Birthing Nightmare – Heart Pregnancy

Laia didn’t know how or why, but she has an unusual and life-altering pregnancy – Instead of her young being held in her stomach, it is her heart which houses her growing. Problem is that she keeps getting pregnant and they have no way of escaping her heart and so the multiple youth grow bigger and bigger inside her heart.


Up until recently, Laia never had any problems with her health. Since childhood, this intersex Buizel had eaten healthy and exercised on the daily to keep her anthropomorphic body skinny and fit, carved with sensual sleek muscles but not too carved – carved just right. Laia was a competent track runner and fitness coach that made a decent amount of money at age 23, many considered her to be a great example to follow about how to live a long and flourishing life. Because of all this, it came as a surprise when Laia started to feel chest pains that persisted for a long time and made it difficult to do cardio or fitness training.
At first, it was a little… tick. Something off about her heartbeat, irregular. Nothing to be concerned about.
At first, she thought she was sick or overextended herself. So, she eased up on the workouts and minimized her eating for the next few days to try and stem the literal heartaches she was dealing with. Instead of helping, the pain only got worse. So bad it had gotten, that she was afraid that her heart would stop if this kept on going. There were moments when it felt like her chest would burst or her heart was grinding against her lungs and bones. This was not good, and it was high time she got this checked out before it became any worse.

She went to Braderburg hospital at 7 PM to get a scan. Sitting patiently in the waiting room for the cardiologist to call her in, she combated her nerves and concerns, fears and anxiety. Her right hand was gripping her sizable chest, feeling the constant sting and burning sensation in her heart. As if touching or caressing would alleviate the pain. It didn’t. Her body was beginning to sweat due to the frequency of these aches, making the poke-anthro wonder if she was experiencing a heart attack or not. It was just yesterday that these aches came and gone every few hours, but now it happens every dozen minutes or so. Great amounts of worry were easy to see on her visage, her eyes moving here and there to try and distract herself from the shooting stinging by looking at the TVs or the nearby health posters and notices.
“Laia?” Asked Dr. Emmenthal, approaching her seat with his hand on the clipboard. Looking up at him with a pained smile etched on her face, she hunched her back forward and tightened her grip against her chest while gradually rising up to a stand.
“Yes, doctor… These heartaches are beginning to get outta hand, and I’m starting to worry.” Reading the distress and pain that radiated from her body, he gestured for her to follow him to his scanner room.
“I see. Come with me and we’ll check it out.” She followed him into the hallway before turning left and going three doors down. Dr. Emmenthal led her into a room with a full-body scanner.
“Before we get started, please tell me all about your condition.” He said, sitting himself down and producing a pen to begin jotting information onto his notepad.
Eyeballing the machine before bringing her gaze to him, she gave a heavy sigh, fighting against the pain to give her story once more. “So, I began to experience heartaches over a week ago, and I thought it was because of my exercise or my diet. But when I stopped working out and lightened up my eating habits, the pain gradually got worse and more frequent… Now, it feels like my heart is being torn apart from the inside, and I don’t know if it’s a clogged artery or something else.” She winced as another lightning bolt went through her heart, “And it hurts.”
Filling out all of the information, there were some inconsistencies in her descriptions that made it hard for him to conclude if she had heart disease or something else. Hardly mattered, the machine would allow for a richer context. Nodding his head softly and perking his eyebrows from time to time. When he finished jotting stuff on the page, he put the notepad aside and stood up. Grabbing his stethoscope, he pointed over at the low-cut hem of her pink t-shirt. “Spread the opening for me. I’m gonna listen to your heart. Now, take some deep breaths for me.”
Obligingly, she moved her hands up to the sides of the V-cut of her tight, pink t-shirt. Spreading it apart to expose the topside of her chest, it was clear that this Canine did not wear anything underneath. Putting the earpieces into his ears, the doctor placed the scope against the exposure of her left breast. “Breathe deeply through your nose. In… Out.” She did so, enabling him to hear something very odd within her heart. It felt like a lot of squishing and slushing happened inside of it, her heartbeat higher and more pronounced than usual. His right eyebrow perked, moving the stethoscope around her left breast and the sternum to get multiple different takes on her heartbeat. Every last one was just as strange, and it was unlike anything he had ever heard before. It almost sounded like the heartbeat itself had many multiple heartbeats also.
Seeing the concerned look on his face made her worry as well, her grip against the V-cut tightening as she tried to keep herself calm.
After a good while, he pulled his stethoscope away and unlatched the earpieces. “Hmn… that sounds very odd. I don’t think I’ve heard anything quite like what I just heard from you…” Having said this, he gestured to the machine. “Undress and lay on your back against the bed. I’ll run the machine and see what’s wrong.”
Turning to face the machine, the pain and concern in his voice offset the embarrassment that came with ditching her clothes and showing her curvy body to the doctor. Her top was the first to go, then pulling her plaid skirt down to join the former article. Her high-heeled shoes were the last to go, leaving her pink panties on.
Bringing herself on top of the bed, she straightened her body in a supine position. Straightening her arms to her sides, she took a deep breath while focusing straight upward.
He made his way to the controls, turning the machine on and setting it up for a full-body scan. After he set the timer up, he explained he would need to leave the room for safety reasons. “The scan ought to take a couple of minutes, so stay put.” With a gentle nod of her head, Laia remained still as the platform slowly pulled her into the machine to perform a thorough scanning.
A whole bunch of whirring, buzzing, and strange sounds later, she was guided out of the machine. Reentering the office to look at the results from the nearby monitor, a very confused look was clear on his face when checking the scans a few times over. He pressed the print button to have the results on paper, all the while Laia picked up her garb and redressed herself. She looked at the scan-print that he was holding out for her, pointing at the heart-area with a shocked look on his face. “Laia… you… you’re pregnant!”
“I’m sorry. Come again? And what does that have to do with my heart?”
“Well…” —-

It was quite a surprise to learn that her heart problems did not come from a disease or from overexertion in exercise, but rather from pregnancy. Now, how did she end up getting over a dozen Canine pups growing inside of her heart of all places? None of the doctors could figure it out, but she decided not to abort any of them even though the risks of keeping them were great. Of course, in all reality, aborting them was as dangerous, if not more dangerous, then just having them. Frankly, a handful of doctors didn’t know shit about shit. But the idea of being a parent was a very uplifting thing, and although this was happening earlier than she planned, she was more than ready to have these babies. Even if her body was… confused on how to properly have babies.
The first couple of months of pregnancy were very unusual. Laia had never been pregnant before and started to feel the effects of just that alone. Moodiness, cravings, aversion to foods she normally loved, cramps, morning sickness. Everything and anything that a pregnant woman had to suffer and endure, she had that in spades, and oh so much more. But that was for a normal pregnancy — her pregnancy was not strictly normal.
The growth of her heart, the unusual pressure, and the expansion of a vital and critical organ, all of these things accompanied her unusual and unique pregnancy. But the expansion was more than her body could tolerate. She could barely breathe without having her ribcage stifle such efforts. And when she was excited, scared, or anything that jump-started that heart, she could feel it pulsing and pumping so clearly that it echoed through her ears, she could feel her very body move in tandem with the throbs, but worse yet, she could feel the constriction of her breastplate. Her heart was growing larger and larger but her bones? They stayed the same size, same position… an unrelenting wall that did not give one inch, leaving the heart to jackhammer against it — its soft fleshiness pounding against bone.
In the coming months, it became clear that her ribcage would have to be removed for the sake of her safety and those of her little ones: otherwise, her heart and the kids would be crushed against her bones as the pups grew. The surgical procedure was both very expensive and life-altering, but it happened without a hitch. Without any bones along her chest, she had to be much more careful about moving and posturing. A fall or collision against anything hard could cause nasty damage to her organs and her heart-womb. Laia’s heart was practically without defense, worse? It was larger now. A bigger target as well as exposed and vulnerable.
Three months into the pregnancy, she had relocated her bedroom to the first floor of her house in order to avoid taking the stairs. Making her way to the kitchen, her chest had grown dramatically in size due to the dozen pups stretching her heart out to the point of making it look like she had a third boob. Or at least, a breast massing from one of her others. Her white tank top was straining due to obvious reasons, her actual breasts splayed further outward and created a pronounced muffin top along the low hemline of the article. The jiggling and bouncing of her chest were even more pronounced as a result, the poke-anthro being able to hear the jostling of those pup embryos in the protuberance that was her expanded heart.
It seemed that her body was still getting accustomed to the very concept, the rarity, that it was hosting a litter of pups in her heart. At times, her heart would beat rapidly, other times, it was stilled to a crawl that was so low and inconsequential that she just knew that it wasn’t exactly strictly safe – to say the least. But, in all likelihood, nothing about this was safe. But, ultimately, she had committed to the course of action of giving birth to her lovely little baby children and would be willing to just suck it up and accept the circumstances with a bright little smirk that creased with thin trepidation.
Of course, she followed up with her doctors about her continued and odd heartbeat, but they had, now knowing the origins and underlying reason as to why she was experiencing such things, shrugged and told her that this wasn’t that unusual for such an unusual manifestation.
Fucking doctors.
It was uncomfortable, to say the least, where once she enjoyed the sensation of her jiggling, wobbling breasts, which were now a source of awkward discomfort. Her entire chest felt tender. Sore. But nothing quite like that jutting fleshy pouch of a heart. She had taken to sleeping in odd manners. Not on her stomach, obviously, not on her back because the weight against her chest was becoming unbearable, and often on the side, her third breast expansion would cause her back to ache. She lost a lot of sleep, but she opted to toss and turn from her back, to one side, to the other, back to back. This had become second nature after a few nights of this unusual alteration. But now, after a while, it was just another night. She would wake up in the dead of night, groggy and sleepless, and tired. She would bring her hands up to her eyes and brush against that lovely massive baggage against her chest. Knock it a little, stir the hive if you will, and the little critters that were growing inside her body would be awoken. They were so tiny and small and probably adorable and cute. Until they would kick against her heart walls. They would not make any real noticeable jostles to her flesh, nothing that could be seen, but oh, oh how she could feel it. She felt the echo of its force, the splashback of her fluids as the limb jutted upward and slapped right back to its normal, natural, curled position. And it felt like love. Uncomfortable love, but love all the same.
They were saying ‘Hello Mommy’. Not all at once, of course, but one by one, periodically, they all communicated their life to her in a very visceral way.
Accidentally knocking the bee hive would awaken all those little growing bundles of joys and they would stir and shift. She learned to accept this as just growing pains, she also learned that she needed to be significantly more careful with that massive mound that jutted from her chest.
But it was all okay. She was loving being pregnant, there was a glow about her, surrounding her. Life seemed so much richer, fuller. She always had something to live for, and now she had so much more to live for – if such a thing was even possible, but it was, she was living proof of that. It was an undeniable truth that she instinctively knew. And as that third breast continued to expand, her joy and jubilation just became much, much more intense and satisfying.
Really, had she not had the massive maternal instinct that she had, she would be holed up and in despair, but she was not built like that – she was built to host babies, many babies… anywhere – Apparently.

She’d learned to be quite a bit more careful in all activities, such as even opening and closing the fridge. Nearing her fridge, waddling, she turned her body to the right so that her left hand could grasp against the handle without her arm pressing against her oversize chest and potentially crushing her puppies, and more importantly, her own swollen expanded heart. After pulling it open, she took a step back and moved her hand to the topside of the door to stop it from fully opening. Reaching in with her right hand, she took out a carton of almond milk, some parfait that was delivered to her home yesterday, and some blueberries to eat. All jacked up with the nutrient properties her doctor told her she would need. She would usually make something, but the constant throbbing and aching in her chest and the many ramifications of removing her rib cage for her growing heart made it too risky a venture to do so anymore. What if she leaned her torso too close to the countertop and squashed her heart and babies against the edge? Nope, just safe to eat whatever it was as it was.
Everything, nowadays, seemed ill-conceived. She operated under the premise of every soon-to-be mother, hyper-critical and cautious.
Already having some plates and cups set on the kitchen table, she moved the goods over to the surface to begin eating. There was one seat located at the table, a stool. Her old chairs were stowed away since they had armrests, and those would pose an issue once her chest got big enough to strain against them. And her heart would grow bigger, that was for certain, especially Pulling the seat out enough for her to sit down without pressing her unprotected bust against the table’s edge. She kept her back straight while reaching over to take the almond milk and pour it into her pre-cleaned cup. Well, not pre-cleaned anymore. She had opted to ditch her dishes for something more dispensable in the way of paper plates, plastic silverware, and of course, those bright red little plastic cups. No fuss or mess, just use and toss.
Carefully bringing the sweet milk to her lips by keeping her right arm outward, she took a big sip before being interrupted by a phone call. She noted that she might need to start using straws. Her phone was currently in the charger on the countertop behind her, and she was not in the mood to get out of her seat and risk squashing her heart-womb against the countertop. So, she took advantage of the Audible Commands she applied through the settings. “ANSWER!”
“Hey, Laia. How have you been faring ever since the big surgery?” It was her longtime friend, Jeremy.
Taking a spoonful of parfait into her mouth, she softly stroked at the wriggling bulge where her sternum once was, it was squishy and malleable. It sank in with a squish. The only solidity was the number of puppies that were slowly reaching maturation. They were not babies per se, but their little tiny bodies could be felt. “It’s been a painful and difficult surgery, but I’ve recovered from it and am doing okay.”
She had yet to determine who was responsible for giving her these pups, so it was still in the air regarding who had managed to impregnate her heart. The complication of a DNA test was that they couldn’t really perform it until after the birthing. She was, however, pretty confident that Jeremy was not the father.
“Good to hear. I can’t imagine the struggles that come with your heart holding a dozen babies.” Nodding her head in agreement, while spooning a few blueberries into her mouth. She looked over at a photo that hung on the western wall: a photo of her winning first place in a marathon last year. That seemed so very far away now. She had a thin feeling of remorse to what was, and what could have been.
But, her life trajectory had just… altered, was all. Not really a downswing.
“Yeah, but I promised myself to do whatever it takes to ensure my kids are born without any difficulties or malformations… Nmmmh… fuck…” A strong bout of jostling against her heart from the pups happened, making her pat at the middle bulge to try and calm the embryos down. Or were they more than embryos now? They were something, and they were thumpers. Thumpers that awoke her in the middle of the night, thumpers that caused her anxiety and discomfort, thumpers that caused her concern as it seemed like irregular and uncontrollable heartbeats.
And these thumpers, they were coming on more often, more strong, more full and complete.
“You think you’re going to need help, soon? Not just with funding for a heart transplant. You’re going to need a caregiver. Someone to take good care of you when the pain becomes too much or it’s too hard to maneuver around.” A tinge of worry hit her when hearing those words, taking a deep sip of her cup before turning her head around to agree. “Yeah. I have something planned for when it’s time but don’t worry. I got this.”
She did have this in a planned manner, but that didn’t mean she actually had it. She tried not to think about the future, she was so concerned and worried about the day-to-day activities to add to the stress of the possible future.
She glanced down at her distended heart, both of her pawed fingers gently brushing against it, soothing. She felt the sensation, it made her exhale with relaxation, “Don’t you guys worry about it, Mommy knows best.”
She continued to lovingly caress that outstretched new body appendage. Her heart. Her heart was given limb. It was bulging at roughly two feet, and pretty much just as wide, “And girls.” She giggled.
Motherhood would fit her like a glove.

It was several months into the pregnancy and she felt like she had a handle on the situation. Well, handle enough. Partially. You know what? She was just in good spirits. She had gotten a handle on quite a bit of thing in regard to her surprise pregnancy, mostly her ability to sleep, which was helped along with her brand new pillow which she placed reverently under that expanded third breast to ease the sensation of its weight. It helped. A lot.
Laia had become very attuned to her new dimensions and had become somewhat of a master circumvented of otherwise impossible obstacles. But this did not mean she did not have challenges that were much more difficult than just reaching a certain way, sleeping in a pampered posture, or walking with her weight distributed on her feet just right. No, at five months into the pregnancy, her chest bulged outward in such a way that even the largest of large shirts would curl and limp up against her smooth and still athletically solid tummy, revealing it, the lion’s share of the material nestling against that jutting out fleshy protrusion. One of the blessings of this unorthodox pregnancy was that she retained her sensual figure. Well, at least in her abdomen.
The thumping started too with vengeance. At five months, she felt it, could sense it, and could hear it because it reverberated throughout her body, but it was so quiet that it was something only she could hear. Feel. Sense. It was becoming a normal happenstance, occurring once every day.
Five months bled into six and seven and the alterations to her form were much more prominent and distinct. The pregnancy bump originated in the breast, swelling it up, but when the rib cage was removed, it gave much room for the den of her litter to expand not from the breast, but more or less from the center of the chest, giving her the look that she had a third breast. This breast, however, was unlike a normal one – as far as a third breast being normal goes. It swelled in every possible dimension, not outward like a phallus, but bloomed spherically more akin to an elongated ball. It made it increasingly difficult to operate day-to-day things.
She was savvy and nimble and quite adept with the growth of her heart, but now it was becoming a monster of an issue. It was suggested by her doctor that she should seek independent help. Laia considered It.
But it wasn’t the issues of limited mobility that truly were getting to her. It was, as she would now and forever refer to it, Thumpers. Somewhere between the fifth and sixth month of pregnancy, they became much more active. The little bundles of joy would toss and turn, they would shift, they would wake up, they would explore their new blessed life, they would do all of that, and usually that alive-ness manifested in the churning of heart, but also their little paws and feet jerking this way and that. Thump.
Each time her heart would race, they would stir and add to the music with their little limbs drumming against her insides. Her thumpers were not hollow knocks on wood, but sloshy little splats as the heart struggled to circulate its additional required blood flow, it would also have a hollow tinge of her little wee ones joining in the escapade. An echo.
Laia would have to soothe them right on back to their rest by caressing her soft fingers along the massive jutting flesh from her chest. The soothing and maternal action was often something that she had begun to do even when no thumpers were thumping. Nothing was more tender than petting her own flesh, to lull the babies inside her to sleep.
It had been nine months since Laia learned of her pregnancy, and yet even when it was time for delivery, she was unable to get those pups out of her heart and into the world. Getting them out through her urethra was impossible since even one of them going through her renal system would utterly destroy her blood vessels, and the pain would be exponentially worse than what she was currently dealing with. It would easily eclipse the pain felt from passing a kidney stone. She could not birth them anally either, since the cardiovascular system was not linked to the gastrointestinal system. How about out of the mouth? At this point, a single pup would be too big to go through her neck without breaking her spine in the process.
All doctors couldn’t agree on one thing with this mysterious occurrence, but they did agree that she would need C-Section, or, apparently, a Heart-Section.
It was because of this dilemma that she’d not given birth yet, because the operation was not just a delivery, it would have to be combined with an immediate heart transplant also, but at least she was being taken good care of and the children were still able to live despite having been housed in the most precious of precious parts of the body.
Naturally though, at nine months, she learned that she couldn’t give birth to them. She needed to be on a heart transplant list. Luckily, her primary care doctor had realized that and immediately put her on such a list.
And yet…
Yet. She was still a good ole long way off from being in the real queue. So, for the duration? Those little puppies were stuck. But that did not, however, mean that their growth was stunted. Well, perhaps maybe, yes, stunted, but at nine months they were babies. Full-fledged babies. Many of them. Dozens.
She had an ultrasound to figure out the precise number and that yielded mixed and conflicting results. There were a great many who were baby sized, but there was also another batch of little devils inside her that were half that age. Apparently, whatever anomaly had produced children in her heart was also the gift that kept on giving. Regardless, there was just so much mass in her heart walls that they just couldn’t get a readout on anything.
Nobody knew for sure how this came to be, it seemed that that was all these doctors were good for, being unsure of everything and theorizing. One was that the sperm that had originally incubated her heart still remained and continued to make its way throughout her system, alive and well and using her body as a shelter for its prolonged life, swirling and circulating through her system until it found what it was endlessly searching for – the heart, where it would rest it’s tired little overworked tail and grow. This was one of many suggestions, but this seemed the most plausible.
The worst part? There was no way of them knowing if there was more sperm just cycling through her ventricles – in and out, in and out, around and around. Could she get pregnant a third time with another batch of little babies? How long would this happen? Was this now… a thing? Would… if all her babies were delivered, would that singular spunky sperm continue to impregnate her?
Only time would tell.
And time was telling a lot already.
Or… would she always be perpetually pregnant?
Laia was now nervously sitting in the hospital. Nine months. No birthing. No babies. No nothing. Her shirt was entirely off, petroleum jelly had been smeared and smothered against her heart womb and a fancy little scanning device that looked like a distant cousin of the scanner from the grocery store was working its way like a glacier around her fleshy baby crib.
“How many do I have?” Laia asked. She had tried to count them, and honestly, it wasn’t hard to,
A nurse chuckled that if they couldn’t get a reading on numbers now, they never would.
“Why do you say that?” Laia inquired.
“Well, they might be in your heart, but they are going to grow. And grow. Until we get them out. I doubt we can truly do a real ultrasound on you when that mass gets bigger. And, hunny, it’s going to get much, much bigger.”
“H…How big?”
The nurse shrugged, laughing but she retained a sense of calmness in her voice, it was the only thing that kept Laia leveled in the hospital. When she was out, when she was at home, when she was laying down in bed – that was when true concern and panic raced through her heart.
“Three, four… Ten times bigger than it is now?”
Laia looked at the massive jutting fleshy heart that gushed from her chest. It was already the size of a mini-fridge.
She gulped.
Her nervousness and anxiety caused her heart to race, she felt flush, her cheeks beaming red, she felt dizzy, unnerved — and of course, all this conspired to manifest them thumpers.
The nurse smiled widely, placing her hand upon that naked squishy soft yet firm leathery mass that protruded from the mother-to-be-eventually’s chest, “Awww. Look at that. Isn’t that so cute?” The nurse caressed the tough flesh, fingers running down the circular tapered end of the bulge.
“Yeah, whenever my heart races… they kinda… respond to it.”
“How does it feel?”
“Ever been pregnant? Kinda like how I imagine it would be for anyone pregnant except times it by a dozen. Well, maybe two dozen.” Laia smirked, trying to keep bright-eyed and mirthful, shoving that panic deep, deep into her still tight and taut athletically carved stomach.
The nurse made note that the sound of her beating sounded much akin to the thunderous clanking of an MRI machine.
Dun dun dun.
Dun Dun.

It was in the ninth month of pregnancy, right around the normal time, that she started to experience weird waves of nausea and dizziness unlike what she had experienced before. She felt feverish and light-headed. And then she started to feel a firm grip on her heart properly. It felt like a winter chill. It felt immediately wrong, out of place, not quite out of the ordinary. And then she started to heave her breath. Inhaling and exhaling. Gasping at times. She was in labor. This must be labor. She was due by all biological clocks, but that didn’t mean that she could or should be in labor.
But here she was, laying on her bed, her protruding heart racing like a jackhammer. It jutted out of her like an overfilled beach ball, just with an utter lacking of perfect spherical dimensions. She could see the bulge pulsate and grow a fraction bigger, expanding, before deflating. It went like this for some time, and with such fury, that it was hard not to imagine that she was going to have a heart attack.
The babies awoke. Not one by one. Oh no. Her throbbing, duressed heart, the loud thumping of her heart entirely, complete with the uptick in pumping blood circulation, it must be like an orchestra in her children’s ears – for it definitely was for her. She felt the blood in her ears, she heard her heart beating. She felt it. Her entire body throbbed. And now all of her lovely little liters were awake. The ones that she had housed for ten months, the ones she housed for six months, even those little new embryos that squirmed and still struggled to find finite shape were active and participating in this cacophony of sensations. Cramps were very much a part of the event.
Her hands jetted to the silken sheets of her bed, bunching and clutching them by the handful. Her body, was rigid and still.
Her breathing was laborious but practiced, inhaling and exhaling. She felt like a mutant blob. She was resting on her back and could truly see that naked third breast quite clearly and it indeed looked like a mutant blob. As if her children were encased by flesh-colored putty. The hands of various sizes pushed against their trappings. Seeking freedom.
And one did just that. She immediately felt a tiny little pup — probably a young little baby of four months old, manage to work itself out of the heart-shaped prison cell and earn its freedom. She immediately stilled, holding her breath at watching the miracle. Eyes bulging. She didn’t just see it’s hand or feet pressing against her, outlining its tiny little form for her amusement.
She saw the whole thing. The entire physique. The form entirely. From head to toe. It was still young, and underdeveloped. But it was distinctly a …
Not a pup.
It had a tail?
As it squirmed entirely free, she knew immediately what it was…
A Huntail.
This was no pup. No wonder it was able to slide its sleek little aerodynamic body free, liberating itself. She could see its form swimming out of her ventricle. It struggled with such zeal for freedom and life. And she could only watch it as it hunted for an opening.
And while her breathing was a mixture of deep and short, and she was in a little pang of pain, and her heart was racing, and the rest of her multi-batched children were trying themselves to find an opening, she watched strictly on her little squirmer.
“Come on little guy. Follow Mommy’s voice.” She said lovingly.
The little guy paused.
“Yup. Come on. Swim right on downstream.”
It was located in the middle of her bulge, pretty much five feet away from her directly upward.
It didn’t truly need to play find and seek. It just needed to let gravity do its thing, which wasn’t quite true because if that were the case, she could just lay on her back and pump out baby after baby.
It squirmed and swam through the outer portion of her throbbing heart, nuzzling itself against the taut tight flesh of her skin. She could see each and every little minuscule detail of its shape, form, and body. From head to tail. It would be a subject of concern if she hadn’t merely grown accustomed to having an oversized heart, or twenty to thirty creatures inside her chest.
The form disappeared just then as it neared her torso. She sucked in a heave of air as she felt a tightness. Her heart was steadily pumping away, but as the form disappeared, there was a sudden lack of freedom in her heart, a lack of circulation. Laia sucked in air and gasped, eyes rolling up in her head as she was experiencing not just the birth of a child from her heart to her body, but of it entering back inside her heart – where it would mix and mingle with his or her brothers and sisters.

The protrusion in her chest had become so astronomic that it was now impossible for her to walk or stand, she needed to be transported via a motor chair, the one old people and massively sloppy slobbery fat people used, but she was neither of these things, she just so happened to have a metric ton of biomass that accumulated in her chest. Also because of this, she could no longer wear any clothes. Not properly. She could, sure, but it was… complicated. The diameters and proportions were all askew. The modified shirts she had months ago? Nope. Didn’t fit. Of course, she tried to keep up with the times, getting new and customized elastic shirts, but as time passed, she couldn’t get the shirts crafted quickly enough to keep up with her growing need. She even opted to get shirts created far bigger than expected, her thought was that she would just grow into them. This, however, did not work at all. Elastic and malleable and stretchy material was all good and well but the very act of putting it on, taking it off, it wasn’t just uncomfortable, it was growing to be impossible – not to mention that she didn’t want to accidentally squash her children that were pent up and stuck in her beating heart.
Nothing could no longer be comfortably worn. Her breasts could no longer be seen, either. They easily blended into the huge mass that was her oversized womb heart. Some thought that she was morbidly obese at first, but upon closer inspection, they would see little limbs and faces moving about and making the giant bulge jostle and shimmy.
Inside a warehouse that had been repurposed to enable Laia to reside in, her loving caregiver, Manuel, used a remote control to move the twelve-wheeled platform that she spent most of her day in. Even with the high-powered engine that operated the moving platform, the wheels turned slowly for the safety of the expectant mother and her entrapped babies. One bump or collision could have her rolling off the platform, and that could easily lead to her heart and the kids getting crushed in the process. It did not help that the little ones loved to move frequently and grope, punch, and scratch against the lining of her ventricles.
And so, removable railings were put onto the contraption for her safety.
Going through the large, open doors to be led to the makeshift dining area, the poke-anthro wriggled her arms and legs while moving her eyes around to take in the scenery. With the heart-womb housing over three dozen pups, she was 12 feet tall from the bulge to the body. “They’re having a lot of fun today, eheheh.” She remarked, rubbing her right hand at the jostling and jiggling bulge. The bulge was naturally so large that she could never quite feel all of it, ever, and the tippy top of that hill was never something she could ever hope to caress, not now… Maybe not ever. A couple of seconds later, a hand from within the heart womb was able to grab at her. It was tiny, but it was distinctly a lovely little paw. The kids were way past due and were developing where they should never have been in the first place.
This was all ten months in, and she was still eagerly awaiting the transplant list. Which was quite fine with her, as the babies matured and became more burdensome, her love for them grew.
“There’s good news, Laia,” said the devoted caregiver after bringing her to an elevated table that had some kale fish salad ready for her. “The doctors at Emmerson Hospital told me that they got an artificial heart ready for you. Took em forever, but it had to be specially made for you. One of a kind. Tomorrow, they can operate on you to deliver the babies from your old heart. Then they will replace it with the new one.” Indeed, that did sound like amazing news. To be able to walk again and no longer feel the constant sloshing of her heart liquids, the sway and ebb and flow of her blood in her heart with each and every movement she took, and the crippling weight on her chest. And… the pumping. The endless little whirl of her heart as it did its most vital and necessary job.
She reached over to grab at the meter-long fork and spoon, bringing bushels of the salad over to her little maw to eat. She could have had someone feed her, it might be more appropriate, but it was, well, shameful, at least to her. It was bad enough she was, well, look at her! Her heart was bigger than her entire body and then some. It was like she swallowed two whole people and they were standing on her chest! She wasn’t hideous, or ugly. No, she looked like a freak. Naturally, she did not despair though, because she was afflicted with something far more precious than ego and vanity. She was afflicted with bunches of batches of babies.
This bout of shame did not prevent the caregiver from becoming increasingly strict as a term after the term came and went and expanded. He was very firm about his duties. Sometimes he would feed her, bathe her, plush her pillows, and that one special pillow for the babies and protruding heart. She refused at first but found her natural inclination of being submissive to overwhelm her need for autonomy and just allow him to take the wheel of her caregiving.
And as one might expect, there were other… things… she couldn’t see too personally and he was very adamant in fulfilling that also.
“That’s great. I can’t wait to finally see my babies face to face… Do you hear that, little ones? You won’t be stuck in here much longer.”
She had to put some leaves and fish onto the fork, and then she lowered the spoon to grip at the handle with both hands to guide the tip of the fork to her mouth. It was an awkward means of eating, but at least she was still able to feed herself despite all the setbacks. Chewing her salad happily, she then re-extended the fork to get some more. “I cannot wait… It’s been over a year since they were ready to be born, but you know: it’s hard to birth out of a heart, even if it is very symbolic.” She was able to hear a litany of muffled cries, giggles, and wiggles in response to her words, the mother interpreting this as them understanding what she said.
“That’s right, sweeties. You’ll finally get to experience life as you should. Mommy cannot wait to see you all, and I will take much better care of you once this operation is done.” She giggled when feeling the mass of overdue infants hopping around, flailing about, and shouting happily deep within the confines of her heart. Amazingly, the pain that she was feeling had been greatly offset by the happiness that was overwhelming her now, and she was certain her little ones shared the sentiment. After she had finished up her salad, she gave her caregiver the thumbs’ up to move her to the shower. Good thing she had no clothes on.
“Come on, let’s bathe.” Manuel had her back away from the raised table, then guided her across the warehouse to a massive bathing pool. Stopping the platform near the pool, he made his way over to a nearby crane to operate it. Bringing a net underneath of her body, he then pressed a button to rein in the net as it covered her heart protrusion. She was lifted from the platform and brought into the warm water of the bathing pool, where she was eased down just enough to cover everything but her head. Here, she and the kids were left to soak for half an hour. “I cannot thank you enough, Manuel, for all that you’ve done for me. I am going to pay you soooo handsomely after the op’s done and my babies are finally delivered.”
But it turned out that the heart transplant would not happen. No, not at all. The artificial heart did not meet the specifications, especially seeing as her body had now grown so accustomed to having a larger heart. What did this mean? They needed a real heart. Only the mysteries of biology could solve this issue, not technology.
Luckily she was on that massively long wait list.
A wait list that is projected to accommodate her in another year.
And so, after an entire year of caring, carrying, and coddling her young ones, they began to get unruly. They would press against the thin malleable flesh increasingly more forceful. They were far removed from real biological methodologies and were now trying to figure out how, oh how, could they get out of there. Of course, some had already tried.
It was two years into the initial pregnancy and she had grown gigantic. Her heart’s womb measured ten times her ordinary size. It expanded so wide that it was no longer the shape of an elongated breast or anything in a protruding manner, but a big ole round mass. It was squishy, it was malleable, and it contained the loose traces of a shape, but honestly, at no point in time could it ever be considered a definitive shape because of the mind-boggling amounts of babies that were endlessly and listlessly spooling, pulling, pushing, and squirming against the fleshy pouch they now resided in.
Laia felt her body betray her at every turn. As time stretched on, so to did her heart. But that was not all, this massive heart womb was not the entity of this new and, in her opinion, improved body. She had grown quite a sexual desire that burned throughout her loins. She was constantly dripping wet with excitement. Her needs were insatiable. She hungered and craved things that she never thought she would, a lust that echoed throughout her day-to-day activities. She saw Manuel as not just a caregiver, but as a sexual partner.
Truth be told, on more than one occasion, she came onto him with such a ferocity that even he was at first intimidated. She needed dick, she needed anything that involved sexual release. And her body just didn’t need it to satisfy some primordial lust or craving. It required it. Of course, Manuel was a man, and like all men, once they knew the rules, took to it like a fish to water. He was not in control. And yet, she felt very empowered by her submission.
Her heart was so monolithic and monumental that each beat was a great heave, it could be heard clearly several feet away, but as her heart expanded so too did the thudding. It wasn’t just the pressure of that organ expanding, noisily pumping blood throughout her body in such force, but it was the separate heart valves, she could actually hear the circulation of accumulating and draining of her blood. The multitudes of umbilical cords and placenta tissue is woven exquisitely, like an art piece, to the walls of her fragile girthy heart.
These umbilical cords often got coiled and tied together, but this only caused mild issues… she often found the need to shake her massive fleshy membrane with her arms wrapped under it, just to… loosen the cords.
Thumps of her heart turned into pumps, pounds, and jackhammers until she might as well have been her very own manufacturing machine, the product was babies; for she had been birthing in her heart-womb litter after litter upon litter. She couldn’t count them, but they grew inside her to not just little tiny critters, but full-fledged and developed babies that kicked and pawed at the malleable flesh. It gave her jitters. The flesh laying atop a convulsing, veiny mass of pregnant heart tissue was little more than silly putty, or playdoh for her en-massed children.
She needed a nice hard and brutal fucking to calm her addled nerves and racing heart, of course, the roaring of her giant heart far outstripped that of her passionate and desperate pleas from a more thorough pounding, but that just helped her climax the agitation away and allow her heart to beat normal… Well, normal in its current manifestation.
It would intensify each day after a mind-numbing, earth-shattering orgasm though – where she would need to repeat the process. Sometimes, she repeated it back to back… for safe measure.
Atop the massive want for release in a purely feral primal sense, Laia was endlessly assaulted with fake births that felt very much like real births, or what she supposed would be real birthing, because as of right now, she had no real experience in real birthing — just this… near constantly. When these fake births happened, she would feel a massive out-pour of viscous liquid fill her heart chambers only to be emptied out through her well-tended, and often, sore and tender pussy.
Her heart would race, braying ever so often as the youth, more baby sized than a toddler, would squirm around the heart chambers and shoot themselves out of a valve and descend its journey to her rapidly accommodating body. Some would outline their travel through her stomach, sometimes squirming and squiggling and squashing through the thin layer of flesh and muscle. Her inner workings must have altered and changed because at no point should a body actually be able to do the things that it did in her circumstances.
And truly, it wasn’t as if her biology was totally in harmony with the abnormality, given the fact that while she was assaulted with fake birth after fake birth, she’d yet to actually have an actual honest to god birth. No, not once.
The fake births might even have been painful yet she could not truly say one way or the other because of the accompanied squishing and sloshing of the excess blood thumping through her heart like a jackhammer was all she could hear and experience. It wasn’t pain that was debilitating, it was that sound that rocked the warehouse where she now resided. It crashed against the solid walls and bounced right back to her. Her entire body would throb and expand as blood rocketed through her enlarged veins. The sound was a deep and powerful thing, it transcended sound itself and was more of a body experience, than an ear experience.
When fake births took her, all she could do was lay wherever she was, both arms wrapping around the memory foam-like bulge from her chest. It was like a blob of flesh that raged and intensified and expanded and detracted and growled and roared and churned and pumped. It was very, very all-encompassing.
But that did not mean, however, that it was not unwanted. It re-invigorated her. It felt like life itself. She could hear her life, the life of her babies, her very much so children, and everything associated with it. It was a reminder of what she had become. And what she was becoming, because the changes were far from over.
She had yet to have a baby. But artificial birth was out of the question. No doctor would perform the surgery necessary. Her heart was as long as a china cabinet, as wide as a bey window – easily her heart was five times her size and it barely could retain its form, it was a pudgy blobbing half-formulated appendage now.
And so, she had come to terms with the prospect that the only way out was through, she needed to birth these babies naturally – whenever her body would allow it…
In the meantime?
She didn’t mind her massive heart, nor its general ordinary droning and pulsating. No, not even the fact that she had several, several generations of babies already hosted in her body…
and she had no doubt she would host many, many more.
And all was right with the world.
So long as she got her extra hormones pumped out of her the good ole fashion way.
She needed a bigger dick to do this though.

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