Pushingbabybackin - Blog Posts

You know I like them dark 😏😈

Confession time...

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

Internal Cephalic Version has always been a favorite of mine as well as natural perineal tears.

I’ve recently become more interested in childbirth and delivery. From a total medfet fantasy perspective, of course - and for an absolutely delicious plot I’m working on now which I think will be a lovely crossover of medfet and birth fetish!

Anyway, one elaboration I always found ripe for fetishistic exploitation was episiotomy and the subsequent repair. But you answered a question about this some months back where you said:

“I'm all for horrendously painful internal procedures because of how rough the stretching is or how sensitive said areas are…”

And then explained why you thought the episiotomy was a step too far. Fair enough!

But then I’m curious… what “horrendously painful internal procedures” do you have in mind? Short of the actual painful delivery, contractions, ring of fire and all that, I’m not aware of much else.

Educate me? Please?

hoo boy there's quite a list. from prenatal to delivery, of varying degrees of invasiveness and pain:

amniocentesis: done for higher-risk pregnancy. involves inserting a long needle through the belly to extract amniotic fluid and check the baby's DNA. apart from the pain of the needle itself, the uterus can sometimes cramp up violently in response. I also hear that the needle piercing the skin and piercing the uterus are two separate jabs of pain, which adds some layers and uncertainty to the procedure.

membrane sweep: used in pre or early labor before waters have broken. stick two fingers all the way up mom's vagina and through her cervix and rotate fingers along the inside of the cervix. supposedly separating the amniotic sac from the cervix with the fingers can help labor progress. pretty universally reported as already very uncomfortable but if the cervix is high and the doctor needs to really reach in, this can be extremely painful for some unlucky moms. some squirm, some scream through it.

stretching the cervix: sometimes done alongside a membrane sweep. pretty straightforward, just the doctor using their fingers to pull the cervix open a bit. can boost mom by a cm or two. but not fun at all.

ECV: external cephalic version. not internal but one of my favorites. baby is still breech right before the due date? how about turning the baby by pushing on the belly? doctor's rough hands gripping and twisting mom's sore belly until the baby starts turning, grating against her ribs, stretching her uterus sideways before hopefully dropping down into a correct position. maybe it'll take several tries. maybe it won't work. but it's rough going for all involved either way.

Foley balloon: used on a cervix that won't dilate near the due date. a balloon is jammed up into the cervix where it'll stay until the cervix dilates. I say jammed because it's deliberately thick enough that it can be held in place by a tight cervix so needs some force to go in properly. it naturally falls out after dilation. certainly not fun to get inserted, especially while contracting.

amniotomy: now getting into things that can be done late in labor, in this case usually before or early labor but can be done right up until right before pushing. breaking the waters with a long hook theoretically shouldn't hurt. but putting fingers in the vagina is always gonna be uncomfortable, let alone with a tool. sometimes the hook snags a bit of very sensitive skin. and sometimes the cervix is too high and not dilated, and the doctor really has to wiggle that hook to get through. or maybe she's already fully dilated, and the last thing she wants is fingers and a hook prodding where the pain and pressure is already unbearable.

cervical lip: sometimes a last bit of cervix stays around the baby's head and can't fully dilate because the baby is already pressing down. mom can change positions to try and wiggle it around, or maybe her cervix needs some physical encouragement. put her in stirrups and wait for a contraction. then press on the pinched, stuck cervix while asking her to push until it budges. might take a few tries, and mom's gonna have a hard time pushing effectively if it hurts too much. which it very much may.

fundal pressure: also not internal but quite intense either way. just putting an arm on mom's hard, contracting belly during delivery and pressing down hard to help her push.

assisted delivery: a vacuum or forceps that attach to a baby's head to help it crown. usually done under anesthetic but not always the case for some unlucky mothers. getting that suction cup or forceps into the already stretched, sore vagina is the first step. then you have to pull hard to get the baby out. not pleasant.

INTERNAL cephalic version: baby turned breech at the last minute? or one twin is breech after the first one is out? fully dilated and no time to change positions or rotate externally? reach the whole hand all the way up mom's vagina, and turn the baby that way. it as painful as it sounds.

that's about all that comes to mind right now. sometimes I write some of these, other times I bear in mind that a good old dilation check is often enough to make a girl scream. and there are plenty of them to milk through a labor and delivery.

what if a cam girl awarded her top subscriber with a magic pocket pussy that's a portal into her pussy? maybe she's pregnant and decides to stream her birth but the subscriber has different ideas. she just starts begging the subscriber on the live stream to take their dick out of her. they comply and take their dick out but then they replace it with their hand. she can feel the subscriber's hand inside her slobbering cunt, toying with the head sheathed in her birth canal, occasionally pushing it back and not letting her give birth. no matter how hard she pushes, the disembodied hand is always there to push the baby right back into her gaping battered pussy.

Imagine a maid has been getting used by the son of the mansion owners. When her belly begins to grow firm, the son accuses her of forcing herself on to him so she could bare his rich bastard.

From then on the maid is treated as trash. Forced to do hard labor and fed spoiled foods in hopes that such strain would lead to a loss. But that never came to pass. Her belly growing enormously and pointed out like an enlarged bullet. Just taunting the son and his family with how defiantly fertile she is.

When her labors begin, the son forces a chastity belt onto her. Refusing to let her drop his bastard during an important dinner. The maid struggles to even walk with the hard stone of the baby's head dropping into her canal. Keeping her hand steady as she poured drinks through intensifying contractions. Fighting the urge to hold her oversized bump as it drooped lower. Carrying trays of food to the table with her pussy beginning to crown against the belt. Hours and hours of trying not to push or squat down end with the dinner. The son finds her, removes the belt, and then he pushes his bastard back into her womb only to leave her a disheveled mess on the floor. The maid is left to labor a second time.

It was hours before she reached the place she was before. Barely being able to scream or breathe the big bodied baby out of her pussy out of fear she'd wake her employers. She bites her lip as the head and shoulders nearly tear her as the babe slowly slides out. For a few seconds after making sure the bastard was alive, she felt relief.

But then she feels her womb jerk a second time and her cervix open once again.

AMAZING.

I love the idea of her being a massive twinner without even knowing it. I'd like to think her labor was induced by the son fucking her deep and rough the night before. He takes her against the wall repeatedly while the weight of two large babies make her back curve dramatically as they swung with each thrust. She just starts to feel twinges in her back and lower belly when he comes hard on her cervix as her pussy squeezes his cock during a contraction. The rough handling tears her sack, causing water to leak when he pulls out but they both mistake the clear liquid for her orgasm.

The whole night is spent pacing in her quarters alone to move the child along. She knows what will happen at that party and wants the baby to come now so she won't be hauling that extra weight around the next day. Hell, they might even let her rest instead of serving people.

But the child stays put. The pressure only gets worse and worse as the hours tick by and the sensation in her hips is threatening to drive her insane come morning time. When the son finds her, it's obvious from the way she walks and cradles her belly that childbirth is near. She's in transition when the belt is locked tight around her pelvis and it's all downhill from there.

She's limping by the time the dinner starts, trying to remain stoic and unbothered while the party eats. When she is called to the table, she must answer immediately. No excuses.

A few guests asked the head of the house, the father, questions about the maid who was very obviously ready to drop and struggling with the workload. A couple were concerned for the safety of the mother and child working so hard when she was due and carrying so large. The father diminished all their concerns, and they were dropped when he told them the made up truth about her forcing herself on his son in order to have a claim to the throne.

She wanted to scream the truth at all of them, but she remembered her place. All she could do was stand still and listen to the slander while her baby dropped lower.

Hours passed and a strange new pressure grew in her hips. She could feel her bag of waters leak and bulge in her pussy, fit to burst. A contraction rears up and she loses her composure. Thinking nobody would notice, she leaned heavily with one hand on a decorative table while the other lifts the bottom of her swell.

It's here. The baby is here. She thinks. My water is gonna... OH GOD.

"Hey, bitch, who said you could use that? I need a refill!" The father shouted and all eyes were suddenly on the struggling mother.

She opened her mouth to apologize but a gasp escaped her when her water popped and gushed around the belt. Everyone listened to the the little stream that trickled out after the burst as she stood there, legs spread wide while she waited for her bag to drain.

The urge to lay down and push was torture without her waters. The baby moved past her canal as she continued to work. She wanted nothing more than to hide in a closet and vocalise her discomfort as the large child came, but she was required to be silent. The dinner was disrupted enough by her presence as a laboring woman. She knew a punishment was coming after the dinner and would rather not make it worse.

Dinner ended. The head was crowning between her legs. She almost collapsed with the need to deliver when the last guest exited the room, but the belt kept the baby from progressing past the eyebrows. A hand clutched her bulging pussy while the other gripped the table to keep her from falling over as she pushed in vain. The child was going nowhere.

The son and father of the baby stood in the doorway of the dining hall, eyes fixed on her heaving womb.

"Father wants me to punish you for interrupting his dinner."

Having to birth this gargantuan baby was punishment enough. Not to mention the humiliation of being called out and having her water audibly break in front of so many. Whatever the punishment was, she hoped it was something light for the sake of her and the child.

He slowly walked up and lifted her dress to see the emerging head of his baby. He cupped the crown and smiled at the way it filled his hand.

"My family always did make big babies." He cooed in her ear as she held her middle protectively in both hands while slightly hunched over. "I was an eleven pounder. My father was twelve and a half. You might be able to work that head out on your own but you'll be pushing on those shoulders for hours."

He pulled the key to the belt from his pocket and dangled it in front of her face. She could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

"Beg for it."

Internally, she rolled her eyes, but did as she was told.

"Please. I need to give birth. I gotta have this baby. Let me give birth to your big baby, please. I've been so desperate all day."

He nodded, pleased with her pleading. "Alright, mama. I'll take it off."

She sobbed in relief when the pressure from the belt was released and she put everything she had into the next push. But she was stopped with a hand on the baby's head, pressing against it just as the belt did.

"And now for your real punishment."

She saw stars as the head was pushed back in. With no where to go, she tried to escape the white hot pain with a death grip on the man's forearm. She began begging him in earnest to stop and let her deliver. Her hips bucked involuntarily at the unnatural sensation. He worked the baby up until his hand was engulfed by her spasming pussy before yanking it out.

"Now, clean up this mess and go back to your room. I'll collect the child in the morning. You better stay quiet down there too. Father has an important meeting tomorrow and needs all the rest he can get."

And with that, she was left alone with a violently contracting belly and a huge puddle beneath her feet. She cleaned the mess as instructed before hobbling to her room to birth. With the added exhaustion, the head was harder to pass this time around. It took two hours for her to get it to a crown and another hours for it to pop out with a gush of fluid.

And then came the shoulders. Those broad shoulders the father of the child had warned her about. She couldn't stay silent as they ripped through her. She made a makeshift gag out of a pair of socks. They muffled her screams perfectly as she was ripped open by the rest of the huge baby. By the time it passed, she was delirious and barely able to process the fact that she had just given birth.

The child was born silent, and her instincts kicked in after realising no cries came from the babe. She prayed the events of today weren't too much for the little bundle she just screamed into the world, and quickly got to work on rubbing its butt. "Come on, baby. Come on. Please."

A cough then a cry filled the room. She sobbed in relief and brought the child up to her chest with one hand while the other held the belly that still felt full. More contractions came as she nursed her first born, a son. She patiently waited for the afterbirth to pass but felt something bigger. A strong, visceral urge to push hit her like a truck and she groaned as she felt something large slam down on her pussy, forcing it to bulge once more. There was another torrent of fluid and that's when the realization hit.

She was pregnant with twins the whole time.

She pushed with what little strength she had left with the socks back in her mouth. Something felt off about this one. The pressure and pain was the same as before but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something wrong. She pushed and grunted until she felt something pop out of her pussy, but it wasn't a head.

With one violently trembling hand, she reached down and, much to her horror, felt a leg.

Tonight was going to be longer than she'd thought.

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.

I don’t know if you’re still taking requests but maybe you could write something about a maternity ward with horrible policies that actually have their nursing staff not only tell their patients to not push until the doctor arrives, but hold in and/or push the baby back in? And like, they’re terribly understaffed so their patients have to wait hours and hours for the doctor to free up.

Yup! I’m always up for requests. There’s so many possibilities with this one anon.

The doctor is not in

The maternity ward at Mercy hospital was always known for being underfunded and having low staff. The entire ward only had one doctor, and the nurses were known to ensure that patients waited for him to arrive before delivering. Pearl doubted this until she went into labor with her own child.

She arrived deep in labor, barely able to stand from the constant contracting of her stomach, however she was completely ignored by the staff. After about an hour of standing in pure agony she had enough.She tapped a nurse on the shoulder, clutching the underside of her belly. “E-excuse me, my contractions are 3 minutes apart. Can I get a room?” She begged. The nurse rolled her eyes. “We can get you a seat in about an hour, then maybe a bed.” Pearls eyes widened. “I won’t be able to make it that long, my contractions are-“ another contraction hit her and she was brought to her knees before the nurse who rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine, if you’re going to be a drama queen about it.”

Pearl was dragged to a small dingy room filled with 4 other labouring women, all screaming in full on hysterics. Pearl gulped as she saw what was happening around her. The women next to her, a young blond was drenched in sweat, a nurse holding a hand over her bulging, near purple pussy. “Ahah Stop please- just-“ The women broke into a low moan before the nurse released her hand ever so slightly, allowing Pearl to see the top of a baby’s head. The nurse merely pushed it back in, causing the mother to scream, eyes rolling to the back of her head. Pearl turned to the girl on the other side of her, who was pushing as hard as she could, clearly getting no where. “What’s going on?” She asked worriedly. The girl threw her head back, panting wildly. “Doctor- ah.. isn’t free.. hasn’t been for ngh 12 hours.” Pearl felt fear grip her, although it was once again overtaken by a intense contraction. A older nurse came in, a man in his 50s or 60s. “Alright open them up.” He instructed. “W-what?” “Your legs.” Pearl apprehensively did as told, but felt a pair of tight panties be forced onto her thighs then pulled all the way up to her hips. “What is this?” She asked, voice trembling. The man rolled her eyes. “We don’t all have time to keep the babies in until the doctors free. This’ll do the job for us.” He replied. Blood drained from Pearls face. The man reached out and rubbed Pearls massive stomach hard, feeling as it tightened with another contraction. “Don’t worry though. Probably won’t take more than a few days.”

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..

Imagine you’ve been carrying your partner’s eggs for what feels like forever, your belly is so big and heavy. When it’s finally time to lay them your parter teases you by occasionally pushing them back in as you’re try to lay them. It feels so good that eventually when he lets you lay them you cuz and multiple eggs come out at once

"Please, I can't--"

"Aw, of course you can," you purred patronizingly, relishing in my whimpers as your hand came to rest where one of the eggs was making my lips bulge out. "Besides, doesn't it feel good?"

My cheeks flushed scarlet, but instead of protesting like I wanted, what came out was a low, shaky moan. Slowly but surely, you carefully pushed the egg back up inside me, past my lips and threatening to pass back up into my cervix. The only thing stopping it was the rest of the clutch that was trying to descend, but either way you'd once again undone almost all of my progress.

I let out a frustrated sob, groaning softly as I felt another contraction coming on. This time you kept your hand over my cunt, pressing firmly as you gazed intensely at me.

"Ah, ah, ah, not yet...just a little longer, I want to see how long you can hold out for me, then I'll let you push." you chided, running a finger through my drenched folds, ready to intercept if any of the eggs started to move again.

Not having much choice I simply nodded, bracing myself and doing everything I could to resist pushing. You licked your lips, watching as I struggled, reducing me to a sweaty, whining mess.

"Oh, you poor thing, I've been too rough on you, haven't I?" Chuckling darkly you moved closer, draping yourself possessively over me. One hand splayed over my belly, the other still stroking and teasing my pussy, and when you felt the telltale tensing of my body under your hands you leaned in close, whispering directly in my ear:

"Push."

My eyes snapped open, and I acted quickly before you could take back what you said. Grasping at the sheets under me I grit my teeth, then bore down as hard as I could, almost wailing from the effort. My body seemed to act in overdrive in order to make up for all the progress you kept stealing from me, and I panted harshly as I felt myself birth several of the eggs one after the other.

hm. guy in labor with a big egg being forced to ride on horseback as prisoner. the rough movement of the horse combined with his labor pains and belly being jostled around is unbearable. and the egg being constantly rammed back into his hips whenever he makes the tiniest progress to get it out. obviously, his captors are unsympathetic.

oooohh thats soooo good. His captors watch as he struggles and writhes in his binds, begging and pleading them to let him give birth as he pushes uselessly. Each step the horse takes is agony, the constant bouncing forces the giant egg to fuck him over and over, leaving him a sobbing, writhing mess. Sometimes when his captors want to be even crueller, they bring his horse to a canter and laugh as his belly is thrown into the air and slammed down on the horses back while he screams for the horse to stop. When they tell his horse to gallop, the force of the egg being rammed back up into his bouncing belly is so painful he can't breathe, and only until he nearly blacks out from the pain do they finally bring the horse back to a walk. They have miles and miles to go before they reach their destination, and the poor boy is forced to hold in the giant egg until they arrive

You’re a demon, and it’s time for one of your human breeders to give birth. Demons are laid in eggs, which are incubated inside a host. As they incubate, the shells soften, stretching as the infant grows much larger than the original egg. Eventually the shell dissolves completely, and the baby is born live. A typical clutch has three eggs and takes eighteen months to incubate.

This human is more than a month overdue, and if you don’t do something soon his stomach will burst, killing him. He’s skinny and blond, his massive stomach lined with stretch marks and ballooning out in front of him. He can’t walk on his own, requiring two of your demon servants to hold him up in order to get anywhere.

Keep reading

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

Who doesn't?

Reblog this if you enjoy dirty private messaging with other kinky people!

I don't write much original work yet, but I have lots of plans

Please reblog if you’re still an active birth kink/fetish blog, wanting to follow more.

Birth denial is so hot as a concept. Physically being unable to give birth: legs bound together so no matter how much you push, there's no space. Tight clothes in the way, forcing the baby back inside while you grunt and cry and try to force it out. Chastity belts, that force your pussy wide open in a crown for just as long as the keyholder wants. Not allowed to give birth and trying your best to stop yourself from pushing, trying to silence the primal urges of your own body, no matter how painful it is. And of course, my favourite - having the baby pushed back inside you before you manage to get it out, all the way to your womb, making you have to experience the pain of it all over again.

This. This is what I want. I can barely keep up with RPs, but I will always reply to this.

make me crown for you. tie me up, have me crying and screaming and begging to let me give birth. don't let the baby out past crowning. push it back in, make me start over.

Never let me progress past my cunt being stretched impossibly wide around its huge head.

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.”

The King's Wrath

Got this on my other account, so here you go!

Contains: Childbirth, birth denial, monster pregnancy, sadism, pushingbabybackin, mpreg, tmpreg, about 4.6k words

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The king was livid. As Armand was escorted from the prison, he felt the head of his first child pressing against his cervix. After a long wait, it was finally time, but he wasn't excited.

His swollen belly sunk between his knees, curving his back inwards painfully. His wide load was too large to be just human children, and he knew it. He just didn't want to believe it. After a couple nights spent between his king and a dragonborn vagabond, he fell pregnant. The witch doctor had exposed his affair, and no one knew who the father of his children was.

As he was bathed in the sunlight of the throne room, he laid eyes upon his majesty. King Leon Albaine the third was no dragon born. Standing at 5 feet and two inches, the gnome had long, flowing brown hair, clever green eyes, under brows that nearly covered them in anger, and a long and full beard.

Despite his stature, Leon was a rock of a man. He could win nearly any battle…

…Except this one. 

He looked down upon Armand with dark eyes. 

“Leon I-”

“Silence.” The gnome said coldly. “Have you thought about what you’ve done?” 

Armand nodded, his eyes filling with tears.

“I doubt that. Your whoring has ruined me. My kingdom thinks that I am weak, that I allow my consorts to float about. I must show them that is not the case.” He said. 

Armand looked up at him, wondering how he would do that. He had already thrown him in prison and denounced him. What more could he do?

“Essence!”

The dreaded witch instantly appeared by his side, her silver hair floating on a non existent breeze. 

“The book, please.” He said.

With a sly smirk, she handed it to him. He took his glasses from his cape and turned the pages quickly.

“By Aryulan customs, and unfaithful consort with be punished on display in front of the kingdom. On the throne, she will birth her children, chained to the crest of the Albaine crown.” 

Armand’s eyes dropped open. He looked up at Leon in complete shock. “What?”

Leon closed the book. “It is a tradition held by my bloodline since my great, great grandmother Leonna and her “wife”. It is as it says.”

He turned and pointed to the large crest on the wall above his throne. It gleamed with the pride of generations. 

“When your water breaks, you will sit on this throne and birth your bastards. My subjects will watch and cheer at your pain as you did mine.” He continued.

“Leon-”

“Spit my name from your mouth. The privilege to call me that expired after you broke my heart!” He shouted.

Armand sniffed. “But your majesty. What will this solve? You said that you loved me. How could you hurt someone that you love?”

The gnome king squinted and turned his back on him. “I could ask you the same question.” He replied. 

~~~

Armand sat up in his cell panting through contractions. He hoped that if he didn't do anything, his water wouldn't break. Maybe then, Leon would have time to get over this tantrum; and he could give birth normally.

But he was exhausted, two days in and he felt as if his baby would burst out of him like a rocket. Why couldn't he have felt like this the month before? Before Leon knew that he had cheated. 

It was all Essence’s fault. That damn witch. She ruined everything. If it weren't for her gossiping tongue, he wouldn't be in this situation. His heart raced in anger, just from the thought of her and her smug face. 

Why did she have to-

His thought was suddenly interrupted by a cramp that drew his huge belly in. He gasped in surprise and pain. His baby's head slammed into his cervix, bringing tears to his eyes.

“Oh Gods!” He whispered.

The one time that he needed this baby to stay in, it wanted to come out. Kids never listen!

Slowly, he scooted up the wall, recovering from his contraction. As he did, he felt something burst, and all of a sudden, he was soaked. 

“Curses!” He whispered

He didn't have much time left. He knew that the guards stood in the hallway, periodically checking on him and his stubborn womb. If he was going to do this, he had to make it as quick and quiet as possible. 

His robes were heavy and full, surely they could conceal him. Feeling another cramp begin, he scooted back and leaned against the wall to support his back. If he spread his legs it would be too obvious that something was going on, so he sat in a butterfly position. 

His belly hung low between his legs, just barely touching the ground that he sat on. Quickly, he swiveled his head and listened for the guards. He didn't see or hear any, so they were probably just outside.

He took the hem of his robe, stepped on one side and pulled as hard as he could, ripping it. He stuck the makeshift rag in his mouth, hoping to muffle any sounds that came from his pain. 

He already felt bruised on the inside, the head pressed hard against him, starting to poke its way through before he had even begun to push. 

He sat back on his butt, lifting his pussy as it started to bloom. He sighed into the rag, leaning back on his hands to support himself. Under his robes, a gush of fluid burst from him as he first began to push. 

He bit down on the rag, but kept his eyes open, watching and listening for any guards. His face heated with effort and his ears rang as he bore down. He could just barely see his large burden shrink with contraction under his dress. He just hoped that no one else would notice from afar that he was giving birth. 

The head was wide and long. Each soft scale brushed against his cervix as it entered his birth canal. He could feel thick mucus dribble out of his pussy and into his slick panties.

Gritting his teeth, he pushed again; eyes wide open in case someone came in. With his hips angled downwards, the head parted his pussy quickly and quietly.

“Mhm!” He grunted into the rag as the head reached his opening. He stopped pushing and panted through his nose. His big belly rose and fell with each breath. Just drawing air spread him farther. In just moments, he was overwhelmed with a searing pain. 

Quickly, he clapped his hand over his mouth, choking back a guttural scream. Moaning into his palm he threw his head back and rocked his hips. If he pushed now, he was sure to cry out and blow his cover. 

He felt his baby’s head move within him every time that he took a breath. The urge to push was overwhelming, but he knew that he couldn't. This was the birth of his baby that was in jeopardy, who knows what Leon would do to him if he was caught.

“Hmph-” He grunted, angling his hips downwards. The head spread him open and the scales scraped his bruising hole. He bit down on his lip to keep from crying out.

Why had he done this? He was no dragon! These scales felt like hot iron inside of him, tearing his birth canal. 

He moaned into the rag as he felt his baby move down again. There was so much pressure that he could hardly take it. His belly warped with movement and contractions, as if whatever was inside of him would burst from his womb. 

Slick with fluids, the head slowly slid down, pushing his pussy outwards. He gritted his teeth into the rag and took in the deepest breath that he could. Armand wrenched his eyes shut and bore down. 

Hot tears slipped from his tightened eyes and cascaded onto his full breasts, weighed down by milk. His belly nearly flattened against him as he pushed. Fluid spurted into his robes and the first half of the head popped out with a soaking squelch. 

He gasped through his nose, shocked by the sudden sensation. His pussy and hips were spread to their limit. The stretched, bulging skin of his opening burned, trembling over the baby's head. The pain was unbearable and the heat radiated throughout his body. 

His robes kept all of his pain and sweat close, choking him with fever. He threw his head back against the wall, his heart racing in his chest. 

He tried to push, but the pain was too great. The head only bulged his pussy. He felt as if he was going to split apart from the sheer size. This baby was going to tear him to shreds. 

Suddenly, he heard the sound of  voices at his door. He jumped, nearly forgetting the agony that he was in. He clenched for just one second and cried into the rag. That one moment of surprise caused part of the head to slip back into him, scraping his pussy along the way. 

He gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut as his belly contracted once more, slipping the head back out again. He was fully stretched and he knew that he couldn't take much more.

Still, the voices grew closer. They were approaching him. Quickly, he spit the rag from his mouth and hid it between his falling breasts. His robes were colored with dark red, purple, and crimson dyes; the wetness of his labor was concealed by them. 

He forced himself from the wall, but stayed in position, keeping his legs open for the baby. As the voices drew near, his heart sank as a familiar cadence entered his ears. 

Leon.

What would the gnome king say when he saw him? Had he come to taunt and scorn him once more? Had the storm passed? Could Armand beg for his forgiveness?

As the lock to his prison turned, he knew that his questions would soon be answered. 

“Has anything changed?” He asked. 

“Nothing yet, your majesty. The prisoner has been quiet.” The guard said. 

He could feel the look of annoyance in Leon’s voice. “And you didn't bother to check what that meant? He could be in labor!” He exclaimed. 

“My apologies. I was under the impression that you didn't care, sire.” The guard spluttered. 

“Of course I care. I made a vow to my kingdom. I cannot allow him to escape his fate.” He hissed. 

Armand's heart dropped. There was no way that Leon would let him birth his child here if he was discovered. On the inside, his child kicked and he instinctively reached for his gravid belly. He had to keep them safe somehow. 

The door finally opened and Leon entered the chamber. His face was stuck in a permanent, pensive frown. He barged into the prison, knowing that in some way, he owned Armand. For the first time since they had last laid together, Leon looked down on him. 

The two stared at each other in silence, watching through the bars. 

“M-my…my king.” Armand whimpered, his lower lip quivering. 

Leon only looked down in silence. The only sounds that Armand could hear were the desperate beats of his heart in his ears, and his own, labored breaths. 

“Why have you come to see me?” He asked. 

Without a word, Leon unlocked the door to the cell and walked in. He stood over Armand, red in the face with rage. 

“Stand.” He commanded.

Armand blinked rapidly. His baby’s head hung between his legs, still stretching him. 

“What?” He asked. 

Leon sneered. “You dare question your king? I told you to stand!”

Armand swallowed back tears and looked up at his king. His legs shook even as he sat, his hips were wide open and his body was weak. There was no way that he could do that. 

“I… I can't.” He whispered. 

Leon frowned. “What?” 

“I can't!” He exclaimed.

Leon’s breath hitched. “Why not?” He asked. 

He reached to touch his aching roundness, tears spilling from his eyes. 

“My baby is coming.” He wept. 

“What?”

“I am in the throes of labor, my king. I am in great pain.” He continued.

Leon's eye twitched. Before he could say anything more, his robes were pulled up. In his panties was a large, bloody bulge, writhing with every breath that he took. 

“Please, Leon. I just want to have my baby.” Armand cried. 

The King's face warped. His face and ugly mix of disgust and anger, but Armand could also see fear in his eyes. Under  the blood and fluids were crimson scales under thin brown hair, markings of a dragon born.

“I knew it.” Leon whispered. 

“Leon-”

“Guards!” He shouted. 

As footsteps rang through the dungeon, Armand loomed back to Leon with watery eyes. 

“Please, my king. Have mercy!” He cried. 

Leon stuck out his chin and flared his nostrils with a deep frown. “No.” Was all that he said. 

In an instant, he reached for Armand's nethers and palmed the baby’s head. 

“What are you do-AAAUGH!”

In one said motion, he shoved the head back inside of his birth canal, entering him and far as he could. 

Without thinking, Armand kicked him in the shoulder, throwing him back. Leon's eyes gleamed with rage.

“Stop it!” Armand cried. 

Another contraction ripped through him, blinding him with pain. His head was overcome by heat. Guards rushed in, one kneeled by Leon’s side.

They grabbed under his arms and forced him to his feet. He screeched in agony and his baby slipped down inside of him, scraping his insides. Liquid ran down his leg as a guard pushed his back.

“Walk.” He commanded. 

This time, Armand didn't argue. Shakily, he stepped forward, letting the guards rush him to the throne room. 

~~~

With a deep gasp, he awoke. He leaned forward, but found himself stuck. First, he looked down. His belly was still full with his spawn, rippling with contractions. Blood ran down the golden throne to his bare feet. 

His breasts weeped milk onto his roundness, and a tight, leather garment bound his pussy. 

He pressed forward, but was stopped by the chains around his wrist. The cuffs were tight and pulled his arms upwards towards the crest that hung high above the royal throne. 

“Ungh!” He pushed, but it was no use. The leather held him tight, keeping his baby inside. 

Tears filled his eyes as they left his own body. The throne room was filled with spectators, men and women, drinking, betting, laughing. They all watched as the king entered the stage, his eyes on Armand.

“You're awake.” He muttered. 

“Le- HAH!” He gasped. The baby's head pressed against the leather, filling him painfully. 

“Save your strength, my dear. You will need it to birth your little monsters.” He crooned, stroking his cheek. 

Quickly, Armand turned his head and bit down, but he only caught the air. 

Leon grinned. “Calm down now, I’m only trying to make this easier for you.” He said. 

Armand panted. “How is any of this easy?” He demanded. 

Leon shrugged. “At least after this, that first dragonette is bound to come shooting out of you.”

Turning around, he lifted his leg and pressed his foot against his crotch. Armand's vision swam as the pain raced through his body. His belly flattened against him, trying with no avail to get the baby out.

Still, he looked up at the king with contempt. “You never said you would do this to me.” He hissed.

“That was before you tried to escape the consequences of your actions.” Leon replied. 

He looked out into the crowd. “Do you see them?” He asked, referring to his subjects. “They're betting on how many babies you'll release from your lying lips and what they will be.”

He turned back to Armand with a sly smile. “I bet you don't even know what's living inside of you.” He teased. He placed a palm on his writhing belly and Armand could do nothing about it. 

“You are sick!” Armand hissed. 

Leon's eyebrows bounced on his forehead. “Watch what you say. I could have you laboring even longer if I do please.” He said. “You're lucky that I only decided to delay your birth by a day as punishment for your tricks.” 

Armand's breath hitched, but in his quest for words, he came up with nothing. 

“Maybe this will give you some time to think about what you've done.” Leon replied. 

After that, he turned on his heel and started to walk away. Armand pulled on the chains, fruitlessly trying to catch up to him. 

“You can't do this!” He cried. “You have to let me give birth! It hurts! Please!”

His only answer was Leon walking off of the stage and sitting in the crowd. A sadistic smile spread across his face as he watched Armand writhe in pain.

~~~

The sun rose and set and Armand labored all the while. After so much time, he didn't care that he was naked and on display for the whole kingdom to see. He had to push. 

He spread his legs as wide as they could go and angled his hips off of the throne. The leather made his efforts fruitless, pressing against him tightly, pushing his baby back inside his battered pussy. 

He had no strength left to cry or scream, all that he could do was wait. The crowd watched him with hungry eyes, betting on his life, the life of his babies. 

Through the stained glass windows of the throne room, the sun beat down on him, freckling and tanning his brown skin. He was covered in cold sweat and birthing fluids that ran down the throne, covering the stairs. 

He whimpered and closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to end. Through the deafening agony, he heard footsteps and just barely opened his eyes. 

Leon approached him, dressed in all of his royal garb. His crown resting on top of his head. His face was hardened, but he still glowed with sadism. 

“How are you doing, darling?” He asked, lifting Armand's chin. 

Armand winced and shivered. “I’m. Fine.” He whispered shortly.  

Leon tilted his head and smiled. “Aw, look at you, putting on a brave face. You really are a gem.” He said. 

“It's too bad that you just couldn't be satisfied with me, we could have had great times together.” He crooned. 

Armand sniffed. “I want nothing to do with you.” He growled. 

“That's too bad.” He paused and pressed a hand down on Armand's tight belly. The laboring man cried out in pain and fluids spurted from his pussy. Blood flowed down the stairs, decorating them in gore. 

“Maybe I’ll have you go another day. The crowd seems to like you. Did you know that you're the first to do this in seventy nine years?” He taunted. 

Armand couldn't answer, still crying from the torture.  He couldn't even move to soothe himself. He was completely vulnerable and stuck. His baby writhed inside of him, pressing against the leather garment. 

“You can either denounce yourself for your children or… well, leave it up to fate.” Leon teased. 

Armand gasped. “Just let me give birth to my babies.” 

Leon shrugged. “It's your choice.”

With a pensive pause, Armand turned towards the crowd. He hung his head, looking down at his bloodied crotch. 

“I, Armand of Belfdale, renounce my place as consort. Due to my unfaithfulness, I have brought this upon myself. I would be honored for his majesty to let me release my bastards against his throne.” He said. 

Almost instantly, the crowd began to boo him. Throwing their food and drinks towards the throne. The uproar burned his ears and tears fell from his eyes.

Leon turned back to him, but he didn't bother to look into his cold green eyes again. 

“Well, they seem excited.” He said. 

Armand stayed silent. 

“Surely, you can wait until they calm down.”

~~~

Night fell and Armand's consciousness was weak. He rose and fainted multiple times during dinner. He knew that this couldn't continue for much longer. 

This time, a guard stepped up to the plate. He couldn't see his face through his helmet, but he seemed nervous. 

“The king is graciously allowing you to give birth.” He said. 

Armand panted heavily, watching the rise and fall of his own belly.

Without another word, the young guard undid the leather straps and slowly pulled them down and off of his ankles. Armand spread his legs. His contractions had weakened over time, but he still needed to push. He was going to deliver these babies. 

He angled his hips off of the throne and whimpered as his baby's scaley head reentered his ruined hole. He wrenched his eyes shut and turned away from the crowd as they jeered. 

He wished that he could rub his belly, feel the head and tell his little baby that everything would be okay, but he was chained, terrified and in grave pain. He had to do this quickly. 

He pressed his chin to his chest and pushed, barely even having a voice left. A high pitched whine slipped between his teeth as he was once again, stretched to his limit. 

Even when the weak contraction stopped, he kept pushing,forcing his baby lower. Suddenly, the head popped out of him and a gush of fluids that he didn't know he had in him vacated his body. 

He gasped and leaned forward, pulling on the chains. His baby’s scales had hardened inside of him and scraped against his vagina. Still, he pressed on. 

Bearing down again, the baby's neck and shoulders slowly slipped out. They sank heavily into his pussy, pulling the rest of the body out. Before he could react, his first baby fell onto the stage.

Armand gasped and leaned forward as much as he could. The little girl squirmed, opened her mouth and finally cried. Despite the pain that he was in, Armand felt relieved. 

“It's okay, I'm here. It's okay.” He whispered to her. 

As she cried, another, stronger contraction rushed through him. His belly tightened and he felt his pussy stretch, but he didn't even realize that he was pushing until his second baby fell onto the ground next to her sister.

He and the crowd gasped in unanimous surprise. This girl had no scales and a full head of curly brown hair. Her birth had been so fast that Armand barely had time to react. Neither did his body. 

After he saw her, his pussy throbbed with horrible pain. He winced and spread his legs as he lost more blood. At this point, he was so swollen that he was becoming numb. 

Despite birthing two babies, his belly hadn't gone down by much. He still felt full and restless. Inside him, another baby writhed and kicked impatiently. Now that their siblings were free, they were next.

The head pressed against his loose cervix, his hips popped, and he felt as if he was going to break apart. His belly lurched with another contraction. 

The crowd cheered wildly, excited for another, longer birth. He wasn't concerned about them though, their shouts were dulled by the pain that he was in.

Armand could hear his heartbeat in his ears, rushing especially quickly as his babies cried from the floor. He had to get to them. 

All of a sudden, he felt something snap and searing hot agony permeated his hips. He shrieked, crying out. Something was wrong, this baby was pushing him past his limits. 

Despite how hard he was pushing, the baby wouldn't move any further. The scaly head pressed him open, forcing his legs as far apart as they could go.

“AUGHH!” He screamed. His voice shook and cracked from effort. He could feel the veins in his forehead popping. Still, he pushed fruitlessly. 

A wave of amniotic fluid flushed from him, soaking the stairs of the stage and the throne. There was nothing else, his hips were stuck open and he felt as if he was going to burst. He had to do something. Anything!

For the first time in hours he lifted his head, facing the crowd. Gasps and whispers followed his gaze as he planted his feet and slowly stood. His big belly poked out in front of him, full of the large baby he was carrying. 

His hips protested greatly, but he held himself up. Adrenaline rushed through his veins as he pushed once more. 

“HUAAAGH!”

Pink fluid spilled from him as he bore down. His pussy bulged out as the head finally entered his birth canal. He lunged and pushed again, feeling the baby's head press against the outside world.

This head was even harder than his oldest daughter's, and blood ran down his legs as the scales cut him. He put his chin to his chest and pulled on the chains. His baby was depending on him. 

As much as he could, he squatted. His belly constricted against him and he whimpered loudly. His large load sank as the baby's head finally popped out of his vagina, opening it completely. 

He pushed down, pulling on the chains. He spread his legs as wide as he could. The baby’s weight filled him and bulged him out. He felt as if his organs were going to fall from him. 

Briefly, he stopped pulling and gasped for air. He opened his eyes and looked up at Leon. The king stared down at him with hardened eyes, watching as his pussy slowly released this monster of a baby. 

Armand curled his lip, looked into his eyes and pushed again. The scales scraped him and opened his mouth and screamed, still looking into Leon’s eyes. He and his babies were going to make it, Leon wasn't his master, even if he was chained. 

With his momentum, he pulled against the restraints as his baby's shoulders left his body with a squelch. The child hung still inside of him and he tried to push, but he felt something poking him. 

The bony structure on his child’s back stuck into the scrapes that he already had. Tears filled his eyes as they slid down, ripping his pussy. 

Blood dropped at his feet, planted in front of the fruits of his labor. His head swam and his eyes twitched. He looked up at Leon, who looked down at him. He wasn't sure, but it looked like a smirk crossed his face.

Leon thought that he was weak. He’d show him.

He pulled on the chains as hard as he could and pushed. His baby tore into him as it came down. His baby spilled from him and the bony structures unfolded just below his vagina. 

Wings.

“AAAUGH!”

He pulled on the chains and gave one final push. As he did, a deafening bang rang from behind him. Quickly, he swiveled his head around as the Albaine crest was forced from the wall.

The sudden change sent Armand sprawling to the ground beside his babies, as his son fell from his wounded womb. The crest crushed the throne, kicking up hundreds of years of dust.

The crowd immediately ran for the doors. In the panic, the king's mobile throne was dropped. Armand watched in horror as he fell into the audience and was trampled.

With the subjects in terror and the knights trying to rescue the king, everyone has forgotten about Armand. He took that as his chance. In the chaos he ran to grab a tablecloth. Quickly, he grabbed his children and disappeared into the night. Never to be seen again.