BOO!

A tribute to heavy bellies.

Bellies that fill a whole lap.

Bellies that hang down.

Bellies that pull.

Bellies that sit low in the hips.

Bellies that make you stretch.

Bellies that weigh against you.

Bellies that take your breath away.

Bellies that grind into your pelvis.

Bellies that are one fuck away from labor.

Bellies that bulge.

Bellies that deform.

Bellies that sway as you move.

Bellies that grow. Grow. Grow.

Bellies that take a life of their own.

Heavy. Low. Pulsing. Pressing. Contracting.

Bellies.

Easily 2 of my favorite animations , go check out the artists

“Your belly looks so low. How long have you been in labor?” I ask. I noticed your large belly had dropped much lower from where it usually sat. Your waddle into the store today was highly exaggerated. You have to hold you back with each aching step.

“I think I’ve been in labor all morning,” You groan out. You straighten up as the contraction finally ends. We check around the grocery aisle and thankfully we were alone. You rub your extended middle and try to catch your breath.

This was your first birth and you trusted me with instructing you every part of the way. From what you wore, to what you ate, to how much sex you had everything. Which means you left me in charge of when we go to the hospital to give birth. And I am going to wait it out as long as I can.

“How close are your contractions?” I question. I already knew they were less than 5 minutes apart. You’ve been trying hard to hide it but I knew from how you bent over slightly, you were experiencing a contraction. So it was easy for me to keep track.

“They’re close together… but my water hasn’t broken yet,” You say as you start to waddle down the aisle again. I silently applaud you for trying your best to pretend everything is okay. But from the way your hips are swaying I know we don’t have much time.

“Then I guess we’re not in that much of a rush,” I tease. I know your water will break soon. I’m hoping to be at the back of the store by then. Won’t it be fun to have to pass everyone while you’re dripping fluids and screaming on our way out?

This is me in bed, writhing in pain. Can you help me keep my legs open so I can push?!

Please? Oh GOD I NEED TO PUSH! AUUUUH!

Too Many Babies, Too Much Movement

My belly is a dense mass of misshapen flesh distending from my lap, its roundness deformed with the bulges, valleys, and plains across its surface that are caused by baby bodies and heads pressing against it. It towers over me, my own fearsome fertility glaring down at me, the hideous pressure inside from seven, eight, maybe more, fetuses making me moan pitifully.

Then the babies move.

I can’t withhold a wail of agony as my massive abdomen begins to churn visibly on my lap, the sound one of horror as much as it is one of pain. My belly is churning, the flesh undulating in front of me, my mass of unborn children writhing in a pile inside me. My uterus bulges, feet and heads and hands distorting the already deformed surface of my flesh with their movements, the entire mass alive with eager internal activity.

I’m moaning constantly, a pitiful and helpless cry of despair and agony emanating from my throat like a siren. My entire body had been colonized by these babies, my breasts engorged for their milk, my hips widened for their birth, my poor belly blown up and out and destroyed for their gestation. I know that after they’re born I will never look the same, I will be forever transformed by the incredible pregnancy I’ve been made to endure.

The babies won’t stop. It feels like I’m going to pop. There are so many packed in there, the babies piled on top of each other, squirming and kicking against each other, that my belly is warping grotesquely as it leers down at me. My voice is a guttural groan, throaty and coarse as my mind reels at the thought of being ripped open. My skin burns, already stretched way beyond its limit and aching terribly as my children torture it further with their aggressive movements. Desperately, I reach up and grab whatever painful bulges jutting out from my mound that I can reach, trying to push the babies’ limbs and heads back inside me, my belly so large that I can’t reach the softball-sized protrusions at the top of my womb.

My belly jerks in my arms, the entire mass heaving from side to side as if trying to escape from my grasp. My breasts, painfully engorged and massively enlarged, are pressed up into my face and threaten to smother me. I feel wetness trailing down the impressive curves of my tits and the front downward slope of my belly, and I know it’s because the pressure has caused my nipples to gush milk from their enormous supply.

I want to give birth. I want to get them out. But I can’t. They’re not done growing. They need to be bigger.

It’s my fate to my taken over by babies. I am a slave to pregnancy.

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I know it's hard out here to charge for fetish work with AI, but I'm looking for a fetish writer to write a hyper-pregnancy story. Will pay. Contact me.

"I- I'm not pregnant," the boy insisted, clutching his contracting dome of a belly. It had been sagging low, hanging heavy on his hips ever since it had dropped last week. You could see his stomach muscles harden and squeeze again, as they had been doing for several hours now.

"Really?" You said, "You could have fooled me. You don't mind if I hold your belly, right? I just want to get an idea of where the pain is coming from. ...Would that be alright?"

-You asked for permission, but you were already walking forward and outstretching a hand to touch your boy's gravid womb.

The boy but his lip, conflicted over whether to permit you or not. But before he knew it, your warm palms were pressing tenderly into his midsection... and you could feel the very shape of the babies you'd fucked into him nine months ago.

For nine months, he had been denying his pregnancy to you, and especially to himself.

Silly boy... as if constantly tugging down the bottom of his shirts to conceal his swelling belly all this time hadn't just drawn more attention to it.

"Ah! AHH!" a gush of fluid finally flowed out of him and down his exposed legs. "I can feel it coming... I can feel something descending... My body is telling me to push... No, no no no! I can't be pregnant-" your little boy began to break down in sobs.

"Shhh, shhh. It's okay. I'm here with you," you said as you kept using one hand to lift the weight of his belly off his hips, and lowered the other to check his dilation. Somewhat to your surprise, you could already feel the head of the first baby brushing up against your fingers. Your boy had held back his contractions for so long... and yet here he was, already in a beautiful crown.

"I'm not ready to be a daddy..." he breathed, gritting his teeth through the pain. "I can't be pregnant. I'm not even able to get pregnant..."

You were the sort of loving partner who would comply with anything your boyfriend wished.

"If you're not pregnant," you said, "then you won't mind if I push this back in."

You watched his eyes grow wide before you started to apply pressure and push your baby's head back to whence it came.

He looked so wonderful, round and swollen like this. Why not keep him this way a little longer? In all honesty, you both weren't ready to be parents just yet.

"You can keep them inside you until you're ready, baby. I love you. ❤️"

Nobody never SAW this coming

Jenny woke up and tried to look around herself. She could not see, as she was in total darkness. She felt around her the best she could, and noted she was in a chair. Her stomach felt weird, but she couldn’t put her finger on why. Her vagina was definitely more sore than she’d ever felt in her life. She sat forward just a touch, and a tv lit up. The face of a man.. doll.. thing she’d seen on the news began to speak. “Jenny Clayton. You have proven you value the potential life of a clump of cells over that of a real living person- over the life of your own sister. You would rather your own flesh and blood die from preventable complications, than seek out medical attention. Today, your values will be put to the test. Once the clock starts ticking, you will be faced with a choice and only 24 hours to make that choice. Finish the task at hand in time, and you just might walk away from this.”

The room lit up enough to see she was in a grungy hospital setting, her legs spread apart in stirrups. Her stomach was still flat, but she did feel weird. Jenny moved one leg off the stirrup, then the other. As soon as her feet touched solid ground, and she stood up, a clock started ticking. From there she doubled over clutching her stomach. It hurt so bad she felt like she was going to throw up. It didn’t take long to realize it was beginning to inflate. “What the f— ooow!” Her stomach grew and grew, to the point of nearly collapsing. A trophy cabinet lit up in the corner. Inside was a long, sharp hook and a note. She slowly walked over to the cabinet- stopping during particularly painful growth spurts. The note only said, “it’s your choice.” “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” As her stomach began to slow in its growth, it became harder to breathe. She saw the timer still had 17 and a half hours on it. Plenty of time to deal with this. She rubbed her stomach, and felt it flutter beneath her hand. “Hello?? Hello!!!” She called out but she was utterly alone. Time dragged on and she found herself getting more scared. She only had 6 hours left when she felt contractions. “SOMEBODY HELP ME!” She screamed as they became stronger and more frequent. It didn’t take long to realize each contraction made her stomach grow more. “I can’t give birth! I’m not ready!” She cried. She eyed the hook but shook her head. She was better than that. Better than her slut sister. She whimpered in pain as she labored on. It wasn’t until there were 3 hours and 18 minutes left on the timer that she felt the need to push. She climbed back onto the table with the stirrups and began to push. She pushed and pushed slowly feeling her birth canal filling. The mass still grew as she pushed and just as her lips began to part, it became firmly lodged at her opening. No amount of pushing helped. The clock began to tick as it counted down, the last half hour. She screamed as the stretching got so bad she begin to tear. She shook her head and strained against it all, before she finally caved. She knew there was only one way to stop this. She slowly climbed back down from the table and began to waddle to the case with the hook. Time seemed to be moving faster but she was moving just that much slower. She had just managed to grab the hook and aim it towards her vagina when the timer buzzed. She had just enough time to look at the clock in horror before her stomach exploded. There was no baby. Instead there was a rubber ball like device inside her, filled with water designed to simulate pregnancy and labor. Had she simply “aborted” it, she’d have walked away with a valuable lesson and sympathy for her sisters decision.

you have a gif that you’ve used a few times of a man in red putting some sort of powder on a pregnant woman’s stomach, forcing her into labor in some sort of ritual. do you know what movie that’s from? it looks so familiar but i can’t find anything!

Hi, it's from Soul's Midnight 2006.