Oh god Sidney look at his perfect little head, you are being such a good strong mama for him right now. That’s it, push again, hard as you can now so he comes to full crown. I’m going to cup his head while you push, ok babe? I want to feel how big he is and how strong your pushes are. That’s it my love, bring our son into my waiting hands.
Happy Sunday, bunnies! Hope y'all are having a lovely weekend so far. I just want to share a free-for-all story that hopefully y'all enjoy reading.
Status: Complete
Word count: 2,091 words
Summary: A woman gives birth in the back row of an economy cabin over international waters.
Warnings: MDNI. 18+ only. This fic contains explicit depictions of pregnancy, labor, and birth. Unassisted in-flight birth, graphic crowning and delivery, gushing fluids, concealed labor and birth in a public setting, a nursing infant, a husband who jerks off to his wife giving birth secretly in public. All characters and scenes are purely fictional. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
"Ma'am, can I get you anything? A pillow, some water?"
The flight attendant — young, neat ponytail, name tag that said Cara — was already reaching for the overhead compartment before Reggie could answer, and Reggie kept her face as composed as she could manage, which was getting harder by the minute.
"Water would be great, thank you," she said, and her voice only caught slightly on the last word because the contraction that had been building for the last thirty seconds chose that exact moment to crest, rolling through her lower back and down into her pelvis with a deep, grinding force that made her press her thighs together under the blanket.
Cara set the cup on the tray and moved on down the aisle without a second glance, and Reggie let out the breath she'd been holding in a long, controlled stream. "Hoo... hoo hoo... hhhh."
"How far apart now?" Dax asked from the aisle seat beside her, not looking up from his phone.
"A minute forty," she said through her teeth. "Maybe less."
He set the phone face-down on his thigh and turned to look at her then, and she knew that look. She'd known it for twenty years, had catalogued every version of it, and this particular version had nothing to do with worry.
His eyes moved from her face down to the enormous, low-hanging globe of her belly, round and gravid and pressing heavily into her lap even with her knees drawn up as far as the seat would allow, and something in his expression settled into that private, focused attention that made her want to hit him and also made her stomach flip despite everything.
"You're fine," he said.
"I know I'm fine," Reggie said. "I'm just telling you how close I am."
Three rows ahead of them, their older three were out cold in a heap of travel pillows, the eldest with her mouth open and her neck at an angle that was going to hurt later. Nobody back here was awake.
The nearest passengers were a row up on the opposite side, both wearing noise-canceling headphones, completely sealed off from the world. The back of the cabin was dim and close and, for the moment, theirs.
“I knew we shouldn’t have flown to see your mother.” Reggie said bitterly through another tightening.
Theo stirred against her side and she guided him back to her breast without thinking about it, and he latched and settled immediately, his fat fist curling against her with the total confidence of someone who had never once in his eleven months worried about anything.
"Get the leggings down," Dax said with a wry smile.
Reggie stared at him. "We are in economy, lest you forget."
"And you are about to have a baby in economy," he said so calmly, it’s getting into her nerves, "so get the leggings down and keep the blanket over your lap, and nobody is going to see anything."
She hated that he was right.
She hated it with a specific, well-worn bitterness that had been accumulating since the seventh month when he'd first floated this whole scenario as though it were perfectly reasonable, but hating it didn't change the fact that not only their fifth baby currently lodged in her pelvis had a non-negotiable opinion about its arrival but she also deep inside love this whole idea.
She worked the leggings and her underwear down her thighs in the cramped space, shifting her hips, and got them free of one ankle and bunched around the other before she pulled the blanket back over herself.
She pressed her palm between her thighs and felt the swollen, taut heat of herself, her labia already full, bulging and aching, the baby's head bearing down so far into the birth canal that even the light pressure of her own hand sent a sharp wave of sensation flooding up through her core.
"It's right there," she said, and her voice had gone very low. "Dax. The head is about to come…hoooo–hooo hooo hoooo–”
He reached over and lifted the edge of the blanket just long enough to look, and she watched his jaw tighten in a way that had nothing to do with alarm.
"Yeah," he said, and let the blanket fall back. "It is." He grabbed his own blanket and set it over his thighs, too, trying to cover is growing bulge there, too.
The next contraction didn't give her a warning.
It arrived hard and low, seizing her from the base of her spine and driving straight down with a force that shoved the baby’s fat head forward against her hand, and she crammed her face into Dax's upper arm and bit down on the sound that tore up her throat.
"MMMPHH — nnHH — oh god —hooooooooo–hooo hooo hoooo–" She ground her teeth into his sleeve, her fingers pressing desperately against her vulva, feeling the head surge against them with every pulse of the contraction. Her perineum burned, already stretching, the whole front wall of her vagina pushing outward. "HhhhNNGH — Dax, it's pushing through, I can feel it pushing —"
"Don't fight it," he said, low in her ear.
"I'm trying to slow it down, if I just —" She shifted her hips and immediately regretted it because the movement brought the baby down another fraction and the pressure from her movement and the toddler she was carrying went from enormous to total. "HHMMPHH — okay, okay —hoooo hoooo hooooooo—"
"Stop trying to slow it down, Reggie."
"There are people on this plane," she hissed, lifting her face just long enough to say it.
"Half of them are asleep and the other half have their headphones in," he said, perfectly level.
She pressed her face back into his arm and bore down because her body had already made that decision, and she felt her labia spread around the advancing head, felt the deep hot stretch of her perineum pulling taut as the baby worked through her cervix and down through the last of the birth canal with the focused, patient insistence of a fifth child who had done this before.
"HhhhNNNGGH — MMPHHH —" The sounds came out in bursts against his sleeve, each one half-swallowed, pressed into the warm bulk of his arm. Her free hand fisted into the blanket. "It's coming through, I feel it coming through —"
"I know you do," he said, and his hand came up to press against the back of her neck, heavy and unhurried. His breathing had changed, she could hear it, the way it had gone slightly uneven, and she knew exactly what that meant.
"You are such an ass," she breathed into his arm.
"Head down," he said.
She put her head down on his arm.
Her palm cupped against herself felt the shift — the teardrop shape of the head pressing outward between her folds, small and firm and wet, pushing against the stretched ring of her labia with a force that made her clitoris ache from the inside out. The skin of her perineum was pulling to its absolute limit, and amniotic fluid was already leaking steadily over her fingers and soaking into her leggings beneath her.
"HHhhNNGH — MMMPHHHH —" She pushed into the next contraction, long and grinding, and felt the head advance another fraction and hold, lodged at its widest point with her labia stretched in a burning, stinging ring around the crown. "Ohhhh — MMPHHH — it burns, it burns so much —"
"Breathe through it," Dax said.
"Hoo hoo hoo — hhh — hoo hoo —" She panted through the worst of the stretch, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes from the sheer searing heat of it, her fingers spread wide against her perineum to ease what pressure she could. Her vulva was swollen and flushed and stretched fully open around the baby's skull, the shape of the head clearly visible to her own touch, every ridge and curve of it pressing against the taut walls of her vagina as it inched forward.
Through it all, her toddler suckled and slept, milk-drunk, it seems, on her engorged breasts.
Down the aisle, Cara passed through again with a drinks trolley and Reggie felt her go past without looking up, face pressed into Dax's arm, the blanket pulled high, breathing in hard controlled bursts through her nose.
Cara paused.
"Is she alright?" she asked Dax, keeping her voice low.
"Migraine," Dax said, without missing a beat. "She gets them on long flights. She just needs to stay still and keep her eyes closed."
A brief pause, and then the trolley moved on.
Reggie would have laughed if there had been any breath left in her body to do it with, but another contraction rolled in on the heels of the last one and she pushed, hard, bearing down with everything she had left, and felt the head inch forward into a full crown — fully out, fully free, sitting heavy and wet and slick in her cupped hand with amniotic fluid running in a warm, gushing stream down her inner thighs and pooling in the leggings beneath her, catching on the hem of the blanket.
"HHNNNN — MMMPHHHH —" The sound tore out of her muffled and desperate, her whole body trembling, and she felt Dax's hand press harder against the back of her neck. "Haaaahh — haaaah — okay — okay, the head is out, Dax, the head is —"
"I know," he said. "Keep going." at this point, he looked around and brought a hand under his blanket to reach inside his sweatpants, giving his hard and leaking cock a few pumps.
She snorted at what he did but bit her lip and stroked her thumb over the wet hair plastered against the skull between her legs, feeling the baby shift and rotate under her fingers, the presenting shoulder turning into position.
She knew this feeling. She loved this feeling, even now, even here, pressed into the back row of an economy cabin thirty thousand feet over the Pacific with her husband's arm as the only thing keeping her from making a sound that would wake every sleeping passenger from here to the galley.
She genuinely, in her bones, loved this.
“Dax,” she whispered hoarsely, and he looked down on her, eyes glossed over, hand pumping himself as discreetly as he can.
“Yeah, babe?”
“Kiss me…”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He leaned down and kissed his wife as he continued to pump himself, feeling his balls start to tighten a bit as they made out.
The next contraction built and she pushed into it, and the first shoulder eased through with a long, wet, squelching resistance that pulled a sharp, muffled cry from her throat.
"HHNN — MMPHHH — there — that's it —"
“Let me see, Reg.” He tells her and she sat back and slightly lifted the blanket just enough for him to see it.
“There you go—Mmmmpphhh—haaaaaah–hooo hooo hooo–”
One more push, shorter and decisive, and the second shoulder came free with a slick, gushing rush, and then the rest of the baby slid out into her waiting hands in a warm, wet flood of fluid and relief, trailing the last of the amniotic sac, and Reggie pulled her daughter up against her chest under the blanket and held her there, next to the nursing toddler.
Dax made a grunting sound as he came into the blanket draped over him.
“F–fuck yeah…”
Cara came back through with a stack of napkins six minutes later and stopped at their row again, looking at the blanket-covered situation with eyes that had gone rather wide.
"Oh my god," she said, keeping her voice very low. "Is that — did she just —"
"She did," Dax said, entirely unbothered.
Cara stood very still for a moment. Then she said, "I'm going to get the first aid kit and the senior attendant, and I'm going to need you to not move," and she was gone before Dax could answer.
Reggie looked at the babies on her, one toddler now milk-drunk and deeply asleep and the newborn just latching, her hair sticking to her forehead, her new daughter warm and breathing against her chest.
"You know she's going to file a report," Reggie said.
"Probably," Dax agreed.
Reggie looked down at the babies, then back up at her husband, and she laughed — short and exhausted and completely helpless, the sound muffled quickly against the top of her daughter's head.
"You are so lucky I actually love doing this," she said.
Dax's mouth curved, slow and satisfied. "I know," he said. “I can’t wait for us to do it again.”
-fin
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I feel so vulnerable yet so strong at the same, I’m completely naked on the side of my bed .. legs wide open ready to push. I can slowly feel my baby make their head to my opening, but as I feel my baby crowning I feel my other hole crowning too, both holes slowly opening and stretching, my partner flashes the flashlight on both openings and confirms I am in fact having a double crowning 🥵
She was merely one week away from her due date, as she waddled towards the doors of hell. At least that’s what it felt like as she anticipated hours upon hours of shopping. Her back was already aching, and she hadn’t even entered the department store yet.
Lara and her husband Ivan were expecting their first child. They were in the process of moving into their dream house. Unfortunately the moving car they’d hired had crashed earlier that week. No one was injured in the accident and their insurance covered the cost for their destroyed possessions, but here they were, one week before her due date, without a single thing for the baby. Or for themselves, for that matter - even their bed had been in that truck.
”Are you sure you don’t want to wait in the car?” asked Ivan, giving her a worried look. He had offered multiple times to just go himself, but she couldn’t just leave him to make all the decisions about their future furniture. The only furniture he’d owned before they got married was a wooden table and a ratty old pullout couch - to her great despair that couch was the only thing to survive the move - so she didn’t have much confidence in his furniture-picking abilities.
”I’ll be fine”, she said with more confidence than she actually felt, before striding determinately towards the doors of the department store. They had already spent over an hour in the car getting here, and her back was cramping painfully from the journey. Best thing to do was just to get it over with.
She started with a bathroom break, frowning when there was a bit more fluid than expected. It wasn’t gushing, though, so she convinced herself that it was nothing to worry about. With how much the baby had dropped, maybe it was pressing harder on her bladder than she’d thought. She dried herself, pulled up her leggings and adjusted her maternity top. She would totally be fine for a few hours of furniture shopping.
Lara and Ivan spent the better part of two hours walking past rows and rows of furniture. Lara kept one hand pressed to the small of her back as she waddled next to her husband. The back pain was getting really bad, hitting her in waves, each one worse than the last. The baby felt heavy in her pelvis, the head practically resting on her cervix. All that pressure was messing with her body - she felt like she really needed to take a dump.
”Bathroom break”, she murmured to Ivan, before waddling off towards the closest sign.
As she sat down on the toilet, she felt a lot of fluids leave her body, but not really anything else. The pressure had eased up, though, so she figured maybe she’d just really needed to pee. She washed her hands, staring at her sweaty disheveled appearance in the mirror. After a moment of leaning against the sink, she took a deep breath and headed for the door.
Ivan was watching her intently as she left the bathroom. ”Are you okay?” he asked, a worried wrinkle between his eyebrows.
”I’m fine. Just a backache.”
He didn’t seem to believe her and kept throwing her worried glances as they walked on.
That feeling of pressure that had dissipated in the bathroom, was returning with a vengeance. She pressed a hand against the underside of her belly, trying to lift the weight of her baby from her poor hips. She couldn’t really feel that tell-tale hardness of the baby’s head through her skin, even at the bottom of her belly, making her wonder if it was actually resting completely in the bowl of her pelvis. As she was contemplating this, another wave of back pain swept through her, making her belly cramp uncomfortably.
This latest cramp made the pressure drastically intensify and she was hit with a nagging suspicion that maybe this was labor. She tried to ignore it as the baby’s head slowly pushed through her dilated cervix, the pain and pressure shifting downwards with it. She had to be imagining this. Her due date wasn’t for another week.
Unconsciously she widened her stance as her contracting muscles squeezed the baby downwards. She struggled to keep her composure as the pressure grew, and with it came this terrible urge. The need to push was growing every second she continued to try to deny her labor. This couldn’t be happening. Not here. Not now. Yet her body desperately wanted to push this baby out. Right this second.
”Lara? What’s wrong?”
Her husband’s voice sounded so far away as she focused on the sensations of her body, the tensing of muscles, the pressure, the stretching. The baby was inching downwards through her birth canal with every clenching of muscles. She spread her legs without really meaning to, her body locking up in her first real push. The baby pressed downwards faster with her help, the head stretching her birth canal wide.
The hand pressed to the bottom of her belly sneaked downwards, encountering her bulging crotch. She wasn’t quite crowning yet, but the baby’s head pressing down was changing the shape of her vagina, making it bulge outwards. With another contraction, another push, a burning feeling was joining the pain and pressure already between her legs. She moaned softly as her lips started to take the shape of a teardrop, the top of her baby’s head pressing out into her panties.
She moved her other hand down between her legs, exploring the growing bulge in her leggings. She could distantly hear voices around her, yelling, a far away mixture of sounds and movements. They weren’t important. Someone’s hand closed around her arm, pulling. She could vaguely distinguish her husband’s voice from the sea of background noise. She snarled at him, making him back away. She didn’t want anyone close right now. It was just her, and her body, and her baby.
She spread her legs more, squatting down a bit as she pushed again. Her legs quivered as she felt her lips slowly stretching around the top of the baby’s head. By the feeling of how much her crotch was bulging, she knew she still had ways to go. It was a very big baby.
She groaned as the burning feeling turned into a violent throbbing, the baby’s skull slowly inching downwards as her lips strained. Her clothes were pulled tight over the bulge, barely clinging to her hips. She rubbed softly over the stretched fabric, accidentally brushing against her clit. A surge of pleasure shot through her, making her throw her head back and moan. She started rubbing the little nub slowly, some of the pain transforming into pleasure. Intense, painful pleasure - but pleasure all the same.
The next contraction caught her off guard, making her sway slightly from the force of cramping muscles. She took a deep breath and bore down, feeling her nether lips thin and stretch as the baby slowly started to properly crown. With an agonizing slowness the head inched forwards, filling her hands and straining her clothes to the limit. It stopped at a full crown, her body thrumming with pain and pleasure and a desperate need to get this baby out.
She continued to ignore her surroundings as she circled her hips, trying not to push as she gave her body time to stretch. Her hand went back to her clitoris, rubbing through the soft fabric of her leggings. The poor leggings were stretched as far as they wood go. She pushed hard with the next contraction. No matter how much she tensed and strained, the head stayed at a full crown, her burning lips and straining clothes keeping it in place.
She sunk lower into her squat, shoving her hips forwards with the next push. The head stayed lodged were it was, but her vagina was throbbing with pain and pleasure around it. She whined and rocked her hips from side to side in an attempt to get it unstuck. The bulge in her leggings was massive, witnessing about the size of her baby. She must truly be a sight to behold.
Strange hands were touching her, trying to pull down her leggings. She didn’t like it, but she allowed it, realizing that her bottoms needed to come off for her to be able to deliver. With the way her legs were spread they didn’t have much luck getting them off, but they did manage to loosen the garment slightly.
As the next contraction hit, she battered them away again and bore down with a guttural yell. The head shifted slightly against her bruised lips, but still couldn’t seem to move passed them. She pressed down against her clitoris, the violent jolt of pleasure causing her to tense in another push. Her thighs shook as she worked against her own body, trying to push a too big baby through a too small opening. She pinched her nub again, pushing with the clenching pressure that followed. Despite the pain, she was suddenly very close to orgasming.
She circled her hips again, the weight of the baby resting against different parts of her vagina as she moved. Her fingers worked furiously at her clitoris, the pulses of pleasure almost making her knees give out as she pushed with each one.
And then, finally, as she shoved her hips forwards and pushed with all her might, the head shot forwards and the found herself orgasming violently as it popped out.
The rest of the world rushed back into focus, sounds and voices and her husbands arms. She collapsed into them, no longer able to keep upright. The baby’s head dangled uncomfortably between her legs, but she no longer wanted to keep control of the birth. She wanted someone to take her pants off and get the baby out.
”Get it out!” she sobbed into her husbands neck, shifting uncomfortably as she felt the baby start to turn.
Ivan murmured encouragements in her ear as she felt something cold touch her leg. A backwards glance revealed a paramedic behind her, in the process of cutting her leggings off. She leaned against her husband as she felt them check for a chord around the baby’s neck and telling her to push. She tried, moaning as the shoulders wouldn’t budge.
”You’re almost done”, her husband murmured in her ear. ”Baby, you’re so close.”
She nodded into his neck, gathered all remaining energy, and pushed as hard as she could. One shoulder eased out, then another. A strange sliding sensation and a rush of emptiness, as the paramedic pulled the baby from her body. A rush of fluids followed it, drenching her utterly ruined pants. Her body shook, Ivan the only thing still keeping her upright. Around her people gawked and pointed their cellphone cameras her way as the baby gave a loud wail.
”It’s a girl! Lara, we have a daughter!”
Her husband was crying and laughing at the same time, while Lara stared numbly at the crowd gathered around them.
”Lara, look! She’s beautiful!”
She turned her eyes to the wrinkly, slimy, purple little human that had just come out of her. The rest of the world faded away again, as she reached out for that hideous little creature - the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Her daughter.
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