Powerfully Pregnant Pt. 01

*This story takes place in a version of the world in which biological males can become pregnant via the technological breakthrough of the synthetic uterus. They are only able to give birth via C-section, can choose whether or not to develop milk-producing breasts via hormone treatment, and experience most of the physical changes/symptoms typical of real-world female pregnancy (swelling/weight gain, nausea, fatigue, etc.) while simultaneously maintaining real-world male physical characteristics (semen production/ejaculation, hirsuteness, etc.). Enjoy!

...and there's a bit of magic to our heroine's skills of persuasion, too...so, let's have some fun...

POWERFULLY PREGNANT: PART 1

I thought it was just really good luck at first. Single and impregnated by one of about a dozen possible semi-anonymous hook-ups, it felt like some good luck was probably due to come my way. What I found I was able to do once pregnant may not have ended up being simply good luck, but it was pretty fucking great nonetheless: it seemed I was able to convince just about anyone to do just about anything.

It started when I was about 12 weeks along, finally out of the constantly nauseous stage of my gestation. I was just starting to show and my hormones were finally making me horny instead of sick; not knowing where a pregnant girl was to go in order to pick up some easy dick, I put on my tightest (pre-pregnancy, of course) clothing and hit a college bar. Entering and seeing the beefy array of vapid frat boy flesh on offer, I could hardly contain myself, tapping the first guy I came to on the shoulder. "Bathroom," I said simply, taking his hand and leading him there.

We had a quick, simple fuck in the handicapped stall. It was not enough for me. I followed him with four more guys, never receiving a word of hesitation from any of them, despite sticking with my rather simplistic "Bathroom" argument. I realized how insane this luck was...and it seemed kind of impossible, even with five inebriated frat boys.

On my drive home, I purposefully sped past a cop, easily getting myself pulled over. I rolled my window down as he approached, interrupting him as he started to speak. "Get in here and eat me out." I was feeling pretty bold that night, as well as potentially endowed with pregnancy-magic. He went to my passenger's side door, let himself in, sat down and immediately bent over to where I'd already hiked my skirt up and panties down. As demanded, he ate me out. Once I came he left, wordlessly, flagrant traffic violation apparently forgiven.

I tested my skills several progressively-less-subtle times over the next few days, eventually confident that there was no possible way this was anything less than a Jedi mind trick-level power of persuasion over my fellow man, seemingly bestowed upon me by my knocked up state. There was much horny fun to be had, I had quickly and definitively affirmed.

Oddly enough, I never really tested the boundaries of my new abilities, I realized significantly later; I was so horny that I exclusively used it to sexual ends. Nothing else ever even occurred to my absurdly hormone-addled preggo self. No convincing bank tellers to give me bags of money, no convincing dealership owners to give me free cars, no full-ride scholarships to prestigious doctoral programs: nothing, truly, beyond achieving my own and others' orgasms. God, did I have a great pregnancy...

Chapter 1: The Porno Theatre [Weeks 13-14]

My name's Priscilla, by the way. Priscilla the Preggo, if you like. Great, now that we've been properly introduced I can tell you how I gathered, stored, and enjoyed semen early in my pregnancy.

For the first few weeks of my 2nd trimester, the primary setting of my sexual escapades was a lovely little establishment, Dylan's Video & Novelties. Windowless and not even aspiring to any euphemism-based social acceptability, Dylan's was somewhere I'd always known was in town but had never quite had the courage (or strong desire) to enter. It seemed pretty sketchy to me, really not my type of place. On the other hand, morning sickness and activity-squashing fatigue now having subsided after my first 3 tumultuous months as an expectant mother, I was now showing and horny as all fuck. More than ready for some dirty fun...

I needed some new toys to keep my single ass occupied pussy-wise. Dylan's was the place to go, I thought; not the internet. I wanted to feel a vibrator/dildo/butt plug with at least my hands before committing to dropping any money on it, so in-person shopping it was. My horniness overcame my embarrassment (it wasn't even close), and I entered Dylan's after work one day.

After looking at their intimidatingly diverse array of "novelties" for three or four minutes, someone came out of a room in the back of the store, brushing aside the tattered red curtain separating the two rooms. I thought he worked there for a moment, but then he went to the cash register and paid the cashier before leaving. What had happened back there that required money change hands afterwards?

"Excuse me," I said to the cashier once the other patron had left, "What's in the back?" He smiled. "It's our theatre!" he said proudly. "$10 per half-hour in there, pay when you leave. Interested?" I blushed, but felt my crotch get more wet than my face got red. That must mean fate was guiding me towards the theatre, right? Anyway, I meekly answered "Yes, please," and headed over to pass through the curtain myself.

There was an erect penis in close-up on the screen when I entered, an 8- or 10-foot-long cock projected on the decent-sized screen of the small theatre. The camera panned right, the destination pussy of the huge cock revealed in all its cinematic glory. Fucking commenced, still in close-up, sounds of crotches slapping against each other drowning out the actors' moans.

I counted six other patrons in the room, most of whom were moving in ways that very much suggested active masturbation. I sat next to the guy closest to the entrance and whispered "Let me finish that" in the sweetest iteration of my influential powers I'd yet utilized. He took his hand off his dick, smiled at me and nodded downward for me to get started. I jerked him off, bringing him to climax within about two minutes. As his semen dripped down my knuckles, I was struck by two thoughts simultaneously: 1) what a waste of cum & 2) what a potential goldmine, a veritable firehose of cum shots on daily offer. I think I'd figured out how to get as much cum as I needed.

Okay, sorry, let me back up for just a second. It's probably not inherently clear why I require so much cum.

But I really do. Right around when my 2nd trimester commenced I began to feel better in general, as well as pregnancy-curvy and pregnancy-horny. I'd witnessed and felt the early, just-detectable swelling of my breasts and nipples, waist and ass, newly-firming and bulging navel area of my abdomen. These new curves on my rather lanky frame got me seriously hot, combining with my hormones to keep me performing self-gratifying acts just about constantly.

Seeing the engorgement beginning all over me, though, I panicked a bit. I'd fought through acne for years in my pubescence, dealt with mild psoriasis as a young woman, and currently had an involved facial skincare program that featured no less than seven creams and oils. I'd spent too fucking long on trying to fix and preserve my skin to let this pregnancy pock me with stretch marks. To the utmost of my abilities, I'd prevent any from occurring.

My hormone-addled mind didn't go to the usual products of moisturization for their help, though. It went straight to cum. I needed to rub great volumes of cum into my growing body to prevent stretch marks; I just knew it, ridiculous though it truly is. In the past four or five years, I'd come to recognize the so-called "cumslut" ("cum-slut"? "cum slut"? not sure) in myself.

I absolutely loved guys shooting on my tits, ass, open mouth...anywhere else they requested, really. Being cum upon got me off majorly, and I loved to have the guy rub his load into me until my body shined whitely with his seed. I usually had to rub one out while my partner did so, it turned me on so intensely. So, I had a bit of a history with rubbing loads into myself, and wasn't totally surprised that my mind went straight to cum for the moisturizing job at hand.

In the week or so leading up to my pilgrimage to Dylan's, I cruised hook-up apps obsessively, swiping right on 95% of the guys I happened upon. They liked that I was offering bareback fucking no strings attached, and rarely minded the trade-off of having to cum on my belly. I never mentioned the pregnancy to these guys, knowing my modest bump growth didn't quite give me away yet and not wanting to weird out any potential fuck with my maternal condition. We'd fuck, they'd shoot on me, I'd enjoy my opalescent sheen for a while. Hopefully, my rubbing the cum in and enjoying my sticky state would give them enough time to get hard again. It seemed to depend on the individual's particular refractory period length whether it could play out in this idealized fashion. Probably went my way 50% of the time: a single load per hook-up, though, simply wasn't enough cum for me.

I was desperate for those white pearls. Like, pretty absurdly so. Thus, when I found the porno theatre at the sex shop and saw half a dozen guys already halfway to climaxing, I realized I could collect quite a large amount of cum in this new arena. The hook-ups would be fast and efficient, and I'd make my way through the inhabitants of the whole room on each visit. Oh, and I'd make sure to finish them all off orally, collecting their load in my mouth fully before I spit it into a flask I'd be carrying. Then, I could use the product from the flask on my bump later. Added bonus to the plan: I got to taste each load! This was massively arousing for me at this slutty moment, and I was thrilled I could both taste the cum and subsequently collect it for its intended belly use.

After wasting the gentleman's load on my first trip to Dylan's, I came back the next evening with my plan in place and my flask in pocket. I decided on "I'm going to blow you and take your cum" as my introduction to the sperm machines I'd be taking advantage of. Even with my magical powers of persuasion, it felt good to have the dialogue smoothly in place. Once I started approaching patrons and reciting my line, though, I was instantly struck by the fact that I really didn't need to use those powers in this situation. I still did, just to be safe, but are there really porno theatre-goers who would turn down a free blowjob, or care about where their cum is going to end up?

I crouched just to one side of my suitors, finding this to be the most comfortable position to really get in there fellatio-wise. My first target orgasmed in about three minutes, and I struggled (during this encounter and the next few) to contain his load in my mouth. I just sucked harder and harder as he came more and more, my semen-filled mouth barely able to contain his cock, my saliva, and his load all at once. Maybe a third of the first several loads landed on the gentlemen's pants. But by my fourth or fifth try (still all within the first evening of cum-collecting), I could easily manage the entirety of the oh-so-valuable loads, surreptitiously depositing them in the flask after (and loving the taste while I got to keep the cum in my mouth for a minute or so...).

I collected seven loads on my first outing; I'd eventually figure out that I averaged six per night. Going about three times per week, collecting about six loads each time, and using about half a load's worth of jizz for each moisturizing session, the numbers added up to about five possible cum-rubbing sessions per day. Excellent!

I absolutely adored my time at home with my flask of semen. I let it drip slowly and carefully from the flask held a few feet above my abdomen, the cum landing on me in unpredictable shapes and patterns (not so unlike the results of a guy shooting on me directly). The saliva/semen mix started off by making me shiny all over, then, once it'd been pretty thoroughly rubbed in, further rubbing would turn it a pleasant white color. Everything was sticky throughout, which I never minded in the moment, but it invariably led me to a post-moisturizing shower (once it had all settled in to my skin to my satisfaction, naturally).

In my second week of this endeavor, 20 loads or so in, I decided I wanted to switch it up and get a dick in me properly. I knew I couldn't really collect the load as it dripped down my thigh; I just really wanted my pussy filled regardless. My brand new move was added to the repertoire just once per theatre visit, as I didn't want to cut into my cum collection too deeply. I'd lean over the seat right in front of the man who'd be fucking me, presenting my pussy via my underwear-free miniskirt. "Fuck me" was all it took (again, magic necessary or superfluous here?), and I got a few hard, fast bangs in. Very satisfying.

No blowjob I'd ever given here had turned another patron's head, and the sex was no different. These pervs had truly seen it all.

Chapter 2: Coworkers [Weeks 15-18]

After two weeks or so of spending a great deal of my time at Dylan's, I tired of gross (still hot, of course), anonymous dicks and the grind of collecting numerous loads of semen in a flask. At the same time, I was finding work was really getting in the way of seeing to my constant horniness, my five or six masturbation breaks I'd take each day no longer quite cutting it. Thus, I realized I really needed to be getting some dick during work hours.

Of course, I could convince anyone I pleased to fuck me with but a word. I also had the location down: an out-of-the-way supply closet for which I, the office manager, was the only one who possessed a key. Additionally, the idea of fucking in a public/professional space really did it for me. Having disclosed my pregnancy to the office a few weeks ago (the traditional time to do so - at the start of the 2nd trimester), I could even ask for cum shots on my bump without arousing much confusion. Yes, work would become the place for fucking.

FUCK 1

But whom should I fuck at work? The guy closest to the sex closet, obviously! So very convenient. He was schlubby, to put it sorta mildly: overweight, usually disheveled, eternal stubble, badly dressed. But, I was almost positive there was a cock hidden in his pants, and I was willing to take a chance and presume that that cock would be able to shoot cum onto my belly. Sometimes you just have to have faith in such things.

He was bad at sex, to put another fact mildly. If I didn't work my clit so diligently, I wouldn't have cum once with him. All about himself, just selfishly pounding away, hard and artless. On the other hand, as I'd guessed, he was indeed able to shoot cum from that cock of his. The first time I told him to shoot on my bump, he obeyed (again: magic, no choice) but gave me a truly perplexed look, apparently having missed out on the office scuttlebutt about my condition. As I rubbed his hot cum into myself, he asked if I was "pregnant or something." Brilliant guy, putting together my clearly swollen belly with a pregnancy.

Let's further discuss that hot cum of his, though. I'd gotten a few fresh loads shot on me prior to my porno theatre days, but getting hotly shot on 3-5 times per day was a revelation. Fuck collecting semen: I needed warm ropes shooting all over my baby bump as much as humanly possible. It rubs in better (more rapidly, thoroughly, and shinily, it seemed to me), it's more fragrant (love it), and the texture is better (so fucking smooth!). That first day of repeatedly receiving his hot loads, I knew I couldn't go back to my old methods. I'd just have to figure out the logistics for receiving constant fresh cum.

While I was thrilled with having my midsection cum upon, my new partner quickly tired of the practice, wondering (obnoxiously) why he couldn't just cum inside me (already knocked up), at least on occasion. I was able to tell him to shut up and cum on me, of course, and it worked just fine. Nonetheless, his repeated requests to cum anywhere but on my belly became seriously irritating. Thus, he only lasted as my sex toy for about 5 days before I felt it was time for me to move on.

FUCK 2

Next, I went for a bit of attractiveness over proximity to where we'd be doing the fucking. He was in his mid-20s, blonde, very fit (faint hint of a six-pack!), and just overall handsome. Why not upgrade to such a specimen when no one can say no to me? This time, I told him before anything happened between us that I needed sex because of pregnancy hormones and I wanted him to cum on my pregnant belly every time we'd fuck. I put it right out there nice and clearly, and he readily agreed.

This one was a much, much better lay. My favorite thing he did (without even being told!) was going down on me after he'd shot on my bump, hands rubbing my sticky belly as he ate me out. Fantastic move; easily elicited 2 or 3 orgasms from me with each instance of cunnilingus. He was also capable of fucking at different speeds, and considerate enough to make sure he was stimulating my clit whenever we were going at it. Not that it's really something under anyone's control, but his cock got a lot harder than the other guy's, too. Riding him for extended sessions was a true pleasure, my loud moans almost certainly reaching people outside the closet.

After 6 days and 20-ish screws, he let me know how thrilled he was that I'd shown interest in him like this because...he'd always had a bit of a crush on me. Fuck. So, that was the end of him.

FUCK 3

To my great fortune, on my elevator ride a few hours after that uncoupling, I found myself in close quarters with a pregnant man. Besides passing one by in public maybe a few times a year, I had no experience at all with pregnant men. I did, based on the immediate wetness I felt at my crotch when he entered the elevator, find them seriously sexy. Not wanting to pass up such a rare opportunity, I told him we were going to grab a coffee in the lobby of the building, and my powers of persuasion were put to their greatest use yet. Over coffee, I found out he was CFO at the firm three floors above mine. With that high-profile job, he'd rather not risk being seen with me in either of our offices, but would prefer a nice public bathroom located on the top floor. We'd start the fucking there the next morning.

The bathroom was, indeed, quite nice. Potpourri, soft lighting, remarkable cleanliness: about as much as one could hope for in a public bathroom. More impressive than even this beautiful bathroom was my new partner, to whom I said only "Strip" once we were together. He was, I'd learn later, a glorious 33 weeks along. Wordlessly, I took in his bared gestational glory for at least 5 minutes.

He was taller than average, maybe 6'2". His whole body featured a pleasant thickness, fat deposits filling him out in a way that majorly complemented his new belly and breasts. The entirety of him was also covered in dark brown hair, to the point that I couldn't tell if his navel had popped or if his nipples were swollen until I got my hands on him a bit later. His rack hadn't gotten all that big, but his tits were beautifully shaped, near-perfect spheres sitting just above the main attraction.

The bump. Dear God, this man's bump. It reached from just under his tits to the middle of his cock, spreading 3 inches further than his waist on both sides. And it stuck out so very far, its protrusion truly remarkable. I'd guess it stuck out 18" further than his gut would've pre-pregnancy, which doesn't sound extreme as I'm writing it, but in person and located on that area of the body was positively jaw-dropping in its enormity. The bump truly seemed to have grown out in every conceivable direction, and still had a solid 2 months of growth left. Even so, it retained an elegance of smooth, curved lines throughout; no lumpiness to be found whatsoever. The man was a goddamn marvel, and I was simultaneously in awe and ravenously turned on.