I noticed the first few contractions at around 3am. They werenât painful, just annoying so I decided to sleep through them. I woke up at 7am with my husband, we ate breakfast, he left for work, and I left to run errands. I had a handful of contractions in the car but nothing to intense. I grocey shopped, bought a blanket for the birth, a medical kit, and lingerie. I had about 25 contractions upon my arrival home. I decided to time them and they werenât regular and they lasted only seconds. So I put everything up, ate lunch, and bathed. The water felt nice and I masturbated. I fingered myself hard, giving myself orgasm after orgasm. I moaned in pleasure loudly with each peek. I got out right as a contraction came. I rubbed my belly and timed them again. They were now regular at 15 minutes apart but they lasted only a few seconds. It was 3pm and my husband would be home in two hours. I put my bikini on and drove to the nearby beach to swim. Once there I found my own private area on the nude side of the beach, stripped nude, and swam. I stopped as the first painful one hit. I was still 15 minutes apart but it lasted a whole minute. I examined myself to see that I was a centimeter dilated. I rubbed my gravid belly and decided to go home. I got home right as my husband did. I told him it was time, which excited him, and packed up a left. We drove to my familyâs cabin that was ten miles out of town. It was completely secluded and surrounded by trees. Once there we immediately set things up as labor was progressing. When we got the chance we timed the contractions which were 7 minutes apart and lasting a minute. I got in the hot tub outside and labored there for several minutes. My husband crawled in with me (we were both nude) and messaged my back. I guided his hands to my vagina and demanded he finger me. That eased the pain so much and I orgasmed with each contraction.
âI need more..â I whispered
âI understand.â He replied
We got out and walked inside. It was a one room cabin and the bed was in the center. He lied down, his hard cock sticking straight into the air, and I began riding him. Pounding down hard with the contractions.
âIâm..Iâm in bliss! I..Iâm cumming!â
I came and my waters broke at the same time. Making me scream. I got off of him and he checked me. I was 8 centimeters along but sex was now impossible. The contractions were only two minutes apart and it was now 3am. I had been in labor for 24 hours now. I had my husband create a birthing area by the fireplace as I walked around. I dropped to my knees as a hardness slammed into the birthing canal.
âI have to push!â I screamed as he finished.
He pulled me onto the birthing area where I got on all fours and began pushing. I grunted, screamed, snarled, gasped, groaned, and moaned. My husband messaged my expanding lips. After ten minutes of pushing I crowned. I was crying and feeling weak. I leaned my back against my husbands chest, my legs tucked under me, as the head finally popped out. I groaned as another contraction hit and the urge to push took over. I pushed down, sweat covering me, as one shoulder came out, and then another. Half of the baby was out and so I reached down, tucked my thumbs under its shoulders, and while pushing pulled him out. He cried and so did we.
Sabrina was twenty six years old, five feet three inches tall, and carrying triplets. Her belly was a hard, stretched drum that had consumed her entire frame. She could no longer tie her shoes, could not roll over in bed without a plan, could not remember what it felt like to go an hour without heartburn or a small foot wedged under her ribs. She and her husband John had tried for four years. Fertility treatments had given them three at once. When the ultrasound tech pointed to the three flickering heartbeats, Sabrina had laughed and cried and thrown up all in the same minute.
But the joy sat next to a cold, growing dread. Triplets. Three babies. One cervix. She had read the statistics. She had watched the YouTube videos. She knew that triplet births were almost never straightforward.
By thirty five weeks, the triplets had settled into their positions. Baby A was head down, low and ready, a solid eight pounds already. Baby B was also head down, slightly higher, a more modest seven pounds. Baby C was the problem. Baby C had turned posterior, his spine pressed against Sabrina's spine, his hard little skull facing the wrong way. The obstetrician, a no nonsense woman named Dr. Patel, recommended a hospital birth with a full team. Sabrina agreed without hesitation. She wanted the epidural. She wanted the operating room on standby. She wanted all the interventions.
Her midwife, a warm but direct woman named Carol, would assist Dr. Patel. The plan was vaginal delivery if possible, C section if not. Sabrina hoped for vaginal. She had dreamed of pushing, of feeling her babies pass through her body. But she was also terrified. The triplets were big. Baby A alone was projected to be over nine pounds by birth. The combined weight was nearly twenty five pounds of baby inside a body that had started at one hundred thirty.
The labor began at 3 AM on a Thursday. Sabrina woke to a contraction that wrapped around her entire abdomen like a vise. She sat up in bed, breathing hard, and woke John. By 5 AM, the contractions were five minutes apart. By 7 AM, they were three minutes apart and Sabrina could no longer talk through them. John drove to the hospital with the hazard lights on, running red lights when the streets were empty.
Dr. Patel met them in the labor and delivery triage. A cervical check showed six centimeters. "You are in active labor," she said. "We are going to move you to a delivery room. You can labor in any position you like. Walking, squatting, the ball, hands and knees. Whatever feels right. But I want you to stay upright as much as possible. Gravity is your friend with triplets."
Sabrina nodded. She had done her research. She knew the positions.
The delivery room was large, almost the size of a small apartment, with a hospital bed that folded and twisted, a birth ball in the corner, a squat bar attached to the bed, and a team of nurses already setting up two warming stations for the babies. A third warming station was on standby. Dr. Patel and Carol the midwife stood by a monitor displaying the triplets' heartbeats. Three distinct lines, three different rhythms, all strong.
Sabrina labored for the next six hours without stopping. She started on the birth ball, sitting upright with her legs wide, rocking her hips in circles through each contraction. John knelt in front of her, holding her hands, counting her breaths. When the contractions became too intense for sitting, she dropped to her hands and knees on a padded mat on the floor. She pressed her forehead to the cool linoleum and let her enormous belly hang toward the ground. Carol rubbed her lower back, where Baby C's posterior spine was grinding against her sacrum with every wave.
By noon, Sabrina was nine centimeters. She moved to a deep squat against the wall, using John's shoulders for balance. Her thighs screamed. Her back was on fire. Baby C's posterior position meant that every contraction sent a lightning bolt of pain straight through her tailbone. She vomited twice. She cried. She asked for the epidural she had said she wanted.
But it was too late. She was nine and a half centimeters. There was no time.
"Baby A is crowning," Carol said calmly. "I can see the top of the head. Sabrina, you need to move to the bed or stay squatting. But you are about to push."
Sabrina wanted to squat. She wanted to stay upright, to use gravity, to keep her pelvis as open as possible. She dropped into a low squat next to the bed, gripping the edge of the mattress. John squatted behind her, his arms around her chest, holding her up. Dr. Patel knelt in front of her in blue scrubs and a sterile gown.
"The head is right there," Dr. Patel said. "On the next contraction, push."
The contraction came. Sabrina pushed. She pushed with a sound she had never made before, a deep roaring grunt that came from the bottom of her lungs. Baby A's head stretched her perineum. It burned. It burned like nothing she had ever felt. The head advanced a little, then slipped back when she stopped pushing.
"Again," Dr. Patel said. "Do not stop. Keep pushing through the contraction."
Sabrina pushed again. The head crowned. The ring of fire was real, was unbearable, was exactly what every mother had warned her about. She felt her skin stretch to its limit. She felt the widest part of the skull slide past her pubic bone. The head came out. One ear, then the other. The chin. Baby A's face was squashed and furious, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a silent cry.
But the shoulders did not follow.
Dr. Patel's face changed. "Shoulder dystocia. Sabrina, I need you to change positions. Get on your hands and knees. Now."
John helped her roll forward. Sabrina knelt on all fours on the hospital floor, her head down, her hips high. Baby A's head was out, dangling between her legs, his face turning from pink to a dusky purple. Carol reached up and pressed above Sabrina's pubic bone, trying to dislodge the anterior shoulder. Dr. Patel reached inside and tried to rotate the baby. The team tilted the bed. A nurse pushed on Sabrina's abdomen from above.
"Push!" Dr. Patel commanded.
Sabrina pushed with everything she had left. The anterior shoulder slipped free. The rest of the baby slid out in a gush of fluid and blood. Baby A was enormous. The nurses whisked him to the warming station. He cried immediately, a furious wail. Twelve pounds one ounce. John looked at the scale and went pale.
"Baby A is a boy," Carol said, but she did not hand him to Sabrina. There was no time. Baby B was already descending.
Sabrina stayed on her hands and knees. Baby B was head down, but he was larger than they had thought, nearly nine pounds. He came faster than his brother. The head crowned after only three pushes. This time, the shoulders came without dystocia. Baby B slid out, purple and wailing, and the nurses took him to the second warming station. Eight pounds fourteen ounces. A girl.
Sabrina should have felt relief. Two babies were out. But Baby C was still inside, and Baby C was posterior. The contractions had not stopped. They were coming every minute now, each one sending a spike of agony through her lower back.
She rolled onto her side. The posterior position meant that Baby C's hard occiput was pressing against her sacrum, the wrong way around. Each push felt like someone was driving a wedge into her tailbone. She screamed. She begged for something, anything, for the pain to stop.
Dr. Patel checked the position. "Baby C is still posterior. He has not rotated. Sabrina, I need you to get on the birth ball. Sit upright. Let gravity open your pelvis. We need to try to turn him."
John helped her onto the large rubber ball. Sabrina sat, legs wide, feet planted on the floor. She rocked her hips in circles. She lifted and lowered herself. The contraction came and she pushed, but the posterior head would not descend. It was stuck, the widest part of the skull trying to fit through the narrowest part of her pelvis.
"Vacuum," Dr. Patel said. "We are using the vacuum."
Carol brought the sterile cup. Dr. Patel attached it to Baby C's skull. The suction pulled. Sabrina felt a deep, dragging pressure inside her pelvis. She pushed. The posterior head descended one agonizing millimeter at a time. The vacuum popped off. Dr. Patel reattached it. Sabrina pushed again. The head came down another millimeter.
"It's crowning," Carol said. "But it is coming out the wrong way. The face is up. This is going to tear you, Sabrina. I am sorry. There is no way around it."
Sabrina did not care about tearing anymore. She just wanted the baby out. She pushed with a scream that echoed off the tile walls. The posterior head stretched her perineum unevenly, the brow pressing where the chin should have been. She felt her skin split. A hot, sharp tear. Then another. Blood ran down her thighs and pooled on the floor.
The head came out. The face was looking at the ceiling. Baby C was completely posterior. Dr. Patel reached in and checked for the cord. It was wrapped around the neck once, loose, easily slipped over. "Push again. The shoulders."
Sabrina pushed. The shoulders came, but one arm was folded. Dr. Patel reached in and freed it. The rest of the baby slid out, small and limp, only six pounds. Baby C did not cry. The respiratory team swooped in. They rubbed the tiny back. They suctioned the mouth. After a long terrible moment, Baby C coughed and wailed. A second girl.
Dr. Patel did not hand Baby C to Sabrina. Instead, she looked between Sabrina's legs and spoke quietly to Carol. "We have a third degree tear. Possibly fourth. I need to stitch immediately. And I need to check for uterine atony. She has lost a lot of blood."
Sabrina was still on the birth ball. She was shaking uncontrollably. John held her upright. The nurses placed all three babies on a warmer and checked their vitals. Baby A was stable. Baby B was stable. Baby C was stable but small, requiring a little oxygen.
They moved Sabrina to the hospital bed. They put her legs in stirrups. Dr. Patel began to stitch. The needle went in and out of Sabrina's torn perineum. She did not flinch. She was beyond flinching. Her eyes were fixed on the three warming stations across the room, where three small bodies lay under radiant heat, three pairs of lungs breathing, three hearts beating.
"Can I see them?" she whispered.
John brought them to her one by one. Baby A, the twelve pound giant, already rooting for food. Baby B, the calm middle child, staring at the ceiling with dark eyes. Baby C, the tiny posterior baby, wrapped in a pink blanket, her face still a little bruised from the delivery.
Sabrina held all three as well as she could, stacked across her chest like logs. She was still being stitched. She could feel every pull of the suture. But she did not look away from her babies.
"That was the hardest thing I have ever done," she said to John.
John kissed her forehead. His hands were still shaking. "You were incredible," he said. "I have never seen anyone fight like that."
Sabrina looked down at Baby C, the posterior baby, the one who had torn her open. "You," she said quietly, "were a nightmare."
Baby C yawned.
Dr. Patel tied the last stitch. "Forty seven sutures," she said. "Third degree tear. It will heal. But Sabrina, no more babies. Your uterus cannot handle another pregnancy."
Sabrina laughed. It was a broken, exhausted laugh. "I have three," she said. "I am done."
She lay back against the pillows, her triplets on her chest, her husband's hand in hers, her body stitched and bleeding and utterly destroyed. And for the first time in nine months, she smiled.
The late summer sun had turned the royal pool into a sheet of hammered gold, its warmth seeping into the marble tiles that surrounded it. Queen Isabella, her immense belly a taut, gleaming dome stretched to its absolute limit, floated on the surface like a magnificent, beached vessel. She was thirty-seven weeks pregnant with triplets, ten days overdue, and the only place she found any semblance of relief was in the buoyant embrace of the water.
King Axel swam a slow, powerful lap, his eyes constantly drawn to his wife. She was a vision of fecundity, her skin glowing, her dark hair fanned out in the chlorinated water. To him, she was a goddess, though a deeply uncomfortable one. He watched as she shifted, a frown momentarily creasing her brow before smoothing away.
"Another one?" he asked, treading water beside her.
Isabella let out a dismissive huff, a sound she had perfected over the last few weeks. "Just Braxton-Hicks. The royal physician said they would be persistent." She placed a hand on the top of her belly, feeling the hard knot of muscle slowly relax. She refused to acknowledge the low, unfamiliar ache that had settled in her sacrum an hour ago, an ache that was beginning to pulse with a faint, rhythmic regularity.
For the next hour, she denied it with the same fierce denial she had used to endure courtly intrigues. Each wave of pressure, she breathed through with a practiced nonchalance, adjusting her position, dipping her shoulders deeper under the water. Axel, ever respectful of his wife's strength, watched the subtle tightening of her jaw, the way her nostrils flared, but said nothing. If she said it was false labor, he would believe her. He knew better than to question his queen.
He swam over to her, sensing a shift. He began to massage her shoulders, his thumbs digging into the rock-hard muscles of her trapezius. As he did, she suddenly jerked, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. A torrent of warm fluid erupted from her, clouding the pristine water around them. Her water had broken.
Isabella's eyes flew wide, a flicker of panic quickly extinguished by sheer obstinacy. "It is just the pressure," she stammered, her voice higher than usual. "From the babies. It is nothing."
Axel's hands stilled on her shoulders. He looked at the milky cloud dissipating in the water, then back at her face. He saw the truth there, the primal fear and the iron will fighting for dominance. But he held his tongue, giving her the sovereignty she demanded.
Then, the nature of the pressure changed. It was no longer a wave that could be dismissed. It was a wall. An unyielding, crushing wall that seemed to originate from the very core of her being. Her body, tired of her denial, took over. A low, involuntary grunt rumbled in her chest as she felt her pelvic floor seize with an explosive, downward force. She was pushing.
"Isabella," Axel said, his voice low and urgent.
"It is fine," she gritted out, her knuckles white where she gripped the pool's edge. "I am fine."
She was squatting now, her body's instinct taking over, her feet finding purchase on the submerged steps. Another contraction seized her, and with it came an unstoppable, primal urge. She bore down, a guttural sound tearing from her throat that she tried desperately to morph into a moan of pleasure. Axel, his heart hammering against his ribs, swam in front of her. He saw the cords in her neck standing out, the sweat beading on her upper lip, the way her body trembled with a force no human will could suppress.
He moved behind her, his powerful hands finding the knotted muscles of her lower back, kneading them with a fierce, desperate pressure. He watched over her shoulder as the straining fabric of her black bikini bottom began to distort. A bulge, impossibly large, was forcing its way between her legs, stretching the delicate Lycra to its breaking point. She was crowning, right there in the pool, and she was still trying to hide it.
Isabella let out a strangled cry as the burning sensation of crowning ripped through her, a sensation she could no longer mask with a coquettish sigh. It was a raw, animalistic roar that echoed off the marble walls.
Axel's head snapped down. He saw it, the taut, glistening membrane of the amniotic sac still partially intact, but within it, the unmistakable dark swirl of hair, the crown of his child, pressing against the sodden black fabric. Panic, hot and sharp, lanced through him.
"Gods, Bella, you are crowning," he yelled, his composure finally shattering.
He reached around her, his fingers fumbling with the small tie at her hip. But the months of carrying triplets had widened her hips into a formidable, bony shelf. The wet knot had swollen, impossible to untie. He tried to pull the fabric down, but her thighs, spread wide in a powerful squat, held it captive.
"It will not. I cannot," he growled, his voice thick with frustration and fear.
Isabella let out another earth-shattering groan, her body pushing with a will of its own. The fabric was now a thin, black line digging into the soft flesh of her perineum, the baby's head straining against it like a battering ram against a gate.
Axel's head swiveled. "You," he barked at a frozen servant who had been discreetly refilling a pitcher of water by the pool's edge, his eyes wide as saucers. "Scissors. Now. Bring me scissors."
The servant bolted, his sandals slapping against the marble. In the agonizing seconds it took him to return, Isabella bore down again, a scream of pure agony and effort ripping from her lungs. Axel caught her as her legs threatened to buckle, his arm like a steel band across her chest, holding her in the squat. He could feel her entire body convulsing with the force of the birth.
The servant skidded back, holding out a pair of silver sewing scissors. Axel snatched them, and with a single, decisive slash, cut the side of the bikini bottom. The ruined fabric fell away just as Isabella gave one final, monumental push.
With a rush of blood-tinged fluid, the first baby emerged into the warm water. Axel, his arm still locked around his wife's chest, used his other hand to scoop the child up, bringing it to the surface. A boy, red-faced and furious, let out a wail that was the sweetest sound either of them had ever heard.
Isabella sagged against Axel, her legs trembling violently. He held them both, his wife and his son, the water around them swirling with the evidence of the brutal, beautiful ordeal. A surge of raw, primal power shot through Axel as he looked at his wife, her chest heaving, her face a mask of exhaustion and triumph. The sight of her, so fierce, so utterly primal, ignited something deep within him, a possessive, reverent arousal. He buried it instantly, pressing soft, desperate kisses into her damp, tangled hair, whispering, "You did it. My love, my queen, you did it."
But there was no rest. A fresh wave of pressure, deeper and more insistent than the last, seized Isabella. "The next one," she gasped, her body already beginning to bear down again. "There is no time."
They stayed in the water, Axel supporting her as she shifted from her squat to a half-standing, half-leaning position against the pool's edge. The second birth was a swift, furious torrent. Isabella gripped the marble coping, her knuckles bone-white, pushing with a roar that was more beast than woman. Within minutes, a second boy slid into Axel's waiting hands, his cries a perfect echo of his brother's.
They had a moment, one single moment, to breathe. The servants had discreetly wrapped the first two boys in warm, dry linens and placed them on cushioned loungers under the watchful eye of the royal midwife, who had arrived in the flurry of chaos. Axel helped Isabella out of the pool, her legs barely holding her, her body already shuddering with the next contraction.
He guided her to a cushioned chaise, where she dropped to her hands and knees, her body taking over once more. The final baby was positioned awkwardly, and the midwife coached her through it, her voice calm and steady. Isabella pushed with everything she had left, her face buried in Axel's thigh as he knelt before her, his hand a steady pressure on her back.
This one was slower, harder. The burning was immense, a tearing fire that made her scream until her voice was hoarse. With a final, guttural shriek that seemed to drain the very life from her, the third baby, a daughter smaller than her brothers but with a set of lungs to match, slipped into the midwife's waiting hands.
Silence descended, broken only by the cries of the newborn and the ragged, heaving breaths of her parents. Axel, streaked with blood and water, gathered Isabella into his arms, pulling her onto his lap. She was shaking uncontrollably, her skin slick with sweat and pool water. He held her as the midwife placed their daughter on Isabella's bare chest.
The three of them, the king, the queen, and their newborn daughter, lay there in a heap of exhausted limbs, the sounds of the two boys fussing in the background. The brutal, raw reality of the birth began to fade, replaced by a profound, bone-deep exhaustion and a love so fierce it was almost violent.
Axel looked down at his wife, her face streaked with tears and sweat, a look of utter, primal satisfaction in her eyes. He pressed a long, tender kiss to her forehead, then to her lips. He did not speak of the arousal that had pulsed through him, the awe that had nearly broken him. He simply held her, the weight of their three children in her arms, and knew he had never loved her more fiercely than in this moment, amidst the blood, the water, and the raw, undeniable truth of what she had just done.
Here is the revised story with the requested change: Twin A requires vacuum and has shoulder dystocia; Twin B is born breech without shoulder dystocia.
The decision had been made days before, a cold, clinical verdict delivered in the bright fluorescence of the obstetrician's office. Twin B, the larger of the two, was stubbornly, immovably breech. The plan, etched onto a whiteboard in Room 7 of L&D, was a "trial of labor." The unspoken words hung in the air: high-risk, potential for emergency cesarean, significant intervention.
Meghan, at 25, felt a strange calm settle over her as the first contraction tightened its fist around her lower back. It was 2:17 AM. Beside her, Liam, her husband, was a coiled spring of nervous energy, his jaw set with a determination that matched her own. He'd read every study, knew every statistic, and had already decided his role: not just a hand to hold, but a sentinel, ready to question any step that deviated from their carefully discussed plan.
By 7:00 AM, the calm was a distant memory. Meghan was stripped to a hospital gown, the bed transformed into a torture device. The epidural, which she'd agreed to in anticipation of the breech extraction, had turned her lower body into a heavy, foreign object, but it did little to dampen the overwhelming pressure. She was on her side, the left side, her top leg hooked over a squatting bar that Liam held steady. It was the position the midwife had suggested to encourage Twin A, who was head-down, to descend. Sweat plastered her auburn hair to her forehead.
"You're complete, Meghan," Dr. Evans, the senior obstetrician, announced after a cervical check. Her voice was calm, but her eyes were sharp, focused. "It's time to push for Twin A."
Liam pressed his forehead to Meghan's. "You've got this. With me. In and out."
The pushing was a brutal, hour-long war. Meghan roared, a primal sound ripped from her core, as she bore down against the pressure. The room shrank to the size of the contraction. With each push, Liam counted, his voice a steady anchor. The fetal monitor beeped a frantic, urgent rhythm. Dr. Evans, now gloved and gowned, sat on a stool between Meghan's legs, her face a mask of concentration.
But the head did not descend. Push after push, Meghan gave everything she had, her body trembling with exhaustion, her cries growing hoarse. The monitor showed Twin A's heart rate decelerating with each contraction, taking longer and longer to recover.
"The heart rate is dropping significantly with each push and not coming back up quickly," Dr. Evans said, her voice losing its calm and taking on an urgent edge. "The head is stuck. She's not descending past the mid-pelvis. I need to intervene."
Liam's head snapped up, his protective instincts flaring. "What are you proposing?"
"Vacuum extraction," Dr. Evans replied, already gesturing to a nurse who was unwrapping a sterile kit. "And I'm going to do an episiotomy to create more room. The baby is in distress, and we need to get her out now."
Liam looked at Meghan, whose face was contorted in agony, her eyes wild with exhaustion and fear. He gave a sharp nod. "Okay. Do it. But talk us through everything."
Meghan didn't feel the episiotomy cutâjust a sudden, sharp release of pressure as Dr. Evans made a diagonal incision through the perineum. Then came the cold, hard circle of the vacuum cup being positioned against the baby's head.
"I'm placing the cup," Dr. Evans announced, her voice steady. "Meghan, on the next contraction, I need you to push with everything you have. I will pull. We need to work together."
The contraction built. Meghan bore down with a guttural scream, her face purple with effort. Dr. Evans applied firm, steady traction with the vacuum. For one terrifying moment, nothing moved. The vacuum cup creaked under the pressure.
"The shoulder is caught," Dr. Evans said, her voice tight. "Shoulder dystocia. Meghan, stop pushing. Liam, I need you to push her leg upâhigherâtoward her chest. Now."
Liam grabbed Meghan's top leg and forced it upward, opening her hip as wide as it would go. A nurse climbed onto the bed and pressed a suprapubic fist into Meghan's lower belly, just above her pubic bone, vibrating it to dislodge the stuck anterior shoulder. Meghan screamedânot the controlled roar of pushing, but a high, thin shriek of pure, overwhelming pressure.
"Now push, Meghan! NOW!" Dr. Evans commanded.
Meghan pushed with a force that blackened the edges of her vision. She felt a searing, tearing burn as the episiotomy stretched beyond its incision. Dr. Evans pulled with steady, unyielding traction on the vacuum. With a violent, gushing release, the head finally delivered, followed immediately by a rush of shoulders and torso.
Kayla slithered into the world, her cry immediate but weak, her color dusky. She was tiny, just 5 pounds, 3 ounces. The NICU team descended swiftly, rubbing her vigorously, stimulating her to cry. For a terrifying thirty seconds, the room held its breath. Then a full-throated wail cut through the tension, and the team relaxed, placing her on Meghan's chest for a brief, precious moment before whisking her to the warmer for further assessment.
Meghan collapsed against the pillows, sobbing, her body trembling violently. Liam kissed her forehead, his own face streaked with tears. "She's here. She's here. You did it."
But the reprieve was brutally short-lived.
"Okay, Meghan," Dr. Evans said, her voice clipped and focused once more. "The hard part is here. Twin B is still high. His heart rate is good, but we need to move before his sister's delivery changes my ability to maneuver inside you. I need to try to turn him."
The room's atmosphere changed. The postpartum euphoria evaporated, replaced by the sterile hum of controlled emergency. More nurses materialized. An ultrasound machine was wheeled over, its cold gel spreading over Meghan's still-massive belly. The epidural line was topped up with a concentrated dose.
"We're going to do an internal version," Dr. Evans explained, her gloved hands now slick with lubricant. "I have to reach in and try to grasp his feet to turn him to a head-down position. Meghan, this is going to feel like immense pressure."
Liam held Meghan's shoulders as she lay on her side, still recovering from the first birth. He watched, his face pale, as Dr. Evans's entire hand and forearm disappeared inside his wife. Meghan screamedânot the controlled roar of pushing, but a high, thin shriek of violated pressure. Her body tried to clamp down, to expel the intruder.
"I feel a foot⌠I've got one," Dr. Evans grunted, her arm straining. "Trying to locate the other⌠There's resistance. The cord is right here. I'm going to try to rotate."
For three agonizing minutes, Dr. Evans manipulated the baby internally. Meghan's face was drained of all color, tears streaming silently down her temples onto the pillow. Liam glared at the fetal monitor, watching the heart rate dip and recover, dip and recover.
"I can't," Dr. Evans finally said, withdrawing her arm with a slow, careful motion. Her glove was streaked with blood. "He's not turning. The cord position is precarious, and he's larger than we thought. He's going to have to be born breech. Now."
The decision was made. The bed was rapidly reconfigured. Meghan was rolled onto her knees, her upper body collapsed onto a mountain of pillows Liam had stacked for her. The kneeling position, open and vulnerable, was the standard for a breech delivery. She felt a new, bone-splitting pressure as the baby's body descended.
"Okay, Meghan, I need you to push," Dr. Evans commanded, now positioned behind her. "Do not push between contractions. Let the contractions bring him down. I will guide his body."
The pushing was different this time. It was not the rounded pressure of a head. It was a sharp, splintering sensation. A nurse held a mirror so Liam could see, his face a mixture of horror and awe. A small, wrinkled foot emerged, then the other. They dangled, purple and motionless for a second, then kicked.
"His feet are out," Liam whispered, his voice cracking.
"Push," Dr. Evans ordered.
Meghan pushed with a guttural scream. The baby's legs and torso slid out, his little arms crossed over his chest. He was large, his back arched. Dr. Evans worked quickly, her fingers finding the baby's hips, rotating his body to help the shoulders navigate the pelvic brim.
"Shoulders are clearing," Dr. Evans said, her voice focused but steady. "Good. The head is next. Meghan, I need one more push. A gentle one. Let me guide him out."
Meghan pushed, exhausted beyond measure, and Dr. Evans expertly maneuvered the baby's head, flexing it downward to navigate the pelvic outlet. With a final, slick release, the head delivered. The baby slid free in a rush of amniotic fluid and blood.
He was enormous compared to his sisterâ7 pounds, 8 ounces. He was dusky but immediately began to cry, a strong, lusty wail that filled the room. The NICU team gave a cursory assessment but quickly deemed him stable, placing him directly onto Meghan's chest without whisking him away.
"He's perfect," the nurse said, smiling. "No need for us."
Liam broke. He buried his face in Meghan's sweat-soaked hair, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs of relief. Meghan looked down at the scrunched, angry face of her son, her body a battlefield, and felt a love so fierce it was physically painful.
But it wasn't over.
"Meghan, you have a significant third-degree tear," Dr. Evans said, her voice calm once more, though her scrubs were splattered with blood. "The episiotomy from your first delivery extended, and the breech birth caused additional internal tearing. I need you to stay very still. We're going to have to go to the OR to repair this properly. I'll give you more spinal anesthetic so you won't feel anything."
Liam's face hardened again. "Third-degree? That's into the muscle. What's the repair plan? Are you calling in a second surgeon?"
Dr. Evans nodded, a flicker of respect in her tired eyes. "Yes. We'll do a layered closure in the OR with a colorectal surgeon on standby. Given the extent of the tearing from the vacuum delivery and the breech birth, I want the best possible outcome. We're going to take good care of her."
The transfer to the operating room was a blur. Meghan held her son against her chest, his weight a grounding anchor as she was wheeled down the hall. Liam walked beside her, holding her hand, whispering promises of ice chips and quiet nights to come. In the OR, the babies were taken to a warmer under Liam's watchful eye while Meghan was given a spinal block.
For the next two hours, she lay on the table, numb from the waist down, listening to the muted conversation of the surgeons as they meticulously reconstructed her. She heard the snip of sutures, the clink of instruments. Liam sat by her head, feeding her ice chips, showing her pictures on his phone of their daughter in the nursery. He never let go of her hand.
When they wheeled her into the postpartum room, she was exhausted, hollowed out, and sewn back together. The twins were brought in, nestled together in a bassinet. Kayla, the tiny head-down firstborn who had required vacuum extraction and fought through shoulder dystocia, and Leo, the large, stubborn breech baby who had refused to turn and made his entrance feet-first.
Liam helped her adjust her gown, then placed both babies on her chest. They lay there, skin to skin, a pile of limbs and soft, downy heads. He climbed onto the bed beside them, his body a protective barrier against the door. He kissed her forehead, her cheek, her lips.
"You were a goddamn warrior," he whispered. "Twice over."
Meghan looked at her family, at the chaos and the blood and the love that had filled the room. She couldn't imagine ever having sex again. She couldn't imagine sitting comfortably for months. But as she watched Liam count the tiny toes of their son, his earlier ferocity replaced by a tender reverence, she knew they had navigated the storm together. She drifted off to sleep, the steady beep of the monitors and the soft breaths of her family forming a lullaby of survival.
The morning had started with the peculiar taste of hazelnut and something elseâsomething metallic and bitter that Danielle had swallowed down with a grimace, too focused on the stack of ungraded phonics worksheets to give it more than a passing thought. Shan, the ever-helpful classroom volunteer with the gentle eyes and the unsettling habit of knowing where the spare whiteboard markers were, had handed her the travel mug with a smile. âYou looked like you needed it, Miss D.â Sheâd thanked him absently, the rich aroma a small mercy against the mounting pressure sheâd been feeling for weeksâa pressure sheâd diligently ignored, attributing it to the stress of the upcoming parent-teacher conferences and the mysterious, stubborn weight sheâd gained around her middle.
By mid-morning, a low, constant ache had settled in her lower back. Danielle, 28, a woman whose entire life was structure and lesson plans, refused to acknowledge it. She stood before her class of second-graders, her green sweater feeling impossibly tight, the denim overalls sheâd chosen for their forgiving waistband now digging into her hips with a cruel, unyielding grip. She shifted her weight, pressing a hand into the small of her back as she explained the water cycle. A wave of heat rolled through her, tightening across her abdomen like a vise. She paused, her chalk freezing on the blackboard, her breath catching in her throat. It was just a cramp. A bad one. Probably something she ate. Sheâd told the nurse that much yesterday when sheâd been sent home. âProbably just a stomach bug,â sheâd said, refusing the offer to leave early.
The pressure was a secret, a shameful thing she was determined to keep. She couldnât be pregnant. It was impossible. Sheâd been careful, and there was no one⌠well, no one that sheâd chosen. The thought was a dark, locked room in her mind she refused to open.
During morning recess, as the children shrieked on the playground, Danielle leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the classroom window, her breath fogging the pane. The ache had become a rhythm. A slow, deep, nauseating rhythm that was becoming impossible to deny. She was alone. Or so she thought.
âYouâre doing so well, Danielle,â Shanâs voice came from the doorway, calm and unnervingly serene. She snapped her head up, startled, her face flushed.
âIâm fine,â she gritted out, her hand still pressed against the window. âJust a long week.â
He walked in, closing the door softly behind him. He didnât come close, just leaned against a desk, his arms crossed, his gaze a physical weight on her. âItâs more than that,â he said, his voice a low murmur. âYouâre further along than you think. The body knows what to do.â
âWhat are you talking about?â A sharper wave of painâa contractionâseized her, and she gasped, her knees buckling slightly. She gripped the window sill, her knuckles white. It wasnât a cramp. It was a wave, a tectonic shift inside her. The truth was a landslide, undeniable and terrifying. âYou need to leave,â she panted. âGet the nurse. Call an ambulance.â
âNo,â he said simply, a quiet smile playing on his lips. âNo doctors. No nurses. This is how it should be. Primal. Unassisted.â
âAre you insane?â she hissed, the anger a welcome distraction from the pressure building between her legs. âIâm not⌠this isnâtâŚâ
Another contraction hit, folding her in half. A gush of warm fluid splashed onto the scuffed linoleum floor between her feet, pooling around her sensible flats. Her overalls were soaked. The reality of it crashed over her with the same force as the contraction. She was in labor. And it was happening now.
âShan, please,â she begged, her voice cracking with fear and pain. âI need help.â
âI am helping,â he said, his eyes gleaming with an adoration that was more terrifying than the pain. He finally moved, walking over to her. âYouâre going to stand. Itâs the best way. Let gravity work.â
The next two hours were a blur of agony and a surreal, brutal intimacy she never could have imagined. The school day dissolved. Recess ended, and the children were shuffled to the library by a passing fourth-grade teacher, Mrs. Gable, who peered through the window, her face a mask of horror before she scurried away, undoubtedly to alert the principal. They didnât come. Perhaps they thought it was a rumor, a prank. Or perhaps they simply couldnât process what they were seeing.
Danielle couldnât stand still. Her body demanded motion. She paced the classroom, her wet overalls chafing her thighs, her green sweater plastered to her back with sweat. Sheâd tried to unclasp the overalls, but her fingers were clumsy, useless against the heavy denim. The fabric was a tormentâconstricting her swollen belly, the thick straps digging into her shoulders, the metal clasps biting into her skin every time she bent over. Shan stood by her side, a calm, unnerving presence. He didnât offer to cut them off, didnât offer real aid. He was a spectator, a twisted birthing coach.
âYouâre so beautiful,â he murmured as she leaned over her desk, her entire body straining. âSo powerful. Push, Danielle. Donât fight it.â
âIâm not pushing!â she screamed, the sound raw and guttural. But the urge to bear down was an overwhelming, involuntary force. Her body was pushing without her consent, a primal reflex that stripped away every last shred of control. She felt the baby descending, a massive, unyielding pressure driving down into her pelvis. Her narrow hips, a source of pride in her slim jeans, now felt like a cage of bone, a channel too narrow for what was trying to pass through.
She dropped to her hands and knees on the rug, the colorful alphabet squares a cruel joke beneath her. The position shifted the pressure, and she let out a guttural moan, her forehead pressed to the floor. Her overalls strained across her back, the denim soaked and unforgiving. She crawled, desperate, until she reached a low bookshelf, using it to pull herself into a deep squat. The burning beganâa searing, stretching ring of fire that made her shriek.
âThe head is crowning,â Shan said, kneeling beside her, his voice filled with detached wonder. âI can see it. Dark hair. You need to push harder.â
Another contraction seized her, and she bore down with a scream that tore through the empty hallways. Teachers began to gather at the door. She saw them in fragmentsâMs. Albrightâs shocked face, Mr. Chenâs hand over his mouth, the librarianâs wide eyes. No one came in. No one crossed the threshold into the madness. They were all witnesses to her public, impossible shame.
Danielle couldnât stay in one position. The pain was too consuming, the pressure too relentless. She pushed herself up from the squat, staggering to her feet, her legs slick with fluid. She grabbed the edge of her desk, bending over it, her body convulsing with another contraction. She could feel the head stretching her, splitting her, and she screamed again, a raw, animal sound.
âItâs coming,â Shan said, standing behind her now. âDonât stop.â
She dropped to her knees again, then rose again, unable to find relief. She braced her hands against the chalkboard, her fingers leaving smeared prints on the green surface as she arched her back, pushing against the descending weight. The overalls were soaked, the green sweater clinging to her like a second skin. Nothing relieved the pressure. Every positionâstanding, squatting, kneeling, bent overâwas agony. The baby was low, so low, but her narrow hips seemed to resist, each push a battle against her own anatomy.
âPush against my hands,â Shan instructed, moving in front of her as she dropped into a low squat once more, her back against the desk. He placed his palms on her lower belly, just above the pubic bone, and pressed down with firm, steady pressure. She flinched at the intrusion, but the external force was exactly what her body cravedâsomething to push against, something to help drive the baby down.
She pushed with the next contraction, her face contorted, her scream muffled by her own clenched teeth. Shanâs hands pressed, rubbed in firm, circular motions, applying relentless pressure to her abdomen. It was an act of brutal intimacyâhis calm, controlled force meeting her raw, primal effort.
âAgain,â he commanded. âA big one. I can see the head. Itâs right there.â
She bore down with everything she had, her body trembling violently. The burning intensified to an unimaginable peak, and then, with a final, earth-shattering push, the head emergedâa tight, slick crown that stretched her beyond what she thought possible. Shanâs hands moved lower, his fingers gently supporting the babyâs head as it turned.
âOne more,â he said, his voice low and steady. âThe shoulders. Push, Danielle.â
She let out a guttural roar, her body giving one last monumental effort. There was a sudden, gushing release, and the first babyâa boyâslid free into Shanâs waiting hands, his tiny body slick and purple, his face scrunched in silent protest.
But Danielleâs body was already seizing again, another contraction crashing over her before she could draw breath. There was no pause, no relief. The second twin was coming, fast on the heels of the first.
âThereâs another,â Shan said, and for the first time, something like genuine surprise flickered across his face. He laid the first boy on a pile of clean paper towels heâd somehow procured, then turned back to her. âYouâre not done. Push.â
She couldnât. She had nothing left. But her body didnât care. The contraction ripped through her, and she pushed with a desperate, instinctual force, her scream dissolving into a choked sob. The second baby descended with terrifying speed, the head already crowning before she could brace herself.
Shanâs hands returned to her belly, pressing, rubbing, forcing. âPush it out,â he urged, his face inches from hers. âOne more. Just one more.â
She pushed, her vision going white, her voice cracking as she released a final, ear-splitting scream. The head emerged, then the shoulders, and then the second boy slid into the world with a rush of fluid, his cry immediate and piercing.
Danielle slumped, utterly spent, her body trembling uncontrollably. Blood and fluid stained the rug, her overalls, her hands. She was a landscape of exhaustion and ruin. Shan placed the second boy beside his brother, then reached for her, pulling her limp body against him. She didnât have the strength to resist.
âSee?â he whispered, his lips brushing her ear. His hands found her belly again, rubbing slow, soothing circles over the deflated swell, now massaging to encourage the placenta. âI knew you could do it. My little family.â
Her arms, moving on instinct, came up to curl protectively around the two mewling infants on her chest. Her gaze, hazy with pain and shock, moved from their tiny, perfect faces to Shanâs adoring, possessive eyes. In the doorway, the cluster of teachers had fallen silent, their initial horror now replaced by a chilling, uneasy stillness. They had all seen it. The birth. The obsession. The claiming.
From the hallway, the first faint sound of sirens began to wail, a distant intrusion on the strange, sacred, and utterly brutal scene in Room 2B. Danielle looked down at her sons, then back at the man who had orchestrated it all, and for the first time since the first contraction, she found her voiceânot for a scream, but for a single, broken whisper.
At eighteen, she was already five months pregnant when the judge handed down her sentence. Six months in juvenile detention. Not for anything she'd done. She'd taken the fall for Marcus, her boyfriend, the father of the baby she carried. He'd had so much more to lose, he'd said. A job, a future, a record that would follow him forever. She'd believed him. She'd loved him.
Now she was thirty-eight weeks pregnant, and her water had broken at 2:00 AM in her cell.
The transport van had no windows. Emilia sat on the hard metal bench, her wrists cuffed to a chain around her waist, the contractions already beginning to roll through her like distant thunder. Two corrections officers sat across from her. Both men, both large, both silent. Their names were Officer Martinez and Officer Briggs. They didn't speak to her except to give orders.
The hospital was bright. Too bright. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead as they wheeled her through corridors on a gurney, her cuffs still in place. People stared. Patients, visitors, nurses. They all looked at the young girl in the orange jumpsuit with the enormous belly, flanked by armed guards.
The delivery room was on the fourth floor. They transferred her to a bed, and for a brief moment, Emilia thought they might remove the cuffs. They didn't.
Then the door opened, and Dr. Simons walked in.
He was younger than she expected. Maybe early thirties. He had kind eyes and a gentle smile that immediately put her at ease despite everything. He had dark hair, neatly combed, and his voice was soft when he spoke.
"Emilia? I'm Dr. Simons. I'm going to be taking care of you today."
She nodded, tears already pricking at her eyes. "Please," she whispered. "It hurts."
"I know," he said. "We're going to help you. But first, I need to examine you."
The guards stepped forward. Officer Martinez unlocked the cuffs from her waist, and for one glorious moment, her hands were free. She rubbed her wrists, the skin raw beneath them.
Then Dr. Simons spoke again, and her brief freedom evaporated.
"Emilia, I need you to understand something," he said gently. "Because you're in custody, there's a protocol we have to follow. I need to perform a full examination, and that means I have to check for any contraband you might be concealing. It's standard procedure. Okay?"
She stared at him, uncomprehending. "What do you mean?"
He reached for the zipper of her jumpsuit. "I need you undressed. Completely."
Emilia's hands flew to her chest, clutching the fabric. "No, please, I don't have anything."
"It's protocol," Officer Briggs said flatly from behind her. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be."
Dr. Simons' eyes were sympathetic, but his hands were steady as he continued unzipping her. "I'm sorry, Emilia. I know this is frightening. But we have to do this. The sooner we do, the sooner we can focus on your baby."
She was crying openly now, but she didn't fight. That wasn't who she was. She'd never fought anything in her life. Not her mother, not Marcus, not the judge who sentenced her. She just accepted. Endured.
The jumpsuit peeled away from her shoulders, down her arms, pooling at her waist. Dr. Simons helped her lift her hips to slide it completely off. She sat naked on the hospital bed, her enormous belly the only thing covering her, her small breasts heavy with colostrum, her thighs pressed together instinctively.
"Now lie back for me," Dr. Simons instructed.
She did. The paper crinkled beneath her. The guards moved to either side of the bed, their presence looming.
Dr. Simons picked up a small flashlight and began his examination. He looked in her ears, her mouth, asked her to lift her tongue. He ran his hands through her hair, parting it in sections. He checked under her arms, between her fingers, behind her knees.
Emilia stared at the ceiling, counting the tiles, trying to disappear.
"Now I need to check internally," Dr. Simons said. "I need you to spread your legs for me."
She couldn't. Her muscles locked. The guards exchanged a look.
"Emilia," Dr. Simons said patiently. "I know this is hard. But I need to make sure you're safe, and that nothing is hidden that could hurt you or your baby. Can you do that for me? Can you open your legs?"
Slowly, trembling, she let her knees fall apart.
Dr. Simons pulled on gloves, then reached for the stirrups at the end of the bed. "I need you to put your feet here," he said, guiding each of her calves into the padded rests. "That's it. Just like that."
Her legs were spread wide now, her most intimate self completely exposed under the harsh hospital lights. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Then she felt something else. Velcro. Officer Martinez was on her right, strapping a wide band around her thigh, securing it to the stirrup. Officer Briggs did the same on her left.
"Standard security protocol for inmates in active labor," Briggs explained to no one in particular. "Prevents sudden movements that could harm medical staff or the baby."
Dr. Simons offered her a small, reassuring smile. "It's okay, Emilia. You're safe. Everything is going to be fine. We're going to get through this together."
She believed him.
Fourteen hours later, she didn't believe anything.
The contractions had come in waves, then tsunamis, then an endless, rolling ocean of pain. Emilia had pushed for what felt like forever, her screams echoing off the walls, her body drenched in sweat. The guards hadn't moved. Martinez stood by her right leg, Briggs by her left, their arms crossed, their faces impassive. They watched everything. They watched her cervix dilate, watched the doctor's gloved fingers check her progress, watched her strain and cry and beg.
Dr. Simons had stayed the whole time. He'd held her hand when the guards weren't looking, wiped her forehead with a cool cloth, whispered encouragement. But his face was growing more concerned with each passing hour.
"She's not progressing," he murmured to a nurse. "The baby's head is positioned poorly. She's been pushing for three hours with no rotation."
The nurse nodded, checking the fetal monitor. "Heart rate's stable, but she's exhausted."
Dr. Simons turned back to Emilia. "Sweetheart, I need to try something. The baby is stuck, and I need to help her out. I'm going to need to make a small cut to give her more room, and then I'm going to use forceps to guide her head."
Emilia didn't understand the words, only the tone. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
"Please," she gasped. "Please just get her out. I can't. I can't anymore."
"You can," Dr. Simons said firmly. "You're almost there. But I need you to stay very still for me. Can you do that?"
She nodded frantically, tears streaming down her temples into her hair.
Dr. Simons reached for a tray the nurse had prepared. On it gleamed a pair of long, curved metal forceps, and beside them, a small scalpel.
Emilia saw the scalpel and panicked.
"No. No, please." She tried to close her legs, but the Velcro straps held her spread wide. She thrashed, her hips lifting off the bed, her hands reaching down as if to protect herself.
It happened fast. Officer Martinez grabbed her right leg, pressing it back into the stirrup with both hands, holding it spread. Officer Briggs moved to the head of the bed and pinned her shoulders down with one hand while grabbing both her wrists with the other, forcing her arms above her head.
"Stay still," Briggs growled in her ear. "You heard the doctor. Stay. Still."
"Please," Emilia sobbed. "Please don't. It hurts."
Dr. Simons looked up at her, and for the first time, his kind eyes seemed distant. Focused. "Emilia, I need you to be very brave right now. I'm going to numb the area, but you'll still feel pressure. It's very important that you don't move. The guards are here to help you stay still. Do you understand?"
She didn't. She couldn't. But she nodded anyway, because that's what she always did.
The injection was sharp, a burning line through flesh she couldn't see. Then came the pressure. Not pain exactly, but something worse. A sensation of being opened, of her body no longer belonging to her. She felt the scalpel slice, felt the release of tension as the perineum gave way, and she screamed. A high, keening sound that went on and on.
"Good girl," Dr. Simons murmured. "That's it. Now the forceps."
She felt them next. Cold metal sliding into her, spreading her wider, clamping onto something deep inside. The pressure was immense, crushing. Dr. Simons began to pull.
"Push, Emilia! Push now!"
She pushed. She pushed with everything she had left, which wasn't much. Her screams became grunts, became moans, became a continuous animal wail of agony.
The forceps tugged, and tugged, and then.
A head. A body. A rush of fluid and blood and relief so profound it made her dizzy.
A baby cried. A thin, reedy, furious cry.
"It's a girl," Dr. Simons announced, and for the first time in hours, he smiled. A real smile. "You did it, Emilia. She's beautiful."
They laid the baby on her chest. Slick and warm and screaming. Emilia looked down at the tiny, furious face of her daughter. She was perfect. Absolutely perfect.
Emilia was still crying. So was the baby. The guards had released her, stepping back to their posts, their job done. Dr. Simons was stitching the cut he'd made, explaining something about degrees of tearing, but Emilia didn't hear any of it.
She only heard her daughter's cries.
"You did so well," Dr. Simons said softly, pausing in his work to touch her shoulder. "I'm so proud of you."
Emilia looked up at him, this kind man who had stripped her naked, who had cut her open, who had delivered her daughter into the world with cold metal and gentle words. She didn't know what to feel. Gratitude. Violation. Love. Terror.
All of it. None of it.
"Can I hold her?" she whispered. "Really hold her?"
Dr. Simons glanced at the guards. Officer Martinez shrugged.
"For a few minutes," Briggs said. "Then she goes to the nursery. You'll see her again before transport back."
A few minutes. That was all she got. A few minutes with her daughter before they took her away, before she went back to her cell, before Marcus's name went on the birth certificate and she went back to being invisible.
Another story that I worked on with @allkindsofpreg. As usual - it gets a little kinky in spaces. Here's hoping you enjoy it - first one of 2026.
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You groaned as you lay back in bed, your large belly prominent in your lap. I straddle your legs, supporting my weight on my arms as my chest skims lightly over the stretched skin of your bump. The hairs on my chest scratching and tickling your belly.
âI just wish these babies were here, Iâm as big as a whaleâ you whine, though your tone was playful rather than complaining.
âYou know how big you are turns me onâŚâ my voice is breathy as you feel the hardness of my cock rub against your knee. âTheyâll be here soon⌠letâs just enjoy being child free for as long as we can⌠hell it could be days⌠or even hours at this point in time.â
I lean forward stretching, my chest rubbing against your own chest, your nipples swelling at the contact as my lips meet yours and we kiss, our tongues meeting and swirling together.
âYouâre gorgeous babe.â that was the voice of Stella, the third of our little polycule. She looked up from her position between the legs of Georgie, the final member of our little poly family, who was, letâs be honest, in no fit state to say anything, her moans had just echoed around the room as she came to the feel of a tongue across her folds, her chest heaving as she came down from whatever ecstasy she was experiencing at that very moment.
We had found out only last week that Georgie was expecting her first child and Stella certainly wanted to celebrate the best way she knew how.
âSheâs right,â Georgie added, finally coming back to herself. She looked at your belly longingly and placed a hand over her own still flat stomach. âI canât wait.â She reached a hand across the bed and cupped one of your milk-filled breasts. âAnd I really canât wait for these,â she teased, thumbing your nipple and causing you to gasp, your whole body having been super sensitive for weeks now.
Lately, what with your being so close to going into labour, the three of us loved to gang up on you to make you forget all about the aches in your back, hips and feet. Almost as if weâd rehearsed it, Stella joined in by slipping her hand between your legs, and between our kissing, Georgieâs teasing, and Stellaâs fingering, you were breathless for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with the two babies compressing your lungs.
There was so much pleasure zinging through your bodyâ your lips, your neck, your chest, your clit â it had you writhing, arching, simultaneously trying to lean into and pull away from the sheer magnitude of sensation. âFuck me,â you moaned.
âIs that an exclamation or a request?â Georgie asked with a giggle, pinching your nipple a little harder.
âMm, fuck. Both, I think.â You were already wet and Stellaâs fingers, while talented, didnât fill you up the same way as my cock. You kissed my jaw, my cheek, up to my ear. âNeed you inside me.â
âAs you wish.â I sat back on my heels and suddenly the attention shifted to me. I watched for a moment as the two ladies started with their ministrations, stroking me to make sure I was nice, hard and thick for you. âWhat position would feel most comfortable for you right now?â
It was hard for you to think clearly, but you knew at least you didnât want to be on your back. âOn top. Me. On you.â
You werenât sure if you were even forming coherent words, but I grasped the idea. I rolled to the other side of the bed and, with both Georgie and Stellaâs help, you got to a seated position and crawled over to straddle my thighs.
âIâd suck you off if I could reach you over this thing,â You said, hands tracing around the curve of your huge belly to wrap around my cock. You gave a few languid pulls and cupped my balls before I jerked and grabbed your wrists.
âIâm already well prepared for you, baby,â I explained. âCâmere. I know what you need.â
You shuffled forward on your knees until you were flush with my hips. My hands reached up, rested against the sides of your belly, travelled around to your generous behind, and settled on your hips, guiding you down onto me.
Once I was fully sheathed in your folds, Georgie tilted your chin in her direction and teased your mouth open with her tongue. Stella got behind you, poured some oil into her palms, and kneaded her knuckles into your lower back, up your spine, and into your shoulders.
Your head lolled forward and slumped in pure ecstasy. Georgie turned her focus to me while Stella worked at your overtaxed muscles, and you twisted your hips experimentally. The slow drag of my cock on your walls left you panting. But then you tilted and shifted just so as I happened to thrust up at exactly the same time, it hit a spot that caused stars to burst behind your eyes.
âFuck. Yes. There. Right there.â
Encouraged by your breathless plea, my pace quickened. âThere?â
You nodded, reaching back to weave your fingers through Stellaâs hair. You craned your neck back and she kissed you deeply before moving down to nibble at your neck.
âIâm close. Iâm close, but Iââ you didnât know what, but you certainly seemed to be enjoying the moment.
My hand brushed the underside of your stomach as my thumb found your clit. My pace slowed but my thrusts became harder, deeper, resulting in your exaggerated curves bouncing with every one. Soon you were almost entirely still, the three of us doing all the work to make you whine, moan and clench.
My thumb pressed deeper, Stellaâs tongue and teeth danced across your skin, and finally Georgie returned her focus to you, to the breasts she was so fond of, and you came undone.
You shouted as your whole body seized and then released itself in spasming waves of pleasure, but as those waves receded they were replaced by a different tensionâlonger and more painful.
Your hands flew to your stomach as you tried to catch your breath. The sudden stillness drew everyoneâs attention back to you, and there must have been a strange look on your face because Georgie grabbed your hand, kissing your palm before interlocking fingers with you.
âWhat is it, love?â she asked.
âI- I think I just had a contraction.â
âAre you sure?â I asked. Iâll admit, I sounded concerned â weâd been preparing for this day now for the last 4 weeks after being warned that twins could come early, but here we go â 39 weeks, and it may be the sign that things were underway.
âI⌠think⌠soâŚâ you sounded each word out as if you were unsure. âI mean, Iâve no point of reference, but it certainly felt different to all the Braxton Hicks contractions Iâve been having. Look, lets not get all worked up right now. I mean I think youâre supposed to track them over hours and hours⌠and you have something that needs to be drained.â You of course were referencing my rod-hard cock which was still sheathed deep into you. I of course, was well aware of the fact, but given the situation we were in right now, I wasnât sure if youâd be having second thoughts.
Your hands crept up my body as you lifted your hips, holding your pelvic muscles tight as you did so. I swear the sound was almost like a pop as I slipped out of you, and the gasping groan that escaped my lips was all the sign you needed to know that had hit just the right level.
Stella and Georgie took their own role in this, taking my hands away from you, inserting two of my fingers on each hand into their own mouths. They mimed as if they were sucking my cock by swirling their tongue around my digits, but most importantly, it took away any sort of control I had over your movements. I was lost to the pleasure as I shuddered â you slipped back down my shaft as I felt the pressure building, knowing it was close to release.
âLet it goâ you whispered, sensing my quivering body ready for release. âCum for meâŚâ you continued to whisper breathy little statements like that as you bounced, the sounds of the other two reduced to grunts and moans as they played with my fingers.
âI canât, I canât hold on.â I sounded almost pleading, as if I wanted to keep this moment going forever.
âCum⌠daddy!â you moaned as your head fell back and your eyes closed, another surge taking you. You knew that if this was the real deal, you likely would be a few weeks before you would feel me inside you again, so you were determined to make me have the best orgasm you could.
Your hands pulled back on your belly, as if trying to ease the weight for a few moments, but I couldnât hold on any longer. The groan escaped my lips as I felt my twitching cock expel its load. You lifted yourself off me, a sticky trail of my fluids dripping out of you as you shuffled back. Stella noticed the mess and turned toward you, her fingers dipping between your legs â to another gasp from you, as Georgie let go of my fingers and her head turned towards the glistening mess between my legs. I was half expecting her to try and take me in her mouth, but she ran her finger through the puddle we had left and brought it up to my chest, trailing her wet finger through my hair.
âLook at the mess you made, weâll have to clean the sheetsâ she said wickedly.
âWe might have more than a bit of cum to worry about getting the sheets dirty.â You interrupted, hand pressed hard into your side. âThat was another one.â
Just to make sure it was the real deal and not just a very intense false labour, Georgie brought you a glass of water while I led you around the house for a bit. Despite the hydration and the movement, a combination that would usually stop the Braxton Hicks, the contractions still came regularly, and closer together than seemed normal for this early in the process.
After a couple hours, a light snack, and about a hundred trips up and down the hallway, we determined that this was likely happening, finally.
âAre we ready to be parents?â You huffed, the last contraction strong enough to leave you winded. I kissed you as Georgie wrapped her arms around you from behind and Stella wrapped herself around me. âIâll take that as a yes.â
Stella took to changing out the linens - both because we had made quite a mess of the sheets and so she could replace them with the special waterproof ones we had bought in anticipation of labour. We werenât entirely sure that a home birth would be possible, as multiples tended to have more complications, but youâd had a healthy pregnancy and the midwife said we could give it a go as long as things seemed to be going smoothly.
This initial stage had you restless - not quite comfortable enough to allow you to rest, but not quite uncomfortable enough to feel like any real progress was being made. You walked and leaned and swayed as much as your body would allow, but eventually your back began to ache and the continuous movement started to hurt more than it helped.
âWhat can we do to make it better, love?â I asked.
Your skin was still coated in now dried salty liquids from our earlier escapades, and some hot water sounded heavenly. âShower?â You suggested.
Our extra large shower could normally accommodate all four of us, but now that you had two extra people on board that hadnât been logistically possible for quite some time now. We still managed to wedge three of us in there - Georgie in front, me in the back, and you and the twins sandwiched in between.
The warm water was a balm to your aching joints and you leaned back into me. I reached my arms around your waist and clasped me hands beneath your huge belly, supporting some of the weight and relieving it from your spine as I dipped my head down to kiss the crook of your neck.
Georgie lathered you up, take her time massaging her hands into your shoulders, your breasts, your hips, your thighs. As your face pinched with the start of a new contraction, she dipped her fingers into your folds and you gasped, pressing back into me. I was getting hard again, holding myself still in an attempt to quell the rising urge.
âItâs okay,â you said, craning your neck to kiss my lips. You tilted your hips back and ground your ass against my cock. âWant to take care of you too, daddy.â
My grip on your stomach tightened and I pressed myself even closer. I moved my hands to your breasts and slotted my dick between your ass cheeks as my hips began a steady rhythm, sliding up and down between them as my fingers teased your sensitive nipples. This intensified the contraction causing you to gasp, the pressure increasing from a dull indistinct ache into something sharper and more precise. Georgie stroked your clit and her fingers danced inside you as she leaned over your shoulder, pulling you into her bosom and in for a deep kiss.
In what could be a truly impressive display of acrobatics considering the situation, you managed to duck under Georgieâs arm and switch positions so that she could finish me off while you rode out the rest of the contraction. The soap, water and pain was making you feel a bit unsteady, so you got out of the shower â you figured it would make things easier for us two without you in there anyway.
Stella immediately wrapped you in a warmed towel and brought you over to the newly made bed. There were at least a dozen pillows, soft blankets essential oils being diffused in the air and romantic music playing - this was so much better than giving birth in a hospital.
âRest while you can,â she instructed, helping you onto the mattress and shoving soft things into every uncomfortable crevice until it truly felt like you were floating.
Your back was elevated to about a 45 degree angle, your naked belly and breasts spilling out over your thighs. Your knees were up and bent, lazily opening out to the sides and putting your vagina on full display. It almost looked like the position women traditionally gave birth in, and when I emerged from the bathroom with Georgie in tow, you could tell the sight awakened something primal in me.
Your stomach squeezed, the pressure returning, and you made a show of opening your hips wider, pulling apart your folds to give me a good look at where our babies would soon be coming from.
âPretty soon thereâs going to be a head crowning right here,â you said, tracing your opening. âBut itâs so small, and our babies are so big.â You laid your hand atop the peak of your swell for emphasis - it was an impressive distance. âIs this how I should do it?â You hooked your hands behind your knees and pulled them back so that your feet were off the bed. You looked at each of the three of us in turn. âHow do you want to see me birth these babies?â
âAs long as both you and the babies are healthy, then Iâm not botheredâŚâ there was an audible gasp in the room as both Stella and Georgieâs hands went to their mouths in shock.
My proclivity for birth was well known between the three of us, even before you were pregnant I had the three of you dress up with fake bellies and play out scenes from birth videos we had watched. They always made me hard and if truth be told it was probably a result of those videos that caused the babies to be conceived in the first place. Hence the passive attitude was completely unexpected.
âWho am I kiddingâŚâ I added with a smile, looking from eye to eye with each of the ladies in the room watching them realise I was leading them on. âI want to see you push, I want to see you stretch, and maybe⌠just maybe I want to see you howl as you do it. I want you nice and wide, moaning through your pushes, and I want my other ladies teasing you throughout. I want to cum on your belly as you push, maybe even feed you my cum so it dribbles out of your lips as your pussy lips drool their own juices. I want you to reach that pinnacle of pleasure and pain so you cum as the head pops out of you. And of course I want a good view of it at all times. I want these two beautiful ladies make you beg as they suckle on your breasts, getting you ready for feeding two hungry mouths in the aftermath. All in all I want the birth of my first children to be a memory all four of us will treasure.â
My speech had all three of you looking wide eyed and wanting, the four of us all ultimately wanting the same thing. It was your wince, as the next contraction picked up that broke the reverie of the moment.
As you lolled your head back, offering your hands for both myself and Stella to take one each so you could squeeze as the contraction built, you let out a chuckle.
âOne hell of a voyeurs show coming up daddyâŚâ
You laboured in this position for quite a while, being stroked, kissed, massaged and fingered until youâd come at least twice more. But then progress stalled and you were brought back to your feet for a bit.
The added pressure on your spine caused you to be more vocal during the contractions, but you figured Iâd rather like that.
âMmm. Ohh. Oh, they feel so low.â You bent forward to massage the bottom of your stomach. It had dropped considerably since labour had started, and while it gave your lungs a bit more breathing room, it increased the pressure between your hips even more. Your legs shuffled apart so you were standing in a wide V. âLike they might justâmmmâfall out of me any minute.â
I came up and dipped a finger inside of you - deeply. âNot so low after all,â I teased, adding in another finger. âYouâre gonna have to work hard to get my big babies out of this tight little pussy.â
You shuddered in anticipation. It would feel so good to start pushing, but your body wasnât ready for that yet. You bent over the dresser, resting your forehead on your crossed arms as all the mass of your belly pooled down and to the front. Your full breasts swayed side to side in time with your hips as you rode out the contraction with my fingers inside you and Stellaâs hand pressed firmly against your sacrum.
âGooood, mama,â Georgie praised, stroking your hair as you mimicked the measured breaths she took. âBreathe it away.â
You gave up leaning on the furniture and had to walk around. After a few more laps of the room, your legs got a little too shaky, your sweat dampened skin got a little too cool and your stomach got a little too nauseous, so you requested a stint in our massive tub.
It took a while to fill, but it was so worth it. The weightlessness instantly relieved the pressure on your back, knees and feet and the warmth loosened some of the tightness in your muscles. You didnât want to lose the comforting touch I had been giving you all this time, so begged me to follow you into the tub â I was hardly one to argue at a request like that!
Still wanting to move things along, you stayed in a squatting position, with me supporting you from behind. I wrapped my arms under yours, hands resting on your breasts and stimulating your nipples during contractions, making them come hard and fast and in turn making you moan and whimper.
Georgie and Stella were kneeling on the side of the tub to help support. Georgie held your hand while Stella massaged your hard belly whilst you rode out wave after wave of contractions. Some combination of the water, the stimulation and the relaxation ramped up the intensity. You could no longer speak â were reduced to primal grunts and groans that transformed into meditative howls at Georgieâs prompting you to be loose. Your eyes drifted closed as you focused only on the physical sensations of your body. Your nipples, gently rolled between two fingers. Your stomach, sharp and tight and full. Your clit, circled and stroked and pressed thanks to Stellaâs roaming hands. Your hips, aching from being held so open for so long. Your ass and thighs, making small figure eights in the water as you rolled your hips.
The sensations were constant now, both pleasure and pain, and you gave yourself over fully to feeling them. You writhed and panted, thrashed and growled and it got to a point where finally you decided the water did absolutely nothing to ease the mounting pressure. The next contraction came upon you so fiercely and suddenly that you screamed, lurching forward onto your knees and gripping the edge of the tub with one hand and your stomach with the other.
âHnghh, fuck! Ow, shit, fuck!â you gasped, slamming your fist against the rim to emphasize your cursing. âHahh, ahh, mmmmm.â You tried to relax back into the flow state youâd managed previously, but something was different now.
âWhat is it, love?â Stella asked, pushing a strand of hair out of your face.
You whimpered, tried to stand, failed miserably. âBed. Please,â you managed.
We worked in unison to pull you up out of the water. You cried out at the sudden weight of gravity adding to the already unbearable pressure, and after stepping out of the tub, I had to carry you the few feet across the room.
You laid in much the same position you had teased me with earlier, only this time the display was real. âCheck me,â you begged, your legs falling open as your face scrunched up in pain. âI think- I think I need to push!â
âAre you sure?â Georgie asked, excitement mixing with worry. âYour water hasnât even broken yet.â
âThatâs why I wanted someone to fucking check me,â you groaned out, and Georgie looked like a kicked puppy. âSorry, George, I - fuck, I just really need to start doing something with all this pressure building up inside, you know?â
She nodded, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles. You added âI just donât want anything to go wrong. Plus⌠pregnancy hormones.â
We all had a tension relieving chuckle at that, which was interrupted with a hiss as I stuck your fingers inside and probed your cervix.
âWell?â You had the blanket in a death grip as I sought my determination. But I was too slow. Another contraction came right on the heels of the last one and you couldnât help but push with it. âFuck, Iâm pushing, Iâm pushing!â Stella grabbed your other hand as you threw your head back, knees pulling up and back as your heels dug in and your toes curled with the effort.
âMmmnahhh!â At the crest of the contraction, something gave way. A dam broke, both literally and metaphorically, and the entire lower half of my arm was coated in amniotic fluid as the push broke your waters with my hand still inside you.
We all stared down between your legs for a moment, a bit shocked and definitely excited. Some of the pressure had been released, but that fluid was quickly being replaced with the very large and solid head of our first baby. Your back arched, pushing out your belly and breasts even further, at the sensation, as if your whole insides were being pulled down and out through my vagina by a very strong, very large string.
âBabyâs still pretty far up there, but youâre at ten.â I smiled at you, kissed your knee and looked back between my legs hungrily. âTime for Stage 2.â
You blew out your breath, you were unconsciously holding it in following the soaking that my hand had just gotten, and the thoughts of what was on the horizon - and more importantly, what youâd have to do to scale that proverbial mountain. You looked down. There was an expanding pool of murky water just visible past the extremities of your belly, prevented from soaking into the sheets by the waterproof top cover.
âCan you cleanâŚâ you were cut short as you noticed your belly tighten around the babies within it, the next contraction building rapidly and squeezing you forcefully. You closed your eyes and winced, squeezing the two ladies hands as you sought something to do to react to the sensations that were surging inside you. Your knees closed almost involuntarily, trapping my arm in place as Iâd extracted my hand, but werenât quick enough to move out of the way.
âThese feelings are just too much⌠it hurts, it hurts, what do I do⌠what do I do.â You were in a bit of a panic, and the other three of us all joined in at once.
âJust breathe⌠let it comeâ came Stella, her free hand moving to your shoulder.
âPush when you need to, youâre doing great!â That was Georgie, her free hand moving towards your knee trying to separate them to release my arm.
âThis⌠this is so beautiful⌠youâre so beautiful, youâre doing great.â That was me, who at that very moment was transfixed by the shape your belly had made.
It was absolute cacophony, four people making noise at once, though it was suddenly all overridden by your own roar as your knees flopped wide, you grabbed your inner thighs and pushed. The rest of us were awestruck. Finding my arm released once more I scrambled forward through the water puddle on the bed so I was directly in front of you, my hands on top of yours, interlocking with your fingers digging into your thighs so my head was visible over your belly, and we locked eyes.
âThatâs it, Push!â I spoke in front of you. You could only nod as the contraction faded. âI need you all to help me!â The frustration was definitely still there in your tone.
-
This was new for all of us, so you tried to allow everyone some grace⌠but damnit, it hurt and nothing anyone said or did seemed to be helping. You pushed with everything you had with every contraction, but you may as well have been pushing up against a stone wall. When you yelled, more in frustration than pain, Georgie patted your arm in sympathy.
âYouâve just got to relax, mummy. The baby will come when itâs ready.â
Stella must have been able to sense your less than helpful retort sitting there on your lips, and interrupted with, âWhy donât we try something a little different then, yeah?â She sat on the bed behind you, leaning back against the headboard and moving the pillow tower out of the way, opened up her legs, and pulled you up so you were pressed directly against her chest.
I took the opportunity to soak up the birthing fluids with a towel and toss it into the bathroom before crawling back between your legs. âAlright?â I asked, tracing a line up and down your inner thigh. When you didnât answer, I dipped into your folds and smiled. âItâs so close now, love. I can feel the head just inside.â
âReally?â you asked, hopeful. I nodded and you placed your hands around the curve of your stomach. âJust a little more, babies. Momma needs your help.â
Your belly contorted and clenched as a new contraction began and you reached your arms overhead to grip on the headboard over Stellaâs shoulder as you gave myself over to another push.
âHnghhhhahh! Ahh, fuck!â Your heels pressed into the mattress, bringing your hips up until I forced them back down into a stable position. âFuck, stop, I need to- I needââ you gasped as Georgieâs tongue stroked long and hard across my chest.
âYou need to relax,â she repeated with a wicked smile. She trailed kisses across your collarbone, down your chest, and then took one of your breasts in her mouth, lapping and sucking at your nipple in such a way that a different kind of pressure began building inside of you. âYou like that, huh momma?â she hummed against your skin.
âOh. Ooooh, oh god. Mmmmnahhh!â Something finally gave way and the head surged forward, bulging out your lips and pressing insistently against my hole.
âThatâs it, itâs right there!â I called from my post between your legs, shuffling closer. âYouâll be crowning in no time.â
You pulled Georgieâs face up to yours and kissed her while Stella took over massaging your breasts. You paused to push whenever there was a contraction, but in between there was always touching, kisses, love.
When your folds began to part in earnest, you howled, âBurns! Itâs burning!â and the three of us redoubled our efforts. Every sensual part of you felt like it was being tended to simultaneously â your lips, your neck, your breasts, your ass, your thighs. You had the vague sense of me working to stroke your clit at the same time as I was stroking my cock and my words from earlier came back to you.
You reached between your legs and your hand found its way to my shaft. You brushed its hard length with your fingertips and then felt for the coin sized bit of pubic hair that was left sitting at your opening after we had recently styled you. âCome on me,â you said, moving your fingers to your clit, taking over pleasuring yourself in the downtime between contractions.
âWhat?â I asked, incredulous, as if I hadnât been the one to suggest it in the first place.
âMark me as yours. Paint me with your seed. Make me taste you, make me scream, make me come as Iâm spread open unbearably wide.â You let out three quick huffs of air as your fingers moved with greater urgency. âAnd do it quickly-eee!â your last word morphed into a squeal and then a shout as the next contraction slammed into you.
Your hands moved, hooking under your knees and pulling them back as you locked eyes with me over the huge dome of your stomach, as once more, you pushed.
It was as if all my birthdays came at once⌠and I wasted no time in reaching down between my own legs and stroked my shaft, feeling the slickness meet my fingers at the tip.
I shuffled back and got up on my haunches as I slowed my breathing and let my fingers start to play. Back and forth my hand moved, squelching noises soon following the back and forth movement.
My eyes met with yours over your belly and though you were obviously in pain as the contraction built, your eyes also showed longing, and I knew then you wanted this rather than just saying it knowing it would please me.
Your chin dropped to your chest and you moaned out loud and low as you pulled your legs back further, Stella and Georgie maintaining the touch and massage they had started.
With Stella behind you, she focused entirely on you, her hands rubbing circles and tugging at your nipples, finally squeezing out a few drops of colostrum as you gasped and pushed. She let go with one hand and turned your head so her lips could meet hers in an embrace.
Yours moans met her voice purring into yours âyouâre so sexy, stretch for me mamma, push that head out. â
The show was electric for me, and quite soon I was beginning to huff and puff myself, starting to lose control.
Georgie sensed the progression and stepped off the bed, leaving you as she walked in behind me, reached a hand under my ass and between my legs, brushed her fingers over my balls and took a long finger and stroked it down my shaft from as far as she could reach back to my ass. The added sensation caused me to flinch and a spurt of creamy white cum flowed out of me and dribbled down my hand into the bed.
I could do nothing else but groan, my own moaning noises meshing with yours, your focus now on Stellaâs tongue playing with yours. Georgie got in close behind my ear and nibbled lightly whispering âthat cum is the same stuff thatâs going to make me swell as much as this gorgeous lady⌠8 more months and weâll be doing this all again.â
Her hand wrapped around my fingers and joined in with the back and forth movement as her eyes caught sight of between your legs.
It was clear that the baby was on the way. Your gasping pushes had bulged your opening to grotesque levels, your lips open in an oval and the view of the first tufts of the babyâs matted hair more than visible.
âLook at our baby, look at our babyâ she was elated, and she kissed my neck.
That was what pushed me over the edge, that kiss. I knew I was close with the dribbling, but I couldnât hold any longer. The stream of cum flew out into a gigantic arc and splattered into your tummy, soon followed by a second and third splatter until the force behind it had dissipated and all that was left was another dribble into our combined hands.
I stared at the fluid as it slid down your belly but Georgie wouldnât let it travel too far, moving past me to rub it into the giant mound you held in front of you.
Her sticky hands slid down the side of your belly and rubbed the wet liquid into the hand you were gripping your inner thigh with.
âYou feel that babe⌠your pushing has looked so sexy youâve made him cum that much⌠and itâs all for you and the good work youâre doing with the baby⌠now⌠letâs see the head!â
You grunted again. Turning your head away from Stella you wined âitâs coming, I can feel it stretching⌠Iâm burning, Iâm burning!â
Georgieâs hand drifted inward, providing gentle counterpressure against the emerging head.
âWhat are you doing?â you practically screeched, trying to shuffle backward but blocked by Stellaâs firm presence. âIt needs toâfuckâcome oooout!â
âItâs gonna come, baby,â Stella soothed, peppering kisses along the back of your neck and rubbing a hand up and down your belly when your lips turned down into a pout. âJust not too fast. Gotta keep mama safe too.â
âPlus this way itâll last longer,â Georgie added wickedly, fingers tracing the modest crown in fascination.
In the space between contractions, you were grateful for the pause, the time to revel in the beauty and strength of this moment - your naked body, soft, round and full, growing and nurturing life and then labouring to bring it forth surrounded by all the people that created this family. You cupped your palm around the dome between your legs, wincing in anticipation of everything still behind the skin breaching the small hole at its peak.
âI believe you promised that crowning would come with an orgasm,â you sighed, leaning heavily against Stella.
âI believe youâre right.â I looked wicked, and though you missed it, you were certain that I had winked.
You were kind of joking - now that it was happening, you couldnât imagine how that would be possible - but then you felt my hands replace yours. I moved them out, massaged your thighs and relaxed your knees open even further. I drifted a finger over the glazing work on your stomach. My finger then pressed into your clit, which was prominent and distended with the babyâs head pressing out beneath it.
âItâs- itâs coming. Another oneâs coming,â you warned, licking your lips as your breathing picked up.
Stella slipped out from behind you and I slid my hands under your ass, pulling your hips forward so that you were lying flat on your back. Stella and Georgie each hooked an arm around the back of one of your knees and hiked them out and back, pinning your legs practically down to the bed.
âHow am I supposed to push like this?â In response, each of the girls took one of your breasts in their mouth and began to suck. You gasped, instinctually reaching behind to grab hold of the headboard and arching further into the warm, wet heat of their mouths. The pressure mounted and you pushed, howling as the unbearable burn returned. As if theyâd practiced, Stella and Georgie simultaneously took your nipples between their teeth and gave a little tug, lapping and swirling the area with their tongues â your hips would have bucked if they werenât held in place.
This continued in a cycle, you giving little pushes only to be distracted by pleasure, then giving in to the pressure long enough to stretch a little more only to be overtaken once more.
A different kind of tension began building in your core, always just beginning to surface when it was drowned out by the pain of a contraction. Your hands let go of the headboard and darted between your legs, fluttering uselessly around the tight circle of flesh that was so close to giving way, but also seemed to retreat at the last second.
âPlease, more. I need more. I needââ you hissed in frustration as another contraction began.
âI know, love,â I said, as if Iâd been waiting for you to beg. Iâd been enjoying the show, and knew your body well enough to know what you needed even when you didnât. I grabbed the little vibrating wand from the nightstand and waited until everything picked up - Stellaâs and Georgieâs kisses, your grunting pushes, the pressure behind the bulging head - and then flicked it on.
Your body jerked when the vibe pressed against your clit, causing you to scream in surprise.
âKeep pushing,â I urged, firmly holding one of your hips and the toy in place.
You started panting, writhing and gasping for breath and sanity against the conflicting powerful sensation zinging through my body. âUnghh, nghhhhah!â You managed to focus some energy on pressing back against the pressure bearing down in your hips.
âGood girl, more,â I instructed, other hand now moving to gently press against the skin surrounding the tight crown.
You took one deep breath and held it, bearing down with more force than any of your previous pushing attempts. You howled, your hole stretched almost to the point of breaking. Time seemingly stood still for you, but only a moment later the pleasure finally, finally peaked.
âFfffuuuuuuck!â you yelled as your climax rolled through you, the waves of muscle contractions adding to the effort of your pushing and relaxing the tissues just enough to allow the huge head to finally slide through, another spray of fluids released behind it and spraying onto me and the bed.
âGuess weâre gonna need another towel,â Georgie said, looking at the mess and pressing a kiss into your temple. âGood job, mamma.â
You could only nod as you breathed deep, ragged breaths coming down from the sensations that coursed through your body, the feeling of fullness between your legs abated somewhat, but there was still fullness around the babyâs neck⌠and the ever present feeling of shoulders just behind the entrance.
It must have only taken a second or two before Stella had dug two fingers back between your legs leaving you to gasp at the intrusion.
âSorryâ came her apologetic announcement âbut I need to check for a cord.â Her fingers circumnavigated the neck and you felt a slight tug as she pulled on the cord making sure it had plenty of movement. She suddenly let out a squeal of pleasure as the head turned and we all got a proper look at our first baby.
I know âtheyâ say parents will love a child unconditionally, and Iâll be honest, theyâre probably right⌠but right now that baby was a squashed, bloody mess and needed a good wipe down but sure⌠I can see how it can happen.
âSomeone support the head I need to push!â Your announcement was sudden and broke us all out of our reverie. Georgie had thrown another towel down under your ass and the baby to give somewhere to lay it down on after it was born so she was closest, barging me out the way to be involved. Your eyes scrunched up and we were back to pushing once more.
I stood by your lower quarter where you rested your leg against me, Stella scooting around to grab your other leg and together we urged you on to push. Together we operated as one, your downward force and the two of us opening your pelvis as Georgieâs fingers slid into your opening and pressed down on your skin, guided out the first shoulder, then soon after the second.
You gasped, announcing the relief was impossible to measure and soon after the slippery infant was lifted up from between your legs, you gave a yell of success and the messy bundle was placed to rest on your belly.
âGo mamma⌠itâs a boy!â she announced. In parallel, your body flooded with hormones and tears flooded your eyes. We knew you were expecting one of each, non identical twins in their own sacs⌠we found that out from the scans weâd been having - what we werenât sure was which would be born first as the babies had been awkwardly placed when room ran out in your womb.
Tears continued to leak from your eyes and this little body jostled up and down on your chest in time with your own silent cries. Stella leaned back on the bed to pull you closer into her side as you buried your face against her for a moment, entirely overwhelmed.
Seems our firstborn child was a son⌠what we didnât know was how soon heâd be joined by his sister.
âHeâs so beautiful, babe,â Stella said, kissing the top of my head and rubbing a soothing hand up and down my arm. âSo proud of you.â
You nodded, took a shuddering breath, and finally looked down at our son. He was waxy and red and scrunched and a bit cone shaped⌠and the most beautiful thing youâd ever laid eyes on. Georgie had come over with a towel and started to rub the baby down to get off most of the vernix and birth fluids.
I in turn pulled one of the soft baby blankets from the pile beside the bed and pulled it over the two of you as you both got to know each other. After a few minutes he seemed to settle, recognizing the scent of your skin and surrounded by warmth.
The flutters in your stomach reminded you that you were only halfway done, but the contractions were weak and sporadic and it seemed as though his sister was going to take her sweet time coming out. You twisted your hips and stretched as the ache began to settle in from being in this position for too long.
âAlright?â I asked, wondering at the discomfort evident on your face. âContractions?â
âNo,â you shook your head. âWell, yes, but nothing to be bothered about yet. Iâm justâmaybe help me sit up?â
Stella and myself sprang into action, propping you up and shoving pillows behind your back until you were semi-upright.
âBetter?â I asked.
You nodded. âMuch.â The shift in position jostled the baby and he got restless. After a moment, you realized his movements against your chest werenât random â he was rooting. âOh! Oh, youâre hungry.â You pulled him a little to the side, but he still wasnât quite in the right position. âA little help?â
Stella shoved another pillow under your arm as I reached to nudge the babyâs head toward your nipple. When he still wasnât latching, I scooped a hand under your breast, filling my hand with it and aiming it toward the babyâs mouth like a bottle.
âThere it is,â I said as his mouth finally closed around your offered nipple.
âOh thatâs so strange!â You said, looking up at each of us in wonder. You giggled, cried a little, went back to smiling. Once heâd gotten the hang of it, he sucked like he was starving.
âBe sure to leave some for your sister,â Georgie chastised lightly, brushing her fingers over his thigh and up his side.
As if listening to her, he released you with a wet pop and a soft mewling sound. You put a hand behind his head and brought him up to your shoulder, gently rubbing and patting his back until he released a soft hiccup burp. Once he settled again, your own eyes began to drift closed and you realized just how bone tired you were.
âWhy donât you take a rest?â Georgie suggested, kissing one of your still-bent knees.
You released a whine of protest as Stella gave your arm a sympathetic squeeze. âWeâll take good care of him, I promise. You should try and sleep if you can.â
âItâs funny,â you said, handing the baby off to me, now shirtless in preparation for some skin-to-skin time with my son, âthese early contractions seemed so unbearable before; now theyâre just a minor inconvenience.â
As I snuggled in beside you - and Stella and Georgie beside me - you drifted off thinking maybe, just maybe, the second birth would be a little easier than the first.
Wishful thinking.
I listened contentedly to the sounds of the room - your sighing breaths as you seemed, somehow to drift off, and the mewling noises of the baby as he became accustomed to his new found freedom.
About 15 minutes had passed as Stella looked up and over at you. âIs she asleep? I mean⌠how. Isnât she having contractions?â
Georgie piped up âyeah but sheâs also pushed that big blob out⌠thatâs got to take some effortâ pointing towards me and the baby.
âHey!â I retorted âour son is not a blob⌠heâs cute and chunky!â The three of us had a little giggle between ourselves as your eyes opened. I put my fingers to my lips, and announced âshhhâ to the other two as you smiled, laid your head back and closed your eyes again.
The two ladies got up off the bed and picked the baby up off me as they walked over to the crib and wrapped the newborn up in a swaddle and laid him down. His own ordeal seemed to have worn him out as much as his mum as the babyâs eyes were closed and he nodded off as soon as he was laid down.
I decided to get up. Placed a kiss on your forehead as I pulled a blanket up to cover you. I announced I was going to jump in the shower and wash off some of the grime and muck that covered my hands and arms. Georgie decided to follow me as Stella announced she wasnât going to take her eyes off the baby.
We got under the warm water and had only about 5 minutes of relaxing into each otherâs touch when we heard your grunting. We nodded at each other, mutual understanding that things were starting to happen again as we shut off the water and started to towel down heading back toward the bedroom.
We got into the room to see you out of bed and bent over the crib, you and Stella staring at the contented baby inside. You turned as you saw me enter and grinned âtime for take two I think.â
I walked to greet you in the apparent mid point of a contraction as you turned and leaned into me, your back and shoulders against my chest. You let out a groan as I captured your belly - noticing it seemed a lot looser - not really surprising considering - and held it. The feel of the contraction was evident. You rested against me, legs parted wide as your groan echoed around the room.
You suddenly held your breath and closed your eyes. âThatâs it girl, big strong push, letâs get baby sister out okayâ - the words of encouragement came from Stella whoâs eyes had followed you as you moved around the room.
Another grunt, another push and your hands pressed into your thighs. You leaned forward and I felt your ass stick out to and press into my own belly. You shimmied - yes, shimmied, down my torso as I felt your ass slide down my body and rest in my crotch. My hands moved from your belly and grasped your hips as my fingers pressed into your lower back. âThatâs it⌠right thereâ you groaned, the pleasure evident. âStick them in meâŚâ
Georgie could only giggle. She caught sight of my uncomfortable situation between my legs as she announced âI donât think thatâs what heâs thinking of sticking in you!â
A part of you was tempted to let this play out and feel what it would be like to have me inside you right now, like this. But the bigger part of you was so incredibly sore, tired and already aching with fullness once again. You reached between your legs but there was nothing to feel yet, not even a bulge to indicate our daughter was close to making her appearance. You pulled your hand away with a hiss as another contraction forced you into a pained hunch.
âMmmm. Whooo. Oh, itâs already hurting,â You groaned as you pressed back into my hands, spreading your legs further apart as you let gravity and some gentle pushes bring the baby further down.
âI know, mama, but youâre almost done,â Stella soothed, giving the baby in the crib one last look before fully turning her attention back to you. She got to the side of you and cupped your quivering belly, letting you lean into her shoulder as I held your hips and spine. âJust keep pushing and sheâll be here before you know it.â
We stayed like this for several contractions, progress slow and steady, the only movement gentle rocking on the spot. At some point Georgie had placed a small mirror on the floor between your feet so that we could all watch each push with anticipation. At first there was nothing much to see - your already red, loosened hole fluttering open and closed around nothing; a few drips of stringy fluid reaching to the floor; the occasional pair of fingers peeling back your lips, probing the area, searching. All the while I suffered with you, the strain in my cock reaching painful levels in itself.
Then it finally happened, taking you by surprise once again. Pressure peaked, a hard push, and then a release of a huge gush of fluids. It drowned out the mirror, but you didnât need it to know the baby had dropped dramatically into position. You gasped, nearly dropping into a deep squat if it werenât for me and Stella holding you in place.
âWannaânghâpush on you,â you grunted as the burning returned â she was close.
âI think you already are,â I pointed out with a laugh, adjusting the position of my hips against yours.
You shook your head, but waited until the contraction had finished before elaborating. âBed,â you commanded, pointing and nudging me in its direction, and I obeyed. I sat tentatively on the edge, but you chased me on your hands and knees until my back was against the headboard. Only then did you pause, your knees by my hips, and sit back on your haunches, on my lap, facing me.
You shimmied forward almost up onto my stomach until your opening was pressed up against my hard, erect length, your hands holding onto my shoulders for support as mine gripped your hips, pulling you even closer. Then, when another contraction started, you pushed.
âFuuuck,â I groaned, my fingers digging into your ass as your vagina bulged and pressed into my dick. âFuck, Iâm close.â
âMe too,â you joked with a breathless laugh, which turned into a moan as you bore down again.
âYes. Push, baby, push,â I encouraged, trying and failing to keep my hips from pumping on instinct.
You didnât have such control, and tilted your hips forward and back, rubbing your clit against my engorged length in a desperate attempt to balance the stinging pain with a tiny bit of pleasure. You squeezed your knees to keep yourself pressed up against me as you leaned back, surprised but relieved to find Georgie right there to help hold you up. You leaned against her chest and she reached under your arms, stroking down your belly to between your legs to take over stimulating you while Stella, who seemed to appear out of nowhere, toyed with your nipples and massaged your lips with her tongue until they parted for her. She swallowed my groan as you pushed, finally releasing the hold keeping your knees in place so that they could widen.
âComing, itâs coming,â you panted, the warning morphing into a cry as the head bulged obscenely outward, pulling your lips tightly away from your body, like a little volcano about to erupt into a full crown. âAre you?â you asked, unable to see the state of me from this angle over your still round stomach.
Iâd lost control⌠unable to respond. My body was shaking, massively over stimulated. In front of my eyes you were pushing once again, the two other ladies joining in to give you support and what could only be described as a sensual massage as I basically lay there a quivering mess. I tried to say something - anything - but all that came out was a groan of my own. I felt my crotch pulse⌠usually the surefire sign of cumming⌠but nothing came out. I was dry. Between the sheer amount of times Iâd ejaculated today I was basically spent.
Youâd started to feel the contractions more and more and by this point you were leaning forward, ass in the air, your face buried into my chest where I could feel the heat of your breath on me as you sucked in a breath, roared it out, and sucked in once more.
Stella held one hand whilst you had the other scrunched hard into the bedclothes and mattress whilst Georgie had moved around behind you and had started applying oil around the tight ring forming around the babyâs head.
Thatâs when we heard her panicked gasp. Stella was the first to realise and asked what was up.
Whilst there was a certain protrusion now between your legs which was no doubt the next baby⌠it was certainly not the babyâs head. The baby was coming out breech. And to make matters just that little bit worse, her legs were tucked up inside you making everything all the more complicated - and bigger - to push out.
âItâs burning alreadyâ you cried. âI thought Iâd nearly had the head again⌠Iâm⌠iâmâŚâ you lost focus on what you were saying as you put all the force you could muster into pushing once more, the need overwhelming you.
âMy back, my back!â I cried, letting off the push as the unusual position of the baby put pressure on the nerves there. Any progress Iâd made was lost, and her bum disappeared back inside. At least it took the edge off the burning.
âWhatâs wrong, love?â Stella asked as you removed yourself from my lap and crawled to the other side of the bed. âI know we were hoping for another head-down birth, but itâs not like we didnât prepare for this.â
âPretty common, really,â Georgie added, giving your thigh a little pat as she tried to reassure us both.
âItâs not that, itâs â ah, fuck!â It was a little that, but mostly it was that the contractions now felt like daggers in your spine. Your arms gave out under you so that you were laying on your side facing me. You grabbed for my hand and squeezed, twisting and writhing in a futile attempt to find some sort of relief even as Georgie and Stella attempted to hold your legs apart. You never got more than a couple of half-hearted pushes in before youâd cry out and shift uncomfortably.
âYou have to let her come,â Georgie soothed, a little shaken by your inability to focus.
âI canât- I donât know why it hurts so much more this time.â You brushed a hand across your slightly deflated belly before balling it into a fist and jamming it into the small of your back. âHelp me,â you whimpered, too tired to help yourself.
âLetâs try a different position,â I suggested, rubbing my thumb across your knuckles in sympathy.
You nodded, but the next contraction was already starting. âMm, hurry,â you warned as the three of us not currently pushing out a baby hurriedly flipped you over so that you were on all fours. Your arms were shaking, so no sooner had you got into position, you dropped to your elbows, burying your face into a pillow as your ass stuck up in the air. You felt someoneâs hands â unmistakably female - on your thighs, traveling up to spread apart your folds.
âSheâs right there,â Stella said. âI can still see her little bum sitting right inside you like this.â
âWant to try giving a little push for us?â I asked, close to your ear.
You gave a little grunt of acknowledgement, hunching up and bearing down as best you could. The burning instantly returned and you hissed, tensing your legs and clenching the pillow in a death grip.
Georgie tsk-ed. âFocus that energy, mama.â She cupped her hand over your bulging sex. âRight here now.â
You released a shaky breath, pulled in a fresh gulp of air, pressed back into her palm, and pushed.
âThere you go, just like that,â she praised, tracing her fingers around my tight hole.
You rocked back and forth with each push, as if the added momentum would get her out faster. But over the course of several more contractions, you could never get her out past a modest crown.
âI think I need to stand,â you finally huffed after the last push had you seeing stars. It was hard to breathe in this position and your legs were starting to go numb.
Georgie wasted no time in dropping a towel on the floor while Stella and I helped you slide your legs to the ground. You planted your feet wide and pressed your hands into the mattress, belly and tits pulled low by gravity and half a newborn butt bulging out of your vagina. âI must look so hot right now,â you joked, once again leaning forward so that you were on your elbows.
âHonestly?â Georgie said, giving my pose a once over.
âIncredibly hot,â I finished for her, giving your ass a playful bite as I made my way to my knees between your legs.
Another contraction wound its way through your belly and around your back, and you gritted your teeth to keep from crying out.
âPush, mama,â I said, sensing your hesitation.
âHooooo,â you breathed out with the push, bending at the knees as the pressure barreled down between your hips. âHnghhhhahh!â You wailed as the stinging burn intensified. âOh fuck, oh fuck,â you muttered over and over as the pain not only remained, but continued to get worse. âItâs burning, why is it still burning!â
âIâm sorry, love,â Stella rubbed your back as you sobbed at the end of a contraction. âWhen theyâre head first, you get the crowning over with and youâre basically done. But with her hips coming first, youâre gonna feel that ring of fire with her whole body, yeah?â
You sniffled, nodded. âAnd⌠how much of her is out now?â
âAbout this muchâ it was Georgie, holder her fingers an inch or so apart, but she was stood out of your line of site so you couldnât tell.
âNumbers⌠or get your ass over here and show me.â The incessant pain was starting to grind on you. You blew out a calming breath. Had to keep on keeping calm, letting it get to you was a sure fire way of making things worse.
Georgie went red with embarrassment, so focused on watching the action unfold that she forgot that you couldnât likely bend round to see her.
âSorry babe! Silly of me. You have about 3 inches poking out of you, and each push gets us a bit more. We can see babyâs thighs and sheâs kind of folded in half so youâre pushing out belly and thighs right now. And oh god it looks so strange compared to the head. But youâre doing great⌠letâs just hope our little miss doesnât have thunder thighs.â
I let out the snort of a laugh before I caught it, not wanting to dishearten you, but you certainly noticed.
âIâll have you knowâŚâ you stopped for a grunt and pushed for a few moments interrupting your flow. You roared out and grasped hold of things, the effort you were putting in was massive at this point - no doubt exhausting as well. You were left panting as the contraction ended.
âWomen in my family have very sexy, sleek thighs. If thatâs the case, itâs from his DNAâ
Your hand shook as you reached between your own legs, feeling the unfamiliar protrusion distorting the skin there. You tried to pull gently at the stretched outline, but whimpered and flinched as it became too much.
âJust let it stretch,â Georgie coached, taking back over the job of supporting the emerging butt.
You threw your hips back into a deeper squat with the next contraction, so much so that Georgie had to scramble back to get out of your way. A guttural moan escaped you as you curled around your belly, bearing down in equal parts instinct and desperation.
It was like all the air being forced to one side of a balloon animal, all that pressure building up behind and pressing out with nowhere to release. Every part of you ached, exhausted, in some kind of pain or another â or multiple kinds simultaneously.
âI have to- get her out!â you yelled, coming off a push that held everything you thought you had left. âWhy isnât she coming out?â
âYouâve just to get her past her hips. The rest will come easier after that,â Georgie explained cheerfully.
You frowned at her even though she couldnât see you. âAnd the second baby was supposed to come easier after giving birth the first time,â you grumbled.
âMy thighs,â I said, which threw you off enough to turn to look at me. I was smiling, somewhat sympathetically. âSheâs definitely got my familyâs thighs.â You let out something between a laugh and a sob and I pushed your hair back to kiss you on the temple. âYou want to try a full squat?â
You had no idea if that would help â at this point, youâd hope for nothing but try anything â but Stella and I were already turning you around to face outward.
âHey, beautiful,â Georgie said, giving you a little peck on the lips since she was finally able to see your face. âHave I told you how amazingly sexy you are like this?â she waggled her eyebrows.
âLetâs see how sexy you feel when itâs you here in a few months.â Her eyes widened, but more out of excitement than anything else. Weâd see just how long that would last. âOoh, another. Another!â you shouted, just as I settled in behind you on the bed to hold you up.
You pressed back against my chest between my legs and hooked your arms over my thighs to keep you upright as your ass dropped toward the floor. You squeezed and pressed forward, opening your knees out wide and tilting your hips up. Stella held up a large mirror so that we could see the progress as you pushed.
âOoooh sheâs so big, sheâs not going to fit!â you cried, as each push only drew you wider.
âYes, yes she is, look!â I said excitedly, pointing toward the mirror.
She was now out to the equivalent of her brotherâs whole head, and the pain of crowning was still just as all-consuming as when it had begun. âOh god, it hurts. Oh fuck, sheâs got your torso too!â you wailed as you continued to push for what seemed like forever.
âBreathe! Breathe, mama, itâs okay,â Stella soothed as your desperation caused you to keep pushing even when there was no contraction. âSheâs close. Sheâs so close.â
You looked in the mirror. Almost all of our daughterâs body had been born, but her legs were still folded, tucked up inside and keeping you stretched to the fullest.
âNext one,â I promised. âNext contraction youâll have her out.â
You were devolving into whimpers, the constant burn-aching between your legs becoming too much to bear. âIâm going for itâ you grunted⌠âthis better be the last one, or Iâm never letting you near me again!â
Neither one of us tried to correct you or make any sort of sarcastic quip.
As your eyes scrunched down and you started to moan loudly we actually saw the baby slide forward - Georgieâs hands supporting the majority of the baby until you let out a wail, soon followed by an exclamation of âfinally!â
The babyâs legs had finally came out and boy they were long. Once the feet were born they sprung back into place flopping over Georgieâs wrists who had to adjust her hold because of the shift in balance but you had done it. Myself and Stella congratulated you, kissing and cuddling you, as Georgie shouted on, otherwise too preoccupied to give you any physical contact.
You were elated. You knew you had to still push out the head, but for now you could rest. Get your breath. Relax.
It was short lived though as your body decided it wanted the head out - now. The next contraction only gave you 30 seconds of respite before you wailed âno⌠too soonâ and closed your eyes again, the next push upon you.
âIt was supposed to be quick. This part was supposed to be quick!â you lamented when the next contraction didnât bring the head out. Youâd given two strong, solid pushes, but apparently either your strength was too small or her head was too big.
âItâs okay, youâve got time,â Stella said from between your legs, having moved to help Georgie support both you and the baby from this awkward angle.
âTime. So much time. Iâm tired,â you whined, draping dramatically in my arms and making me chuckle. âCanât you just pull her out?â Your knees, hips, feet and⌠everything ached and you were only partially kidding.
âWeâll do everything we can, but you still gotta push, mama,â Georgie said.
You werenât ready for the intense burning to return, but your body didnât care â it wanted her OUT. The next contraction came swiftly and with a vengeance, squeezing and bearing down hard before you had a chance to catch your breath.
âPush, push!â we all encouraged you, chanting in unison.
And you did, if somewhat weakly. It was strange to feel so empty and yet so full at the same time. There was nothing left in your womb / stomach area besides organs and extra fluids, but your hips and vagina burned as they held tightly to the head of our daughter.
You could feel her trying to release. Stretching and receding, stretching and receding. Her little chin emerged and you gasped as the reverse crown pried you open wide once more.
âThatâs it, now youâve got her. Big pushes now,â Georgie said excitedly.
You shifted, pushing yourself on my thighs a tiny bit so that you could drop back down, adding gravity to the weight of your pushes.
âYouâve got the nose now,â Stella narrated as we watched the painstakingly slow emergence in the mirror.
You blew out a breath, nodded, and gave one more primal yell, throwing your head back into my chest bearing down with everything you had left. The white-hot searing pain peaked, then left as quickly as it had come as the rest of the head finally slipped out, a small gush of bloody fluid following it. Finally the ordeal was over. We gathered the full family together, and shared a bond that only our family dynamic could really have.
As Iâve alluded in my previous blogs, a couple months before I was due, the couple Iâm surrogating suddenly suggested that we all went to the cabin by the lake that they owned for the birth of their twins and we agreed, as long as the expenses were covered by them. Mel had used her willpower to make sure that Iâd go way overdue with the twins. So I ended up going to 42 weeks! The babies were so low and heavy that Iâm pretty sure both of them are at least 10lbs so itâs gonna be a wild ride to push them out both naturally.
We called upon our babysitter to stay for the week at our place to take care of the kids, while we departed for the cabin and stayed there until the birth. The first couple of days were mostly just letting ourselves off and enjoying the last days of my pregnancy. It was great being pretty much pampered by Mel and the surrogate couples. The belly rubs and kisses were great; I felt like I was treated like a goddess for the first couple of days. My body was effectively theirs for the week, as Iâll follow whatever they want.
On the 3rd day, I started having mild contractions and right around lunch, they started getting intense. âUgh⌠it hurts so goodâŚ. Nghh⌠OH!â I said as the contractions hit, followed by the water breaking, a torrent burst out of me to the wooden chair and the cabinâs floor.
âOh! Finally, Itâs go time!â The husband said, pausing the meal before cleaning up the mess and then helped with the preparations. He and Mel are doing the recording duty, after all. After the water broke, I continued laboring wearing my t-shirt that barely covered my huge belly and panties, while the couples prepared for me to deliver in the lake.Â
Soon enough, we went outside to the lake, with donning light colored swim bras and swim shorts that the couples had prepared for us. âYou looked stunning! I can already imagine how the birth will turn out.â Mel said, with the surrogate couple nodding along. We took pictures together before I slowly descended into the cold and peaceful lake, submerging my lower body into the lake. The surrogate wife went into the lake before putting herself behind me. âThatâs it. Jessie⌠youâre doing good.â She whispered to me, while I leaned back on her for support. Then the surrogate husband and Mel went right in, using his waterproof camera to get the underwater shots, while Mel recorded the above the surface shots.Â
I was laboring in the lake, trying a couple of birth positions before settling to the on all fours position, my neck and shoulders above the waters. The surrogate couple was behind me, supporting me as they kept rubbing my belly and felt each contraction hit. Soon enough... âI can feel it⌠theyâre comingâŚâ I groaned and started pushing. "That's it, Jessie... push!" The wife said. I can feel the head descended the canal and the baby was definitely huge! My canal was opened like never before, taking me almost 30 minutes just to get the head to land on the opening. âHooo⌠hooo⌠finally... itâs right thereâŚâ I said. The husband poked the shorts and can confirm the presence of the babyâs head. âI can feel the head. Push on the next contraction.â He said. âYouâre doing good, Jess!â Mel added.
I nodded and bear down, pushing hard and feeling the head starting to crown a bit, my shorts was starting to bulge out before the contractionâs gone and the head receded back in. âThatâs okay. Just gotta push a lotâŚâ The husband said. I looked back and saw Mel grinning with excitement, and I knew this was gonna take a long while. "I know... ugh it hurts so good... hooo... oughh here comes another one..." I said before pushing again, feeling the head crowned into the swimshorts once more, before I felt the hands rubbing my crotch and feeling the bump between my legs.
I kept pushing with each contraction, feeling the head slowly crown further and further. âCome on babyâŚâ I said before pushing again, the head finally no longer receding. The shorts felt like it bulging nicely now, and the couples cupped the bulging head in between contractions. âGod, that's so hot.â The wife said. âHehe⌠I know⌠what a view right?â I said, smiling through the throbbing pain⌠before they pressed the head back in again. âOh⌠itâs coming back inâŚâ He said. I felt the head pressed back in and can only grit my teeth and breath through it. "Ugh... no don't come back in." I moaned as the head fully went back inside and I have to push them again.
After almost 2 hours of the dance of me pushing and the couple holding and pushing the head back in, the head finally reached fully crowning, my shorts were getting tighter. âOhhh⌠so bigâŚâ I groaned as I gave another push, with the couple slowly holding the head so that the head would come out slowly. After a couple more pushes, I finally got the head fully out, making a huge bulge in my shorts.
âThatâs it! The headâs out! I thinkâŚâ The husband said. âYeah⌠itâs definitely out.â The wife said as she probed the bulge. I reached down and felt the head and it was glorious to feel. I wish I could see it right there and then⌠but the footage will have to do.
I kept pushing but the shoulders weren't budging. âShould we take them off?â The husband asked. âNo need. Jess can do it, right?â Mel asked me. âYeah⌠I can... just need a bit of timeâŚâ I said, heaving and pushing once more, but the shoulderâs not budging. âI think I need to stand up.â I said, asking help to get me up. The wife stood next to me and walked me out of the waters, while Mel was in front of me, and the husband was behind me. Another contraction hits and I squat down to push, finally feeling a bit of movement⌠âNghh⌠come on⌠almost there⌠Oohhh⌠just a couple more pushesâŚâ I said, trying to assure myself.
We stepped off the lake before I pushed standing up, spreading my legs wide and grunting, the surrogate wife kneeling in front of me and I leaned on her for support. âNgh⌠Come on!â I groaned and pushed with all my might and then felt the shoulders budging and then the baby came out bagging my swimshorts. âItâs out!â Mel said, watching the baby come out. The couple quickly pulled down my swim shorts and pulled the baby out. âItâs a girl!â The wife declared. I held the baby in my arms, while Mel did her job of cutting the cord. âThere we goâŚâ She said as she cut the cord around the opening and around the babyâs belly button.
âHere⌠the baby girl.â I said before passing the baby to the wife. âI got it⌠oh sheâs heavy⌠feels like 11lbs, maybe more!â She said, slightly taken aback by the weight, so she passed the baby to her husband.
We quickly took off my swimsuit, dried myself and then put on my t-shirt and maternity panties and then walked back to the cabin. Only a couple steps in, I leaned on a nearby tree and felt the urge to push again. The second babyâs head began its descent down the canal, the head is as big as the first one. âOhhh⌠the second oneâs comingâŚâ I said, leaning on the tree and pushing in front of Mel and the couple.Â
Soon, the head began to crown into my panties, shown by the garment slightly bulging. âThatâs the head alright.â Mel said, her hands reaching out to the bulge. I nodded and waddled, supported by the wife n between contractions, stopping to push when the contraction hit.
By the time we reached the cabin, the head was almost fully crowning and the panties were pretty stretched. I was crabwalking due to how big the head was. We got into the cabin and then Mel proceeded to get me down on my back while the couples were in front of me. I spread my legs wide and pushed⌠but the couples cupped and held the baby in. âCan you be like this⌠for a couple more minutes?â She asked. I canât help but nod, heaving and then feeling the head receding back in. âYou're enjoying this too much." I said, laughing a bit. âI do! Never in my lifetime woul we be able to do something like this... You look so hot right now.â She says. âWell⌠if you want⌠you can⌠have me as a surrogate again in the futureâŚâ I said to the couple. âWeâll keep that in mind.â She said.
The next contraction, I pushed hard, getting the head back to crowning, the head tenting my panties. I kept on pushing until the head got back to fully crowning. âNot yet⌠I wanna keep it like this for a bit longerâŚâ She said to me. I simply nodded and heaved through the contractions⌠before the couple finally allowed me to get the head out⌠âHooo⌠Come on⌠NGHHH!!â I grunted hard and got the head out, the head fully covered by the panties. I reached down and felt the bulge and laughed at how huge the head is⌠âJust the shoulders leftâŚâ I said⌠âYouâre doing good. Push now!â He said.
I grunted and pushed but the shoulders weren't budging. âShould I stand up again?â I asked, thinking the gravity would help. âNo⌠I wanted to see you deliver like this....â The wife said to me, âOkay⌠come onâŚâ I slowly nodded and when the next contraction hit, I pushed again, the shoulders moving slightly. âThe shouldersâ budgingâŚâ I said. âCome on⌠one moreâŚâ I said, taking deep breaths and pushed again, the shoulders finally coming out, and then the baby slid out right into my panties, bagging them. The couple took off the panties and pulled the baby out. âItâs another girl! We have twin girls!â The wife said. I turned back around to see the newborn baby in the wifeâs arms before Mel cut the cord.
They passed the baby to me so I can nurse them while Mel and the couple watched the babies. The babies were hungry, since I can feel them drinking a lot of my breast milk. We cleaned up the placenta and the mess before we finally looked back at the footage, and it was glorious. It took me more than 3 hours to deliver the first baby, and then 2 hours to deliver the second one. From labor to finish, it took 8 hours!
The babies themselves are heavy, both measuring well above the 12lbs range. The couple finalized their payment and gave me additional bonuses before we left the cabin a couple days later, the couple bringing home their babies and me coming back home with Mel.
Description: On a summerâs evening, Lillian and Alfie unexpectedly deliver their daughter by theirselves in their homely cottage due to a previous storm causing them to become isolated.
Words: 3825
Tags: fluff, romance, cottagecore, fpreg, birth, home-birth, domestic fluff, freebirth? (The tags are on ao3 anyways :p)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
The evening had settled into that comfortable, golden hued lull of a late spring night. Through the open windows of their cozy, book lined living room, the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming jasmine drifted in on a warm breeze. The remnants of dinner, a lovely lemon herb chicken with roasted vegetables, sat on the coffee table, pushed aside to make room for glasses of wine and a half empty bottle of sparkling water.
Kai, draped in a light linen shirt despite the warmth, was curled on one end of the sofa, their socked feet tucked under their partner, Andrew. Andrew, solid and serene with his graying temples and gentle hands, had one hand resting on their shin, his thumb tracing absent, soothing circles. Across from them, their friend Mira, a woman with kind eyes and the calm, grounded presence of someone who had guided countless souls into the world, swirled the last of her rosĂŠ.
"I swear, Andrew, if I have to eat one more kale salad with lemon juice and no dressing, I'm going to scream," Kai grumbled, shifting their weight for the hundredth time that evening. "The scale hasn't budged. I've cut out everything. I'm doing yoga, I'm walking, I'm drinking enough water to flood the basement. My body is actively rebelling against me."
Andrew squeezed their shin. "You look beautiful, Kai. You always do. You glow."
"That's because you're sweet and you desperately need your eyes checked," they retorted, but a small, involuntary smile tugged at their lips. They loved his unwavering, ridiculous devotion. He'd been with them through every diet, every doctor's appointment where they'd been dismissed, every tear of frustration. He never wavered.
Mira chuckled, tucking a strand of silver streaked dark hair behind her ear. "It's probably just that mid life shift, Kai. Perimenopause is a beast. Metabolism changes, hormones go haywire."
"Ugh, don't say the H word," Kai groaned, pressing a hand to their lower back, which had been aching for weeks. "This ache is unreal. And I'm so tired, all the time. I fell asleep on the bathroom floor waiting for the shower to warm up yesterday. And my heartburn? I could power a small city with the acid in my throat. I'm pretty sure this is just what my body does now. A hostile takeover. Menopause, plain and simple."
"Well, the bloating is real," they continued, gesturing at the gentle but unmistakable curve of their midsection beneath the loose linen shirt. "I look five months pregnant, not forty three and perpetually starving myself. Dr. Ellis said it's just my age and metabolism slowing down and to keep exercising. Keep exercising! I've dropped a stone and I still look like this."
They shifted again, a flicker of discomfort crossing their face, their hand pressing more firmly against their belly.
"Maybe you are pregnant," Mira joked lightly, a common refrain between them over the years. "Wouldn't that be the ultimate plot twist? Surprise, you're not aging, you're gestating!"
Kai snorted, a sound that turned into a sharp intake of breath. A low, deep cramp rolled through their abdomen, starting in their lower back and curling around to their belly like a tight fist. It wasn't like the mild twinges they'd been dismissing for days. This was something else entirely. Something primal and profound and impossible to ignore. They gripped the edge of the sofa cushion, their breath catching, their body going rigid.
Andrew sat up instantly, his face full of concern, his hand moving to their knee. "Hey, hey, you okay? Another cramp?"
Kai couldn't answer. They just shook their head, eyes squeezed shut, waiting for it to pass. The sensation was overwhelming, a pressure, a tightening, a deep internal pull that stole their breath. It lasted maybe forty five seconds, but it felt like an epoch. When it finally subsided, they let out a shaky, trembling exhale and slumped back against the cushions. "That was weird. Really weird."
Mira, who had gone very still, watched Kai with a new, sharp focus. Her doula's instincts, honed over fifteen years, were screaming. She noted the way Kai was holding their belly, not their stomach, but their lower abdomen, both hands cradling it protectively. The pale sheen of sweat on their upper lip. The way they were breathing, that unconscious sigh of relief as the wave receded.
"Kai," she said, her voice dropping into a lower, professional register, all traces of levity gone. "I need you to describe that. Exactly. Where it started, what it felt like, how long it lasted."
Kai looked at her, surprised by the intensity in her tone. "Just a bad cramp. Like, a really bad period cramp, but deeper, more squeeze y. And it definitely started in my back first, then wrapped around."
"And you've been having these?" Mira asked, setting her wine glass down firmly on the table, uneaten.
"A few. On and off for a couple of days, actually. I thought it was just my guts being angry about the diet, or maybe that I was getting my period, finally, after months of nothing. But then nothing happened, so I don't know." Kai shrugged, looking a little sheepish. "It's probably just more perimenopause fun."
Mira's mind was racing, cataloging signs. The weight gain centralized in the belly despite dieting and weight loss elsewhere. The fatigue. The heartburn. The backache. The absence of a period. And now, regular, intensifying cramps. It was impossible. It was statistically improbable. They were forty three, had been told years ago that pregnancy was highly unlikely due to age and other factors, had made peace with a child free life. And yet, her gut, honed by thousands of hours in the birth world, was screaming at her.
"Kai," she said, very calmly and quietly, leaning forward. "I need you to be really honest with me. When was your last period? Not the last time you spotted, but a real period?"
Kai frowned, thinking. "Months ago. Five? Six? I don't know. I mentioned it to Dr. Ellis, and she said it was normal for my age, that cycles get irregular before stopping completely."
Mira nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving Kai's face. "Okay. And when you press on your belly, right now, does it feel firm? Like there's something solid in there?"
Kai's frown deepened, but they pressed their hands against their lower belly. Their eyes widened slightly. "It's yeah. It's hard. Like, really hard. Is that a tumor? Oh god, Andrew, do I have a tumor?"
Andrew's face had gone pale, his hand tightening on Kai's knee. "Mira, what are you thinking?"
Mira took a deep breath. She had to be careful. This could be catastrophic news, or it could be the most shocking revelation of their lives. "I'm thinking I need you to let me feel your belly, Kai. Is that okay?"
Kai nodded, confused and now genuinely scared. Mira moved from her chair to kneel in front of the sofa. Her hands were warm and firm as she gently pressed against Kai's abdomen, feeling the contours, the firmness, the shape. Her experienced fingers moved methodically, and then she paused, her breath catching. High up, near Kai's ribs, she felt it, a small, hard, round shape. And then, beneath her hands, the whole belly seemed to shift and tighten, and Kai gasped, grabbing the sofa cushion again as another wave of pressure rolled through them.
Mira sat back on her heels, her face a mask of carefully controlled calm, but her heart was pounding. She'd felt a fetal back. She'd felt a contraction. There was no mistaking it.
"Kai. Andrew." Her voice was steady, but her eyes were wide. "I need you to listen to me very carefully. I'm not a doctor, I can't do an ultrasound, but I've been at hundreds of births. I know what a contracting uterus feels like. I know what a baby feels like under my hands."
Kai stared at her, their face a blank canvas of confusion and dawning terror. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying," Mira said gently, "that I think you're in labor. I think you're having contractions. And I think I think you're pregnant."
The silence that followed was deafening. The distant sound of a lawnmower from down the street seemed impossibly loud. Andrew's face went from pale to ashen. Kai stared at Mira, then down at their own belly, then back at Mira, their mouth opening and closing soundlessly.
"That's not funny, Mira," Kai whispered. "That's not even a little bit funny."
"I'm not joking. I would never joke about this." Mira reached out and took Kai's hand. "I know it sounds insane. I know it's the last thing you expected. But your symptoms, your body, what I just felt, it all points to one thing. And those cramps you're having? They're getting stronger, closer together. That's labor."
Andrew found his voice, rough and strained. "But but she said. The doctor said it was menopause. She said."
"I know what she said. Doctors can be wrong. Especially when they don't listen." Mira squeezed Kai's hand. "Right now, that doesn't matter. What matters is that you're having a baby. Maybe soon. We need to figure out what you want to do."
Kai's breath was coming in short, panicked gasps. Their free hand flew to their belly, pressing, prodding, as if trying to find the switch that would turn this nightmare, this impossibility, off. "No. No, no, no. This isn't happening. I can't be. I'm forty three. I'm on a diet. I don't have a nursery. I don't have a car seat. I don't have anything. I don't have a baby. I have perimenopause. Dr. Ellis said."
"Fuck Dr. Ellis," Mira said firmly, her voice cutting through Kai's spiral. "Dr. Ellis isn't here. I am. And right now, you are in labor. Your body is doing something incredible, whether you were ready for it or not. And you have two people here who love you and are going to help you through this. Okay? Okay, Kai?"
Kai looked at her, tears spilling down their cheeks, and then at Andrew, whose own eyes were wet, his hand now gripping theirs tightly. Another contraction began to build, and this time there was no denying its purpose. It was stronger, longer, a relentless wave of pressure that made them cry out, doubling over, clutching Andrew's hand so hard their knuckles went white.
Andrew was there immediately, his arms around them, his voice a shaky murmur against their hair. "I'm here. I'm right here. We're going to get through this. Whatever happens, I'm here."
When the contraction finally released them, Kai was sobbing, great heaving sobs of terror and confusion and overwhelming sensation. "I can't do this, Andrew. I can't. I don't know how. I didn't even know I was pregnant. How can I have a baby when I didn't even know I was pregnant?"
Mira, already shifting into full professional mode, was pulling out her phone, checking the time. "How long was that one? About a minute. And the last one was maybe seven, eight minutes ago? Kai, we need to make some decisions. We can call an ambulance, go to the hospital. Or, if you want, we can stay here. I can support you. I have my kit in the car, I was at a birth last night. But you have to decide."
Kai looked around their living room, this space that held years of their life with Andrew. The books they'd read together, the records they'd played, the quiet evenings. And now this. This impossible, terrifying, miraculous thing.
"Here," they whispered, the word escaping before they could think. "I want to stay here. I don't want to go to a hospital where they'll tell me I'm crazy and old and shouldn't be doing this. I want to stay here."
Andrew nodded, pressing a kiss to their temple. "Then we stay. We stay right here. I'm not going anywhere."
Mira was already moving, her voice calm and authoritative. "Okay. Andrew, I need you to get towels, as many as you can find. Clean sheets. Pillows. And then fill the birth pool. There's a hose in the backyard, attach it to the kitchen faucet. We'll need warm water. Kai, I need you to move. Walk with me. Let's see what your body wants to do."
What followed was the longest, strangest, most surreal night of their lives.
Kai moved through the house like a restless spirit, unable to find comfort, unable to believe what was happening. They walked from room to room, pausing at windows, touching familiar objects as if seeing them for the first time. Andrew followed like a shadow, always there, always ready with a steadying hand or a murmured word of love. Between contractions, which came every five to seven minutes, Kai would collapse onto a chair or against Andrew, exhausted and bewildered.
"I don't understand," they kept saying, over and over. "I don't understand how this happened."
"Doesn't matter how," Mira would reply gently. "It's happening. Your body knows what to do. You just have to let it."
The contractions grew stronger as the night deepened. Kai found themselves on their hands and knees on the living room rug, rocking back and forth, making low, guttural sounds that seemed to come from somewhere primal and ancient. Andrew knelt beside them, his hand a warm pressure on their lower back, murmuring encouragements.
"You're doing so well, love. You're so strong. I'm so proud of you."
"Shut up," Kai gasped between contractions, but they leaned into his touch, seeking his warmth. "This is your fault. You did this to me."
"I know," he said, and there was a tremor of a laugh in his voice, choked with emotion. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. And I love you."
As dawn broke, painting the sky in soft pinks and golds, the intensity escalated. Kai tried every position Mira suggested. Squatting, hanging onto Andrew's neck, their belly suddenly unmistakably a pregnant belly pressing against him, finding relief in the counterpressure. Standing, swaying, leaning against the wall. Sitting on the birth ball, rolling their hips through each wave. Kneeling, bent over the seat of the armchair. Nothing brought real comfort, only momentary respite. The contractions were relentless now, two to three minutes apart, and Kai was deep in the cave of labor, their consciousness narrowed to nothing but the wave and the recovery, the wave and the recovery.
"The baby's moving down," Mira observed, her voice calm. "I can see it in your body, Kai. You're opening. You're doing exactly what you need to do."
Kai couldn't respond. They were in the grip of another contraction, on their hands and knees again, their forehead pressed to the cool floor, moaning. Andrew was behind them, his hands on their hips, his presence the only anchor in a storm that threatened to sweep them away.
When the contraction released them, Kai collapsed, sobbing. "I can't. I can't do this anymore. It's too hard. I didn't sign up for this. I didn't know."
Andrew gathered them into his arms, lifting them slightly, cradling them against his chest. "I know, baby. I know. But you are doing it. You're doing it right now. And I'm right here. I'm not leaving."
Mira checked the time. "Kai, I think you're getting close. That last one looked different, your body was pushing, just a little. If you feel like you need to bear down, you follow that feeling. Don't fight it."
The next contraction brought an overwhelming, undeniable urge. Kai's body took over, bearing down with a force that shocked them, a guttural roar tearing from their throat. They were on their knees, leaning back against Andrew, who supported them from behind, his arms wrapped around their chest, his cheek pressed to theirs.
"That's it," Mira coached, kneeling in front of them. "That's it, Kai. Follow your body. Let it happen. Your baby is coming."
The pushing phase stretched on, an endless, brutal marathon. Kai lost all sense of time, of self. They were just a vessel, a channel, a force of nature. Andrew held them through every surge, his strength the only thing keeping them upright, his voice a constant, loving presence in their ear. "I love you. You're amazing. You're doing it. Our baby is coming."
Finally, after what felt like hours, Mira's voice changed, lifting with excitement. "Kai, I can see the head. It's right there. Reach down, touch your baby's head."
Kai, trembling, exhausted, reached between their legs and felt it, a warm, wet, wrinkled curve of skull, impossibly small and impossibly real. A sob broke from them, part exhaustion, part wonder, part terror.
The next push brought the head. The one after that, with a slippery, rushing release, brought the rest of the body into Mira's waiting hands. Kai collapsed backward against Andrew as a thin, reedy cry filled the room, the most beautiful and shocking sound they'd ever heard.
Mira lifted the baby, slippery and perfect, onto Kai's chest. "A boy," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "You have a son."
Kai stared down at this tiny, squirming creature, this impossible being who had been growing inside them without their knowledge, and their world tilted on its axis. Andrew's arms tightened around them both, his face buried in Kai's hair, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
"We have a son," he whispered. "Kai, we have a son."
Kai couldn't speak. They could only look, and touch, and marvel at the tiny fingers that curled around theirs, the dark eyes that blinked up at them, the perfect, unbelievable reality of this moment.
But Mira wasn't finished. She was watching Kai's belly, her expression shifting from joy to focused attention. The placenta hadn't come yet, but that wasn't what concerned her. She was watching the shape of Kai's uterus, the way it remained firm and rounded despite the baby being born.
"Kai," she said, her voice carefully controlled. "I need you to listen to me. The baby's here, he's perfect, but I don't think you're done."
Kai looked up, confusion clouding their exhausted face. "What? The placenta? I can push."
"No. I don't think it's the placenta." Mira's hand pressed gently on Kai's belly, and as she did, another contraction rolled through Kai's body, strong, unmistakable, purposeful. "I think there's another baby."
The silence was absolute. Even the newborn on Kai's chest seemed to hold his breath.
"What?" Kai whispered. "No. No, that's not possible. There can't be another. There's only one. There's only."
Another contraction, harder than the last, cut off their words. Their body was already gearing up again, already preparing for another birth. Andrew looked at Mira, his face a mask of shock and fear.
"A twin? There's a twin?"
Mira nodded, already shifting into high gear. "Kai, I need you to move. We need to get you into the water. It'll help with the pain, help you relax for this next one. Andrew, help me."
Getting Kai into the birth pool in their bedroom was an ordeal. The baby, wrapped in a towel and still attached by the umbilical cord, was placed in Andrew's arms while Mira and a shaking Kai navigated the few steps to the water. The warmth enveloped Kai as they sank into the pool, leaning against the side, and immediately the next contraction seemed more manageable, the water supporting their exhausted body.
Andrew knelt beside the pool, their son cradled against his chest, his free hand gripping Kai's. "I'm here. I'm right here. You can do this. You already did it once."
"I didn't know I was doing it," Kai gasped, another contraction building. "I didn't know any of this."
"I know. But you did it. And you'll do it again. And then we'll have two babies, and we'll figure it out together."
The second labor was different from the first. Kai's body knew what to do now, even if their mind was reeling. The contractions were intense, the urge to push overwhelming, but the water provided a cushion, a softness that the hard floor hadn't offered. They tried different positions, kneeling, squatting, floating on their back with Andrew supporting their head, before finding relief on their hands and knees in the water, the buoyancy lifting some of the weight from their aching body.
Mira was a steady presence, her voice calm and directing. "That's it, Kai. Let your body open. Don't fight it. This baby wants to meet you too."
The pushing phase for the second twin was, impossibly, even longer than the first. Kai's reserves were depleted, their body screaming for rest, but there was no rest to be had. Each contraction demanded everything they had. Andrew held their hand, wiped their face with a cool cloth, whispered words of love and encouragement that sometimes turned into gentle commands when Mira directed him to reposition them.
"You're doing so well, love. Just a little more. Our babies are so lucky to have you."
"Lucky?" Kai snarled during one particularly brutal contraction. "Lucky? I didn't even know they existed until six hours ago. I'm not lucky, I'm in shock."
But when the contraction released, they clung to him, sobbing. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so scared. Don't leave me."
"I'm not going anywhere," he promised, pressing his forehead to theirs. "Ever."
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Mira's voice lifted again. "The head, Kai. The head is right there. One more good push."
Kai gathered every last ounce of strength, bore down with a scream that seemed to tear from the very depths of their soul, and felt the rush of release as the second baby slid into the water and into Mira's waiting hands.
This time, the cry was immediate and strong. Mira lifted the baby, another boy, perfect and slippery, and placed him directly into Kai's arms. Kai collapsed back against the side of the pool, the warm water lapping at their shoulders, two tiny, squirming babies against their chest, and for a long moment, no one spoke.
Andrew was crying openly, tears streaming down his face as he leaned over the edge of the pool, one hand on Kai's shoulder, the other reaching out to touch the head of the new baby. "Two," he whispered. "We have two. Two babies."
Mira, her own eyes wet, was quietly attending to the practical matters, making sure both babies were breathing well, that Kai wasn't hemorrhaging, that the cords were clamped and cut. "They're beautiful, Kai. Both of them. You did something incredible."
Kai looked down at the two small faces, so similar, so new, so utterly dependent on them. Their body ached in ways they'd never imagined. Their mind was still reeling from the impossibility of it all. But in this moment, in the warm water, with Andrew's hand on their shoulder and their babies in their arms, something shifted.
"I didn't know," they said again, but this time it wasn't a cry of despair. It was a statement of wonder. "I didn't know any of this was possible. I didn't know my body could do this. I didn't know we could have this."
Andrew leaned down and kissed them, soft and lingering, his lips salty with tears. "I love you. I love all three of you. Four of us. We're a family."
Kai laughed, a broken, exhausted, joyful sound that made the babies stir. "Four. How are we going to do four? We don't even have a crib."
"We'll figure it out," Andrew said, and his voice held the same unwavering certainty it always did. "We'll figure it out together."
As the sun rose fully over the backyard, painting the bedroom in warm golds and pinks, Kai sat in the birth pool with their unexpected family, and for the first time since this impossible journey began, they started to believe that maybe, just maybe, they would be okay.
I sat in bed rubbing my stomach, the cramps ripping through me.
"Daddy.." I whispered as I shook his arm trying to gently wake him.
Contractions had been running through my stomach for the last 3 hours but recently they were lasting longer and happening quicker.
He groaned and shook off my hand, lifting his head from his pillow just a little.
"Baby girl it's late, go back to sleep." He mumbled, sleep making his voice thick and deep, the sound made me rub my thighs together.
"No Daddy. I can't." I whispered.
"I will spank you if you don't go back to sleep." He warned, "And I won't play nice and let you cum after it either." He lay his head back down on his pillow. I whined softly at his threat
"My stomach hurts." As soon as I said this his breath hitched and he shot up into a sitting position.
"Are you ok? Lay back sweetie and let me feel what's going on, how long have you felt the pains? Did your water break?." He pushed me back slowly and pulled my shorts and pants down as he threw 100 questions at me.
"Daddy," I whined "the pain started a few hours ago, I've been trying to nap in between them. And no, I think I'm just a little wet from thinking about what's to come..." I quietly admitted to him, looking anywhere but at him.
I let out a little groan as I felt the baby shifting around in my stomach as my arousal grew.
Daddy smirked at my answers, he dipped 2 fingers inside me and smirked as I moaned out a little.
"Mmm you're doing really good babygirl. About 7cm. He's sitting really low in there." He slowly moved his fingers around in a summoning motion inside me.
"Ahhh~!" He chucked at my reaction and kept his fingers deep inside me.
"You know what I want to do sweetie. I want you to have to beg me to let you push, is that still ok?" He asked as I got closer to my release.
"Yes!" I moaned out and his fingers thrust into me hard making me lose my breath.
"Yes what?" His voice was on the edge of warning, his fingers inside me freezing until I corrected myself.
"Yes Daddy!" I was just on the edge when he pulled away leaving me as a contraction started.
I groaned through it, Daddy placed his large hands on my hips and massaged deeply as I did, the counter pressure feeling absolutely amazing.
"Good girl. You don't push without permission." He pulled my top off once the contraction was done and grabbed my breasts he started sucking on my nipple as he played with the other.
So much pressure was building in my stomach as the baby sitting low was making it lower. Daddy rubbed circles around my clit until I arched my back then he slid his fingers back through my arousal and pushed 2 inside of me.
He sucked on my nipple until I felt milk flow into his mouth, "Daddy-!" I raised my hips, searching for pressure but he pushed me back down, using his thumb to trace around my clit in slow circles.
He used his fingers to press on the sensitive spot inside me, applying pressure as he moved around it. I moaned out and gripped his hair pulling him closer demanding more.
The nipple stimulation felt incredible, but the ache in the pit of my stomach was growing, the pressure building making me whine.
"There's so much pressure." I panted out.
He nodded and raised his head from my breast to look at me, "I can break your water sweet girl, but it will make things move along a lot faster. The pain will be much worse."
"Will you fuck me first Daddy? Please!" I begged like my life depended on cumming in this moment.
Daddy chuckled, the sound made my thighs clench. "Ride me baby." He kissed my neck and sat back on the bed, his back against the headboard.
I moved to straddle his hips but as soon as I lifted my leg to throw it over him gravity worked against me, the baby throwing his head down pushing into my cervix. The sudden pain doubled me over on the bed, but daddy caught me and guided my knee onto the bed the other side of him.
I breathed through the pain, Daddy latched onto my breast and worked on lining up.
I felt the tip press to my opening, his grip on my nipples increasing as I sank onto him.
Daddy groaned against me, encouraging me to take more and more of him. The stretch of him was exactly what I needed.
He gave me a bit of time to get comfortable before his hands on my hips started to rock me slowly.
âThatâs it. Good girl.â He groaned out pushing me down further until I took him fully inside me.
The praise flooded my mind, an intense urge to please him took over me and I started to ride, grinding him deep inside me feeling him nudging my dilating cervix.
âOh Daddy!â I threw my head back as I clenched around him, âIâm gonna cum!â
As I said this I felt his fingers reach my clit and his mouth latch on to my nipple. This was enough to send me over the edge, my grinding slowing down as I rode out the high.
As soon as I came down my hands shot to Daddyâs shoulders as the contraction shot though my stomach.
âArgh!â I hissed and held my breath and shit my eyes, waiting for the pain to cease.
I felt Daddy tap my leg, âYou need to breathe through them. Donât hold your breath.â He rubbed up and down my thighs, soothing me through the pain.
I finally released a breath and panted.
âLetâs change position sweet girl.â Daddy moved to the edge of the bed, pulling out of me to stand up, âBend over the bed, put the pressure on your elbows.â He instructed and I did exactly that.
He lifted my left leg, holding it at hip height, and pushed into me. This was always my favourite before I got pregnant.
The sudden spread of my hips created more pressure.
âDaddy⌠I think I need to push..!â I said breathlessly.
âNo you donât. Not yet.â He warned as he thrust deep inside me at a steady pace.
I groaned and rocked back into him, meeting his thrusts.
âHarder Daddy please!â
A deep groan left him as he dropped my leg and gripped my hips tightly, pulling me back roughly to meet his hard thrusts. His pace picked up as he felt me getting close, his moans pushing me closer.
âGod youâre such a good fucking girl!â He moaned and threw his head back.
His praise pushing me off the edge once again as I came, the feeling spurring him on as his thrusts became irregular, holding himself in me deeply as he came too.
Our panting was the only thing we could hear for the next few minutes until he pulled out of me, my back was screaming from being in this position for so long. He offered me his hand to help me up.
I giggled softly and took it, he pulled me up to standing slowly but a gasp left my mouth when I felt my water pop inside me, he grabbed my arms to keep me steady as my legs shook.
âDeep breaths baby girl, let me check your progress now.â He reached down between my legs and pushed his fingers in. âI can feel the head baby, do you need to push?â
I groaned and nodded as a contraction hit me.
âNot yet. Iâm keeping my fingers in, if I feel you pushing youâll be punished, do you understand?â
I whined and nodded. My body naturally pushing the baby out.
âThe gravity is helping you a lot, letâs keep moving around.â We walked to the bedroom door. âWant to try the stairs?â
Before I could answer a contraction doubled me up, the baby moving of its own free will.
âFuck thatâs so hot, the heads at your opening already baby!â He pulled his fingers out and they were replaced by a burning fullness.
I cried out as me knees shook with the pressure. I gripped the banister at the top of the stairs to keep upright as the next contraction didnât give me any time to recover.
âI need to push so badly please!â I cried feeling the baby love inside me.
âPush the head out baby, nice and slowly.â He cupped his hand around the head, making my progress slow.
I screamed out as I pushed the head out, the pop releasing fluid.
The contractions were on top of each other at this point, but we heard a car alarm from outside. Daddy rubbed my back as he looked out the window.
âDonât push, I need to go and check that.â He walked down the stairs and left me.
âNo..!â My body beared down the babyâs shoulders pushing through. I cupped the head and pushed the little progress made back inside me.
I fell to my knees as I cried out.
âDaddy I canât hold on!â I screamed as he ran back up the stairs. He saw my position and nodded.
âYouâve been a good girl, push baby.â He reached underneath me and held the baby as in one strong push, I birthed our little boy into his hands.
âIâm so proud of you baby.â He kissed my head and held the baby between us, hugging me close.
âDaddy⌠can we do this again?â I looked up at him sweetly.
He groaned and nodded. âAs many times as we can baby.â
SUMMARY: Ava is set on going to a concert she bought tickets for nine months ago. Except that nine months ago, she wasn't heavily pregnant and about to push a baby out any second. Ava is going to a concert she bought tickets for nine months ago, even if it means holding it in.
TAGS: fpreg, birth kink, graphic birth, birth and labor denial, public birth, nsfw, +18 content
A/N: Hello everyone! Hope you had great holidays and a very happy new year to come! Santa has come... Late. But has come! A small gift for you, an story uploaded sometime on August (or July, it's been a long year!) on my Patreon, now free here on Tumblr ;)
I hope you're having a good end to the year, and an even better start. Be safe and happy, and see you next year!
Ava paid, literally, a month's worth of groceries to get the ticket to see Jack Juniper.Â
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, the mass phenomenon of the pop singer decided to launch his most important tour to date. She planned it all carefully: Ava made a virtual wait in line of six hours in the online store, fighting and reloading the page every five minutes to get the bloody tickets for her and her best friend, Jaime.
The occasion deserved a celebration. It wasn't every day that they got to see their favorite artist live âthe voice of a generation, the mastermind behind the Point in History Tour, which was, indeed, a point in history, an inflection point in the history of music.Â
Nine months ago, the outfit Ava planned for the concert made way more sense. Now, nine months later, after a careless night⌠well, it didnât fit as nicely.
The outfit had been carefully chosen, taking into consideration every single thing: originality, the color palette, how hot she was gonna look.
Was there gonna be anyone else who could be wearing anything remotely like hers? The tour color theme was red. Not a color Ava wasnât fond of, not her favorite. It made her feel washed out and pale instead of hot. And she couldn't afford not to be the hottest girl in the waiting line.
A custom tight fit tank top that didn't make it past her belly button, covered in glitter and sparkling jewelry (yes, fake, but the expensive kind of fake) from an indie designer her friends had called obnoxious. Beneath the tank top, a red fishnet top. For the lower body, an obscene mini skirt that showed more skin than it covered and red Demonias with a seven-centimeter platform to finish strong.Â
Nine months ago. Nine months ago, when she tried the outfit on for the first time, it made sense. It made sense, and she looked hot as fuck in it.Â
Now, the only thing that fit was the fishnet top. The red mesh stretched precariously over the immensity of her now rounded stomach, a gravid orb that rested in front of her and stretched thin the already cheap fabric. Â
This wasn't exactly how she pictured it. Ava could feel the strain of her whole outfit. One single wrong movement, and it felt as if everything was going to snap out of place.
The only piece of clothing that didnât have to go under urgent transformations was the fishnet top. The tank top? She had to buy a new one that would actually fit. One that wouldn't squeeze against her now engorged, sensitive tits, and one that at least aimed to cover something of her stomach. The miniskirt? One of her friends let her borrow a new one that she could actually use and not look like a whale in faux leather.
The only thing she didn't have to change was her makeup look. Still flawless.Â
Ava finished applying lip gloss, her back screaming in protest as she leaned forward to see herself better in the mirror. Lately, it felt like even just getting her makeup done was a chore. With her whole new
Four hours. Just four more hours, and she was going to be seeing her favorite artist ever, just a few meters away from her. Not just her favorite artist ever, but the best artist ever.
Her parents didnât understand. Of course, they didn't, but it wasnât like they had a say on what she did with her own money. She didnât bust her ass to not use it. It wasn't a surprise when they didn't exactly approve of her going to the concert, well... now. In her last trimester, heavily pregnant and looking like she should be anywhere but a concert.
But Ava saw as one of those babymoons people fawned about. If she had, well, a boyfriend, she probably would have wasted a bunch of money to travel somewhere far away with nice views and outstanding room service to say goodbye to the last moments of freedom before her baby came. But she didn't have no boyfriend. The baby in her gravid stomach was the result of a one-night stand after a night out at the club. Â
It didnât bother her. Maybe a bit, at first. With all the nausea and all the slight existential dread about becoming a mother and all the incredibly annoying mood swings. But after a few months, it was as if her body was as resigned as she was about the whole deal and just⌠accepted it.
When Ava finally could look at herself in the mirror without a whole layer of denial washing over her mind, what she found wasnât that bad. It wasnât just the way her tits looked so great and the way her skin glowed. There was something in the way her body was changing, how it was behaving âher hormones were nuts, her brain was a wreckâ that would turn her into an uncontrollable mess. There was not a day spent where she was not thinking about fukcing.
Ava had thought that once she started to show, her sex life was going to be like the Sahara. But quite the opposite happened: men were crazy about it. The night spent at bars drinking soda and virgin piĂąa coladas, where her friends would get wasted and she would just sit around, wasn't a waste because she would always leave with someone clinging to her arm.
And now, to think that this â her huge gravid belly, the way she had droppedâ could get in the way of enjoying Jack Juniper's concert was ridiculous.
Her mom had been texting her constantly for the past few days. The last time she saw her parents, they wouldn't shut up about how she looked ready to pop. As if Ava didn't have mirrors at her place. As if she didn't spend the last few weeks going through the motions of everyone wanting to get their hands on her, on her massive stomach, to grope at the tender, stretched skin and comment on how low she was carrying now.
Her parents told her she probably should be at home, nesting or whatever bullshit that was, not at some concert filled to the brim with hormonal teenagers. But she wasn't going to miss this.Â
In the last few days, everyone seemed to have become a midwife. All of them had an opinion on how she had dropped.
She hadn't dropped then.Â
Now, however. Now she had dropped. Ava turned sideways, staring at herself from head to toe.
She sprayed a ton of glitter hair on one side, another ton on the other side. That was gonna be a nightmare to wash off later. The glitter residues flying in the air landed on the exposed skin of her chest, and she didn't bother to clean them up. Her tits looked great. And lowerâŚ
Her stomach hung in front of her, the skin of her underbelly peeking from beneath the strained fabric that worked hard to cover it. If she stared for too long, she was sure she could see past the stretch marks and the raw red of her stomach, and point exactly where the baby was positioned. And if she couldn't see it, she could feel it: a low weight settled on her hips. The past few days, this baby had done nothing but settle on her pelvis and threaten to move down, ready to come out.Â
Her phone buzzed in the drawer. Jaime's name popped up on the screen, accompanied by the 'Iâm here' text.
Ava's body froze in place as she reached to grab her phone. A numb pain took over her stomach, muscles tensing and forcing her to stop in place, hand extended in the air to reach for her phone, and Ava exhaled a strained breath.
Her free hand moved to press against the side of her stomach: the muscle beneath was rock hard, and Ava shifted her weight from one foot to the other, letting out a small whimper as the pain went away. "God. Braxton Hicks, huh."
The pain finally went away. She checked the time on the wall clock. Texted Jaime to come in. Checked the time again. This was the third or the fourth in the last few hours âshe wasn't counting. Or timing them. Or anything because this couldn't be the real deal.
At least not today. Not when she was about to go to the fucking concert of her life. This baby was gonna have to wait.
She finished applying the last of the glitter to the top of her hair as Jaime popped into her bedroom.
âSo,â he said, leaning against the doorframe. âAre you ready?â
âAre you ready?âÂ
The greeting was a bit tricky as Jaime leaned in to kiss her cheek. It was already hard to move around Ava's bedroom, even harder to do anything near her without bumping into her gravid stomach. Jaime did a little twirl to show her his outfit: red tank top and red leather jeans. There was a small pang of envy in Ava's stomach at the fact that even Jaime could still
wear a tank top â that he could still show off a flat stomach instead of... well, a nine-month pregnant belly.
âHow are they?â Jaime asked, pointing at her stomach.
âFine. Just coming and going, you know. I didn't bother timing them. They're just irregular.â She shrugged, moving to grab her bag. âThey feel like... I don't know, like normal cramps, but really annoying. Don't worry about it, my mom told me that she was in labor for twenty-four hours with me.â
âGod damn,â Jaime raised his eyebrows, applying lip gloss in front of the mirror. âSounds like hell.â
âI'm sure it can wait,â she said. âAt least until mommy sees Jack fucking Juniper live.â
Ava sighed, her hand moving to rub over the mound of her stomach, her thumb brushing over the fishnets as she stared down at herself. Her attempt to soothe the taut skin and the tired muscles was in vain, because no matter what she did, she couldn't shake off the discomfort of being so huge, so gravid, so pregnant. Full of a baby that didn't seem to want to make it any easier for her.
If she could, she would have joined Jaime to jump in excitement like a teen. Instead, she had to conform by holding his hands while he jumped and squealed.Â
This baby was gonna have to wait.
***
Ava didn't remember Jaime's car being this⌠cramped. It wasn't exactly a minivan for a suburban mom who had to take the kids to soccer practice, but she remembered there were times when they had fit more than four people without a problem.Â
Now, Ava felt cramped. So cramped. Against Jaime's complaining, she pulled the seat back as far as it went, but still. She felt like she was trapped in the passenger seat, her gravid body wedged against the seating, contorted in the most awkward position. Her hips ached just from sitting down with the weight of her stomach pressing down, legs spread apart to let it hang between her thighs. Ava spent most of the ride switching positions, moving right and left, feeling the sweat build up, feeling as if her outfit was shrinking on her in real time.
She counted three more Braxton Hicks on the way to the stadium.
If she didn't know better, she would have worried. But her eyes were fixated on the car clock every time her stomach tightened and relaxed, never following a pattern, contraction after contraction. Just an irregular and annoying pain that would make her squirm in place.
But if she could still pretend that everything was just fine, then it couldn't be that serious, right? Just Braxton Hicks. Practice ones. The real deal wasn't it yet.
Her mom said that she would know when a real contraction hit.Â
They were approaching the stadium when Jaime turned down the radio.
All they could see in front of them was a huge line of cars. After that, already piling up at the outside of the stadium, crowds of people buzzing with excitement, the faint sounds of their commotion.
âShit.â Ava sighed, hips shifting on her seat. Now we gotta find somewhere to park."
She wasn't sure if the swearing was because of the prospect of waiting or because of the way she felt like she couldn't sit still for much longer. Ava spread her legs even further, letting out a breath as she rubbed the side of her stomach, trying to soothe the throb. There was pressure. A lot of pressure. It was getting harder and harder to just sit still, pressure building up in her pelvis and forcing her to shift her hips, trying to lift them from the seat, trying to escape the feeling of the baby's head moving lower.
She still had time. She still had time. She still had time.
As they got closer, she realized that actually there weren't as many people as they thought. They had decided to try and come as early as possible to get the best view possible, it wasn't like they weren't expecting people to show up at a massive show, but the decision of coming early was made nine months ago by normal Ava and not heavily pregnant Ava.Â
Just the idea of sliding in there, surrounded by crowds of people, bodies and hands bumping around her and her stomach, the claustrophobic heat of people, it wasn't exactly a dream.
Ava held her breath when her stomach tensed. She shifted on her seat, one of her hands moving to press against her stomach, sliding towards her underbelly to lift slightly, and she gripped at the seat. She looked down to see the taut, tense skin under the red fishnets moving and contracting, and she swallowed.
Just breathe. She just had to breathe. Her thumb started to brush soothing circles on her underbelly, trying to keep her breathing steady as she pretended to look outside the window. The pain didn't go away immediately, as she expected. Which could mean nothing. Because she was still having just Braxton Hicks.
âYou good?â Jaime asked, eyes looking away from the road for a split second.
âYeah. Just⌠another cramp.â
âStill Braxton Hicks, right?â
Yeah. Yes. Of course. What else would it be? On this day, at this moment, Ava was not going to allow anything else but Braxton Hicks. She wasn't having this baby today. Not before the bloody show.
âYeah. JustâŚâ she squirmed again, letting out an exhale. âIt's hot in here.â
By the time Jaime finally found a parking spot, the pain in her stomach had disappeared, leaving behind just the uncomfortable feeling of being full. The engine turned off just as Ava realized how tense she was. Her whole body was stiff, shoulders tense and jaw taut as her hand rested protectively over her stomach, the weight of her stomach pressing down on her closed legs âshe didn't even realize when she pressed them together, almost as if she didn't even realize she was trying to keep something in.
God, all of this was becoming so uncomfortable. If she spent one more minute inside this car, she was going to explode. Ava swallowed, checked her reflection in the rearview mirror, and pretended to fix her hair. She looked like someone who was about to pop.
Ava exhaled any kind of thought about that when Jaime slid out of the car. With a groan, she did the same. One of her hands moved to grip the open door, and the other to support the underside of her stomach. One, two, three and⌠fucking up.Â
God, even that was tiring. She missed the point where all the mundane became almost impossible. It never felt any easier to get used to carrying all that extra weight.
The door closed behind her with a thud, one of her hands still holding her stomach for support as her body protested from the stiff muscles after sitting down. Ava turned around to stare at herself in the reflection of the window glass. She forced herself to wipe off the frown on her face and breathe out.
Her stomach went taut.
âOh,â Ava gasped, eyes going wide shut as she stared at her own reflection. âOh. UghâŚfuck.â
She leaned forward, using one of her hands to hold the car ceiling, leaning her weight into it. Her fingertips pressed against the warm metal, staring at her face bending into a grimace as the hardening on her stomach turned into a sharp pain taking over her middle. Shit. Ava swallowed, trying to keep her breathing as even as possible, as Jaime checked his phone next to her. This wasn't happening. She wasn't about to go into fucking full-blown labor.Â
Jaime said something, some complaining about the people or the heat or the waiting line. Ava nodded. She wasn't really listening.Â
Her mother's words echoed in her head: she would know when a contraction hit. And this was a contraction. And the only thing she could do right now was pray this baby would wait.Â
***
It turned out that being heavily pregnant in the middle of one of the most crowded events of the year did have some benefits.Â
She could feel the weight of people's stares on them âon herâ as they walked past the people. The way they looked at Jaime, then at her, then lower: eyes stopping at the sight of her massive middle, going wide at the huge stomach wrapped in red fishnets, barely contained by the tiniest tank top. They stared at the way she couldn't stand fully straight, as if her own weight was crumbling her down, how she looked a bit too tight, a bit too pregnant.Â
She could feel her face heat up when she thought that they thought how she looked was just a few steps away from having that baby fall out of her.
Which, technically, wasn't exactly not true.Â
The benefits? Yeah, that the people who weren't total assholes would let them skip in line. Jaime was delighted when the people in front of them started to move, clearing the way to let them get ahead, and he wrapped his arm around hers and dragged her forward, too fast, too eager, enough to make her wince at the sole movement.
They didn't get exactly next to the door, but close enough. Just thinking about the walk back to the car afterwards, tho, felt like hell. Her feet were killing her already.Â
If she did make it to the end of this concert.
Because even when they were just next to the door, just a few hours away from the gates opening and with time passing as quickly as it could âand Ava would know, because she was checking the time every few minutesâ she couldn't force a smile on her face. Not when the discomfort was growing by the second she stood there, when she couldn't shake off the idea that people were staring at her, at her gravid body as the contractions that would take over her stomach were now settling into a pattern, slowly but surely.
A pattern that started as a few sharp pains on her stomach, to a throb on her lower back that would travel to her hips and force her to squirm in place, her hands wrapping around the base of her stomach as she rubbed the taut skin, feeling the weight of the baby inside moving lower. She was sure that her lipstick looked gross because of how much she had been biting her lips.
The cramps were innocuous, harmless enough to let Ava force herself to believe that they were just the result of being standing there under the sun and surrounded by a crowd, to let her believe that she could make it. That she still was in to enjoy the night of her life. Enough to pretend in front of Jaime that everything was ok, to bite her lip and suck her breath every time the pain would take over, biting back whimpers.
Ava shifted, one of her hands gripping her bag and the other moving to rest on her lower back. She exhaled, feeling the weight of her stomach in front of her pulling her forward, and her fingers pressed in against the sore muscles of her back. The baby felt low. Low enough that it was starting to get more and more and more annoying to just stand. No matter how much she shifted or changed her weight from one foot to another, her legs always ended up forced spread open and her back arched, belly protruding forwards.Â
Every time she would become slightly aware of her body, Ava could feel the weight of the baby deeply nestled on her hips, and it felt as if it was slowly moving. Shifting, moving down. And she hated how slowly, but surely, the thought of pushing was nagging at the back of her mind.
The feeling that was starting to buzz in her stomach wasn't a contraction; it was the certainty that her body was telling her she was going to need to start pushing soon.Â
But her water hadn't broken yet, and of course, it all âthe contractions, the pressureâcould be nothing. Nothing but the strain of being this pregnant in this heat, standing for hours on end. She could have brought one of those pathetic folding chairs if she didn't insist on pretending, pretty much, that she wasn't a beached whale.
A drop of sweat moved down her neck towards her chest, losing itself on her cleavage. Once again, Ava hadn't realized how tense she was. How tightly she was carrying herself. As if she relaxed just for a second, her whole body would give in.
Ava breathed in, and her stomach shifted in front of her as she exhaled. She swallowed. Looked around.
People kept shooting looks at her, not at her, but at her bodyâ at the low-hanging massive stomach in front of her, at the way her legs were slowly but surely getting forced apart in the past few hours as the baby's head descended in her pelvis.Â
She forced herself to stand straight, body screaming under the stiffness of her new position.Â
âJaime,â she called, nails gripping at the hem of her bag.
A sharp pain took over her stomach, stealing the words straight from her lips. She sucked in a breath, biting the inside of her mouth to not fucking lose it. Shit. Shit. Shit. She breathed out, slowly, a low hum in her throat threatening to become a pathetic whimper as the muscles of her stomach cramped.
Thank god Jaime was too busy scrolling on his phone. If he wasn't, if he was paying any attention at her, Ava was sure that she would have crumbled and would have spitted out that she was in fucking labor and that they needed to go now if he diodnÂĄ't wanted her to have this baby in his car.Â
But Jaime's eyes remained fixed on his phone, and that split second that Ava had to relax the muscles of her face and pretend the head of the baby wasn't moving lower on her birth canal was enough to make up her mind. She wasn't going to miss this concert.Â
âMhm?â he finally looked up. âYou good?â
âYes. Yeah,â Ava hissed through gritted teeth, looking away. âWhat time is it?â
âTen past seven,â he sighed. âGod, this is taking forever. But I mean, it's just two more hours."
 âJust two more hours,â Ava repeated, nodding, forcing a smile onto her face.Â
Jaime raised his eyebrows at the suddenly positive output of his friends. Positive wasn't exactly the word she would use, more like hopeful. Hope that this baby will wait. That she could hold it in. She wasn't so sure.
***
The sun was starting to settle when Ava realized that she fucked up.Â
While the mosquitoes bit the exposed skin of their bodies and the excited murmur of the crowd started to die, Ava fucking despised how now suddenly they were quiet. That everyone was quietly busy on their phones. When she could have used some noise. Anything that could mask the way her breath turned into involuntary gasps each time a contraction would take over her. Contractions. Because she was having contractionsâ not cramps, contractions.
Ava realized she fucked up now, when her contractions were coming too fast, too soon, too consistent. Ava realized that her moment to quit was like... an hour ago.
She was becoming increasingly⌠desperate. That was the word: desperation. Desperation was slowly settling like a stone in the middle of her chest. She was desperate. Desperate for the stupid stadium to finally open the gates. Desperate they could get inside and see the fucking show start. Desperate to slide off these tight clothes. Desperate to be able to hold this baby in until the end. God, to think that she laughed when her mother talked about it, and now she was desperate to have a long labor. Maybe that meant that this baby would wait as much as he needed to.Â
It didn't feel like it. She could barely stand straight now, almost bent over herself, hands gripping at both sides of her stomach, the feeling of the head of the baby so, so low. It couldn't be right, could it? This whole thing was supposed to be slower. She read somewhere that first-time moms usually had long labors. This whole thing was supposed to let her enjoy the last moment of freedom she had before becoming a full-time mother.
âYou sure you're good? You look kinda pale."
Jaime's voice snapped her out of her misery for a moment. She realized how bad she looked: almost hugging her stomach, legs spread awkwardly, and face twisted in a strained scowl.Â
âYeah,â Ava lied, fixing herself. âJustâŚâ
She looked around. It felt as if the crowd of people were closing around them. Her eyes were jumping from the people around her to the security to anything that could help her in this moment until they landed on the public restrooms, the plastic green cubicles that stood near the waiting line.
Just by looking at them, she could smell them. But there were no waiting lines there.
âI gotta use the bathroom,â she said, pointing at the porta-potty with her head. âHold my things for a moment.âÂ
As she handed Jaime her bag, he grimaced.Â
âYou sure you can't hold it in?â He said, âI don't know if I would trust those bathrooms.â
Funny. She almost laughed at his choice of words. She wasn't sure she could hold it in; that was kinda the whole deal.
The pain of the contraction taking over her stomach didn't let her reply. Ava tightened her jaw, eyes focused on a point behind Jaime before she looked away, letting out a quiet groan as her fingers dug at the base of her stomach, nails scraping at the fishnet fabric.
âNo, I can't-â she exhaled, shaking her head. âI really gotta go. I'll be back.â
Before Jaime could reply, Ava was already turning around. It felt almost impossible to walk as the explosion of pain took over her middle like thunder, each step was hell as she forced herself to walk through it. Her stomach was rock hard beneath the palms of her hands as Ava bit her lip. There was a scream trapped at the back of her throat as she kept taking slow and steady steps towards the bathroom stall.
âFuck,â she hissed, eyes focused on the plastic stall. âFuck, please, justâŚâ
She wasn't sure exactly who she was talking to. If god or her body or the baby inside of her, but she was ready to thank all the heavens when she finally managed to get to the door and open it. Her stomach was still rock hard as Ava barged herSelf inside the claustrophobic space, the smell of cheap soap and something elseâsomething more disgustingâalmost made her gag.
She barely managed to turn around and lock the door with the very not trustworthy-looking plastic latch. The first thing she did as soon as the door was secure was to let out a loud whimper, her hands reaching the door to keep herself steady. Ava's legs trembled, and she leaned forward, her stomach hanging beneath her in the cramped space.
âUghnâŚâ she moaned, knuckles turning white as he gripped the door handle, resting her forehead against her arm. âShit. No, please noâŚâ
The contraction didn't go away. Ava was too aware of everything, of the pain in her middle, the smell and the heat and the feeling of the baby so, so low inside of her, the way she could barely fit inside the stupid confined space without her stomach hitting something each time she tried to move orâ
a gush of water trickled from between her legs.Â
Her eyes snapped open. Ava lifted her forehead from her arm to look between her legs, staring at the growing puddle of amniotic fluid forming at her feet. Her boots were slowly getting covered in drops of liquid. Thank god for the stupid skirt.Â
âUghn, no! I can't believeâ" Ava breathed, eyes still staring in disbelief between her feet. âShit. Holy shit. My fucking water just broke...â
A long whimper escaped her lips as the contraction finally went away, water still leaking from between her legs. God, this baby was coming.Â
One of her hands slid beneath the fabric of her skirt, lifting the fabric up as she pressed her fingers against the fabric of her soaked panties. The fabric stuck to her skin, and god, she couldn't catch a breath, could she?Â
Fuck. She couldn't stay like this. Thank god she wasn't wearing pants, she couldn't have dissimulated the wet spot on her groin.
Ava managed to move backwards in the minuscule space, hitting the toilet, and lifted her skirt up, enough to reach for her wet panties and pull them down, squirming with a gasp to try and get out of them. She couldn't keep them on.
âShitâŚâ she breathed, one hand gripping at the door as she leaned forward to take her own panties off. âUghâŚâ
It was hard to do anything with that stomach getting in the way, even worse in the minuscule square she was in. She had to focus. She had to control herself because, right now, she had worse things to worry about.
She stared at her underwear for a second: red, nice, pretty lace covered in amniotic fluid. She threw them in the trash can.Â
Fuck. Another whimper escaped Ava's mouth, not because of a contraction, but because of the sudden discomfort that washed over her. It all felt wrong. From the way her sensitive tits were trapped against the tight fabric of her tank top, to the scratchy feeling of the fishnets over the taut skin of her contracting stomach, to the restrictive feeling of the miniskirt, the way the fabric clung to her hips. It was all too much. The feeling of the baby's head moving lower on her birth canal, threatening to split her pussy open was too much.
Someone knocked on the other side of the door.Â
Ava panted. She brushed the sweat off her face with the back of her hands and carefully stepped out. She didn't look back when the next person went in, but she did hear when they walked out immediately and moved to the next stall.Â
She swore people were staring at her as she made her way back to the line. She wondered if it was because of the way her walk had turned into a pathetic waddling, or because of the way her stomach seemed to get even lower in the past few hours, or because, somehow, they knew she was trying to hold this baby in. Trying to drive her mind away from the need to push that was starting to creep into her mind.Â
***
Ava stared at the time on her phone. Then, at the gates in front of them. Then back at her phone.
Just twenty minutes. They were just twenty minutes until they opened the doors, just twenty minutes away from the hundreds of people waiting out there, going into the stadium like animals following the smell of blood.
She wasn't sure what exactly was what made her still stand there, next to Jaime, with her legs pressed together âas much as she could actually close themâ trying to pretend that her contractions weren't coming one almost behind the other now, trying to remain as quiet as possible each time her stomach tensed, each time the baby inside of her moved down. If it was the need to prove something to someone, or just the pure need to prove it to herself, that this baby was not going to ruin the night for her. The pure stubbornness to try and bend biology and her own body to show it who was the bossâ because the boss wanted to go to this stupid concert she waited nine fucking months to go to.Â
Or maybe it was the idea that if she pretended it wasn't happening, then it wasn't. If she tried to ignore the contractions, then maybe the baby wouldn't keep moving lower. Then maybe she wouldn't feel the urge to push.Â
If she ignored the way the baby of the head was moving down her birth canal, the massive weight that was forcing her to spread her legs open, then it wouldn't happen that it would finally reach her pussy and force her to bear down and crown. Â
But Ava was set on holding this baby in. As much as she could. She was sure that if she reached between her legs, if she slid her fingers past the tight fabric of her skirt and towards her naked pussy, she wouldn't find that she was dilated enough to start pushing. That couldn't be, at all. Not before Jack Juniper.
One of the gates opened. Ava felt her whole body tremble with adrenaline âor it might as well have been just the strain of trying to stop the baby from moving downâ and her eyes went wide as she stared at one of the security people coming out. Then, they closed the door behind them.
The crowd let out a sigh behind her. In front of her, Jaime muttered something that soudned like I cant fucking belive it. She wasn't quite listening.
All of her focus was on the contraction that was taking over her stomach right now. She was sure that if anyone would turn and look at her, they would have realized there was something fundamentally wrong with the heavily pregnant woman in the line. They would have realized that she looked like a woman right about to push a baby right there any minute.
âGod, not nowâŚâ she muttered to herself. âPlease. Not. Now. Just wait.â
She closed her eyes. Breathed in. Her fingers gripped at the base of her contracting stomach, teeth sinking on her lips as she buried a long moan at the back of her throat.Â
She could wait twenty minutes.
***
Ten minutes. Just ten minutes. That only meant two sets of five minutes each, and even less, four sets of two and a half minutes. Nothing at all.
Except that now Ava was fighting with claws and teeth, the urge to push. Urge, not warning. Ava was long past the warning.Â
Her body wasn't gently and lovingly encouraging her to push. It was screaming at her that this baby was coming whether she liked it or not, and it was coming soon.
Soon? Now.Â
It felt as if her stomach was just going through one big contraction, the muscles tense and the skin taut under her hands. And the pressure. God, there was so much pressure and Ava could barely stand straight without feeling like this baby was just about to fall right out of her.Â
She was trying so hard to just hold it in. She justâŚshe just had to not push. Hold it in. Keep this damn baby in until the stupid concert finished. Rather an ambitious goal.
Specially when she was sure that if she slid her fingers past the tight fabric of her skirt and towards her naked pussy, if she slid a finger inside of her, she would feel the top of the head right behind her pussy lips, bulging her pussy as it moved down against her will. That was how close this baby felt.Â
But that couldn't happen before this stupid concert, could it?
It felt like it really didn't matter what she wanted, because her body was making all the choices. Because her body was still pushing even when she pressed her legs so tightly close together, and this baby was moving lower and lower.Â
And she had to push. She was praying to every single god she could remember to please just open the fucking gates.Â
***
Five minutes felt like an eternity when you're trying not to push a baby out. But there she was, still standing.
Wasn't there a song that went like that? Fuck. Ava was forcing her brain to scatter itself everywhere, anywhere. To focus on anything, from the impatient chanting of the people surrounding her to the way the stars looked, to the sounds coming from inside the stadium, anything but the feeling of the pressure growing between her legs.Â
And still, beneath all that, the urge to push was the last thing her mind landed on. That and the feeling that she couldn't stand straight anymore.Â
If the situation were different, the sounds of the faint music coming from inside would have made her jump in excitement and scream like everyone else, but now.
Now Ava could feel herself leaning forward, her thighs trembling as her eyes went wide. She was pushing. She could feel her body pushing and forcing the baby down. Fuck. Fuck. God fucking no she was pushing.Â
It was primal, desperate, and there was nothing Ava could do to stop it. Not when she couldn't even keep her legs pressed together to keep the baby from moving any lower. She just couldn't hold it in any longer.Â
A low groan escaped her throat as Ava gritted her teeth, one of her hands gripping the base of her stomach and digging her nails into the tense muscle. The other, in a desperate movement, reached forward to grip Jaime's arm.Â
The boy startled, turning to face Ava. For a moment, his eyes landed on Ava's face, and she could see the exact moment when he actually processed what he was seeing.Â
âYou feeling good?â Jaime asked, tentatively.
Did she look fucking good?
âJaime,â Ava breathed, fingers tightening around Jaime's forearm. Her words were clipped and tight, the pain barely letting her speak. âListen, Iâ fuck, JaimeâŚgod. My water broke.â
Jaime's eyes went wide open. Then, his face contorted in panic as he looked down at the floor.
âNo, not- ughnâŚnot now. Earlier. In the bathroom,â Ava moaned, letting out an exhale. âI⌠fuck, I'm in labor.â
Well, admitting it out loud didn't feel like she expected. It didn't make anything better. It didn't make the feeling of the head starting to spread her pussy lips open go away.
âRight now!?â
âYes, right fucking now. Be quiet.â
âFuck. Fuck. Should we⌠we gotta go.â
Yeah, that would have been the sensible thing to do. An hour ago.Â
âNo, fuck no.â Ava shook her head, huffing out another breath. âI just- I can hold it in. I just gotta relax. They're about to open the doors anytime now-â
Jaime looked at her, then looked at his phone and the gates in front of them. Ava's hand was still gripping his forearm, and she was leaning her weight against him. Well, she did look like someone who needed to relax. Preferably in a hospital bed with an epidural.Â
âI gotta try,â the girl whined, trying to stand straight. âI justâŚgotta try. We're getting in soon.â
She just had to try. God, she wanted to try. But her body clearly had other plans.Â
She was pushing. Against her desire not to believe it, under the disbelief in Jamie's eyes, she was pushing.
Ava bit her lip, fingers tightening around Jaime's arm. Her face was blank, her eyes focused on a point behind her friend, and her lower lip as she tried to focus. On fighting against the way her body was forcing this baby down her birth canal, each movement of her body felt like it was forcing the head down, forcing it out.
Shit. This baby was coming.Â
âOh godâŚâ Ava muttered, a low whimper escaping her lips. âOh god. Fuck me. Please not now..â
Jaime still stared at her, eyes wide and going from her to the rest of the crowd.Â
Shame. Shame was one of the things she felt. Shame of having a baby about to crown between her legs. Of being here, just a few seconds away from pushing her baby out in front of this crowd of strangers, just a few seconds from not filling a lifelong dream of, well, going to this stupid concert.
âAva-.â
âJaime,â she interrupted him. âJust- don't -.â
She tried to force something that made sense out of her mouth, something that could still be a battle cry about how she wasn't about to give in, to just bear down and push. But she couldn't speak. She couldn't speak, and before she realized she was gripping Jaime's arm and slowly lowering her body, her legs trembling as they gave in, Ava lowered herself into a half squat.
She moaned. She didn't intend to, but she did, letting escape past her lips a loud, pitiful moan she couldn't control.Â
She was pushing.
âNo, no, no!â She whimpered, shaking her head no as her legs trembled. âOh, god, no!â
Both because indeed, her body was pushing, and she could feel the head moving lower, starting to to split her pussy lips open, and because security finally was opening the stupid gates.
A loud cry escaped her lips when she finally pushed. Against her will, but she pushed. In all of the places, in all of the moments in this day that this could happen, it was right before she was seconds away from fucking getting into the concert that she waited probably, her whole life for.
She was so close. So close to getting in. But she could feel her pussy stretching open around the head of the baby.
She pushed â she couldnât help it. Her eyes shut as her stomach contracted. She squatted lower, the muscles of her legs on fire as her skirt rode up and her body contorted. Ava could feel the air hitting the exposed skin of her pussy and her thighs, wet by the burst of amniotic fluid that escaped her. She could feel the head moving lower, the mass splitting her pussy open, her lips stretching around the rounded shape. With her effort, the head moved down fast.Â
âUghnn, itâs coming!â Ava moaned, legs trembling as the head started to crown between her legs. âFuck, itâs coming out, now! Jaime, I- owghn. I canât hold it in!â
Almost as if her body was only waiting for her cooperation to get this baby out. It all was happening too fast, the head splitting her open, a ball of black hair covered in fluids peeking from her bulging pussy lips.
Around her, the people were rushing in. Running past them to get inside the open gates of the stadium. A few small groups of people were, as she feared, staring. If Ava looked up, she was sure she would see the horrified looks of people on her: at the tense, gravid stomach hanging in front of her, at her squatting in front of the open gates in the middle of a concert, with a baby about to crown between her legs.
Some people watched, fascinated by the horror of seeing this woman giving birth right there. Others had pulled their smartphones out and were filming. Most of them were still running inside, waves of people trying to get in. They were supposed to be one of them. But she was giving birth.
âArgh!â Ava whimpered, shaking her head. âOh, god, the headââ she bit her lips, legs trembling as she pushed again. âThe headâs coming outâŚ! It burns!â
She pushed. One of the biggest contractions yet took over her as Jaime shouted at security people that were coming their way âprobably something about calling 911â but Ava was too focused on pushing. The head crowned with a gush between her legs, poking from beneath her skirt. She was crowing, her pussy stretching open around the head. God, she couldnât believe she was giving birth now.
âPlease, no, no, no..!â Ava cried, hissing as the head of her baby dangled between her legs. âUghnâŚ!â
Inside the stadium, people were screaming. Shouting, singing, lost in the wave of excitement as the show started. Outside, right there, Ava was screaming as she let go of Jaimeâs arm to move to catch the baby that slid out of her with a gush.Â
As the baby started to bawl in her arms, she could hear the people inside the stadium shouting. It sounded like they were having the time of their lives.Â
The air was fetid with the odors of antiseptic, sweat, fear and anxiety. Her world had contracted to the white ceiling tiles, the vicious, knife-like pain in her back, and the inexorable, tightening, crushing vise that closed around her abdomen every ninety seconds. Her knuckles were chalky white against the starched hospital sheet. Her nightgown clung to her clammy skin, soaked through with sweat and urine.
âEasy, Lucy. Not like that. Breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Youâre hyperventilating.â
The voice, when it broke through her mindâs obsessive, keening mantra of The baby! Heâs coming! Stop it, you fool! hurt like a blow to the head. So calm, so reasonable, so surgical. Dr. Jason Smith was at the foot of the tall, steel bed frame, his very presence an absolute command in his pristine white coat. Lucy was his wife. He was not her husband in this room, but her doctor. The most senior obstetrician in the county.
âJason, please⌠I canât⌠I canât lie here. I need to move. I need to get up,â she sobbed, hot, heavy tears carving clean tracks down her sweaty temples. A new contraction began, slow at first, but then building like a tidal wave, inexorable, immense, pushing her out of her own body with a howling, guttural cry.
âYou will. As soon as you like. The dorsal lithotomy position is not medically optimal.â There was no room for discussion in his voice. He didnât even glance up from what he was doing as he yanked a lamp from the wall, dragging the heavy wire until the hot, bare bulb loomed like a spotlight unblinkingly between her spread thighs. âNurse, the mirror. Angle it so Mrs. Smith can see her perineum. Visual feedback as to the progress being made is an excellent motivational tool.â
A wheeled mirror was swung into position, and with the blessed pause that followed a contraction, Lucy twisted her head and stared, in disbelief, in horror, at the obscene sight that confronted her. The swollen, purpling pinnacle of her own flesh stretched grotesquely around the black circle of pubic hair and the telltale, dark, bulbous circle of⌠her child. The crown of her sonâs head, and a look of mute, wordless horror in her own.
âLook, Lucy. Look at your work. See how far you are? Excellent. On the next contraction, when I tell you, you are going to take a deep breath, tuck your chin, and push right into your fundament. Right into your backside. Do not push with your face. Itâs purple and far too delicate for my work.â
The door opened and a line of three young men in white coats filed into the room, all of them bearing an expression of avid interest and chalky pallor in equal measure. âAh, students. Thank you for coming. Perfect. You stand over there, out of the way. Observe. Note the formation of the caput. This is a classic example of a primiparous labour, though admittedly slightly protracted.â
Lucy gaped at him. âJason⌠no⌠not with themâŚâ
âSilence, my dear,â he crooned, in a low, rich voice so at odds with the tableau it was almost obscene. He moved to the side of the bed, sliding his cool, dry hand under her chin to tilt her head up, her hair sluicing away in thick black rivulets from her brow. In his other hand, he wrapped long, strong fingers around her lower thigh, hooking it behind her knee and yanking it further apart, opening her up to the room. âThe students must learn. And you must be brave for me. Very brave. Now push.â
She began to cry again, the sobbing breaths and a deep trembling from muscle and bone exhausted from hours of near-constant agony. The contraction came and with it, another scream, tearing from her innards like her insides were being torn out. Another push, until she thought her insides would surely give way.
âI said push into your bottom! Not with your face! Youâre doing it wrong. Youâre being wasteful! Do it again! Push! Harder!â
He continued to gently stroke her hair, his hand still dry and cool despite the rivulets of sweat, urine, and blood running down her body. His voice, however, was insistent, and cutting. The contrast nearly unhinged her. She sobbed into her hands and tried to stop shaking.
It lasted hours, somehow. Hours of this, though the mirror gave pitifully little indication of the progress being made. The babyâs head, slick with blood and amniotic fluid, would crown with a grunt, a thick, wet circle, and then slip back, defeated when she drew breath to scream. The contractions were as unrelenting as they were intense.
âThe perineum is taut. Likelihood of a third-degree or even fourth-degree tear is high,â Jason announced clinically, as if he were merely commenting on the weather. âPrepare for a midline episiotomy.â
âNo! Jason, please. Please, donât cut me,â Lucy pleaded, her voice a ragged whisper of itself.
âDarling, you must have faith in me. If we donât do this, you will tear right up to your rectum. This is much cleaner. Much less likely to scar badly.â He held her eyes with his own, thumb still caressing her cheek. âBe a good girl for me. Do what I say.â
He took the long, curved blade the nurse proffered. She saw it, gleaming in the harsh lights, and for a moment considered screaming. There was no anesthesia. The contraction came and over the top of it, as she screamed her soul out, she felt not the rending ring of fire sheâd been told to expect, but a precise, acute, clean slice. Painful, but it had a specific location and sensation, one she could focus on. The hot flood of blood that followed was brighter than the urine and other fluids sheâd lost, painting the drape a nasty shade of scarlet. The release of pressure was instantaneous and monumental, as the childâs head was thrust forward into the new cavity.
âVery good. Head is now fully-crowned but arrested. We will help her. The vacuum.â A greasy, steel cup was produced, already connected to some kind of pneumatic pump. Jason labored it over the babyâs scalp, the suction creating a perfect dome of swollen, bruised flesh. He held the cup steady and, as Lucy pushed her very soul out of her body, gave a steady, firm tug.
Lucy experienced a ripping, splitting white-hot nothingness in the head. She felt as if she was being torn in half, every bone and sinew within her was giving way to the monstrous force inside her. With a tearing, sucking pop, the head was free. There was no cry, however. Instead, the childâs head lolled and silent on the sheet, a swollen, bruised, bluish-purple visage aimed awkwardly in an unnatural direction. The neck, she noticed with horror, appeared to be partially twisted.
âShoulder dystocia,â Jason said with a modicum of tension, for the first time in her contact with him, as the nurses scurried to her. âMcRoberts maneuver. Now.â
The nurses were on her like rabid dogs, pulling her knees back and up to her ears, leaving her in a position far more frog-like than any woman should be expected to be in her birthing position. Jasonâs hands, now gloved in long surgical gloves slick with blood, urine, and vernix, disappeared inside her. She felt grinding, scraping agony as he pushed and twisted, his forehead creased in concentration. The babyâs head, silent and misshapen, stared dully from the mirror.
âItâs not working. Forceps.â
âJason⌠the baby⌠the baby⌠is itââ She gasped, her voice choking.
âBe quiet, Lucy. I canât concentrate if you keep talking.â The voice, all of the rich, endearments were gone. This was serious.
She knew them from the diagrams and photos sheâd seen before the procedure. Forceps were the mechanical answer to shoulder dystocia, but in form they were horrific: two great, shining, curved steel spoons that interlocked. They were inserted with cold, metallic purpose, sending Lucy into a fresh round of bile-churning vomiting over her own chest. Jason clamped them onto the babyâs head, now joined with the vacuum cup still suctioned to his scalp. He braced his foot on the edge of the bed for purchase.
âPush now, Lucy! With everything you have! As if your life depends on it! As if your life depends on it!â His voice was a command from hell. âOr we will lose him!â
She made an unholy, dying sound from somewhere deep in her belly and pushed. Jason pulled on the handles, his whole body taut with effort. There was a sound like old timber snapping and she was suddenly in agony, the babyâs body wrenching free, and a sudden collapse of muscle as the boy slid out in a tsunami of blood and other fluids.
The room fell silent. The baby was a boy, blue and still, draped in the sheets, the forceps and vacuum cup still jammed to his grotesque, misshapen head. The neck, she noticed with horror, was bent at an unnatural angle. Jason was working furiously, yanking on the instruments, suctioning the mouth, then flicking him hard across the back. The child remained limp and silent.
One of the students turned and quietly vomited into the corner sink.
After a minute of frenzied rubbing and oxygen, the boy whimpered feebly, a sound that was more of broken damage than of healthy new life. He was gingerly placed on top of Lucyâs heaving, broken chest. She did not move to take him. She was far beyond taking him. She saw only the deep crescent bruises from the forceps blades around his temples, the elongated swelling where the vacuum cup had been, the way his head was too loose on his shoulders.
Jason was already back inside her, hands firmly back up in her body and working like mad to deliver the placenta. âVaginal and cervical lacerations, both extensive. Hemorrhage, significant. Sutures. Now.â He did not look at his son, now whimpering feebly in the arms of a nurse, or at his wife, whose eyes were milky and distant with shock.
Lucy gasped and heaved as a nurse injected something into her IV, bringing on a cold, woozy detachment. Jason looked up at last. He removed the now blood-soaked gloves and moved back to her side, taking her limp hand in his and stroking it.
âYou see, my dear?â He murmured, his voice gentle again as he stroked her hair and the intern between her legs began the long, slow, grisly process of sewing up her ravaged body, layer by viscera-coated layer. âYou did so very well. You did exactly as I asked. You were so good for me. We have our son.â
Lucy turned away from the mirror, from the students, from the ruined bloody mess between her legs, and from the bruised, strange creature in her arms. She looked only at the white ceiling tiles, retreating into their cold, sterile nothingness as her husband, her doctor, the man who had broken her body, heart, and soul with possessive pride, kissed her forehead.
Today was the first day she could (legally) drink! However, there would be no boozy celebrations for her twenty-first birthday. No, instead, Harper was at home. She was staring down a huge, uncomfortably baby bump that should have been vacated two weeks ago.
"Listen, kid, I didn't plan on spending my twenty-first birthday still huge and miserable. I have been trying to serve you an eviction notice for weeks. You know that squatter laws don't apply to my womb, right?"
In response, it seemed, she got a firm kick in her ribs. Harper winced, rubbing at the offending area. She paced awkwardly around her house, her belly causing her tank top to ride up, the waistband of her college sweatpants not visible from under her baby bump. She sighed, disgruntled with the whole situation.
Her boyfriend was out of town for a family emergency, unable to do much but support her over the phone. He was going to be home tomorrow, and it wasn't like this baby was going to be born any time soon. She rolled her eyes as she settled back onto the couch, trying to find something, anything to watch to settle her restless mind.
She was mindlessly watching another bad TV show on Hulu for what felt like forever, and ended up falling asleep for an hour or so. Harper made a small noise of discontent as she woke to a sharp pain in her stomach.
"That's rude, kid..."
She muttered softly to herself, rubbing at the spot. She stretched, sitting on the couch and trying to get comfortable. Another marathon was littered with painful cramps, causing her to shift and squirm, trying to find a way to get comfortable. She was three episodes in when the pain intensified.
"Ow! Stop that..."
She rubbed at her belly again. The last time she had gone through this, it was Braxton Hicks contractions, and she wasted two hours in the ER feeling like an idiot.
"Not this time, you little freeloader..."
Harper continued to shift and rub at her belly, unable to find a good way to sit. The pain slowly began to become more and more consistent. When they originally started, they were roughly ten minutes apart. Now they were five, and she was getting annoyed.
So she paced, walking the small apartment that she called home, mumbling softly to herself while her TV softly played in the background. She was texting her boyfriend, updating him on how annoying his baby was being when she accidentally dropped her phone.
"Oh! Son of a bitch---"
The phone refused to turn on, the screen shattered at just the right angle.
"Fuck..."
As she swore, an intense pain rocked through her body.
"Ow! Fuck, fuck!"
No.
Her timing couldn't be this bad, could it?
Two weeks past due, and now this kid wanted out?
"It's fine, the first birth takes a while...he'll be home in the morning...I just gotta wait it out."
She took soothing breaths, still pacing the apartment, unable to sit still. About an hour later, she was met with the startling feeling of her water breaking, soaking her sweatpants.
"Fuck me!"
She groaned in pain, slowly stripping off her sweatpants and kicking them out of her way as she struggled her way to the bathroom. Ever so carefully, she managed to get into the shower, the hot water only mildly soothing.
"You've gotta chill, kid, you're making me nervous..." She spoke softly. Harper rubbed her stomach, wincing as it started to grow hard with the contraction.
"Ow, ow, ow..."
She would have gone to their neighbors, if they weren't visiting their vacation home. Lucky them. Harper moaned, leaning against the shower wall as she struggled to catch her breath.
"You're killing me here..."
Harper took her time, finally changing into some fresh clothes: her boyfriend's oversized t-shirt (which was less oversized with her bump) and a pair of soft cotton shorts.
She slowly, carefully trudged her way to the bedroom, crawling up onto her bed and turning on the TV that was situated there. Harper tried to distract herself again with the copious amounts of TV shows, but nothing would override the pain.
Two hours of squirming, moaning, and trying to get comfortable passed. It felt like the baby was low, almost like it would fall out of her if she wasn't careful. The sensation was enough to cause her to instinctively close her legs.
"Stop...stop..." She moaned, gritting her teeth.
"Daddy...comes home in the morning...you have to wait..."
Another pain. She gasped, letting out a sharp noise. The pain was coming rapidly now, only three minutes apart.
"You're...hurting me...stop..."
She didn't know what to do. She had avoided those birth classes like the plague. It felt like they were filled with wealthy, older white women who did yoga daily and would judge her ambling in wearing her boyfriend's hoodie and her college pride merch.
What was she supposed to do? How would she know it was time?
Women had been doing this their entire lives, haven't they?
Harper let out a shriek as a sharp pain gripped her. She grabbed her belly, a ragged sob filling the quiet room.
Her body seemed to be uninterested in her pleas. The pain didn't stop, nor did it slow down. It only got more intense. Each pain seemed to come on top of the last, demanding her attention. She was gritting her teeth, her hands gripping at the sheets on her bed. It felt like she was being pried open. Something was pressing at her, something large and heavy.
"No, no, not now, not now---"
It was 2 am. This had started at 9 PM. She just had to last until 6 am, when her boyfriend was due to come home.
Each breath was sharp and ragged. She fought desperately, clamping her legs shut and squirming against the foreign sensation of something trying to press its way out of her.
"No, no, no..."
She fought this urge for an hour. When she glanced at the time on the clock on the wall, it read 3:26 AM.
Fuck.
Another intense pain. A part of her begged for her to bear down. All it wanted was for her to be done with this.
What if it was too soon?!
She let out a yelp as she accidentally opened her legs.
"Not like this, not like this..."
The sobbing and writhing continued. She was shaking, her whole body tense and ready for something she was not prepared for.
It was 4:56.
She only had one more hour...one more hour.
There was only one problem: it was coming.
She tried her best not to push, but her body started without her. She felt a horrifying pain start to rip through her. The baby's position felt...weird, like it was pressing down into her back instead of her hips.
"Fuck! Oh my god, no!"
Her protests meant nothing. Each contraction started to slowly shift the baby downward.
"Please, not like this, I'm scared, I can't---"
Her pleas ripped into a scream as her self control shattered and she pushed.
"Oh, fuck, it hurts! No!"
It hurt so much more than she thought it would. It felt like it was burrowing down into her back instead of sliding out the way it was supposed to, like it was not positioned correctly.
"Please, stop, stop, oh my god..."
Her legs shook as she pushed, gripping her knees as she bore down. This continued for the next half hour, with her pushing desperately, and the baby refusing to move.
"Please...please..."
She struggled to move off of the bed, standing beside it. She leaned over the side of the bed, struggling to remove her shorts. It was there, bent over the side of the bed, she started pushing again. Another twenty minutes.
It was so close to 6 am. The sun was rising as she bore down. Mercifully, the baby was starting to move.
"Oh god...oh god, it hurts! Something's wrong, something's wrong---"
She let out a shriek as she bore down again. The baby was reluctantly moving downward. Harper's legs shook violently. Just as the baby's head started to crown, her legs gave from under her. She sat on her ass on the floor, staring at the floor length mirror next to her bed.
She was sweaty, bright red, her hair hanging in her face. Tears streaked her face and her pussy was swollen, just barely starting to show the head of her baby.
She glanced at the clock on the wall.
6 am.
He should be home.
She let out a howl of pain as a contraction tore through her.
"Please, please, baby, are you home?!"
She was met with an empty apartment as the baby's head started to stretch her open. She screamed in pain as she pushed, unable to fight her body's demands. Each second was spent either pushing or catching her breath, unable to even take a moment to think, to rationalize.
"Please, baby, don't, don't---"
She screamed as the pain came, forcing her to push again. The pain was peaking, and she wasn't sure if she could do this. This felt...harder than it should be. Something was wrong, something was wrong about how the baby was positioned. She sobbed as she looked in the mirror. The baby's head was slowly opening her...but the baby's head was upright.
That was why she was struggling so hard: the baby wasn't positioned correctly.
"No! Fuck! Fuck! Somebody help me! Please! I need help! I----"
She shrieked as the pain took her and bore down. The baby moved slowly, fighting her efforts every step of the way. She pushed, and pushed, enduring a pain that she may have been a little too young to experience. Adult or not, she just hadn't expected it to hurt like this.
6:23. She was alone. It was coming.
"Help me! Somebody, please, help me! It's coming!"
Harper wailed in desperation. The baby's head finally emerged. She yelped, reaching down as she struggled to push out the shoulders. Her fingers grabbed the baby's shoulders, slowly coaxing the admittedly large baby from inside of her. As she sobbed, holding the large baby boy to her chest, she heard the lock to the door turn.
