bellyburdens

[bellyburdens]

Engorged and pregnant

[bellyburdens]

Awards Show 

This isn’t a prompt or request (they’re still closed for now). This is just a self indulgent little scene that turned into a 3k fic. Bit more intimacy/sensual themes than my usual, but still has all my fav tropes :) Hope people enjoy this one x

I couldn’t resist the opportunity to show you off to my friends and colleagues at the company awards dinner. This may have been the biggest you’d ever gotten during any of your pregnancies; your tight firm belly was a beach ball beneath your maroon silk dress, hanging low and heavy on your hips. My hand wrapped around your waist and squeezed your hip affectionately as we mingled through the crowd. With a champagne glass in hand you smiled and laughed at the joke my boss made. 

“You look ready to pop my dear. You better not steal the show tonight by going into labour” The CEO had said with a grin, looking in awe at your incredible size. 

We both laughed, my hand moving up and down your lower back. If only he knew.

Your contractions had started this afternoon, the slow gentle tightening of your womb signalling our baby’s readiness to come into the world. But even with your contractions, we still put our black tie outfits on and went out this evening to the company awards show. You knew it was important to me and my career. Plus, neither of us could deny the thrill of having to ride out your contractions in such a public setting. 

“How are you doing darling?” I whispered in your ear after my boss and CEO walked away. 

“Mmmm… okay…. They’re getting a little stronger now though.” You said with a breathy moan, your hand naturally moving across the underside of your belly, rubbing the taut skin through the silk fabric of your dress. 

“Let’s quickly pop into the bathroom before we take our seats. I can check to see how you’re progressing.”  

With my hand around your waist I felt how much more you were waddling, a sign of how low the baby was sitting in the bowl of your pelvis. I squeezed your hip and took a long breath to try and control myself. 

In the single occupancy bathroom I quickly locked the door behind us. You found your way to the sink and braced against the bathroom counter, swaying your hips through another contraction. I growled at the sight, seeing you so gravid and fertile, your body doing something so powerful and natural. 

“You look incredible, my love.” I stood behind you, pressing my body against your backside and wrapping my arms around you to feel the firm and hard skin of your belly as it contracted. A low moan came from your lips as the wave reached its peak and I bent forward, my chest to your back, whispering in your ear to breathe. 

When the contraction had passed, I pulled up the fabric of your maroon silk dress, slowly up your thighs until I reached my destination. You moaned as I slipped my fingers inside, deep but gentle, knowing how sensitive you were during labour. 

“Wow darling…. You’re already at 7cm.” My words were thick with desire in your ear. “Do you think you can hold on for the rest of the evening?” 

You smiled at me through the reflection of the mirror, grinning with excitement. 

We made our way out the bathroom and found our seats for the dinner and awards ceremony. I could feel your breathing was heavier, your movements were slower, and I beamed with pride at how well you were doing. Everyone was in awe of your attendance this evening, being so advanced in your pregnancy, and yet nobody knew just how close you were to not being pregnant anymore. 

Our seats were in the middle of the hall, on a large round table with nearly a dozen other people. Some colleagues I knew, others I didn’t, all with their partners or spouses. Music was playing, waiters were bringing food to tables, drinks were flowing, the room was soon filled with conversation and laughter as people got progressively more drunk. All the while you sat beautifully beside me, joining in discussions and smiling brightly. My gorgeous wife, heavily pregnant, and secretly in active labour. 

Two courses into our meal you started to hum quietly beside me, shifting in your seat. My hand found your thigh, my thumb rubbing soothing motions across your leg over the thin fabric of your dress. “You’re doing great darling, just breathe through them. Not long now.” I purred in your ear, knowing that wasn’t true. The awards had just commenced, my boss and CEO taking the stage to begin proceedings, and like all previous company dinners I knew it would be a long evening. 

Contraction after contraction wracked your body, but you showed no obvious signs of discomfort. You’d gone a little quieter perhaps but your smile remained bright to everyone around us. Every now and then throughout the evening the room would erupt in obligatory applause as someone was granted an award or achievement from the company. During one of these moments my ears pricked, attuned to your sounds, and I heard a low moan slip from your parted lips. 

My arm wrapped around your shoulders, leaning in close, my breath caressing your neck. “Darling…. You okay?” I asked, concerned but unbelievably aroused. 

“Nngh… baby feels so low…” you whispered, spreading your legs a little under the table. 

I shivered, stuttering slightly with a husky voice “D-Do you need to push?” 

“N-no…. I’m okay just…. A lot of pressure—oooof” 

I kissed the side of your cheek affectionately, my hand still wrapped around your shoulders while the other squeezed your thigh. “You’re doing brilliantly, my love. Just keep breathing through them.” I shifted in my seat to hide my obvious arousal. The idea that you might start pushing right here in this venue was almost too much to bear. I took a long sip of my drink and focused back on the stage to distract myself. 

Half way through the awards, after all the food had been consumed leaving dessert plates and empty wine bottles littering the table, you suddenly reached out and gripped my thigh squeezing tight. I looked over to you with a mix of concern and excitement. You had slumped slightly in your seat, spreading your legs wider under the table and tilting your hips up, your breasts and belly rising and falling with your rapid breathing. 

“Breathe…. Breathe through it darling, we’re almost there.” I encouraged softly, my hand moving to rest upon your heavy belly sitting between your spread thighs, feeling the rock hard muscles beneath my fingers. You grunted a little, a sound I recognised, and my eyes nearly came out their sockets. 

“Don’t push darling… you need to hold it a little longer okay.” I tried to soothe you, but my heart was thumping in my chest and my insides were coiling with unbridled excitement. 

“M-my— waters—” you croaked, relaxing after the intense contraction. 

I looked down; from above your dress looked completely dry but when I felt underneath the top layer I felt the liquid that was now dripping down your inner thighs and onto the floor. Quickly grabbing my fabric napkin and yours, I dropped them under the table, putting one between your legs and the other on the floor to soak up the worst of it. 

“Shhhh… you’re okay my love. Looks like it’s nearly time, baby wants to meet us.” My hand moved possessively over your belly, my smile wide and beaming with pride. You smiled, your cheeks flushed a little, leaning closer to kiss me softly. 

“Can we go now?” You asked quietly, and I noticed the light sheen of sweat on your forehead. 

“Yes darling, you’ve done wonderfully. Let’s go and meet our new baby—”

Then my name very loudly echoed across the hall and all eyes were focused in our direction. The award. Shit. My boss was standing on stage, crystal award in hand, and everyone began to clap. 

“Damn— I erm— do I go—” my words fumbled from my mouth as I looked between you and the stage. You were absolutely full to the brim with our baby, so close to delivering…. But staying would mean you would have to hold on a little bit longer, and that thought sent a shiver up my spine. 

“Go sweetheart, go get your award.” You said affectionately, putting a hand on my cheek. 

“Are you sure? You’re incredible.” I kissed your lips, both of us basqued under a spotlight from the venue, and then I walked quickly up to the stage to receive my award. 

Looking out across the crowd my eyes were focused only on you. Sitting proudly at our table, your eyes beamed with joy as you clapped along with the rest of the room. Clearing my throat, trying to regain professional composure, I began my speech. Your eyes glistened with affection and pride, hanging onto my every word even though you had heard me practice this over and over again. 

Then I noticed a change in you, barely perceptible to anyone else but I knew your body better than my own. You tensed, your smiling expression now forced, and you had one hand gripping the edge of the table while the other moved to the underside of your belly. Fumbling my words I was utterly distracted watching you in the middle of the crowd, secretly riding out what looked like an intense contraction. I was in awe of you, still smiling and beaming with pride, while your body squeezed and contracted and opened for our baby. You’d never looked more beautiful. 

I regurgitated my well rehearsed speech, looking only at you, as if the rest of the room no longer existed. Your full and swollen bosom was rising and falling rapidly atop your large, firm belly, and you seemed to be panting silently through the wave. Minutes passed and contraction wasn’t letting you go, I was still talking and you were still squirming in your chair. I watched as you grit your teeth, gripping the sides of your chair and spreading your legs wider under the table. Your demeanor shifted, something had changed. I could see your jaw clamped, teeth almost bared, and your face was contorted with effort— 

Holy shit you were pushing!!! 

I gripped the podium in front of me, my hips twitching, the sight of you pushing nearly throwing me over the edge of ecstasy. Clearing my throat, I managed to continue my speech, all the while I watched you instinctively push right there in the middle of this formal event. I smirked as I got towards the end, where I very publicly thanked my beautiful pregnant wife. All eyes across the venue suddenly turned in your direction. I didn’t know what you’d do, whether you’d admit defeat and acknowledge your labour, or if you’d continued to hide the fact you were uncontrollably pushing…. 

To my surprise, your face broke into a wide gleeful grin as you waved at me on stage and blew a kiss across the room, amazingly keeping up appearances. But your legs were wide under the table, I could see from this position up on the stage just how far apart they’d spread. Was our baby crowning underneath that silk dress of yours? How close were they to coming out? How long could you keep up pretences before nature took full control?… 

I practically skipped off the stage back towards our table, the room clapping with obligatory applause. 

“You’re pushing.” I whispered in your ear as I bent down to kiss your cheek. 

“Mmmmh— couldn’t help it—” you growled a reply, equally as quiet but heavy with effort. 

“We can’t leave right now, everyone will be watching us.” I sat down in my chair beside you, slipping my arm around you and pulling you closer into an embrace. 

“I— I know—” you were panting, legs spread under the table, your hand gripping my thigh and digging your nails in. 

“How much longer can you hold on darling? How close is the baby?” My words were thick with excitement. 

“Baby… is low… but I don’t think… they’re crowning yet…. But-unhhhhhhhhhh-I can’t stop pushing—”

“Shhhhh… you’re doing brilliantly my love. If you can, try little pushes for now. We don’t know if you’re fully dilated and we don’t want you to tear.” I cooed, stroking your thigh that was spread open right against mine. 

As the next award was announced, I heard you grunting during the applause. You said the baby wasn’t crowning but those sounds you were making, your subtle movements, were all too familiar to me. We certainly weren’t going to make it home for this birth, and I doubted if we’d even make it to the car. And yet you gave me no signs of wanting to move, staring blankly up at the stage as your chest heaved and your belly contracted, silently pushing our baby closer to this world. 

“You’re doing wonderful darling, so incredible. Keep doing what your body tells you—”

“— I can feel the head—” you suddenly blurted out, twitching on your seat and pulling your legs together with an obvious grimace. 

“Let’s go, now while everyone’s distracted.” I put my arms around you, helping you out of your chair. You were trembling. 

“Mmmmmgh— it feels like the baby is gonna fall out—” you moaned under your breath, cradling your belly as you rose to your feet. 

I laughed a little, supporting your hips. “It’s not going to fall out sweetheart, you’ve got a lot more pushing to go yet.” I purred in your ear as I led you out the dinner hall, your legs were unsteady and your gait was obscenely wide. I had no idea what was going on under your clothing, how close the baby was to being born, which only made this whole situation all the more thrilling. 

Beyond the doors of the formal company dinner, the moan that came from your mouth was deep and guttural as you stopped to brace against a nearby wall. Palms to the flat surface your hips jerked backwards against me as you bore down uncontrollably. 

“Nnnnnghhh— ohhhhhh I can feel the head— starting to come out—”

I rubbed your back and hips, squeezing and providing counter pressure that I knew you’d need. “Try not to push too hard babe… we need to get you back to the car…” 

Realising the corridor was empty, all guests inside the dinner hall, I slipped a hand under the silk fabric of your dress climbing up your inner thigh to feel your progress. I didn’t even make it to your entrance as I felt the distinct bulge of your underwear, the head nestled so low it was pushing against your lower lips. 

“Oh fuck babe…. The head is right there…” I groaned, fingers running across the damp fabric of your cotton underwear. 

“Nnnnnghh— I know— I can feel it— trying to come out—” you huffed, your fingers curling against the wall as your body continued to bear down without your permission. 

“Hold on a bit longer— we need to get you to the car.” I tried to plead with you but I knew you were not the one in control here. We were at the mercy of Mother Nature. We played a dangerous game and I just hoped I could get you somewhere private. 

“I don’t know if I can make it—”

“What do you need darling? What do you want to do?” I groaned into your ear, my body flushed behind you, my hands still under your dress between your legs. 

“Nnnnghh— hold it in— while I push—” you spluttered as you widened your stance, preparing for another push.

My hand moved, cupping your womanhood with my palm. “I’ve got you baby— do what you need to do—” I could barely contain my excitement at what was happening. My body tensed in time with yours and I felt the bulge against my palm grow as you pushed, the first sliver of our baby starting to part you from within. 

“Keep going, my love, I won’t let them come out too fast.” 

Your sounds were deep and gravelled and primal, but not loud enough to draw the attention of anyone inside the venue. One… two… three grunting pushes against my palm and the baby hadn’t made much progress. Thankfully. 

“Ohhhh— okay— it’s passed—” you croaked, pushing yourself away from the wall and catching your breath. 

“Are you ready to try walking to the car again?” My hand moved up and down your lower back affectionately, keeping you supported. 

You nodded, running a hand over the full swell of your belly. “Yes, let’s keep moving. But we need to go slow… the head is right there, just inside of me.” 

Growling at your statement, I wrapped my arm around your waist to support you as we both walked slowly down the corridor. “I know darling, it’s really close. Our little one is very eager to meet us.” I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face, looking down at you with that full belly, your bow-legged walk, on the cusp of giving birth at any moment. 

We made it out of the venue but on the steps out the front of the building you abruptly stopped and grabbed the railing, bending your knees and grunting with an uncontrollable push. 

“Oh darling…” I quickly moved my hands to your hips to support you as your body bore down instinctively. “This one really is in a hurry. Just go with it, but we need to get you to the car soon.” 

You shuddered and almost mooed with the effort of your push, your body taking full control in this moment in a desperate bid to expel our baby from your womb. Over and over again you pushed. I couldn’t move my hands to check your progress, they were supporting all your weight at this moment. We were halfway down the steps outside the venue and nowhere near our car, a far cry from the privacy I wanted for our child’s birth. 

You grunted with each push, the sound sending all the blood in my body to my crotch. I knew from our previous births just how hard you were pushing, knowing the baby was probably slipping forward and back under your dress with each push. “Sweetheart…. Are we going to make it back to the car?” I asked nervously, feeling your knees bend a little more, your hips lowering slightly. 

“Nnnnnghhh—don’t know— it’s definitely— starting to c-c-c-crown—!” You groaned between pushes. 

When the contraction finished you were gasping for air as you twisted from the railing and sagged into my arms. “My…. My knickers… seem to be keeping the baby… from coming out….” Your voice was a caressed whisper against my chest. 

“You’re doing amazing, my love. You’re an incredible goddess.” I said, kissing the top of your head and holding you and your swollen belly against me. “Do you want to keep going? Or are we having this baby right here?” 

The look you gave me was filled with both pleasure and pain, your eyes glistening with dark enjoyment. “Let’s— keep going— I can hold them in….” 

I took this moment between contractions to feel your progress, my hands running from you hip down your leg and up under your dress. Your body shivered when I reached the apex of your thighs. 

“Are you sure about that, my love?” I asked with a teasing arch of my eyebrows as my fingers brushed over your underwear. “That’s not just you I can feel…. The baby’s head is really starting to crown.” 

“I- I know—” your words were breathy and husky, and I could tell you were feeling extremely full right now. 

“And you think you can walk all the way across the car park with a baby between your legs?” My fingers gently stroked circles on the soft flesh of your inner thigh. 

You nodded, but your face grimaced with another contraction and you started to pant against my chest, squeezing my shoulders. 

“You want to push again, don’t you sweetheart?” 

You nodded against me. 

“But you don’t want to give birth right here?” 

You shook your head. 

My hand then moved back over the partially crowned head in your underwear, cupping the sphere and holding it in place.

“Shhh… it’s okay I got you. Push baby…. You can push now….” I growled into your ear as I wrapped my arm around your waist while the other was cupped between your legs. “Push right against my hand— that’s it— I’ll keep you from crowning fully…” 

It felt like your entire body was quaking against me as you submitted to your body’s instincts and bore down right against my palm. The sounds you made were animalistic and feral, it was music to my ears. You pushed for another minute and a half, with each one I could feel the pressure from the baby’s head pressing more and more against my palm. Eventually you were released from the contraction, breathing heavily and barely able to stand. 

“Let’s…go….before…the…next one…comes…” you whispered, exhausted but clearly aroused. 

Together we walked slowly across the carpark, our car seemed like a mirage in the distance, but you were determined and I was more than happy to comply. I wondered how many times we would have to stop on the way, how many times I would need to cup your bulging lips, so you could have the birth you wanted in the comfort of our car. 

[bellyburdens]

Fast Bathroom Birth (tmpreg)

2k words

**Warning: fetish content** Contains graphic description of birth.

This one includes

Trans dad

Fast, unassisted birth

Fetal ejection reflex

Supportive partner

--

The contraction hits River like a truck. One second he's moaning deep, the next he's leaning over his lap on the toilet, crunching down with the hardest, deepest grunt, his body pushing on its own.

"AAAAAAAOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUWHHHHHH..."

It's so hard. His knees are together, feet pointed outwards. As his body continues to bear down and strain, he leans harder over his lap, his rock-hard belly touching his shaking thighs, his hands reaching back to grip the back of the toilet.

He can barely get a breath in before his body says it's time to push again, and push hard. He grunts even tighter, higher, his feet lifting off the floor as he squints at a spot on the wall.

"AAAAAOOOOOHHHHHH FFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKUHH!!!"

He pants, willing the acid in his stomach to stay down. "Oh, she's coming. She's coming, James I can't--" his voice cuts off into a really tight grunt as he feels James's hand on his back. "eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrr........"

"You're doing it, love, come on."

All he feels is fire. It feels like his entire body is being sucked down out of his hole, all the pressure in the world being concentrated in that tender spot. He can feel her head inside him, feel his body squeeeeze with all its might as she lowers through his pelvis. He can hear some fluid plop into the water past his own inhuman grunting, and he needs to breathe. He knows he needs to breathe but he can't stop it. The urge to push is so strong, it's overpowering him completely.

Then, quicker than ever comes the burning. That intense, all-encompassing fire as his baby's hard skull lowers and widens his tissue. Why do all of their babies have such big fucking heads?

He tries not to scream, but he just can't stop it. It's completely beyond his control as he leans more over his lap, gripping the toilet for dear life, knees coming up higher and feet off the floor, teeth bared and his eyes finally scrunching shut.

"OOOOOOUUUUUUUIT'URTSSOOBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDDDDD!!"

"Breathe, love!" James is saying. "Breathe."

But River can't! His body is locked in, locked down, he's pushing with every fucking muscle he has, feeling that huge head push just behind his tissue. He's going to fucking push her out into the toilet!

"SHE'SCOMING--OUT I'M PUSHINGHEROOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUT!!"

But it stops. Eventually, it has to. River is properly panting, burning and trembling everywhere. He widens his legs, puts a hand down there to feel. Her head is right there, already peeking out past his slit.

"Do you want to go on your hands and knees?" James asks him, taking his arm and supporting his trembling weight.

River just keeps panting and feeling, then wipes the blood on his fingers on his thigh. "I dunno. I dunno, I just need her out. I can't do it... I can't."

"Of course you can," James insists. "You're already doing it, baby, her head's right there."

Sooner than expected, he feels the urge again. He grips for James's sleeve with his bloody fingers, panting hard as his belly contracts inward.

"She's coming, she's coming," River pants, feeling himself start to bear down, feeling his muscles contract and open around her hard head. He needs to get upright.

James is only supporting half his weight and River is barely off the toilet seat, still standing with his knees bent low, but there's no time. He needs to push now. He's still grunting, trying not to panic, and he grips the back of James's shirt and his own thigh as his body locks in, belly going taut against him and all his muscles stiffening, and he gives a huge push down, dipping lower and stiffer.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRR" The grunt is guttural and wet, involuntary, as he bears down as hard and long as he can. Her head is a bowling ball in his pelvis, dropped low and stretching his tissue like hell. It feels like it's stretched to its limit, but he knows there's so much more to go. The pressure is intense. It's impossible to stop, and it feels like he's going to split in half if he keeps going. There's only one way out of this. He thinks he can get her head out on this one if he just pushes really, really hard.

He raises just a little as the push ebbs away, James scrambling to fix his grip on him -- he must be heavy -- but then he gears up to go right back. Reaches back to pull the bottom of his ass cheek open in the vain hope that it'll help make room for her head. He can feel his entire body shaking, his stiff legs especially, spread as wide open as he can get them. He's having trouble getting a grip with his foot on the floor.

With a hard and guttural involuntary "EUH---", River focuses all of his power on pushing down on that burning bowling ball. He starts to tip his head back as he bares his teeth, trembling with the force, still holding himself open and squatting a little deeper into the pressure as if that'll help pop her head out. He hears James's voice, but not the words. He knows he's not going to get her head out when he starts to feel that red hot desperation for air. Just a little more though, he can feel her slipping down, moving on out on her own, making his body keep hold of the push...

But right when he feels her move, he can't hold it anymore. His held air bursts out of him with a "DAH!" and he has no idea how long he held it.

James had bent his knees a little bit to keep them both upright. He's gripping River fiercely, trembling himself as River hears him saying, "Amazing, baby, you're right there."

River uses his hand behind himself to feel his perineum. He's stretched open, her heavy head peeking out. It bobs up and down just a little as he pants. He can feel her moving and dropping. She wants to come out. It's impossible to hold that pressure and burning. He can't wait. He needs to push her out.

With another guttural grunt, his body makes the choice for him. He feels his belly squeeze her down, and he leans down into it, lowering his pelvis a bit more so he's more or less sitting in the air, his stiff arm holding the underside of his thigh now, just near her descending head.

He hears himself grunt, tight and unrecognizable, "She'scom...."

He hears James encouraging him to push. Just a little more.

His grunt escapes into a guttural strain, and he feels himself bend down more. The pressure is insane. His face is burning, his body completely covered in sweat. It's dripping down his neck, the sides of his big hard belly, his thighs, his ankles.

He widens his legs more at the end of this push as far as they can go, legs trembling, putting a little more into it, as much as he possibly can for the final oompf, and his trembly strangled grunt bursts out of his teeth, "DHHR!!"

He can feel the burn as his stretched tissue bounces back up, her head hiding back. But with a quick feel, he can tell she's almost there.

"Come on, baby," he pants. "Come on, you can do it."

James helps him to his knees on a towel on the floor. He rushes around him, grabbing more towels, River thinks. He doesn't pay attention. He's too busy breathing, breathing, breathing. Just blowing air into that horrible burning and pressure, trying to keep open, trying not to clamp down on her head and suck her back inside.

"That's so good, Riv, keep doing it just like that," he hears James say eventually.

Between pressurized blows of air, River asks, "Howmuchisout?"

"Top of her head. She's coming in and out, you're gonna push her head out on the next

one, okay?"

"I'm trying... I'm trying."

"You will. You're doing it perfectly, babe, you just focus now."

He could feel her hard head going back in, taking away some of that intense burning. But then it hits him again, hard as hell. He can't hold on anymore. He has to just surrender, just let go. To hell with being scared of tearing. It's going to happen. He can't stop the urge.

He doesn't even have time to warn James, who's on his feet and running the tap, before he plants his palms on the tile floor and opens his legs as wide as he can with a massive, guttural grunt.

It's so powerful, he can't close his mouth. His belly touches the towel on the floor as he leans back and down, pushing his bottom into the floor with all the pressure in the world.

Holy fuck, the burning. It's opening, he knows, because he feels like he's going to rip wide open.

James is saying something, probably encouragement, but River can't hear the words. He just grunts, tipping his face closer to the floor, feeling like his face is going to fucking explode with all the pressure packed into it. No doubt he's red as a beet.

"UUUHHHHHHHH," he grunts it out, but she wants out right now. He can feel her squirm and turn inside him, helping him but oh, the pain is horrible. He puts his hand over her emerging head as he leans back and bears down again, grunting tight and loud, "SHE'S CROWNIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGUUURRRRGGGGGGGHHH...."

"She is, you've got it, one more."

River shoves down again, determined to push her whole head out on this one. His baby is almost out. It's almost over. He just needs to put in this last bit of effort for her, just needs to be strong.

He gives his baby back-to-back pushes, not even sure if he's still having a contraction anymore. It all hurts like hellfire and he needs her out NOW. His hand is still holding her scalp, so he feels every hard shove as he puts absolutely everything he has into pushing her out, using every muscle in his body and opening, opening, opening.

He can feel James's hands around her crown, can feel a warm towel he has pressed there, and he braces himself for each hard push, bearing down down down into that warm pressure, into his husband's hands. James has them both. It's just them. He can fully let go, can trust James completely.

Push, push, push, River barely makes a sound. Or maybe he does but he can't hear himself anymore. He just clenches down and feels that big hard head stretching him more more, a little more each time. He's locked in. This is it. This is the last of it, and she needs his effort now.

He hears James tell him that he's at her eyes. River is fully primal, straining down so hard as his whole body trembles. He can't give her the chance to suck back in, not now. He has to push her through that threshold. All other thoughts besides PUSH leave his mind as he bears down as hard as he possibly can with singleminded focus, concentrating fully on the burn and stretch as he feels his tissues peel back over her nose.

One more breath in, opening his legs as wide as they can go, his hand feeling the globe of her head, her wet hair, and he shoves back into James's hands completely silent.

He feels her head pop out almost instantly, the quickest sharpest burn, and there's the relief. Fluid is dripping to the towel, down River's arm as he's still holding her head. Panting and shouting, River feels her head before he needs to put both hands on the floor and brace himself. He's still contracting, harder this time. It's the last bit of strength, the final push, the final stretch. He's leaving blood on the floor under his hand. He can hear James sobbing and sniffling with joy and anxiety. For him, for their girl, River has to make this count.

Mouth wide open, River roars with all his God-given strength, giving their baby the hardest push of his life. His mind detaches from his body as he feels her shoulder pop down and stretch him open.

He can see himself as if he's looking at someone else, on his knees on the floor, spread wide open, his t-shirt rucked up over his muscular back as he spreads his arms out and holds them open across the floor, his chin practically on the tiles and his face completely red and shiny as he makes an inhuman sound through his clenched teeth. And his baby's head fully out, James's hands holding beneath her so gently. Her neck is out, the rest of her coming slowly and steadily with River's strength. James doesn't pull at all. She comes out with River's final push alone.

Her body is soft and wiggly. With that final brutal push, she shoots out into James's hands and the towel he holds. River releases his air and his strength in a loud, breathy grunt. His body wants to collapse, but he has to make sure she's okay. He has to hear her cry.

"James," he pants, "Oh, oh, oh God!"

"She's okay, Riv, she's trying to cry!"

River tries to turn, and James helps him. He sits up, his back against James's chest, as James passes him their baby through his legs. James helps him lift up his t-shirt, now soiled, so their baby can feel his skin.

There she is. She's pink, her hair as wet and dark as her siblings. She's shrieking, her gummy mouth wide open. The shape of her head is practically round, not coned.

"That was so fast," River cries. "Fuck, I thought I was going to die!" He properly sobs then, and James kisses him, crying himself. Together they cradle their daughter against his chest.

"You did it on your own," James says against his face. "I knew you could. My God, Riv, your strength. You are no-nonsense."

River laugh-sobs, and they turn their attention to their baby.

[bellyburdens]

Imagine coming home and seeing your partner like this, she couldn’t get to the phone to call you, she had an upset stomach and thought she needed a poo but turns out it was actually the baby.

[bellyburdens]

Oh to be on display while birthing and to be told not to push, but have my nipples stimulated and clit played with....but no pushing 😍😍😍

[bellyburdens]

[bellyburdens]

[bellyburdens]

Birth encouragement lines I’ve never actually heard but would make me so hot if I ever did hear them:

“Keep your legs spread wide open so we can all see.”

“Oh, honey. I know you’re squirting everywhere. It’s okay. It’s normal. Birth is messy.”

“On the next contraction I need you to scream as loud as you can and get this head to crown.”

“It’s okay if you pee during birth. Accidents happen. Just focus on pushing out your baby.”

[bellyburdens]

Discovery (Jeremiah's POV - N S F W)

A/N: This is N S F W, it is emeto-kink. Read at your own risk. So this is the other half of this fic, told from Jeremiah's POV. I followed the first story as closely as I could, so even though there were times I wanted to change or add the original dialogue, I didn't. Soon I'll write the couple's first time experimenting with their kink. I thought for a long time about how I'd show Jeremiah's feelings about his kink, and I'm happy with how this turned out. He's been hiding this secret for a long time.

Drew belched into fist and gave a small sigh of relief. “Sorry,” he said, giving Jeremiah an adorably sheepish grin.  “I think maybe I ate dinner too fast.” 

Jeremiah froze, feeling his face grow hot. He told himself it was just because his new boyfriend was so cute; but the thrum of panic that immediately followed wasn’t so easy to explain away. What the hell?  

He hoped his response sounded casual and unconcerned.  “Don’t worry about it, love.”  His voice was calm; that was good. Drew nodded and smiled again and Jeremiah quickly asked for the check.

And maybe that would have been the end of it, but Drew shuffled in his seat and Jeremiah couldn’t tear his eyes away from the tightness around his mouth and the way his hand palmed the side of his stomach.  He looked uncomfortable.  And Jeremiah was a medical student; he couldn’t ignore it, could he? He studied Drew for a moment, debating, before carefully asking.  “Are you, uhh, feeling okay?”

There was an odd catch in his voice he hoped wasn’t obvious, but then Drew burped again and the heat in Jeremiah’s face traveled lower.  Now he was the one shifting uncomfortably.

Drew gave him a small smile.  “I think so?” 

Jeremiah took a deep breath. This was his and Drew’s tenth official date, and until now, Jeremiah had loved how quickly their relationship was gaining traction.   It had been four months since he’d been assigned to watch over the same post-operative patient whose care Drew was managing.  And four days less than four months since their first date at L’etoile, a date that had lasted into the early hours of the morning and yet didn’t even involve them falling into bed together. That had come at the end of date three, when Jeremiah had finally gotten the courage to admit that he’d never had fully penetrating sex with a man before. Drew hadn’t teased or been shocked or made Jeremiah feel like he was a challenge to be taken.  Instead he’d made Jeremiah feel cared for, and curious, and amazing and fucking transported, and oh my god he was grateful for not letting Adam Calder talk him into losing his virginity with him. His first time had been with Drew and as far as Jeremiah was concerned, it had been perfect. And only gotten better since then.

There hadn’t been a day since when the two men didn’t send each other a dozen texts throughout the day, or meet for lunch at the hospital, or spend way too many hours on FaceTime when they probably should be sleeping.

They’d already seen each other cry, and get angry, and stressed, and act silly and stupid and blissfully happy.  This was his boyfriend (and damn, he loved saying that), surely he could behave himself when his boyfriend had a stomach ache.  Drew was a nurse, after all, and Jeremiah only eighteen months away from becoming a doctor.  He certainly didn’t feel this way around his patients; why should it be any different around the man he was pretty sure he was falling in love with?

Drew interrupted his thoughts by putting his hand on Jeremiah’s arm.  “It’s nothing; just a bit of indigestion,” he promised. 

Oh fuck.  

That sentence did something to him, as much as he wanted to deny it, and Jeremiah nodded stiffly.  The smart thing to do would be to end the date now and suggest Drew go home before things . . . well, before.  Jeremiah needed some time to think, and figure out what he was going to do about this . . . development.  There was no way he’d be able to think clearly if Drew was there, burping and rubbing his stomach and making Jeremiah feel so unbalanced.  

He took a deep breath.  “Well if not, let . . . let me know and I can take you home.”  That’s where he should have stopped, but his stupid mouth, fueled by his stupid, horny brain, kept going. “Or we could, uhh, go back to my place since it’s closer.  If you think you need a . . . bathroom or something.”

He tried very hard not to think about Drew needing to be draped over a toilet in a bathroom.  Damn, this was supposed to be a fun night for them, spending time together..  His and Drew’s schedules didn’t align as much as they wanted (or as much as their bodies demanded), and now Jeremiah was about to ruin it all.  

He’d assumed they’d end up in bed together tonight. If Jeremiah had a normal brain and Drew wasn’t feeling well, it wouldn’t have been a problem.  They didn’t have to do anything physical, and Jeremiah would have been just as happy, spending time taking care of his ill boyfriend.  But Drew had a stomach ache and Jeremiah’s thoughts were a mess and his body was acting up and now something as innocent as cuddling was fraught with . . . 

Jeremiah managed to push those thoughts aside when Drew easily agreed to his hesitant suggestion that they get ice cream.  It was a test and Drew passed; he must be feeling okay, to be eating dessert, and Jeremiahs’ rapidly beating heart and tingling limbs gradually slowed back to normal. 

It was okay. It was fluke; he’d been surprised, that’s all.  He’d do better next time.  This wasn’t a problem. His secret was safe.

And then Drew dropped his half-eaten cone into a garbage can and let out a wet burp that went straight to Jeremiah’s groin.  He gulped down a sound, trying to look casually concerned.  

“My stomach is upset; I’m sorry,” Drew explained, and there was an undercurrent of discomfort in his tone. “I think maybe it’s more than just eating too fast.”  He grimaced, and Jeremiah’s entire body erupted with goosebumps. 

He took a steadying breath.

“Why are you sorry?”  They’d been walking side by side, eating their ice cream, and now Jeremiah stopped under a streetlight and let himself peer at Drew’s face. The man was pale, and breathing very deliberately, in and out.  Tiny beads of sweat dotted his upper lip and it took all of Jeremiah’s willpower not to reach out and wipe them away.  He may have only been a third-year medical student, but he recognized nausea when he saw it.  But he didn’t know why Drew was apologizing. 

Drew gave a sheepish shrug.

“I don’t know.  I guess because I’m not feeling well and it’s interrupting our time together.”  His stomach took that moment to gurgle and he laid his hand across it and rubbed lightly.

Jeremiah had to bite the inside of his cheek before answering.  He probably wants to go home; don’t make this difficult.  But something in Drew’s expression made him hesitate. The words spilled out of his mouth before he could think any more.

“Do you want to go home then? I mean, we’re close to my place if you wanted to just go relax there.  I uhh, don’t mind if we have a quiet night in.”  Drew burped again and Jeremiah’s breath caught.  Don’t ignore his symptoms; be a doctor, Gable!  He gave Drew a sympathetic grimace and finally asked the question he wanted to. “Are you nauseated?” 

Drew gave a small nod.  “A little, yeah,” he sighed. “I can’t tell if something isn’t agreeing with me or if I’m coming down with a bug of some sort.” 

Gastrointestinal illnesses were always circulating at the hospital and Jeremiah tried to remember if any of the nurses he worked with had been out recently. Drew swallowed hard, and Jeremiah considered that the bottle of wine they’d shared at dinner couldn’t be helping things.

He suddenly realized he was staring. He lifted one hand towards Drew’s face and then stopped, uncertain.  “May I?” he asked finally.  “I know I’m not a nurse but I can probably figure out if you have a fever.” He couldn’t hold back a small smile.  He was okay; he could do this.  

To his relief, Drew chuckled.  “I’m glad they’re teaching you something useful in medical school.  Go ahead and feel me up then.”  He smirked. “Only my forehead though.  At least while we’re in public.” 

Jeremiah blew out a breath.  He wasn’t yet very good at making sexual innuendos but at least they were on more comfortable ground now. He smiled and then gently rested his hand against Drew’s forehead, and then moved it to his cheek, leaving it cupped there when Drew leaned his head against it. They stood there, swaying together slowly, and Jeremiah felt a surge of affection for the man in his arms.  It made him feel bold.

“If you’re feeling better later maybe I can, uhh, feel up other things,” he mumbled.  He felt his cheeks flame again but that was to be expected, right?  He should be able to make normal suggestive comments to his boyfriend.  It wasn’t weird. 

He leaned in and pressed his lips against Drew’s forehead. “You feel a little warm but not too bad,” he pronounced.  “I  uhh, have Pepto at my apartment, if you want to try it.  If it helps then we’ll know it’s likely food related.”  Yes, this was good; he sounded properly medical and rational. He didn’t say what he really wanted, about what they’d do if the Pepto didn’t work. He wouldn’t - couldn’t - let his mind go there.

“Luring me back to your place with the promise of . . . hic . . .over-the-counter meds?” Drew teased through a queasy hiccup.  “That’s a pickup line I haven’t heard yet.”  

And just like that, Jeremiah was flustered again.  He shuffled his feet on the sidewalk.  “I can get you a taxi, if you’d rather.”  He gazed at Drew uncertainly.  “I uhh, know that some people like to be alone when they aren’t feeling well, but I umm, don’t mind if you want to come over.” He and Drew had actually gotten sick in front of each other once, with twin hangovers barely a month into their relationship.  They’d both been too miserable to do much more than collapse together on the sofa after they were done throwing up.

Jeremiah hadn’t been even the slightest bit aroused that night. He’d concluded with relief that he was done with that part of his life, now that he had Drew. That had been something for the Jeremiah who was trying to figure out his sexuality. Now that he had, those old thoughts were finished. 

Or so he’d thought.  But now Drew was gulping and his adam’s apple was bobbing and Jeremiah was so turned on he could barely breathe. 

He managed to keep himself together, but the urge to touch his boyfriend - even platonically - was too strong.  He trailed his hand down Drew’s cheek and rested it on his shoulder, trying not to shiver.  “I’ll understand if you just want to go home,” he added softly.  

Drew shook his head so gingerly Jeremiah knew he was dizzy.  

“I don’t . . . want to go home.”  He gave a small, apologetic shrug.  “I’m not going to be much fun though.”  His stomach gurgled and he put his fist to his mouth to muffle the belch that came up.  It was deep and wet and he spit onto the sidewalk - and it was more than just saliva. He gulped down and found Jeremiah’s eyes. “See?” 

That was it.  It was obvious Drew was sick and Jeremiah lived close.  It made sense to take him there; it would be irresponsible not to.  He tugged the man’s hand until he started walking, still hiccupping under his breath.  “Feeling worse then?” he asked, almost conversationally.   “I’m three blocks away; do you think you can make it?”  He didn’t add that they really didn’t have a lot of other options, and if he was pulling Drew along harder than he should, it was only to get him off the street and someplace comfortsble before he felt even worse.

Drew gulped down again before answering.  “Yeah, don’t worry.  I’m nauseous but it’s not bad enough to throw up.”  

Jeremiah was beginning to doubt that, but then Drew snuggled into his side, which Jeremiah took as an invitation to carefully wrap an arm around his waist. He could feel Drew’s stomach bubbling under his hand and it was all he could do not to press his palm against it. But then Drew spoke. 

 “Maybe you can give me a belly rub or something.”

The man’s voice was light, but Jeremiah’s entire body tingled, and he was sure Drew heard his breath hitch. He stumbled over a non-existent crack in the sidewalk and tried to get his bearings.

“I . . . could do that,” he agreed in a thin voice. A belly rub? Only if his head - or other parts -  didn’t explode first.  His arm tightened around Drew’s waist.  “I just want you to feel better.”  

“Me too,” Drew agreed.  He stopped walking suddenly.  

Jeremiah froze too.  Is he going to vomit?  What do I do if he vomits?  He tried to imagine Drew was just another one of his patients.  He’d just finished a rotation in the ER, where it seemed like not even a day went by with someone throwing up.  It hadn’t bothered him at all.  But this was entirely different. He sucked in a deep breath, bracing himself for his boyfriend to lose his dinner and how he was going to respond.

 “Gimme a second; gotta . . . burp,” Drew stuttered instead.  He leaned forward and forced down some air before burping softly a couple of times.  Then he shuddered a let out a weak gag, clearly miserable, and instinctively, Jeremiah stepped forward and put his hand on his back.  

“I’ve got you; don’t fight it.”  Jeremiah began patting, lightly at first and then a little more firmly until Drew finally managed a deep belch.  He spit at the end, and Jeremiah saw his jaw tighten with an aborted heave.  

“Thank you,” he gasped.  “I really needed that.”  

“Glad . . . glad I could help then.”  Jeremiah’s voice was calm, he thought, but he couldn’t hold back the waver in it, or prevent the goosebumps that were making his entire body tingle. 

They started walking again.  Drew kept burping softly under his breath to try to keep the nausea at a manageable level, and Jeremiah silently repeated the steps of a neurological exam in his head to try to keep his body from giving him away.  

The quiet was broken by Drew.

“Sorry I’m being so gross,” he said finally.  ‘I’m pretty sick to my stomach.”  

Drew looked sideways at Jeremiah, and for a wild second Jeremiah thought that he knew, but he realized he was just checking in to make sure he was still okay taking his obviously sick boyfriend back to his apartment.  As if he had to ask . . .

“Not feeling better?”  It was a dumb question but they were approaching the front of Jeremiah’s apartment, and he heard Drew give a tiny sigh.  He shook his head.

“Not really, no,” he admitted. “I may actually have to lose that lovely dinner we shared earlier.”  He burped into his fist. “It doesn’t seem to want to stay down.”  

Jeremiah couldn’t stop his  hand from jerking convulsively in Drew’s grip. Arousal coursed through him and he made a sound, low in his throat.  Drew was sick to his stomach. Drew felt like he was going to vomit. Holy hell.  And now it was too late to try to send the man home, not that Jeremiah wanted to. “Oh that’s . . . umm . . . I’m sorry,” he stuttered.

His voice sounded strained, even to himself.  “Do you need to vomit right now?”  Before he realized what he was doing he brushed his free hand down the front of his khaki’s. Desire and need were mixed equally with panic and he had no idea what to do.  

His body felt like it wasn’t his own and his brain was on fire and he was about to lose everything if he couldn’t pull himself together. So he had to pull himself together and he had to ignore the fact that one of his stupid, perverted, ridiculous sexual fantasies seemed to be coming true.  He hadn’t thought about them in over four months, and never about Drew, and the swiftness at which it all roared back was unnerving.  But they were inside his building now, and Jeremiah had only a few minutes to figure out how to care for his boyfriend without making a complete cake of things between them. 

Drew’s voice, thick with nausea, interrupted Jeremiah’s silent battle.

“I . . . I don’t need to throw up yet,” he managed, and Jeremiah dug his fingernails into his palm.

Drew followed him into the elevator and to the man’s shock, as soon as the doors closed, Drew pushed him against the wall and leaned in as if to kiss him, and there was no way Jeremiah could hide the fact that he was hard.  

Drew’s eyes flew open in surprise.  “Oh . . . sweetheart,” he gulped.  “I’m so sorry, but I don’t think I can do much about . . . uhrrp . . . that right now.”  For some reason Jeremiah couldn’t follow, Drew dropped  his hand down between them anyway until  Jeremiah grabbed his wrist and stopped him.  He had no idea why Drew had tried to kiss him when he was obviously feeling so awful, but it clearly wasn’t because he had any idea what was going on in Jeremiah’s brain right now and wanted to indulge that. 

“Don’t,” he said, more harshly than he meant.  “I’m not . . . I didn’t mean . . . oh fuck.”  The elevator doors slid open and he quickly turned away and rushed out.

Drew followed him slowly.  “Sweetheart?  It’s okay, really,” he called out, but Jeremiah kept walking until a grunt behind him made him whirl around.

Drew was bent over, hands braced on his knees and breathing heavily.  

“Fuck.  It’s not your . . . are you . . . ?” He walked back to the man and touched his back.  “Can you make it inside?  Just a few more steps.”  At least the urgency of the moment had given Jeremiah some focus.  He briskly unlocked the door while Drew sucked in a deep, slow breath and then slowly straightened up.  

 “I’m . . . I’m okay,” he gasped.  He burped suddenly.  “I mean, I’m really nauseous, but I’m not . . . ugh . . . I can wait.”  

Jeremiah stood frozen, watching his boyfriend pant and struggle and wholly unsure what to do.   He was still aroused, damn it, and Drew could obviously see it.  At this point he was so hot he was surprised his body hadn’t combusted, but right now he had to help Drew before he vomited all over the floor..  

“That’s not important,” he said firmly.  “Let’s get you in front of a toilet.”  He began ushering Drew down the hall to the apartment’s only bathroom.  The nurse was making pained sounds as if he wanted to say something, but it was clear he was almost beyond being able to talk.  That suited Jeremiah just fine. Hopefully Drew would get sick once or twice, fall asleep, and then Jeremiah would have time to figure out some sort of excuse for his behavior that didn’t result in the man walking out of his life.

As soon as they got into Jeremiah’s bathroom Drew retched so harshly that Jeremiah wondered how he’d been holding it down. 

“Oh god, he groaned, leaning heavily on Jeremiah to lower himself to the ground and spitting into the water.  “I really do not feel well.”  He rocked back and forth, panting in a way Jeremiah knew was meant to induce him to vomit as quickly as possible. 

“I know you don’t, sweetheart.  It’s okay.”  He couldn’t not help; Drew was clearly miserable, and for the moment, Jeremiah’s need to comfort his boyfriend overcame everything else he was feeling.  Carefully, he knelt down behind the sick man and grasped the tops of Drew’s arms to offer support. 

Drew burped hollowly over the bowl, and when nothing came up immediately, fell suddenly back into Jeremiah’s lap.

Jeremiah grunted with surprise but he couldn’t have controlled the rest of his reaction if he’d tried. Before he knew what had happened, he’d  moved against Drew, pressing into his back and grasping at his hips.  Drew let out a nauseous chuckle.  

“I can’t believe you still want . . . me, even though I’m about to puke.”  He burped again, wet and deep.  

There was half a second where Jeremiah thought he might be able to escape this.  Drew still didn’t realize anything. Jeremiah could back off, apologize, and tell Drew that of course he didn’t want to do anything while he was sick.  

But then Drew gagged and Jeremiah tingled all over.  He sucked in a shaky, audible breath and squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his face heat up. In front of him, he felt when Drew twisted around.

“Sweetheart?” Drew touched his cheek and Jeremiah knew he had to say something.  

“I’m . . . sorry,” he mumbled.  “This is so . . . oh god I’m sorry.”  He pushed himself backwards so he wasn’t touching Drew anymore.  “I should be taking care of you and instead I’m . . . “  His hands twisted as he tried to explain the secret he’d kept since he was a child.  “I’m not like this with anyone . . . with my patients.  I just . . . I can’t . . . “  He finally opened his eyes and met Drew’s, expression tortured.  “I’m so sorry.”  He choked out half a sob.

He could see it on Drew’s face when it clicked. 

 “it’s okay. . . Jer . . . it’s okay,” he gasped, before burping so deeply his body shook.   

“Sorry,” he mumbled, turning quickly back to the toilet and bracing his arms on the seat.  “I’m going to . . .” his words were lost in a burping retch and Drew vomited up his dinner.  He gasped and spit, and then to Jeremiah’s shock, reached one hand blindly behind him as he threw up again.  

Jeremiah stared at that hand for what seemed like an eternity before grabbing it and then , rubbing the other up and and down Drew’s back as he heaved.  “I’ve got you,” he said, feeling oddly calm. There was nothing he could do about it, and Drew needed him, at least for the moment.  “Just . . . get it all up and then you can lie down.” 

Drew swayed over the bowl, spitting, and then finally let his ass fall heavily onto the tile floor.  Jeremiah silently handed him a wad of toilet paper to wipe his mouth and then backed away again.  How could he have let this happen?  What the fuck was wrong with him, that after years of denying everything about himself he’d finally found happiness and then ruined it all in one night?  His eyes prickled and he squeezed them shut again.  

He would not cry over this.  He’d stay calm, and comfort Drew for as long as he needed, and admit what a disgusting person he was, and then, and then . . . he just didn’t know..

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was Drew’s panting breaths as he tried to calm his stomach.  Jeremiah stared at the floor, waiting to say the words that would end things, when Drew reached out a shaky hand to lift his chin.  “Hey,” he croaked.  “Look at me.”  

Jeremiah shook his head.  “I’m so sorry,” he mumbled.  “I never meant. . . I thought I could . . .” he finally lifted his face to Drew’s.  “I’ll understand if this . . . changes things.  Or if you want to . . . not see me anymore.”  He twisted his hands together, wishing he could somehow freeze time, that he could stay Drew’s boyfriend for just a little while longer, even if it was no longer real.

To his shock, Drew scoffed. 

 “You think I’d break up with you over a kink?” he asked.  “Fuck, Jeremiah, that’s not how this works.”  He shook his head.  “I know we haven’t talked about this kind of thing yet but I figured it was coming, as you got more comfortable with your sexuality”  He shrugged, and Jeremiah felt a flicker of something . . . not horrible. He waited, letting Drew think this through at his own pace.  

“So . . .you’re into what, vomit?”  When Jeremiah gave a tiny nod he burped softly into his fist and then waved away Jeremiah’s look of concern.  “I’m fine,” he said impatiently.  “Well, not exactly fine, but I’m not about to spill my guts again.”  He reached out and grabbed Jeremiah’s hand.  “This is important.”  He squeezed.  “How long?”

Jeremiah took a deep, shuddering breath. He’d never spoken about this with anyone before and now the words spilled out of him like a confession and he was seeking absolution. “Longer than since I’ve realized I’m gay.  A lot longer.”  He shrugged.  “I don’t know how to describe it, but I’ve always been . . . aroused by . . . I don’t know.”  He wrung his hands together.  “The thought of someone feeling sick, and trying not to get sick.  And I get to take care of them.”  He met Drew’s eyes again, determined to be absolutely honest.  “I have not been thinking about this with you; I swear.  All the times we’ve been together and everything we’ve done . . . it’s been amazing, and I wasn’t secretly hoping you’d get nauseated or anything.  And it doesn’t happen with my patients, not at all.  It’s always just been something private to think about.”  

Now that he was talking, Jeremiah couldn’t stop.  If Drew was going to somehow accept this, he needed to know it all. “I didn’t think it would happen with you, or . . . I thought I could hide it.”  He flushed again.  “And then tonight you burped, and told me your stomach was upset, and I . . . “ I couldn’t help it.” He raised his hands helplessly.  There was so much more to explain, but Drew’s expression was growing uncomfortable again so Jeremiah stopped talking to give him space. The man gulped nauseously and then burped, looking pensive. 

“I meant it when I said it’s okay,” he said finally, and even about to vomit again,  it was obvious he meant it.  Jeremiah’s heart thumped so firmly he was surprised Drew couldn’t hear it. 

Drew swallowed hard.  “I could tell that it’s got a big . . . urhhrp . . . caretaking piece to it for you, right?”  He leaned forward and spit into the toilet.  “I’m going to puke again soon,” he warned. Jeremiah gave a watery chuckle.

“That’s okay.  I mean, of course it’s okay, even if I wasn’t . . . you know.”  He began rubbing up and down Drew’s back again.  “I guess I thought it might go away once I started having more . . . normal sexual experiences, you know?  But I guess it didn’t.”

Drew huffed with amusement.  “Oh sweetheart,” he gasped, belching hard and rising back up onto his knees so he could lean over the bowl..  “I hope that nothing we do counts as ‘normal sexual experiences,’ okay?”  He turned his head to find Jeremiah.  “We’re just getting started, okay?” 

For the first time since Drew had burped way back at dinner, Jeremiah allowed himself to smile. Maybe he wasn’t about to get broken up with, after all.  And if Drew wanted him to keep this . . . kink . . . just to himself, well Jeremiah could do that.  He’d do whatever the man in front of him asked. 

But then Drew retched again and gasped out.  “When . . . when you were behind me.  I didn’t mind it,” and Jeremiah felt an entirely new level of desire shoot through him.  Biting back a grin now, he snaked a hand around his boyfriend’s waist and gently palmed his stomach.  “Come on, love,” he said gently, feeling relief more than anything.  “Get it up and you’ll feel better.”  

He felt it when Drew’s stomach rolled, and wasn’t sure whose body was tingling more.  “Okay,” he gasped.  “Gonna puke now.”  He lurched forward and did just that, gagging and retching and spitting until he seemed nearly wrung out. Jeremiah caught him, and gave in, chasing the pleasure until he shuddered with a climax he’d never imagined in his wildest dreams.  

Drew chuckled softly and turned his head to press a sticky kiss into Jeremiah’s bicep.  “Can I brush my teeth?” he asked blearily. “Before we kiss?”

Jeremiah hadn’t imagined Drew would want to kiss.

“Yes please.”  He slowly helped Drew  to his feet and held him while he rinsed his mouth and splashed water on his face.  “I’m not really into the actual vomit, you know?” He began pulling off his pants and underwear, blushing, but feeling pleased and content and shy and eager.  But Drew was nearly swaying with exhaustion and that was all Jeremiah focused on.  “Do you think you’re ready to lie down?  I'll bring a bucket.”

“Wait.”  Drew turned in Jeremiah’s arms.  He touched his cheek and looked him in the eyes.  “I love you.”  They’d never said it before, and Jeremiah’s eyes went wide.  “And I know this is probably a ridiculous time to say it, and you don’t have to say it back, but . . . you trusted me with something tonight and I wanted you to know that I . . .”

“I love you too; I love you so much,” Jeremiah interrupted, and he felt like his grin was going to split his face.  “And I’ve been wanting to say it, but I was worried it was too soon, or that all . . . this, might change things.”  He put his hand on Drew’s cheek.  “But I really love you.”  

Drew blew out a breath and lay his head on Jeremiah’s chest.  “I’ve been wanting to say it for a while too,” he admitted.  “And I’m glad I did.”  He tilted his head back.  “I love you.”

Jeremiah gently touched his lips to Drew’s.  If this was a virus, he was absolutely going to get it, but he didn’t care at all.  He had no idea how he’d feel if he was the one getting sick, but now it seemed like he was going to have all the time in the world to find out.

[bellyburdens]

You know what's hot? Pregnant people trying to fit into their pre-pregnant bras. 🥵 Their tits just overflowing out of the cups is just *chefs kiss*

[bellyburdens]

Yes a birth where the carrier is turned on is hot, however a birth where shes in pain and struggling is so much hotter 🩷

[bellyburdens]

Belly expansion and hyper pregnancy will always have a place in my ♥️♥️♥️ do you like enormous bellies?

[bellyburdens]

Birth Quickie 3:

Bathroom

It was so embarrassing to be caught like this.

I was sitting in the bathroom, shirt sticking to me with sweat, hair a mess. I felt like I was dying, trying not to gulp in desperate gasps of air. I was burning up, my whole body working so hard, and for what? I told Dad making his nachos for us was gonna upset my stomach, and now here I was.

My eyes closed, I prayed nobody walked in. My belly had been cramping so hard all morning, and I had been in the middle of class when I realized I had to go, it wasn't an option anymore. At first I just needed it a little bit, I thought I could last until the break. But then a bad cramp hit and I barely fought back the pressure inside me, that urge to go right then and there. I’d have just died if I’d done that in front of the whole class, I’d never live it down.

I let out a low moan, trying to stay as quiet as I could. Mom and dad always told me not to push when I went, but that wasn't an option anymore. I needed this out of me, now. I found myself lifting my feet to tippy toes and spreading my legs wide as I pushed with everything I had, face scrunching and an ugly, guttural grunt of force ripping out of me.

The thought never occured to me that spreading my legs like this might be making it more difficult to poop. It just felt right, in a way I couldn't understand. I didn't hold back, bearing down, and I felt something moving inside me. My eyes went wide as the tone of my grunt changed, feeling some mass deep inside starting to barrel through me. It was huge… stretching me… it hurt so bad, this was a nightmare, but I couldn't stop pushing!

There was so much pressure. I could barely breathe, this thing was giant! I had a little time to try to gather myself between cramps, but I could feel the next brewing. God. What has happening to me? Was I… dying? Was I gonna pass away sitting on the toilet like some rock star my parents would tell me about?!

Oh fuck, I needed to push again! This proved it, I was dying, I could feel it. My insides were coming right out of me, it was way too big, like my whole uterus was just sliding down my vagina! The pain was unimaginable, my vision was blurring, I couldn't breathe. That deep, primal grunt was forcing out of me again, I couldn't stop it, couldn't be quiet if I tried.

I felt a hideous pressure just behind my crotch as the cramping ended. I reached down, touched, and was horrified my what my fingertips found. It was all so hard, straining forward, the whole shape of my most intimate place was changed grotesquely. I thought I was using the bathroom??? What the hell was happening to me?!

Sweat dripped from my face, tears mingling with it. Everything was just hurting and straining and changing, this wasn't right, wasn't fair. I cursed my Dad for doing this to me, still believing this was somehow the fault of dinner. Some horrific indigestion. I couldn't imagine what else this could possibly be, what other nightmare I could be enduring right now.

Another horrific cramp came, and I gave into my instincts completely. There was no choice in the matter, not anymore. My body was doing this on its own, and I tried to make peace with myself, accept that my heart was about to slide out of my own vagina somehow. It must be some kind of curse, I knew I shouldn't have been so mean to the home ec teacher, everyone knew she was some kind of witch and-

The pain was so bad! My teeth were grit as I pushed. My hand hadn’t moved, so I could feel my lips starting to spread. It burned, more and more, as my organs finally began to peek out of my privates. I could feel it under my fingers. Wet, slimy. Disgusting. And… hairy? My heart wasn't hairy? Or my uterus. This didn't make any sense. I couldn't understand it.

I didn't have long to think. I opened wider. Wider. The thing emerging from inside me was so big, I felt like it was about to split me in two. I couldn't fight it, my body was following some deep, primal instinct and there was no chance I could fight this need off. It was coming out. I felt the hairy mass open me so far, my poor vagina burning like it was on fire, until I felt a weird wrinkle of flesh… almost like an… ear? Or a… nose… oh god…

Suddenly a rush of motion, and I groaned, sagging back. Fluid poured out of me and into the toilet. Something slimy, coated with my juices, was hanging between my thighs, touching them. I held my legs as wide as I could, repulsed by the sensation. I couldn't see what it was under my skirt, and I didn't want to move it to look, terrified of what it would be. The word “cryptic” kept blinking in my mind, like some kind of alarm I couldn't find the button to turn off. Important, yet completely meaningless.

I gripped the toilet. My insides were flexing. I could feel this mass turning inside me. It felt so wrong, somehow completely different than everything leading to this moment. I just tried to hold on, to let this happen, not break down in sobs of terror and pain. I just wanted this over with, I barely even cared if I died now.

God. It was back. I had to push again. I had to push so bad, I was already doing it before I realized I had to. Somehow this bit was even bigger… but it was moving. Coming out. I could feel I was close. Right on the cusp of the end, just this last… big… puuushhh!!!

Something happened. The rest of the thing, I could only describe it as slithering out of me in a rush of slippery, slimy skin. It fell into the toilet, as I sat, panting, vision blurring, trying to make myself think. To start being a person again, something more than just a glorified ball of base instincts and pain and fear.

Hesitantly, I leaned forward. Pulled my skirt back, looking down. As it came into view, my brain finally realized what that word “cryptic” had to do with any of this.

We talked about it in health class. One of the girls had heard about it from some relative. A cryptic pregnancy was when your belly barely grew, if at all, and there were few to no definitive symptoms that you were growing a life inside you. It was possible to carry a baby to term and even give birth without realizing you were pregnant.

The newborn baby, still connected to me by the umbilical cord hanging out from between my legs, started to cry.

[bellyburdens]

A semi-conscious character being bridal carried- weak enough to necessitate being carried and unable to hang on securely enough for a piggy-back, but able and aware enough to have one arm loosely looped 'round their carrier's neck and the other hand tremulously clutching at their shirt-front, head lolling but able to tilt it into the carrying character's shoulder, holding on just enough to keep from being a deadweight.

[bellyburdens]

I’m asking you to put your age in your bio (FAQ)

What does that mean? Your age should be visible in your blog description or blog title. I’m not asking you to tell me your age by sending me a private message, I want to be able to see it on your blog. Do I have to share my exact age? If you prefer not to share your exact age, it’s also okay use a description like “20 something years old”, “in my 40′s”, “25 < my age < 30″, “born in the 80s” or your birth year. However, “18+” does not count as an age since it’s too vague and can also just be used as a synonym for NSFW. Why do I have to share my age? Because this is an NSFW blog and I want to try my best to make sure no minors are following me. Also, I prefer knowing a bit more (basic info!) about the people who are following me than just their kinks. Why don’t you just ask me? It’s a hell lot of work to keep sending everyone private messages just to ask for their age. If it’s easy to reply with a message, then I’m sure you can change your blog description too. Also, I’m sure I’m not the only NSFW blog you decided to follow, and many others want you to put your age in your bio as well. But it’s private information! Telling us whether you’re in your 20s or 40s isn’t gonna make us find out who you are exactly. It’s not “private info”, it’s basic info. But I still don’t wanna do it… Then I’m happy to block you.