GENESIS OF A FETISH
I can pinpoint the start of my pregnancy fetish to the day.
I was 18 and it was a formative late morning of multiple firsts in my life, and it all happened on my penultimate day of high school. Senioritis having long since thoroughly set in, I was leaving mid-third period for a totally unnecessary college visit I’d scheduled at the last minute. When I left the calculus classroom, though, I saw a fellow senior attempting to clean out her locker.
Her name was Larissa and she was very, very pregnant. I’d gone to school with her for as long as I could remember, and she’d been in most of my honors and AP courses through sophomore year, when she seemed to turn into something of a “bad girl.” We’d been on friendly terms when we had classes together, but I’m a bit embarrassed to admit that, like most of my classmates, I’d sort of lost track of her (and/or been intimidated by her) when her personality seemed to change mid-high school. Once she’d become visibly pregnant halfway through senior year, there seemed to be some unspoken agreement amongst the student body that she should be shunned. I was certainly guilty myself of ignoring her in my discomfort at her condition. We’d wave to each other in the hallway and say “Hi,” but that was pretty much the extent of our relationship at this point.
There she was in the otherwise deserted hallway, 8 1/2 month bump pressed against the locker adjacent to hers as she attempted to bend down and access her belongings. She groaned loudly as she managed to grab a few loose pieces of paper, which she proceeded to drop into the trash bin she’d dragged to the locker. It was a pathetic sight and an opportunity to do something nice for someone who really seemed like she could use a kindness.
She was wearing black flip flops, pink leggings that only reached the bottom edge of her swollen midsection, and a thin white tank top that showed substantial cleavage up top and her bare belly up to her navel at the bottom. She was in violation of any number of dress code statutes, but I supposed those in charge of enforcing the code were probably as uncomfortable around the pregnant teen as everyone else was. I couldn't imagine Larissa gave much of a shit about her attire, what with the pregnancy unavoidably drawing all the attention. My eyes went to the bare skin of her baby bump instantly and wanted to stay there, for reasons I found perplexing at the moment and see as inevitable now.
Larissa groaned at the effort of straightening her back once she'd gotten her hands on two or three papers. "H-hey, Larissa," I began haltingly. She turned and looked at me, smiling slightly. "Can I give you a hand with that?"
Her smile widened. "Hey. That obvious I'm flailing over here, huh? Thanks, Jake. Could you help with all this crap I can't reach on the bottom?" I got to my knees next to her, my eyes precisely level with her partially-bared belly, the sight of which left me momentarily frozen and speechless.
I finally regained my faculties, at least enough to speak. "All going in the trash?" She nodded. It was mostly crumbled papers, beat-up folders and a few articles of gym clothes down there.
"Lockers are really not designed for pregnant girls," she mused. "Just like every desk in the school. Or every table in the cafeteria. Or high school society in general." She chuckled, cradling her belly in both arms as I tossed items into the garbage. "Sorry, I don't mean to complain. It's just...challenging, you know? Everyone both ignores and can't keep their eyes off me. I can just about feel the shame in the air around me. All the fucking time..."
She sort of trailed off, and I felt the need to apologize for any part I may have played in her shaming. "I'm so sorry you've been treated that way. And that I haven't been friendlier lately. You deserve a lot better. High school sucks."
Larissa smiled and reached down to pat my shoulder. "Thanks, Jake, I really appreciate that. I could’ve used you 4 months ago, but it’s still nice to hear a few kind words now.”
I blushed as I stood back up, bottom of her locker fully cleared. “I’m…sorry, Larissa. I’ve seen the looks at you, heard the gossip and shaming. I could’ve done more, been a friend to you. I honestly can’t imagine what you’ve gone through. Or how fucking brave you are. Sticking it out to finish school as…well, as pregnant as you are? It’s admirable stuff, truly. Your next year may look a lot different than mine and our other fellow graduates, but you made your choice and you own it, showing up here every day and weathering the staring and murmurs to get your diploma on time. Impressive, impressive stuff.” She took both my hands in hers, making sustained eye contact and smiling. My eyes wanted to break from hers and go back down to her exposed lower bump…and they did so…repeatedly.
She clearly noticed and smiled at my inability to keep from staring at her bared flesh. Releasing one of my hands, she closed her locker and started pulling me down the hall with the hand still grasping one of mine. “Come on, let’s go for a walk. The locker can wait, right?” I nodded and smiled, eager to spend more time with her for reasons I still couldn’t quite pin down. My bullshit college visit was now 100% off the table.
We exited the building into warm sunlight and deserted school grounds. “I haven’t had much company lately,” she told me, still holding my hand. “It’s really great to talk to someone nice.” Larissa led me towards the track and football field area, stopping suddenly about halfway there. “You’re 18, right?” she asked. I nodded. She exhaled in relief, squeezing my hand. “Good, good. Me too!” This was the most I’d ever held hands with a girl, and I wondered how obvious my sweating palms were to her. Anyway, we continued our journey and found the sporting area as devoid of other folks as the hallway and walk over there had been.
“Would you like to walk around the track a few times?” I hazarded a lame guess. She smiled at my naivety and shook her head.
“No, I thought maybe under the football bleachers would be nicer. A place where a girl who gets herself into my condition is nice and familiar with, ya know?” Larissa laughed; I returned the laugh slightly nervously. What did she have planned for us to do under the bleachers? She seemed more responsible than someone who’d use drugs or alcohol when pregnant, and it didn’t seem like she wanted to fight me. Besides substance abuse and violence, under the bleachers pretty much just had the one activity that the “bad kids” tended to indulge in. I can’t say I wasn’t intrigued by the idea at this point. “Let’s sit over there,” she pointed to a two-seater bench bathed in shade and slatted light coming from the bleacher benches above.
Larissa sat first, then I sat about a foot away from her. She immediately scooted over so we were right up against each other. “So…” she drew the syllable out, apparently a bit uncomfortable herself at the moment. “I’ve kinda noticed how much you’ve been looking at my belly. Which is fine! I was just wondering…would you like to see it? Touch it maybe, even?” She blushed.
I blushed. “Y-yeah, I’d…I’d love to see and touch it, if that’s okay?” Smiling widely and eyes large with excitement, she nodded her head up and down dramatically. She slowly pulled her tank top up to just below her breasts, baring the entirety of her bump.
I was in total awe, jaw literally hanging open. It was absolutely gorgeous. Perfectly round, tight as a drum, and almost shiningly smooth. It was free of blemish, its most prominent details an outie belly button and a dark linea nigra (I’d later learn the term) stretching all the way down its center, leading the eye from bosom to crotch. There was a definite stirring in my own crotch.
I’m not sure how long I stared, lost in its wondrous glory. My reverie was finally broken by Larissa giggling. “Okay there, Jake?” I nodded, still wordless. “Go ahead and touch.” She took one of my hands and placed it atop the belly. I felt the softness of the skin tenderly, then pushed in just a bit and felt the tight firmness of what lay beneath. Without even thinking about it, I suddenly had both hands on it and was exploring all over its surface. Pressing in on various areas, Larissa told me what part of the baby I was touching or whether I had happened upon the rare unoccupied space.
The stirring in my crotch now felt like a full-blown hard-on, aided not only by the magnificent massage I had the pleasure to administer but also the occasional (and truly accidental) grazing of the bottom of her bra-free breasts that rested right on top of the bump. Her nipples were extremely hard and pointy, showing clear as day through her thin white tank. I wondered how much more of these sights and touches I could withstand before shooting in my pants hands-free.
After another indefinite (but certainly pretty long) amount of time, I looked up to Larissa’s face and saw her eyes pointed right down at my hard-on. She noticed my noticing her gaze and made an exaggerated play of checking to make sure the coast was still clear; we were indeed still all alone. “Can I lend a hand?” she asked coquettishly. I agreed, speech coming in halting, unconnected consonants but my agreement apparently getting through to her all right. She unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts then took my rock-hard cock out of the slit of my boxers, taking it in one hand as she used the other to lift her top and reveal her huge, heavy breasts and their deeply brown nipples. They were the first breasts I’d seen in person, and they were a sight to behold.
This was my first even remotely sexual experience with another person. I was flabbergasted. Was this truly happening? Did a topless girl have my dick in her hand? Was I even more turned on by her pregnant belly than by her fantastic tits for some reason? Many questions and uncertainties raced through my mind as she stroked slowly and rhythmically. “First time?” she asked softly. I nodded. “Close your eyes and enjoy yourself.” I took her advice, still lasting under two minutes even without visual stimuli. My orgasm was more intense than any I’d experienced from my own hands; I let loose a number of involuntary and not-so-sexy noises. It felt like I came for three or four times as long as I usually did, shooting rope after rope onto her welcoming hand. Finally I’d completed my climax and she rubbed my load from both sides of her hand onto a patch of grass on the ground next to her.
I caught my breath after a few moments, smiling as I made eye contact with her again. “Return the favor?” she asked, pulling her leggings down to her knees and revealing she’d neglected to wear panties today. I just managed to make out her pubic hair around the bump; it was tidily maintained (impressive with that belly!) and a little bit curly, lighter than the brown hair on her head. Her pussy was obscured by the angles of view and our postures, but I found it easily enough once I put my hand down there to explore.
It felt heavenly, hot and wet and silky. I had no technique, this being my first time dealing with female genitalia. I rubbed a bit, inserted a few fingers, played with her labia some…a variety pack of moves from a true novice. “Up from there,” she purred at one point. I moved my fingers up a bit. “More. I’ll tell you when you’re close.” I continued moving my fingers up slowly for a few seconds. “Stop. Find a little pearl-shaped part in the center, and be gentle but firm with it.” She was very good at giving these instructions, I thought, as I was massaging her clitoris in moments to a litany of moans escaping her lips. All told, I probably spent about 10 minutes getting her off (thrice) and loving every second of it. I had my other hand on her belly or tits throughout; it happened to be on her belly when she came the first time, the contractions it inspired in her midsection a joy to be able to feel. My hand remained glued to the bump for her remaining climaxes. And, unsurprisingly, I found I was hard again.
She noticed my new erection and smiled. “Lose the shorts.” She didn’t have to command twice: I stood and pulled off both shorts and boxers completely, sitting back down bottomless with cock sticking straight up. Leaning over carefully with her bump pressing firmly into my thigh, she took me in her mouth. Blowjobs were, it turned out, fucking incredible. If I hadn’t cum so recently by her hand, I imagine I would’ve shot in her mouth within 15 or 30 seconds. Even so close to my refractory period, I only managed to last 3 or 4 minutes this round. She swallowed my load, which I found indescribably hot.
I stood and put my underwear and shorts back on; she pulled her shirt back down to her navel and pulled her pants back up to just below her bump. We sat quietly for a few minutes, enjoying the warm air and post-orgasmic endorphins. “Well, the pregnant girl jerking off and blowing a casual acquaintance doesn’t exactly help my reputation as a slut, does it?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Well…maybe not. But this casual acquaintance certainly appreciates it!” She chuckled. “And you can count on my discretion, Larissa. I’m not going to brag to my friends or anything. This is just for us.”
She smiled and nodded. “Yes, exactly. Just for us. And hell, even if you did spread the word, I won’t have to see any of these people again after tomorrow. I trust you, though, Jake. I can tell you’re a man of your word.”
I paused for another minute, formulating what I wanted to ask her. Finally, I thought I was ready. “Can I…Can I see you again before…?”
Smiling sadly, she shook her head. “No, I don’t think so, Jake. This was great, but this was just this one time. High school’s done. We have to move on. This was a fun last memory to make, though. Thank you.”
“Thank you, Larissa. And I totally get it. Time to move on.”
“Time to move on.”
I may have moved on from Larissa after our encounter under the bleachers, but I’ve yet to move on from my obsession with pregnant ladies. What an amazing introduction to the fetish…
I can pinpoint the start of my pregnancy fetish to the day.
I was 18 and it was a formative late morning of multiple firsts in my life, and it all happened on my penultimate day of high school. Senioritis having long since thoroughly set in, I was leaving mid-third period for a totally unnecessary college visit I’d scheduled at the last minute. When I left the calculus classroom, though, I saw a fellow senior attempting to clean out her locker.
Her name was Larissa and she was very, very pregnant. I’d gone to school with her for as long as I could remember, and she’d been in most of my honors and AP courses through sophomore year, when she seemed to turn into something of a “bad girl.” We’d been on friendly terms when we had classes together, but I’m a bit embarrassed to admit that, like most of my classmates, I’d sort of lost track of her (and/or been intimidated by her) when her personality seemed to change mid-high school. Once she’d become visibly pregnant halfway through senior year, there seemed to be some unspoken agreement amongst the student body that she should be shunned. I was certainly guilty myself of ignoring her in my discomfort at her condition. We’d wave to each other in the hallway and say “Hi,” but that was pretty much the extent of our relationship at this point.
There she was in the otherwise deserted hallway, 8 1/2 month bump pressed against the locker adjacent to hers as she attempted to bend down and access her belongings. She groaned loudly as she managed to grab a few loose pieces of paper, which she proceeded to drop into the trash bin she’d dragged to the locker. It was a pathetic sight and an opportunity to do something nice for someone who really seemed like she could use a kindness.
She was wearing black flip flops, pink leggings that only reached the bottom edge of her swollen midsection, and a thin white tank top that showed substantial cleavage up top and her bare belly up to her navel at the bottom. She was in violation of any number of dress code statutes, but I supposed those in charge of enforcing the code were probably as uncomfortable around the pregnant teen as everyone else was. I couldn't imagine Larissa gave much of a shit about her attire, what with the pregnancy unavoidably drawing all the attention. My eyes went to the bare skin of her baby bump instantly and wanted to stay there, for reasons I found perplexing at the moment and see as inevitable now.
Larissa groaned at the effort of straightening her back once she'd gotten her hands on two or three papers. "H-hey, Larissa," I began haltingly. She turned and looked at me, smiling slightly. "Can I give you a hand with that?"
Her smile widened. "Hey. That obvious I'm flailing over here, huh? Thanks, Jake. Could you help with all this crap I can't reach on the bottom?" I got to my knees next to her, my eyes precisely level with her partially-bared belly, the sight of which left me momentarily frozen and speechless.
I finally regained my faculties, at least enough to speak. "All going in the trash?" She nodded. It was mostly crumbled papers, beat-up folders and a few articles of gym clothes down there.
"Lockers are really not designed for pregnant girls," she mused. "Just like every desk in the school. Or every table in the cafeteria. Or high school society in general." She chuckled, cradling her belly in both arms as I tossed items into the garbage. "Sorry, I don't mean to complain. It's just...challenging, you know? Everyone both ignores and can't keep their eyes off me. I can just about feel the shame in the air around me. All the fucking time..."
She sort of trailed off, and I felt the need to apologize for any part I may have played in her shaming. "I'm so sorry you've been treated that way. And that I haven't been friendlier lately. You deserve a lot better. High school sucks."
Larissa smiled and reached down to pat my shoulder. "Thanks, Jake, I really appreciate that. I could’ve used you 4 months ago, but it’s still nice to hear a few kind words now.”
I blushed as I stood back up, bottom of her locker fully cleared. “I’m…sorry, Larissa. I’ve seen the looks at you, heard the gossip and shaming. I could’ve done more, been a friend to you. I honestly can’t imagine what you’ve gone through. Or how fucking brave you are. Sticking it out to finish school as…well, as pregnant as you are? It’s admirable stuff, truly. Your next year may look a lot different than mine and our other fellow graduates, but you made your choice and you own it, showing up here every day and weathering the staring and murmurs to get your diploma on time. Impressive, impressive stuff.” She took both my hands in hers, making sustained eye contact and smiling. My eyes wanted to break from hers and go back down to her exposed lower bump…and they did so…repeatedly.
She clearly noticed and smiled at my inability to keep from staring at her bared flesh. Releasing one of my hands, she closed her locker and started pulling me down the hall with the hand still grasping one of mine. “Come on, let’s go for a walk. The locker can wait, right?” I nodded and smiled, eager to spend more time with her for reasons I still couldn’t quite pin down. My bullshit college visit was now 100% off the table.
We exited the building into warm sunlight and deserted school grounds. “I haven’t had much company lately,” she told me, still holding my hand. “It’s really great to talk to someone nice.” Larissa led me towards the track and football field area, stopping suddenly about halfway there. “You’re 18, right?” she asked. I nodded. She exhaled in relief, squeezing my hand. “Good, good. Me too!” This was the most I’d ever held hands with a girl, and I wondered how obvious my sweating palms were to her. Anyway, we continued our journey and found the sporting area as devoid of other folks as the hallway and walk over there had been.
“Would you like to walk around the track a few times?” I hazarded a lame guess. She smiled at my naivety and shook her head.
“No, I thought maybe under the football bleachers would be nicer. A place where a girl who gets herself into my condition is nice and familiar with, ya know?” Larissa laughed; I returned the laugh slightly nervously. What did she have planned for us to do under the bleachers? She seemed more responsible than someone who’d use drugs or alcohol when pregnant, and it didn’t seem like she wanted to fight me. Besides substance abuse and violence, under the bleachers pretty much just had the one activity that the “bad kids” tended to indulge in. I can’t say I wasn’t intrigued by the idea at this point. “Let’s sit over there,” she pointed to a two-seater bench bathed in shade and slatted light coming from the bleacher benches above.
Larissa sat first, then I sat about a foot away from her. She immediately scooted over so we were right up against each other. “So…” she drew the syllable out, apparently a bit uncomfortable herself at the moment. “I’ve kinda noticed how much you’ve been looking at my belly. Which is fine! I was just wondering…would you like to see it? Touch it maybe, even?” She blushed.
I blushed. “Y-yeah, I’d…I’d love to see and touch it, if that’s okay?” Smiling widely and eyes large with excitement, she nodded her head up and down dramatically. She slowly pulled her tank top up to just below her breasts, baring the entirety of her bump.
I was in total awe, jaw literally hanging open. It was absolutely gorgeous. Perfectly round, tight as a drum, and almost shiningly smooth. It was free of blemish, its most prominent details an outie belly button and a dark linea nigra (I’d later learn the term) stretching all the way down its center, leading the eye from bosom to crotch. There was a definite stirring in my own crotch.
I’m not sure how long I stared, lost in its wondrous glory. My reverie was finally broken by Larissa giggling. “Okay there, Jake?” I nodded, still wordless. “Go ahead and touch.” She took one of my hands and placed it atop the belly. I felt the softness of the skin tenderly, then pushed in just a bit and felt the tight firmness of what lay beneath. Without even thinking about it, I suddenly had both hands on it and was exploring all over its surface. Pressing in on various areas, Larissa told me what part of the baby I was touching or whether I had happened upon the rare unoccupied space.
The stirring in my crotch now felt like a full-blown hard-on, aided not only by the magnificent massage I had the pleasure to administer but also the occasional (and truly accidental) grazing of the bottom of her bra-free breasts that rested right on top of the bump. Her nipples were extremely hard and pointy, showing clear as day through her thin white tank. I wondered how much more of these sights and touches I could withstand before shooting in my pants hands-free.
After another indefinite (but certainly pretty long) amount of time, I looked up to Larissa’s face and saw her eyes pointed right down at my hard-on. She noticed my noticing her gaze and made an exaggerated play of checking to make sure the coast was still clear; we were indeed still all alone. “Can I lend a hand?” she asked coquettishly. I agreed, speech coming in halting, unconnected consonants but my agreement apparently getting through to her all right. She unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts then took my rock-hard cock out of the slit of my boxers, taking it in one hand as she used the other to lift her top and reveal her huge, heavy breasts and their deeply brown nipples. They were the first breasts I’d seen in person, and they were a sight to behold.
This was my first even remotely sexual experience with another person. I was flabbergasted. Was this truly happening? Did a topless girl have my dick in her hand? Was I even more turned on by her pregnant belly than by her fantastic tits for some reason? Many questions and uncertainties raced through my mind as she stroked slowly and rhythmically. “First time?” she asked softly. I nodded. “Close your eyes and enjoy yourself.” I took her advice, still lasting under two minutes even without visual stimuli. My orgasm was more intense than any I’d experienced from my own hands; I let loose a number of involuntary and not-so-sexy noises. It felt like I came for three or four times as long as I usually did, shooting rope after rope onto her welcoming hand. Finally I’d completed my climax and she rubbed my load from both sides of her hand onto a patch of grass on the ground next to her.
I caught my breath after a few moments, smiling as I made eye contact with her again. “Return the favor?” she asked, pulling her leggings down to her knees and revealing she’d neglected to wear panties today. I just managed to make out her pubic hair around the bump; it was tidily maintained (impressive with that belly!) and a little bit curly, lighter than the brown hair on her head. Her pussy was obscured by the angles of view and our postures, but I found it easily enough once I put my hand down there to explore.
It felt heavenly, hot and wet and silky. I had no technique, this being my first time dealing with female genitalia. I rubbed a bit, inserted a few fingers, played with her labia some…a variety pack of moves from a true novice. “Up from there,” she purred at one point. I moved my fingers up a bit. “More. I’ll tell you when you’re close.” I continued moving my fingers up slowly for a few seconds. “Stop. Find a little pearl-shaped part in the center, and be gentle but firm with it.” She was very good at giving these instructions, I thought, as I was massaging her clitoris in moments to a litany of moans escaping her lips. All told, I probably spent about 10 minutes getting her off (thrice) and loving every second of it. I had my other hand on her belly or tits throughout; it happened to be on her belly when she came the first time, the contractions it inspired in her midsection a joy to be able to feel. My hand remained glued to the bump for her remaining climaxes. And, unsurprisingly, I found I was hard again.
She noticed my new erection and smiled. “Lose the shorts.” She didn’t have to command twice: I stood and pulled off both shorts and boxers completely, sitting back down bottomless with cock sticking straight up. Leaning over carefully with her bump pressing firmly into my thigh, she took me in her mouth. Blowjobs were, it turned out, fucking incredible. If I hadn’t cum so recently by her hand, I imagine I would’ve shot in her mouth within 15 or 30 seconds. Even so close to my refractory period, I only managed to last 3 or 4 minutes this round. She swallowed my load, which I found indescribably hot.
I stood and put my underwear and shorts back on; she pulled her shirt back down to her navel and pulled her pants back up to just below her bump. We sat quietly for a few minutes, enjoying the warm air and post-orgasmic endorphins. “Well, the pregnant girl jerking off and blowing a casual acquaintance doesn’t exactly help my reputation as a slut, does it?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Well…maybe not. But this casual acquaintance certainly appreciates it!” She chuckled. “And you can count on my discretion, Larissa. I’m not going to brag to my friends or anything. This is just for us.”
She smiled and nodded. “Yes, exactly. Just for us. And hell, even if you did spread the word, I won’t have to see any of these people again after tomorrow. I trust you, though, Jake. I can tell you’re a man of your word.”
I paused for another minute, formulating what I wanted to ask her. Finally, I thought I was ready. “Can I…Can I see you again before…?”
Smiling sadly, she shook her head. “No, I don’t think so, Jake. This was great, but this was just this one time. High school’s done. We have to move on. This was a fun last memory to make, though. Thank you.”
“Thank you, Larissa. And I totally get it. Time to move on.”
“Time to move on.”
I may have moved on from Larissa after our encounter under the bleachers, but I’ve yet to move on from my obsession with pregnant ladies. What an amazing introduction to the fetish…
