As soon as the scalpel finished its mutilation, he registered the sensation of the vacuum being placed on his daughters head, the movements tearing his already brutalized opening. The doctor started pulling without even waiting for a contraction and the hands were back on his belly, crushing his insides without care. Each compression sent another flash of agony through his anatomy but he couldn’t do anything other than scream for mercy.
It was the stench that woke her. The smell of musk and decay taking her from pleasant dreams. She looked unhappily about. The cell she was trapped in was cold and damp and the short chains bound to her wrist bit deep, letting scars heal from past self-inflicted injuries. She could only guess at how long she had been kept a prisoner and it wasn't wasn't by etching each hopeless day upon her cell walls. She looked over her naked body with disgust, her eyes stuck upon her now swollen belly. She was in her third trimester her captives claimed. Thus she estimated she had been here a little over nine months. She bit back tears as memories flooded with renewed vigor. Though the days had long passed when the men would enter her cell and take her, ravaging her until their seed had planted, she dreaded this time the most.
WARNING: This short story contains Minor Language, Mpreg, and Descriptive Labour and Birth Scenes. If you do not prefer any of these, than this is not the story for you, and I would recommend that you not read it. Especially if all you wish to do is comment on how much you think Mpreg is disgusting and wrong. If you have anything against this story, you can note me. I would prefer not to have comments that do nothing but start flame wars.
Mpreg Baby on BattlefieldBANG! It was the battlefield. The fight began and was still going for almost 2 hours. Bullets were fling across the grass running through people. One of the guys in the back was pregnant. His name was Evan. He was passed his due date but was forced to serve in the war. His side didn't have many fighters if he were to be excused. They needed to win this battle. Evan was behind a rock trying to catch his breath. Blood streamed down his face from attacks and bruises took over his body. They were supplied body masks but Evan wasn't able to wear it since no matter how he tried it didn't fit. He was worried something might happen to his baby or him during the battle. He panted from running too much since he ran out of energy quickly. His enormous belly made it hard for him to dodge bullets. He was bumped and shoved a couple of times. Evan ran out from behind the rock and held up his gun and shot many bullets towards the enemies. He ran into a tall man and fell to the ground. He held his stom
Francis bit his lips, shaking his head. "..No," he answered truthfully. His whole entire backside ached and he was also having difficulty regaining breath, his swollen womb was placing too much pressure on his diaphragm. Groaning, Francis rubbed one hand over his stomach and held the other to the middle of his back where the pain was strongest. Whining and groaning, he rested his chin against Niso's shoulder. "I think..I wanna get out..c-change positions.."Niso nodded and looked down at him, wrapping his arms around him to help him up. "Alright, back to the bed?" He asked softly, helping to lift Francis up out of the tub. He could tell from the swell of Francis' stomach that the younger male wasn't done, and he cringed at the thought that Francis might not have the motivation to keep pushing. Francis pressed his lips together. "Y-Yeah. But hurry, I can feel it moving down.." He let Niso help him to his feet, swaying a little as he spread his legs and shuffled towards the bedroom, his waddle especially pronounced now. A new bolt of pain laced through him each time his hips were jostled. They were barely to the bed when another contraction tore down his lower back and abdomen, forcing a surprised cry from his lips. His legs trembled and he practically fell into Niso's arms.
"It's normal... We're getting close..." John replied, already knowing where Sherlock's mind was going. At last, the dressing room. Gingerly swinging the door open, he loosed his grip on John long enough to shove a large stack of chairs in front the door, keeping any potential snipers out of the room for the time being. He'd figure out what to do if they started shooting when they come to it. Leaving John on a bench, he hurried into a side room, grabbing the items that John had instructed him to get; towels, a first aid kit, anything he thought they'd need. Of course, he did manage to take a moment to type out a frantic text to Mycroft.
It didn’t come but he could hear the doctors and nurses voices take on a note of alarm. He saw Jason’s face, blurry above him, and knew he was urging him to hold on even though he couldn’t hear the words. He felt the doctor’s hands leave his body but before he could be grateful another pair landed on his abdomen, grazing the tip of his bloated penis, and started pushing down.