Crossection Of An Omega Style Male Pregnancy.

imagine you start a new form of birth control, and at first you think it’s working just fine. it even has the added benefit of completely stopping your period. your libido has ramped up a bit as well, but you have an *extremely successful* social life. that’s what the bc is for in the first place.

all is well until about a month after you start it, when you start noticing some… interesting weight gain. you’d shrug it off as another symptom of the bc, but you want to be sure, so you take a test. negative, thank god. aside from the slight paranoia, your partners certainly don’t seem to mind the soft, supple changes.

but you keep growing. within a week, you’re having to find larger pants and bras/binders to make room for your new curves. to say your tummy is noticeable would be putting it lightly.

you arrive at the doc’s office. she openly stares at you when she sees you, and lets you know that she’s going to do an ultrasound on you. you let her know that you’ve taken three tests at this point, all of them negative. she laughs nervously.

“I think you might be having an… unexpected reaction to the new birth control.”

she explains that what may have happened is, rather than fully stopping your cycle, the birth control locked you into the stage of the cycle you were experiencing when you started it. which, in your case, seems to have been ovulation.

“In other words, I think you may have been ovulating nonstop for the past two months. I’d guess that’s an egg or two every week, maybe three,” she says, as she places the wand on your sensitive midriff and begins sliding it around.

“Out of curiosity,” she says with an edge in her voice, “how frequently have you been sexually active?” you try not to notice how pale her face has gone.

you’re starting to feel a little dizzy from all this new information. you let her now that, before you started the new stuff, you’d average about one hook-up a week, maybe twice with an fwb, but with your upped sexual drive… it’s been a bit more than that.

she looks at the screen, and goes even paler. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re already laying down. No good way to say this, so I’ll just show you.”

she turns the screen to you.

you faint before you’re able to finish counting.

Your dad is a doctor and we're bored, fucking around with his stuff. You use the tongue depressors as you try to suppress your gag reflexes, then look to see if he has any of the good drugs.

Playing around, I grab the stethoscope and press it to your chest, using the excuse to cup your breast, stroking your unusually sensitive nipple. We laugh, as I run it down along your body.

I pause at your stomach. I frown. Heartbeats

Plural.

"What is it?" You sit up.

I listen again and laugh, weaker. It's ridiculous.

"It almost sounds like . . . You're pregnant." I say.

You grab the stethoscope and listen. It can't be true. You lost your virginity to a one night stand three days ago but now you hear one . . .

Two . . .

Three . . .

Four . . .

Five . . .

How far along am I?

I saw over your shoulder that you were browsing baby clothes again. You started taking more supplements to aide in hormone therapy. You kept me in the loop about your doctor visits. I watch as the chemicals take hold.

Your hair grows, your breasts become swollen and sore on occasion. Your hips and back ache as your body prepares for motherhood. It looks good on you. Your skin is glowing.

It's a weeknight when you call me over, saying that your mood swings were making being alone unbearable. So you think I should stay to help.

You also wanted more of my famous roll cake.

The very roll cake that I've mixed your silly cocktail into the powdered sugar that coats the top, and if I had extra-like I did this time around- I used some in the fluffy whipped cream filling. I made 2 cakes for you. You were so excited that I had to keep telling you to finish your dinner.

I sat idly by and indulged in my simple strawberries and sugar with not silly whipped cream filling I had left over from the cake. I watched you cut piece after piece, joyfully eating away. "H-hey maybe you should slow down.." I mention loosely.

You sent me messages from work with a small plate with a slice pictured on your desk. Meanwhile, I'm scanning over the local directory of men at the local offices around our apartments. Then cross referencing them with a sperm donor database. Being half yourself and half mine seemed to be your preferred state of being.

You became very frisky and naughty for me. You wanted to show me what I owned and what I do to you. Just for me, all for me. Those pictures of cake on your desk gave way to you spread under your desk, cubicle door closed, mouth covered and eyes completely glazed over as I watched the huge dildo occupy your aching dripping cunny. I bought you a small machine to pump that large cock into you and to my surprise you had begun taking it to work.

I decide to challenge you to keep working while the setting was just strong enough that you couldn't ignore it. Watching your body be rhythmically jolted, one hand under your desk as you played with your pussy. You came so many times.

You've become my perfect cum slut.

You came home later that night on unsteady legs, still tripping and stumbling around from your brain still floating around.

A few weeks later, I had made my selection, and I take you out of your apartment and lead you to mine, "I have a surprise for you, bunny."

A married man (yes I made him keep his ring on), standing in my apartment. He was a tall man, well-kept and strong angular features. His cologne might have been..altered to aide in the experience.

"You never told me you had a husband, Mistress," you say as the man approaches you, holding out a hand to take yours and kiss it. I don't say much as I think about how much time it would take for you to fall back into being a bunny. My bunny babygirl.

It was a beautiful sight.

We have dinner and you got on with him quite well, laughing along and touching his body with great intrigue. He responds with greedy touches on your body, picking you up and guiding him onto his lap. Your head darts in my direction, almost for approval. He holds you close, cupping and fondling your swollen breasts.

Lost in his firm touch, you relax into him as he rubs your belly, lazily rolling your nipple as I fix your dessert. I can see his mind scanning your body, taking memory of all of your curves and everything that makes you tick. "You're being such a good girl, right now," he encourages, nibbling against your neck. That makes you shy.

"Warren, dear, do you need anything?" I ask.

"Panties..off..now," he rises from the couch, lost in the pheromones I sprayed all over your clothes as he hikes your pencil skirt up, exposing your cute lacy undies to me. Then pulling them down as you still stood, frozen in place and a little stunned. I could see it in your eyes you were confused by how quick he moves.

You step out of the fabric and straighten your skirt, blush turning your face pink. You couldn't believe he did that. You turn to look at the man who sat back and admired your body. I approach with dessert. I steal you a distance away and begin feeding you- which you begin to smile again.

"Mistress, why did he take my panties off?" you ask simply, using my eyes as refuge.

That's the last thing you remember. Sitting in my apartment naked under your skirt.

You tell me about this man- Warren- taking you back to your apartment last night. You explain excitedly about a date you barely remember- only highlighting the laughter and insane dinner at this fancy restaurant. He was all over you and all for you.

I couldn't be happier. I ask if you ended your night on a good note and you reply with the correct answer. You ask me if you were safe for him to be cumming in you raw, knowing I keep better track of your ovulation nowadays. Must be the horomones.

Silly bunny.

I lie and say that you had two weeks. For fourteen days straight, he updated me about how much he stuffed his fat cock into your little pussy. He shows me pictures of you laying in a daze, eyes rolling back as he pumped load after load until you couldn't hold it anymore.

The plan worked flawlessly.

"M-mistress, there's something wrong.." you tell me on a call.

I come over and I take you to a doctor. He pulls up the ultrasound and you couldn't believe it.

A little outline of a baby in its beginning stages growing in your womb.

"Congratulations," I say to you, "You got your wish, baby bunny."

OHMYGODOHMYGIDOHMYHOD

am i a terrible, icky bunny if i say this i want this to be real? i want this :( i want this :(

Doing the lord's work. Go support them!

New film!!!

I feel like I’m already 10 cm dilated….

From this past Friday, March 14th

*knocks you up in a horrorpreg way*

Thinking about laying a big clutch of big eggs and being so tired I can't push anymore. On my back , my legs apart as I'm already too tired to squat or keep myself up in any way. The earlier eggs of the clutch barely set aside, reminding me that the ones weighing down my body need the same kind of effort to be finally born. I want to rest at least a little bit so maybe I could try to push, but the contractions already. Almost feeling my folds close around the egg as it slides a little bit back because even though I tried to push it was way too weak to keep it moving. I'm so barely conscious the only thing I feel is my body trying to get it out. With the fleeting strength I try to keep the tension and as it slides out I faint with it in-between my legs. With at least two more left in my womb, ready to wreck my spent body.