(Birth Denial Request Game)
When the first really bad cramp came on, they were standing in line, waiting to board. At the time, they thought it was just their luck to have an IBS flare-up on a 6-hour flight.
They were already thousands of feet over an ocean when they realized what was really happening. It was the turbulence that did it. The rocking and bumping caused the sensation of something shifting inside them, knocking excruciatingly into their lower back and hips. They were still aware of that shape when the next cramp gripped them tight, so they felt in vivid detail when it inched down inside their squeezing body. A frightened flicker of realization began to kindle in their throat, taking up all their oxygen, as the pressure worked steadily down between their hips like a goddamn hydrologic press.
A whimper of fear escaped them. Beside them, a stranger with sleep mask on and earbuds in grumbled gently.
Frantically, they opened their jacket and pressed their hands to their belly, panting as they stared at how the gentle curve of it stretched their favorite t-shirt. They shook their head numbly. When was the last time they even… god, that party, but that was like a year ago, right? Well- 11 months. Maybe a little less. So, if- if they were overdue, maybe… no. No, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be.
They kept thinking that, repeating it in their head, until their belly hardened and changed shape under their hands. It was so easy to see it now, the muscles squeezing their uterus, compressing it and angling it perfectly to send the head—
Ohh, oh god, the head was big. It was ramming directly into their spine. Their hand lunged instinctively for the buckle, and they started to stand, no idea where they were trying to go, their body trying to run from the pain. They practically climbed over the middle and aisle seats, mumbling apologies, with every step feeling their joints rotating around the head.
A flight attendant looked up at the movement, and tried to tell them they needed to sit down, but they kept lumbering towards the lavatory door. Thank fuck, it was unoccupied. “Need the bathroom,” they called without turning.
They stumbled into the extremely tiny room and fumbled to lock it behind them before collapsing onto the toilet, the jolt making them cry out.
A knock on the door. “Hey, you need to return to your seat immediately. It’s not safe!”
A fevered laugh broke out of them, and they shook their head. “I can’t. I can’t. I think- I’m—“
“Are you injured? Please unlock the door.”
“No, I think I’mmmaaaAAAUGH!” They bent forward, clutching their belly as the worst contraction yet forced the pressure further down. “Ohhh nooooo, god noooo…”
“Shit. Get the key,” someone said, and footsteps retreated. The poor birther’s eyes grew teary with sheer humiliation, but maybe it was for the best. They needed help.
Then the plane lurched. A terrible racket filled the room, and through the blur of pain and tears they saw the fucking plane caving in. Screaming, they covered their head and spun as far sideways on the toilet as they could, knees knocking into the wall.
But as the noise settled and they remained alive, they realized what had looked like a wall panel was actually the door to a supply closet, and the shelving unit inside had come loose and fallen out. The hefty metal shelf now literally crossed through the entire room, having broken off the entry handle and scraped the very tip of the toilet seat on its way down. They stared at the space, feeling a little sick with the realization that their knees might have gotten mangled if they hadn’t moved.
In all the commotion, they had managed to forget for a second what was happening to them, but their body reminded them, clenching suddenly, unbearably tight, making them yelp and groan with the sudden, unsettling need to push.
The door rattled open, but slammed immediately against the fallen shelf. They flinched, only to cry out as that made it worse.
Voices from outside. “Hello? Are you conscious? Are you hurt?”
“I’m- hoooouuuugh. I’m okay,” they wheezed. “Uh. Or. I mean, I didn’t get hurt, but, but I’m— not okay, I- hoooh. I… think I’m giving birth?”
Hearing themself say it made them feel a little dizzy. Everything suddenly felt very far away as the people outside the door tried to ask follow up questions, such as what the fuck were they talking about, and how did they even get on the plane while pregnant, and they answered from a distant place of shock, a string of ashamed, “I don’t know”s that finally broke off with a long laboring groan.
The airline employees then switched tactics to trying to help. The racket as they tried to break the plastic door set the poor passenger’s teeth on edge, as if they didn’t have enough stress. It didn’t end up amounting to anything, anyway. Finally most of them gave up and returned to their other duties, though a flight attendant who was a mom, herself, stayed at the door and kept telling them to breathe.
They labored there for hours, feeling the weight getting lower and lower. They tried not to push, but it was difficult, and they ended up indulging little pushes just to feel the ever so slight relief of agency. But soon, they could feel their crotch bulging against the seam of their jeans.
“Hoooh, fuuuuck, it’s getting so low,” they moaned, trying not to think about how everyone in the plane could probably hear. “Hmmmn, god, it hurts.” The locked-tight muscles just inside their pussy had begin to burn as the head pressed through.
From outside the bathroom, there came advice and platitudes, but they didn’t really hear them. They bit down on their sleeve, feeling saliva gather at the corners of their mouth as they thought about how badly they wanted to be anywhere but sitting on this toilet right now. What they would give to be able to squat down, or get on their hands and knees, just to budge this horrible weight…
The next one came on fast. They dropped their forehead against the wall and groaned. “Ohhhh. Ohh, fuuuck-“ And suddenly it got worse. They jolted and shook their head. “Shit! Fuck, it’s close, it’s gonna come out soon, fuck, my fucking pussy…”
Instinctively, they leaned back as far as they could. But even with the edge of the low counter digging into their back, they couldn’t get enough space to move. Their knees were lodged at an angle against the wall. Stuck together.
“Oh, fuck,” they whispered, and started to shake their head. “Oh no. It’s gonna get stuck. It’s gonna get stuck, it’s gonna— AAAAUGH!”
The burning licked through their mind, devouring any sense of calm. Their knees jerked helplessly against the wall, trying to spread, but their body was denied even as the head began to split their cunt.
“Noooo!” they groaned. “It’s stuck, it can’t come out, ohhh my pussy, my pussy, my pussy…”
They had never felt a pain like this. Yet thirty seconds later, it got worse.
“My pussy!” Their shriek rang out. “It hurts! It’s stuck! It’s stuck, I can’t spread my legs, the head’s stuck, it’s stuck in my pussy!”
The flight attendant tried to get them to calm down, but it was a lost cause. They squeezed their fingers between their legs and sobbed out as they felt the hair on a small slimy head lodged between their thighs.
“It’s so big,” they whimpered. “Too big in my pussy… hurts so bad…”
They devolved into repeating such sentiments, groaning and wailing and rocking in place the little that they could, forced to crown a massive overdue head for the last hour of the flight.
By the time the plane landed and the authorities got the bathroom door off, the birther had cried themself to dehydration, their words were mere rasps, and their pussy was stretched beyond recognition. As soon as strong hands lifted them up, they threw their hips back and pushed out the head with a primal grunt. It hung out of them, dripping and bobbing as they gasped for breath, then began to turn when they kept pushing. One last stab of pain ripped a shriek from them as both shoulders burst out at once. And just like that, gloved hands caught the child they hadn’t even known was inside them when the flight took off.
“She’s huge,” the EMT marveled.
The birther croaked a laugh, feeling their gaping pussy flutter, and said, “I know.”
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