Lia couldn’t handle it anymore. Between her friends horrible looking wound, the taunting of her own offspring’s father, and her own condition, the utterly overwhelmed elf’s head spun. She collapsed to the floor as the half-ork rotated between Star’s legs, forcing horrified moans from her as she prepared to bear down once more. But the former ranger would not see the end of her friend’s delivery, passing out as the shoulders worsened the vaginal tear as they pressed forward…

====(====)--

By the time Lia woke, both Star and her child were missing, and would remain so for some time. For all she knew, her friend had passed away during childbirth, exactly as she had been so scared of doing. The elf slave was left staring at her swelling womb, remembering her friends tortuous delivery, wondering how she could possibly hope to survive this nightmarish ordeal.

Every day felt like it lasted a year, yet every month felt like mere seconds. It was as though the pregnancy would never end, while delivery seemed on the very horizon. Her owner came in often, just to stare at and at time caress his fertile slave’s body, enjoying its full roundness, feeling the kicks from the child he had forced her to gestate.

The signs of impending labor became more obvious by the day. Her belly having that heaviness as the weight shifted low. Her navel protruding outward. The gentile, squeezing cramps that threatened labor.

And then, one day, it was a mere threat no longer.

The head had been pressing down urgently for days, and the nagging cramps had been steadily worsening, pulling at the elf girl’s back. She had been trying to hide her labor, to deny her rapist his show. But as time went on it became more difficult.

“P-pressure… So much pressure… Star, you never said how b-badly the… haaah… f-fullness overwhelms everything… The baby… it’s ready to be b-born… Oh gods… I don’t want this, I don’t want to give birth for him…” hushed whispers to herself, some sort of voice to reassure the terrified slave, even if it didn’t do much good.

Then, the sign the poor girl was most dreading. That sudden release, the quiet pop, and the surge of strong-spelling fluid flowing from between her legs. “No… I’m not read, I can’t do this… the baby, I don’t want to have this baby, please, don’t make me, don’t MAKE ME BIRRRRTH!!!” the need to push struck immediately, overwhelmingly. Lia had never felt the need to do anything more in her entire life than she felt the need to open her legs, bear down, and deliver her child, as quickly as possible.

There was no resisting such a powerful, primal, instinctual urge. She did exactly as her body commanded, even as she struggled not to.

“Don’t want to push, don’t want to birth this baby, don’t want to don’t WANT TO PLEEESE GODS SAVE MEEE!!! The head, the head is OPENING ME IT’S MOVING INSIDE ME!” The sensations were entirely unique, unlike anything the young elf could have ever even begun to prepare herself for. “So much pressure, I’m stretching, I’m s-stretching SOOO WIIIDE!”

One more strong push, and the head was already half way down. The contractions were constant, practically overlapping, it was hard to even so much as draw breath. “I can’t, I can’t do this, I’m too young to do this, make it stop, make IT STOOOHHHPPP!!!” Her body refused to listen, and the child she had gestated did not care how much distress its arrival was causing its mother.

Before long, Lia’s feminine slit was bulging with the head resting just behind it. She was trembling, gulping in air, already exhausted and in more pain than she had imagined possible. But still her labor continued, and with the next desperate push an intense burning began to consume the helpless victim’s loins. Her opening began to part in a teardrop shape as she screamed in agony. “It burns, IT BURNS THE BABE IS BURNING ME, HELP ME PLEASE S-SOMEONE IT’S GOING TO KILL MEEE!!!”

There was nobody there, however, just the slave and her owners child. “Oh gods… I have to… have to push… I don’t want to but I have to… have… t-to… P-p-PUUUAAAHHHSHHHH!!! IT’S MOVING IT’S OPENING ME I CAN FEEL IT OPENING MEEE!!!”

The poor girl was helpless to resist the commands of her body, and was unaware how dangerous what she was doing was. Couldn’t see her skin growing tight, far too tight too quickly. But she was painfully aware of the moment it became too much for her delicate form to handle any longer.

“No, no no NO NO NO I’M RIPPING MY BODY IS RIPPING OPEN I’M STARTING TO BLEED!!!” her frantic denials didn’t change the fact that she had torn, that as she sobbed and pushed with all her might that wound would only grow as more and more green skin became visible in between her legs. Blood trickled from the damaged flesh, and ran faster as Lia cried out with pain and effort once more, her unasked for offspring continuing to part her feminine lips and the rent skin deepening, worsening rapidly.

The elf girl’s back arched as she gasped, feeling the rupture nearing her rectum, realizing that she was as injured as her friend was and still hadn’t gotten the head out. But what else was there to be done besides continue trying to get this over with? “Please, I have to, I HAVE TO BIRTH, IT HURTS I’M TEARING SO BAD, I’M TEARING WIDE OPEN IT’S RIPPING INTO MY- MY- OH GODS I’M TEARING ALL THE WAY OPEN!!!”

And as she cried out, it became true. Bit by terrible bit, as the head came to a full crown, the rip in her flesh continued down, down, until finally it began to rupture the mucous membrane of her rectum, her vagina having torn all the way down to her anus.

At long last, the head came free, accompanied by a spray of blood and amniotic fluid. The contractions lessened for a moment as the baby rotated, confusing and upsetting the helpless mother-to-be even further. Then… once more the need to push. With a cry of agony, the shoulders inched forward, bit by bit, until…

First one sprang free. Then the other. And from there, the body game sliding out of the slave girl’s bleeding and torn girlhood rapidly, a pool of blood and birthing fluids pooling beneath her.

Once more Lia’s head swam, and she reached weakly for her newborn as it cried. “M… m-my baby… I want to h-hold… m-my…” but the poor thing’s eyes fluttered closed as familiar, heavy steps entered the room.

--====(====)

Lia woke next to her friend, which with both a relief and a concern. Her entire body was sore, but she was informed later that she would make a full recovery. She was also told that she would not be allowed to see her son, not after what happened with Star. Apparently the princess had attempted to make good on her threat.

The pair would heal a few months more. And then, when the time was right, they would be re-impregnated by their owner, as they sobbed and begged for him not to put them through this hellish ordeal once more.

The pair would deliver many, many abominations for the one who owned them.

Imagine you're a warprize for an enemy clan and your put in the Kings harem of captured people. He fucks you day and night until you get heavily pregnant. When labor starts the midwives refuse to let your labor progress until the king returns from his newest war campaign. You labor for days and days, waiting for the kings return

Hmmm that’s so lovely to think about anon.

Imagine that, you are taken from your village and family only to be fucked senseless until your heavy with the kings bastard.So heavily pregnant in fact that those around you suspect you are carrying multiples; a variety in your new kingdom. The king goes on a campaign when you are 8 months pregnant which worries you as you hear rumours from the other formerly pregnant harem members that the king forces them to wait to give birth, but you naively believe this is only a malicious rumour spread to scare you. But when your water breaks at 9 months and 2 weeks pregnant you learn these rumours we’re definitely true. Midwifes put you in a room with thickly padded walls and force your legs closed as you labor at first, not even allowing you to push. Eventually however, they allow your legs to spread for easy access to clean between them, but come around every hour or so to push the ever growing massive head back into you. You try to deliver the head before they come back every time but you can never do it within an hour and you are stuck in this cycle for god knows how long, although you assume it’s been months before the king comes back. Instead of coming straight to you however, the king takes his time, visiting all his other harem members and spending a week resting before he comes to your chambers and you are mercifully allowed to finally give birth. Although now the process is near impossible, as your babies head has grown so large that your pussy is on fire for weeks as you strain against it..

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

Currently dreaming about all the sizes of crowning available to the imagination

Fuck

Ok, so loved this imagine from a long gone blog, its of birth denial with a heavily pregnant partner that has multiples but has a chastity belt to stay pregnant

I love that as well anon. Imagine that though. Becoming enormously pregnant with multiple children, maybe 4 or 5 and your partner forces you into a thick, metal chastity belt right as you begin to reach full term, just because they relish in seeing you full of there child. You go for a while past your term with no problems before you inevitably go into labor but you can’t do anything about it. The first babies head stays a a somewhat permanent burning crown, as the belt occasionally pushes it back in. You can barley do anything, belly so heavy and large that it nearly grazes the floor, and you are in constant pain from nearly back to back contractions. You beg your partner to unlock the belt, but they say no, saying they adore seeing you so perfect and pregnant just for them. Eventually though they do unlock the chastity belt and allow you to birth your first baby, but right after the first the chastity belt goes right back on, your partner arguing this is a way you can both get what you want. They reason in order to keep your pregnant for as long as possible but also ensure safe births you can have one of your child per month. Of course however this just means that you have to look after your newborn while semi-crowning with your enormous second child. But the next month your partner unlocks the belt once again, allowing you; with much more struggle this time as the baby is now roughly the size of a two month old, to birth your second child before chastity belt goes right back on. This repeats with each of your children until the last baby is left, but this one is so massive it takes you days of straining and panting to deliver it.

This, but make it a drag queen or a trans girl. I see all 7+ feet of her and can’t resist getting knocked up with her massive babies 🤤😮‍💨

the tall guys are always the cute, funny, and polite ones until they breed me and i end up pregnant with their baby that’s measuring in the 99th percentile … (,,>﹏<,,)

Exam in, Baby out

Answering this ask that came through my messages from @yaiofanficbombon2022: 

"The class president is in labour (Mpreg). He had a sexual encounter with the popular boy of the school and as a result of this encounter he is pregnant.

His water breaks at home at night, he wants to miss school, but he can't, so he goes to class anyway.

The contractions are intense and constant, and the baby tries to come out, but he refuses to push until the exam is over.

He ends up giving birth in the school bathroom."

I’ve aged them up to a very high school like college because even 18 yo high school students feel too young to me. Hopefully you don’t mind.

This fic contains: mpreg, birth denial, pushing baby back in, clothing birth

“Hey, pres, you all right?” Jason asked, coming to sit next to Max. 

Max grunted, forcing a smile for the man who was rather popular with the other people at their very small church owned college they both attended, and also the father of the child that was currently trying to expel itself from Max’s womb. They’d had a secret encounter in Jason’s dorm room after a particularly intense study session—and well, they hadn’t repeated said occurrences since then, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be friendly. “Fine,” Max managed as the contraction that had been wrapping its way around his belly finally eased off. “Just worried about this exam.”

Specifically, he was worried about passing the final exam of his health class while also managing to keep the kid in him, you know, in him. Particularly since his water had broken last night, and he hadn’t gotten a whole bunch of sleep between the increasingly intense contractions. This was his last final of the semester, though, he just had to pass this test, or at least make it through it, and he was home free. So he’d hobbled his way to class from his dorms. It wouldn’t do for the student president to just not show up to an exam.

“You’re the smart one,” Jason said with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. Only it doesn’t look like you slept at all.”

“Stayed up all night studying.”

“For health?” Jason asked. “Look man, I know you’re a perfectionist and all that, but no one cares what grade you get in this class. All you gotta do is pass. It’s not worth killing yourself over.”

Max tried to formulate a nonchalant shrug. “Gotta keep that scholarshi—mmmhg.” Another contraction cut him off. He wrapped his fingers around the bottom of the desk and forced all his pain and the screaming desire to push into them instead of downward. Still the contractions were getting insistent. The force of his body pressed the baby’s head against his lips, which began to spread and sting. As soon as the contraction ended, the head slipped back inside, the stinging easing. Still, that wasn’t a good sign. The two hour exam hadn’t even started and the baby was already sitting right behind his lips. 

Jason stared. “Man, you sure you’re good?”

“I’ll survive,” Max said, trying to sound sardonic, though his breathlessness gave him away. Jason didn’t know Max was pregnant. No one did. He’d carried small, and Max was good at hiding his body in shapewear and too big hoodies. If anyone did find out, he’d definitely lose his scholarship, and probably get kicked right out of the school. It had very strict rules about sex outside of marriage, and babies don’t just happen.

Max was saved from further questions from Jason by the professor entering the room and beginning to pass out a massive pile of paper that was the final exam. “You will have one and half hours to do the question and answer portion of the exam,” the professor explained. “Then I will show a video of a live birth. As the university wants you to know how to give birth at home, with prayer and without medical intervention as God intended. You all must know how to give birth. After watching the birth video, you will be required to write a paper discussing what they did correctly and what they could have done better. Understood?”

The class nodded.

“All right then, you may begin. You have an hour and a half.”

Max reached out for the packet, grabbing his pencil and his scantron, eager to go as quickly as possible and get this over with. Two questions in, and his stomach was seizing again. Freed from Jason’s questioning gaze, Max wrapped his hand around his stomach to try and soothe it, feeling it shrink underneath the shapewear he wore. He tried not to push, focusing on breathing deeply and slowly through the pain, but the searing stretch of his nethers continued throughout the contraction nonetheless. 

According to his studies, contractions lasted about 60-90 seconds, so Max counted out the seconds in his head, one hand wrapped tight around his stomach, the other clutching his fragile wooden pencil dangerously tightly.

As soon as the contraction began to ease and the stinging stopped as the baby returned to its place just outside his lips, Max continued with the test. His contractions were coming every two minutes, lasting about a minute. Which means while the rest of his class had an hour and a half to complete the test, he only had an hour. 

The words swum in front of him and he leaned forward to get a better view of the words, curling around his stomach and triggering another contraction. Sitting forward as he was, the hard plastic chair pressed against his lips. Which gave him an idea. Experimentally, he pushed with the urge instead of trying to hold back, grunting softly as he did. The head spread him open, shooting through his stretching lips, and then stopped moving as it struck the chair. Max whined, softly, tapping out of the push early. Except this time, the head didn’t go all the way back in, it stayed at that partial crown, stretching his lips. 

Stealthily, he reached down under his desk and explored the area between his spread legs. A massive bulge of straining jeans was wedged between them, pressed up against the chair.

Max let out a shuddering breath. All right, he thought, as long as I can stay sitting down, we can keep the baby in. And thus the test stretched on, in increments of three minutes, two of answering questions, one of pushing fruitlessly into the hard plastic chair, his wet jeans bagging out with the emerging head. 

Some of the questions were about health, but a lot were about sexual health and reproduction. Labeling the different parts of the birther’s anatomy felt particularly ironic when Max could feel the stretch of so many of them, the diagram a visual reminder of how small everything had been before a baby had been shoved through it.

Another question asked which sex position was most likely to result in successful reproduction, which had him flashback to his room, with Jason leaning over him, his warm chest on Max’s. It brought a blush to his cheeks which led Max to lift his head and glance over at Jason.

Jason had been looking back, his brows wrinkled in concern, but when he caught Max looking, the face changed to a forced smile and a hidden lewd hand symbol. Maybe the test was bringing up memories for him too.

Their moment was broken by another contraction. Max forced his head down, as though he was working on his test, leaning as far forward as he could, his stomach pressing against the bottom of the desk, his crotch against the seat to keep the baby in as his whole body pushed down.

The pain was just letting up when the teacher called for their attention, and put on the birthing video. A woman moaning, crouching, her husband supporting her from behind, praying. Her stomach visibly contracted as Max’s own pain returned. Their contractions had synced up, but while she was naked and pushing freely, he was covered in clothes, unable to push or make progress. Her grunts of effort and cries of pain masked his own moans.

The voice of the camera-person ordered the woman, “Push! Push!”

And having sat at a partial crown for an hour and half, Max couldn’t help but obey, pushing in sync with the woman on screen. He leaned back instinctively, lost in the grasp of instinct. He and the woman pushed, and pushed. The babys’ heads emerged slowly, fighting to stretch out the body and, in Max’s case, force the jeans out of the way.

The woman screamed as her head reached a full crown, losing her crouch and falling backwards, caught by her husband. Max’s own softer exhalation, as his own crown, freed from the confines of the chair, reached its own crown.

The next few pushes were unfruitful. The baby’s head bobbed in the woman’s crotch as Max’s own baby fought against his tight jean crotch and lost. He wasn’t trying to hold back anymore, wasn’t thinking consciously, only knew he needed to push.

Then the head on screen gushed out, followed by the rest of the body in rapid succession, but Max’s was still stuck, no matter how he pushed and grunted. The screen went black. 

“You have twenty minutes to write your essays.”

Max panted, realizing his situation. His hand explored downward, gasping at how large the bulge was, his legs spread apart, his lips screaming in pain, stretched to their fullest, his whole body soaked in sweat.

He could not write, could not focus on writing, but he had to. So, ever so slowly he leaned forward. The head of the baby caught on the chair, then began to be shoved up inside him once more. Max shoved his pencil in his mouth, biting down hard to hold back the scream that threatened to bubble in his throat at the pure agony. 

Another, harsher contraction came, but he weathered it, biting his pencil and pressing himself down against the chair. It faded, and he tried to write. The next contraction was just as bad. His weakened pencil snapped his hand. He whimpered as the head began to emerge once more, stretching him little by little. 

It didn’t seem like he had two minutes of leeway anymore, no matter what their professor had taught. The contractions didn’t seem to end. It hurt so much. He was so sweaty, so confined. The baby was coming out again. He didn’t have the energy to push it against the chair. It was stretching his lips, so wide.

“Time!” The professor called. “Pencils down.”

Max’s pencil was in pieces before him, his essay a mess, his multiple choice portion, not quite complete. But he didn’t care. He had to give birth. He had to get out of there.

The old professor toddled around, collecting tests as Max tried to look normal after having been in active labor for fourteen hours and actively crowning for two. 

He’d had a plan, take the test, go home, give birth in his empty apartment. But as the baby reached a full crown once more, Max knew that wasn’t happening. He would at least make it to the bathroom. It was on the first floor. Max planned his route as the professor said his final goodbyes, and then, finally, finally, fifteen minutes after the test ended, released them. 

Max stayed where he was, unsure how to stand as the rest of the students burst out of the room. Another student stayed and talked to Jason, pulling his attention away from Max.

Now, Max thought. He awkwardly turned in his seat, and removed his hoodie. It revealed his very low belly, curved and sweat-soaked, but he used it to tie around his waist, hiding the massive bulge in his crotch. Then, oh so gently, he leveraged himself to his feet.

Gravity shifted, his jeans loosened a bit, and the baby dropped down just a bit further, the head stretching him wider than he thought possible. Max gasped and swayed, catching himself on his desk. Jason glanced over, clearly concerned, but his conversation partners drew him back in.

Free. Max began to waddle, slowly, awkwardly, out of the classroom. Each step was agony, his jeans jostling the fully crowned head in his pants in and out just a smidge. His exhausted legs trembled, and he kept one hand on the wall to keep himself upright. The stairs were right next to the classroom, the elevator was on the other side of the building. He could either walk the entirety twice (to reach the elevator and then walk all the way back to the bathroom at the base of the stairs), or go down the stairs. He chose the stairs.

He went down two before he realized it was an awful idea. He clung to the railing, his legs forcefully spread around the head, which brushed his thighs each time he maneuvered himself awkwardly down the stairs like a new-born deer.

Finally, red faced, panting, exhausted, he reached the bottom of the stairs and practically fell into the door of the men’s bathroom. A guy at the urinal gave him a look.

“Really gotta. . . go,”  Max panted, then stumbled into the stall and locked the door. He reached immediately for his jeans. His shaking hands fumbled with the belt. As the contraction struck, he crouched naturally, spreading his legs wider, but that only forced the jeans up tighter against his opening, forcing the head further in. 

Finally, the belt gave way, and he began forcing the jeans down. They got caught on his hips. He needed to move his legs together, but another contraction hit, and the baby descended further, its nose stretching him and popping out. The head was touching his thighs. He couldn’t spread his legs further to give it more room with his jeans, he couldn’t get rid of the jeans because of the head.

He was stuck.

Mind frozen with fear and exhaustion, he weathered out several contractions, pushing as hard as he could. But the baby didn’t move. It was stuck. The jeans had to go, but that meant. . . 

He heard speaking over the roar of his ears, but couldn’t make out the words. It was definitely Jason.

But Max could spare him no thought. The baby had to come out. Quivering, Max placed his hand on his baby’s head, feeling its wet hair. He took one deep breath, trying to get oxygen in his panic, then began to push the baby up and back it. 

It was agony. He screamed in pain. The baby kicked in protest. His stomach contracted. In the chaos, he lost his balance, falling to his knees, striking his elbow on the side of the tiny stall. 

Jason was pounding on the stall door. 

Max couldn’t talk to him, couldn’t do anything but give birth. He shucked off his jeans and boxers, spread his legs, and pushed.

The much denied baby shot out, to its ears and Max cried out again. The contraction faded, and he could hear Jason now, asking if Max was okay.

“I’ve cleared the bathroom and put a sign out saying its closed. Tell me what's going on, or I’ll call 911.”

Well, Max would need help getting out of here. And it was just as much Jason’s secret as it was his. With a shaking hand, he reached up and undid the latch, just in time for the next contraction to hit. He pushed, and the baby’s head shot out of him just as Jason flung open the door.

“Holy crap!”

Max gasped, leaning against the toilet, spreading his legs just a bit further. The dirty bathroom tile was cold. It felt good. The baby was turning inside him.

“Is that mine?” Jason asked. That health class did something for him after all.

Max could only nod. 

“Shit. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Max didn’t have the breath for explanations. “Wanted you safe,” he gasped. “If I was. . . if they did. . .”

Another contraction. He pushed, weakly. The head bobbed forward, but didn’t move. God, he was exhausted.

Jason knelt down beside Max, his health class training coming into play. “How long have you been in labor?”

“Water broke—nngghh—last night.” The head still didn’t move. He was so tired.

“Last night!”

“Head crowned. . . just. . . just before the—” Another contraction. Max pushed with the pain as hard as he could, but the head wasn’t moving.

“Shit, man.”

Another contraction. No progress. Something was catching on his narrow hips. His body wasn’t made for birthing the way a woman’s was. “I think, I think it’s stuck.”

“I got you, give me a moment.” Then Jason left, leaving Max alone, spread wide and bare, a baby head between his legs, on a dirty bathroom floor. He flopped his head back, resting it on the toilet seat. Gross, yeah, but he didn’t have the energy to care any more.

Another fruitless contraction.

Then Jason was back. He crouched down by Max. “this is going to hurt,” he warned. Then he shoved his hand into Max’s crotch alongside the baby’s neck. Max opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. He was too tired. The pain was awful, the stretch terrible. Then Jason was fumbling around in there with his whole-ass hand, pulling and tugging. Max’s hips strained. 

Another contraction began, tensing Max’s stomach which was peeking up through his shirt, which had ridden up. 

With the hand that wasn’t currently inside Max, Jason pressed down on Max’s stomach. “Push!” he ordered.

Max pushed. Jason pushed with one hand and pulled with the other. The tension, the pressure built, and built. Max was being torn apart. He was going to die. He was—

Something gave. With a gush, the crying baby shot out into Jason’s waiting hands.

The three of them sat, panting, staring at each other. “I want to raise this baby with you, if you’ll let me,” said Jason. “Only reason I haven’t been with you more is, well, I didn’t want to get us both kicked out. But I think you’re amazing and—”

Max smiled. “You’re pretty good too. Let’s do this.”

I'm not sure I would let you give birth, or at least not very easily.

I'd hold you from behind, helping you breathe through the contractions and hold off pushing for as long as possible. When you couldn't hold back any longer, I'd press my hand against the crowning head, slowing it's advance when you push and helping it slip back inside you between contractions.

While you're slowly stretching yourself out around the head, I'd edge your clit and encourage you to push just a little more for me. Only once the head was fully crowned would I let you feel that overwhelming, burning stretch for just a moment before bringing you over the edge to orgasm.

It wouldn't matter how hard you push as I hold the crowning head firmly in place while you cum. I'd whisper in your ear how you'd done such a good job stretching and cumming for me while I hold the head back and you push as you cum.

Once the contraction was over, I'd let you feel the head stretch you for a little longer before gently, ever so gently, easing the head all the way back inside. I'd feel you relax in my arms as we'd both just enjoy the moment together before you have to push again.

We can, of course, make things a little harder for you next time. There's a pair of tight leather shorts that I think would do a wonderful job of making pushing harder, or you could (try) to give birth into a pair of leggings, or a one-piece swimsuit, or even just a pair of panties.

The possibilities are endless, and we're just getting started.

I’d do everything I possibly could to stall labor for as long as possible. I’d keep my legs pressed together, a pillow under my hips to make the baby have to fight gravity, everything I could to make it all take so long, so I could feel my body slowly opening up. I’d relish each and every moment as the baby slides through my well dilated cervix, my own refusal to push dragging the process out as my body works to birth on its own while I writhe in your arms.

I’d squeal and cry out when you start to work against the progress my body makes, pressing back against the bulging head until it’s not bulging anymore. I’d tell you how full it makes me feel, how big it is, how it’s filling up my whole pelvis, how I have to push, but I don’t want to be empty, not yet. Please. 

I’d no doubt ruin my own progress countless times as you edge me, my hips squirming and head thrown back as I alternate between pushing and trying to chase my orgasm, overwhelmed with sensation. 

When I cum, I don’t even know if my scream is one of pleasure, or fear that the head will rush out of me and it’ll all be over. I’d cum again, my lips fluttering around the huge crowning skull, when I realize you’re not going to let that happen, you’re no more done than I am. 

There would no doubt be screaming when you push the head all the way back inside, but by the time your hand can lay flat where moments ago was a full crown I’d be deliriously thanking you, trembling all over, nestling myself deep in your arms and shuddering. 

I’m nowhere near ready for this to be over, and it's a wonderful relief to know you aren’t either.

You know I like them dark 😏😈

Confession time...

Please re-blog this if it is okay to anonymously confess a fantasy to you.

“Oh, Bunny, you look so very pretty for Daddy. Come hop up on my lap” I rub my hands firmly over your back, belly, and thighs. “You’re such a good boy, little Bunny. Doing such a good job holding in all our dozen squirming little babies. If I’m feeling very very kind tomorrow I’ll even let you push one out!”

Wanna wear my prettiest set of lingerie for you while I'm deeply in labor 🩷

Little lacy panties you can barely even see with my heavy belly dropped, baby buns inside low and ready to be born already. And a little bralette, mostly sheer and too small for my once flat chest that's now swollen with milk; the thin fabric tortureously rubbing over my sensitive nipples, hard and leaky.

My body's screaming at me to give in, to just bear down and push out your babies ... But I know how much you desire me like that. Plump and ripe, so full of you I can barely even think anymore. And I want to be pretty for you so bad.

So don't worry, Daddy, I'll try to hold back a little longer, hnnngh ...