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muchelburstenstein · 4 months

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New Years Party

(CONTENT WARNING: Burst)

I opened my eyes, and found myself in a crowded space surrounded by masked strangers.

I tried to stand up, to get away, but could barely wiggle my arms and legs. Looking at myself, I realized my situation was far worse than what I thought it was.

My wrists were strapped with what seemed to be leather strips to a wooden surface, each one separate and over my head. Turning my gaze lower, I realized quickly that I was entirely naked. My modest breasts were stiff, the air in the room chilly without anything covering me. So too was I exposed from the waist down, my legs wide open and my knees bent due to a brace resting under them. It was like being in some sort of birthing table, except that my back was only slightly angled, more like I was sitting in a slightly reclined position rather than the more bed-like apparatus.

My feet were resting on the ground, and while I couldn’t see my feet, I could feel ground underneath them. So far as I could tell I was in no pressing danger, though my groin was aching. I tried to remember where I had been prior to this.

There was a party of some kind. New years. I had been drinking quite a bit, and had decided to go out to get fresh air. I’d been having a walk around the block, my head clearing slightly, when a van pulled up next to me. Some masked men jumped out, and…

That was as far as my memory went. I guess I’d blacked out or they’d knocked me unconscious somehow. I tried not to think too much about my tender womanhood, instead taking in the scene around me.

Everyone seemed happy. People were laughing, dancing, there was music. It seemed to be a masquerade, nobody’s face was visible. We also seemed to be in a very fancy building, maybe a mansion or a ballroom in a swanky hotel or something. There were snacks near the walls, and everyone seemed relaxed.

But there was a hidden energy in the air, an expectancy. Like everyone was just waiting for some event that I was unaware of.

And over against one wall was me, naked and immobilized. Nobody tried to help me, but nobody was doing anything to cause me harm either. More than a few lingering, almost hungry gazes were cast my way, but beyond that most people just kind of ignored me.

I continued trying to loosen my bonds, maybe find a weak point in the contraption rendering me trapped and also incredibly exposed. The occasional draft tingled over my exposed skin and over my delicate, still sore gender, making me shive with discomfort and a dash of shame.

Then, someone else showed up. Someone in a wardrobe far more magnificent than anyone else, a mask sparkling with gems and intricately painted. Like some sort of high priest or magician or other prestigious, ancient leader.

“Welcome!” His voice boomed over the assembly, and a hush fell, the music falling silent “I am so pleased you could make it to my fantastic New Year’s party!” the seemingly important man continued, his tone pleased and excited. “We are at last approaching the passing of this rather droll and disappointing year, and I am thrilled to announce that, once more, we have found a suitable guest to help us ring in the fresh calendar in our special, exciting fashion!”

I was starting to feel even warmer than I was before. I squirmed uneasily, a strange feeling distracting me, like a tightness building deep in my core. “Ah, yes, as always the event is right on time!” Even now you can see our special guest beginning to feel the effects of our celebration!”

All eyes turned to me. I shrank back, concerned, but still that tightness only seemed to intensify, and I bit my lip as I felt sweat bead on my forehead. The resplendent man swaggered toward me, before kneeling down and carefully touching my belly with his hand. I shivered, the skin there far more sensitive than it had ever been. “Ah, don’t worry dear.” The host of this said, loud enough for the silent room to hear. “It’s natural for you to be a bit more sensitive. Most women tend to get that way when they’re expecting, and you’re but one hour away from meeting your bundle of joy.”

I looked down at where my captor’s hand was caressing my flesh. Expecting? No, I wasn’t… I couldn’t be… “There we go… starting to show already, right on schedule. So reliable and precise, they are.” I couldn’t help but whimper as I saw what the resplendent man was talking about. A tiny bulge was starting to press out under his fingertips, just above my freshly shaved groin.

“Congratulations are in order, I suppose. You’re a mommy now, isn’t that lovely?” Tears welled in my eyes as the one taunting me continued to tenderly, gently stroke my baby bump. “N-no… I can’t be… I never…” “Ah, but you are!” The man replied, rising and raising his voice once more. “And these creatures young are very predictable. At exactly the stroke of midnight, you will give birth to your inhuman child, blessing the New Year with new life!”

The assembled crowd cheered as I cried out in protest. I begged someone to let me go, apologized for whatever I had done wrong, pleaded with them to get this thing, whatever it was, out of me. But nobody was listening.

The music began once more, the costumed man sauntered away, surrounded by people who seemed to adore him, and once more everywhere was talking and laughing and dancing.

I’d been impregnated against my will. And worse, by something not even human. It was growing quickly, and the sensations were intense. There was a tight pulling feeling inside as my womb stretched and grew to keep up with the thing my body was happily gestating.

At first, it was hard to tell I was pregnant, but within ten more minutes it was obvious. The swell of my midriff became more pronounced, and although my bellybutton was resting on the bump at an odd angle, it was being shifted toward the center as my unasked for child filled me more by the minute.

People started to approach me now. Most just stroked my belly, saying how amazing I looked, how they were sure I’d do an amazing job, “put on a good show” as more than a few said. A few others were more bold, toying with my breasts or slipping a hand down between my legs. A felt mostly thicker, clumsier male fingers rubbing over my womanhood, but to my surprise more than a couple of thin, precise female digits immediately found my sensitive button and teased it for a few moments as well, making me whimper and gasp, overwhelmed by how sensitive my sex had become as a result of my condition.

I continued growing the life that had been forced into my womb, unable to do anything to slow or stop it. As I got bigger, visits became more frequent, my more bold attendants becoming more frequent. I was asked questions. How it felt to be pregnant. “Awful. I didn’t want this.” I would reply. They would usually chuckle knowingly or nod, saying something foreboding like “Poor thing. And you haven’t even begun labor…” As my bellybutton began to drift toward the center of my fertile swell, at last taking the position so many were familiar with, people began to touch and play with that as well, asking how sensitive it was, telling me they couldn’t wait to see it push out.

Inevitably, that moment came. My navel was pulled flat as I entered my third trimester. Then, as time dragged on, it was forced into an outie, a extra nub on top of the swollen, tight, hot orb that my once flat midriff had become. I felt so heavy, so full. I was sweating constantly, I felt like I was burning up.

The guests started to tease my outie, which had become incredibly sensitive. I felt ashamed of how wet I had become, how easy it was to send pleasure dancing over my skin and into my core with the gentlest of touches.

I would plead with the people who came to enjoy my condition. Beg them to let me go, to get the baby out, to at least tell me what was going on. But most of them were only there to use me for their own amusement. Someone started teasing my clit, tugging at it and rolling back the hood to stroke the base, and I found myself panting and arching my back, toes curling as I felt an intense tightness building at my core. “I’m gonna… gonna… oh god no don’t make me!” I gasped.

But they did. I couldn’t help it. Disgusted with myself, my entire body shuddered as I was forced to orgasm. They kept going, faster and with even more precision, I could do nothing to stop them. I came even harder as they moaned in arousal. Then, a third and final time, my screams echoing through the room, I squirted. Some people giggled, others moaned, commenting on how sexy it was.

I broke down. As the latest visitor walked away, I sobbed, staring at my belly, feeling my juices cooling on my thighs, helpless and pregnant and feeling violated. Even worse was that I had orgasmed, knowing that, in some way, some part of me enjoyed what was happening, what had just been done to me even though I was begging them to stop.

From then on, most of my tormentors only approached to fondle my increasingly gravid orb. The masked strangers kept massaging the point just below my protruding navel, saying they were trying to keep my muscles nice and relaxed, telling me to stay calm no matter what, that if I tensed up and fought my baby it would only be worse, hurt more.

I had no idea what they were talking about. It was hard to imagine me being more distressed than I was now. And how would not tensing make it hurt less? Wasn’t the point that I was supposed to push the baby out?

I was nearing the end of my pregnancy, I could feel it. I was huge, the weight in my belly was shifting down, changing my fecund mount from a drum-tight shining orb into a low-hanging oblong shape. I could feel movement from inside, nudging and kicking and squirming. It made me feel utterly helpless. I’d grown an inhuman child within my womb, even though I’d never asked for it, never wanted it. And soon, it would come out.

Once more, the well-dressed host strode near me, standing off to the side as I stared at my life-filled belly, feeling hot and sore and defeated. “Ladies and Gentelmen!” The flamboyantly dressed man called. “Soon, it will be time. There are but ten minutes remaining in this year, and it is time for the old to pass on, and make way for the new! You can see, even now, the child is eager to emerge from its shell. Let us celebrate and encourage the arrival of our newest friend!”

The gathered crowd cheered, but I wasn’t certain what the masked man meant. What did he mean even now? The baby was just kicking a bit more than normal. I wasn’t having contractions or anything.

Some of the party-goers walked around and continued dancing, dining, and joking. But now I had become something of a main event. Many of the ones that had been enjoying themselves at my expense were now gathered as close as they dared, watching my every move and shift with a hungry gaze. Like they were watching for something they knew would come any second now.

I wished the awful thing inside me would stop kicking, it was distracting. There were little bumps where the pushes from inside were coming from, the same spot over and over, just below my outie. “Please… stop kicking baby, you’re starting to make me sore there. Just… just be nice and I promise I’ll birth you as soon as I can.”

I felt stupid for trying to bargin with the creature in my belly. Even more so as dark chuckles and snickers came from the assembled crowd. But I ignored them, waiting for the contractions to begin.

I waited.

And waited.

The minutes crawled on, and I was groaning in discomfort, the repeated nudges on that same spot beneath my belly-button becoming more painful under the repeated kicks. Those, in turn, seemed to almost be getting stronger. The little bumps began to press out further, and I began to breathe heavily, trying not to let the masked freaks surrounding me know how much the movement of my unasked for child were hurting me.

A particularly strong hit forced a low groan to escape me as I leaned my head back. Why wouldn’t it stop hitting that same stupid spot?! It was getting really sensitive, sending pain radiating along the surface of my full-term swell. I gradually shifted from heavy, controlled breathing to panting, gasping in air as the unpleasant sensations intensified.

The crowd started to murmur in excitement, pointing at the repeated rising bumps in my skin, though

I couldn’t make out what everyone was saying. One woman’s voice came out clear, however. “It’s coming, see how hard it’s starting to push? She’s going to meet her baby so soon, no matter how bad it hurts!”

Slowly, the meaning of that began to clarify. These movements… they weren’t little baby kicks. They were deliberate. I’d read stories about this, seen articles. But it was always something that was dismissed as a myth, not something that really happened. I didn’t understand. “I… I c-can’t be… ugh… b-bursting!” I managed to gasp as the thrusting intensified.

I was met with cruel laughter.

“No… No, you can’t d-do this I AGH! This can’t b-be happening it’s nOUAH! N-not something that really hAHHHN! Happens!” It was getting worse as the efforts of my terrible unasked for child became more powerful, faster. Somone called that there were only five minutes left, and I let out a cry as a particularly strong thrust caught me off guard.

The skin was starting to bruise, becoming a deep purple splotch that radiated out from the central point of my inhuman offspring’s assault. He wouldn’t stop slamming against me, and I could feel little sharp things digging into my skin, teeth biting and claws scratching. This was really happening.

“Please someone heeEEAAAHHH! It hurts so baaaAAAHHHD!!!” I couldn’t stop crying out in agony, it was getting worse with every shove. And they were coming so quickly now, as someone called we were down to two minutes.

I was starting to convulse as the pulling sensation became too much for me. Each thrust made me spasm again, lightning torment radiating out from the spot the monster inside me had chosen to emerge from. “Hurts oh PLUGHHH! Agh, ugh, PLEAAASEEE!!!” I could barely speak, the pressure from inside was driving me insane, and the shoves came one after another, at least two every second.

Everyone was watching now, there were more than a few lustful moans at my condition. Whispers circled me. “She’s so close…” “She’s gonna hatch like a good egg…” “I want’s wait to see her tear open…” “Listen to her screaming god yes…” everyone enjoying the show, nobody lifting a finger to help.

“Alright everyone!” The host cried from some location I couldn’t see. “It’s time for the countdown! Let this poor remnant of the old, dying year know how long she has before the child of the new year is born from her broken body!”

“20!” I could hear a disgusting tearing sound, like cardboard that had been soaked being shredded. It was coming from inside me.

“19!” I couldn’t keep myself from screaming incoherently. The thing, it was being born through my belly, it was coming OUT OF ME!

“18!” I tried to do what I was told to, tried to relax, but I couldn’t help it, it all hurt so bad.

“17!” The bruise was huge, my skin surging forward over and over, my body struggling to hold itself together.

“16!” The countdown was driving me insane, telling me how long I had left before the inevitable. Before the baby burst out of me.

“15!” The thrusting was so strong, so agonizing, I would give anything to make it stop.

“14!” More tearing sounds, my body was breaking from inside, my inhuman child was killing me.

“13!” I thrust my belly forward, trying to do anything to relieve the maddening pressure of the thing inside trying to rip me open.

“12!” I could feel blood pouring from the wounds that had been formed in my womb.

“11!” It wasn’t stopping, I could feel the fibers buckling, giving way…

“10!” A sickening sound as my uterus ruptured, and I let out a shriek of pure agony. Now it only had to break through the skin, and the nightmare I’d been raped pregnant with would be born.

“9!” The thrusting wouldn’t stop, I could feel the teeth and claws like hot knives.

“8!” I couldn’t even scream it hurt so bad, the audience was watching in silence, eager for the climax. But still, the host’s booming voice counted down the last seconds of my terrible labor.

“7!” My toes curled into tight balls, my fingers forming tight fists as everything tensed. I pulled at my restraints, knowing it was too late to escape, but driven by the primal need to escape the pain.

“6!” I tried to kick my legs, to scoot backwards away from the thing inside me that wanted to push forwards so badly. My whole body trembled and convulsed.

“5!” I cried out again as a tiny rip formed in my flesh, sending a small jet of crimson shooting forward.

“4!” Thrust, thrust, thrust, the wound ripping sickeningly a bit wider each time.

“3!” I couldn’t escape couldn’t fight it, it hurt so bad please just make it end!

“2!” Someone in the crowd cried “You’re doing so good, I can see the head!”

“1!” The pain was so overwhelming, so all consuming, I cried out one last time: “IT HURTS SO BAD IT’S BEING BOOORRRNNN!”

Thrust!

THRUST!!!

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” The host called as confetti exploded from the ceiling, just as a spray of blood erupted from my ruined, swollen belly, the awful warbling of my newborn monster joining the freshly re-started music. The crowd cheered excitedly, embracing and kissing among other things. The host came over to pull the beast he’d forced me to deliver from my destroyed midsection. “Ah, such a cutie, there you are!” he cooed to the thing that had killed me.

“Wh… why?” I managed to gasp out. The masked man looked at me, head tilted. “It’s the theme, my dear.” He replied. “Out with the old, in with the new and all. It’s just bad luck you happened to be chosen as the old.”

The words sent a chill down my spine, deeper than even the cold radiating from the gaping wound my unasked for child had made as it was born. I at last managed to lay back and relax, gazing at the swirling color that was the room and the blurry orgy that was starting to build momentum in front of me. I closed my eyes, savoring the tune of “Auld Lang Syne” one last time…

#bad end #bursting #rapid pregnancy #monster pregnancy #unwanted pregnancy

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