MDNI
Previously was EndlesslyPushing but my account was lost.
27 Yo Enby.
Open to RP as carrier or mutual birth.
This is exclusively a RP/fake pregnancy blog.
"Feels like the baby is gonna fall out of me" while in a public setting.
Imagine having a full cart of groceries and you suddenly feel everything drop low, your waters dripping against your thigh and your baby rapidly pulling your cervix wide.
My lips pulled into a grimace as a particularly bad cramp rolled into my womb. Air was sucked through my teeth as I gently closed my eyes. My hips slowly swayed from side to side as I gripped the cart full of groceries. The swollen mound poorly hidden under my extra-extra-extra-large hoodie squeezed relentlessly on the brat that had occupied my womb for the last 42 weeks, pulling it down hard. All I did was sigh.
"Roslyn, baby? You okay?" The angelic voice was paired with the feeling of a gentle palm on my lower back, rubbing into my aching spine. I sighed again, but the breath was rougher this time.
"Roslyn..? Uhm... Should we just go home..?"
"S-Sorry El..." I groaned out as the contraction peaked. "Feels like she's gonna fall right out of me..."
The tall blonde next to me blinked, eyes widening behind thick glasses. Her mouth dropped as I rolled my head to one side, coming to gently rest on her chest. I could hear her heartbeat.
"Ros- Roslyn, whaaa... Are you in labor?! Ohmygod, we gotta-" She started, panic taking over her expression. I sighed in relief as the contraction eased up.
"Calm down El, I'm the one in labor here..." I murmured.
"Ohmygod, you are in labor?? We- We have to-"
My head sunk down against the cart as another rough cramp made my womb squeeze harshly. My girlfriend's nervous chattering faded out for a moment, as if I was deaf. I could feel a groan, probably a loud one, rattling through my throat as I tried not to give in.
"Roslyn, can you hear me baby?! Roslyn, please, ohmygod-"
"Uff, that's better..." I suddenly mumbled.
"B-Better? What's bet-" Her voice suddenly stopped; presumably she had seen the dark stain in my crotch I could feel spreading down my legs.
"Oh- Oh no... Roslyn, b-baby, let's go home, we- you gotta-"
"Pants-" I snapped.
"Wh- What..?"
"Get my pants off, she's fucking cominnnnnnngggg-!" I hissed out as my fully dilated cervix gave way to the heavy head behind it, the pressure in my womb sending it rocketing down my all-too-ready canal.
Amita stood in the small bathroom of her apartment, staring at the two pink lines on the pregnancy test. Her hands trembled as she set it down on the sink, her mind racing. She was 28, an independent woman living in Mumbai, working as a graphic designer, and now, unexpectedly, she was pregnant. She took a deep breath, running her fingers through her long, dark hair, trying to process the news. But the real shock came later that week when she visited her doctor and learned something extraordinary: she was carrying twins—and each twin had a different father.
The doctor explained it calmly, as if it were just another medical fact. Heteropaternal superfecundation, she called it. Rare, but not impossible. Amita had been seeing two men—Omar, a quiet, thoughtful architect with a gentle smile, and Malik, a bold, charismatic chef who owned a small restaurant near her office. She hadn’t planned for things to get so complicated. She cared deeply for both of them, and they each brought something unique into her life. Omar was her steady anchor, the one she turned to for comfort and long conversations about life. Malik was her spark, the one who made her laugh and swept her off her feet with his passion. She hadn’t meant to juggle them both, but here she was, caught in a tangle of love and biology.
Amita sat on her couch that evening, her hands resting on her still-flat stomach, wondering how she’d break the news. She couldn’t hide it forever—twins would be impossible to conceal, and the truth about their fathers would eventually come out. She decided to tell Omar first. She invited him over for tea, her nerves buzzing as she poured steaming chai into two cups. He arrived with a bouquet of marigolds, his soft brown eyes crinkling as he smiled at her. She took a deep breath and told him everything: the pregnancy, the twins, the fact that one was his and the other wasn’t. Omar’s face froze for a moment, the flowers slipping slightly in his grip. He set them down on the table and sat back, processing.
“You’re sure?” he asked quietly, his voice steady but laced with something she couldn’t quite place—shock, maybe, or hurt.
“The doctor confirmed it with a DNA test,” Amita said, her throat tight. “I didn’t know this could even happen.”
Omar nodded slowly, his hands clasped in his lap. “And the other father… it’s Malik, isn’t it?”
She nodded, unable to meet his gaze. She braced herself for anger, for him to walk out, but instead, he reached for her hand. “This is… a lot,” he said. “But I’m not going anywhere. If one of them is mine, I’ll be there. We’ll figure it out.”
Tears welled up in Amita’s eyes, and she squeezed his hand, grateful for his calm strength. But she knew the next conversation wouldn’t be so easy. Malik was fiery, impulsive—he’d either laugh it off as some cosmic joke or storm out in a blaze of jealousy. She called him the next day, asking him to meet her at his restaurant after closing. The scent of spices lingered in the air as they sat at a corner table, the dim lights casting shadows on the walls. She told him the same story, watching his expression shift from confusion to disbelief to a loud, incredulous laugh.
“Twins? And one’s mine?” Malik leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his thick hair. “That’s insane, Amita. You’re telling me I’m sharing this with Omar?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice firm despite the knot in her stomach. “I didn’t plan this, Malik. It just happened.”
He studied her for a long moment, his dark eyes narrowing. “And what do you want from me? To play daddy while he does too?”
“I want you to decide for yourself,” she said. “I’m keeping them. Both of them. If you want to be part of this, you can. If not, I’ll understand.”
Malik rubbed his jaw, his bravado faltering. “I need time to think,” he muttered, standing up abruptly. He left her sitting there, the sound of the door slamming echoing in the empty restaurant.
Weeks turned into months, and Amita’s belly grew. She decorated a small nursery in her apartment, painting the walls a soft yellow and setting up two cribs side by side. Omar came over often, helping her assemble furniture and bringing her homemade meals. He’d sit with her on the couch, his hand resting gently on her stomach, feeling the kicks of the baby he’d fathered. Malik, meanwhile, kept his distance at first, but slowly he started showing up too. He’d bring her spicy chaat from his restaurant, claiming it was “good for the babies,” and though he and Omar rarely spoke, an uneasy truce began to form. Amita didn’t push them to get along—she knew this was uncharted territory for all of them.
By her eighth month, Amita was enormous, waddling around her apartment with a mix of exhaustion and excitement. She’d had countless doctor’s appointments, each one confirming that the twins were healthy, growing strong despite their unusual origins. She’d named them already: Aarav for Omar’s son, meaning “peaceful,” and Zayan for Malik’s, meaning “bright.” She liked the idea of their names reflecting their fathers’ personalities, a small way to honor the two men who’d shaped her life.
It was a humid evening in late March when the first contraction hit. Amita was alone, folding tiny onesies on her bed, when a sharp pain rippled through her abdomen. She gasped, clutching the edge of the mattress, waiting to see if it was a fluke. But then another came, stronger, and she knew it was time. She grabbed her phone, her fingers shaking as she called Omar first. “It’s happening,” she said, breathless. “Can you get me to the clinic?”
Omar was there in fifteen minutes, his car screeching to a stop outside her building. He helped her down the stairs, her overnight bag slung over his shoulder, and drove her to the local childbirth clinic, a modest building with whitewashed walls and a steady stream of expectant mothers coming and going. Amita gripped his hand as another contraction hit, her breathing ragged. “Call Malik,” she managed to say. “He should know.”
Omar hesitated, then nodded, pulling out his phone. Malik answered on the second ring, his voice tense. “She’s in labor,” Omar said simply. “Get to the clinic if you want to be here.” He hung up without waiting for a reply.
The clinic was bustling but efficient. A nurse led Amita to a delivery room, the fluorescent lights harsh against the pale blue walls. She settled onto the bed, sweat beading on her forehead as the contractions grew closer together. Omar stayed by her side, holding her hand and murmuring encouragements. “You’re doing great,” he said, his voice a steady anchor in the chaos of pain.
The door burst open twenty minutes later, and Malik strode in, his chef’s apron still tied around his waist, stained with turmeric and oil. “I didn’t miss it, did I?” he asked, his eyes darting between Amita and Omar.
“No,” she panted, managing a weak smile. “You’re just in time.”
The labor stretched on for hours, each minute blurring into the next. Amita gripped both their hands—one steady, one restless—as the pain intensified. The doctor, a no-nonsense woman with gray streaks in her hair, coached her through it. “Push, Amita,” she said firmly. “You’re almost there.”
With a final, guttural cry, the first baby came—a boy, small and squalling, with a shock of dark hair. The nurse wrapped him in a blanket and handed him to Omar, who stared down at Aarav with awe. “He’s mine?” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
“Yes,” the doctor confirmed, already focused on the next birth. “One more, Amita. You can do this.”
Minutes later, the second twin arrived, another boy, louder and fiercer than his brother. Zayan was placed in Malik’s arms, and for once, the brash chef was speechless, his eyes glistening as he looked at his son. Amita collapsed back against the pillows, exhausted but elated, watching the two men cradle their babies. The room was quiet except for the soft cries of the newborns, a strange harmony settling over the trio of adults who’d been thrust into this unlikely family.
The days that followed were a whirlwind. Amita recovered at the clinic, the twins sleeping in bassinets beside her bed. Omar and Malik took turns visiting, bringing food and arguing over who got to hold their son longer. It wasn’t perfect—there were tense moments, awkward silences—but they made it work for her sake, and for the boys’. When Amita finally brought Aarav and Zayan home, the apartment felt fuller, alive with the chaos of new life.
She stood in the nursery one night, watching the twins sleep, their tiny chests rising and falling in unison. Omar stepped up beside her, his shoulder brushing hers. “They’re beautiful,” he said softly.
“They are,” Malik agreed, joining them from the doorway. For a moment, the three of them stood there, a fragile but real unit bound by the two small lives they’d created.
Amita knew it wouldn’t always be easy. There’d be questions as the boys grew, explanations to give, and a world that might not understand. But as she looked at Omar and Malik, at Aarav and Zayan, she felt a quiet certainty. This was her family—unconventional, unexpected, but hers. And that was enough.
I like the idea of writing a particularly difficult birth, so how about this?
2 / bed / 4 (extremely slow) / painful > Agonizing / No help / bath > bed / on side > squatting / Head first > posterior / Brutal > impossible / Second (you, female-minded)
Two for one
Word count: 1060
You woke up a few times during the night with cramping in your massive belly. Each time you tried to convince yourself it was just some Braxton hicks and went back to bed. That was until an unusually bad one had you gripping the sheets and crying out. When it was finally over, you made an attempt to sit up. It was quite the struggle with your massive belly and swollen breasts holding you down. With a bit of time you eventually managed to get yourself resting against the pillows.
Your contractions came and went through the day. Each one was getting more painful than the last and closer together. You found it harder to time when you could get up to use the bathroom or grab food. Each time you’d think you’d make it but a contraction would force you to lean against the wall in order to stay upright.
Now it was nearly dinner time. You’ve been laboring all day and are exhausted. At some point you managed to move from the bed to the bathroom. Where you’re now clinging to the tub and fully screaming through your current contraction.
The pain continued to grow and so did your voice. Finally, your screams turned to pants as the contraction started to die down. You shifted your weight between your knees and leaned over to start the bath. Your belly brushed the cold edge of the bathtub, sending a shiver through you. The water started to fill the tub as you shook off the robe you’ve been failing to keep closed.
You weren’t able to get into the tub before the pain started to creep up inside you. Your belly contorting in time with your next contraction. You were forced yet again to grab at the tub and scream through a contraction. The water lapped against your hand distracting you from the fading contraction. You quickly realized the faucet was still running and the tub was getting dangerously full.
You heaved yourself up, your legs shaking from the last of the contraction lingering.With just a bit of strain you managed to stop the water from flowing. The warm water was nice on your skin. You know the tub should be drained a bit before you get in but you were too exhausted to care. Water splashed on the floor from your massive body raising the waterline and causing it to spill.
You had just enough time to fully sit before the next contraction was starting. This time you started to feel the need to push. You leaned back and tried to just breathe. Your body had a different idea. It wasn’t long before you felt yourself push. Your body took over and wanted this baby out.
The baby filled your birth canal slowly and painfully. With each contraction you pushed with all your might. Only to move the baby barely an inch with each push. The water had long turned cold by the time the head was pressing against your lips. The next handful of contractions felt like the worst ones yet. It wasn’t the pain raging through your back and hips, it was the burning between your thighs. The head was stretching you far beyond what you would think possible.
Then with a scream, the head popped free. You reached down to check for a cord. When there wasn’t one, you began to push again. The shoulders pressed against your hole only for a moment before they too popped free. It was barely a push after that to get the rest of the baby out.
You lifted the new life from the water as it started to cry. You finally were able to relax. You held your new baby and started to drain the tub. Soon after it emptied you climbed out and wrapped yourself and the newborn in towels.
You waddled off down the hall. The pain in between your legs made your waddle even worse than when you were carrying both babies inside you. A contraction started halfway to the bedroom, signalling your next baby would be born soon. You managed to take deep breaths and walk through the pain.
It worked long enough to place your newborn in the bassinet. Then you collapsed to the floor. You arched your back and let out a deep moan as the pain took over. This baby felt bigger and you were already so tired from pushing out the first one. You didn't know how you were going to do it again.
The labor was more painful than your last, the baby weighed heavily on your abused pelvis and pressed against your tender insides. You couldn't help but writhe and scream when your body told you to push. The baby was bigger but something else felt wrong. The massive baby finally reached your abused opening. With a shaky hand you reached around your deflated stomach and felt for the head.
Instead, your blood ran cold as you felt the bottom of your baby. You almost let out a sob but was cut off by another painful contraction. You pushed hard. Then again. Then again. The baby barely moved each time. When you collapsed back after a contraction you decided it was time to move. Very shakily and gingerly you were able to pull yourself up into a squat. It was just the trick. The next contraction had you pushing hard. This time the baby stretched your lips open. You focused on keeping yourself from falling over as a distraction from the pain. The noises you made were purely animalistic at this point, grunts, moans, and screams all mixed together in an attempt to get the baby out.
The legs slipped free with the last push. Then the baby's body. The arms and head were still securely inside. You reached between your legs and tried to pull the arms free. Only to switch to plant them on the floor to help balance yourself as you push again. You didn't stop even when the contractions did. It was harder but the baby couldn't stay inside you much longer.
A blood curdling scream filled the room as you gave your last massive push your all. It worked and the baby popped free. You quickly gathered the baby and laid down on the floor as you held it close to your chest.
Do you have any mutual birth recs?? They don’t have to be just tumblr! I loved your recent writing and it’s my faveeee trope, I feel like it’s not written enough!
Hi anon!
Thanks for the kind words re my writing, I’m glad people liked it. Yeah it’s one of my fav tropes too, I think because it usually leads to a bit of birth denial from the mother, no physical stopping of the birth or anything, just loadssss of trying to delay the inevitable and the primal call of nature as they are focussing on someone else’s birth. It’s a perfect combo.
Anyway, here’s some of my recs that contain mutual labour/birth…. (in no particular order)
~*~
This post, by @hush-writes-preg
(Three heavily pregnant women trying to deny the fact they’re in labour during a quarantine / medical setting)
This story posted on @imagineyourepregnant
*Top tier mutual birth with birth denial* Ob-gyn in labour while delivering a patients baby. Fav
Labor Crisis by @birthedstars
A heavily pregnant doctor with triplets denying she’s in labour while she tends to other women giving birth.
This post by @morethanoverdue
Too Late To Reschedule by @bumpsandpushes
Absolute all time fav and imo the crème de la crème of this trope! I think this was the fic that made me love the idea of mutual preg. Cannot recommend this author enough. 💜
Same Boat by @gravid-transluna
Amazing writer in the birth kink sphere, highly recommend their work.
A Truer Dream by exponenshul (deviantart)
Mother-Daughter Day by doombez (deviantart)
This one gives me Father of the Bride Part II vibes, with the mother and daughter both pregnant and the birth scene.
About that birth fetish writing thingy. Could you do 14, twins, overdue, with a friend or partner please? 👉👈
During an important exam, twins, overdue, with a friend.
~
I kept having to shift my hips on the hard plastic chair, the top of the desk pressing uncomfortably into the tender area of my ribs where my belly once firmly sat before it dropped, now hanging nearly over my whole lap in a lopsided torpedo. I was so exhausted. I got almost no sleep yesterday between cramming as much as I could for the exam I was currently suffering through, and breathing through the braxton hicks and back twinges and bladder punches the twins put me through the whole evening and into the night. This was my midterm for the last gen ed class I had to take before graduating next semester, and the consequence for failing the class is either summer school or not graduating, neither of which were viable options, so I had to focus on the Intro to Philosophy and Logic test in front of me.
I groaned softly under my breath and then began to quietly pant as another cramp gripped my lower back and wrapped around my belly, setting my pencil down to rub my hand firmly across the broad side of my bump. These practice contractions are starting to get extremely annoying. And they had to be that, the baby book said that braxton hicks are relieved by walking around, and I spent hours last night pacing my tiny dorm as the cramps came over me in waves, not quite consistent in time enough to worry me any more than any other labor scare has in the past week I’ve been overdue. They had to be practice contractions that just happened to be getting closer and closer together... Just like the pressure over my hips and my pelvis had to be from the babies shifting around and not from my body slowly working them down. And like the very full feeling just above my cunt that had me clenching my muscles was obviously the need for a bathroom break. And also the spotting and light leaking that had me wearing a pad was normal spotting and not me losing my mucus plug during class earlier today. None of this had to do with the fact that these babies should have come a week ago, and my belly was dropped so low it rested between my knees.
I breathed out as the cramp released me, not noticing how much time had passed, and hurried to continue working on the essay portion of the exam in front of me. Thankfully the professor didn’t seem to notice anything either, her eyes firmly fixed on the enormous pile of research papers that sat in front of her, in the process of being read and graded. She also didn’t notice as a tiny, balled up shred of paper hit the back of my neck, forcing me to turn and look at my best friend in my track, who was suffering through this final gen ed with me. He raised an eyebrow at me and crudely mimicked the act of spreading his legs and motioning to something shooting out from between them, accompanied by a questioning thumbs up and thumbs down.
I rolled my eyes at him and turned back around to continue working, my essay about a fourth of the way through with a cool 45 minutes left to complete it. I had to focus, and I couldn’t let my friend or the damn babies distract me from doing well in this class. I can hear him sigh behind me, and can feel his gaze boring a hole in the back of my head, but elect to ignore him. I see my phone light up where it sits on top of my backpack, and a notification pops up on the lockscreen under his name.
| Dude, you can’t just ignore that you’re extremely overdue and literally actively about to pop out those babies, holy shit. |
A moment passes.
| I’m timing them, disphit. |
I grumbled, shaking my head and returning to furiously writing about Pythagoras and universal ratios.
After a while of scribbling, though not as long as I would have liked, I could feel my back muscles start to tighten up, and I try to squeeze my thighs shut on instinct. It’s an action that does more harm than good, as I squeeze my already contracting belly between my legs, and press it up against the hard surface of the desk’s bottom, the vice grip of my muscles tightening further in reaction to the external force. I let out a soft hiss and hunch over my drum tight belly, both hands frantically rubbing at my bloated flanks to try and soothe the pain, but it doesn’t help. The cramp lingers, and I’m forced to ride it out by breathing heavily through my nose. I’m bouncing lightly in my seat, my already sore and achy pussy twinging every time it grinds down into the plastic, but my hips feel so tight that I need to move them. I can feel one of the babies’ heads shift down to rest right over the base of my pelvis, head pressing down right between my hips, and it feels like if I move wrong it’ll just fall out of me. The other is still up higher, but I can tell its head is facing downward because it gives several firm kicks to my ribs, unhappy with the pressure squeezing around it and forcing it down.
There’s a light on my periphery.
| THAT WAS SIX MINUTES. HOSPITAL. NOW. |
I once more ignore his text, not even waiting for the contraction to end before I’m back to writing my essay, now at least half way done. I’ve always been a quick writer, and we were given a set of potential prompts beforehand, so I had an idea of what I wanted to write anyways. I could do this. I could finish this and then I could go to the hospital and have my babies.
I quietly groaned my way through another four contractions before I got to the conclusion of the essay, pausing every still-six-minutes-somehow to let out a steady stream of air in my nose and the back of my throat. The bouncing was consistent, except for when I had to stop to either swivel my hips, or slide a hand between my trembling thighs to apply pressure to where I could feel my lips starting to bulge a little. Fuck, the head was right there. I could feel it. I had been fighting the growing urge to push for the last three contractions, knowing that I probably was almost totally dilated, if not at 10 centimeters already. My phone had been blinking with light as well, my friend urging me to finish the exam later, telling me we needed to go now, asking if I was insane. I continued to ignore it, focusing on the last few lines I needed to fill out the end of my essay. I’d done it. The exam was over.
I put my pencil down, and let out a breath of release, my whole body naturally relaxing as the weight of academic failure was brushed off my shoulders. But that was a big mistake. As if sensing the permission it was being given, immediately my belly was caught in a vicious contraction that had me clinging to my desktop, with one hand clutching my bump in alarm as it was gripped in a cramp so strong that the outline of my uterus was visible, and the torpedo droop of it stood straight forward. I let out a hiss of pain through my teeth, tears immediately springing to my eyes as I felt the bulge in my pussy press further. I couldn’t help it as my legs shifted ever so slightly apart, and I let out a soft grunt.
*POP*
*Splash!*
The sound of my water breaking seemed gargantuan in the silence of the classroom, and immediately all eyes were on me, panting softly and holding my belly in both hands as a wet spot spread across the crotch of my pants and the carpet beneath me. I was flushed as I quickly gathered my backpack and handed in my exam, gesturing with my head for my best friend to follow. He scrambled after me, muttering apologies to the professor and assurances that he’d make up the exam later as he quickly moved to support me.
As soon as I got out of the lecture hall and into the hallway, I let myself moan. My massively overdue waddle was pronounced, legs bowed and gait heavy as I dripped a trail of amniotic fluid behind me, shuffling toward the exit as fast as I could.
“Holy shit, are you fucking nuts? I’m calling a fucking ambulance, your water broke, and we’re at least twenty minutes from the nearest hospital and I don’t think you have that long, idiot!” My friend grabbed my backpack from me, and I let him as I stopped right before we got to the exit, pausing our escape by putting a hand on his arm.
“What?” He asked, finger stilling over the call button.
I swallowed heavily, suddenly feeling like I might throw up.
“I definitely don’t have that long. The head’s coming out.” My voice was a mournful groan as I felt another contraction pull every muscle in my back and belly taut. I bent my knees and held a hand to my lower back, frantically squeezing at the tight muscles there as my other hand reached down into my sweatpants to cup my pussy where I could feel it starting to spread through my pad and underwear. Fuck, I was pushing. I didn’t mean to be, but it’s like I didn’t have a choice. There was so much pressure, and the baby was coming now. I whimpered a bit, squeezing my eyes shut to push once more before the contraction relented enough that I could start hobbling in the direction of the men’s room.
My friend quickly rushed after me, holding me by the elbow and one hip and ushering me along as his phone’s dial tone rang and rang and rang on speakerphone. As soon as I got to the restroom, my knees hit the tile. I ignored everything else around me. I grabbed my thighs, digging my nails into them as my back muscles screamed and my gravid stomach tightened so hard that I could see the shape of it change under my shirt, shifting up and under my ribs instead of hanging down low into my lap. I grunted with the effort as my body started to once more push against my will, eyes scrunching up as I finally gave in and let out a strangled moan.
One hand quickly moved from my thigh to my crotch as I felt the bulge in my panties grow. I was going to crown, and my pants were still on. I couldn’t speak while the contraction still gripped my body, reduced to grunts and groans and half-screams as I tried to work the first baby out of me, but I was able to pull down the waistband of my sweats enough that my friend realized what was going on. He quickly set down the phone, the first responder on the other line audible but incomprehensible to me as I panted between hellish contractions. All of a sudden, my friend's hands were there, gently yanking down my sweats and starting to roll my maternity panties down my thighs. My fingers found their way back to my pussy, where I could feel the baby’s head was almost at a full
crown, and I moaned at the feeling of being stretched in that way.
“Oh god, it’s almost out. Oh fuck, oh fuck, I’ve gotta- I’ve gotta… Hhh? HhhhHHHNNNNNG.”
My knees slid as far apart as they could with my sweatpants still around them, and immediately my whole body was on fire.
“HHHHHNNNNNNNNG oh god, burning, burning, the head-”
I groaned, and leaned forward my belly drum tight but still massive enough to brush the cool tile. My hand was trapped between my bump and the floor, fingers trying to help spread myself open as the head inched forward and backwards through my stretching cunt. I let out another frantic grunt and suddenly the tile under me was slick with the gush of fluid that accompanied my baby’s head. My friend’s warm palm gently rubbed my lower back where my muscles were cramping with the residual shock of my last contraction, and I could hear him whispering words of encouragement to me.
“Ohhhhhhh, it’s out, it’s almost out, please, god, my belly, please!”
He seemed to understand what I meant, and his arm around me to rub firm circles into my flank as I panted and rested, waiting for another contraction to help me shove the rest of my baby out. For a fleeting moment, it was just him holding me while I breathed. And then I felt my body tense once more and knew this was it. My spine hunched and belly jumped as I let out a series of short, sharp grunts, slowly forcing my baby out of me inch by inch until…
“UGH UGH UGH UGH UNGH HHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
The head shoved my hand out, and soon the body spilled after, the shoulders twisting as they pushed past my burning, aching pussy.
My friend let go of me, quickly catching the baby before it could hit the cold tile floor, and instantly the sound of crying echoed through the bathroom. Tears streamed down my face as a wave of relief rushed over me, and I fell backwards onto my ass so I could reach out for my baby, cord still connected. My friend quickly handed him over, and I swiped my finger around his mouth and nose, clearing his airways, before I suddenly remembered. My baby, a little boy, rested atop my still-occupied belly. I moaned, suddenly aware of how sore I was down there, and dread crept up my spine.
“I can’t… I can’t do this again. I can’t.”
My friend looked at me with such sadness and pity in his eyes.
“The ambulance should be here in about five, if you can hold off that long.”
I paused, taking assessment of my body. I still felt like I needed to push, but it wasn’t quite as urgent. The second head was still right there behind my lips, and I could feel the heavy bulge in my pelvis. I nodded, and he let out a breath of relief, kneeling down to put an arm around my shoulders to help support me while I held my son to my chest. Five minutes doesn’t seem like much time at all, in the grand scheme of things. I could make it five minutes. Of course I could.
I could ignore the tell-tale tightening of my lower back, my whole body tensing in response. I could ignore the need to shift my hips that left me wiggling my bare ass against the slick bathroom tiles. I could ignore the subtle spread of my legs as the pressure, the insane amount of pressure, quickly ratcheted up. I clearly wasn’t doing a good job hiding my discomfort, because immediately my friend’s hand went to my bump and rubbed it as if he could convince it to relax.
“Nononononono! No, you cannot have another baby in this bathroom! One bathroom baby is enough! You gotta hold it.”
By this point I was panting, trying so hard not to give in and start pushing. I shifted my baby to one arm, my free hand coming to join his in rubbing my contracting belly as I let out a moan of despair and frustration.
“ I can’t! Pressure! The pressure-! I’ve gotta push! It’s right there, the head is right there, I gotta… gotta… oooooooooh… ooooOOOOOOHHHHHHH FFFFFFFFFUUUU-”
In an instant, my legs were as far open as I could spread them, and I felt the tell tale sting of a baby’s head starting to inch its way past my lips, bulging out my pussy as I pushed with all my might. I screamed as the
contraction didn’t let up, keeping my muscles locked tight in one long push that seemed to last forever, until I heard the now-familiar sound of fluid hitting the bathroom floor. The head was out. In one push, the head was out. I groaned as it spread me open, keeping my thighs apart as my weight rested pretty much entirely on my friend, who whispered a faint ‘holy shit’ behind me as I panted and shifted my hips.
It was almost over. A few more good pushes and it would all be done. And it didn’t take long. Before I even had a chance to catch my breath, a vice-grip caught my worn out muscles, and there was nothing I could do to resist my body’s animalistic pull to grunt and scream and cry and push with every last ounce of strength I had. I could feel the stretch and pull of my pussy as I forcibly shoved with all my might, my teeth gritted and legs butterflied out as my baby’s body hung out between them, shoulders free.
“GET OUT GET OUT GET OUUUUUUUT!”
I screeched. And just like that, it was over. My baby slid out onto the tile between my blood and fluid covered thighs, which trembled with exhaustion as my body finally relaxed. And then there was crying. My second baby boy.
The EMTs arrived another five minutes after that (a time I now know I never could have waited), and traveled me, my children, and their newly appointed godfather to the hospital to make sure the three of us were healthy. Thankfully there were no complications.
A month later, I received my graded essay. It was a B+ with an added note. Bonus points raising it to an A.
Perfectly comprehensive points. Perhaps next time, try not to have your baby in my class?
- Prof. Roberts.
"You gonna cry if I don't fuck you right now?" Sam's voice was low, rough, fingers already tightening in Jesse's hair where he knelt between his thighs.
Jesse's swollen belly pressed heavy against the floor, his leaking nipples leaving wet streaks on the hardwood. He whined, high and needy, thighs trembling as he tried to spread them wider despite the awkward weight of his pregnancy. "Please Sam, c'mon, I need it." His words dissolved into a choked gasp when Sam's foot nudged his cunt, the pressure just shy of cruel.
Sam grinned down at him, thumb tracing the flushed curve of Jesse's ear. "Look at you. All that fucking belly and you still wanna be my little hole." His other hand dipped lower, calloused fingers smearing slick between Jesse's folds, teasing his entrance without pushing in. "Bet you'd come just from me spitting on you right now."
Jesse's hips jerked, desperate, his swollen clit rubbing against Sam's instep. His chest heaved, sweat glistening along the stretch marks mapping his stomach. "Fuck yes, yes, anything, just use me." The plea broke off into a shuddering moan when Sam finally shoved two fingers inside, crooking them hard against that sweet spot.
Sam laughed, dark and possessive, twisting his wrist just to watch Jesse's thighs clamp around his forearm. "God, you're fucking shameless. Look at you, dripping all over my hand. You're just a knocked up bitch in heat." He dragged his thumb over Jesse's throbbing clit, slow, deliberate, relishing the way Jesse's breath hitched. "Think you can take my cock while I milk you?"
Jesse's answering sob was muffled against Sam's thigh, his teeth sinking into the denim as his body convulsed. Lubricant soaked his inner thighs, his cunt pulsing around Sam's fingers. The sharp sting of Sam's palm against his nipple sent shockwaves straight to his clit. He arched, keening, his swollen belly sat between them.
Sam's free hand fisted in Jesse's hair, yanking his head back to expose the desperate flutter of his throat. "Gonna fuck you raw," he growled, thumb pressing cruel circles into Jesse's clit. "Gonna fill you up till you're dripping me for days." Jesse's broken moan was all the encouragement he needed.
The first thrust punched the air from Jesse's lungs. Sam's cock stretching him obscenely, the thick head grinding deep inside. Jesse's belly heaved, twin kicks protesting the brutal pace as Sam bottomed out. "F-fuck, Sam, please." His nails scraped the floorboards, his cunt clenching like a vice around the ruthless drag of Sam's shaft.
Sam's teeth grazed Jesse's shoulder, his palm cupping the heavy swell of Jesse's belly possessively. "Take it," he snarled, hips pistoning, the wet slap of skin echoing off the walls. "Take my cock like the greedy slut you are." Jesse's thighs trembled, his nipples spurting thin streams of milk across Sam's forearm with each punishing thrust.
The orgasm ripped through Jesse like a live wire. His scream choked off as Sam clamped a hand over his mouth. "Quiet," Sam panted, fingers digging into Jesse's jaw. "You don't get to come without me." Jesse sobbed around the intrusion, his cunt pulsing as Sam's hips stuttered, his groan hot against Jesse's ear. "Gonna breed you all over again, boy."
Jesse's belly tightened under Sam's grip, the twins rolling violently as Sam slammed home one last time. Heat flooded Jesse's core with Sam's cum spilling deep, his cock twitching inside as he milked every drop into Jesse's clenching hole. "Look at that," Sam rasped, dragging two fingers through the mess dripping down Jesse's thighs. "Made you even fuller."
Collapsed against the floor, Jesse gasped as Sam's thumb circled his oversensitive clit, the pressure just shy of painful. "Still hard?" Sam chuckled darkly, pinching the swollen bud until Jesse jerked. "You're fucking insatiable." Jesse whined, hips hitching weakly. His body was still burning, still needing, even as Sam pulled out with a filthy wet sound.
Sam's palm smacked Jesse's ass, the sharp sting drawing another broken moan. "Clean me up," he ordered, shoving his slick cock against Jesse's lips. Jesse opened eagerly, tongue lapping at the bitter mix of their cum as Sam's fingers tangled in his hair. "Good boy," Sam murmured, watching Jesse's throat work. "Gonna keep you like this all night."
Jesse whimpered around Sam's cock, his belly shifting as the twins kicked. Sam chuckled, dragging Jesse's head back to let saliva drip down his chest and begin to pool on his stomach. "You want more?" His thumb pressed down, grinding Jesse's oversensitive nub until the pregnant man's hips jerked. "Thought you couldn't take it."
The second orgasm hit like a freight train. Jesse's scream muffled by Sam's cock as his cunt pulsed around nothing, milk dribbled from his chest in erratic spurts. Sam groaned, shoving deeper down Jesse's throat. "Fuck, look at you. You're like a fucking animal." His hips jerked forward, fingers tightening. "Swallow, boy."
Jesse's body trembled, wrecked and pliant as Sam pulled out, cum dripping from his chin. Sam guided him up by the hips, flipping him onto his back with a grunt. Jesse's legs fell open instinctively, his blown pupils tracking Sam's smirk. "Round two," Sam said, pressing two fingers into Jesse's dripping hole, scissoring them wide. "Let's see how much more you can take, incubator."
Sam's palm smoothed over Jesse's belly, tracing the form of a fully grown baby beneath flushed skin. "My kin," Sam murmured, pressing harder, in a way just shy of cruel. Jesse arched, his swollen clit throbbing at the rough touch. "I can't believe how big you are. You're so full, baby. They know what you're built for." Jesse moaned, his hips jerking as Sam circled his entrance with a thumb, teasing. "God, you're fucking dripping again. So needy."
Sam leaned down, biting Jesse's nipple hard enough to make him yelp. Milk sprayed across Jesse's chest, mixing with sweat as Sam lapped it up with slow, deliberate strokes. "My pregnant boy." Sam growled against Jesse's skin, dragging his cock through the mess between Jesse's thighs. "Bet I could fuck another load into you before you even settle." Jesse's breath hitched and his body clenched around nothing, desperate.
Sam's laughter was dark as he pinned Jesse's wrists, his cockhead pressing against Jesse's stretched rim. "Beg," he ordered, watching Jesse's belly jump under his grip. "Show me how bad you need it." Jesse's sob was ragged, his thighs shaking. "Please fuck, please, Sam, I need..." Sam slammed home, cutting him off with a punched out moan. Jesse's belly bulged obscenely, pushing forward as Sam bottomed out. "That's it," Sam snarled. "Take it all."
Jesse's nipples pulsed, milk streaking his chest in erratic arcs as Sam fucked into him, each thrust jostling his swollen belly. Sam groaned, dragging his tongue through the mess. "Look at you," Sam panted, fingers digging into Jesse's hips. "Dripping everywhere like a fucking dairy cow."
The orgasm tore through Jesse with a broken cry. His filled cunt clamping down, milk dribbling onto Sam's chest as his body convulsed. Sam's thrusts turned brutal, hips snapping erratically. "Gonna...fuck..." Sam's groan was raw, his cock pulsing as he emptied into Jesse's clenching heat. Jesse whined, oversensitive and shaking, but Sam didn't stop. He just gripped his belly tighter, grinding deep. "Not done," Sam growled. "Still so fucking tight."
Jesse's legs trembled when Sam pulled out. Sam dragged him onto his side, spooning behind him with a possessive arm across his belly. Jesse whimpered as Sam's fingers traced his swollen clit. "Rest, baby," Sam murmured, biting Jesse's shoulder. "Five minutes." Jesse shuddered, his body still thrumming. Sam's cock pressed hot against his ass. "Then I'm filling you again."
Four minutes later, Sam propped himself up on one elbow, lazily slapping his cock against Jesse's parted lips. "Open for daddy," he ordered. Jesse obeyed instantly, tongue darting out but Sam pulled back before he could suck, smearing precum across Jesse's cheek instead. Jesse whined, hips jerking uselessly. "Pathetic," Sam chuckled, tapping the thick head against Jesse's leaking nipple. Milk dribbled down Jesse's chest as Sam teased, his cock sliding through the mess, never letting Jesse taste properly. "Look at you," Sam growled. "So eager. I bet you wish I could knock you up even more." Jesse nodded frantically and wiggled himself instinctively.
Jesse arched when Sam dragged his cock down the taut curve of his belly, slapping his shaft against Jesse's stretched skin. Jesse sobbed, hands clawing the sheets. His cunt pulsed, empty and aching. Sam smirked, pinching Jesse's clit between two fingers. "You want it?" he taunted, watching Jesse's thighs shake. "Then take it." He rolled Jesse onto his back, spreading his legs, but instead of fucking him, Sam pressed his cock against Jesse's oversensitive hole, rubbing in slow circles without pushing in. Jesse's scream was raw. "Sam, please."
Sam laughed, gripping Jesse's throat. "Beg. Beg more." His thumb pressed into Jesse's t-dick, cruel and slow. Jesse's belly heaved, his body near convulsing. Sam groaned, finally shoving back inside to the hilt. Jesse's legs locked around his waist instantly. "Fucking greedy," Sam snarled, hips pistoning. Jesse's nails raked down Sam's back, his hole clenching, his belly jostling with each brutal thrust. Sam leaned down to Jesse's ear. "Gonna wreck you." Jesse sobbed in agreement.
Sam forced Jesse onto his hands and knees, his belly hung heavy between his thighs, swaying obscenely with every bounce. Sam palmed the swollen curve, fingers splayed over endless stretch marks as he guided Jesse's movements. "Look at you," Sam panted, watching Jesse's cunt stretch around his cock. "Can't even take it slow." Jesse whined, his body weak, but Sam just gripped his hips tighter, forcing him down harder. The slap of skin echoed wet and relentless. Jesse's nipples dragged against the sheets, leaving sticky trails. Sam thumbed his clit. "Come."
Jesse's scream was muffled by the mattress. His pussy spasmed, milk flowing from his chest as Sam fucked him through it. "Take it," Sam growled, fingers tightening around Jesse's belly. Jesse gasped, oversensitive and shaking. Sam didn't stop. He dragged Jesse upright, back flush against his chest, and reached around to pinch Jesse's clit. Jesse's sob turned into a shriek as Sam's other hand twisted his nipple, cum leaked from his hole, his body betraying him with another forced climax.
Sam pulled out, watching Jesse collapse forward. His belly pressed into the mattress, his hole fluttering empty. Sam smacked his ass, leaving a red handprint. "Turn over." Jesse whimpered, barely able to move, but Sam hauled him onto his back, spreading his legs as much as the pregnant man could. Sam's cock glistened, slick with Jesse's cum. Jesse's legs trembled violently as Sam pressed back in. He was slow this time, savoring the way Jesse's body engulfed him. "Fuck," Sam breathed, hips rolling. Jesse's belly jumped and Sam palmed it possessively, grinding deeper. "Gonna keep you like this forever." Jesse moaned, dazed and pliant. Sam's thumb circled his clit. "Don't stop," Jesse slurred. Sam laughed darkly. "Wasn't planning to."
Jesse's hands slid over Sam's, his fingers interlacing with Sam's grip on his swollen stomach. His belly was so enormous now, his skin stretched taut and flushed, that he couldn't see past it. Sam's thrusts jostled him, the twins unmoving inside, due to the lack of space they now had. Jesse whined, rocking his hips clumsily trying to take more, but too swollen to move properly. Sam groaned, gripping Jesse's belly tighter. "Daddy," Jesse gasped, his voice wrecked. Sam smirked, tongue flicking Jesse's nipple. "Say it again." Jesse sobbed. "Daddy please." Sam's hips snapped harder and Jesse's belly bounced obscenely. "That's it," Sam spat. "Take it."
Jesse tried to push down, tried to meet Sam's thrusts, but his belly was too big, his body too heavy. Sam pinned his wrists, fucking into him with brutal efficiency. Jesse's nipples leaked, milk dripping onto the bed. Sam licked a stripe up Jesse's chest, salty-sweet. Jesse arched, his belly pressing against Sam's flat stomach, and his hole clenching desperately. "Daddy," he whimpered. Sam groaned, his cock pulsing inside Jesse's clenching heat. "Fuck. say it again." Jesse sobbed. "Daddy please." Sam came with a snarl, his cum spilling deep. His fingers pressed white prints into Jesse's belly. "Good boy. Such a good boy." Jesse's thighs trembled, his cunt fluttered, his belly shifted. Sam didn't pull out. He just leaned down, kissing Jesse aggressively.
Sam dragged Jesse onto his side, his belly jutting obscenely over the edge of the bed, his cunt stretched tight around Sam's cock. Sam stayed upright with his fingers steady on Jesse's belly. Jesse's legs shook, his thighs slick and his nipples dripping onto the sheets.
Sam's thrusts were slow and deliberate, each drag of his cock stretching Jesse's swollen rim obscenely. Jesse's belly bounced and Sam laughed, pressing his palm flat. "Greedy," he murmured, his hips snapping harder, watching Jesse's body jolt. "Already full of babies and you want even more." Jesse sobbed and dug his nails into the mattress. "Daddy," he gasped, his voice wrecked. "I love you, daddy."
Jesse's belly tightened, a sharp clench that made his breath hitch. Sam stilled, fingers pressing into the taut skin as a contraction rolled through Jesse's body. "Fuck," Sam growled, his cock twitching inside Jesse's pulsing hole. "You gonna pop my babies out while I'm still buried in you?" Jesse whimpered, his hips rocking clumsily, torn between the need to labor and the need to be fucked. Sam chuckled darkly, rolling his hips in slow, deliberate circles. "Guess we'll find out."
The next contraction hit harder and Jesse's tensed, his nails raking down Sam's chest as his body clenched violently. Sam groaned, dragging his cock deeper, savoring the way Jesse's hole fluttered around him with each wave of pressure. "That's it," Sam murmured, kissing Jesse's collarbone. "Squeeze me like you're pushing out our babies."
Sam's palm smoothed over Jesse's belly, fingers digging into the tight curve as another contraction built. "Come for me," he ordered, thumb pressing cruel circles into Jesse's clit. Jesse screamed in frustration, his cunt clamping down. Sam fucked him through it, his thrusts shallow and relentless, his cock pulsing deep as Jesse's hole spasmed around him. "Good boy," Sam rasped, licking the sweat from Jesse's throat.
Jesse clawed at Sam's shoulders, his thighs shaking, his belly tightening obscenely with each contraction. "Daddy please..." he sobbed, hips rocking, desperate for friction, for release, for anything to ease the pressure building inside him. Sam growled, pinning Jesse's wrists, his cock deep, his free hand massaging Jesse's stretched skin. "You're about to pop, boy," Sam said, his voice rough, his hips still rolling slow.
Dave the handyman knows he’s in labor, but he thinks he has time for one last service call before he delivers his twins. He does not. ❤️
content: unassisted birth, birth denial (trying not to push), clothing birth
It had been a long drive out, nearly an hour. Dave swore he could feel every minute burned between his legs, the incredible weight of his full-term twins forcing his thighs apart, leaving all the pressure to converge at his crotch. He had to adjust the seat all the way back to account for the forward protrusion of his belly, too, leaving his calves and already-swollen ankles aching from reaching for the pedals, and his back twinging with the effort of leaning just a few inches forward while burdened so heavily.
He groaned, pressing both hands to his overalls as his belly stirred beneath, the domed surface going lopsided around his shifting babies. They hadn’t been moving as much this past week, cramped by the increasingly inadequate confines of his womb, but they could still make a ruckus if they really put their minds to it.
“Now, settle down, kids,” he murmured, rubbing soothing circles over the vast side of his belly. “Papa’s almost done for the day. Then we can— augh.” The surface of his abdomen drew suddenly taut, a cramp wrapping around his torso and pushing into his lower back. He held onto the boulder his belly had become and tried to breathe through the pain, slow and deep, in the nose and out the mouth.
Finally his muscles untensed, and he fell back in his seat, winded. He glanced at the client’s house and grimaced. It was just one last job, probably only replacing a part, if he had diagnosed the problem correctly. He could be in and out in twenty minutes, tops. What was twenty minutes, when he’d already been enduring these contractions for hours? Sure, they’d been starting to get a bit more intense, but this was his first birth, so he probably still had hours of labor ahead of him. He’d have plenty of time.
“Alright,” he sighed. He stroked his belly. “Let’s stay put, okay, kids? Keep Papa company just a little longer.”
Then he began the arduous process of getting out of his truck. It was undignified scooting until he got half of his ass off the seat, then he had to wedge a hand under his belly and hold it up while he turned, so that it didn’t drop off the seat and pull his back. Finally, gripping the door frame with his other hand, he stepped down, and released a winded oof as his body protested keeping itself upright while so overburdened. His back bowed, and even his chest bounced a little with the impact, the bit of breast tissue left over after his top surgery now swollen with milk.
Though sitting for so long left him sore and cramping, getting on his feet made him acutely feel every change of his impending fatherhood. He swore he could sense his hips settling even further apart in real time, the bottom-most twin an imminent weight deep in his pelvis, her tiny head generating a disproportionate amount of pressure on all his tender parts.
He spent a minute or so stretching, but there wasn’t much to be done when a body was this pregnant, so he pulled his tool kit from the back of his truck and began his waddle up to the house. Though, at this point, it was more of a trudge, the cuteness of his rocking posture diminished by how hard it was to get his work boots off the ground. By the time he reached the door, he was breathing heavy from just those few steps, a hand wedged to his aching back. He nudged the doorbell with the corner of his tool box.
A big guy answered the door, probably in his late 20s or early 30s, clean-cut, and didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary until they shook hands and his eyes fell to Dave’s huge belly below. He stared for a moment—everyone always did—before clearing his throat.
“Uh- yeah, uh, come on in— Mister?” His eyes flicked between Dave’s belly and his upper lip, where a thick, well-groomed mustache grew. “Uh, Mister…?”
“Dave,” he supplied, a little tired, but mostly used to this by now.
That was always the most awkward moment since he began to show: strangers grappling with the sight of a clearly pregnant man. After two decades of being stealth, it was a little difficult to know that anyone who looked at him would see his belly and know that he had a womb. And then—the men, especially—would have the next logical thought, and realize there must be a pussy between his legs. He could only guess how frequently even the most unassuming man would think of his cunt. Some of them, he was pretty sure that was all they thought about when they looked at him.
This one was nice, at least, and even tried to offer him a cushion to kneel on for his work. Dave graciously declined, showing off the padded mat he had added to his toolkit about six months ago. The client still looked uneasy, and tried to help him kneel down, then got him a glass of water he didn’t ask for, and finally asked outright if Dave was sure he was up to this.
Dave waved him off, saying aloud that he felt great, internally begging the client to leave before he had another contraction.
Finally the guy left him to it, saying that he needed to run an errand but he’d be back before Dave was done.
No sooner had the client left than Dave’s belly drew horribly tight. He gasped and clutched both it and the nearby counter, and made a strangled, bemused noise as he found his bump just as hard as the marble under his other hand. The pain grew and the pressure tightened until a whine began to build in his chest, ready to break through his teeth at any moment— then suddenly his muscles let up, leaving him gasping and a little dizzy, a chill washing through his limbs.
“Right, okay,” he mumbled, rubbing his bump. He needed to hurry this up. He took a deep breath and exhaled very deliberately, then began to kneel. The process was arduous, his knees threatening to give between the mass of his belly and the breadth of his hips.
Every inch he got closer to the ground, the deeper the weight in his pelvis settled, until it felt like the baby would fall right out of him. Or shoot out, if he sneezed. He knew from experience that it was much more likely that he might have a little accident, but he didn’t want to tempt fate with these contractions ramping up. So, he exhaled shakily and tried to keep his legs together. He just needed to do his job.
His job, as it turned out, was not nearly as simple as he expected. What he thought would be a single part change turned out to be an entire set of pipes that would need to be replaced, but the wood of the surrounding cabinets was so old that it would surely not survive that kind of work. The whole thing needed to be redone. That was a job for another person at another time, but he couldn’t very well leave things in this state when a leak like this was costing his client dozens of dollars a day on the water bill. In this economy?! He had to do something. Maybe he could—
“Hoh—“ He buckled forward, both hands clinging to the lip of the counter above as a contraction gripped him. A low, thin hum grew in his chest as he bore the vice, his fingers cramping. It left him panting when it passed. He dropped a hand to his belly, to the side that had gone wonky and pointy as his descending children protested being squeezed.
“Slow down, kids,” he whispered, chest heaving. “Give Papa a little more time.”
Once he caught his breath, he pulled a mask and spackling out of his bag. With his face protected from fumes and potential rot, he leaned forward—grunting as his belly pressed against the mat, as his twins’ weight stung his spine—and got to patching up the worst of the leakage.
Speaking of leakage… leaning forward like this, his chest felt incredibly tight and heavy. He wouldn’t be surprised if he took off his overalls after this and found sweet colostrum staining the inside of his undershirt. Good. He would be ready to feed his babies.
He got a good bit of spackling done before the next contraction. This one was the hardest yet. The air evacuated his lungs, forcing out a gravelly sound as his throat drew tight. On his hands and knees like this, the tension was the worst in his back, strung through his tailbone all the way to his anus.
When it had mostly passed, he unclenched his hands, and found his left trembling, with the shape of the spackling tool indented in his palm. He set it thoughtlessly aside and put both hands flat to the floor of the cabinet, needing leverage to follow his body’s instinct to rock back and forth on all fours. His lower back especially still felt horribly tight, and the pressure in his belly had only grown. But the rocking relieved some of the tension in his lumbar region and hips, though every shift backward made him feel like the baby might pop right out of him.
Releasing a trembling sigh, he picked his tool up and got back to work. The sooner he could finish, the sooner he’d be out of here.
He didn’t know how long he worked. In the back of his mind was a voice screaming that he should be timing these contractions, that he needed to leave for the hospital now, given how far they were from civilization. But at the forefront of his mind was the task. He just had to finish this. Then he would get in his truck and drive to the hospital and it would all be fine. There was time. There had to be. Sweat dripped from his forehead and his belly strained like it carried solid lead and his hips felt like they might not survive standing up, but there would be time.
Finally, he finished the work. It wasn’t his best, but it was pretty good considering how many times he had been interrupted by his other labor.
Dreading the ordeal of getting back on his feet, he crawled around gathering his things, belly dragging on the floor. He whimpered out a curse as another contraction took him, wringing out a deep, throaty moan.
“Ohhhh, ho, hoh- no, oh no,” he panted, leaning back into it until his rock-hard belly rested on his thighs. The angle helped his hips but made him feel so tight from his perineum to his lower back, granting him a sickening insight into exactly where his child’s head was angled. It hurt so *bad*, he didn’t even know if he could sit down like this, let alone drive.
By the time he realized he had broken the cardinal rule of laboring—keep your breathing calm—he was already panting. His head swam and he was starting to feel sick and the waves of panic left his limbs tingling. He didn’t have time. He needed an ambulance.
He reached into his pocket for his phone… wait. Where was it? Oh god. He patted over his many pockets, but already he could envision his cell still docked above his radio, where he’d left it, back in the truck.
“No, no, no, no,” he panted. How could he make a mistake like that?! “Dave, you dummy, you- you…” he couldn’t even think of another word for how foolish he was, all he could think of was the pressure, the weight, the inevitable forcing his body wide open.
“Calm down,” he mumbled, swiping the sweat from his brow. There was nothing else to do, now; he just had to get the phone.
Well— first, he had to get up.
Trying to even his breathing, he reached for the counter again and got his arms situated against the marble edge. Then he counted one, two, three, and heaved himself up. Or, he tried to. He barely even unbent his legs before his struggling lower back and split-open abs failed, his anvil of a belly pulling him back into a squat. The sensation of the baby plummeting punched a wheeze out of him and made his stomach lurch, and for a moment he thought the head must have actually popped out before he realized he would definitely know if that had happened.
He muttered, “Keep your head on, Dave,” and shifted his boots further apart before trying again. With a colossal groan, trembling limbs, and a full ten seconds of effort, he finally made it back to his feet. He leaned against the counter while he caught his breath, clutching his heaving belly with one hand.
But he didn’t stay upright for long. The next contraction came already, and he barely had time to eke out a noise of dismay before the pain bent him against the counter, the breath forced out of him as the tension pulled his chest towards his belly. His elbows caught him on the marble, but that jarring pain was a mere tickle compared to the sensation of every muscle in his lower body working to tear a hole inside of him. The sheer energy required for the contraction generated heat all through his crushed guts and pinched stomach, and he gagged, whimpering as he swallowed against the urge to vomit on his client’s beautiful counter.
Finally, it ended. His whole body trembled, his sweat speckling the marble. He only lifted his weary head because that kept the bile from rushing up his throat.
Much like being on his knees, bending over the counter like this felt oddly natural, keeping his pelvic bones splayed wide. He wanted desperately to stay there, but the fear of doing the rest of this alone gave him the strength to push upright on shivering arms. So, a hand to his spasming back and one rubbing his belly, he waddle-trudged to the door.
Though he’d feared the trek to his vehicle, it was actually a bit of a relief. Apparently all of that about walking being good for labor was true; it stretched his muscles and made his loosened hips feel even more open. The sensation of his baby oscillating with each step wasn’t necessarily good, but it was its own kind of relief, a bit of variety in the never-relenting pressure.
Finally, he made it to his truck. He leaned heavily on the trusty old girl as he rounded the hood towards the driver’s side. He opened the door and stared at the step up into the high cab before deciding he wasn’t up to climbing. Instead he turned to his side, moving his belly out of the way, and reached over the seat for his phone.
Of course, that was when the next one hit.
The tension and the pain converged on him again, nearly as bad as last time. But there was another feeling, one that took him by surprise too much to resist: the need to push.
His hands fell to his thighs. Knees bending, lungs swelling, head ducking, he instinctively narrowed every muscle down towards his abdomen. The pressure he’d thought couldn’t get any worse somehow did, made him feel like he was about to burst and implode all at once as it inched lower, reigniting the tension near his tailbone and shooting down to his asshole. A deep sound buzzed in his chest, his voice seeping out unchecked as the effort took him over. Deliriously, he thought about how proud he’d been when HRT first lowered his voice, and how he never would have imagined hearing his new baritone strain as he pushed a child into the world.
The contraction eased up, and he stopped pushing, light-headed, limbs tingling, gasping for breath. “Haaa… fu- huh… ohhh…”
Wow, yeah, that definitely was a head in his vagina. The obstruction made him feel a bit delirious, made him want to fall against the truck and twist and wail and squirm and push until it was out. But he couldn’t afford that kind of tantrum, and he knew enough not to push without a contraction, let alone standing over a gravel driveway in the middle of nowhere.
“Alright, Dave, stand up,” he mumbled.
He unbent his legs, but couldn’t bring himself to straighten out his back and lose the relief of his tilted pelvis. That made it a bit of a reach up into the tall cab for the phone. He almost knocked it out of its dock with his unsteady hand, but he managed to curl his fingers around it. It took him a few tries to successfully pull up the keypad and dial. As it rang, he dropped his arms to the seat and rested his forehead on them, hips instinctively swaying, belly heaving gently as he struggled to keep his breathing in check.
A calm voice came over the speaker. “911, what is your emergency?”
He gasped in relief, head snapping up. “Hey! Hey, hello, yes, I’m in labor. Baby’s coming faster than I thought. I need an ambulance.”
“Your wife is in labor?”
His heart sank towards his stomach, a long plunging sensation for such a cramped amount of space. “No, no, I am. I’m having twins.”
“Sir, are you aware it can be a class four felony to make a fraudulent 911 call?”
This far into his life as a transgender man, Dave wouldn’t have thought this sort of thing could get to him anymore. But with a child forcing him apart, it made him gasp a helpless sob.
“No, no, don’t hang up, please, my name is Dave, I’m transgender, as in I- I used to be a woman, but, I-I’m a man now, I just still have a- you know, a uterus, and I- I’m pregnant with my first - with twins, 36 weeks and- four days I think? I thought I had time, I thought - but the first baby is coming, I think I need to start pushing, and—“
“Whoa, whoa, okay, hey, it’s alright. You’re alright, I’m not hanging up. I apologize, sir. I’m here to help you. Can you give me your address?”
“Uh… shoot, I’m- I’m on a job, I have to…” he pulled the phone away from his ear and fumbled through apps before he got the map back up. He read the address off.
“Okay. I’m sending an ambulance to your location. Now, you said you feel like you need to push?”
“Yeah,” he rasped. “I don’t think it’ll take much. She- the baby’s through my cervix, definitely, she feels low- really, really low.”
“How long have you felt like you needed to push?”
“Uh- well, not long, just one contraction so far. But it was- it was really intense. And I’ve been having, um, bad contractions for a while.”
“Okay. How far apart?”
“I haven’t been timing them. Uh… maybe four or five minutes apart before, but now? Less than three. Maybe even two.”
“Okay. Is there anyone there who can assist you?”
He looked forlornly at the tree-lined road winding empty towards the horizon. “Nobody for miles.”
“Okay, that’s okay. Can you reach your vagina, sir?”
He looked down, and groaned a soft, wavering sound at the sheer mass filling his overalls. “I dunno. My belly is so big…”
“Alright. Can you try for me?”
“Oh, jeez. Okay. Uh…” He set the phone down, then stretched an arm out and dug his nails around the leather piping on the opposite side of the car’s seat, anchoring himself. Then he shifted his feet back to deepen his bend, puffing his cheeks with a loud exhalation as he slid his other hand down his immense side.
It strained his shoulder and left him wheezing, but he finally managed the seemingly impossible task of getting his hand between his legs. With some wriggling and the help of a foot lifted onto the truck’s stair, he was able to reach the warm center of his crotch, where his vaginal opening hid beneath layers of canvas and cotton.
“Okay— ah- sh- shoot- okay, I can reach.” He hissed through his teeth. “Barely.”
“Alright, when you insert your fingers, do you feel your baby’s head?”
“Uh… I can’t do that. I’m in overalls.”
“…Can you get them off?”
“Oh.” He withdrew the hand from between his legs. “Let me see if I can…” He reached for the clasp of his overall strap. Teeth clenched, he struggled with the little thing and cursed himself for not choosing something easier to get in and out of. He’d barely been able to get the damn things off and back on when he took his bathroom break before the drive, and now, with his underbelly distended all the way to his pelvis by his descending child, the fabric was pulled far too sharply to get any leverage for lifting the clasps.
It wasn’t until he heard a concerned, “Don’t strain yourself,” over the phone that he realized he was making a thin, forceful noise in his throat, and his forehead was actually quite hot with the built-up effort. He let go of the strap with a huff and found himself panting.
“Shit,” he said, then, “sorry. Shoot.”
“What happened?”
“I think I’m stuck in my overalls. My- my belly’s changed shape since I put them on, and it’s made them too tight. I can’t undo the clasps now. Heck,” he added, with one last vehement pull of the denim strap. “Okay, okay, I’ve got shears with me, so- maybe I can cut myself out of them?”
“That sounds like a good plan, as long as you’re careful.”
“Right.” He looked to his trunk, where he kept his tool kit.
Where it currently was not, because he took it inside for the job.
“Oh, no,” he mumbled.
“What?”
“They’re inside. My tools are.”
“That’s okay. It might seem difficult, but it’s recommended to walk during labor.”
Dave grimaced, but he knew from experience that the operator was right. The operator… “Hey- sorry, I didn’t ask your name.”
“Oh! Uh, Henry.”
“Nice to meet you, Henry. I’m Dave.”
“Dave, right. Hi, Dave.”
“Hi. I’m gonna stick you in my pocket while I head inside, okay?
“Okay. Just watch your step, you don’t want to fall right now.”
“Okay, Hen.”
He looked up towards the house, considering the length of the journey, while he reached for his phone. Eyes elsewhere, he didn’t realize he missed his pocket until he heard the case knock against the stair of the truck and hit the gravel below.
All instinct and pregnancy-brained impulse, he squatted down to pick it up. By the time he realized what he was doing, it was too late to change tracks; the enormous weight of his belly was already dragging him down. A helpless groan punched out of him as his legs hit their deepest squat and the weight inside him lurched down, straining his crotch, so low he was sure it must be just behind his pussy lips.
“Oh, jeez,” he panted, “oh god, oh jeez, oh jeez—“
“Dave? Dave, are you there?” The gravel made the speakerphone sound tinny and distant, like Henry was actually a small man hiding in the pebbles. “Can you hear me?”
“Y-yeah,” Dave rasped.
“What happened?”
“Just- dropped my phone like a dummy. Happens. I’ve gotta—“
Tension plunged through his pelvis. He yelped, dwindling to a thin rasp as he tipped forward. He managed to catch himself with one hand against the car, while the other clutched at his belly, lumpy now as his locked-tight muscles shrunk around the emerging baby, and the one still waiting in his womb.
Then the claws in his back and the pressure in his hips and the noose around his belly all tightened at once, defied by the massive disruption in his core. A single thought remained in his head:
“Needtopush.”
Over the blood roaring in his ears, he barely heard Henry saying, “No, not yet, not yet, you need to get the overalls off first. Hear me? Don’t push, you can’t push yet!”
When he had found out he would be delivering twins at the ripe age of forty, Dave had immediately worried he wouldn’t have the stamina to make it through labor, the possible hours of pushing.
He never would have guessed how difficult it would be not to push.
His throat caught on a loud, humming kind of moan, desperate to listen to his body, but he channeled the urge to push elsewhere and shoved his hand against the metal siding of the car until it dented with a thump. Despite his valiant effort not to move things along, he acutely felt his womb squeezing the baby lower, slowly, agonizingly stretching him until he was sure his whole birth canal was full.
Finally the contraction passed. Dave dropped forward onto his knees and scattered gravel as he reached thoughtlessly for the phone.
“Dave? Dave, you there?”
“I didn’t push,” he panted. “But- the baby feels so low. Oh. Ohhh, I’m so full. Ohhhhh god. I think she’s gonna come on the next one whether I push or not.” He made a forlorn little sound in the back of this throat. “She’s coming, her head’s gotta be coming soon, it’s so big, I can feel it—“
“Dave, hey, don’t panic, alright? I need you to try to feel through your overalls. Does your pubic region feel domed outward?”
Clumsily, he managed to get his hand down there. The area was sensitive, and the pain persisted, but the touch of his fingers barely agitated it. It all felt swollen, but then, it had for a few months now. “I don’t think so?”
“Okay, that means you're not delivering the head yet. Can you breathe with me?”
Right, he was panting again. He rubbed his belly in slow, easy loops, and tried to breathe with the rhythm Henry was demonstrating on the other line. When he felt a bit more stable, he mumbled, “Sorry, normally I don’t lose my head like this, I just thought I had more time, and—“
“You’re doing great, Dave. Just try to get to those shears as quick as you can, but don’t hurt yourself, okay?”
Dave wanted to mutter something a little mean-spirited about how that was easy for Henry to say, since he didn’t have the first of two babies filling his vagina, but instead he just grunted as he gripped the seat edge above him and started to drag himself upright.
Then: a strange snapping sensation inside him, a sudden release of pressure, and the baby slipped lower with a distinct feeling of becoming lodged, no longer an amorphous mass but now a very clear physical shape, complete with angles and edges wedged between his bones. He groaned, only to gasp at the sudden gush of moisture between his thighs. For a moment he thought he’d wet himself, but as the inseam of his overalls grew warm with more and more liquid, he knew what had happened.
“Hooooh. Okay. Okay, looks like my water broke.”
“Oh! Okay, that’s alright, Dave. Nothing’s changed. Just get those scissors, okay?”
“Oka—ayyyye, ohh hoh hoh. Wow.”
Apparently the amniotic sac had been doing a lot of work keeping baby where she was; as he stood completely, he found her so low that he couldn’t believe she wasn’t falling into his overalls. Which, based on how his pussy was burning, really seemed on the table.
He bent to one side with a groan and managed to get his hand between his legs again. The fluid had left everything clinging, and this time he felt it all more distinctively: the hill of his pubic fat stretched by what was happening inside of him, his engorged t-dick, the puffy folds that had been swelling by the day as he neared the end of his pregnancy. But when he spread his fingers and traced the area, cupped it in his hand…
“Okay, shoot, okay, the baby- uh- dropped a little when my water broke, and now I can feel the head. Not- not coming out yet, but- but I’m all- starting to bulge, like you said—“
“Okay, we’re gonna hurry up and get those shears, then, right?”
“Right. Right, yeah.”
It was, in fact, much easier said than done. Dave was hardly even walking anymore, his legs absurdly bowed around the growing burn, each step a heavy rocking motion as he fought the momentum of his belly. It wanted to propel him forward, pull him down.
Unfortunately, moving like so much molasses, he had nothing to do but reflect on his situation, and the indescribable pressure behind his cunt, and how it felt like his hips were being displaced by his trusty Black Widow pearl-reactive 12-pounder with the Predator V1 Asymmetric core. Then he thought about getting back into bowling for a moment before an innocuous step made his pelvic bones feel like they were grinding together, and he decided it was probably a bad time to think about his hobbies, since he was about to have two babies on his hands.
“Almost there,” he wheezed, as much to Henry as to himself.
“Good job, Dave, you’re doing great.”
No sooner had he put his hand on the door knob than he began to feel the tightening in his back and belly again. “Hoh, oh no, one’s coming, a big one— ohhhhh…”
He lifted his elbows and fell against them on the door, folding his forearms to have something to rest his head against, and to dig his nails into his own elbows. The pressure in his belly only grew, spreading down, locking muscles he didn’t even know he had, steel forcing the unyielding mass in his pelvis even lower.
“Ohhh I wanna push, I need to puuuush!” he groaned, but he didn’t. He made strange, almost melodic noises as he rode out the urge, eyes welling, throat dry. The baby kept sinking lower. The steady burn in his cunt sharpened, and the sting spread to his perineum. He whined, his legs instinctively trying to close to get away, but unable to shut with the baby where she was.
Finally it passed, and as the white noise died in his ears, he heard Henry babbling something at him.
“I didn’t push,” he whimpered.
“Good, that’s—“
“Doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, the head is coming. Ohh, it burns. It really burns, she’s coming, I’m having her now!” He groaned as he struggled to get a hand between his legs again. Then he gasped. “Oh, jeez. Oh, I’m so full, everything’s all pushed out, it’s bulging. It burns, it fucking burns, she’s coming now.”
“Alright, Dave, you need to get to those shears, then. Get those shears and you can have your baby, okay?”
With his next step, he suddenly remembered a diagram he saw of a mother pushing, how the baby stretched her open from her depths to her lips, her birth canal so wide it looked like her womb reached right to her cunt. He felt that now, his whole person transforming into nothing but a passage for his baby.
Every instinct told him to stop right where he was and drop into a squat, to work with his body’s painstaking rearrangement, help it fulfill its purpose, and push. But the baby could get hurt if he delivered her into these overalls and they stayed stuck. He took a trembling breath and finally opened the door.
The house looked dangerous and dirty in a way it hadn’t before, now that he knew he was about to give birth here. There were several renovation projects going on at once, the living room wallpaper being replaced and some superficial columns half-broken down, an unmounted mirror resting at a possibly hazardous angle against the wall. Random pieces of debris and loose screws littered the floor.
Dave whimpered gently as he trudged towards the kitchen.
“Dave?”
“It’s a mess in here. Ugh, I wanted to have my babies at the hospital.” His next breath shuddered, eyes blurring with tears. “God, I should have just gone when the contractions started, I’m already a bad father…”
“Dave, best thing you can do for your babies right now is focus on finding those shears. Remember, the ambulance is on its way, okay?”
“Right,” he gasped, and wiped a hand roughly over his eyes. “Right, yeah, I’m almost there. Here’s the— oh, oh, no, no, no—“
He just managed to get his hands on the kitchen counter before the next contraction wrested control of his body. His knees swayed apart and his back arched as his pelvis lowered. He heard himself making a loud, long, “Haaaaaaa,” sound that was somehow helping him bear the pain, but nothing could keep his body from beginning to bear down. He shook his head and panted, trying so, so hard not to push. But still the baby moved lower, and the burn somehow got worse, and his voice went raw as he cried out.
“Dave!?”
“Hurts! It hurts so bad! She must have crowned,” he whimpered. “Oh, it hurts, it hurts…” he trailed into repetitious mumbling, frozen exactly where he was, feeling unable to move except to rock back and forth fruitlessly seeking relief. It felt like every bit of tissue was stretched to its limit, like a single shift would rip him open.
“Dave, you need to get the shears now!”
“Hmmmnnnnn… nnno- no, I can’t, I can’t,” he groaned. “Head’s too big, I can’t…”
“You can, Dave, you have to. Where are they?”
He managed to peel his eyelids apart, the world blurry and throbbing. For a moment, he didn’t even know where he was, or remember what he could possibly be doing other than delivering this baby. Something about… shears?
He glanced back at his tool box. The shear handles should have protruded from the outer pocket where he kept them, but he didn’t see them.
Then he took a shaky breath and smelled the spackling. It came back to him—he’d used the shears to clip off a bit of hardened spackle at the spout of the bottle.
“Right. I left them under the sink.” Knees bowed awkwardly apart, he turned and began to stagger that way. With the solid form of his child dominating his hips, and the still-massive obstacle of his belly, he didn’t trust himself to bend on his own without falling.
So, finally, he answered his body’s plea and squatted. The baby still in his womb pressed up into his diaphragm as he did, forcing a wheeze, but he managed to get there. The stretch of his overalls across his throbbing gash of a cunt only increased the agonizing pressure, and he had the dizzying thought that the firm canvas had pushed the baby back inside.
“Okay,” he panted, “almost there.” He braced an arm on the counter above his head and slowly began to lean forward. A low groan trickled out of him as the tilt of his pelvis shifted the weight inside, at once a relief and an alarm as the pressure somehow increased.
“Hoooooh god,” he groaned.
“Dave?”
“She’s coming out,” he mumbled.
“Do you have the shears?”
“Yeah, they’re right here. I just gotta— Oh. Oh, I gotta— Haa- hah- ho, ho no—”
The contraction was a force that could not be bargained with, so much pressure distilled into such a small space that suddenly nothing was left within him but a blind, instinctive need to push. He reared back to grab the counter lip with his other hand, dropped his chin to his chest, and finally, finally did what his body had been screaming at him to do: he pushed.
Everything in his upper body transformed into counter-pressure against the wrecking-ball presence in his hips, even the air in his lungs, forced low towards his abdomen. He pushed, face growing hot, heartbeat pounding in his ears, a thin, gravelly noise grinding in the back of his throat.
And he felt it, now; before, he’d been so certain each time that the scalp must have reached his lips, but now, he knew the head was the only explanation for the agony licking from his cock to his asshole. The pain eclipsed anything he’d experienced so far, devastating everything between his legs as it all bulged and deformed around his arriving baby.
The shock of his ruined pussy caught up with his breathless lungs, and suddenly he could push no more, forced to rasp in ragged, desperate gasps.
“Oh, oh, oh,” he heard himself wailing, an attempt to say oh god unrealized in the desperation of childbirth.
“—ave, Dave, what’s happening!?”
“The head!” he cried. “The head’s coming out, augh, hmmmn, god, it hurts! Hurts so bad. Haaaaah.” Trying to escape the pain, he started to rock his hips, but that only tightened the canvas of his overalls against the baby’s head—and this time, he really did feel the resistance nudge it back inside. He locked still with a yelp.
“Fuck! No, no, she’s going back in, no, no!”
“That’s okay, that’s okay, You’re doing so good, Dave, you’re almost there, you just need to get out of those overalls and then you can meet your baby. Can you see the shears?”
He whined a thin, affirmative sound.
“Okay, good, you need to get them, okay?”
The two feet between Dave and the shears might as well have been ten miles with the massive belly still hanging from him, and all of the muscles in his pelvis displaced by an entire body.
He whimpered. “Mmmokay. Okay. I can do it. I just gotta…”
Dave was, in general, a slow and methodical man. But he had never done anything more slowly and methodically than beginning to spread his feet apart now, lowering his already-too-low center of gravity. As his legs spread, the blaze between his thighs brightened and grew, and his throat produced a strange, continuously-breaking wobble he didn’t know he was capable of, the kind of noise he’d expect from someone being dragged across concrete.
“Dave?”
“M’bending.” His voice went especially thin as he bent further and the second twin was pushed deep into his lungs. “Ohhhh they’re too big. They’re too big…”
“You’ll be alright, Dave, just keep going, okay? You’re doing so great. You’re almost there.”
He dropped one of his hands from the counter overhead and slapped it on the floor of the cabinet, trying to steady himself. Pressure mounted in his lower back. He began to groan, then whimper as it grew, and grew—
“Ohhhh it hurts, it hurts, it- huuuurrrggghhh…!”
There was no choice now but to push. He went totally silent, not even breath escaping him, trembling from his scalp all the way to his knees. Between his womb-stretched abs and the violently compressed muscles of his birth canal, it was like trying to pluck an elevator cable, expecting something held tense by thousands of pounds to budge.
But his body was made to do this. He pushed, and somehow he forced his child through, and his pussy lips stretched wider around the head, and finally he reached the end of his effort with a delirious, undignified yelp as the crowning child stayed wedged in his cunt.
Henry was saying something on the phone and Dave was pretty sure he wanted to say something back, but all he could think was that he felt like he was about to tear from all sides, his cock a white-hot point of tension, his distended perineum threatening to rip right open. But, despite the strain, his body held miserably solid.
Without thinking, he reached down between his legs. It was a little easier with his belly having lost some volume, squished easily by his stretching arm.
“Oh,” he rasped. “Oh my god. Oh wow. Okay.”
The center seam of his overalls bulged out obscenely. Gently, gasping, tears welling, he cupped the fabric stretched across the distended hill of flesh that used to be his crotch, and stroked the massive wet lump protruding in the center. As it was, he was fairly sure the baby would be eased back into his canal as opposed to being harmed by the rigid canvas, but he didn’t want to take any chances.
“Okay,” he said, now a bit soggy. “Baby’s- hoooo- baby’s crowning. Head- head’s almost out. I’m gonna. Gonna cut the overalls.”
“Okay, yes, good, Dave, you’re doing amazing.”
Maybe it was the fact that he could feel his baby’s head under his fingers, or just the ecstatic relief of the end being in sight, but he suddenly noticed how much feeling was in Henry’s voice.
“Thank you,” he groaned. “Oh. Hmmm, hoh, okay. Here I go.” Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away from his baby and finally reached for the shears. They weren’t even especially far, leaving him a little embarrassed at how cloudy he’d let his head get in the pain, but it didn’t matter. He had them now.
Carefully, carefully, he eased his upper body back out of the cabinet. A high squeak tore from him as the change in angle nudged the baby forward ever so slightly, just enough to somehow strain his cunt further.
“Alright, Dave, how we doing?” Yeah, that was worry in his voice, wasn’t it? How sweet.
“M’okay,” he panted. “Here goes. Cutting now.”
It was then, taking one strap of his overalls in hand, that he realized he didn’t even need the freaking shears. The fastenings were loose now, his belly no longer the absurd blimp it had been with two amniotic sacs inside. With just one, he had plenty of slack to unhook the clasps. The overalls fell limply from his chest, though they still clung around the broadest part of his belly. His plain undershirt was transparent with sweat, showing the damp whorls of his chest hair and the dark peaks of his areolae puffing proudly atop his barely-swelling chest. True to his prediction, little spots of yellow clung to his long, enlarged nipples, his body eager to provide the baby’s first meal.
He took all this in as he caught his breath. “Okay, almost ou— Oh! Oh no- oh that’s so fast, I gotta—“ He set the scissors at his side and grabbed at the counter again, sweaty fingers slipping on the marble. At this point he really thought he was getting into a rhythm, mastering this whole pushing thing, but—
“HmmmmmmaaaAAAAAAAAGH!”
He stretched, and stretched, pussy lips humbled to ribbons of agony, a pain so potent it shot up through his guts right to his sinuses. But still he bore down, kept pushing, he could do it, for his baby, he had to—!
The head burst out. A strangled cry of relief punched from his chest, dissolving into exhausted laughter as he noticed the emerging child had tugged his overalls the rest of the way over the crest of his belly. It sloped out from under his too-small undershirt in an odd pear shape, all of the volume gone from the top, the second twin all but resting on his thighs.
Trembling, he reached down and felt the head through his freshly drenched pants.
“Dave?”
“I did it. Head’s out.” He panted. “Here, let- let me…” He shimmied his overalls down a little lower, unable to get them off his legs, but able to expose his undercarriage enough to push his briefs down. It was much easier to reach around, now, making it simple to dip his hand between his thighs and find…
“Oh, hi there,” he gasped. A sob hitched through him, his cheeks suddenly aching with the force of his smile. “Hi, sweetie, Papa’s here. I’ve got you.” He cupped her head, thinking both how incredibly small she was and how he couldn’t believe he shoved a head that big out of him. Belatedly, he remembered to feel down around her neck, a chill of relief flooding his limbs when he found no cord around the neck.
“Hooo, okay, head’s out, I think she’s all good, and- oh! Ah.” He sucked air through his teeth. “Kicking me still. Ouch. Ow.” He chuckled weakly. “Yeah, sweetie, hold on a minute, okay? Need another contraction and then you’ll have all the room you need, I promise.”
“Good, amazing job, man, that’s so incredible. You’re incredible.” Henry sounded a little breathless. “Good work.”
“Not done yet,” Dave mumbled, as the telltale windup of muscles told him the next contraction was building. “Here it comes. Heeeerrre…. Nnnnnngggh!”
With the end in sight, Dave forced strength he didn’t even know he had into bearing down, taking the strange feeling of the baby twisting inside his cunt in stride, his hand near and steady when he passed the first shoulder. His yelp of pain and the deep breath to replenish his air happened at the same time, making a very weird sound that he didn’t have time to care about in his determination. He dropped his other hand from the counter ledge and let his shoulder fall against the cabinet door as he reached between his legs, and the sliver of voice forced through with his effort rose to a roar—
And he pushed the other shoulder through. His daughter slid into his waiting hands in another gush fo fluid.
He gasped for breath, a little dizzy, and even though his body felt ruined, he didn’t really mind collapsing on his soiled overalls with his back on the hard cabinets. He drew the baby up to his chest and tugged his shirt out of the way so he could press her to his skin, nuzzled to his heartbeat and wiry chest hair, his face close enough to duck and kiss her, not particularly caring about the sort of gross cheesy white stuff smeared all over her, even though some got on his mustache.
“Hi, baby,” he gasped. “There you are. Oh wow. There you are.”
After a few insistent pats on her tiny back, she coughed and started to cry, and he nodded along, laughing. “Yeah, understandable, sweetie. I know. That was hard. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, wow,” came the voice from his phone. He’d almost forgotten there was someone listening.
He laughed. “Good lungs, right?”
“Great. Wow. Whew.” Poor guy. He probably usually didn’t have these kinds of calls, coaching a guy through childbirth.
“Thank you. Thank you so much. Don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
“Don’t mention it. I’m just glad everybody’s okay.”
Dave smiled; he couldn’t agree more.
Still, while the baby suckled at his chest, he couldn’t help but be painfully aware of her umbilical cord spilling over his still-pregnant belly, where her twin turned and kicked inside.
Then—
“Hey, uh, Hen, how far’s that ambulance?”
“Uhhh… ah. Forty minutes.”
“Okay,” he said, voice tightening. “Okay. Well. I— aaaah. Mhh. Yeah. I think her brother might- ah- he might get here before that.”
Two roommates go from friends to lovers to mothers in this intimate home birth story.
Co-written as a roleplay with the fabulous clairejones2465 on DeviantArt.
10k words. Fpreg, roommates to lovers, sexual content, wlw, queer couple, orgasmic birth.
Tracy and Sarah had been renting their small ranch style home together for about two years, friends for three. Tracy had always felt something so intriguing about her roommate, like she was being drawn to her. They got along so well, had the same sense of humor and even flirted on occasion after a few too many drinks.
About nine months ago, Tracy had been at a bar alone and ended up having a one night stand… with a man. That’s how she wound up heavily pregnant in nothing but a navy blue sundress on their couch. Sarah had been incredible the entire pregnancy. Not knowing the father was a challenge but she held Tracy’s hair back through morning sickness, came to every doctor’s appointment and even help set up the nursery.
During the last few weeks, the women had gotten more intimate. Sarah felt Tracy’s baby kicking often, gave foot massages when she needed them and even slept in Tracy’s bed a few times when the mom-to-be was worried about Braxton hicks turning into real labor.
The midwife Kenzie was all set to deliver the baby right in their home. The living room had been taken over by the yoga ball, birthing pool and newborn supplies.
“Mmmh Sarah? You wanna watch a movie with me?” Tracy asked, rubbing her large swollen belly. The baby was measuring in the 95th percentile, taking up every inch of her womb.
Tracy had always been a curvy girl, her breasts were definitely on the larger side now. She was about 5”3 with curly brunette hair, green eyes, and olive skin due to Italian heritage. From what Tracy remembers, this baby’s father was Italian as well.
She had been rubbing cream on her big tummy every night but still had two stubborn stretch marks. Ehh, at least my kid’s big and strong. Although her baby was large, she wasn’t necessarily scared of giving birth. Tracy actually couldn’t wait since she was pretty over being pregnant these days. Her back ached more with each passing day, her feet were swollen, plus it was ninety degrees outside. Ready when you are baby boy. She thought to herself.
A voice echoed from the kitchen. “Sure!” Sarah shouted from the other room, answering Tracy’s question about watching a movie. “What did you have in mind?”
With the summer heat their old rental house wasn’t great, the warm air almost trapped inside the walls and the AC wasn’t functional at the best of times. If Sarah was too warm and she couldn’t imagine what it was like for her heavily pregnant roommate. To help cool them off Sarah was preparing some iced tea and an array of snacks - fruit slices, crisps, and ice cream. They didn’t have plans today and Tracy was too exhausted and pregnant to go out, so the women figured they’d have a nice chill day on the couch.
Walking into the living room Sarah smiled seeing her best friend sitting there in her navy sundress and rubbing her bump affectionately. Tracy was absolutely gorgeous, so feminine and curvy, significantly more so during her pregnancy. Sarah however, was rather slim, not much in the hips or breasts department, damn genetics. Perhaps that was why she was drawn to the mother-to-be, her shape and curves was something Sarah longed for. She thought she would develop boobs during puberty but never did; her body pretty much went straight up and down. As a way of showing her femininity, Sarah had long ash-blonde hair but with the heat it was partially twirled up in a messy bun, her slim frame wearing just baggy shorts and a casual spaghetti trap tee.
“How’s he doing?” Sarah asked, nodding to the bump that sat heavily over Tracy’s thighs.
Sarah placed the tray of snacks and drinks onto the table in front of the couch, then immediately picked up a tumbler of ice tea, complete with a metal straw, and handed it to her friend as she sat down beside her. “Thought you could use a cool drink and some snacks.”
Sitting so close Sarah’s hand naturally went to Tracy’s bump, running gently over its curve and she felt the familiar movement beneath her skin, baby boy’s feet pressing up against her palm.
At the sight of the tray of goodies, Tracy’s mouth starts watering almost immediately. “Mmh thanks,” she hums, taking a few long sips of iced tea. “He’s getting bigger by the second Sarah, I swear.” She lets out a little whine. Of course Tracy was grateful for having this unexpected baby, he certainly wasn’t in any plans but she loved him all the same. She truly couldn’t wait to be a mother. Kinda feels like Sarah’s in this with me too. Tracy thinks to herself.
The feel of Sarah’s hand caressing her bump was magical, like it was always meant to rest there. “You’re so good to me,” Tracy puts a hand over Sarah’s and smiles, “I really am so lucky to have you through all of this.” She says, trying not to get too deep, though it was hard to resist as she looked into Sarah’s gorgeous eyes. “Couldn’t have done it without you.” Tracy felt a blush rise up in her cheeks, one that had nothing to do with pregnancy or the heat.
The mother-to-be clears her throat, breaking the moment of sexual tension. “I’m thinking a comedy? If I laugh enough, maybe I’ll get some contractions going here.” She winks at Sarah teasingly. “How about a classic Adam Sandler movie? Or maybe something with Will Ferrell?” Tracy suggests, blowing out a breath at another damn Braxton hicks contraction.
Her belly tightens like a drum under their hands, the pressure in her lower back becoming unbearable for more than a few seconds before it passes. “Hhhooo easy there buddy boy.” Tracy breathes, slowly caresses her bump.
“Mmh… your body sure does like to practice doesn’t it.” Sarah muses with a comforting soothing voice, observing the way the bump hardens beneath her fingers. The last few weeks Tracy had been plagued with braxton hicks. Both women panicked at first thinking it was go-time, but Kenzie was very lovely when she told them it was simply Tracy’s body practicing for the main event. Now, neither of them worried at how much Tracy’s belly tensed and relaxed. “Nice and easy Trace, breathe through it. You got it.”
The mother-to-be relaxed beside Sarah when it was over, sinking further into the worn cushions of their second-hand couch. Sarah’s hand stayed on her friend’s belly, she had no reason to keep it there, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to break contact.
“Of course I was going to be here for you. I’ve said it thousands of times, you’re my best friend and you’re having a baby, like hell were you going to do this alone.” She lifts her free arm over the back of the couch, wrapping around her friend’s shoulders to give a hug. “I know this wasn’t in your Big Life Plans Tracy, but you’re going to make an excellent mother. And I’m so glad you chose me to be there for you through it all.”
Sarah placed a soft kiss to the side of Tracy’s head. A small sign of affection, of close friends, but she couldn’t deny there was something more behind the gesture. Getting to be with Tracy through this life-changing process was an honour and a privilege. Getting to witness the incredible changes of her body, how it prepared and nurtured the little life in her womb. Honestly, women were amazing, Sarah thought.
“Let’s get the film started then, see if we can laugh this little guy outta you.”
Tracy relaxed further into her best friend’s arm, putting her feet up on the pillow on the coffee table. “Mmh sounds like a plan.” She smirks, still reeling from the kiss on the side of her head. Tracy had never been with a woman before, not in any romantic way, but just couldn’t get the thought out of her head. Sarah was gorgeous, slim but soft in the right places. They certainly couldn’t share bras but Tracy had caught sight of Sarah in the shower once and she was a freaking vision. Her hair reminded Tracy of the sun, as did her personality. God, am I falling for my best friend?
The movie starts, Tracy tries to focus, but between Sarah’s arm around her and the occasional Braxton hicks, she was not following the plot. Shifting over a little, Tracy turns her head to find Sarah already looking at her.
If you asked them later, they wouldn’t be able to tell who leaned into who, but seconds after the women locked eyes, they locked lips. Tracy’s whole body tingled, lips moving with more passion than a pregnant woman should have.
“Mmhhh Sarah,” Tracy hums cupping a hand on the back of Sarah’s neck gently, her round belly pressing into Sarah’s flat one. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” She says honestly, a hand moving to tuck her friend’s blonde hair behind her ear. Tracy tries to gauge a reaction to the kiss while also managing her raging pregnancy hormones that tell her to take their clothes off.
During the kiss Sarah had moved her hand without conscious thought, over the fullness of Tracy’s belly and around her waist, pulling her close as their lips touched. The feel of her roommate’s hand on the back of her neck sent shivers down her spine, and then Tracy moaned. She moaned Sarah’s name, making her freeze, in shock.
Staring at her friend, Sarah wondered if the kiss was a good or bad thing. Tracy was pregnant, she was her best friend. Had I ruined everything by kissing her? But then Tracy had spoken again, cheeks flushed with a smile on her lips.
“Y-you’ve wanted to do— oh Trace, I had no idea. I had no idea you felt it too…” Sarah’s words were quiet and stuttered, lost in the way Tracy’s eyes were looking directly at her lips. “But… you’re pregnant. You’re about to become a mum. Is this… a good idea? I mean… I want to, I really do. But I didn’t want to tell you how I felt, didn’t want to add to your stress levels or risk ruining our friendship.”
The words fell out if Sarah’s mouth with barely any semblance of thought. As if the kiss had opened the door to something she’d tried but failed to close. Over the course of the pregnancy the pair had grown closer and closer, that was undeniable. At first Sarah thought her appreciation of Tracy’s changing body was simply awe of what the female form was capable of. But as her friend’s curves expanded, her figure fuller and rounded, Sarah slowly began to realise she didn’t want to be Tracy but she wanted to be with Tracy.
The film continued to play in the background but neither of them could pay any attention, all focus was on the narrow space between the women and the nervous rising and falling of their chests.
Tracy breaks the silence, relieved to hear her own worries and desires mirrored in exactly what her roommate seemed to be feeling. “I figured you wouldn’t want to get into a relationship with a big ole pregnant lady.” She chuckles. “My body has changed so much and. . . I guess I was feeling a little self conscious.” Tracy admits softly, looking down at her belly.
“I’m so happy he’s coming, that I’m becoming a mom. It’s just a lot of ask someone to deal with so early in a relationship.” Tracy’s laugh didn’t hide the intensity and nervousness as she locked eyes with her friend. “These past few months you’ve been here for me though. . . My attraction grew and I just. . . I guess I couldn’t hold back anymore.”
You still can’t Tracy, stop with the word vomit, she chastised herself.
“Maybe we can just. . . Take it slow and explore this,” Needing a distraction from the painful ache in her lower back Tracy leans over and kisses Sarah again. Her roommate’s soft lips pull focus away from Tracy’s aching hips that feel like they’re separating. Easy kid, your mom’s trying to work some game here.
Sarah melted into the kiss, so soft and gentle, so different to anyone she had kissed before. On hearing Tracy’s erratic and nervous rambling, knowing they both were feeling the same mix of emotions, made Sarah relax into the change of events. “Mmmm… T-Tracy… are you s-sure?” Sarah asked, in between kisses and heavy breathing.
“Mmmh I’m sure. . . If you’re sure.” Tracy smiles, seeing the look in Sarah’s eyes that confirms they’re on the same page.
It was hard to miss that Tracy was doing the majority of the leaning into the kiss, but her bump was heavy and full between them and they weren’t exactly at a good angle to face each other - having initially sat down facing the tv. If only Sarah were stronger or more muscular, she’d have lifted her gorgeous friend. She wanted to hold her, to wrap her arms around every inch of Tracy’s beautiful pregnant shape. Instead, her hand travelled down the curves of Tracy’s body, caressing the bump before taking a risk. Swiftly, Sarah’s hand cupped the brunette’s right breast, giving a gentle squeeze through the fabric of the navy sundress. She knew how sensitive they were, boobs so full of milk for her impending child, so Sarah took great care to be delicate and careful with the movement.
“Is that okay?” She asked a little hesitantly, wanting to check Tracy was alright.
The response from the mother-to-be was a soft moan. Tracy’s breasts had been so sensitive lately but Sarah’s hand gave just the right amount of pressure. “Mmmh it’s more than okay,” Tracy then turns towards her friend before making a bold move herself. Shifting up onto her knees Tracy lifts one leg up and over, straddling Sarah’s lap. Her big belly an ever known presence between the pair, heavy and full of life.
“Is this okay?” She asks, unable to stop her lips from trailing down Sarah’s soft neck. The position surprisingly wasn’t hell on her back, however she still felt a lingering ache. This baby’s big Tracy, what do you expect?
Instinctively Sarah’s hands went to Tracy’s hips, steadying her pregnant friend as she settled her knees either side of Sarah’s thighs. “Whoa…okay. Mmmhh oh Trace you are…. gorgeous.” She hummed, her hands exploring Tracy’s voluptuous curves while her roommate peppered her neck with soft kisses.
The weight of Tracy’s pregnant belly against her slim frame felt heavenly. Its size and shape, so firm and perfect and absolutely bursting with life as it pressed against her flat stomach, almost pushing the thinner woman deeper into the couch cushions. While Tracy curled over the bump to kiss her neck, Sarah’s hands held and squeezed her pregnant friend’s hips - both as support but also in Sarah’s own desperate way to hold her close.
“You feel so good Sarah. . . You have no idea how much I want you.” Tracy purred, biting her lip and moving her hand up Sarah’s waist to her smaller breast, cupping it and gently squeezing the nipple through the blonde’s thin shirt.
Sarah gasped, arching backwards. “Oooohhh Tracy!” Letting go momentarily on Tracy's hips, Sarah’s hands slid down her thighs before going back up, this time holding Tracy’s hips under the navy fabric of her sundress. Her fingers gliding along her friend’s soft skin and grazing the lace trim of the mother-to-be’s underwear. Sarah felt Tracy rocking slightly, hips swaying between her hands, but she wasn’t sure if it was enjoyment or perhaps from discomfort.
“Are you alright? I know baby has been nestled really quite low lately... is this erm, a good position for you?” Sarah asked with concern.
“Mmhh I’m great, it actually feels good to have my hips like this,” Tracy reassured with a smirk. Her hips had been so sore today, feeling like they were almost splitting apart. One would think this position would be uncomfortable but it was just the opposite. She pulls back a bit, looking at her belly. “He is quite low, isn’t he?” She can't help but giggle. “Honestly, I’m comfortable if you are, gorgeous.” Tracy confirms, brushing some of Sarah’s loose blonde hair away from her eyes.
She had such trouble focusing when she looked into her friend’s green eyes, like a damn siren pulling her in. Between that and hormones, Tracy found her hands moving to the skirt of her dress, slowly pulling it over her head. She gives Sarah time to protest, but when she doesn’t, Tracy lets the garment fall to the ground.
Her heavy belly was an orb of life between them, her skin so soft and smooth thanks to stretch mark lotion. Remembering she’s not wearing a bra, it was too cumbersome to deal with this late in pregnancy, Tracy blushes slightly. Her large full breasts on display, nipples hardened with arousal.
“I. . . I hope that wasn’t too forward. . .” She bites her lip nervously, trying to gauge Sarah’s reaction. Thinking about that distracts from the sudden ache she felt in her lower belly, muscles clenching tightly around her womb. Damn Braxton Hicks.
Sarah’s jaw fell open taking in the sight of her topless heavily pregnant friend. Warm olive skin, stretched and full, her beautiful belly and… wow…
“I don’t think I fully appreciated just how much your breasts had swelled in pregnancy….” She muttered, eyes drawn to Tracy’s dark and insanely large areola’s. “Shit… didn’t mean to say that aloud.” She giggled and blushed.
Sarah’s hands squeeze Tracy’s wide hips, keeping her ass steady and supported on her knees. With the gravid shape of her belly Tracy’s underwear was almost completely hidden, but Sarah’s fingers brushed the hidden cotton side seams that clung and dug into the flesh of her friend’s hips. The way Tracy was kneeling and how Sarah was slumped slightly on the couch, meant her eyes were level with her friend’s engorged chest. Sarah’s mouth dried, jaw open, and a stirring in her belly dictated the next move.
Keeping hold of her hips, Sarah leant forward and kissed the very top curve of each breast. Just above the nipple. Tracy smelt phenomenal. Slowly her lips danced from side to side, caressing each and every inch of the brunette’s sensitive bosom.
Giggling and moaning, Tracy blushes at the fact Sarah enjoys her breasts so much. “Mmmh I like hearing you say stuff like that,” She says honestly. “I like saying stuff like that too. . . You have no idea how sexy you are Sarah.” Tracy’s hands move to the hem of Sarah’s thin shirt, a question in her eyes. She hesitates a moment before quickly stripping it off.
They had different body types for sure but her friend’s soft sleek body was no less gorgeous than her own curves. “Fuck. . . You’re incredible.” Tracy leans down to capture Sarah’s lips again, her belly pressing into her friend once more. She never thought she’d be this sexually forward so late in pregnancy but here they were. “Can. . . we go into my room?” She whispers, breathing a little heavier from their passionate kissing.
As if to confirm her intentions Tracy’s hands move up Sarah’s now-naked torso and cups her smaller breasts, fingers teasing the hardened nipples there. “I want you sweetheart.” She husks, the endearment falling right out of her mouth.
Sarah shudders, gasping a little, both at her racing heart but also the weight of Tracy’s bump pressing her right back into the couch.
“Oh yes… It’ll be more comfier for you… of course.” Her brain short-circuited, focusing on her friend and her comfort, completely missing the signal of why Tracy wanted to move to the bedroom. “Ohhhhh….” The penny drops.
Sitting up on the couch Sarah’s hands move and cradle Tracy’s lower back, keeping her supported - she was a little worried she’d topple backwards off her lap. “A-are you sure Tracy? We don’t have to… I- I wouldn’t want us to do anything that might make you uncomfortable. Can you even….” Her eyebrows raise in an unspoken question. “…is it safe in your condition?”
As much as Sarah had dived into all things pregnancy since they discovered Tracy was expecting, her mind was drawing a complete blank on what was recommended when it came to sex during late-term pregnancy. She didn’t want to put her best friend under any strain or stress. And in all honesty, she’d never been with a woman before either so this was all uncharted territory.
The mother-to-be’s answer came in the form of movement, climbing off of Sarah’s lap with surprising ease for someone with a baby nestled in their hips, and took her hand with a smirk.
“I’m sure if you are,” Tracy caresses her belly once standing, a gleam in her eye. “It’ll be new for both of us but I’m gonna be out of commission soon,” She winces a little, feeling a rough kick. Wait, tightening and a kick?
“I’d like to explore this before I’m all sleep deprived and covered in baby spit up.” Tracy smirks, taking Sarah’s hand and slowly leading them to the bedroom.
It doesn’t take much, both women caught up in finally acting upon their hidden desires. They find themselves at Tracy’s bed, lips colliding in a passionate kiss. Tracy still had her panties on but she wanted to get Sarah’s pants off. Sue me, she’s gorgeous.
Tracy’s heart races as she starts to push down the waistband, her belly pressed against her friend as they moan into each other’s mouths. She couldn’t believe this was finally happening but also couldn’t believe how natural it felt. It was like they were supposed to be together in this way all along.
The touch of Tracy’s warm hands on her bare skin sent bolts of electricity through Sarah’s veins. She moved her own hands, glided over every inch of her pregnant friend that she could reach, pulling her close while her tongue danced deeper into Tracy’s mouth.
“Mmmmh… Trace…. This is crazy… but damn… so good.” She hums against the other woman’s lips. One hand was wrapped behind Tracy’s neck, fingering her curled hair, while the other stayed on her plump hip. She felt Tracy’s hand travel lower, reaching around her belly to find Sarah’s underwear and slipping her hand inside the thick elastic of her cotton boxer-short style panties.
The breath left Sarah’s lungs with a shaky exhale, fingers curling in Tracy’s thick locks of hair. There was no doubt of her attraction when Tracy felt the dampness between her legs. Sarah gasped, pulling her roommate close. She couldn’t get enough, she needed Tracy, every inch of her pregnant form against her skin. Sarah’s mouth opened, kissing deeper as Tracy’s fingers danced beneath her clothes and then, Sarah nearly bit Tracy’s bottom lip when her best friend slipped her fingers inside. “Oh god—”
Tracy had never felt so aroused, assuming that’s part of what’s causing the incessant tightening in her lower back. She gasps, both from Sarah’s passionate kisses and from the pain moving slowly around to her belly, squeezing around the life inside of there. Easy baby boy.
The need to be with her roommate was strong and once Tracy felt how wet Sarah was, it was game over. They slowly strip off the rest of their clothes, lying atop the soft comforter of the bed. “Mmmhhh oh god. . . Sarah. . .” Tracy pants, lying on her side so her big belly was resting between them.
Tracy’s hands knot in the blonde’s silky hair, pulling her closer. When she pulls away from the kiss, it’s only to lean her head down and take Sarah’s firm nipple into her mouth, licking around it and hoping she enjoyed it. “Mmhhhh. . .” One hand moved between their bodies and Tracy pushed two fingers inside again, this time focusing a thumb on Sarah’s clit.
“This okay love?” She breathes heavily, not really sure if she could stop but knowing she would if asked.
“Y-Yes… god yes.” Sarah gasped, arching her spine as her best friend’s fingers plunged deep, her beautiful expert thumb landing in the most perfect place.
She felt almost helpless beside Tracy, wanting to pleasure her as well, but her roommates' hands were busy making her see stars. Sarah’s head lowered, nestled into the frazzled nest of Tracy’s hair as the brunette licked her nipples. Taking a deep breath she inhaled the sweet apple scent of Tracy’s shampoo, combined with the unique smell that was just… her.
Sarah shifted closer, pressing her bare skin against Tracy’s. The hand between her thighs just kept circling, moving in and out gently as Tracy’s thumb danced over her clit. She could feel the swollen belly against her torso, its shape so firm, hard, and heavy with child, it made her dizzy. Sarah should be the one making her tired and exhausted friend feel incredible, but she was completely lost to the pleasure and the feeling of the beautiful pregnant body against her skin.
“T-Tr-Tracy—” she gasped, feeling her walls clamp around Tracy’s fingers. Sarah trembled on the edge of release. Somehow her leg went in the air, giving her roommate better access between her thighs, and then her foot hooked over Tracy’s leg and abruptly pulled her closer. Arms and legs entwined, she needed her against her body, as close as physically possible. Sarah heard her friend gasp at the sudden movement that dragged Tracy right up against her quaking body. “I’m…. I’m gonna….” was all she could gasp as she hurdled straight over that cliff edge of pleasure.
Tracy’s warm eyes were focused, watching her friend’s flutter in ecstasy. She had done a lot of self pleasure over the past few months which evidently was paying off. Any nerves Tracy had of being with a woman for the first time were being squashed based on her roommate’s encouraging reaction.
“Mmhhh that’s it Sarah…” Tracy purred. She felt the tightening in her belly come back again, though Sarah was probably too busy orgasming to notice. “Oohhhhh cum baby… cum for me.”
Tracy’s lips kiss along Sarah's neck as she increases the pressure on her clit. The mother-to-be winces, face tucked into Sarah’s neck, knowing without a doubt she just had a contraction. Labor can take forever, enjoy this while you can, she thinks to herself, not wanting to ruin the moment.
Hey I know we just connected romantically for the first time but uhh my baby’s coming - yeah that would definitely kill the heated atmosphere in the room.
Shaking her head, the contraction dying down for now, Tracy asks “Mmmhh you okay?” She pulls back to look at her friend in her post-orgasm bliss, her hand brushing Sarah’s hair away from her face. “I didn’t push you too far did I?”
For Sarah, Tracy’s face glows above her like the sun and she just smiles through heaving breathing as she tries to recover.
“Whoa… that was… unexpected. But amazing!” Sarah huffs out, grinning like a cat who got the cream. Her head tilts, melting against Tracy’s palm before kissing the soft skin of her friend's inner wrist. Sarah’s other hand skims the length of Tracy’s body that is still pressed close, gliding up and down the wonderful curves. “I had no idea a woman could make me feel so… alive.”
Tracy grins, a blush rising to her cheeks but takes the compliment. “Unexpected but amazing is right,”
Slowly Sarah came around from her orgasm, her mind functioning a lot better than it did a few minutes ago. She wrapped her arm around her pregnant friend, holding her close in post-pleasured bliss, taking in every second of this moment that just felt so right.
“So…. My gorgeous pregnant roommate….” Sarah whispered with a smirk and a glint in her eyes. “I believe it’s customary to return the favour?” Her warm hands moved over Tracy’s curves, rubbing the firm sphere of her belly that she just couldn’t get enough of.
“Mmmh I’d love for you to return the favor.” Tracy mumbles and kisses Sarah deeply, parting her legs slightly.
Before Sarah’s hands could travel any lower, where intended, she felt her friend’s womb abruptly harden and shift beneath her palm. “Er…. Wow… are you okay? That looked and felt different…”
Tracy honestly wasn’t sure what was going on but replies, “I’m sure it’s just a Braxton hicks.” She moves impossibly closer to her friend, bodies touching, skin on skin. “Or maybe we’ll kickstart labor, who knows.” Tracy’s giggle fades as she feels Sarah hand trailing down between her legs.
“Mmhhh my gorgeous sexy roommate. . .” She leans back against the pillows, her huge belly pivoted towards her friend but legs open for Sarah’s wandering fingers. “Ohhhh mmmhhhh that feels so good baby. . .” Tracy’s dark nipples tighten in arousal, her belly heavy and full of life.
Once her orgasm starts, Tracy finds the delicate but specific touches from her friend drive her crazy a lot faster than expected. Tracy’s bump tenses once again, another big pain rippling across her lower belly. “Mmhhhh ooohhhhhhhh! Ooohhhh god yes. . .” She moans in an intoxicating mixture of pleasure and pain, eyes closed with the intense sensations coursing through her body, but the shift and tensing of her belly was undeniably and externally visible.
Seeing her roommate naked and writhing on the bed, eyes closed and chest heaving, Sarah grinned and increased the motion of her hand. After what Tracy had just done to her, she was determined to make her friend feel just as fucking good. Sarah’s fingers went deep, curling slightly, and her thumb pressed down on Tracy’s clit. She felt the shudder from her roommate instantly.
Tracy was just so bloody gorgeous, so pregnant and swollen and absolutely ripe. Sarah couldn’t help herself as she shuffled down the bed a fraction so she could kiss and suck those glorious breasts. Slowly she kissed the skin around Tracy’s nipples before landing on the target. Lips pursing, tongue licking, teeth grazing. To her surprise a little bit of milk began to leak, the sweetness on her tongue was unreal!
“Oh my god Trace… you are absolutely incredible. Yessss darling….” She purred into Tracy’s swollen and full chest as she plunged her fingers deeper between her friend’s legs.
When Tracy’s body quakes with pleasure Sarah synchronises the movements of her hand and mouth to send her roommate right over the edge. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Tracy’s belly rising and falling with her heavy breathing, but then it lifted and stayed in a weird shape. Not the usual beautiful sphere but more oblong and torpedo shaped.
When the mother-to-be moaned, it was clear that it wasn’t just from the fluttering aftermath of her climax. It was the second time that had happened in short succession. The first Sarah had dismissed, but now…
“Erm… Trace? Was that what I think it is?” Sarah asked worriedly, fingers still wrapped around and inside of Tracy, holding her close while she came down from her orgasm and rode out the contraction.
Tracy pants heavily, her orgasm washes through her very core, making her thighs quiver and toes curl into the blanket. “Mmhhhh I, I think so. . .” She hums, the contraction slowly easing. There was an ungodly amount of pressure in her hips, her pelvis widening with impending birth.
She took a second to lay her head against Sarah’s neck, letting her friend’s body embrace her own as she came down from such a high. “Mmmhhhh mmmhh Sarah I think he’s coming. . .” Slowly Tracy moves to stand, her legs suddenly restless.
Once on her feet, the mother-to-be rocked back and forth naked, hands on the bed. Tracy’s big belly hangs, lower now, and her breasts leak the tiniest bit of milk. She couldn’t help but feel a wave of arousal remembering Sarah taking them into her mouth just a moment ago. Did she like that?? God, I loved that.
The pressure in her pelvis intensifies a few minutes later, causing her fingers to dig into the comforter. “Mmhhhh nngghhhhh! He’s c-comingggggg!” Her belly is rock hard, visibly lifting up. “Oohhhhhh god!” Tracy winces, trying to breathe through the worst of the pain when suddenly her water breaks, clear fluid gushing down her thighs.
“It’s time… hhhooo hhhooooo Sarah it’s time!” Tracy tries not to panic but with her water out of the way, she suddenly felt like she needed to push. It couldn’t be time for that yet, could it?!
“Shhhh… it’s okay, it’s okay darling.” Sarah soothes. Having already jumped off the bed when Tracy started rocking, her hands were now rubbing her friend’s lower back, her mind suddenly scrambling to try and remember all the labouring poses they learnt in birth class. “It’s just your water breaking, you’re okay Tracy. Deep breaths okay. Slow and steady.”
It was such a juxtaposition; one minute they were entwined in post-orgasmic bliss and now suddenly Tracy is leaning on her bed and making the strangest lowing sounds. Well, they were hoping to induce labour today, albeit they were originally going to laugh Tracy’s body into labour watching a comedy movie. Perhaps all the myths were true - sex really did have the power to send someone into labour. Sarah couldn’t help the sly grin on her face at the thought that she may have played a part in this.
“Take slow breaths for me Trace, inhale…. then exhale. That’s it. Now when this one is over you can tell me what you’re feeling and we can make a plan. Everything’s going to be okay.” Sarah stood close, her hands never leaving Tracy’s bare skin. As she rubbed her lower back and Tracy’s rocking slowed, Sarah naturally placed a kiss on her friend’s shoulder from behind. “Baby boy is just excited to meet us eh?”
“Mmhhhh hhhooo hhhooooo…” Listening to Sarah’s encouragement and advice, Tracy takes a few deep breaths. Once the pressure/pain passes, she stands and turns to face her friend. “Mmmh I guess he is just excited.” She huffs a small laugh.
She should’ve felt vulnerable or at least a little embarrassed standing naked in front of her roommate, thighs slick with birthing fluid but she didn’t. She was completely comfortable with Sarah. They’d even talked about her friend being there along with the midwife for the birth.
“Oh! The midwife!” Tracy suddenly remembers that they need to call her. “She’s in my phone love, can you give her a call for me??” She asks, leaning to kiss Sarah’s cheek before feeling more pressure building.
Immediately Tracy takes up her stance again, palms to the bedspread and rocking hips back and forth. She tries to focus on submitting to the pressure in her hips, her pelvis, but it’s agonizing. “Mmhhhh hhhoooo hhhoooo oohhhhhh god… he’s c-comingggggg. . .” She releases a long moan, her belly hard and tight like an iron boulder.
With the next contraction taking hold of her body so quickly Sarah was torn what to do. She had asked for her phone and to ring the midwife, and it was clear they needed help, but seeing her best friend riding out the wave of pressure and pain… she just couldn’t leave her.
“That’s it darling, keep those sounds nice and low for me.” Sarah said softly, standing right behind her and holding her hips tight. “You got this Mumma.”
Tracy was too busy groaning to convey how much the counter pressure on her hips was helping. Sarah’s hands felt like they were holding her hips together, in the best way possible. “Mmmhhhhh nnghhhh-OOHHH! Sorry we skipped… mmhhhh the cuddling part…” She can’t help but grin as the contraction eventually releases, Tracy’s belly relaxing a bit more.
They’d gone to birth classes together, had practiced all the ridiculous breathing and positions to help labour - giggling a little at some of them. But right now, Sarah was just following her instincts. The pair were still both completely naked from earlier escapades on the bed, and practically standing in the puddle of Tracy’s broken waters, but she didn’t care. Somehow it felt right, like she was supposed to be here, like this, for Tracy. “You’re doing great my lovely. Low and slow, keep rocking and bringing him down.”
Tracy’s sounds got more strained as the contraction peaked, her body so tense beneath Sarah’s hands. She gripped her hips, squeezing and holding them, trying to offer some counterpressure against the wave that was clearly very strong. When it was over, Sarah stayed pressed against her roommate from behind, not wanting to let her go. But she knew she should. Someone had to call Kenzie.
“Stay right there Trace. I’m gonna go grab your phone and some towels. I’ll be right back okay.” And reluctantly she lets go of Tracy’s hips before rushing towards the living room as quickly as she could.
“Mmhhh I’ll be okay, thank you gorgeous.” Tracy says at the end of the contraction. Taking a few steps when Sarah was gone, careful of the puddle on the floor, she noticed how restless her legs felt, her hips feeling better in motion. Labor is weird, Tracy thinks to herself hearing her roommate scrambling around.
“I’m okay Sarah. . . Don’t worry.” She pants out, remembering to breathe the baby down. Tracy’s hands find her belly as she waits for the next contraction. “You’re coming to meet us huh little guy? Go easy on Mumma.” A low sigh slips out when her answer is another contraction starting to build.
“Mmhhhh hhhoooo hhhoooooo…” Tracy tries to stay upright this time, holding onto the bedpost, thinking she can make it through this one alone. “Mmhhh oohhhhh-fuuuucckkkkk!” The slightest urge to push echoes in her mind but she fights it.
In the midst of the overwhelming contraction Tracy’s hips missed Sarah’s hands so much she could cry right then and there. “S-Sarah… oooohhhhhh honey, I n-need your-Nnnhhhhhh!- hands.” She struggles to speak through the incessant pain.
Hearing the desperation in her friend’s groaning made Sarah’s heart clench. Quick! I had to move quickly!
“Where the fuck is her phone??!” Sarah cursed throwing the cushions off the couch haphazardly, digging around pointlessly trying to locate her friend’s phone. She could have kicked herself when she saw it on the coffee table beside Tracy’s glass of iced tea.
“I’m coming Tracy! Just breathe…. Slow deep breaths.” She shouts, running from the living room to the bathroom. Sarah grabbed some towels, how many do they need? One, two, three, is four enough? With the phone in one hand the other cradling a giant pile of towels she rushes back to Tracy’s bedroom.
Deep in the throes of labour her best friend looks almost ethereal with the sunshine streaking behind her silhouette from the wooden slats on her window. Gorgeously curved, absolutely gravid with child, and gripping on to her bedpost while circling her hips in a figure eight. Sarah’s heart nearly stopped at the image alone. But she didn’t have a chance to appreciate the view properly because Tracy’s sounds were getting more and more feral and desperate.
“I’m here, shhhh, I’m here. Where do you need me to—” The towels fell from her arms as Tracy gripped her hand tight and yanked her closer, moving her hand to Tracy’s sweaty lower back. “Right, erm, okay. Same as before?”
The labouring woman couldn’t speak but offered a nod of confirmation followed by a deep groan. Sarah threw the phone on the bed so she could take Tracy’s hips in both hands, cupping her soft skin in her palms as she pressed against them. She could feel Tracy shudder, a noise of pained relief coming from the depths of her chest. Whoa, early labour was way more intense than I expected. Sarah thought to herself as she held her friend’s pelvis together.
“You’re doing great sweetie. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Move however you need. I’ve got you.” She tried to offer some reassurance and comfort, Tracy seemed to be struggling already. She placed a soft kiss on the back of her friend’s left shoulder, nothing too overbearing but enough to tell her she was here. She was with her through this.
“Mmmhhhhh!” Tracy nods quickly, her body calming a little while her friend holds her hips once again. “Hhhhooo hhhooooo he’s coming… oohhhhh god he’s coming….” The pressure kept intensifying between her legs, the heavy feeling in her pelvis was only getting worse. Tracy’s body was starting to feel the need to be more productive. . . like pushing productive.
That couldn’t be right, did I have back labor? Tracy ran through her head how long this labor could’ve actually been.
Once the contraction passes, the mother-to-be slowly stands with her hands on her lower back, making her heavy low belly stick out. “Mmhhh. . . He feels so freaking low Sarah. . .” Tracy takes a sip from the glass of water nearby, letting out a groan when a contraction comes not a minute later.
“Oohh god another one. . . Hhhhooo hhhhoooo mmhhhhhh!” Tracy breathes through most of it but she can’t fight the urge to bear down anymore. With her hands planted on the bed, Sarah’s hands on her back, she can’t help but lower into a semi squat and push.
“Nnnrggghhh. . . Nnnggghhhhh!” The grunts echo in the room, making it clear what she was doing. Tracy couldn’t explain how she knew, it was just a primal need to birth this baby now.
“Whoa— whoa— Tracy— what’s happening?” Sarah’s eyes fly wide open. Tracy had almost thrown the glass of water so quickly it spilt down Sarah’s still-naked body. Suddenly her friend was hunched over, knees bending, and grunting! “Are— are you pushing? Oh Trace, no… you can’t be pushing yet. It’s still really early. We’ve not even called Kenzie yet.”
Sarah’s hands found their way back to Tracy’s lower spine and hips, whose ass was stuck out in her semi-squat and for some reason Sarah instantly held her roommate’s wide hips. Keeping the pressure against her pelvis as she had done no more than two minutes earlier.
Tracy’s waters had broken, so it must be because of a change in where the baby was positioned now her belly wasn’t full of amniotic fluid anymore. That’s why she felt like pushing. Sarah didn’t know what to do. It was so soon to be pushing, it would only tire Tracy out and could do some damage… but the way she was rocking and grunting seemed so natural and primal. Even in her panic, Sarah couldn’t help but be in awe of her best friend in this moment. And very possibly, a little bit in love.
“Try not to push darling, pant through those urges okay. It’s much too soon. I’ll erm…. I’ll call Kenzie. Tell her to come round urgently but she can also help us over the phone. I’m sure it’s too early for pushes Trace.” Sarah’s words were soft but clearly worried. But if Tracy’s grunting sounds of effort were anything to go by… she suspected her friend didn’t hear a word she’d just said.
With a widened stance Tracy barely listens to the encouragement to wait. She finishes a deep push with the contraction before taking a big breath and turning her head towards her friend. Sarah’s hands still braced on her lower back which is heavenly but the words coming from her mouth were all wrong.
“Love he’s c-coming. . . I swear he’s coming now, I think. . . mmhhhh I think I had back labor or s-something.” She pants out heavily, putting a hand on her lower belly and rubbing the spot where the baby rested. He was so low, so close to being born. Tracy’s eyes well up, so overcome with emotion.
“Mmhhhhh I’m l-listening to my body, gorgeous. . . There’s no time to call her.” Soon she feels another contraction coming on, the tightening in her lower belly and pelvis feeling so familiar now. She wasn’t really scared before but Tracy certainly wasn’t scared now. She felt confident in her body, her pushing and her partner.
“Mmhhhhh I’m s-supposed to push love. . . Nnnnrgghhhhhhh!” She lowers into a semi squat again and grunts loudly, pushing down for her child. “I just know it. . . Nnnnnrgghhhhhhh- he’s coming!” Between her thick thighs, the smallest little bulge was starting to form, her son’s head descending slowly but surely.
“Oh Trace, no-no-no— I really don’t think it’s time.” Sarah insists, blindly unaware of the progress being made.
Her heart was thundering, her breath huffing out her lungs as loud as the woman in labour, panic gripping Sarah’s thoughts. Tracy was pushing too soon, she was going to hurt herself. Sarah’s hands stayed on Trace’s hips while she gave into the next urge, sinking her ass down slightly and grunting down almost automatically. Sarah couldn’t stop her, the way she moved, the way she pushed. Even if it was wrong, too soon, the blonde was like a deer caught in the headlights - unable to do anything but watch.
And what a sight. Tracy was incredibly gorgeous in that moment, sweaty and flushed and the sounds she made were going right to Sarah’s core. As Tracy moaned and bore down, more fluid dribbled onto the carpet, and the dampness under her own feet shook Sarah from her reverie.
She couldn’t stop her, but she sure as hell could support and help her friend. Towels… she threw some on the floor and placed them between Tracy’s unnaturally wide legs. Phone… where the fuck did I— the bed! She grabbed her friend’s mobile phone from the bed where she’d thrown it. But it was an android and Sarah had an iPhone. Staring blankly at the lock screen she realised she didn’t know how to work it!
“Trace, I need you to unlock this, I need to call Kenzie!” She waved the phone in front of Tracy’s face, one hand still resting on her lower back, subconsciously keeping contact at all times. But Tracy’s eyes were glassy, rolling or closing with the overwhelming sensations rippling through her heavy labouring body. “Tracy! I need to call the midwife!” She shouted trying to get her attention, but the mother-to-be was lost to the urges and instincts of her body.
While Tracy could hear every word loud and clear, her body’s instincts were louder. Every bit of it was telling her to push, to bear down against the insane pressure the baby was creating in her nether regions. “Mmhhhhh it’s t-timeeeee- Nnnrrgghhhhhhh!”
Her thighs quiver, limbs shaking a bit as labor moves Tracy through the transition phase. There was no way, with words at least, to convey how she knew that it was time. She takes a few breaths before pushing again, focusing on the heavy mass of her son’s head, which was currently beginning to bulge out of body.
“Sarah… Sarah…” Tracy lets out a gasping breath as the contraction ends, Sarah still waving the phone in her face. She grabs the phone, tosses it on the bed and goes back to grab her roommate’s hand. “F-Feel…”
Their hands travel down between Tracy’s legs, guided towards her descending wet sex. What a whirlwind of a day to go from slick with arousal to slick with birthing fluids, she thinks to herself. Together they feel the baby’s head so close to emerging, his heavy weight nestled into Tracy’s hips and waiting for his Mumma to push for him.
“It’s gonna be okay… mmhhh I’ve g-got this…” Tracy groaned as another contraction came. Her belly was longer, like a hanging oval between her legs. There was no time for her to stare in awe, it was time to push again.
“Oh my god….” Sarah’s words were barely a whisper. With her hand between Tracy’s legs she was speechless and shocked to feel the whole of her friend’s lower region bulging out. The head was right there, just inside of her body, so close to coming out. So eager to join them.
With the contraction taking full control of her faculties Tracy left Sarah’s hand between her legs to grip the bedpost with one hand and Sarah’s skinny shoulder with the other. Sarah felt Tracy’s fingers hook over her bony frame, nails almost digging in, as she fiercely bore down. I could actually feel her pushing efforts in my palm!!! Whenever she pushed - the baby pressed against Tracy’s sensitive skin, parting her labia ever so slightly and Sarah could feel it against her soft palm. It was the craziest thing she had ever felt. What her roommate was doing right now, what her body was doing, was nothing short of inspirational.
“He’s… oh wow he’s right there…. You’re doing it… fuck… you’re actually doing it Trace!” Sarah smiled, in shock and awe and wonder as she looked up. Tracy’s rosy flushed face was inches from hers, holding on to her as she pushed with such low grunting sounds, while Sarah’s hand stayed between her legs.
For Sarah, Tracy was a goddess right now; incredible, strong and unbelievably powerful, and the next words that tumbled from her mouth didn’t come from the brain - they came from the heart. “That’s it… push darling… push for me.” Sarah couldn’t stop herself from leaning forward, holding Tracy’s hip and her bulging womanhood in each hand, and she kissed her lover deeply.
“Nnnrggghhhh! Oh my-NNRRGHHH!” Tracy roared, the primal sound was so new but it came so naturally. Her nipples tighten at the feel of Sarah’s hand between her legs, cupping the life inside that she knew Sarah loved just as much as she did. If the past few hours were anything to go by, the pair were at the beginning stages of the rest of their lives.
“Sarah,” She huffs with a flushed face. “Mmhhhh sweetheart, I’m p-pushhhhing for you-NNRGGGHHHHH!” The baby’s head continued to part her labia, the visible coin-size shape was slowly expanding with her efforts. “C-come on baby boy,” Tracy loosened her grip on Sarah’s shoulder but leaned into the kiss. “Mmhhhhh he’s coming…OUT!”
Hearing Tracy say her name, the sound low and gravelled in her throat, which then transformed to a moaning grunt of a push - wow. Sarah had no idea if it was her, her friend, the situation, or a new kink discovery…. But this was absolutely incredible right now. She could feel with every strained sound just a little bit more progress filling the palm of her hand.
Slowly, Tracy breaks away from the sensual kiss, shocked that she could feel so aroused during childbirth. Between Sarah’s caressing hands and encouraging words, Tracy was falling more and more in love with her best friend. She had stood by the mother-to-be through everything, taken care of her, made love to her. Tracy couldn’t have been more aroused if she tried. Deciding to test that theory, she timidly moved Sarah’s fingers up to her clit. The nub between her legs was throbbing, a delightful sensation alongside her son’s crowning head.
Sarah almost pulled away when her roommate grabbed her wrist, thinking perhaps she needed space. But then Tracy moved her hand, silently telling her partner what she needed. Sarah bit her bottom lip, smiling, and then kissed her again.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Sarah whispered against her lips, tasting the salt of the sweat that had dampened every inch of her naked skin. Gently, and oh so slowly, she brushed her thumb over the sensitive bud between Tracy’s thighs. Her fingers curled over the gradually stretching folds, not to inhibit but to support and encourage. And selfishly, to feel for herself each victorious millimetre of progress as more and more of the head pressed out.
“Mmhhhhhh I know you’ve got me,” Tracy hums, staring into Sarah’s eyes before kissing her softly.
Sarah felt her roommate’s breathing catch, the trembling of her knees that quaked her whole body. Wrapping her other arm around Tracy’s waist she held her close, to support in her partial squatted stance. There was no denying it - this baby was coming right here and right now, in Tracy’s bedroom. Sarah kissed her again, whispering soft words of encouragement while her best friend pushed and grunted into her mouth. The sound alone made her stomach flip and heart flutter. God, you were beautiful!
After a rather strong and forceful push the mother-to-be groaned with frustration. If she wasn’t holding the emerging sphere at the apex of Tracy’s thighs Sarah would have been confused, but she understood. The baby had retreated slightly.
“It’s okay sweetie, he’s coming. Just taking it slowly. He’ll be out soon.” She pulled Tracy close, letting her hang against her while she recovered from the contraction. “Take a breath, get all that oxygen down to him. And then we’ll keep going on the next one.”
She could feel Tracy rocking over her hand, grinding against her thumb, so Sarah increased the pressure a little bit. Dancing over and around her clit in more focused moves. It was obviously helping. “That’s it, focus on the pleasure, not the pain. All that pressure and fullness, you are so incredible darling, so ready to give birth. Are you happy delivering here Trace, or do you want to move?”
The part of birth most women were scared of was quickly becoming Tracy’s favorite, and she knew that was only because Sarah was here. Her words, her kisses and her cupping of Tracy’s crowning opening were somehow so erotic. Am I having an orgasmic birth? She had read about those of course, how pleasure can be helpful in managing the pain of childbirth. Tracy never thought she would actually experience it. Here they were though, her best friend’s fingers on her clit, her baby’s head emerging into Sarah’s hand. Tracy’s dark nipples were leaking slowly, droplets of milk dripping down her heavy laboring belly.
“Nnnrgghhhhhhhhh! Keep p-pressing… ooohhhhhhhh my god!” She cried out loudly, clit throbbing against Sarah’s fingers, slick with arousal now, not just birthing fluids. Her baby’s head pushed forward, retreating only a tiny bit now. “He’s c-coming… nnnhhhhhhh he’s coming into… mmhhhh into your hand love.” Tracy didn’t know if something was wrong with her but this was so damn erotic. She was birthing her baby into her girlfriend’s hand… her lover's hand? We’d figure all that out later.
Humming and rocking, Tracy focuses on the pleasure she feels, Sarah’s eyes on her swollen form and the feel of her hand cupping his crowning head. “Mmhhhhh I’m g-good here… right here…” she answers Sarah’s question about moving. Her belly lifts slightly, the oval shape tense with a contraction. “P-pushing for you gorgeous… ooohhh oohhh-NNRGGHHHHHHHH!” Grunting loudly, she felt his head stretching her delicate tissues. It was painful but it was working, she was filling Sarah’s palm up.
Her fingers weren’t taking a break. It was like without a word, Sarah knew that she needed the pleasure. “Sarah!” She cries out the name with a shudder, “Don’t s-stop… mmhhhhh nnnrgghhhhhhhhhh! His head’s COMING!” Tracy gasps as it shoots out into her lover’s hand, her orgasm peaking. Her eyes roll back, her toes curl and a mixture of birthing fluids and arousal gushing out of the birthing woman. Her baby’s head now dangling between her thighs.
The strength of her pushing, her orgasm, and the instant release of pressure made Tracy wobble, knees softening with sudden exhaustion. With the baby’s head in one hand, Sarah’s other arm quickly wrapped around her waist, keeping her safe and steady on her feet.
“Whoa— breathe Trace— you’re okay. The head’s out, you did it!!! You did it darling.” She kissed the side of her lover’s sweaty flushed cheek, gripping Tracy’s waist and keeping one steady hand between her legs. “I need you to hold on to the bed now honey, okay? I need to check how baby is doing.”
Tracy releases a few gasping breaths as she recovers from birthing the head. Unable to answer she nods along and makes sure she steady before Sarah lets her go. “Mmhhh mhhhhh mhhhhh…” Her moans sound primal, natural. Her body feels like this is exactly what it was meant to do. I’m hoping she wants more babies. . . Tracy can’t help but think to herself. Another thought pops into her head, if Sarah had one of their babies… it’s almost enough to send Tracy into another orgasm.
Once Sarah was confident Tracy’s knees weren’t about to give out, and once her hands left her shoulders and moved to the bedpost, she gently let go of her waist. Every inch of her roommate was trembling; adrenaline, exhaustion, orgasm…. an overwhelming combination. Sarah slowly lowered into a squat and knelt on the floor in front of her, eyes roaming every swollen curve of her still-pregnant body on the way down. She noticed the beads of milk from Tracy’s enlarged nipples had managed to get to her bump and were running over its slightly flattened surface. Kneeling between her legs, Sarah’s hands shook and slowly lowered to reveal the head that had not long pushed against her palm. Your son.
“Oh my gosh Tracy, I can see him. I can see his little face. He’s beautiful.” The tears pricked and gathered at the corners of her eyes. Hanging between Tracy’s thighs was the red chubby perfect face of her child.
“I… I don’t know what to do…” uncertainty suddenly sobered the friend up and was now panicking slightly once again. Sarah gently cupped his head, using her hands to wipe some of the blood and fluids from his face. “I erm… I need to check for a cord right…?”
Sarah was monologuing. Neither of them were experts at delivering babies, but she had enough of an interest to retain that fact. She wasn’t sure if Tracy had even heard her, her curvaceous body was swaying ever so slightly and a contented hum was singing from her chest. She didn’t know if she was contracting or just waiting, but Tracy looked very much “in the zone”. A gorgeous labouring woman, standing above her.
“Y-Yes the cord. . . Just feel mmhhhh gently around his neck.” Tracy pants out, her legs spreading a tad bit more. She felt the ache in her hips, one that felt like it was never going to go away. Her baby’s weight was nestled firmly in her pelvis, waiting to be pushed through. It was painful but also the most incredible and rewarding feeling.
She winces when Sarah pushes her fingers inside her abused sex, alongside the baby’s neck. Waiting for confirmation, not wanting to hurt him or herself, before she gears up to push. Once she gets the all clear, her belly tenses once more and she grunts loudly.
“Nnnrgghhhhhhhhhh! C-Come on baby boy… nnnrgghhhhhhh!” Tracy feels light headed for a second, needing to adjust her stance. “S-Squat. . .” She breathes out, starting to carefully turn her body with Sarah’s help. Eventually she settles down, her back resting against the bed, facing her still-naked lover. There’s a mirror across from where the pair are situated, Tracy’s eyes were fixated on the intimate scene of her baby coming. . . hopefully our baby. Her belly is lower than it’s ever been and the shape is an elongated orb. Her full breasts sit atop of it, slowly leaking milk by the drop, nipples large and dark. Tracy’s entire body had a thin sheen of sweat over it, hair was stuck to the sides of her temples. God I’m really birthing.
The best part, her favorite view, was her son’s head hanging from between her legs, curls on his slick head. He looked big, perfect but big. Tracy’s eyes focus on him as she pushes again, watching the fruits of her literal labor.
Tracy was as gorgeous as Mother Earth herself to Sarah at this moment. Her belly still large and full, hanging between her thighs as she squatted down. So primal and flexible and so focused on this ancient beautiful process.
“Yes Trace! Keep it going, big big push for me darling!” Sarah encouraged, her hands shaking slightly between her partner’s legs as she cradled the head of their emerging son. The baby was turning, mouth moving, already wriggling and yet so much of him still to be born. The shoulders pressed against Tracy’s skin, stretching her body open, white and thin as the beginning of his large torso slipped out. “Oooh! One shoulder… two! He’s coming darling. He’s coming!” Sarah blindly narrated, as if the other woman couldn’t feel exactly what was happening. Sarah’s joy and awe and shock all rolled into one.
Even with only his top half delivered Sarah was surprised at how heavy he was, that something so big and weighty had been lodged in her best friend’s hips for so long. No wonder Tracy had struggled so much during these last few weeks.
Tracy could feel her body submitting to the stretch, to the birth. Her son’s torso stretching her open as she worked and strained to bring her child into the world.
On hearing Tracy’s continued grunting pushes, her hands cupped as more and more of the baby emerged. “Keep it going!!! He’s almost here! One more push, sweetie, one more!!!” And with a low primal roar of effort, the baby suddenly shot from Tracy’s body into her waiting palms.
“NNRGGGHHHHH! M-My baby!” Tracy cried out, tears streaming down her cheeks as she felt the heavy weight of her son come out of her sore abused sex. A gush of fluid accompanies him, soaking her thighs and the floor beneath.
Sarah couldn’t help but cry as well, tears rolling down her cheeks as she lifted the wailing new little life and placed him immediately on her roommate’s belly. “Y-you did it Trace…. Here’s… here’s your son.”
“Mmhhhh h-hi. . . hi baby boy.” Tracy’s voice squeaks with emotion. She immediately places a hand on his back, holding him to her no-longer-pregnant belly. “Sarah. . . I couldn’t have done that without you honey.” She gives a tired grin and tilts her lips towards her roommate, her best friend, her partner. “Thank you.”
Sarah felt more tears in her eyes, realizing that this was just the beginning for the three of them. “Anything for you and our newest roommate.” She kisses the baby’s head, pondering when she could give him a brother or sister.
On a nonstop cross country scenic train journey in Switzerland, a dream trip for a pregnant nonbinary person from their husband. Unfortunately their doctors mixed up their due date with another patient with the same last name, and their body is ready to give birth in view of the Alps instead of at home in a few months.
It's an old world panorama train with individual divided compartments, massive windows that give no privacy to anyone who might look in. and they and their husband are lucky to not have to share with anyone else.
They go through progressively more intense contractions as the train moves across the scenic route, they get frustrated trying to get comfortable on very upright seats, eventually using the husband as furniture, telling him where he needs to put his hands to help them, and using his legs and shoulders to support them.
The baby is born in a squat with their legs splayed apart as wide as possible. They started the train journey (8 hours) wearing clothes and they shed everything except their tattoos before the water breaks. Husband is shell shocked that he thought he had a couple of months before he was going to be a dad.
Tried something new with this story!
The dream had started as it was supposed to. A gift of moving light and stone. Elias, your husband, had procured the tickets and handed them to you with a flourish. He’d smiled and crinkled his eyes. “Eight hours of pure peace. For you, my love. Before things get… busy.” The due date, by the spreadsheet, was three months away. The last, hushed lullaby in a series of precisely planned amenities. One last run on the Glacier Panorama Express, a restored vintage train that sliced through the heart of the Swiss Alps, on its way from Zürich to Grindewald and Furka. Floor-to-ceiling windows so wide they framed the world like a god.
Your body, swollen and ready, had other ideas. Some clerical mistake, you would later learn, files mixed up with another pregnant individual with your last name. A wrong due date circled on a calendar. Your body, in the end, was smarter than they were.
The first contraction had come when the train rolled past the suburbs of Zürich, a bright and shocking pinch in the deep cradle of your pelvis. It had made you gasp for breath. You’d thought it was a Braxton-Hick. This was different. Deeper. Tectonic. You shook your head to clear it and focused on the approaching green foothills. Elias, solicitous, brought you a peppermint tea from the thermos.
By the time Lake Lucerne unfolded next to the tracks, a broad sheet of hammered blue steel nestled under a soaring cathedral of peaks, your body had set a rhythm. Every twenty minutes, like a clockwork heartbeat. A slow, sure sinking. Your fist was white in the polished mahogany armrest. “Elias,” you hissed. “Something’s wrong.”
He was immediately in crisis mode, but still working in the narrow field of simple emergencies. “Should we get off at the next station? Call a doctor?” But of course. The train was a sealed capsule, a nonstop rush through paradise. The conductor, when Elias ran to his tiny compartment and frantically waved him over, was very, very British and very politely immovable. The next station with any kind of medical facilities was Interlaken. Four hours away.
The great, untouchable world outside began to mock you. The floor-to-ceiling windows, designed to make you gasp in your day dress and best travel sports coat, suddenly felt like bars in a goldfish bowl. You were on display, your unseen private agony burning in a frame of the epic. The train had begun its climb into the true Alps, and your body had climbed with it. Ten minutes. Five.
You could not find any position of comfort. The seats were upright, classically beautiful replicas of 1920s vintage, but hard as bone. You tried kneeling on the floor, forehead against the cool velvet of the seat, but the rocking of the train made you lose your balance. Your body was demanding a primordial posture, and this was a compartment of polite travel.
“Elias,” you growled. The sound was inhuman, a broken noise from some animal place in your throat. “Help me.”
He was pale and dazed. The spreadsheets, the birthing classes, the immaculately packed hospital bag in the overhead compartment—all were three months away. A whole world away. But he was by your side. You had to tell him where to kneel, where to hold you. Voice low and ripping between contractions, “Sit there. Legs apart. I need to squat.”
He did. Braced his back against the compartment door. You faced him, stripped of all your niceties, one by one. The loose linen dress, the soft maternity leggings, the underwear. Your body was larger than it had ever been, but all of this felt like too many layers of clothing, unbearable drag. Kneeling before him, then, as a particularly violent contraction closed over you, rising to a deep squat and bracing your hands on his knees. Mountain air rushed at you from the open window vent, cold and sweet on your naked skin. The tattoos you had chosen as protective armor were all your now had. The spiral galaxy, intricate as a circuit board, hugging your round belly. The phoenix that ran in flames down your spine and across your back. You were a primal canvas, a living work of art, inside a gold leaf frame.
“Your hands,” you panted. “On my lower back. Push. Hard.” He did, and it helped. His rough hands clamped in counter-pressure on your back as you heaved and moaned. The space behind you was a mountain. The Jungfrau, the “Top of Europe,” one of the tallest freestanding mountains in the world. A pillar of rock and ice, millennia old, cold and indifferent and towering.
The waters broke. A rush of warm fluid across your knees, then the open air of the window vent. You felt it behind you, then everywhere at once. The clear fluid was followed instantly by a sensation you could not escape. A slow, red flame eating at your insides. The baby was coming. Right now.
“I can’t—I can’t stop it,” you shrieked. It was the first time in your life you had been truly afraid.
“What do I do?” Elias’s voice was a cracked whisper. His eyes were wide with a love so deep it was breaking apart into horror.
“You just… stay here!” you commanded. You tightened your grip, your feet more widely planted on the plush carpet, your knees screaming at your thighs. Spread your legs as far apart as the space allowed, use me as your furniture. You used his body to anchor yourself, steer yourself, wrench down through the wall between your legs, hold on. Your hands moved from his knees to his shoulders, your fingers raking in his flesh as you sank lower into the squat, your thighs trembling. He held on, becoming your immovable mountain.
You could feel everything. The ring of fire was not a metaphor, not an old wives’ tale. It was a full-body, white-hot corona of pain as the crown of your child’s head pulled at you, tore at you, beyond all endurance. You screamed, a low, broken keening that must have filled the small compartment, surely carried to the next car. The train had entered a short tunnel, and in the sudden roar of darkness, you pushed with the last molecule of your strength.
The head crowned. In the washed-out daylight, Elias’s face was a mask of shock and awe. “The head… I see the head,” he whispered.
“Catch them,” you snarled. “You have to catch them.”
One more push, molten magma in your veins, and your child was out in a rush of blood and vernix, a slippery, blue-tinged slick of brand new, into the waiting, trembling hands of their father. Thick, live umbilical cord still bound you to them, a rope of energy and light. For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the rhythmic clatter of the tracks and your own ragged breaths. Then a sharp, indignant wail, a tearing animal sound you recognized at once as entirely human, rang through the compartment and into the ageless landscape.
Elias, openly weeping, used your child as an impromptu burrito, his open hands rubbing at their limbs against his bare chest. He used his own sweater to massage them, rubbing them at their tiny, swollen feet and ankles and hands. You slumped back, panting and shaking with adrenaline and relief, onto the soiled carpet. A final, less dramatic expulsion of afterbirth, and you were all there was, all you needed to be.
With shaking hands and the vaguest memory of some first-aid class Elias had taken ten years ago in Tokyo, your husband used the cleanest of your discarded towels and the silk cord that held the window blind in place to tie off the umbilical cord. He positioned your child—your perfect, squalling daughter—onto your heaving chest. Skin to skin, the galaxy on your belly now cradling a real, tiny star.
The Glacier Panorama Express rounded a bend and the towering, improbably whole spectacle of the Eiger, Mönch, and Jungfrau Alps filled the window, each a gleaming divinity in a trio of ice and rock. You were naked and bleeding and boneless on the floor of a train at least a hundred years old, but you had never felt more powerful, more fully yourself. Elias fell down next to you, his arm around your shoulders, his head against your chest, his tears wetting your temple.
The compartment was a ruin of beautiful, violent grace: metallic smell of blood and birth and womb, the ruined luxury of the plush carpet soiled and sodden, your discarded clothes and Elias’s jacket kicked and strewn around the two of you and your new daughter on the floor. You had imagined a sterile, modern hospital room for the birth of your first child. This was its opposite.
As the train began the long, slow descent towards Interlaken, you knew the conductor would be called, paramedics would be waiting, the explanations would be dizzying. But in these last, quiet miles, cradled in the stone arms of the Alps, there were just three of you. A half-mad husband, a nonbinary parent who had just emerged from the wildest of wildlands, and the brand-new, Alpine-born daughter who had not arrived in some numbered hospital room, but instead in a moving cathedral of light and mountain, right on her own, utterly mistaken schedule.
A young family is driving on their way to a little family vacation. The family consist of the father and mother and their teenage son and young daughter. Little did the family know the mother was already in hard labor. She’d been in it all morning. Detail like the labor in the car, the husband still driving, while the children shoot off worried questions, especially the daughter who is very interested in labor and birth. Finally have the mother’s water break after a particular hard contraction, and she must move to the back where her children help deliver their little sibling, again with the daughter shooting off a thousand questions. Make the birth rather hard and graphic too. She has to work to get their little sibling home. The dad just keeps driving.
The Johnson family sedan was a closed system. A steel-and-plastic capsule, windowed to the world, careening through sun-dappled cottonwood and pine between miles and miles of Mississippi pine forest. Cool, recirculated air rushed past Linda Johnson’s face and lips, thick with the residual scent of pine car freshener. The gentle vibration of the car on the pavement was like a metronome beneath her, keeping time with the external hum of an interstate highway on a Friday afternoon in May. A perfect microcosm of their lives. Fragile and about to shatter.
Linda was shifting in the passenger seat. She was accustomed to long stretches of uncomfortable silence. It had been her lot, along with the important but underappreciated work of driving, ever since she and her husband, Mark, had become parents eleven years ago. But today had been different. This morning had come with a low, rhythmic throbbing in her abdomen. She had put off even acknowledging it, in the false belief that if she didn’t notice, it wasn’t real. She’d gone about the family’s business as usual: work calls, packing suitcases, and drop-offs at daycare and school for Chloe, ten, and Ethan, sixteen. The pain in her core had built slowly, imperceptibly, from dawn until about two hours into their trip. Now it was distinct. It came in waves. During each, it felt like someone was stabbing a large screwdriver into her lower back and pelvis and holding it there. The pain was focused, narrowed in on one small spot of fleshy tissue. During each contraction, she gritted her teeth and thought of anything but the long, slow journey of that imaginary tool through her body.
“You’re quiet, Lin,” Mark said, sliding his hand from the steering wheel to rest on her knee. She flinched at his touch, her whole body suddenly alert to him, to his presence.
“I’m fine,” she said. She glanced at her phone in her lap, where she’d been quietly timing her contractions. Five minutes apart, each lasting sixty seconds. Textbook active labor. The flicker of the phone screen was reflected in her wide, fearful eyes.
“You just look… tired,” she continued. “Maybe we could stop at the next rest stop? I could use a walk.”
A walk. She’d had delusions of more, she admitted. Of pulling over before the pain became overwhelming and going to the hospital. Of at least managing to keep her pants dry. She imagined a sterile gurney, a calming epidural, and a place where she could wail into a sterile pillow.
“Chloe,” the nine-year-old said from the backseat. Her voice was small but authoritative. “Mom’s breathing that way in the how-to videos. The hee-hee-hoo kind.” Chloe’s nose was buried in a thin, dog-eared library copy of The Birth Partner. It was neither an ebook nor an audiobook, as she had originally tried to check out, but a physical volume. She’d checked it out with quiet determination when she first learned of the pregnancy. “Is it called the uterine surge, Mom? Are the contractions syncopated or symmetrical?”
“Chloe, give your mother a minute,” Mark said, gently, but his eyes kept darting back to his wife’s profile in the passenger seat. Sweat glinted on her temple. Her nostrils flared with each perfunctory exhale.
“I’m just going by the data,” Chloe continued, unruffled. “The context is relevant for any biological event.”
The next contraction did not politely wait for her to finish her sentence. It slammed into her like the grinding of tectonic plates. It started deep in the bowels of her and traveled outward through every vein and nerve ending, like slow lava, stopping at nothing in its wake. The pain was all-encompassing, and she couldn’t help but groan.
“Linda?” Mark said sharply, tugging his hand back to his own steering wheel.
“It’s… gonna be okay,” she panted out, but at the peak of the pain, which coalesced to a white-hot knot of pressure against her spine, the word petered out into a sob. “It’s…just a big one.”
Ethan yanked his earbuds from his ears. He’d been staring at the trees rushing past, daydreaming. But a sound like a cross between a growl and a bellow, a sound he’d never heard his mother make before, was enough to jolt him out of his reverie. “Whoa. Mom? Dad, we need to stop.”
“There’s nowhere for miles, son,” Mark said. His voice was edged with panic. The car lurched forward as he mashed the accelerator pedal. The GPS navigation system embedded in the dashboard cheerfully informed them the next hospital was 68 miles away.
It happened not with a trickle, but a tsunami. During her next contraction, a cataclysmic, back-arching wall of pain that made her cry out, a hot stream shot from her. It splashed with a sharp noise across the passenger seat. The smell hit them all at once: thick, heavy, sweet, salty, and metallic. Like cut flesh, like intestines.
“Oh, God,” Linda sobbed. She sank down against the seat, humiliated and terrified. “Mark, my water… broke. It’s happening. Now.”
The interior of the car became deathly silent, filled with the whine of the engine and a stupefied lack of comprehension. Chloe leaned forward, white-knuckled into the plastic backseat headrest. “The amniotic fluid is clear; that’s a good sign. And there’s no meconium. That’s another good sign.”
“A good sign?” Ethan demanded, his voice breaking. “We’re in the fucking car! Dad, just STOP.”
“And deliver your sister on the gravel shoulder with eighteen-wheelers screaming past?” Mark’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. “Okay. If this is where we are, we have to get her to the hospital. I’m getting us there.” His eyes flicked around the small screen in the dashboard. No exits. No signs for gas stations. Not a single speck of civilization for miles and miles. “Linda, I need you to do this. You can do this, Lin. You’re strong. Just breathe and focus. Breathe and focus.”
But her body was beyond being reasoned with. The pain spiked like a lightning bolt, and suddenly, there was another sensation. It was all-consuming, a physical need so strong that all of her concentration and willpower could not match it. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!” She panted, her voice frayed and small. “The baby… I need to push. The baby’s coming. I NEED TO PUSH.”
There was a primal, grinding noise as she sank down into her seat and brought her hands to her abdomen. She covered her lower stomach and pelvis in small, shaking fists of sundress fabric and began to scream. The sound echoed around the car, a full-throated wail of effort and pain.
“Ethan, Chloe,” Mark said, all bluster and battlefield general. “We need to get her to the back of the car. Now. Ethan, can you help me flip the seats around?”
There was a sudden burst of action in the car. Ethan, on a rush of adrenaline, dove across the center console at Linda’s feet while she, half crazed with the pressure building in her pelvis and abdomen, awkwardly and very slowly began to shuffle backward in the seat, knees creaking and folding onto themselves as she crossed over the seatbelt across her chest. Chloe was on her feet, hurling open the suitcases stowed behind their seats, flinging snack bags and school backpacks onto the floor behind the front seats. The car, normally a well-organized place of efficiency and comfort for their three-person family, was now a crowded, unmanageable, crappy delivery room.
Linda collapsed onto her makeshift bed on the floor, the front seat a makeshift backboard, her legs braced before her, bent and wobbling. The car suddenly felt cavernous, a cold, sterile opera house, the inside of which was a choral drama of blood and tissue. Linda stared at the inside of the roof fabric, at all the things she was not ready to think about.
“Okay, Mom,” Chloe said, kneeling by her head, mopping her forehead with a greasy fast-food napkin. “The book says to wait until you feel the peak of the contraction and then take a deep breath, tuck your chin, and push into your bottom. You should avoid screaming; it’s an energy waster. Visualize, Mom. Use the power of your mind.”
“I don’t… care… about your stupid book!” Linda grunted, but on the next wave, she heeded Chloe’s advice. She gasped in a lungful of air, curled forward, and used every muscle she possessed to bear down. A long, ragged, straining moan came from Linda’s throat.
“I can see it!” Chloe exclaimed, peering over the sightlines between her mother’s legs with the intense, unfettered focus of a research scientist. “It’s the head! It’s crowning! There’s so much hair! It’s dark, like Ethan’s hair.”
Ethan, who had wriggled all the way around the front passenger seat, felt the color drain from his face. The sight was transfixing and awful at once. His mother’s body was contorting in a way he did not know possible, torn asunder by some primal force of nature. Raw human tissue was visible before him, red and oozing and shiny. A wrinkled, blood-and-placental-mucus-smeared patch of scalp, its tiny umbilical cord dangling off like an afterthought. It was both grotesque and awe-inspiring, the most graphic and intimate thing Ethan had ever seen. The sight of his mother this exposed and distorted, her intestines and organs as obvious to him as the bones in his hands, ripped away a final layer of any remnants of childhood innocence. Ethan had never been scared of childbirth, a process he’d heard about and seen via videos with Chloe and even held contractions with during a birthing class his mom had taken two years ago. But this. This right here was the abject, physical reality of what he and his siblings were built from. Of his own generation and life. He was shuddering with the reality of it, in awe of his mother’s body and its will to keep working, to stretch and push and tear and yield, in a way he didn’t know he was capable of.
“It’s not coming!” Linda cried after a Herculean effort of pushing with no evidence of progress. The rending, burning sensation inside her was absolute and unyielding. “It’s stuck!”
“It’s not stuck, Mom; you’re just in the ring of fire phase,” Chloe explained. Her voice was quiet, but her small hands were shaking. “Your perineum needs to stretch to its maximum diameter. You have to fight through the burn.”
“I CAN’T!”
“You have to!” Mark’s voice barked from the driver’s seat. His face was sweaty and streaked with tears. “You’re the strongest person I know, Lin. You’re the strongest person I know! Push our baby out!”
His words rang in her head. And on the next contraction, Linda, barely able to breathe or think, found her reserves. On Chloe’s signal, she screamed and pushed. A ripping, burning stretch deep in her pelvis and thighs, a sensation that her very insides were giving way, and then, with one final desperate heave, an astonishing, sudden release.
The baby’s head shot out with a squelching, sticky pop.
“The head is out!” Chloe squeaked. “She’s facing down; that’s a good sign! Okay, Ethan, we need to check for the cord.”
Ethan, fumbling as if in a dream, reached down between his mother’s legs. His fingers were so large compared to the tiny, purple-tinged head before him. He poked his index finger into the nape of the neck. He found the cord, and it was there, a slippery, loose structure, but it was not wrapped, not tight. “The cord is clear,” he reported, his voice a deep and foreign rumble.
“Okay, Mom,” Chloe said. “The next contraction should bring the shoulders. One more big push!”
Linda was on her last nerve. On the brink of some other plane of existence, where everything was pain and energy and screaming and no longer discernible. But a piece of her was listening to Chloe. A persistent, stubborn piece that wouldn’t let her give up. A piece that heard her children’s whispers and the sound of her own baby kicking, fluttering around her eardrums. With one final, desperate wail, she summoned the last of her wits and power and pushed.
It did not emerge slowly and serenely. It was a glorious, gushing, wet, awful cascade, as if the baby had been torn out in one awful rush. The shoulders slipped out first, one, then another, covered in blood and amniotic fluid, and then the rest of the body all at once, in one horrific wave. With one final burst, as if on cue, the placenta released, washing over the backseat carpet in a greater flood of blood and amniotic fluid, and then it was all over.
Laid out, naked and slick with fluids, in Ethan’s flannel shirt, in Ethan’s unsteady, unsure hands, the new baby writhed and shook. The tiny, limp, blue-tinged body, born too soon and not expected to survive, drew a quick, ragged breath.
And then the baby screamed.
It was a full-throated, desperate, raging cry, a refusal to be born dead. The wail filled the car, drowning out the din of engine, air, and road, bouncing from wall to wall. Limbs thrashed. Skin paled blue, then flushed to a furious, beautiful pink in seconds. A spit bubble and strand of dark hair the baby wiped across her nose. The baby was wet and slick with blood and vernix. A blubbery purple patch of scalp over her newly delivered scalp, blood pooling over one dark eye. And the cry, a healthy, roaring cry, the life force of a new human being ringing around the car and flooding every cell of her mother’s body with disbelief and exultation and love. The baby screamed.
“She’s crying!” Chloe shrieked, bouncing on her knees. “Mom! She’s perfect! You did it! She’s here!”
Linda, shaking and exhausted, raised her head. The sight of her baby daughter, pink and screaming in her son’s awkward, unsteady, shocked hands, was the sort of euphoria-inducing experience that rivaled any pain she’d ever felt in her entire life. She laughed, a wet, sobbing laugh, and cried, tears running down her cheeks. She laughed and cried and loved and was awed and overcome.
Ethan stared at the thing in his hands, connected to his mother by this pulsing, living cord. His mother was tear-streaked, exhausted, and relieved. She smelled of pine air freshener, sweat, and placenta. But the sound of the baby’s cry had hit him like a sledgehammer. She was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. He was no longer afraid. He was in wonder.
“Mark,” Linda wept, reaching a shaking hand into the back of his headrest. “Mark, she’s here. She’s here. It’s a girl.”
Mark finally lowered his shoulders, which had been hunched around his ears for the better part of an hour. He emitted a single, ragged sob that ended in a choked snort of air. He continued driving, his eyes streaming quiet tears, searching for the signs to the hospital now just twenty minutes away. It was not over, not by a long shot: they’d still need to deal with placental delivery and the cord, the cleaning, and what the hell to do with these kids. But it was done; it was over. The hard part was over. It was May; the family was on vacation; they were alive and safe, and on the other side of the door was their newest member, snuggling into the skin of their son.
In the backseat, Chloe was already issuing instructions, pushing through the shock and adrenaline. “Ethan, keep her tilted with Mom. She needs to stay warm. Dad, is there a towel in the trunk? And we should be monitoring for the placenta. It should detach within thirty minutes, Mom; it’ll feel like more cramps.”
But Linda wasn’t listening. She was looking at her family, at Ethan, her firstborn, awkwardly cradling her newborn daughter. At Chloe, their little girl, the protector, her face smeared and eyes shining with the electricity of it all. The car was a mess of fluids, a meat locker of gore. But on the floor, wrapped in Ethan’s flannel shirt, their daughter screamed her imperfect, grotesque way into the world, a triumphant testament not only to the prodigious strength of one woman but also to the miracle of this odd little family that in one final, frantic, gruesome moment had been willing to do anything to keep her safe. The family vacation had gone out the window. This, this was the trip.
Enby Preggers @enbypreggers - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
