Daisy was in love with her son. At twenty years old, he was the perfect boy, with gentle eyes and soft curls he kept long enough to whisper against his neck. He was kind, and sweet, and on the pre-med track at a college not too far from home. No one could ask for a better son if they'd tried. ... But plenty of people loved their sons. There must be something seriously wrong with her-- I mean, she'd never been interested in him before, not like this. But being thirty-eight and desperately needing to have another baby, she needed to improvise.
She'd been so many dates, but apparently men her age are looking to settle down. Men her age aren't looking to breed, but to marry. She'd burned through her Tinder matches, all of them uncomfortable with the idea of breeding a random woman, or looking for commitment. Daisy looked at herself in the mirror, hands rubbing over her flat stomach, feeling an ache.
And then she heard her son come home.
Cedar was a good boy. A mama's boy through and through. His father left before he was born, but mommy had been with him every step of the way. So of course he would come home to visit her on long weekends and holidays.
A terrible idea came to her mind. She hated herself for it instantly, but something about it tugged at her. Cedar is young, his seed would be strong, potent.
He wouldn't even have to know.
The rest of the day was a blur. She barely paid attention to anything that her son said, thinking only of her plan for the evening.
She was going to get pregnant.
Cedar was going to get her pregnant.
Daisy was only a little concerned the sleeping pills she'd crushed up and hidden in his dinner would make it hard for him to get it up.
She stared at him, asleep in his bed. Lucky for Daisy, he slept on his back, in only his boxers. Daisy slowly, slowly climbed in bed beside him, feeling the heat radiate from her son's bare chest. Her gentle fingertips grazed over the bulge in his underwear, feeling her son's cock instinctively swell at the contact.
"That's it, baby," she whispered, slender fingers moving down the waistband of her son's underwear, watching as his cock sprung free. Impressive, long and thick with a curve that made her rub her legs together. Yes, it was so wrong, but mommy wanted her boy.
Daisy's fingers stroked at Cedar's cock, slow and gentle, watching the way it twitched in the cool evening air. Cedar shifted in his sleep, and Daisy's fingers stopped, terrified of him waking up and realizing what she was doing.
But he didn't wake. Cedar's gentle snores once again filled the air and his mommy's finger's started to tease his cock once again.
She worked her hand up and down her son's shaft, fingertips tracing the veins along the sides. In his sleep, Cedar's hips stirred, his lips parting to let out a soft moan.
Precum dribbled out, and Daisy couldn't help but smile. Her sweet son was quickly approaching his orgasm, all because his mommy's expert hand. She was fast and silent, moving herself against him. Daisy yanked up her nightgown, her wet pussy sliding against the tip of her son's cock. She wiggled her hips against him, wishing so badly she could sink down on his cock and fuck him.
But that wasn't part of the plan. And it would certainly wake him up.
Instead, Daisy simply rolled her hips against his, the friction of her messy, soft pussy against her son's hard cockhead made her want to cum almost instantly. She let out soft, hushed pants, silently begging for her son to cum against her pussy so she could run back to her room in shame. Even still, as she humped along the length of her own son's cock, the head rubbing against her clit, Daisy wished it would never end. She wished she could impregnate herself on her son's cock over and over and over again.
As his mommy's humps got quicker, more sporadic, Cedar neared the edge himself. With a soft grunt, Cedar's unconscious body twitched forward against mommy, shooting out his cum all over her waiting, greedy cunt.
Daisy almost laughed with relief, moving his cock so just the very tip of it was inside her cunt, before pulling up his underwear and scurrying off to her room, Cedar still sleeping peacefully in his bed. She ran to her bed, hoping none of that virile seed spilled out of her cunt. She laid on her back, knees to her chest, praying that her son's seed found its mark.
A hand trailed from her knee down to Daisy's pussy, rubbing circles against her clit. God, it was so fucking wrong. It was depraved, disgusting, immoral. But it was so fucking hot. She rubbed her son's cum over her clit, feeling so unbelievably lucky. She was going to be pregnant again.
--
As much as she told herself it was a one-time thing, Daisy couldn't help but yearn for Cedar. He'd stayed with her for three nights this long weekend, and each of the three ended with her giving her son sleeping pills and playing with his cock until he came inside her.
And Cedar hadn't found out.
Not once did he wake while Daisy was in his room, nor did he question why he woke up with a messy cock. Daisy wondered how often her son had wet dreams, if it was normal for him to cum in his sleep.
A part of her hoped not. The part of her that wanted to be punished for what she did hoped Cedar realized something was wrong, that mommy was a disgusting pervert.
But most of her was desperate to see her son again soon, to get bolder with the way she played with him, to suck him and ride him.
Days went by without any news and Daisy assumed no one had discovered how she touched Cedar. Weeks went by, and she discovered she was pregnant. Her belly swelled with her son's offspring, soon weighing heavily on her hips. She was larger, she noticed, than she was at four months pregnant with Cedar. Her belly filled out quickly, her body remembering how to grow from her last pregnancy. Soon she looked quite far along, despite only just beginning her second trimester.
She told her son she'd gotten pregnant, though she lied about the father. It was some guy, she said. It was a one night stand, and she hasn't seen him since.
When Cedar came home for Christmas, he hugged Daisy. Told her how sorry he was about what happened, about the idiot who had left her.
God, what a good boy.
Daisy mixed sleeping pills into his eggnog that night, and when he fell asleep on the couch, she unbuttoned her son's pants and sucked his cock. He came down her throat, the first time she got to taste him. Her son's cum was delicious, the perfect lube for when she took his fingers and shoved them into her pussy.
Forcing her son to fingerfuck her cunt was the best gift Daisy had ever given herself. She came around the three digits she'd used, before cleaning off his hand with a wet wipe. Careful to tuck his softened cock back into his pants, Daisy kissed her son's forehead, whispering goodnight.
--
With May came the end of Cedar's sophomore year of college, meaning he would be moving back home. Daisy was thrilled, to say the least. It was a relief to have the father of her child back in the house, and having someone to mess around with made it even better.
The first night he returned Daisy was so excited. She waddled to meet him at the door, her t-shirt riding up to reveal the bottom of her pregnant belly, the skin stretched taut and covered in angry red stretch marks. When she hugged Cedar, her swollen belly pressed against his, keeping them too far apart for her liking.
"Hi, sweetie," Daisy hummed as they parted, despite every part of her wanting to take him right there, to finally let him inside her pussy.
"Hi, mommy," Cedar smiled, feeling the expanse of her pregnant belly. Though he didn't want to admit it, Cedar had started watching porn starring pregnant women since his mother got knocked up.
Daisy led him in, one hand supporting her gravid middle, the other as a brace for her back. She let him get settled, continuing to work on dinner. Her back ached, her feet sore, but she so desperately wanted to finish making dinner. The sooner it was done, the sooner the drugs were in Cedar's system, the sooner she could touch him.
The evening went slowly, a creeping anticipation building in mommy's stomach, settled in below her filled up womb.
She said goodnight to Cedar, and went back to her room to wait for him to fall into that deep, delicious sleep.
It was only about an hour before she tiptoed into Cedar's bedroom, finding him snoring away, the bulge in his boxers calling to her.
Mommy waddled up to Cedar's bed, quick to pull down his underwear and free the massive cock from its prison.
Fuck, she couldn't take it anymore. Nine months of touching him and not once has he woken up.
Daisy was going to ride him.
She climbed onto her son, her bare pussy pressed against the base of his shaft.
"Mm... Look at that, baby. Your cock is so big it's gonna knock against mommy's womb," she whispered, humping herself against his thick cock.
The only reaction Cedar gave was a twitch that ran from base to tip, his cock slapping itself against his mother's clit and her massive belly.
"Even asleep you know how to please," she whispered, hauling herself up. She straddled him, pressing his cockhead to her entrance.
Daisy didn't hesitate. She'd been desperate for this day to come for nine long months. She sheathed his cock inside her cunt, feeling it push deep into her. She slammed her heavy hips down against her son, riding his fat cock. She whimpered, feeling the tip beat against her cervix with every bounce of her hips.
Cedar let out long, whining moans below her, his body starting to light up with pleasure. Daisy did not slow her pace, forcing her son to pound into her pussy, desperate to feel him cum, to feel how his cock twitched as he dumped a load inside her.
Her hands rubbed at her massive belly, a moan escaping her throat. "That's it, baby. Let Mommy play with you however she wants. Oh, what a good boy you are," she whimpered, hips slamming down to meet his.
There, pinned beneath the weight of his mother's pregnant stomach, Cedar opened his eyes.
"Mommy?" He whispered, feeling her tight cunt squeezing at him, watching her huge, full breasts bouncing in front of his face. Panic set in as Cedar tried to scramble away, only to find that he couldn't get out from under the weight of his pregnant mommy.
"Shit--" Daisy whispered, though in the moment she didn't give a fuck. Cedar was inside of her, he couldn't get out. She could feel her son's long, fat cock rubbing against her walls, the head a battering ram inside her. He couldn't escape. She will feel him cum.
"What're you doing? Stop-- This is so wrong!" Cedar begged, his arms desperately trying to drag himself away but to no avail.
"Then why does it feel so good?" She asked, a moan pushing past her lips. "Mm... You know you love it," she grunted, sitting heavy on his hips, resting her massive belly on Cedar's flat stomach.
Cedar was mortified. His mother was-- how could she do this? His eyes glazed over her pregnant belly, hoping she couldn't feel his cock twitch against his will.
"But mommy, you're-- you can't, you're pregnant," he whispered, trying to think of anything. If she wouldn't think of what this did to him, maybe she'd think about the demon growing within her.
"Mm, and it only makes me want you more," she said, her hands reaching up to pin his wrists. Daisy's hips worked back and forth, a nice rest for her exhausted thighs, not having to bounce her while she's so big.
Tears fell down Cedar's face as his mother rode him, his eyes squeezing shut to try and picture anything but the way her belly had filled out.
"Feel that, baby?" Daisy asked, picking up on of Cedar's hands and pressing it to her stomach. "Our baby is moving."
Cedar's eyes opened wide, staring at the big pregnant belly resting on him.
"You--"
"I've been drugging you," Daisy whispered. "And when you fall asleep, Mommy comes into your room and touches your cock until you cum. But I haven't gotten to ride you until tonight," she cooed, feeling his cock throb inside her. "Mm... Your body loves this, baby. Just give in," she whispered, her large hips continuing to bounce on her son's cock.
Cedar denied it for as long as he could. He didn't want to like it, to be just as disgusting and depraved as she was, but... With his hands on that swollen belly, his cock buried deep in mommy's cunt...
He humped up against her.
Cedar's hips grinded against mommy's, chasing his orgasm like a sick pervert. She'd worked him up so much he was desperate to orgasm, even if it meant letting his mommy get away with forcing herself on him.
Without warning, Daisy slammed herself down on her son's cock, orgasm rippling through her body, trying to milk his seed from him.
And boy, Cedar was not far behind.
He thrust up into her pussy, feeling his balls tense up, squeezing out rope after rope of thick, hot cum, directly against her cervix.
Cedar felt disgusting, but damn was it good. He stared up at mommy, completely at her mercy, and watched as she rode him through his orgasm.
He didn't get much more sleep that night, forced to lay below his pregnant mommy, giving her as many orgasms as he could possibly provide. As repulsive as it was, as awful as it felt, Cedar found himself growing addicted to the feeling.
He continued living at home with her, each night wondering how much sleep he would get before his mommy came in to touch him. He did as she said, creampieing her pussy every chance he got. And when mommy gave birth, when she was finally able to have sex again, Cedar obediently filled her womb once more.
Ask: No. 19 during a dystopian tv game show where contestants have to do ridiculous physical challenges while fully dilated and ready to push. Last one to fully give birth wins fabulous prizes.
Thank you Anon, this is the most amazingly ridiculous prompt ever and was a joy to write. The story is completely satire, unrealistic, and purely for entertainment purposes. Special thanks to the talented @exponenshul for writing the third challenge, and to @gravid-transluna for being my incredible beta. You’re both amazing humans! 💜 (8k words)
Prompt: “I can’t stop it… nnghhh I’m pushingg!”
~•~
"Goooooood evening guys and girls. It's Saturday night, we're live, and welcome to another episode of..."
"Keep That Crown!" Cheers the studio audience.
The TV presenter, Danny, continues. "For those of you who are new to our little corner of television, this is a game show where we take five mothers-to-be and put them to the test in a number of household challenges. Sounds easy enough, right? Well, the catch is that each mum-to-be is in active labour...and fully dilated! Whoever can complete all five challenges without giving birth has a chance to win our grand prize, and the last one standing will win a whopping £100,000.00!"
"Oooooooh." The audience awes on cue.
"Now let's meet tonight's contestants." Danny says with a staged smile, his overly white teeth glinting under the spotlights. Walking across the studio floor the camera pans to five heavily pregnant women, each standing behind a podium displaying their name. "Contestant number one is Mandy. She's 41 weeks pregnant with her first baby, a girl. How are you doing tonight Mandy?" The presenter asks casually.
"Ooof- I'm good thanks Danny. Focused and ready for the challenges. It's my first baby so hoping that works in my favour... hooooo...." A contraction cuts off Mandy's fighting talk and she grips the podium and hangs her head, panting heavily.
"First time mums are usually the most successful at this game, so good luck, Mandy! Next up we have Anna." The TV presenter walks across to the next pregnant woman, who's holding her contracting belly and swaying her hips side to side. "Anna is also a first time mum-to-be, 39 weeks pregnant with a baby boy. Do you think you're going to win tonight, Anna?"
"Mnnnghh I'm gonna g-give it my best shot." Anna says timidly with a grimace and a forced smile.
"Contestant number 3 is Becky. Becky is 37 and a half weeks pregnant with her third baby. Some of you eagle eyed viewers may recognise Becky from her second pregnancy and birth. You were unsuccessful last time, managing only two rounds before the head popped out during the dishwasher challenge. Reckon you can make it to the final round this time, Becky?"
"I hope so... hooohooo.... But ohh, this labour came on quicker than expected.... Mnnnnngh, three hours from first contraction to full dilation. But I'm hoping this little one can stay in a bit longer." Becky's cheeks were flushed pink and the sweat glistened on her forehead. Her tight leggings showed just how wide her gait was and every couple of minutes her knees bounced.
"Well, good luck to you Becky." Danny said before turning directly towards the camera. "Looks like she's going to need it." He added with a laugh and a wink.
"Now, next up we have Claudia. Another first time mum, 40 weeks pregnant exactly." The brunette was in the midst of a contraction and merely waved at the camera before holding on to the podium and groaning under her breath.
"And finally we have Niamh. Niamh is 37 weeks pregnant and this is a first for Keep That Crown - she's pregnant with twins!" Danny announced to a cheer from the audience. "You caused quite the discussion with our producers Niamh, as you're pregnant with two lovely healthy babies, we had to decide what the rules would be. Now, even though you're carrying two, you will need to keep both babies from being born in order to qualify for the final round. Reckon you can do that?"
"Definitely, Danny!" Niamh answered confidently. "Twins run in my family, but so do long labours. I'm here to win!"
She planted her hands on her hips and grinned. Her bump was bigger and lower than any of the other contestants and yet she seemed the most relaxed and sure of herself.
"That's the spirit Niamh!" Danny said. "Okay, now that we've met the contestants, let's start the challenges!!" He walked over to a new part of the stage, which was set up like a mini grocery store. The contestants followed, albeit more slowly.
"The first challenge is our iconic grocery shop challenge." Danny explained to the five labouring mothers. "Each of you have been given a shopping list of 7 different items. Your task is to go through our pretend supermarket, collect all the items on your list, and make it back to your podiums. You can use either a basket or the trolly to carry your items, but all items must be back here before the time is up. And remember, no matter how much you want to push, you just have to..."
"Keep that crown!" Shouts the studio audience.
"On your marks, get set.... GO!"
Niamh and Becky were first off the mark and waddled quickly towards the pretend supermarket. They both grabbed a trolly and rushed up and down the aisles of food, searching feverishly for their items. Anna and Mandy were quick to follow, and they chose the handheld basket option. Claudia, however, hadn't left her original position.
"Claudia, you need to move if you're going to collect all your items before the time runs out..." Danny tried to encourage the mum-to-be, but she was groaning loudly and gripping the podium tight.
"Ohhhhhh god. It's so low.... The pressure...." She whimpered.
"Don't push, Claudia. You've got to keep that crown!"
She staggered forward on unsteady legs and eventually reached the supermarket trolly. Barely making it down one aisle, Claudia stopped and squatted, holding on to the cart with a white-knuckled grip.
"Looks like Claudia is already pushing...that was fast. She'd better hope the baby doesn't come out any further or she's not even going to make it through the first challenge!" Danny narrates the scene whilst the camera follows each woman around the store.
Anna and Mandy were throwing items into their baskets, rushing quickly between contractions. Niamh and Becky had already got the first few items in their trolley’s. Whilst Niamh was ploughing ahead, Becky was struck by a forceful contraction and was bracing herself against an aisle. The third-time mother had one hand between her legs and she was mooing slightly under her breath.
Claudia managed to get one item in her trolley but soon gave up completely, crumpling to the floor on all fours and actively pushing her baby out. The bulge in her leggings could be seen appearing and then slipping back again.
"And Niamh is the first one back! Impressive with her twin-filled bump. She's closely followed by Anna and Mandy." Danny joined the returning mothers who were bent over and panting back at their stands. "Becky is still working her way around the store, but seems to be struggling. And- uh oh, Claudia!"
The camera cuts to Claudia on all fours by the frozen foods, the distinctive outline of a fully birthed head now protruding her clothing.
"Aaaand we have our first birth, ladies and gentlemen. Unfortunately, Claudia was not able to get through the first challenge and is now delivering her baby in aisle 3!" Danny enthusiastically announced.
The cameras kept their focus on Claudia as she pushed and pushed, but cut back to the TV host when the medical team went over to undress the birthing mother and help deliver the baby.
The sound of a baby crying filled the studio, and the show went to commercial break.
~•~
"Welcome back to Part 2 of Keep That Crown! We have four ladies left in the competition with just as many challenges still to go." Danny said while giving an award-winning smile to the camera.
"Next up is our infamous dishwasher challenge. Looking at you, Becky!" The presenter jokes and the camera cuts to the labouring mother in question. Becky is sweating and holding her extremely low baby bump and rolls her eyes.
Danny continues explaining to the audience at home. "In this challenge, our mums-to-be are tasked with unloading a dishwasher. Now, I've never been pregnant myself so at first, I didn't fully understand why this task would be a challenge. However, since working on this show, I've come to realise just how difficult it is for a heavily pregnant woman to load and unload a dishwasher. It may sound easy, folks, but this challenge has got the better of quite a few mums over the years. Not to mention our current contestant, Becky."
Danny, followed by the camera, travels across the studio to talk to the mums. "Now last time Becky, when you were birthing your second child, this was the challenge that got you. Do you think you'll fare any better tonight?" The presenter asked.
"I don't know Danny... mnghhhh... this baby is pretty desperate to- ugh!- come out." Becky's hands were holding her bump as she swayed side to side, knees dipping whenever she grunted.
"It certainly sounds that way!" Danny's eyebrows raised at the deep groans coming from this third-time-mum. "Now, if you could all make your way over to your allocated dishwashers."
Danny followed the women to the dishwasher setup and began to instruct. "Each of you has an identical dishwasher filled with crockery, cutlery and glassware. Your task is to get all the items out of the machine and stacked on top. You can start on the sound of the buzzer. Three... two... one..."
A klaxon is heard blaring across the studio and the music starts.
Each of the four contestants seemed to approach the challenge in a different way, and Danny began commentating on the challenge as it unfolded.
"First-time mums Mandy and Anna, each carrying one baby and having the smallest bumps of the group, have gone for the regular, forward bend. Mandy is attempting the bottom tray first, starting with the plates and crockery in the most cumbersome of the locations, whereas Anna has decided to tackle the glassware on the top tray, perhaps waiting to build herself up for the more difficult lower level.
"And Becky, our darling returning mum-to-be, has clearly made a strategy after last time. She's taken a new approach of kneeling on the ground beside the dishwasher, picking up plates and putting them on top of the machine. There'll be less physical movement with this choice, but whether her strategy pays off - time will tell."
"And lastly we have our mum of twins Niamh. With the biggest belly, carrying two very healthy babies, doesn't have the option of the forward bend and is clearly not sure about getting down onto her knees. What is she going to do ladies and gentlemen?.... Oh, wow. That's a risky move from Niamh!"
The expectant mum of twins was rather nimbly dropping into a deep squat, her obscenely large belly hanging low between her jackknifed thighs and brushed the ground. Collecting a few plates and holding them against her bump in one arm, she pulls herself back to standing to place them above the machine. Seconds later, she's squatting again, collecting the side plates and bowls.
"Wow. Our Irish beauty Niamh is flying ahead in this challenge, but her method is risky and we have never ever seen it used successfully before." Danny's tone showed he was impressed.
Becky had managed to unload half of the bottom tray before she started to obviously struggle. Her knees slide wider on the studio floor, another contraction tightening up her bump and contorting it into a hard round ball. Bracing the tops of her thighs her hips sunk low to the ground and she grunted long and deep.
"Oh no!" Danny cried out. "Looks like Becky is pushing again. Her third baby is eager to join us."
The camera zooms in on the labouring woman; her face red and splotchy with the effort of birth. She was panting and groaning heavily, and from the low angle of the camera, the bulge in her leggings was undeniable. Shouts began to arise from the studio audience. "Don't push!" "Keep that crown!"
"Come on Becky, this challenge bested you last time- don't let it happen again! Keep that crown, mumma!" Danny encouraged.
The third time mum couldn't stop pushing, so in desperation she placed a hand between her thighs to stop the baby coming out any further. Becky grunted forcefully again into her palm and when the contraction was over and her hand removed, the head still appeared to be at a full crown inside her clothing, but was no longer moving. Becky exhaled, shook her head, and continued to remove the remaining items in her dishwasher.
"Anna is flying ahead in this challenge, closely followed by Niamh - those twins seem happy to stay in her belly." Danny observed. "...But it looks like Mandy is starting to struggle."
The soon to be mum was bent over the dishwasher, bracing her thighs and circling her hips, all thoughts of the challenge momentarily forgotten. Her heavy belly squished up tight, contracting forcefully and trying to evict its occupant. She whimpered and wailed as her baby sunk lower and lower, stretching her wide, desperate to be born.
"Uh oh, looks like she's struggling to keep that baby in. The question is.... Will she push?" Danny teased joyfully, adding drama to the already chaotic scenes.
Mandy could be seen muttering to herself under her breath.... Don't push don't push don't push... And yet her efforts were in vain, as the labouring mother soon dropped into a deep squat and bore down, groaning loudly.
"Mandy- hooooo... no! Don't p-push!!" Anna tried to encourage her fellow contestant, breathing heavily as she placed her final item on top of the dishwasher completing the challenge.
"Nnngghhhhh... I can't stop it! I'm pushing!!"
Mandy cried, letting out a primal grunt. The bulge between her open legs got bigger and bigger as she pushed, the baby slipping further between her folds and into her tight leggings.
"Aaaaand Anna is the first to complete the challenge!" Danny announces loudly to the studio. "But it looks like we have yet another mother falling at the dishwasher hurdle. Mandy, that baby is almost out.... If the head comes fully out, you are out of the competition."
"Oh god! No..... it's coming out!!!!" Mandy groaned, her body working of its own accord, bearing down and pushing the giant head through her opening. The unmistakable cry of relief that followed told everyone in the studio that the baby's head had been born.
"That leaves three remaining contestants; Anna has finished the task, closely followed by Niamh. Darn, I was sure all that squatting was going to result in a birth- but well done to Niamh! Who do we have left? Oh yes, Becky." Danny smiled and walked beside the labouring mother as she tried to complete the task. "How are we doing Becky?"
"Mnnghhh!" Becky apparently could not speak, putting all her focus and energy on the two tasks - unloading the dishwasher and not birthing her baby. Her knees were wide as she knelt on the floor, the baby's head way beyond a full crown but not quite fully born. She huffed as she picked up the last remaining item, her body trembling as she reached up to place the small plate on the top of the machine, the crockery clinking as she shook whilst stretching up, desperately trying to get that final item in place and complete the challenge that had previously beaten her.
"YES!!!" She cried when the plate slipped onto the pile of clean dishes, and panted heavily with relief. Whoops and cheers rang out from the audience.
"You did it!!!! Well done Becky." Danny exclaimed. "Now, let's go to commercial break, giving our mothers a well-earned rest-" ...the sound of Mandy grunting and pushing in the background briefly interrupted the TV host...
"-and also to let Mandy birth her baby girl. Be back in five, folks!"
~•~
Shortly thereafter, Danny and the contestants were lined up for the next challenge, each woman now standing in front of a wardrobe.
"Welcome back to Keep That Crown, where we've had an exciting first two rounds!" Danny announced. "Let's take a moment to check up on our contestants before we move on, shall we?"
He walked over to Anna, who was holding out strong, but definitely getting tired. She was sweating profusely and cradling her low, heavy belly.
"So, what are your thoughts on the challenges so far, Anna?" Danny asked.
"Umm...hmm." Anna muttered, obviously not focused on answering questions. "It's tough. But...hngggh...I think I can h-hold on."
"Let's hope!" Danny said, striding over to the next contestant. "And how are you feeling, Niamh?"
"Feeling good!" Niamh proclaimed, patting her belly. She was breathing heavier and a few beads of sweat could be detected on her forehead, but otherwise she was looking fine. "Ready for another round."
Danny nodded. "Well, that certainly was an impressive feat you pulled off in the last challenge!" He chuckled, then continued on to the last remaining contestant. "And, Becky..."
Becky was standing shamelessly in a somewhat bow-legged position, a massive bulge still in her leggings, as big as before and dripping fluid through her clothes. Surely she was only one small push away from birthing the head. Her whole body was practically shaking from the effort of keeping her baby in.
"...I'm just surprised that baby hasn't budged at all," Danny said frankly.
Becky grunted and her jaw clenched. "Just...get on with the- huuuhh- challenge," She grumbled, stowing one hand between her trembling thighs.
Danny returned to his side of the stage. "All right, time for round three! This one is the Dress-Up challenge. Each contestant has been provided with a wardrobe. Inside is a dress which you must change into, as if you were getting ready for your very own baby shower! Once that's complete, you'll have to return the dress and change back into your regular clothes."
The contestants gave each other exasperated looks. Getting changed is hard work for a pregnant woman even on a normal day... doing it while deep in labour was going to be tough.
"On your marks...get set...go!!" Danny hollered.
The women turned toward their wardrobes and opened them up. They each had an identical dress, with loose, thin cloth that was sure to fit their maternal bodies. Getting it on would be the hard part.
Becky grabbed the dress right away, but she looked over and saw the women next to her starting to take off their tops and bottoms. She looked over at Danny. "Uhh...do we need to strip down to our underwear for this challenge...?"
"Yes, that's usually part of getting changed..." Danny said with a chuckle. The audience laughed along with him.
Becky gulped. "Nngh...o-okay..."
Niamh had already removed her top and was shimmying her leggings down over her hips, leaving her in only a bra and panties.
Anna followed suit, but had to stop before getting her shirt over her head due to a contraction. She doubled over and groaned, gripping her belly. "Oohhh...hoo, God, I dunno if I can do this..."
Meanwhile, Becky was still looking between herself and the dress, only slowly starting to lift her shirt up as her baby's crowning head continued to burden her. It seemed the stress was getting to her.
Niamh sat her clothes off to the side and grabbed the dress. She paused for a contraction, but it barely seemed to phase her. She bent over a bit and exhaled deeply before quickly righting herself.
Anna was now struggling with getting off her leggings. She'd chosen to wear extra tight leggings, hoping they would help hold in the baby in an emergency. But now, after working up a sweat, the fabric clung to her. She was able to roll them down past her hips, but another contraction struck. She squatted just a tad, on shaky legs. "Mmmggghh come on!"
Beside her, Niamh had pulled the dress up over her head, knowing that was the only way it was fitting around her big twin bump.
Becky had only just removed her shirt. She was standing there in her bra and tented-out leggings, clutching her firm belly and muttering to herself.
"Becky?" Danny called out, not sure what was going on. "You should strip down a little quicker if you want to carry on with the challenge..."
Becky gulped again, then nodded. "O-okay..."
Anna had gotten her leggings to her ankles, but as she tried to kick them off, her belly cramped again and she fell forward onto her knees. She grimaced and cried out. "Nooooo aghhh I can feel it coming! I-I don't wanna puuush!"
"Folks, Anna says she doesn't want to push...but will her body agree?!" Danny wondered aloud. The audience focused their attention on the poor labouring woman.
Anna clenched her fists, grunting through the contraction. Now in just her panties, it was all the more clear that she was starting to bulge from the baby's head...
Suddenly, a gasp from the audience. "Wait...what's that? What's she wearing?!"
People turned their heads toward the cause of her outcry. The TV cameras pointed toward Becky, and Danny's jaw dropped when he saw what was happening.
Becky had gotten her leggings down to her knees but the act had revealed her secret weapon. Beneath her leggings and over her underwear, she was wearing a thick leather belt with material that went over her crotch.
Murmurs began to rise in the audience.
"Is that... a chastity belt?"
"For real? Is that allowed?"
Becky blushed, both from embarrassment and exertion.
Danny was flabbergasted. "Well, I've never seen this, folks...Becky was wearing a leather chastity belt the whole time!"
More audience comments.
"Wow, how did she hide that?"
"No wonder she was able to hold that baby in!"
"Now, as we know, cheating or giving yourself any unfair advantage is strictly against the rules..." Danny said solemnly. "So, I'm afraid that means I'm going to have to disqualify you from the competition, Becky."
Cameras zoomed in as tears welled in Becky's eyes. "I'm...sorry," she whimpered. "I just...wanted to win so badly this time...but- hnnnngggaaah!"
She was cut off as another contraction hit her. She fell to her knees, and it was clear she was pushing as hard as she could. But no matter how hard she pushed, the baby's head couldn't fully emerge with the leather in the way. She groaned heavily. "Gghh...but...I give up! I'm done! Someone- nngngghhh- just get this belt off of me! The baby needs to come OUT!"
The medics rushed over while the studio audience reeled from the chaos. The cameras turned back to Danny, who was still somewhat in shock. "Well, that was certainly something, folks! We have only two contestants remaining, now. Let's see how they're doing."
Neither Niamh nor Anna let themselves be too distracted by what transpired- they had more important things to focus on. Niamh had fully put on her dress and was taking a minute to pose in it for the cameras. Anna had resisted the urge to push for the time being, and was now grabbing her own dress. She adorned it in a very stiff manner, trying not to move around too much and risk wanting to bear down again.
Niamh removed her dress with ease, but as she was reaching for her original clothes again, a contraction gripped her. This time, she leaned against her wardrobe and groaned, rubbing her belly. She turned her head down and winced, and it looked like she may have finally been starting to falter.
"What are you feeling, Niamh?" Danny asked, trying to sound engaged again after the previous incident. "Hang on, you're almost there!"
"Mmghh...not pushing yet, Danny!" Niamh said, returning to her confident demeanour. She grabbed her clothes and stood back up fully.
Anna had gotten her dress on, but was hunched over again, cradling her swell. "Hooo...gghh...it wants to come out...s-so bad..." She glanced over at Danny. "Can I just...nngggh...keep the dress on?"
"The challenge isn't complete until you change back into your regular clothes!" Danny insisted. Anna groaned and began trying to strip the dress off.
Niamh was once more working at a surprisingly fast pace. With her dress cast aside, she was able to quickly get her clothes back on. It took a bit of time to wrestle her shirt back over her big bump, but once it was on, she raised her arms in victory. The audience cheered.
"It looks like Niamh has completed the challenge! That just leaves Anna- will she make it?" Danny announced.
Anna now had her shirt back on and was gripping her leggings in one hand, but she was riding through another contraction. She leaned on her arms against the wardrobe, her hips angled back.
"Ooohh...ooh, no, baby...nnggghh!" The labouring woman moaned. She tensed up, and her panties bulged out just slightly. The baby was starting to crown. "Guh...I just...gotta get these leggings back on..."
After a few rounds together and only two contestants left, the audience was getting invested. They began to chant, "Go! Go! Keep that crown!"
Mustering her strength, Anna bent down and started to put on her leggings. She was sweating, and it took a great deal of effort to pull the fabric up around her shaky legs. She grunted and panted, trying to keep her legs together long enough to get the leggings over her thighs and hips, even though she desperately wanted to spread them and push.
After a couple minutes of struggle, Anna was finally able to hike her leggings up tight around her waist. She felt between her legs and gave a small sigh of relief, knowing that there was more of a barrier over the emerging head now.
Danny clapped along with the audience. "Well done, Anna! That's round three done. Let's take a quick break and set up for the fourth challenge!"
~•~
“Welcome back to Keep That Crown.” Danny said straight to camera with his best showbiz smile. “If you are just joining us you have missed one hell of an episode so far; three babies born, a set of twins still on the way and our first case of cheating by chastity belt. You certainly won’t get all that on any other show!”
The camera zooms out and reveals Danny is standing between two heavily pregnant women. “We have two mums-to-be left in the competition - the lovely Anna on my left, expecting a little boy, and the incredible Niamh on my right, who is carrying twins. Now girls, we’re over half-way through the competition now and it’s just the two of you left. How are you feeling Anna?”
Standing behind her podium Anna pants heavily, her face flushed, gripping her belly and forcing a smile. “It’s— it’s definitely getting tougher. Hooooo… it’s so hard not to p-push….” Her feeble voice whimpers with another contraction and Danny takes the cue and turns his attention to Niamh.
“And Niamh, you have been storming through these challenges, and you are carrying two babies in there.” He nods and pats Niamh’s obscenely large belly drooping from her hips. “Have you been struggling to resist the urges to push as well?”
“Well having two of them in there certainly adds a level of difficulty but… mnnnhhh… it’s been okay so far. Just need to breathe through those u-urges…” Niamh’s confident words ring out across the studio but her knees bend subtly, her hands cupping the underside of her gravid swell as one of the baby’s head sinks and presses even lower.
“There are two more challenges to go. Let’s hope you both can make it through round four. For this challenge each of you will be given a baby doll, your task will be to change the baby’s nappy, dress the baby, and get them into the pram. Don’t worry Niamh, unlike real life you don’t have to do this twice. You each get one baby.”
The Irish mum laughed through gritted teeth, trying to keep her cool through the increasing contractions.
“If you two lovely ladies follow me.” Danny instructed, walking the labouring mothers to a new corner of the television studio. Both mothers were walking more and more bow-legged by the minute, but followed silently behind the host.
“As you can see there are three parts to this challenge; nappy change, dressing baby, and the pram. And I know what you’re thinking, you’re thinking “Oh but Danny, you’ve forgotten to set up the prams” but we haven’t.” The TV host smirked to the camera and the audience at home. “Prams these days are so nifty, collapsing into the smallest space to fit easily into the boot of your cars. You will have to work out how to open the pram in order to safely strap your baby doll into the seat.”
Niamh nodded in understanding, her eyes already analysing the pram in question and its potential latches. Anna meanwhile looked hesitant, nervous, holding her belly and swaying her hips in rapid movements to try and alleviate the relentless pressure between them.
“Right, Anna you stand here. And Niamh you stand here.” Danny ushered the labouring women to their respective stations for the challenge. “Any questions?”
“C-can we get any h-help with the pram? Like a partner?” Anna stuttered, trying to steady her breath and her spasming womb.
“I’m afraid no help is allowed. You have to do all parts of this challenge by yourself. And you can’t leave the baby on the changing mat when you set up the pram, they could roll off, so you must carry them and put them in the pram.”
Anna paled briefly, looking like she might faint or throw up.
“On your marks… get set… go!!” Danny cheered and the tense but upbeat music of the challenge sounded around the studio.
It was neck-and-neck through the first part of the challenge, with both Niamh and Anna confidentially removing the nappy from the toy baby and wrapping a new one over the bottom half of the doll. They weren’t competing for the quickest time, they just had to complete the challenge from start to finish, but even without the time pressure the urgency was clear from the expressions of both women. They wanted this challenge done so they could be one step closer to birthing their babies.
Unsurprisingly, Niamh finished the nappy change first. The Irish mother was already an audience favourite and steaming ahead in this game. However, before she could pick up the baby clothes to dress the doll her eyes suddenly widened and she curled forward over her large twin-filled belly, gripping the edge of the wooden change table in a death grip.
“Mmmghhh— oh god!!!!” Niamh groaned loudly as her belly visibly contracted and squashed her babies lower towards their exit. “Fuck…. I can f-feel a head….hoohoohoo…”
“Oh no, looks like our fan-favourite is starting to struggle.” Danny said excitedly.
Groaning deeply. Niamh squeezed her grip on the changing table and screwed her eyes shut. “Nngh—! The pressure—” the Irish mother grunted and her knees dipped and widened.
Seeing her competition struggling, Anna bit her lip through the contraction and quickly pulled the clothing onto her doll and finished the first and second part of the challenge in rapid time. As she stepped towards the pram, the toy baby in arms, it was clear that Anna was racing against more than just her competitor. Her hand lowered, trembling with the effort of denying her instincts, and felt the partially crowned head. “Come on baby…. Just a little bit longer.” Her quiet words to her child were picked up on the microphone and an encouraging cheer erupted from the audience.
With one arm holding the fake baby, Anna had to work out how to open the pram single-handed. Huffing her way through contractions, red-faced and sweating, Anna pulled and twisted the handle but the pram remained in its collapsed state.
Niamh meanwhile had survived the aggressive contraction but in her desperation had clamped a hand between her thighs to try and keep herself from pushing. She was now attempting to dress the baby one-handed which wasn’t very successful.
“Niamh, you’re going to have to work with both hands if you want to keep your winning streak.” Danny said to the contestant over the audience's cheers.
“But— but it feels like the baby is slipping o-out….” Niamh was frazzled, overcome with the sensations of birth and her cool confidence was fast unravelling.
“Uh oh— Niamh says the baby is slipping out. What does she need to do ladies and gentlemen?” Danny asked the excitable studio audience who responded with a chorus of “KEEP THAT CROWN!”
“Ooohhhhhh…. Danny!!! The pram… it just w-won’t o-open!!!!” Anna shouted and the camera pans around to find her on her knees beside the collapsed contraption. The doll was wedged in an elbow so she could use both hands and she was frustratingly pulling and squeezing and twisting every inch of the pram trying desperately to unlock and open it.
“They do open Anna. They just have a little… knack to them.” Danny winked at the camera before it panned out to show both women struggling to open their prams while simultaneously crowning with their unborn babies.
“Jesus, who the fuck designed this thing?!” Niamh cursed as she pulled the handle expecting it to expand but grunted with frustration when it didn’t. The Irish mum-to-be had stuffed the toy doll down her top after dressing it, wedging it under her shirt between her breasts and belly in order to use both hands on the final part of this challenge.
“Ohhhhh god… this baby wants o-ouuttt….” Anna rocked on hands and knees, momentarily abandoning her pram and putting all her efforts into not giving birth.
Niamh wasn’t looking much better, grunting and occasionally placing her hands between her thighs when her body automatically pushed.
“This is going to be a close one ladies and gentlemen. Looks like both Anna and Niamh are pushing and it’s going to be a battle of willpower to see who makes it through this challenge.”
“Mmngghhh….. no— don’t come out—!” Anna grunted, pulling the waistband of her leggings up and making the fabric taut and unforgiving at the crotch, creating a barrier against the emerging head.
“Oh! Oh! I’ve got it!!” Niamh cried, finding the switch that when pressed allowed the pram to fully expand. “Anna… it’s on the left, by the l-logo…” Niamh panted as she pulled the fake baby out from under her top and almost threw it into the seat, quickly buckling the baby into the straps and clamping her hands between her thighs once more before the next contraction could strike.
Anna scrambled on her knees, searching for the latch Niamh had mentioned. The pressure between her hips was building, the baby certainly at a full crown in her underwear. “Ohhhh god…. I need to push….” Rocking on her knees Anna flailed her hands over the pram and with a cry of relief found the button and the pram popped open. Placing her fake baby in the seat and buckling it in, tears fell from Anna’s eyes as she trembled against the raging waves of her labour.
“Wow! Excellent work ladies; you have both completed the fourth challenge.” Danny announced, genuinely impressed that both contestants were still in the game. “Let’s take a quick break and we will be back with the fifth and final challenge. Who will keep that crown, and who will fall at the last hurdle? See you in five!”
~•~
“Welcome back to the final part of Keep That Crown, the only game show that’ll have you pushing babies instead of buttons. As you may have guessed, we are getting in the Christmas spirit for the fifth and final challenge.” Danny wiggles his head slightly and the camera pans out to reveal a red and white Santa hat on top of his perfectly styled hair. “We decided to change things up as the holiday season approaches and we have a festive final challenge for you this week. Don’t worry folks, it is a relatively simple task, but… doing it whilst deep in the throes of labour?…” The wide and wicked grin from the TV presenter shines bright across the studio right into the television screens to all the people at home. “This may be our toughest challenge to date.”
As Danny continued talking to the camera the distinctive sounds of groaning and heavy breathing in the background grew louder. Danny walks across the studio, followed by the camera, and stands beside the two remaining contestants who were both now dressed up as Mrs Santa Claus. In hourglass silhouettes, the red velvet cinched at the waist but stretched tight across their pregnant bellies, the hem finished with luscious white fur. The dresses were short, barely covering their hips, allowing a clear view of the tight leggings underneath. Niamh’s hands were still clamped between her thighs as she sweated profusely, panting erratically. While Anna was groaning, her hands splayed wide across the velvet surface of her belly as if she could just hold the baby inside.
“Ladies, I see you’re both dressed for the season.” Danny said cheerfully but his enthusiasm was not reciprocated. Anna’s face was blotchy and flushed as she held back her urges, sweat rolling down the side of her cheeks. Whereas Niamh looked fiery and frustrated, her knees dipping every few seconds, hands clamped firm at her crotch as she gritted “Get-on-with-it-!”
Danny put his hands up in mock-surrender “Okay, okay. Let’s get on with the final task…. The Christmas Tree challenge!” In a corner of the studio there were two large Christmas trees, over 10ft in height, and both were completely bare. Beside each tree was a box filled with all manner of decorations from lights and tinsel, to beads and baubles. “Niamh, Anna, your challenge is simple; to decorate the Christmas tree. Your Christmas trees must be completely decorated, from the lowest branches all the way to the highest. Your tree must have at least 3 different types of decorations and it must have the star on the very top.”
Two assistants on the show briefly came into shot, each placing a step ladder beside the trees and promptly running off stage. The ladders were clearly for the women to use in order to get to the very top of the Christmas tree. Anna visibly gulped with fear, while Niamh was staring at the floor very obviously pushing against her hand.
“I would usually speak with each of you before the challenge, but erm, I’m guessing neither of you are up for chit chat..?” Danny asked with a laugh and got a grunting response from the Irish mother-to-be. “Okay then. Let’s dive into the challenge. On your marks, get set, GO!”
Immediately Niamh waddled bow-legged and determined towards her tree, carefully removing one hand from between her legs and grabbing the set of Christmas lights from her box. Staggering side to side around the large tree, the labouring woman tossed sections of the lights with reckless abandon onto the different branches of the pine tree. Round and around she went adding the white lights up the tree but when she reached shoulder height she looked nervously up at the top of the tree, knowing what had to be done next. Niamh stood at the bottom of the step-ladder, gripping it tight with one fist while the other remained firm between her legs. She paused, waiting for the miniscule gap between contractions, before taking a hesitant step up the ladder.
Meanwhile Anna seemed to be struggling to put one foot in front of the other, her head was dipped low as she held her large bump and breathed heavily. She tried to move but a squeaking whimper came out instead.
“Come on Anna, you’re so close, don’t give up now.” Danny tried to encourage.
“Oooohhh… I can’t— move—” Anna said with a fearful whine.
Danny watched her struggle for a few seconds before taking pity on the girl and wrapped a supportive arm around her waist. “Come on, love. Let’s get you to your tree.” Angry voices came through the presenter’s earpiece as he then yelled to someone off screen “I’m just helping her get to the challenge, that’s all!”
When they reached her designated challenge area, Anna gripped onto the step ladder, her wide legs trembling with the effort of not giving birth. “I can’t help you anymore sweetheart, but you’re so close. You can do this.” Danny encouraged quietly. Anna nodded, breathing deeply, preparing herself for the final hurdle. Then she abruptly let go of the ladder and dived into the decorations box grabbing as much as she could carry and unceremoniously whacking the decorations along the bottom branches of the tree.
The Irish mother-to-be was now halfway up the step ladder trying to throw the Christmas lights around the top few branches of the tree. With a final effort she rose up onto her tiptoes and leant forward, lassoing the lights over the very top. The movement came with a price as a split second later the microphone caught her sharp gasp and the camera showed a clear bulge protruding between her thighs, her hand quickly moved to clamp hard against her crotch.
“Niamh….” Danny’s words were jokingly stern as he stood beneath her ladder. “Was that a head poking through?”
“No! Nnnghh— of course not. Still-ohhhh-very much c-crowning Danny!” She gritted loudly with a slight hiss through her teeth.
“Good girl, remember to Keep That Crown!” Danny said, getting the audience to join in, everyone soon chanting the show’s iconic catchphrase.
Over by the other tree, Anna had thrown all manner of decorations onto the bottom half of the pine tree. There was no style or strategy, the labouring woman frantically grabbing and hooking any decoration she could find onto the spindly branches. Sweat was dripping down her face and she took a breather at the decoration table, wiping her brow with the thick soft velvet of the sleeve of her festive costume. Anna lowered a hand between her legs, her eyes pinching hesitantly as she felt the crown of her baby’s head just inside her clothing.
“Stay there little guy.” She whispered, exhausted but determined.
“Anna, how are you getting on, sweetheart?” Danny asked, out of shot of the camera but carefully watching and narrating the scene to the audience at home.
“I’m— ohhhhhh— hanging in there. And…I’ve got an idea…” Anna said aloud, then surprisingly picked up the whole plastic box of decorations and carried it over and up the step ladder.
Gasps could be heard from the studio audience, impressed at her stamina and strength. Niamh looked up, worried at the reaction from the audience, and tried to look over at her competitor but couldn’t see past the thick branches of the tree.
Higher and higher Anna climbed, the box wedged into the curve of her waist beneath her outstretched arm. Then, upon reaching the top of the ladder, she loudly dumped the decorations on the top step. The labouring woman proceeded to stand half-way up the ladder, picking up each item from the box and hanging it onto a branch. Her mis-mash of decorations meant she was already meeting the criteria of the task - to have at least three different types of decorations. Whereas her competitor Niamh, having chosen to add lights, meant she was having to go around the whole tree again to add the decorations.
The tension in the studio could be cut with a knife, both women evenly matched in their birthing progress, but Anna was taking a surprisingly clear lead in completing the challenge.
“It's neck-a-neck on this final challenge folks, but who will come out victorious? Can both Anna and Niamh hold off from giving birth just that little bit longer…. Or will they fall at the final hurdle?” Danny riled up the studio audience who had started chanting support for their favourite contestant.
Anna was getting higher up the step ladder, getting closer and closer to finishing the challenge. But Niamh was faltering. Badly. She was still on the ground, trying painfully slowly to add decorations to the bottom half of the tree. To the camera she was partially hidden behind the thick branches of the Christmas tree, the odd flash of red and white from her costume coming in and out of view. Her deep, rumbling groans and grunts could be heard over the speakers, because even though she was hidden, the microphone she wore captured everything…
“nnnghhh—!! No! Don’t— gggrhhh—” the rough husky voice of the Irish mother-to-be echoed around the studio.
The flash of red velvet behind the tree appeared to be sinking lower and lower, heading towards the ground. Danny, wide eyed, rushed over and beckoned the cameras to follow.
“Oh…. Niamh….” Danny said as the camera showed everyone in the audience and at home the impending mother of twins.
Down on her knees, Niamh braced her thighs with both hands, her whole body trembling. Her ass was raised up off her heels and the round shape of a baby’s head was forming under her leggings as she pushed.
“Nnnnghhh—!!! It’s coming out—!!!!!” Niamh wailed, and then collapsed forwards onto her hands with a cry of relief when the head, very evidently, was born.
“That’s it folks, our fan favourite is now out of the competition.” Danny said brightly to the camera, before adding “Niamh, you should be very proud. You did amazing. You’ve set the bar extremely high for any other twin pregnancies that’s for sure.”
Niamh remained curled over on all fours, panting as she caught her breath, the medics rushing onto the studio floor to help her deliver her twins. The camera cuts back to Danny, who strolls between the Christmas trees talking to the audience.
“So, that leaves us with one mother-to-be left in the competition. Anna,” he called up the ladder to the last woman standing “if you can finish this challenge, you’ve done it.”
Anna was all the way up the ladder at this point, riffling through the box of decorations and throwing them haphazardly on the top few branches of the tree. The audience cheered and yelled, supporting and encouraging the last remaining contestant as she struggled through the final hurdle. She sagged against the ladder when the decorations were done, heaving deep breaths and gripping the ladder for dear life. When she started to descend the step ladder, Danny interrupted urgently.
“No! Anna, you still need to add the star at the top!!”
Anna looked like she was about to cry, or scream at him. Her whole body was trembling with the effort of not giving birth, the constant low rumblings from her chest as she fought the back to back contractions. With quaking hands she rummaged through the box, trying to find the star as quickly as she could. Every now and then she’d grunt involuntarily, resulting in tense gasps from the audience, the camera zooming in on her closely.
“Come on Anna, find that star! You can do it!” Danny yelled up the ladder. She held it proudly in the air when her hands found the glittery item and proceeded to step to the very top of the ladder. As she reached the top she fiercely threw the box of decorations to the floor to stand right on the highest step.
The whole studio was silent, breaths collectively held as they watched the labouring woman atop the ladder, stretching, reaching up and up and up, straining to get the star on the very top of the tree.
A wild cheer erupted as the decoration was put into its rightful place and Danny announced loudly; “YOU DID IT! Anna, you did it!! You’ve won £100,000!”
Anna didn’t even make it back to the ground before she was actively pushing and the head came out before her feet even touched the floor.
A birthday is a special day. Her friend’s twenty-first should have been Mari’s only focus. However, Mari had been distracted the entire day as they spent time at the resort’s expansive pool and spa. It hadn’t been so bad at first. Her friend’s mom, Noemi, was nearly a week overdue with her second child, and though she had started the day in modest clothes—a maternity sundress draping her huge, full swell, navel protruding starkly, pressing downward from her middle—, the afternoon sun had continued to shine down on them, forcing Noemi to shed her dress, pulling it up her belly and over her head.
Mari’s face had flushed and she’d turned away, ashamed and furious at herself for her own thoughts, but she’d already seen the nakedness of Noemi’s belly, taut at the seams and painfully overdue, hanging low over her hips and melting into her otherwise small, slim frame. Sweat had shimmered, bright, on the stretched, striped skin. A dark linea nigra ran down her middle to her navel. Her belly button was hard and round like a stone. Underneath, she only wore a white two-piece bikini, and her breasts, once small and subtle, hung swollen in her top, nipples and areolae visible.
Mari’s heart wouldn’t stop fluttering every time Noemi lifted her slender hands to cup her swell, or when she rose from the sunbathing to reapply sunscreen and Mari saw her from the back; though she still tried to step with her usual grace and poise, her gait was wide, baby obviously dropped between her narrow hips, reducing her to a waddle.
It was a very uncomfortable day to be a lesbian with a fetish that especially appealed on an older woman.
This wasn’t the worst of it, though.
Mari first noticed it when Noemi reached across the table for her drink.
“Excuse me,” she said.
“Of course!” Mari squeaked.
Then Noemi’s face changed. Her reaching hand flew to her belly, and Mari followed it to see visible tensing, muscles clenched on either side, misshapen around her huge baby.
“Oh!” she said. There was something in her face now. Surprise, but also a slight urgency.
“Ms. Noemi?” Mari asked. “Are—are you okay?”
“Mm,” Noemi said, and took her glass. “I’m fine. Thank you, Mari.”
This happened multiple times throughout the day, and every time she saw that mound tense then sag, muscles relaxing, Mari’s pussy pounded badly, pulsing.
She stayed in the shade, sipping nothing but cold water with ice while her friend and the others ordered drinks at the pool bar.
After about another hour of this, Mari couldn’t take it. She left and walked to the restrooms and found a stall. Inside it she immediately yanked her bikini bottom down her legs and pressed her fingers to her clit. Her pussy throbbed for release, dripping and clenching. She began to masturbate standing over the toilet, imagining closing her lips around one of Noemi’s stiff, milk-heavy nipples.
Fuck, she thought. Fuck, fuck. Her pussy began to pulsate under her slick fingers. Her thighs shook as she came.
“Shit,” Mari said aloud, then she wiped herself down and pulled her bikini bottom back up and exited the stall, washing the slick from her hands in the sink.
Suddenly the restroom door was flung open. Mari jumped guiltily, then her eyes widened in shock as Noemi raced past her, not even noticing her at the sink, bowed over her low belly, a hand clamped to her crotch. She ran into the handicap stall and slammed the door shut. It was quiet for a moment. Then—
“Ohhhhhh.”
A muted, breathless moan and a loud splashing sound.
Mari stood frozen. She heard a small gasping from the other side of the stall door, and approached hesitantly. She rapped a timid knuckle on the door and the gasps stopped.
“U-um, Ms. Noemi? Are you okay?”
There was silence. Then, “Yes, just some Braxton Hicks contractions. I’m sorry if I startled you, Mari.”
Noemi’s voice sounded strained, so uncharacteristic of her usually soft, modulated tone.
Mari hesitated. “Are you sure? Do you need any help?”
More silence. The stall door unlocked from the inside. Mari pushed it open and her heart thumped in her chest at the sight inside.
Noemi was standing over the toilet, thighs wide apart, knees slightly bent. Her bikini bottom and legs were soaked with fluids. Her belly, somehow, appeared to hang even lower, navel pointed almost to the floor now with weight and fullness. Her face was sweaty, cheeks flushed, short dark hair clinging damply to her forehead.
“Oh my god, Ms. Noemi,” Mari said. “Your water broke, didn’t it?”
Noemi’s face tightened and she pressed her lips together, nodding and closing her eyes. She clutched reflexively at the orb between her thighs as it flexed, hardening, muscles like iron. Her brow wrinkled and she grunted as though she couldn’t stand the pressure anymore.
“Mari,” she gasped. “I need you to step out, please. I’m—I think I need to—relieve myself.”
Mari shook her head. “I think it’s the baby! Are you feeling like pushing?”
“Ughh.” Noemi’s eyes were squeezed shut. “Yes. I need to push.”
“Oh my—“ Mari trailed off. “We’ve gotta call you an ambulance.”
Suddenly the contraction released Noemi. Her belly slackened. She collapsed onto the toilet seat, thighs spread wide to accommodate her massive stomach. She panted, chest heaving.
“No,” she said. “It will ruin the party.”
“But—“
“Please.” Noemi’s eyes softened, and Mari perceived her desperation clearly. “You’re one of my daughter’s more mature friends. I don’t want to embarrass her or cause a scene, and I need your help.”
Mari gulped. “What can I do?”
Noemi sighed. “Thank you. I just need to last until the party is over.”
The restroom door opened and someone walked in.
“Ms. Noemi? Are you in there?” The voice was a little slurred, tipsy from afternoon drinking.
Noemi composed herself and raised her voice. “I’m fine, thank you.”
“O-o-okay. Haven’t popped yet, have you?”
Noemi managed a weak laugh. “Holding it in.”
For now, Mari thought.
They waited until they heard the door close. Then Noemi said, “Could you—I need you to—” was she—blushing? “I can’t go back out covered in my waters.”
“O-oh,” Mari said, and she was suddenly aware of the distinct odor coming off of Noemi, the scent of her fluids, fecund and thick, the musk of a woman close to birthing. Noemi stood as Mari grabbed a wad of toilet paper and began to dab her formerly lean thighs, thickened over the course of her pregnancy.
“And–” She was really blushing now, Mari marveled. “I’d do it myself but–I can no longer reach around my stomach.”
Happy to. Mari drew her fingers around Noemi’s hips, noting the slight intake of breath as her thumbs brushed swollen underbelly. She hooked her bikini bottom and exposed her fleshy pregnancy pussy, damp and swampy, and the odor was stronger now. Mari breathed.
Then, “you have to close your legs.”
“Mm, trying.” Noemi struggled, the baby lodged in her pelvis making it almost impossible to pinch her knees shut. Her eyes widened. “Oh no…”
Her belly hitched and went hard. Her knees immediately buckled, thighs wide again.
“I need to push,” she said. She groaned as she began to bear down. The sides of her belly sucked in with the force of her pushing.
“No! Ms. Noemi, you have to hold it in, remember?” Mari said.
“Hnnnnfgh,” Noemi groaned. She tried to resist. “Hooh-hooh, god. I need to push.”
Mari, not knowing how to help, planted her palms on Noemi’s belly and rubbed the hot, furious skin. It burned under her palms, fevered. She could feel the desperate convulsions of Noemi’s strong internal muscles as they worked to expel her baby against her efforts.
“Oh,” Noemi grunted.
“Sorry!”
“No! No–ouugh–please. Don’t stop.”
Noemi closed her eyes and raised her chin, swaying back and forth as Mari stroked the tight, oblong surface. Experimentally, she flicked her thumb across Noemi’s bulging navel, and Noemi shivered.
The contraction ended, leaving Noemi worn and restless, her baby’s head burrowed deeper into her birth canal, fuller even, than she’d been before her labor. Mari removed her hands from Noemi’s belly, and Noemi appeared embarrassed, almost bashful.
“I wish–hah–you didn’t have to see me like this, much less care for me in such a compromising–ugh–condition. Modesty is hard enough to maintain when it comes to pregnancy.”
“You’re beautiful,” Mari said honestly.
Startled and disarmed, Noemi looked at her. It could have been the heat flush, or she could have been blushing again.
Part Two
They exited the restroom together and for the next hour, Noemi mingled near the pool bar, a drink in hand, and endured the powerful, relentless contractions. Mari stood beside her, and the first time another contraction struck she saw Noemi double over, muscles banding her belly, legs widening instinctively.
“Oh,” she whispered. “OH. I’m pushinnng-hnnngh.”
“No, you’re not,” Mari hissed back. “You can do this.” She placed a covert hand on Noemi’s curved back, massaging it gently, already accustomed to touching Noemi’s exposed, laboring body.
Noemi straightened, and painstakingly closed her legs as much as she could, attempting to hold her baby firm in her canal. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Her grunts diminished into effortful pants.
“Good,” Noemi moaned under her breath. “Good. I’m feeling like pushing all the time now, even when the contraction’s gone. There’s so much pressure, right between my legs.”
Another contraction that hour had Noemi leaning heavily on Mari for support, her obtrusive belly pushing into Mari’s own flat tummy, making Mari wonder at the sensation of such a packed, heavy womb. She could feel the steely stretched muscles rippling against her. The skin contact moved heat from Mari’s stomach to between her legs, and again her pussy was beating, quick and warm like a pulse. She worried that she was leaking through her bikini bottom now, dizzied by arousal. Then Noemi moaned in her ear, arms wrapped around her shoulders, and Mari felt a wetness drip down her inner thigh.
“Aye, go get your mom!”
“Should she be drinking in that state?”
Luckily, everyone was too drunk at this point to think much about it.
Contractions were gripping Noemi mercilessly now, with barely any pause or respite, and she was barely holding on every time, fighting her body, her deep primal instinct to bear down against the baby in her canal. Every time Mari anchored her, caressing her hard belly, urging her gently, just hang on a little while longer. The last contraction left Noemi senseless with pain and need, foggy-headed. Her legs were permanently spread now, stance ridiculously wide.
“Oh, dear…” she breathed, and Mari followed her gaze to her front. Two wet spots had formed in her bikini top, nipples standing straight through the fabric.
“Ms. Noemi,” Mari said, summoning her courage. She looked Noemi in the eye. “Let me help you.”
Noemi let herself be led to the restrooms again, barely able to put one foot in front of the other, everything about her so full and aching.
“You don’t need to come in with me,” she said. “I can, ah, expel the milk on my own.”
“Don’t worry, Ms. Noemi,” Mari said. “I promised I’d take care of you.”
Noemi was blushing hard now, appearing almost drunk in her labored state. She allowed Mari to sit her down on the toilet. Mari gently teased the white bikini top from her breasts, and Noemi shivered, curling her toes at just the light brush of fabric against her sensitive nipples. Her dark areolas spread over her breasts, and around them blue veins ran through soft, tan skin. Her nipples jutted stiffly, heavy and laden, beaded at the tips with milk.
Mari set the flat of her hand against one and marveled as more milk beaded at the surface and then began to drip down the swell of Noemi’s breast and onto the long shelf of her belly. Noemi hissed, a sharp intake of air.
“Okay?”
Noemi nodded, unable to speak. Keep going.
“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this,” Mari said. She sat on Noemi’s lap and clamped her mouth around her nipple, cupping her other breast in her hand. Milk spurted from both breasts in tiny forceful streams. Noemi clapped a hand over her mouth to contain a sharp noise of pleasure and release, her back arching, other hand raised, opening and closing in the air. Mari suckled, feeling Noemi squirm under her, and lowered her free hand between her own legs, strumming her clit. Suddenly Noemi’s belly went hard again and she threw back her head to moan loudly, and Mari couldn’t tell whether from ecstasy or agony or a thrilling mixture of both.
“Oh, oh—Mari, please don’t—don’t stop. Fuck.”
Mari continued to suckle and the hand groping Noemi’s breast slid to her swell instead, tracing her linea nigra. There was no give to the surface, drum-tight, and Mari could feel Noemi’s belly seize violently, driving her baby down in a deep, involuntary push. Noemi’s moan lowered, guttural with sudden pushing, and Mari instantly took her lips away from Noemi’s breast. The milk stream diminished to dribble, her breasts not even close to being drained. Noemi squirmed at the sudden lapse.
“No pushing, remember?” Mari had settled well into a dominant role, playing out her ultimate fantasy, Noemi utterly receptive, responding to her every demand.
She breathed, slowly, and her hard belly relaxed somewhat.
“Good,” Mari said.
Noemi shuddered. “Yes, just—please. Continue.”
Mari smiled and said something she’d always wanted to say to Noemi: “Good girl.” The faint marks in the corners of her mouth, the maturity in her maternal hips, the refined elegance of her fingers—it was all subversive.
“I’ve never—never been called that by anyone,” Noemi panted. “Especially not someone no twenty years my junior.”
Mari bent her head again and Noemi’s lips tightened in preparation. She latched back onto her nipple, milk gushing into her mouth, and began to thumb Noemi’s stony pointed navel, her entire belly an erogenous zone at this point, her navel the sensory peak. Noemi nearly shrieked, delirious, and beneath her thighs Mari felt her hips bucking, building not only toward delivery now, but a climax. Mari continued to masturbate herself furiously, working her mouth at the same time, sinking her teeth lightly into Noemi’s breast, just enough to leave light, red marks. Noemi’s thighs began to quake with tremors and Mari’s pussy squeezed tight, clit bared—she gasped against Noemi’s soft chest at the same time that Noemi’s lips parted in a perfect O. Then they both trembled through watery orgasms.
Noemi looked at her with glassy eyes, hazy. She leaned in, lips soft and open and receptive for a kiss—then stopped, delicate features twisting into a grimace, and released a thunderous groan, lifting her bottom off the toilet seat with the force of her pushing. Her eyes went wide. Mari could tell something had changed. She was feeling something, deep inside of herself.
She tried to articulate the sensation. “Guh—the baby, it’s—mmmm, it’s right between—the baby’s in my vagina!”
Mari looked at her. She was desperate, out of control, her face flushed and beaded with sweat, moist short hair clinging to her forehead. Her contracting belly, lower than ever.
Mari leaned forward and rammed a kiss onto her lips, and made her taste her own milk.
Part Three
Mari rose from Noemi’s lap. Her tortured spasming belly hung so low at this point that even when she raised herself from the toilet seat Mari still couldn’t see her pussy, just the creases where her extreme underbelly sank into the flesh of her hips, and the tiny white string of her bikini bottom wrapping them, dragged by the heavy downward sag. Noemi was already trying to push again, nothing else in her mind except the baby now coming out of her. Legs planted wide, firmly squatted. It didn’t seem like she could even straighten up at this point, so heavy and low with the head. She grunted loudly, frantic in her efforts to pull her bikini bottom down her thighs and alleviate the immense pressure in her bottom. Sweat poured from her slick skin. She was obviously in the final stages of labor, and like she had been twenty-one years ago, she was consumed by the need to birth her baby.
Mari stood, watching in the sticky panties she’d just masturbated herself hard in, pussy still convulsing. She could see the light red teeth marks ringing Noemi’s areola. She had marked her. Noemi was hers. And yet, she wasn’t paying any mind to the girl who had suckled her to orgasm. Her only focus was pushing her baby out into her bikini, and once she did that she would become a mother again. Mari felt insecure, possessive. Would things return to the way they had been before? Noemi never noticing her, never giving her the attention she had craved. Suddenly, Mari reached for Noemi’s fingers at the hem of her bikini.
“Ms. Noemi.” Her voice was a firm reprimand. “I thought you wanted me to help you. I can’t help you if you push your baby out right now.”
Noemi could barely talk at this point. “Have—to—PUSH.” Mari still felt that awe, seeing such an articulate, modest woman reduced to animalistic instinct. She groaned, bearing down more, and her groan tightened as the baby was driven deeper into her bottom.
Mari circled her, tracing her fingers lightly from Noemi’s contraction-wracked torpedo belly to her curving bent back. Standing behind her now, she took Noemi’s delicate wrists in her hands and moved them away from the bikini bottom. Then she bent to see Noemi’s squatted thighs and bottom, and between her cheeks the wetted white bikini was beginning to tent outward. Mari gently rolled the bikini down to Noemi’s widespread knees. The pregnancy pussy she had just seen hours ago was now unrecognizably swollen and bulged with a startlingly huge head, yet her lips had barely parted. Mari wasn’t even sure if Noemi could birth something so big. Between Noemi’s thighs she could see her brown hanging belly harden again, the contractions now relentless, forcing Noemi into constant pushing.
As she watched, Noemi’s pussy bulged more and reddened. Her lips slowly began to part, distending—until Mari clapped her hand over the head. Noemi’s hot pussy strained against her palm, but Mari didn’t permit the head to progress any further. She heard Noemi’s strangled sob of frustration.
“It’s okay,” Mari cooed. “If you can’t hold it in, I can for you.”
Gently, she slipped the bikini bottom back up Noemi’s thighs and pulled it firmly over her hips, wedging the baby tight in her pussy. It yielded a little, but certainly not enough for Noemi to deliver the head. Noemi gasped at the feeling of the fabric against her sensitive, tender opening.
Mari then redid Noemi’s top, tying it in the back.
“There,” she appraised Noemi, trembling and gasping, filled completely with her baby. “I think you’re ready to go back out. People are probably getting suspicious of us.”
“Okay,” Noemi closed her eyes. “Just a little longer.”
“That’s it, Ms. Noemi!” Mari’s eyes lit up. “Hold it in for me.”
It was evening now. A lot of people had deserted, and those who stayed were trashed, too inebriated to notice Mari step out with Noemi in tow. They didn’t notice that Noemi only walked in a squatted position now, knees bent, legs far apart. They didn’t notice the sweat beading her forehead, or the flush of her cheeks. They didn’t notice her hanging belly, constantly constricting with contractions and hard unceasing pushes. And they certainly didn’t notice the conspicuous bulge straining her bikini bottom, dripping fluids from between her thighs.
Nobody assumed such a composed woman would be bent under the thumb of a girl twenty years younger than her, crowning into her bikini right there at the poolside.
Noemi staggered to a wicker pool chair, and slowly lowered herself with Mari’s help, only to yelp and cringe away when her bulged bottom made contact with the seat.
“Here—“ Mari said. “Try to sit back instead.”
Noemi sat with her back arched, legs open to the poolside, so that the head rested in her pussy without being crammed between her and the chair. She was already pushing, her knuckles white, gripping the arm rests so hard, Mari thought they might snap in her grasp. Her toes curled. Liquid pattered the deck beneath the chair, a puddle spreading under her. The head parted her more. She seemed unable to spread her legs wide enough, grunting and pushing and stretching. Even when she paused, it no longer slid back in, kept her lips taut and spread.
She pushed. The head no longer moved. The fabric trapped it snugly. She pushed again. Hard. Nothing. She pushed and pushed, caught in endless contractions and pushes. Mari heard her name panted, again and again, as she circled the head over the fabric with light fingers. Satisfaction stirred her.
Noemi was hers.
Finally, Noemi clambered heavily from her seat. She dropped into a deep squat on the deck and threw her head back, interrupting her silent pushes with a strained moan as she bore down once again, pained for leverage, obeying her instinctual need for a position change despite her unyielding clothes. Mari heard her joints pop; her forty-something body was at its limit.
It was time. They both sensed it.
Mari leaned in. Her breath shivered Noemi’s ear. “Are you ready, Noemi?” she whispered, forgoing the “Ms” title for the first time.
Noemi nodded. Once.
Mari paused. “Are you sure?”
Noemi nodded vigorously as she heaved with another push.
“Come on, then.”
The party was over. Nobody was left except for Noemi’s daughter, who had been laying passed out in a reclining chair since noon.
The pool water was cool on Mari’s skin as she waded down the steps. She discarded her bikini as she went, and the cold pricked up her bare nipples. Noemi breathed a deep sigh as she waded in herself. The water enveloped her thighs, her heavy submerging belly, and finally her splayed breasts as she sank. Mari swam up behind her and hugged her around the circumference of her gravid belly. She pressed herself to the curve of Noemi’s back, naked skin touching as they drifted for a second. Only a second, though. Soon it was over and Noemi was placing her head back, into Mari’s shoulder, and pushing. Mari’s hands traveled to Noemi’s bikini bottom and—
“Push for me,” she breathed, and pulled it down.
Noemi shouted loudly and groaned her baby into Mari’s hand. Her vaginal lips stretched, forming an angry fervent oval around the massive head. She groaned, forceful in her efforts. Her thighs gaped open in the water. Her pussy was a slick, round, red circle now, straining and slipping around the head. Her groans were almost inhuman, overwhelmed with need and desire and basic instinct. Mari felt the head inch out with Noemi’s powerful pushes, and admired its size and width. This was coming from Noemi, coming through her, creaking her aged bones and spreading her in a way she hadn’t been since her youth.
Her belly raised and then dropped with a final push, the drawn muscles of her uterus convulsing, and she shrieked. The head reached its widest point. Eyes, nose, ears, she opened around each feature. For a moment her lips whitened, pale around the head. Then a pop, a burst, a release. Noemi shuddered. Her legs jerked in the water and opaque amniotic fluids spilled from her.
“Uggghhh.”
“You did it,” Mari said. She marveled at Noemi’s motherly drive as she caressed the head hanging from Noemi’s pussy. “Just the shoulders now.”
“Ohhhh,” Noemi brought her hand between her legs, holding Mari’s as they both cupped the head. “My baby,” she panted. “My baby….”
“Let’s meet her together,” Mari whispered.
Noemi arched in the pool, belly and breasts and upturned nipples raising above the water. With a sweet, quiet groan, she gave birth into Mari’s waiting hands.
Noemi sat beside the pool on the reclining chair, her stomach sagging in her lap, ruined by a dark linea nigra. Her short hair plastered her forehead. Her attention was on the baby suckling at her milky breast. She looked up when Mari trotted to her with spare towels, and smiled tiredly.
Mari leaned down and wrapped her in the towel, and kissed her on the cheek.
“So,” Noemi said. “How do we tell my other daughter?”
I’m so into the idea of a man helping his wife through giving birth and discovering he has a birth fetish. Helping her breathe through early contractions but getting hard. So hard. His dick is practically begging for him to stroke it but he has to help her through her labor. He’s scared she’ll see his hard on and think he’s a creep. He tried to hide how turned on he is but he can’t help it. When they finally get to the pushing stage, she gets between his legs and leans on his chest to push. The pressure of her butt on his raging erection, the sight of his baby’s head crowning below him, and the sounds his wife makes is too much. He can’t handle it and cums when she’s crowning. The aftershocks of the orgasm are overwhelming but he keeps it together so his wife doesn’t even realize he just experienced the most powerful orgasm of his life.
Would love for you to work your magic on this prompt 💜 @shhhsecretsideblog
Heavily pregnant and overdue, she’s been waiting in line for over an hour to meet her favorite author. Unfortunately, the baby’s decided to arrive now. If she could just make it a little longer, she could ask her all of her burning questions about her novel and tell her how appreciative she is of her work!
(birth denial, inconvenient birth, public labor)
What an amazing prompt, your ideas never fail to inspire me!! Thanks my lovely for the ask, really hope you like it 💜
[fpreg, 2500 words]
Dedicated Book Worm
The contractions had started on the bus ride into town, but she ignored them. A few twinges was nothing to worry about, certainly not today; today Ricki was going to the release and book signing of her favourite author’s latest novel. Her stomach was bubbling with excitement and nerves. She'd been a fan of this writer for years now but had never had the opportunity to get anything signed before, let alone meet the writer in person.
Unsurprisingly it was a very popular event at the bookstore and the queue was already pouring out the doors and lacing down the street. She was glad to have gotten here so early, with only a few dozen people in front of her. The downside of arriving so early meant having to wait in line, which wasn’t so great when you were over 40 weeks pregnant.
Ricki rubbed the taut skin of her stretched belly and exhaled a long quiet breath. The cramping had started to ramp up on the bus journey and she tried to dismiss them, but after standing outside for the best part of an hour she was slowly realising these pains were the real deal - consistent and definitely getting stronger. She debated texting her partner, to tell her she was having contractions, but then she’d have to leave this event. Looking longingly through the glass window of the bookstore and seeing the rows of chairs all set up for the author’s reading of the new book, Ricki nodded to herself, determined. She would stay. She had time to get her copy of the new book, listen to her favourite author, and get it signed before she’d have to tell her girlfriend about the baby’s expected arrival. Labour took ages, and this baby certainly hadn’t been in any hurry to be born.
The line was slow-moving when they started letting people in, everyone inching forward every few minutes. As her large belly regularly tightened, Ricki found herself holding it and swaying slightly as she waited eagerly in the queue, thinking about what she might say when she met the famous writer. Her stomach flipped with nerves but then spasmed aggressively, resulting in a soft moan slipping out her mouth as she exhaled. The person in front gave her a worried look after clocking the large and low baby bump hanging off Ricki’s hips. “This little one is just as excited as I am to get a copy of the new book.” Ricki tried to joke and reassure the concerned looks she was getting. But her mind couldn’t help noticing just how frequently her belly was cramping.
All this standing around had put a serious strain on her back, but there was something else, something new; a weighted pressure sitting deeper in her pelvis. Maybe the baby had finally got in the right position. It would be about bloody time, but they wouldn’t be ruining this afternoon for her, Ricki thought to herself.
Eventually she got to the front of the line and presented her ticket for the event. Ricki would be glad to sit down, her back was killing her and the constant cramping of her heavy belly was draining all her energy. “Wow, you look ready to pop.” The bookshop employee said, scanning her ticket and letting the heavily pregnant woman into the cordoned off area. Ricki managed a half-hearted smile, trying to keep her face from showing any signs of discomfort.
Despite the need to sit down, the weight and pressure between her hips was squashing her bladder and Ricki made a beeline to the toilets before the reading started. Thankfully the single unisex toilet was vacant and she disappeared inside. She used the privacy to let out the pained groans she’d been holding in for the last hour, as her belly contracted yet again. “Mnnnnghhhh…. Oh why now…” Ricki moaned, palming the walls of the bathroom and shifting her hips around in large circles. “You can wait a little bit longer. You were quite comfy in there last week on your due date.”
When the contraction faded she used the facilities, noticing quite a bit more liquid leaking into her pad, and hoped that wasn’t the start of her waters breaking. Standing up from the toilet seat Ricki felt the weight quite literally drop back down in her pelvis, the head of the baby wedged harshly against her dilating cervix. “Ooof!—” she clasped her bump, taking a moment to get used to the heavy feeling and the pressure that it brought.
The hustle and bustle of the bookstore was getting louder, the sounds of excited people entering the event seeping through the bathroom door. “Come on bubs, let’s go hear all about the new book.” Ricki said to her bump before leaving the bathroom and going back into the store.
Unfortunately for Ricki the contractions were still coming and getting closer and closer, now almost impossible to stay standing. After waiting in another line to collect her copy of the latest book she had to grasp onto the counter and swallow down the grunt she so desperately wanted to make.
“Ma’am, are you alright?” The girl behind the desk asked, panicked.
“Mmm-hmm.” Ricki gritted and nodded her head, pulling her lips into a forced smile. “Just a c-cramp.”
She needed to sit down, and fast. The labouring woman took the first empty chair she could find in the back row and sighed a heavy breath of relief. She would be okay. She just needed to rest, yes, that was it. Her excitement was heightening everything, that’s all. Holding her copy of the new book in one hand, she rubbed her swollen stomach with the other and prayed the pains would slow down enough to enjoy this event.
Typically there was a delay in the start time, the author had only just arrived and it would be a bit longer before the event could begin. Ricki was sweating by this point, squirming in her seat and trying to keep an even and subtle breathing rhythm. The pressure in her pelvis had suddenly built to astronomical heights and she found herself rocking and quietly humming on the chair. Her hands gripped the edges of the seat, knuckles turning white, as the waves got stronger and stronger. She tried not to clasp her bump so as not to attract unwanted attention, but god did it hurt. The contracting muscles contorting the shape of her pregnant belly was almost visible through her clothing.
She was wearing a pair of wide legged dungarees patterned with sunflowers, a thin black cotton t shirt underneath. Even through the denim like fabric Ricki could see as well as feel the way the whole sphere of her belly hardened, squishing into a solid and narrow torpedo shape over her thighs. “Ooohhhhhhh….” She used the book to fan her damp and sweaty face, no doubt looking flushed in the bookstore, which was already getting steadily warmer as more and more people filled in.
Eventually the host took to the stage and introduced the special guest and Ricki’s eyes widened with glee at seeing her long time favourite author in person, standing only a few metres away. Her belly seized again in that moment, bringing forth a wave of pressure deep between her hips, and she couldn’t stop the groan from escaping her lips. Thankfully her labouring sounds were swallowed by the loud round of applause. Without thought, and focussed entirely on the beloved person at the front of the crowd, Ricki’s legs widened automatically on her chair. Unconsciously finding any way to relieve the building pressure.
Then, the room was silent, the writer stood centre stage with an open copy of her latest book. Ricki was going to hear a new extract, read aloud by the glorious female writer herself, and she waited like everyone else with bated breath.
As the reading began the heavily pregnant woman tried to focus, tried to give this once in a lifetime fangirl moment her undivided attention, but the pressure was getting unbearable. Every few seconds Ricki’s mind was pulled back to the baby in her womb, the feeling of the hard skull sinking deeper into her birth canal, her baby determined to be born today. She panted, as quietly as she could. The thought of attracting unwanted attention right now was mortifying, if anyone discovered she was in labour— No, she was not going to let anyone see her struggle, or give any reason to stop this talk and pull focus from the rightful star.
She lasted about 15 minutes into the reading before it happened, something instinctual and primal tripped a warning siren in her mind. The pressure, it had built too much and now… oh god, now she needed to push. She really needed to push.
It was automatic, she had no control. Ricki’s body slumped slightly in her chair and gripping her book tightly with both hands her uterus contracted and squeezed and…pushed the baby further down. Oh fuck. Her legs were wide on the chair, encroaching into the space of her neighbours. But she couldn’t close them. It felt like she was sitting on the baby’s head. Trapped in another bout of pushing Ricki sucked in a lung full of air and bore down once more. Silently as she could.
The labouring mother lost all track of what the author was saying or reading. Occasionally she’d hear the audience laugh or “awww”, and she was missing everything. All that she could focus on was not giving birth right here in the bookstore. She could make it. She had to. Her girlfriend wasn’t here, and her book hadn’t been signed. She had to make it just a little bit longer.
With every ounce of determination she could muster, Ricky shifted herself upright and painfully pulled her legs together. God it felt like she was sitting on a bowling ball. A whimper slipped from her throat and her eyes screwed shut. The person beside her gave Ricki a concerned look. The labouring woman gritted her teeth and forced a friendly grin.
The reading eventually came to a conclusion, Ricki having succumbed to another half a dozen pushes in that time, but any progress was halted by her posture on the chair and the unforgiving fabric of her dungarees. The owners of the bookstore advised everyone to start making an orderly queue to get their books signed, gesturing to a table and lines of rope set up nearby. Ricki was so close, so close to meeting her idol. Unfortunately the baby was keen to join in.
As she stood the boulder in her pelvis pressed fiercely against the walls of her birth canal and Ricki had to grasp the chair in front of her and instinctively bear down. Oh fuck… she wasn’t going to make it. Her primal grunt wasn’t noticed through the sounds of chairs scratching the floor and numerous conversations erupting around the room. The baby was so low, dangerously low. Feeling like it was sitting just behind her lips, bulging obscenely into her wide-leg trousers.
The crowd around her moved as one, all the guests making their way to the line for autographs. She should have said something, should have excused herself, the baby was quite literally trying to come out right here in the bookstore. Instead, Ricki got caught in the sea of people and somehow ended up in line and surrounded by excited people waiting for autographs.
Just a little bit longer bubs… please. She pleaded with the swell of her belly cradled in her palms. Sweat was dripping down her neck beneath her long hair, her black t-shirt sodden with the exhaustion of her labour. How Ricki managed to stay standing she did not know. Oddly the pain in her hips was easier to manage when upright but gravity was making the pressure unbearable. Whenever a contraction hit she was forced to give in, to bear down with the squeezing muscles, knees bendy subtly and her mouth clamping shut.
They were productive pushes… she was sure of that fact. The baby’s head was slowly but surely spreading her open, her gait unnaturally wide as the baby inched further into the world while she stood and waited in line. Oh god, just— just wait.
This queue moved faster than the one before and Ricki was shuffled forward every few seconds. The author was there, within metres, hair perfectly curled and wearing a flawless outfit. The mum-to-be looked around nervously, realising how stuck in the crowd she had gotten - the only clear way out was forward. Two people, there were just two people in front of her. She had to meet her idol, she couldn’t walk away now, not when she was this close.
Maybe she could time her pushes, was there enough time between them to say Hi, big fan, please sign my book before she had to push again? One person in front now. So close.
Another contraction, oh fuck, and Ricki widened her legs slightly, bending knees ever so subtly and bearing down. The crown in her underwear was getting bigger. It burnt, bringing tears to her eyes. The head was coming out!
“It’s an emotional time isn’t it? Meeting someone you’ve admired for so long.” The person next to her said, bouncing on their toes and excitedly watching the writer sign another book. Ricki couldn’t reply, couldn’t even nod, as her body fully committed to pushing out her baby and bringing it almost to a full crown.
Next. Ricki was next in line. Fuck, what was she gonna do? Before she could form any cohesive thought someone was ushering her forwards towards the desk, towards the friendly smiling face of her idol. The woman’s hand stretched out, ready to take Ricki’s copy of the book to sign.
“Who shall I make it out to?” The author asked kindly, despite having said it numerous times over.
“R-Ricki… w-with an ‘i’…. Oooohhhh….” She stuttered, trying to hold back the groan. Her hands were clasped beneath her contracting belly, every muscle tense and trembling as she fought to hold herself together.
“Are you alright my dear?” The writer asked, staring too long at Ricki’s swollen stomach and the way her fingers were gripped at the fabric of her clothing, knuckles thin and white.
“….no…..” Ricki admitted. “Ooooohhhhh….” The next wave of pressure suddenly hit her like a steam train and any previous plans shot straight out the window. She had to push…. She had to bear down right now…. this second. The burning, the stretching, it was all too much, she had to get this baby out—
“Mmmnnghhhhh!!!!!!!” Grabbing the edge of the desk Ricki bent her knees and dipped her hips as she pushed ferociously, bringing the baby beyond a crown, shoving it past her lips and almost birthing the head in one go.
“Oh my goodness, you poor dear. Someone call an ambulance! This woman is giving birth.” The author said, jumping to her feet and rushing around the desk. “What are you doing here in your condition?” The kind words were accompanied by the writer rubbing her back and holding her hand.
[Labor Denial, inconvenient birth] Imagine for a moment you're a professor at prestigious college. It's just the beginning of the final exam period of the year and your huge swell of twin belly has proven difficult to maneuver in your 38th week of pregnancy. Braxton hicks are a constant plague on you during the first and second day of finals and by the end of the third you're certain your belly has lowered a bit. At the end of the fourth day as you get ready for bed, a new and strengthened pain takes hold of your overstretched bump. It lasts longer than any braxton you had before, your belly even feels harder beneath your palms as it progresses.
You are still two weeks out from being full term and your doctor assured you that your babies had no interest in making an early appearance. Besides, there was no way you could miss the last day of exams, your employers would hardly approve.
In your mind, you decide these are just mildly more intense braxtons. Nothing more. You keep telling yourself this as the walk into the first test of the final day with a distinct, new pressure building in your low abdomen. You keep telling yourself it's nothing as you absentmindedly rock your hips during the first exam. You don't bother timing these pains; no need to time braxton hicks contractions. You ignore the growing pressure as students submit their exams. You ignore the slight wetness between your thighs when they shuffle out. You ignore the pain flaring in your hips as you shuffle to the next exam room.
All you need is to get through the next six hours of exams, go home, and get some rest. These pains were just the product of stressful times of exam season...
Keep Calm & Carry On
AN: thanks for a great prompt anon! Fpreg, labour denial, clothing birth. 2538 words.
Letting out a short grunt, I cup the underside of my low and heavy belly and arduously push myself up out of the chair. Being so heavily pregnant at the end of the school year, two babies wrestling in my belly, was no joke. Each week during my third trimester brought forth a new ache or pain and as I approached my due date I was regretting not taking early maternity leave. But the university was having staffing issues, there were barely enough faculty members to cover all the end of year exams as it was without me taking early leave. Plus I couldn’t exactly bow out now at this late notice. I couldn’t do that to all the students, they’d worked so hard.
So I grit my teeth and persevered through the long week of exams, through all the aches and pains and practice contractions. Only a few hours left on the final day and soon I would be at home resting for the double arrival. As I reached the exit of the now-empty exam room I had to pause and grab the door frame when another braxton hicks rippled across my taut skin. A groan slipped from my mouth and my knees slightly dipped as the wave built and built before eventually peaking with a lightning bolt of pain to my crotch. “Ooohhhhh… you need to s-stop t-this…” I muttered to the babies in my belly. “I know you’re practising for the main event but jeeze… mnnhhh… please just give me a break for a few hours.”
Unusually, the babies seemed to respond to my plea and after a particularly strong movement, with one baby’s head nestling deep within my pelvis, they settled quietly in my belly. “Phew, thank you. We’ll be done soon, I promise.” I dropped off the papers from my previous exam in the designated tray in the teachers lounge and picked up the stack of booklets for my next exam. After taking a quick breather, drinking some water and dampening the sweat from the back of my neck, I began the trek to my next exam in the hall on the other side of campus.
My body seemed to be practising for labour every few minutes at this point, each wave forcing me to stop and brace against a solid surface and breathe my way through them. I was grateful the students were all in their examination halls so the campus was empty, no one to see me hunched over my bump leaning against a wall.
“Hooohooo… oof! Come on babies, this is getting anno— annoying now—!” The weight between my legs was ever increasing, my waddle so distinctively wide it was almost comical, if not for the pressure and pain that came with it. I couldn’t stop the growl rumbling in my throat as my entire belly turned to stone and squeezed hard. The stack of booklets trembled in my hands and I was panting heavily. I wanted to go home, fighting these pains all day was draining all my energy, but I just couldn’t abandon the students. When the pain passed I fixed my expression and walked as determinedly as I could towards my next shift, my free hand rubbing the constant ache in my lower belly.
When I got to the exam I grit my teeth through the roll call and amazingly managed to walk up and down the rows of students to hand out the test papers, but my ability to stay standing was wavering fast and I plumped down on the chair behind the moderator's desk with a humph. My hands naturally gravitated towards my belly, my fingers splayed each side across the tensing swell, and I took measured deep breaths.
“Are you alright, Miss?” One of the students asked.
“Hmm? Oh, yes I’m fine.” I tried to reassure the student and keep my eyes from closing as the wave continued to build. “Y-you may turn over your papers and begin.”
The contraction built to astronomical heights and my face scrunched, silently bearing the pain of the worst braxton hicks yet. There was just so much pressure, my pelvis was screaming at me. Unconsciously my legs were wide beneath the table, my belly sitting heavily between my thighs, my hips tilting outwards in my slumped position. Thankfully the wooden desk had a modesty panel so the students could not see beneath the table or view my ridiculously widened legs.
One of the baby’s felt so damn low, as if one good sneeze would shoot them out, but I was sure the heaviness was simply a common feeling for being this advanced with twins. It couldn’t be as low as it felt, I’d have to be in labour for that, which I was not.
As time ticked on I barely noticed my body’s subtle movements, trying to keep my concentration focused on the students and their exam, ignoring all the aches and pains that my body was subjecting me to. I wasn’t even aware of when I started rocking forward and back in my chair, or when I lifted my hips off the seat…? Unconsciously I’d pushed my weight forward onto the desk, leaning on my forearms and elbows, subtly lifting my backside and easing the fiery ache building in my pelvis. God, this chair was torturous, I couldn’t find any position that didn’t make me want to scream.
Eventually I gave up on sitting, resorting instead to pacing the room keeping one firm hand pressed into my lower back while the other lifted my heavy belly. The students paid no attention, focusing on the exam papers, all too used to the moderators patrolling around the room and monitoring for any cheating.
The walking was helping the aggressive pains in my hips but it felt like the movement was bringing the baby down even lower. My breaths came thick and fast, my constant movements tiring my body but I couldn’t bear to sit back down in that chair. Another wild pain lashed across my middle and I was forced to stop my pacing, thankfully while I was at the back of the hall behind all the students facing the other way. My belly tightened, urgent and sharp, and I nearly doubled over but instead threw both palms out in front and braced against the wall. My hips were making wild circular motions that I couldn’t control and somewhere in the depths of my mind was a calling to squat down.
Fighting against my body’s instincts I clamped my mouth shut and panted through my wide nostrils. Fuck, it felt like one of the baby’s was coming out… but that couldn’t be right… I wasn’t in labour. But— but then why did I feel a need to push?! I glanced up at the clock, no phones were allowed in the exam hall, and saw I still had two more hours to go.
Two hours, I could do that. Even if I was in labour, a twin birth would take a long time. Everything was fine. I paced along the back wall of the exam hall, my fingers brushing the plasterboard keeping constant contact with a nearby surface to keep myself grounded and stable. Up and down I waddled, restless in my taut and tired skin. The waves crashing through my uterus every few minutes were creeping towards agony and I was finding it harder to stay silent. Just a few hours. That’s all I had to do. But the weight and pressure was sinking lower by the minute and I was having to bite down on my fist to refrain from groaning.
With just over an hour to go I noticed a hand go up at the front of the sea of students. Reluctantly I left my haven at the back of the room and waddled painfully down the row towards the person in question.
“Have you got any spare pens? Mine has run out.” They asked, their eyebrows pinching at seeing my exhausted and sweaty state. “Mmngg— sure.” I managed to grit and went back to my desk for the extra stationary. After providing the student with extra pens I barely made it back to the desk before the next contraction struck, a deep low groan escaping from my mouth as I curled forward and braced the wooden frame, my hips swaying instinctively against the pain.
“Oh my gosh Miss, are you okay?” One student asked in a panic. My only response was another deep groan, louder this time, as I battled the urgent squeezing that was shoving a baby’s head through my cervix.
“Shit! She’s having her baby!” One student cried out.
I shook my head frantically, trying to keep some semblance of control within the exam, despite the incessant tensing and building pressure. “It— it’s fine. Everyone back to your tests.” I tried to assure the students, even though I couldn’t move from my position gripping the desk. “I… it’s possible I’m in labour but… just carry on with your final exam okay. Labour takes hours, it’s— ooooh— it’s nothing to worry about.” The grin plastered on my face was entirely false, the pressure building between my thighs was telling me I might not have as long as I’d hoped.
Instead, when the contraction waned, I stood up and confidently sat back down at the desk and shuffled papers mindlessly and eventually the students went back to their exams. These babies were coming, I could feel it, the giant boulder in my pelvis was almost certainly one of the heads burrowing its way out of me. I straightened up, blocking any exit with the seat of the chair. Just an hour to go, I was going to make it.
I lasted 10 minutes before my determination faltered, the urge to push returning with a vengeance. There was no stopping it, my only hope was the uncomfortable but strategic position on the chair. As soon as the contraction began tightening my womb my body was bearing down uncontrollably. My head dipped, my chin to my chest, my fingers white knuckling the desk as I pushed. Fuck. The head was moving down, I could feel it as it inched lower towards the exit. I barely had time to catch my breath before my body pushed again, hard, fully leaning into the contraction and bringing this baby out whether I wanted to or not.
Through the incessant contractions and the desperate urgency of these babies to be born, I held fast to my position on the chair, blocking any exit with the seat. I was granted only a short reprieve before the next contraction struck and I was back to my silent pushing. I couldn’t make a noise, couldn’t distract the students from their graduating exam, but I also couldn’t do anything else to delay or stop the birth. I was trapped in this never ending cycle of pain. The head was right at my opening, bulging my sensitive lips into my underwear. I wanted to scream, to cry, to open my legs, but I couldn’t. One glance at the clock told me there was only 20 minutes left of the exam. I could make it.
My babies however, were not too keen on following my schedule, and even with my upright position I could feel myself opening around the head. This baby wanted out and it wanted out now. When the burning started I couldn’t help but widen my legs, throwing each thigh over the edges of my seat. My body kept on pushing, through every grievous wave of pain that squeezed my middle, and I couldn’t stop myself from pushing in earnest. The grunt that echoed my throat caught the attention of a few students at the front and I tried to offer a reassuring smile, desperately hiding the fact the head of one of my babies was crowning into my underwear.
When I let go of the push the baby retreated and sighed in relief. But this was short lived as I was back to pushing again barely a minute later. Fuck! I had no phone, a room full of students, and two babies that were desperate to get out of my body. In the short break between pushes the high-pitched ding of a bell sounded signalling the end of the exam. Everyone in the room looked up at me. My chest was heaving with laboured breaths, I gulped and managed to say “Pens down everyone. P-please leave your papers on your d-desks and exit the hall…”
The scratching of chairs on hardwood floors echoed the room as the students stood up and left the exam hall via the door at the back of the room. I was supposed to have collected each paper before dismissing them but there was no way in hell I could stand up. The next contraction was upon me before all the students left and I panted my way through the squeezing urgency of my rock-hard belly.
The crown of the baby’s head was getting bigger and bigger and the second the final student left, the door closing behind them, I let out a deep primal groan that I had been stifling for the past few hours. The head came to a full crown in my underwear and I sobbed and squirmed as everything burned white hot. Out. I needed this baby out of me!!!! With a forceful grunt I disappeared into a deep earnest push and birthed the head of my first child into my knickers.
“Mnnnnghhh… ohh god…. It’s out— the head…. Oh fuck…” With a trembling hand I felt the bulge of my trousers and the head that now sat at the apex of my thighs. “Why couldn’t you wait… just a bit longer guys?!” Before I could form any sort of plan or thought, another tightening rippled across my belly and I knew there was no stopping what was about to happen. Gripping the edge of my seat I bore down with everything that I had, the shoulders stretching me as wide as the head, and I wailed as I threw my head back.
“Oh my gosh Miss Jones…?” A voice came from the other side of the hall. I opened my eyes to see the headmistress in the doorway. “Grrrhhhh… babies are coming—!!!” I grunted and roared, pushing the shoulders out which was immediately followed by the torso of the first baby slipping out and down my trouser leg.
My colleague and boss rushed across the hall to me, wide eyed and panicking. “You poor dear, why didn’t you tell us you were in labour?” She asked, helping me pull the waistband of my trousers down so I could get to my newborn babe.
I couldn’t speak, in too much shock and trembling, an instinctual need to hold my baby was the only thing I was capable of. The infant immediately gurgled and cried as I lifted them up and placed them on my chest, wiping their face and checking every inch of my new baby.
“You did it, goodness, you had your baby.” The head teacher muttered in awe.
“Yeah… but mnnggh… I’m having twins, remember.” I grumbled, as I felt my womb contract again…
