I would sort of like to pm with someone who feels like this and compare notes. Nothing any creepier than need be, just sort of see what kind of stuff we think about.

(April 14, 2021, 10:31 am)CrazyHorse I would sort of like to pm with someone who feels like this and compare notes. Nothing any creepier than need be, just sort of see what kind of stuff  we think about.

Sure pm me anytime

I have diarrhea of the fingers. I started writing some shit and it didn’t stop. I’m going to post my stream of consciousness here. I’m sorry if the length is outrageous. Please feel free to tell me to fuck off. I guess I needed to do this, though.



CrazyHorse (379)
5 minutes ago
To: Nope12
Thank you for your reply. I really have zero idea where I am going with this.I just really felt the need to put something down on pap art that I have never expressed before.

I don’t know why I thought this needed to be a dm, but thank you for Indulging me. At this point, I’m going to say that I really don’t care that this stay a small. If, for some weird reason, you would like to refer to or quote from what follows elsewhere ( no idea why you would want to, just saying that to highlight the non private nature of this.

Well, I suppose I will just babble on from the top of my head.

Side note- is it just me or is spell check getting progressively more and more fucked up? I’m typing this on a mobile and haven’t really been observing the screen. I’m going to give it a quick once over when I’m finished, but the possibility of algorithm driven opacity is real. I just fixed what I had intended to go down as “Ego boost” from “Who joist” and I’m fucking livid at this shit.

Ive never wanted to be like an actual transsexual sort for a number of reasons. 1) I am 6’7”, 2) pregnancy is not an option for trannies 3) I’m not interested in babies, but i am turned on by the thought of being a woman who is. 4) I’m not into dudes, but I’m turned on by the thought of being a woman who is. 5) fuck, that would be embarrassing and 6) im getting fucking old. Being an old lady never figured into a single fantasy of mine.

When I was about 3-4 years old, I would go over to this girls house after preschool. Not sure what my mom was doing, but this lady would look after me, her daughter and 1-2 other kids for a few hours. Somewhere along this timeline this woman got pregnant, and then got pregnanter. I remember being fascinated by her hugeness and I remember my mom telling me I had to be good because the lady was having a baby very soon and that it was hard for someone to do that. This intrigued me too. Then, there was this weird bit on Sesame Street where they showed scenes from a park with trees. lawns, benches etc. while this was going on, the sound of sneezing was heard from somewhere in the park, but nobody was showed then they went back, showed the same scenes, but only this time, there was a person sneezing I. Each scene. Why? I dunno is this an accurate memory, again, I dunno. The important thing is that’s how I remember it. While the camera was panning around and the ghostly sneezes were echoing around the park, someone, idk if adult or child cracked that the sneezes were coming from the baby in this woman’s tummy. For whatever reason, that set me off. I’m almost positive it gave me a boner to pretend I was her and that the sneezes were coming from the baby in my tummy. Since then , I seem to remember readers g. Somewhere that sneezes can function sort of as a substitute for orgasms in little kids. I do seem to recall thinking that sneezing was the shit, but this thing with the hidden baby being the culprit almost took my breath away.

I also remember being at my grandparents house when I must have been around early grade school age. There was a game show on, which might have been The Price Is Right or might have been something that sort of resembled it in format. I was a weird kid, really into gameshows (and Walter Cronkite) and I always had to root for someone and against someone else. There was something about this one contestant that totally rubbed me the wrong way, but he or she kept slapping the competition down as quick as they came up- until this one lady with a really pleasant demeanor and pretty face came up and started kicking ass. The host made a big deal out of the fact that she was pregnant, and I was totally identifying with her. Picturing myself in her place, answering all the questions as best I could while everyone fussed about me and my condition, resting my arm over the top of my bump, patting my belly and answering “yes, she is!” When the host asked me if my baby was kicking. Fuck, I remember being fucking INTO that. I couldn’t wait to get home and make my husband proud of all the laundry detergent or whatever I’d won. And he’d be so proud of me and how big my belly was getting. I think I knew about aex at least a little by then and that it figured in somehow.
Then, in I think the second grade, I became obsessed with the story of the Virgin Mary, who, it was explained to me, was a pregnant teenager. This was the 1970s, and teen pregnancy was simultaneously much more prevalent and much more taboo. There used to be this stupid ass “joke” the girls in my school would bust on you, and either way you answered it, you were fucked to their line of thinking. “Are you P.T.?” they’d ask. Answer in the negative and they had you on a rock. “You mean you’re not potty trained? “They would squeal, and the guilty party’s ears would burn red with shame. Answer in the affirmative and things would get REALLY scandalous. “Then you’re a pregnant teenager!” The reply came at ear splitting volume and was never delivered by less than 3 girls in perfect unity. The world would spin in the head of the kid foolish enough to admit to being PT, and he/she would be a pariah at least till lunchtime, sometimes longer. Except that I always went with that one and felt a surge of bliss in my heart and heat in my pants. Fuck yeah! I was a bad-ass teenage girl now. And what’s more, I was knocked the fuck up. Sort of like Leather Tuscadero in a maternity pinafore. Goddamn. I hoped they’d ask me again, and soon.
But the shame of being PT could be hard to bear. AC/DC hadn’t released Back In Black yet, and so I hadn’t permanently committed to bad kiddhood yet. I longed to be something in the middle- a pregnant teenager beyond reproach. There was a notable void of convincing role models fitting the bill. Into the void waddled the heavily ethereal figure of the Virgin Mary. She was an unwed teenage expectant mother, and her deadbeat carpenter dad wasn’t the baby’s father. She’s gotten knocked up by a prestigious older gentleman with a flowing white beard, and nobody could say shit to her. Not even the Roman Centurions she used to blow for Frankincense money. Fuck myhrr! “Are you PT?” Ha! More like “are you burning for all eternity, bitch? You know who my baby daddy is?” And by the way, I’m 34 weeks today...

Like I said earlier, I was kind of a weird kid.

Then in I think the third, but certainly no later than the fourth grade cam a class field trip to OMSI. The Oregon Museum of Science and Industry. More accurately, it should have been called The Oregon Museum of Science and Industry With a Really Bitchin’ Side Exhibit About Human Reproduction With Nude Pregnant Chicks and Everything. OMSIWRBSEAHRWNPCE for short.

I stood, transfixed, in front of the NPCE portion of the exhibit. Seemingly for fucking hours. Goddamn, wasn’t it dirty to imagine what it would be like to release my seed deep within a woman? Wasn’t it even dirtier, and therefore better to imagine being the woman into who my (it was always me doing the impregnating and any subsequent sexy business. I played both roles in my head. This way, I figured, I wasn’t a fag [offensive terminology retained for historical and psychological accuracy] seed was released and who felt and watched it slowly grow to life?

I think this was the first time I had ever truly been explicitly clear with myself. It was really, really fucking hot to imagine I was a pregnant woman or teen. This did not yet cause me any conflict. It was just me, thinkin’ dirty and soiling the sheets. Again and again and again and again.

Not too long after, though. This Egan to cause me real fucking anguish. I was raised to take a fairly moderate form of Christianity at least somewhat seriously, and while I was already beginning to smell bullshit from that particular manger, I couldn’t entirely break free yet either. I began to imagine myself rushing forward during the sermon and tearfully confessing all to the gatheted dozens. We were Methodists and didn’t go in for that kinda shit, but I was dealing with some really fucked up kinda sim, I thought. Maybe a more Pentecostal approach was required to shake this fuckery loose. I’m serious. This could have happened, and I just can’t see that this wouldn’t have gotten around at school on Monday. The potential consequences of the bullshit guilt could have really driven me to suicide or something. I certainly thought about it.

And there it sat for a decade or more. Sort of a low grade burning blocked in my gut. I was able to figure out I wasn’t gay, because I did not like dudes. Not in that way. Seriously.
I have sometimes stopped and thanked my lucky starts I wasn’t born gay. Not because I believe there’s anything wrong with it, but because I know I was simply not strong enough to deal with the bullshit gay kids went through in the 1970s and 80s. If you know a gay person who came up then and turned out anything less than a complete fucking wreck, you are looking at one tough ass fucker, and that’s no joke.
I took solace in the fact that in addition to this thing, this insanity, as I thought of it that lurked at the depths of my soul, I also liked goils! Chicks in the conventional sense. I also liked them pregnant, but non knocked up was great too. Again, if this has been different, I might have done something really dark and irreversable. If you’ve ever considered goi g down this path, my considered advice is: Don ‘t. Seriously, I hate to be depressing, but in the greater scheme of things, you’re gonn be fucking dead real soon and stay that way forever, so why rush things?
I dated a high school athlete my senior year who had too much of a prominent career in her chosen sport to give many details about here. Seriously. She was a big fuckin deal and really damn pretty too. The Ego boost provided before crushing my heart into smithereens really did a lot for my self esteem in the face of the maternity bra and panties that adorned my mental tits and ass daily. A coach once jokingly told me, “big guy, you lnow if you get her pregnant, there are going to be NCAA ADs up and down the West Coast trying to kill you. While this was, in fact, true, the mental imagery it brought to life was fucking exquisite. Saw her again for the first time I heard last fall. I never did get around to liking or wanting kids, but fuck, our offspring could have been potentially spectacular. I neglected to mention this to her, and I’m glad of it. Her husband dwarfs me and probably would have frowned on that kind of speculation. Ive said enuff.

Ok- so back to the babble. Up until I was 22 years old, I had not the slightest inkling that my
Little secret was shared by anyone else in the world. Even though I was not tiring a cliff anymore, that’s really kind of a fucked up
place to find yourself.

Then, in the space of a week two rings happened. Neither were any kind of big shit except to myself

First, while tripping in mushrooms and cotmplating life. the universe and everything, I came to resolve to not hate myself for this. It was a really fucking word eccentricity perhaps, but it was (mostly) harmless. If I came to know somehow that another person had this or an equally odd yet harmless paraphilia, I wouldn’t hate them for it, so why dump rivers of shot on my own head. It sounds pretty banal to you, I’m sur, but to me it was some of the deepest, most profound self acceptance I had ever even considered.

Second, I was half watching some bulls shot juvenile early 90s “comedy” movie where the main characters had a scene featuring clip purporting to be a from Jerry Springer or some equally shitball show. It had a couple of heavily bearded guys dressed in maternity clothes up on the stage being violently booed by the crowd. Their transgression? They were transvestites who dressed as pregnant women. Kill them, right? Instantly, I KNEW- whoever wrote this scene- they didn’t make that orientation up out of thin air. Out in Hollywood somewhere was a hack-ass writer who slipped this in because it was eating at him too. (I have no idea if this were really the case or not, but I still strongly suspect it was)

That was it. Two things. A week apart my senior year in college. They made a huge difference in my mental attitude and in my overall disposition.’

It was probably 1999 or 2000 when I made the next tiny bit of progress towards gaining any kind of understanding of what the fuck this shit was all about. I got an apartment with privacy and a DSL line. I discovered BabyCenter, BabyZine and Yahoo chat rooms. Making things even more interesting, I discovered crystal meth too. By this point I had done enough extra curricular research to have a pretty decent working knowledge of most things pregnancy related. I adopted a name, imagined a character, a set of circumstances and a life, and boom! I was Kathleen or Stephanie or whoever out there in cyberspace. Makin friends and networking with the other expecting mamma’s. I know this was wrong, but in a certain sense I look back on those days fondly. I was young, o was having my first baby and I made a lot of good friends who were gals a lot like me. helping each other out as we inched together slowly towards motherhood. Here is where I would like to add the following caveat: crystal meth is a hell of a drug. I would chat for up to 48 hours straight if I could, often neglecting to eat, drink or even blink. I was quickly something of a mess and I know this couldn’t have been good for the baby, either.
I prided myself on my authenticity. I had done my homework and was resolved to have the best, healthiest pregnancies I could. I’d keep notes off to the side of the computer, listing my biographical details, how far along I was, the sex and name of my baby, my husband/boyfriend/fling/friend with benefits who was just tryna help a young gal who found herself in a family way feel better about herself and her changing body by showing her that pregnancy could really be the most sensual and sexual time in a gal’s life and wasn’t I grateful to him for that and was I developing feelings for him and was he for me and would he love the baby like it was his own and and and ...I was getting bigger and bigger... and fucking crazier by the day and...I eventually had to comedown and sleep and return to the real world. I had fucking lost it.

While I was out there going fucking nuts, I noticed one thing though. Not everyone was as slick as I imagined myself to be. You’d run into people every once in a while who, based on their profile pic which was obviously Heidi Klimt or somebody or on the bullshit they’d spew was clearly not who they purported to be. The way they would attempt to spin any cinversation towards raw sex talk or pop up out of nowhere suggesting “I know! Let’s all take close up pics of our clits and send them to each other! C’mon!! It’ll be fun, ladies!! Oh and I’m thirteen and this is my sixth pregnancy and they’ve all been quadruplets by the way! And I’m a Lesbian too. Me? I’m 68 weeks! How about you?”
That kinda thing wasn’t terribly hard to decipher as dude with sticky keyboard, trust me, I should know sticky keyboards.

As annoying as these shitbirds were, they reminded me I wasn’t alone. I had my naby to think of now...wait, no...

Ok- so that’s a load of my fucked up mind. I cannot thank you enough for putting yourself in the firing line of my stream-of-consciousness. Crystal meth is a hell of a drug (kidding)

Having subjected you to this. I would be more than happy to read anything you need to express as well.

I. Elite I’m going to head over to the forum and post this while fuckin thing. I’ll be amazed if anyone gets through the whole mess. There were no edits. There was no outline and I didn’t have a clue where this was going to go it end up. I have literally NEVER said or written any of tjis shit ever before. Never! And even though ive made my peace with it, apparently I needed to do this.

Thank you again
My baby could come any day now
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I am currently wearing a fake baby bump. I would love the chance to become pregnant and grow a baby in my belly. I grew up with a mom that was often pregnantso I saw how hard it was but I also say how much she enjoyed it when she had her bump out feeling baby kicking and getting others to feel it. From the laughing and moaning what I heard from her bedroom she also enjoyed it in there.

Honestly, I love the idea of getting knocked up lol. Messing around with gender roles and the like is something my SO and I love to do. Having her get me pregnant is definitely something I'd be interested in experiencing.

(May 9, 2022, 10:45 am)al203 Honestly, I love the idea of getting knocked up lol. Messing around with gender roles and the like is something my SO and I love to do. Having her get me pregnant is definitely something I'd be interested in experiencing.

Uterus transplants might cost maybe 10K (if they are around now) so the deal is they put that in you (after they do some other stuff) & they replace your D with a V. So after all that you would technically be trans. But you get your wish. If you don't want to take care of the kid, just give them to a deserving family, then apply to be a surrogate. You can live the dream & make back that 10K you spent.

(May 9, 2022, 12:58 pm)Thechickenlawyer

(May 9, 2022, 10:45 am)al203 Honestly, I love the idea of getting knocked up lol. Messing around with gender roles and the like is something my SO and I love to do. Having her get me pregnant is definitely something I'd be interested in experiencing.

Uterus transplants might cost maybe 10K (if they are around now) so the deal is they put that in you (after they do some other stuff) & they replace your D with a V. So after all that you would technically be trans. But you get your wish. If you don't want to take care of the kid, just give them to a deserving family, then apply to be a surrogate. You can live the dream & make back that 10K you spent.

Is that really a thing now? Can they transplant a “womb” persay into a male body? I haven’t heard any recent updates in the community but that sure sounds interesting. I would do anything to experience a real pregnancy.

If i had a choice i would be a female for a year. 3 months to deal with period pain, as that only seems fair, then 9 months preggo

If only we had VR that was advanced enough to fulfill our desire

(April 3, 2021, 12:06 pm)Pharaoh170 If you got pregnant or turned into a pregnant woman, would you let your guy friends fuck you?  Asking for a friend...

Honestly, yeah. I'm not gonna lie-- I got some good lookin' guy friends. If they wanted some of this, and I magically happened to be a pregnant woman, sure, I'd let 'em have it.