Copypasta from http://verysofisticated.tumblr.com/post/144067790056/i-saw-that-you-were-interested-in-being-pregnant
I saw that you were interested in being pregnant with dogs or horses. Didn't you say you didn't like bestiality? I might be thinking of someone else or you changed your mind in which case sorry.
I get how that seems backwards from what I said originally. I’m okay with it in fantasy land with mythical beasts, but I’m 110% against it irl. In those cases, I would say that anybody into it just go ahead and use like frisky beast dildos or something as a substitute for poor animals.
However, it’s not so much the bestiality I’m into (cause I’m not). It’s the embarrassment. I’m stealing this explanation from my boo, but I totally agree with it: It’s being stuck with something inside of you, growing and becoming a burden on you, something socially reprehensible that would ruin your life and gain you notoriety to the worst degree.
Say, being forced to go to work every day as your tummy gets bigger and bigger, and no matter how big of clothes you wear, your body matches it. Your coworkers compliment your glow, but they don’t know. Months pass, and you can feel the orcas inside of you swim along your skin, waking you up every night as they fight with their siblings.
Eventually 9 months hits and you know you’ve got another 3 or 4 to go. Rumors start to spread in the office, and your belly begins to drop below your maternity dress shirts. Your walk slows into a waddle, and you put enough effort into each step to grunt lightly under your breath, because you can feel the stares of the office as you cross the cubicles to the back of the large room from the printer near the entrance.
You can’t go to the store anymore without being asked by the young strapping boys to help you. The weight and demand of such large babies on your weak human body are demanding, and from the time you wake until the time you sleep, your breathing remains dominated with deep intakes and sharp gasps.
You carry tissues with you wherever you go. Even though you feel over the large, tight ball, you can’t discern how many are inside of you, and it’s obvious your tits can’t either. They’re painful, always. They never stop dripping. You used to wash your sheets every day from the milk pPost too long. Click here to view the full text.