Kevin's hand shot away from his hip and grabbed hold tight to the back of the couple's sofa. This was no time to worry about politeness, grace, or care. His body had work to do. All he could do was hold on, cry, scream, wail — anything he needed to get through the pain he was suffering as a passenger.
"you're doing so good", Sarah offered through the cacophony of moans and groans.
Finally, the consistently growing pain reached its peak and began to retreat back to the dark hole it emerged from. At least for now. Behind Sarah, Jane watched with a fierce intensity, her eyes locked on Kevin and her hands clamped over her ears.
This was a moment they had waited on for ears. They had hoped for it for so long, prayed that it would one day happen, and celebrated ferociously when it finally did. None of that made this event, this night, or this amazing gift any easier to bear in the moment, however.
The kind young midwife attending the birth came back to Kevin's side as the last of the contraction tailed off. Without a word, she hurriedly poked at his abdomen with a blunt plastic instrument and looked to the monitor attached to its cord. The room was filled again with another wave of noise, though this time it was the soothing and familiar thwump-thwump-thwump of the baby's heart rate as it waited to be delivered.
Jane dropped her hands away from her ears and fixed her eyes on Sarah again. "Soon," she mouthed silently to her. Sarah smiled in return.
"Baby's not far away now, I'd say next couple of contractions we're going to think about pushing," the Midwife told Kevin." Let's think about getting these shorts off and we'll make you a little more comfortable,"
Kevin agreed, hooking his thumbs into the waistband and sliding down his long baggy athletic shorts. Both Jane and Sarah turned away for the undressing. Neither were sure if they should turn back now, or wait a while longer. I mean, who's to say what's polite in a situation like this? They were both grateful to Kerry who broke the tension with further instructions.
"That's good, we'll just put these to the side for now," she began examining the evident drop in Kevin's belly. "Good, good. Now — are you happy for the parents to watch, or do you want me to tell them when the head is out?"
"Anything's fine, whatever they want" Kevin whispered with his eyes closed and his head hung low towards his stomach. Another contraction was bearing down on him fast, he was exhausted, and the agony never seemed to fully dispel between one set of pains and the next. Yet, here he was standing naked in the living room of two semi-strangers he barely even knew. He hardly felt in a position to make demands.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarghhhhh," he howled again, gripping hold of the sofa, opening his hips, urging the head to come down and get out, fast.
Sarah had turned around again but kept her gaze averted to the nearest wall. She knew she'd have to look as the head made its way out but it all felt so impersonal, and impolite. In contrast, Jane was transfixed.
She had always been fascinated by the process of pregnancy and birth. Especially birth. Something about that incredible transformation fascinated her. And the wretched agony of delivery that had to be endured. It was raw and primal, surreal and somehow so incredibly natural too.
She wanted to be there, even just for a second. She wanted to know what it was to be in such wretched agony, to put herself there by choice, and know that there's no other way out but through. She imagined knowing that the only way out was through a much greater agony and effort must have been such an unimaginable torture she had to know what it was like.
For years she had bemoaned the laws of nature that said she wouldn't ever be able to give birth herself. She would never feel that pain, make those incredible efforts, or gush in the unimaginable relief that it was all suddenly over.
She felt so incredibly fortunate that she was getting to be a part of the experience. For a long time, she had wondered if it was really going to come true. Now it was. She was witnessing the birth of their own baby boy.
Kevin broke her trance with a sudden gasp and a jolt as he lowered into a squatting position. Jane was alarmed, it looked so painful and so urgent that he struggled just to control his breath. She shot a look to the midwife, expecting to see her somehow jump into action but she was as relaxed as she'd ever seen her.
"Ahhh," Kevin gasped between loaded breaths. "I can feel him, he's right there, he's.right.there!"
"Yup, good! It won't be long," Kerry said with a despicably cheery tone.
For the first time, he could feel the weight of the head as it barrelled into his cervix and tried in vain to squeeze its way into the shaft of his cock. He was in transition. Having dreaded this moment for so many months it was finally here and now he felt unprepared. He didn't know whether to cry, push, or scream. He wanted all three.
In this crisis moment, Sarah went to his side with care and compassion. She placed his free hand around her shoulders and her own arm around his back where she rubbed long, gentle circles.
"You're doing good, so good!" she murmured into his chest. "You're amazing, you've got this,"
Kevin's eyes shot to the heavens again as another contraction bore down on him. Now, he could feel more than pain alone as it shifted and pressed on the baby inside of him and brought it further down toward his pelvis. It was agony. Yet, somehow worse than the agony he was enduring was the humiliation he was fighting to avoid.
With every ounce of pressure, another squeeze of power came bearing down against his prostate. While he knew that it was inevitable, occurring in more than 80% of deliveries according to his research, it didn't make it any easier when the time came.
Time after time the head rode down and crashed into this sensitive organ with an ever-building pressure that tormented and toyed with him. Standing in the middle of the room, holding on to Sarah for support, he cursed his body silently as his flaccid cock grew swollen and erect in front of the three women.
"urghhhh, arghhhhh," he groaned, looking down. "I'm... I'm sorry,"
"Nonsense," Kerry replied, waving her hand through the air.
"No, it's fine," Sarah whispered to him. "You're ok, It's natural,"
She smiled, resting her hand on his low-hanging belly. She could feel the embers of the last contraction continue to ripple and spasm, shifting one way and then another as it conspired to bring her baby down.
However, Kevin couldn't relax into these agonizing contractions in the way he had before. The pulsing pounding pressure that they railed onto his prostate was sending him careening down a path he didn't want to follow — even if he knew it was inevitable.
With every pulse and movement his cock throbbed harder and with more intensity than it had before before. It was agonizingly strong, yet, a welcome relief from the exhausting monotony of never-ending pain. For another second his eyes rolled back in his head as he relished the moment. He could live in this moment forever if only he was alone. Then, he snapped back out of it. He wasn't alone and he had no idea what he should do.
He thought about asking the couple to step outside the room. It would only be for a few seconds, minutes at most, just until the final phase of transition had passed. But to send someone out of the room in their own home? It felt so unbearably hostile. Besides, this was their birth as much as it was his.
Then again, when he had been asked to be a surrogate for a young lesbian couple, he could have hardly envisaged standing between them in their very own home fighting every bodily urge not to cum. Had they? He hoped they'd prepared, perhaps even researched at least as half as much as he had. But whether they had or they hadn't, he hoped they could ready themselves fast because he was quickly losing the fight.
"uhhhrhhh, ummmm , ahhhhhhhrhghh," Kevin groaned and moaned as Sarah held him firm. He gripped back just as hard as another round of contractions heaved through his body and a familiar wave of energy reared its beautiful head. This time, he knew there was no stopping it.
Kerry sprung into action with an instinct that bordered on a sixth sense — putting down mats and sheets that covered the surrounding area.
"Huuuuuhhhh, Huuuuuuh, Hoooooooaaaaaa," Kevin panted and groaned in a loud booming voice that filled the room. This time, Jane didn't cover her ears but instead watched transfixed as Kevin fought through sensations she wondered if she could handle.
Again his cock throbbed and shifted, this time in more exaggerated motions. "Huuuuh, hmmmmm, oh. my. god." he clenched his fists hard until his knuckles went tight, his toes scrunched under his feet and his breath stopped save for select labored gasps that escaped from his lips. "Ohmygod, I'm ah ahhh ahhh, I'M GOINGTO, YESSS, urghhhhhhhmmmmmmnggggggg,"
(4.3k, triplets, (t)mpreg, graphic description of childbirth)
He knew the moment the pain climaxed—with just another push, the head would be out. And yet, when it came time to do that, the contraction ended.
All he could do as he realized he'd be stuck like this until the next contraction was breathe. Gabriel, however, grabbed his arm and repositioned them both so they could reach between Julius's legs. Before he knew what was happening, Julius was feeling the damp, hairy head of his baby.
My baby.
"You did that," Gabriel whispered to him, and then rubbed his belly. "You're so fertile and beautiful."
The position wasn't comfortable to hold, so Julius had to let go after a moment, but after that, he didn't mind the baby's head lodged at the widest point of his pelvis. It was painful, yes, but it was amazing.
The honeymoon had been a sun soaked blur of laughter and tangled sheets in a small coastal cottage. Fern, just twenty two years old with a frame so slight she could still shop in the girls' section, had never known happiness like those two weeks with her soldier husband, Caleb. He was broad shouldered and soft spoken, with hands that could strip a rifle blindfolded but held her like she was made of spun glass. They had married in a quiet courthouse ceremony, her white dress borrowed from her sister, his dress uniform crisp and smelling of starch. The baby was a honeymoon surprise, a fact that made Caleb grin like a boy every time he placed a palm on her growing belly.
Now, eight months later, that belly was a tight drum stretched over a baby who felt less like a blessing and more like a small planet determined to split her in two. The military hospital was a gray building with linoleum floors that smelled of bleach and antiseptic. Fern had been in active labor for fourteen hours when they finally admitted her, her contractions stacking on top of each other like freight trains crashing into a wall.
The nurses were not unkind. That was the thing Fern would later tell herself over and over. They were not unkind. But they were stern, their faces carved from years of seeing young wives cry and beg and break. They moved with economy, checking her dilation with brisk fingers, strapping monitors around her belly without asking permission, speaking to her in clipped sentences that began with "you need to" and ended with "for the baby."
Fern needed to breathe. Fern needed to stop making so much noise. Fern needed to understand that this was what birth felt like and no, she could not have an epidural yet because the anesthesiologist was in a C section.
Caleb held her hand through each wave, his palm sweaty but steady. "You're doing so good, baby. You're doing so good." His voice cracked on the second good. He had been up for twenty hours, had watched his wife vomit into a plastic basin and then apologize for it, had seen her face go gray with a contraction that lasted ninety seconds and left her shaking.
The lithotomy position was not Fern's choice. She had read the books, the ones with pictures of women on hands and knees or squatting in birth pools. But the military hospital had a protocol, and the protocol said flat on her back with her legs in cold metal stirrups, her knees splayed apart, her most vulnerable self exposed to the fluorescent lights overhead. The nurses positioned her like a specimen on a slide, adjusting the angle of the bed until her tailbone pressed hard into the thin mattress.
Transition arrived like a fist through a window.
Fern had been coping, or at least she had been surviving. She had breathed through contractions while kneeling on the floor, had let Caleb rub her lower back, had even managed a few weak jokes between the waves. But transition stripped away every coping mechanism she had. The contractions came one on top of another with no break, no breath, no mercy. Her cervix was ripping open from eight to ten centimeters, and her body responded with primal, animal terror.
She sobbed. Not cried or whimpered, but sobbed with her whole chest, tears streaming down her temples into her hair. "I can't," she gasped to no one and everyone. "I can't do this. Please. Please, I can't."
The nurse, a woman named Doris with steel gray hair and hands that had delivered hundreds of babies, pressed two fingers to Fern's inner thigh. "You are doing it," she said flatly. "You have no choice but to do it. The baby is coming."
Caleb's jaw tightened. He leaned over the bed rail, his face inches from the nurse's. "She's asking for help. Can you get the doctor? She's been asking to push for an hour."
"The doctor will come when she's fully dilated," Nurse Doris said without looking at him. "Pushing before that will swell her cervix and prolong labor."
Fern screamed. It was not a movie scream, high and dramatic. It was a raw, guttural howl that tore up from somewhere deep in her belly, the sound of a young woman being unmade by her own body. The contraction peaked and held, a vise around her middle, and she felt something shift low in her pelvis, a pressure so immense she thought her bones might snap.
"Something's happening," she choked out. "I feel like I need to push. I can't stop it."
Caleb pressed the call button again, then again when no one answered. He walked to the door of the small room and called down the hallway. "My wife needs the doctor now. She's been in transition for two hours. Someone get in here."
A different nurse appeared, younger, with kind eyes but a tired face. "The doctor is on his way. He's finishing a delivery down the hall. Tell her to blow through the contractions. Little puffs, like she's blowing out candles. No pushing until he says so."
Fern tried. She really tried. She blew and puffed and panted while her body rebelled against her, while her uterus clamped down with the force of a fist closing around her spine. But the urge to push became impossible to resist. It was not an urge so much as a command, a biological directive that bypassed her brain entirely. Her abdominal muscles seized of their own accord, bearing down, and she felt the baby drop lower, felt a burning stretch at her perineum that made her shriek.
"Stop pushing!" Nurse Doris was suddenly at the foot of the bed, her stern mask cracking into something sharper. "Do not push. You are going to tear."
"I can't stop," Fern wept. "I'm not doing it. My body is doing it."
Caleb grabbed the nurse's arm, not hard but firm. "Get the doctor. Right now. Or I will go find him myself."
The doctor arrived three minutes later, a man in his fifties with a salt and pepper beard and the weary efficiency of someone who had seen everything. He introduced himself as Dr. Harris, snapped on gloves, and sat on a rolling stool between Fern's legs. He checked her cervix with a quick, practiced motion, then nodded.
"Ten centimeters. Fully effaced. You can push on the next contraction."
Fern wanted to hit him. She wanted to scream that she had been ready to push for an eternity, that her body had been trying to expel this baby for what felt like hours, that his casual permission meant nothing when she had already been fighting her own flesh. But the next contraction was already building, a dark wave rising on the horizon of her consciousness, and she had no energy for anger.
"Push," Dr. Harris said.
She pushed. She gripped the handles on either side of the bed, curled her body around her belly, and bore down with everything she had left. The pressure in her pelvis became a scream caught in her throat. She felt the baby move, a slow descent through the birth canal, and for one wild moment she thought she understood what it felt like to be split open from the inside.
"Good push," the doctor said. "Again. Keep going."
She pushed again, and again, and again. The clock on the wall ticked through two hours of pushing. Two hours of sweat soaking through the hospital gown, of her legs trembling in the stirrups, of Caleb holding one hand and a nurse holding the other. Two hours of Dr. Harris saying "almost there" when she was clearly not almost there, of the baby crowning and retreating, crowning and retreating, like a stubborn animal unwilling to leave its den.
The problem was the head.
"His head is large," Dr. Harris said quietly to the nurse, but Fern heard him. She heard everything through the fog of exhaustion and pain. "Ninety fifth percentile, maybe higher. He's not descending properly because of the angle."
Caleb heard too. His face went pale. "What does that mean? Is the baby okay?"
"The baby is fine. His heart rate is strong." The doctor reached for a small instrument Fern did not recognize, a metal cup on a handle. "But we need to help him along. Fern, I'm going to use a vacuum extractor to assist with the delivery. You will feel pressure, but you need to keep pushing."
She did not have the strength to argue. She nodded, her chin trembling, and when the next contraction came, she pushed with a scream that bounced off the tile walls.
The vacuum cup attached to the baby's scalp with a soft pop. Dr. Harris pulled gently, steadily, in rhythm with her pushes. The burning in her perineum intensified until it was not burning but tearing, a hot rip of flesh that made her vision go white at the edges. She felt the head emerge in increments, a slow and agonizing crowning that took ten full minutes. The doctor worked the chin out, then the nose, then the forehead, each millimeter a fresh torture.
"The head is out," Dr. Harris announced. "One more push for the shoulders."
Fern gathered the last shred of her strength. She bore down with a roar, her face purple, her teeth bared, and felt the rest of the baby slide free in a rush of blood and fluid. The sudden emptiness was shocking, almost more painful than the pressure had been. She collapsed against the mattress, panting, her legs still trembling in the stirrups.
The baby did not cry at first. The silence stretched for three heartbeats, then four, and Fern's exhausted relief curdled into terror. "Why isn't he crying? Caleb, why isn't he crying?"
But then the baby's face screwed up, a tiny furious mask, and he let out a wail that filled the room. It was the most beautiful sound Fern had ever heard, high and indignant and absolutely alive.
A nurse took the baby to a warmer across the room, wiping him down, checking his reflexes. Fern watched through blurred eyes, her body still shaking, her hands reaching for something she could not yet hold. "Is he okay? Is his head okay?"
"He's perfect," Dr. Harris said, and for the first time, his weary face softened into something like a smile. "A big head, but a perfect big baby. Nine pounds, six ounces. Twenty one inches."
Caleb kissed her forehead, her cheek, her lips, his tears falling onto her face. "You did it. You did it, Fern. He's here. He's so beautiful."
The nurses finished their work, stitching the second degree tear with practiced efficiency, cleaning the blood from her thighs, helping her lower her legs from the stirrups. Her muscles screamed in protest, her tailbone aching, her perineum a raw wound. But then they placed the baby on her chest, his skin against hers, his dark hair matted and wet, his little mouth rooting for a breast he had not yet found.
Fern looked down at her son. At the soldier's son. At the honeymoon baby with the too big head and the furious cry. And something shifted in her chest, a door opening that she had not known was closed.
The military hospital was still gray. The linoleum still smelled of bleach. The nurses were still stern, still efficient, still not unkind. But when Nurse Doris brought her a cup of ice chips and a warm blanket, when she adjusted the baby's position with gentle hands and said "you did good, mama," Fern felt something she had not felt since leaving her own mother's house four years ago.
She felt at home.
It was not the home she had imagined, not the cozy cottage of her honeymoon or the quiet apartment she shared with Caleb. It was a different kind of home, one built not of walls and windows but of shared experience, of the silent understanding between women who had pushed life from their bodies in this very room. The nurses had seen her at her worst, had heard her sob and scream and beg, and they had not flinched. They had stayed. They had caught her son.
Caleb pulled a chair to the bedside and sat with his head bowed, one hand on the baby's back, one hand on Fern's. "I love you," he said, his voice raw. "I love you both so much."
Fern looked around the room. At the monitors that had tracked her son's heartbeat. At the stirrups that had held her legs. At the instruments laid out on a steel tray, still smeared with her blood. At the window where morning light was beginning to seep through the blinds, because somehow the sun had risen while she was being unmade and remade.
She pressed her lips to her son's forehead. He smelled of vernix and warmth and the infinite future.
content: fpreg, half-elf/half-orc offspring, hard labor, hard birth, praise
wc: 4145
When Eirian Estainfae had been told of her fate as the bride to feared Orc chieftain, Rhesh Kharr, she sat in shock for several days. At no point in her life had she considered her future husband would be anyone other than an Elf - let alone an Orc.
She had never imagined it would be Rhesh Kharr, even in her wildest dreams.
The night before her wedding to the Orc chieftain, Eirian’s mother came to her chambers, sending the servants away as soon as she entered. Myfiria was nearing her third millennium but still radiated grace and beauty. It was something Eirian always admired about her mother, something she always prayed she acquired from her.
With how she had been feeling lately, she doubted her own grace very much.
“My darling,” Myfiria cooed at her daughter, smoothing her hair away from her face. Eirian couldn’t help but feel tears burn her eyes once she looked up at her mother. “Oh, cry if you must, my dear. But cry here, in my arms, and not again from this night onward.” Her hand tucked a stray hair behind her daughter’s pointed ear, then slowly drew her fingers up under Eirian’s chin - keeping her eyes upwards, “do you hear me? Do not cry in front of them.”
Eirian sobbed, remaining in Myfiria’s arms until the sun rose. By then neither of them had any more tears to shed, simply comfort in silence.
After her mother left, Eirian sat in her bed to wait for her maids to come in to dress her, bare of all clothing, and her long black hair hanging down her back, loose and slightly tangled. She began to lose track of time after that, her chest aching and her mind moving too slow for her body. One moment she was in her childhood bed chambers, and the next she stood in an opulent war tent, listening as her…husband explained…something she hadn’t caught the start of.
“...-thers, they will not bother you either, so you are free to go about the camp as you wish.” Rhesh finished saying, using the common language. His back was turned towards her, and Eirian finally noticed that he had removed his tunic, the broad expanse of his back exposed her eyes.
After a beat, she cleared her throat slightly and stepped towards him, replying in the common tongue as a courtesy in return. “I appreciate that-” Eirian stumbled over her next word, at a loss of what to call him, before the silence grew a second too long, “husband.”
A muscle in his shoulder twitched and she rose her eyes from it before the motion captivated her again, as he turned to stare at her. Rhesh lingered in silence after that, his hard stare pinning her in place, but she didn’t look away. After a moment, Eirian noticed his brow quirk slightly, then his face returned to a blank mask.
“...You look troubled, wife.” Rhesh replied, his eyes roving over her form, not even attempting to hide his lingering gaze. He then turned towards her fully and Eirian felt her cheeks burn.
His cock pressed against the seam of his trousers and took no effort to hide it. Unabashed, he took two steps closer to her, and lifted up a hand to her cheek. His thumb brushed over her skin and Eirian stilled completely - except for her heart beating rapidly against her breast. His hardened, dark grey eyes searched over her face, looking for…something she couldn’t figure out.
“I won’t hurt you,” he finally said, dropping his hand and walking away from her, barely brushing against her as he did so. Rhesh left the tent without another word.
For the following week, he did as he promised. He didn’t hurt her. He spoke to her every day, common things. About how the food was, how comfortable her cot was, if anyone was bothering her. It was charming, and the start of a very tentative romance.
He gave her time, and she felt like she could never repay him for it. His kindness showed through, but only for her. Every interaction she saw Rhesh have with the others in his warband, he was rough and near-cruel and it never stopped making her stomach turn. But then he would sit across from her for dinner and ask her about what she studied.
As the days passed, Eirian began to speak more and more, opening up to her husband. Both emotionally and physically.
Rhesh expressed his worries about their need to please both of their people and the reality of now being split between two nations. She listened, inputting her opinion, the stress of the last few elven councils she had attended.
When Eirian began to speak about her sadness, Rhesh placed a large hand on her thigh, squeezing gently but not pushing beyond that. That was the moment Eirian realized that she began to fall for the massive Orc.
From there, their touches were casual occurrences. She would reach for his arm while walking near him through camp. He would slip a hand around her waist while guiding her through the entrance of their tent. It was innocent, it was gentle.
Surprising both of them, Eirian made the first move. She was in the bath, a tub set up in the middle of their tent while he was out on a patrol. Except Rhesh returned sooner than she expected, leading to him walking in on her, naked, wet, and flushed pink in the hot water. Her eyes caught his, and she swallowed her nerves, beckoning him to join her in the bath.
Rhesh raised a brow, silently asking if she was sure - to which, Eirian gave him a slight smile and nodded.
His armor was removed, something dropped from his body with every step towards the bathtub, but his eyes never left her form. When he stood at the side of the tub, he was fully nude and Eirian couldn’t pull her eyes away from his massive erection. There was no hiding it, and it made her belly twist in excitement at his unabashed nature regarding his attraction to her. Knowing he was turned on by her, and her alone, it made her crave him just the same.
The bath was tight with the two of them in it, but when Rhesh pulled Eirian onto his lap, straddling his hips, did they fit in it more comfortably. Eirian was a blushing mess, but she couldn’t help herself, and grinded her hips down against his throbbing member. His growl was encouraging and, if that wasn’t enough, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her down, his lips finding hers passionately.
Eirian wasn’t a virgin when she met Rhesh but the amount of time it took to adjust to him was far longer than either of them expected. By the time she was comfortable, Rhesh swiftly set a quick pace, bouncing her up and down on his thick cock as she dug her nails into his muscled shoulders. Neither of them were quiet, his grunts and her whines were heard through the camp, but no one would comment on it later.
When Rhesh pounded upwards, pulling her downwards at the same time, he rocked his hips against hers - then Eirian felt the warmth of his cum spill into her belly. She couldn’t help but whine, having sensed her own orgasm quickly approaching but when he stilled to cum in her, Eirian wiggled her hips needily.
He grumbled into a chuckle, releasing her hip and reaching down to her clit, flicking over her sex swollen nub only a few times before she finally orgasmed. Her cunt clenched around his softening member and he groaned in approval, rocking his hips up to urge her orgasm to linger.
From then on, their relationship shifted.
They were friends, and now lovers - the two of them falling into a working marriage as a bridge between their people.
However, the biggest bridge came when Eirian’s belly began to swell outward. Rhesh commented on it first, holding his hands over her lower abdomen and rubbing the slight pouch developing over her middle. As he did so, Eirian had the sudden realization, she had not bled in a while. No one ever confirmed the pregnancy, in fact, the two of them decided to keep their first child between them for as long as possible. A small act of rebellion against those that arranged their marriage without them.
The problem came when Eirian was reminded she was quickly swelling with a half-orc child, and hiding her growing belly was harder as months dragged on. Someone finally caught a glance of Eirian and Rhesh together by a river, the two of them lost in each other, and not realizing a servant now had spread the word of her pregnancy throughout camp. From his war camp, it was quickly spread back to their home countries, and from there - a mess of missives and letters making demands of their unborn child.
Pregnant and worried for her baby, Eirian cried one evening, the first time since the night before her wedding. Her hands were splayed over the expanse of her large middle, their child nearing full term now, at least with a normal Orc pregnancy. Elven pregnancies lasted longer, but considering the weight around Eirian’s hips, she realized this would not be like a normal Elven pregnancy.
Silently, Rhesh came to her side and brushed the tears from her eyes, gently lifting her into his lap. He cradled her and held a hand over her belly, his thumb rubbing over her popped out belly button over her dress. There were no words spoken between the two, just her quiet tears and his silent support.
The conversation about their first born needed to be addressed but for the night, the couple simply found solace in each other. From then on, it quickly became the two of them versus their own people to try and protect their future children.
Eirian’s belly continued to grow, albeit slower than a normal Orc pregnancy, but just as big. Rhesh became concerned as the days drew on, his eyes and hands never straying from her swollen form in one way or another. His worry became palpable, the entire camp felt the pressure under his harsh orders. Everything had to be right, and Eirian had to be protected.
Neither of them said it outloud, but they both knew that the Orc elders and the Elven council would be above subterfuge to identify the babe. Eirian knew that her uncle would pull no punches with this alliance, including swiping her first born if it meant he could manipulate the child of their union.
Rhesh kept his camp in one spot for several weeks, not wanting to be on the road when Eirian began to labor. He wanted his camp set up so their tent was deep in the middle, making sure his men and personal guard were between them and those that posed a threat to his wife and unborn child. It made his men nervous but he was quickly becoming steadfast in his care, ignoring their comments of disapproval.
After a long day, Rhesh finally came back to their tent. He had been out on a patrol, and after being waylaid by a group of river bandits, finally able to come back to Eirian’s side. She sat draped over their plush chair, specifically bought for her by her husband quickly after her pregnancy showed itself. Her legs were stretched out in front of her, her head tossed back over the chair, her dark hair messily thrown over one of the arms. Eirian rubbed her distended abdomen with both hands, a focused look upon her features.
Her eyes fluttered open and she gave him a lingering look, one that told him everything he needed to know.
“Our babe is ready?” Rhesh asked her, coming to her side immediately. He knelt beside the chair and took her small hand into his larger one. “Are you well, Eiri?”
Eirian released a long breath, continuously rubbing her stomach with her left hand. Rhesh squeezed her right, bringing it to his lips to gently press a kiss in her palm. She gave him a reassuring smile, “labor is taking a toll on me, I fear.” Her body tensed and she squeezed his hand tightly, attempting to control her breathing as she continued to speak through the pain, “it’s been…all day, I hadn’t expected…you…to be gone so long.”
The Orc held her hand, shaking his head, “I hadn’t either, forgive me. Do I-” he paused for a moment, letting her ride out the pain before continuing, “shall I get someone?”
“No, no, please no.” Eirian shook her head, teary eyes boring up at him. “Do not leave me again. I just want us.”
Rhesh nodded, brushing away hair that stuck to her sweaty forehead. She pressed her head into his hand, giving him a tired smile.
“The little one sits low, I think it’s almost time.” Eirian said, grunting and shifting in her seat. Her thighs were sitting wide apart, her massive belly jutted upward, the pressure on her hips intense and unable to be ignored. She groaned and tossed her head back, belly tensing as a contraction took over her again.
“Fuck!!” She cried, the pain lingering for longer than before. Wiggling her hips slightly, she gestured for him to help lift her dress up. Rhesh complied quickly, shoving the fabric up her legs and pushed it over her hips and massive belly. Her taut skin was splattered with stretch marks, the soft pink flesh between her legs was darker, and swollen. Eirian spread her legs apart farther, gasping in slight relief as she was able to shift into an open position, the head of their babe sitting deep in her body. Rhesh grabbed on her legs and placed her foot on his shoulder, allowing her to push against it as she needed.
Eirian gave him a grateful look, not pausing her focus as she felt another pain take over her lithe frame. On his shoulder, her foot trembled, her strength pressing against his and it was no match, even as she labored.
“Breathe, Eiri,” Rhesh murmured, reaching up and caressing her thigh, “listen to your body.”
She made a noise of acknowledgement, a soft huff as she tugged the dress she wore up and over the rest of her body. Fully nude now, Eirian tossed her head forward and looked at her husband, whispering her discomfort, “...there’s so much…pressure…”
Rhesh nodded, sensing the strain on her body as she heaved heavy breaths, thighs now fully spread open to reveal her slit to him. Her foot on his shoulder dug into him, Eirian grunting as the pressure shifted even lower into her core, the weight of it causing her to rock her hips forward slightly and groan out, “fuck..fucking…pressure!”
“Keep breathing,” he reminded her. In response, she gasped out a deep breath, eyes screwed shut in pain. “Good, good, again.”
Eirian continued to follow his instruction, even as a few minutes passed and several pains came and went. Her body began to arch with each pain, the tightness of her muscles around her middle making the movement nearly impossible to avoid. The foot not on Rhesh’s shoulder now draped over the arm of the chair, fully apart enough for her body to finally give her the urge to push with her next pain. The pressure between her thighs was too much to ignore and Eirian finally gave a grunt and pushed, her body wound tight and tense as her body began to strain.
“Good push, Eiri,” Rhesh cooed up at her, reaching up to rub her other thigh, his fingers trailing over to her swollen womanhood, feeling every tremble in her muscles along the trail. “Good girl, good push.”
In the chair, Eirian groaned and pushed with her body, the pains now never letting up and the child sitting so deep in her core that she felt if she moved forward it would push the child back into her womb. “Nughhhh…” She moaned, pushing down hard. “Ah!”
For several long minutes, Eirian continued to push, making little progress, but still progressing. Rhesh watched her pussy turn a darker red and began to bulge outward. But as the next half an hour passed, that was the most progress she was able to make. His fingers rubbed the bulging folds softly, urging her to push as the next pain came and went and again very little progress was made.
“It’s…it’s too big…fuck…” Eirian breathed, releasing her push with a whine.
She brought up a very valid concern Rhesh had remained silent about for most of her pregnancy. The genuine fear of her body not able to deliver his child, their different sizes painfully clear to notice. If she wasn’t able to do this, if his child was too big and this hurt her…killed her?
Before he could consider his word to express his worry, Eirian began to push again, her body naturally trying to urge the massive child from her womanhood.
She groaned and it quickly turned into a shout, crying out as she strained and pushed. Her pussy bulged out even more, and Rhesh cupped her lips, the head poking out just a sliver before sliding back in when she relaxed her body.
After her mind was able to register his words, Eirian was able to release a breathy laugh, and immediately moaned as another pain began to build. In his hand, her folds pushed against his palm, the skin parting as the head was brought to just visible. This time remaining closer to her opening, the sliver of the head just in sight now and staying there.
The babe came down into a wide, wide crown, very slowly. Eirian whimpered and cried out with every push and urging down her body strained to do, fluid dripping out of her swollen folds with each time. The foot on his shoulder, lifted off, her hand coming up to grip the back of her thigh and lift it up and apart from the other. As her cries and grunts elevated in volume, Rhesh rubbed her skin as gently as he could to ease the pain but it didn’t matter, her pussy was burning.
Eirian’s pushes lasted longer, and as the next pain began, she began to push down just barely and the head finally lurched free from her tight womanhood in a messy gush of her fluid. In surprise she cried out and reached a hand down over Rhesh’s, the both of them holding their baby’s head. Tears fell over her cheeks as she felt around the head and felt for the cord, remembering that small part of childbirth in the back of her head from her mother. No cord was present and she felt her body relax slightly, some of the worry and paranoia leaving her as she went through the action.
The rest should be easier. At least, Eirian prayed the rest of it would be easier.
With how far the babe had spread her entrance open, she knew the shoulders would be an issue if she couldn’t get them out with the help of her body. Waiting for the next pain, she felt the little one in her jolt, the sensation making her hips buck as she jutted them into both Rhesh and her hand. The babe nestled at her entrance even more at the action.
Between her legs, Rhesh smiled up at her with awe, the sight of his small, perfect, Elven wife in the middle of birth was just something he would cherish forever. She grunted and groaned and sweated and cried, but to him, right now - she was perfect.
Eirian looked at him with watery eyes and gave him the smallest smile she could, the pain making it the only thing she could focus on in the moment, but she still cherished him and his care.
Their baby, however, seemed more than a little eager, now that the head had been introduced to the world.
“Ah - oh, fuck!” Eirian cried, grunting and pushing down as she felt the baby shift in her body again, the shoulders rubbing against her entrance. Her noises got louder as she strained and bore down with all of her might. Her husband offered soft cheers of encouragement but she was far too lost in her own world.
As the more pushes she did, Eirian’s strength began to fade quickly. Her last push was almost half-hearted, the grunts turning into whines again, the pain and the pressure making everything that wasn’t the baby - hard to focus on.
Rhesh tried to ground her, and her body continued its natural urges to push, but Eirian sobbed and shook her head. “I c- I can’t…” She whimpered, eyes wide and directed at her husband, the look of fear crossing her features made him wish he could take this from her. “Rhesh,” she begged, “please…don’t make me…”
“You must.” Rhesh returned firmly, the hand next to hers near the babe’s head brushed their fingers together, just slightly in comfort. “You know you must, Eirian. The babe is almost here, feel…”
He guided her hand to fully cup the head of their child, it barely fit in the palm of her hand, the head huge and impossibly wide. Her breath caught in her throat, realizing that they were so close to meeting their child and that she had already pushed out something so massive. Their eyes met and she continued to cry, but nodded barely, once.
Grinning, he nodded back at her, pride bursting from his chest as she readied herself to push again. Eirian’s hand still rested on the baby’s head, supporting it as she leaned her body forward towards the edge of the chair to push with as much of her might she could still muster.
The first one was painful, Eirian screaming as she pushed. The only payoff being a slight gush of amniotic fluid dribbling around the head, spilling out of her straining womanhood, and around their fingers. As she took a breath and began to push again, her entire body shifted. Several things happened at once. Her body lurched as far forward in the chair it could, her knees coming up as close to her shoulders as she could bring them, and then one of the baby’s shoulders slipped free.
Rhesh cheered, urging her to push one last time, their child almost free of her body.
Eirian didn’t hear him, her entire focus now on her final push. Her cries went silent, her mouth just open and eyes screwed shut. Her pussy was pink, pulled tight around the huge half-orc baby that hung out of her. The weight of it put more pressure around her entrance as it pulled downward into Rhesh’s other hand. With her own hand, she felt the shoulder that popped out, and reached down to wrap her fingers under it’s armpit. As she began to lose steam at the end of her push, Eirian kept going, her hand now helping her as she pulled and pushed the huge child out of her.
A splatter of fluid gushed out of her as the babe came out, and Rhesh helped keep the child in their arms in the mess, guiding the child to rest on Eirian’s chest.
Instinctively, she rubbed the child’s back - a girl, Rhesh said - and cooed, tears spilling over her cheeks as she stared at the little one in her arms.
The cry that errupted from their daughter’s lungs was shrill and it made both of them laugh in relief and pride. Rhesh came up closer to the two of them now, rubbing the head of their little girl.
“She’s loud and looks healthy,” Rhesh mumbled without attempting to hide his proud tone, “mama did a wonderful job.”
Eirian still cried, but sniffed, unable to take her eyes off the babe, her fingers trailing over her daughter’s features. Every part of the girl was perfect to her already, the pale green skin, the wide doe-eyes, and the obvious Elven ears. A beautiful combination of both parents. She would be beautiful and strong.
A sudden stake of fear pierced her heart, coming back to the reality that their first born was a girl. Both of their people needed a male heir to secure the alliance for the foreseeable future, meaning she would have to go through this again. At least twice.
Eirian swallowed, glancing back down at her perfect daughter, Rhesh’s hands caressing both her and the child lovingly. The worry of the future still nagged at her but she smiled, reaching out to cup his cheek - fully intent on cherishing this moment as long as she could.
I lay him down on his side in the nest of towels while he wails, laboring hard on his first litter. My own litter is straining to be born, and I’m sure I’m about to start pushing.
“Lift your leg, baby,” I tell him.
He just moans.
“You need to start pushing,” I say.
“I can’t,” he whimpers. “I don’t know if I can whelp. I can’t, I can’t…oh…oh! Oh god!” He curls around his taut belly and whines as his body forces him to push.
I sit down at his ass and lift his leg myself, and prop the crook of his knee across my own knee. I pull his tucked tail from between his slick thighs and reveal his throbbing cunt. Then I spread my other knee wide to open my pelvis. I’m ready. He’s ready.
His body heaves on its first-ever pup. “Ow, ow, owwww, it hurts! Is it coming out?”
Of course it isn’t. I rub his hip. “Not yet, baby. You’re going to have to work harder than that. Push.”
His tail stands to attention as he puts in the work of a long, hard push, his eyes squeezed closed.
“Good boy,” I say. “That’s a good boy. You’re a natural.”
His contraction must end, because he stops pushing and starts panting. “Are, are you pushing?” he asks.
“Not yet.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Every time.”
“I think I need to push…I, I need to push! Oh! Ohhhhh!”
His pussy begins to bulge, but his slit is still closed. When he lets up the pressure, the bulge recedes. He cranes his neck to try to see between his legs.
“It’s stuck! It’s not coming out!”
“It’s coming,” I say. “You’re making prog—“ I gasp as my first pup begins to squeeze through my cervix. “Oh!”
“Are you whelping?” he asks.
It hurts too badly for me to answer, other than to tuck in my chin and push.
“You’re pushing! You’re—ohhhh.” And he lays back down as a contraction takes over his body and he has to push. His cunt bulges out, and when he lets up, it only recedes partway.
With my first full push, my pup fills my birth canal and my pussy bulges.
“Can I watch you whelp?” he asks, his eyes large and curious.
I nod and shift onto my hands and knees in the blanket nest, my cunt facing him. In the new position I have to lift my tail high as the next contraction barrels through me. I moan and push. The burn begins.
“Oh, oh! Ohhhhhh!” I moan.
I can hear the eagerness in his voice. “You’re crowning! Oh my god, you’re crowning!”
The stretch continues—wider, wider. I stop pushing but keep a steady pressure on the pup while I pant. He whimpers, and I look over my shoulder to see him propped up on his elbows, his back against the edge of the towel nest, his knees spread wide and his eyes squeezed shut while he pushes. His slit begins to open.
“Good boy,” I gasp between pants. “Open your eyes, baby. I’m about to whelp.”
He opens his glassy eyes, agony written all over his face. I feel the head sliding out. I dip my hips low and give a heave and whelp my first pup onto the towels between his feet.
“You whelped,” he whispers. “I don’t know if I can do this…”
I turn around, my body quivering with effort, and hold out my hand. He grips it with a strength I did not know he possessed, and pushes.
His pussy bulges fully out and his slit opens. He lays his head back against the nest and howls. His firstborn pup begins to crown, his first crowning of many—both tonight and over the course of his budding life as a breeding wolf. His belly strains and his legs begin to shake.
I squeeze his hand. “Push, baby. I know it hurts, I know, he put some big pups in you.”
The pup parts his lips wider and wider until his pussy is stretched tight in a perfect O. It stays that way for a moment…several moments…his howls of pain continue. Then suddenly the head pops free and he curls over his belly. His howl fades to rough panting.
I squeeze his hand. “Good boy, the head is out.”
“It hurts,” he whimpers. “I don’t know if I can do it.”
“One more push,” I say. “You’re about to whelp.”
“My first pup…” he says. “Help me?”
I shake my head. “You should whelp your first pup on your own.”
He changes tactics. “Hold me?”
I move to sit down beside him, but halfway there I feel an urge and I pause to push. “Ow…ow, ow, ow!”
“You’re pushing?” he says. “Push! Push!”
“Oh baby,” I moan, to him and to the pup pulling me apart. “It hurts, it hurts!”
His eyes are fixed under my belly, between my legs. “It’s coming out—it’s coming! Push!”
“Ohhhhhhhhh,” I groan. “I’m crowning! Fuck!” The head bursts out of me and I exhale. “Fuck…”
I maneuver carefully, mindful of the head of my pup dangling from my hole, and sit down beside him in the nest. I put my arm around his shoulder. He leans into me and holds my other hand.
“I think I have to push,” he says. His voice is tight with anxiety.
“Don’t fight it,” I say. “Let’s whelp together.”
He nods, his eyes fixed on the top of his belly.
“Ready? Push.”
Both our bellies heave as we bear down, arms twined together. Three seconds of strained moans…five…ten. He gasps.
I hear his pup squelch out of him, followed by a rush of fluids. At the same moment my own pup drops out of me into the waiting towels. He clings to me, quivering.
“Oh my god. I whelped. I whelped! It came out!”
He sits up to look at his firstborn pup, but a moment later he’s back in my arms, pushing on his second. I’m pushing too; our laboring moans mingle together.
A few hours later our alpha finds us asleep in the nest, curled up around a double litter of pups. It’s hard to say whose is whose—but no matter. They’re half-siblings anyway.
421.1. A request: The Queen of a nation is about to give birth to the next heir to the throne. Naturally such an event can’t take place in her private chambers, instead she must give birth in a public space, for the court and commoners to see. Bonus points if she has to be restrained in some way.
A Crown for a Queen
A Valiantremnant original
Pre-Story notes: Oh did this prompt ever inspire me. I initially planned on doing a fun little short story, but as I went, I wound up expanding and expanding (lol) until I got to where the story is now. I might do more with this world, but who knows. Now, quick note, due to the nature of this story, it's not very dialogue heavy. I tried to break it up as best as I could, but if I put a ton of dialogue in it, the main character would mostly be talking to herself, and given the setup here, (some dehydration) that isn't really a good idea.
In Konur, tradition insisted on a public birth of every royal child. Every. One. It had started over one thousand years ago when a changeling had sought to overthrow the royal line by replacing a newborn heir. Or by supplanting the queen. The exact reasons have been lost to history. But to prevent such a thing from happening with his children, King Okdar had his wife, Queen Anya, give birth where all could see, and all could vow that the child was indeed born to them. The method passed on to their children, and their children. A proof becoming tradition, the site of Queen Anya's labors becoming a great amphitheater. And from then on, every queen, and every princess in line to become queen would give birth in the same place, bound and visible for all. For all to see that the child born was indeed born of the queen, and for all to see the strength of their queens, to see that they had the strength to be the shield of the people of Konur. When Queen Valaina's water had broken that morning, word had immediately gone out, alerting the nobles and visiting dignitaries who had travelled weeks ago for the royal birth. Valaina had married into the royal family, and while she knew of the birthing ritual, she had never seen it before, much less thought that she would be given the honor of going through it herself. The noble houses had similar traditions, but those were usually attended by close friends and family only, nothing like the affair of a royal birth. Once the word had gone out, the royal midwife had arrived, examining Valaina and letting her know that she was only about halfway dilated, and that there would be plenty of time to arrive at the amphitheater. Valaina knew that she should have gone to see it before today, but since the tragic death of her husband, King Helbrun, she had been too busy tending the affairs of state. But now as she entered the vaulted Queen's Entrance of the amphitheater, she wished she had visited at least once. She passed carved statues, each one of a woman. As she had contractions passing them, she paid them little mind, but the odd detail struck out at her as she passed. Some were carved in obsidian, most were done in marble. Some glittered with gemstones, others were plain. Some had objects in their hands, others were empty handed. "Oh gods! Ow!" She groaned, stopping by one of the statues and gripping the edge of the alcove that held it. The contraction that held her now was fierce and made her legs shake with the effort of her womb. "Come Valaina," Marne, Helbrun's aunt called, "You can't well give birth in here, can you?"
Marne was a stuff sort of woman, with very strict ideas of propriety. Ever since the deaths of Helbrun, and both of his parents, she had been appointed by the court to be Valaina's guide into the politics and traditions of the royal family. Politics that she thought she knew from her own family's proximity to the crown, but much of it was new and strange to her. Valaina's own family, the Karroks, had been mired in political scandal shortly after her own wedding to Helbrun, and since his death, Valaina could tell that she was something of a controversial figure. Commoners and nobility alike were torn on whether to side with her or against her. A civil war seemed unlikely, but political difficulty was the norm for her these days. "If... I...GAH! Have to..." Valaina panted. "Tsk tsk," None of that, come on," Marne said, coming to her side and helping her upright, making Valaina gasp in pain as she straightened. She leaned heavily on Marne was they walked to a small chamber at the end of a series of empty alcoves that awaited statues. "Now, that's fine in here, but once you go out there, you'll have to walk alone." "Alone? What?" Marne shook her head, "I suppose with everything else going on, you haven't managed to learn about this ritual, have you?" Valaina shook her head and Marne explained. "You are carrying the heir apparent to the throne, and the birth must be witnessed. You'll be stripped in here and then you'll ascend the plinth and give birth for all to see."
Giving birth for others to see wasn't unusual. She could remember the births of a few family friends, but those affairs had allowed the mothers to wear at the very least a shift to cover themselves. "What do you mean, 'stripped'?" Valaina asked, her voice rising an octave both in fear and in pain, "OW...." "Exactly what it sounds like," Marne said, positioning Valaina in front of the doors, "Now let me help you." Valaina sobbed quietly as Marne removed her robes until she was clad only in her light shift. Marne came around front and wiped the tears out of her eyes. "Now, listen. What I can tell you while we have time is this. As queen, you are the shield of the people, and they must see you endure. You can scream, you can roar, you can cry, but don't beg. Don't ask to be released until you've given birth." "What- released?" "And- you don't know?" Before Valaina could respond, she doubled over with another powerful contraction. They were practically back to back now, and she had almost no time to reset between them. A serving girl entered through a hidden door and murmured something to Marne, who nodded in return and moved to stand behind Valaina. "We're out of time. They're ready for you. Remember, if you are to remain queen after this is over, you must be the shield of the people. Do not beg." Marne lifted the shift off of Valaina, who made one pathetic attempt to hold onto it before letting it go. Marne looked her in the eye one last time. "When I've left, knock twice on the door and walk to the center of the amphitheater. They'll guide you from there." And with that, the only one left in the chamber was Valaina, scared, contracting and in pain. She knocked twice on the door after the contraction was gone, and the double doors swung outward, nearly blinding her with the sudden light.
When she could see again, the first thing she could see was a ramp leading up from the chamber she was in. As she hobbled up the ramp, having to stop for a moment to let a slightly more powerful contraction pass, she could hear what sounded like thousands of voices. With her heart in her throat, Valaina reached the top of the ramp to see the massive amphitheater filled to capacity. It was late summer, and the bright sun beat down into the stone arena with an almost angry heat. Ahead of her, Valaina could see a raised object. A marble podium of sorts. It might have once been pure white, but age and the elements had stained it. As she grew closer to it, almost drawn in by morbid curiosity, Valaina could tell that a long, streaking stain down the front had nothing to do with the weather marring it. "... Queen Valaina of house Dar!" Valaina couldn't tell what the beginning of the announcement was, but the crowd erupted into a deafening array of both cheering and jeering. Her mostly steady waddling hitched as she had another contraction, and she gasped in pain as she struggled to keep moving forward. She held one arm across her chest, hiding her bare breasts from the eyes of the crowd, the other wrapped around her belly, trying to hide her vagina, knowing now why a midwife had attended to her, waxing her clean before arriving at the amphitheater. The same midwife stood at the base of the stone monolith, which had grown startlingly near. Valaina stopped and the midwife leaned in. "How close are your contractions now?" "They barely give me time to breathe between them," Valaina admitted. The midwife nodded and gestured to a pair of ceremonial guards. They both took one of her arms and guided her to the stone's flat top. Once there, they pushed her down firmly, though not roughly. The action made her heart beat so quickly, it seemed almost painful. "Wait, what are-AUGH!"
As she broke off to deal with the contraction, the guards attached sturdy leather cuffs to her ankles, keeping them close together. Then they pushed her thighs back until the angle was almost painful, attaching thick straps to them as well, pinning her legs fast in place. Then a strap was fixed around her ribs, above her belly but below her breasts, not too tight to breathe in, but too tight to move more than an inch or so. Then, to top it all off, her wrists were strapped above her head. "Grab these," One of the guards said, guiding her hands to wooden handles fixed into the straps. Valaina didn't understand at first, but as soon as the guards stepped away, no longer supporting any of her weight, she understood. The stone was flat, but not level. It wasn't enough of a slope to be a slide, but without support, she would have been hard pressed to remain in place. As it was, the straps began to dig painfully into her chest and thighs until she flexed her arms, supporting her weight by the hand holds provided. As she struggled to find a comfortable place on the stone, she could feel slight wear in it's surface. Grooves dug into the surface, too slight to be see from a distance, but when touching it? She could feel where someone else's, another woman's shoulders had been bound here, where her feet had been braced, where her hips had sat. She had heard about parts of this birthing ritual. but until now, it hadn't seemed real.
As she struggled to move more than an inch, the midwife ascended and stood before her. "My queen. I will perform your last check." Before Valaina could respond to her words, she flinched and groaned as the old woman's hand deftly entered her birth canal. She tried to close her legs against the straps, her hips flexing and quivering as they fought against the unyielding bonds as the midwife reached her cervix and traced it. Nodding, she pulled her hand out and turned to the speaker, descending from the platform. The speaker nodded and turned to the audience of nobles and commoners alike. "The queen is now five centimeters dilated!" The crowd erupted in both cheers and groans. Valaina wondered what they were thinking. Were the cheers because she was well and truly in labor? Were the groans because she had so far left to go? She didn't know, and any thought of figuring it out vanished as she had another contraction. "AUGH! OW OW OWowowowowowOWWWWWWWWW!" Her head, the only free part of her body, thrashed, snapping from side to side, her hair fanning out and covering her face somewhat. She wanted to curl around her belly, to hold it with her hands, despite how little she knew it would do. But even though she knew it was pointless, her arms pulled against the bindings, straining to caress her contracting belly. She groaned and gasped in pain as a new sensation struck her. Not the pressure she knew was to come, but a deep stabbing ache in her pelvis, as if the stone itself were pressing against her. When the contraction was done, she puffed and blew her hair out of her face. The sun, still beating down made being trapped under a tent of her own hair stifling.
As Valaina laid back on the stone, her eyes wandered the crowd. The back, the highest seats in the amphitheater were filled with people who she took to be commoners, though at the distance they were at, it made it hard to tell. Closer in, she could see merchants knights. People of wealth and status. But closer still, in the valley between her legs she could see nobles. Lords and ladies alike, along with their honored guests. Valaina's eyes darted, with focus at first, then worry, then frenzied panic. Her mother. Her father. Where were they? House Karrok wasn't a small house, and given their seats at court, they should have been near the front. but right at the front was the prime minister, a man who Valaina despised. Even though she knew it was someone else, she couldn't help but feel that even if he hadn't been the one to orchestrate the deaths of her husband and the former king and queen, that he still stood to benefit. The only other potential heir to the throne was only a child, and if she had also died that day, he would now be ruling Konur. Her stomach roiled in discomfort from something other than a contraction. She knew she couldn't trust the man, even if he hadn't done anything wrong. Except... except that her parents should have been there. "Where... are... they?" Valaina whispered, making eye contact with the man before she broke into another full throated scream as another contraction wracked her body, "HUUUUUAAAAAAAAAGH!" The prime minister only tilted his head, his eyes flicking to a point behind her, and Valaina knew. He had ensured that her parents were sat behind her, and far away from the center. Nowhere they could be of even minimal comfort to her.
As the day drew on, comfort became a thing of the distant past. The sun rose, and with it, the temperature. What had started out as a warm morning was quickly becoming a hot midsummer day. "Oh gods..." Valaina said, her tongue feeling thick and dry in her mouth as she lolled her head to the side, seeking a tiny bit of respite from the blazing sun. If she looked down at herself, she could only see her breasts, the top of her belly and the tops of her thighs, but what she could see of herself was that her skin was turning red under the sun. She had spent most of her life sheltered, hiding her fair skin from the sun's rays, but she remembered one day as a younger woman, when her family had gone to the king's summer palace with him and she had spent too long in the sun, and what her skin had felt like then. It felt the same now, tight, hot and far too dry. Her lips cracked as she grimaced, bracing herself as best as she could for the next contraction. "AAAAUUUUUGH! OH GODS! OWWWWW!" She could see the crowd reacting to her as she writhed the few fractions of an inch that she could, some cheering as she screamed, others looking on coldly. She shifted uncomfortably, the strap around her chest digging painfully into the top of her belly. Valaina just could not find a remotely comfortable position, her spine pressed hard against the marble plinth, her hips aching from being pulled back so far, and her hands were growing numb from being suspended above her head for so long. But the worst part was the pressure that would surge every time she had a contraction. It seemed like every time she had one, and she would try to arch her back against it, it was trying to press her flat against the plinth, taking her breath with a sudden, savage strength. And it made her want to push.
She knew that it wasn't time yet. She'd never learned from a midwife properly, but she had been curious and helped when her aunt had given birth when she was nine, and remembered a few lessons. "Now, she will feel pressure and like she wants to push for quite some time, but it will pass with each contraction," The midwife had said, "That will usually mean that she isn't open enough for the baby to come." "But if it's hurting her, shouldn't she push it out?" "Oh dear, no. If she pushes too soon, it will hurt her even more, and maybe even hurt the baby. She must wait until all that pressure stays, even between the pains." On the plinth, Valaina could feel the pressure from each contraction fading away between them, and she knew it wasn't time. She squinted her eyes and looked up at the sun. It must be close to noon now. Based on the bells that had tolled just before she entered the amphitheater, she had been strapped down to the stone for nearly six hours now. What did the midwife say she was dilated? Five centimeters? How dilated was she now? "Am-" Valaina began before breaking off into a fit of dry coughing, "Am I close?" "We cannot touch you until the baby is out," The midwife said from the base of the podium, "But I would say it isn't long to go."
An hour passed. And another. And another. Valaina's skin was an angry red and her mouth was parched. The contractions were starting to slow down, and she could barely keep her eyes open anymore. "Huuuuuuuuuunnnnngggg," She groaned, the full throated screams of agony now too much effort to give voice to anymore. The crowd's mood had shifted too. Mostly everyone who was still present was talking to each other, the dull roar of conversation from around the amphitheater competing with the thudding of her heartbeat in her ears. If she had known how thirsty she would have gotten, she would have spent hours doing nothing but drinking water leading up to the ritual. "Gods, so thirsty," She panted, her tongue feeling sandy as it passed over her teeth, trying to sooth her cracked lips. Her lips were sunburned too, and moving her moth more than it took to pant caused tearing sensations that made her want to cry. She knew that if there was enough water in her body, she might have cried, not just from the sheer misery of what she was going through, but what she knew was to come. If the lips on her mouth felt this bad now with the dryness and sunburn, what would her other lips feel like when she was pushing?
The sun was starting to set when Valaina heard it. Something that always had soothed her, not matter how fiercely they would rage. And she opened her eyes to see if she had imagined the sound, or if it was real. She smiled, her lips cracking as she saw it. There it was, the billowing clouds that had produced the quiet peal of thunder in the distance. At least it would mean that she would be taken down from the plinth. While she loved a thunderstorm, she knew it was too dangerous to be out in one. But as it grew closer and the air grew mercifully cooler, no one moved to remove her restraints. What she did see were amphitheater attendants running around the stands, pulling on ropes and setting posts, erecting awnings and canvas shades to protect everyone who was watching. And she knew. She knew that the only way to get off of the plinth would be to give birth. Another clap of thunder sounded, louder this time, and Valaina didn't find any comfort in it.
The rain began about an hour after the first clap of thunder, fat drops that came in scattered bursts. Despite the stinging pains they caused Valaina's burned skin, she found relief in the chill they brought to her overheated body. And in the drops she opened her mouth to catch. She panted with her mouth open now, feeling drops fall and run into the corners of her mouth, swallowing the cool, crisp rain as it filled her mouth over and over again. She could feel water sloshing in her stomach, and groaned as her contractions, which began speeding back up as she drank, tightened her newly full belly. Now as she looked down at herself, her belly was still an angry red, but now it glistened with a wet sheen as water ran down the taut surface as it heaved and quivered with contractions. Contractions that brought the pressure back again and again, with it fading less and less each time.
"AAAAAAUUUUGH!" She screamed as another contraction clawed at her belly. She didn't know if anyone heard, as a massive peal of thunder echoed across the arena as she screamed. She wanted to move. She felt the pressure digging into her back, right where it met her pelvis, and knew that if she could just get up, even for a moment, she would give birth in minutes. Valaina wanted to ask. She was so close to asking to be let up, but she knew that as soon as she did, the crown was forfeit. Marne told her not to beg, and she wouldn't. She had to be strong. But no matter how strong she was, the contractions seemed to be stronger. Once she had been able to drink the rainwater that now ran into her eyes, and mouth when she didn't want it to, her contractions had gotten closer together than they had ever been. But that wasn't the worst of it. As the rain ran down her back, the smooth worn surface of the plinth had become so slick, she was struggling to stay in place. In the morning, her skin had stuck to it, her own weight being enough to hold her steady, but with the rain, she would slide down, the straps biting into her thighs, chest and wrists being the only things keeping her there. Her wrists cramped with how hard she held onto the handles on the wrist cuffs, but letting them go was a nightmare. She would only about an inch, but it was far enough that trying to find the handles was a nearly impossible task. And it only took a single contraction to learn that loosing her only anchor point, her only control over any of the situation was not something she could endure.
So she clung to the wooden dowels, despite the blisters forming on her hands, despite the contractions that made her want to release them and clutch at her belly, something that she couldn't do. "NooooooUUUUAAAAAAARRRRGH!" She screamed as another contraction tried to rip her apart and crush her all at once. The pressure kept vanishing, not staying like it was supposed to. She wanted to give in, to push with it, but she couldn't make herself. She couldn't force herself to push when a part of her knew it was too soon. It would hurt her. It would hurt the baby. So she panted, wanting desperately to writhe, and tried to lift her hips off of the stone, even a fraction of an inch. The strain onher muscles was making every part of her shake with effort and exhaustion, so she released the attempt, feeling her body slam the mere half inch back into place, jolting her and making her cry out again. But even that couldn't stop her from straining again and again against the restraints, trying to give herself a little bit more room. Just a little bit more...
She didn't know how many times, though how many contractions she strained and arched her body, doing everything she could from mantras to panting, from visualizing to just sheer force of will, everything she could think of doing to stop herself from pushing. But she was loosing. More than once, she caught herself giving in, tiny little pushes that made her belly swell and rise with the effort. She could barely hear anything over the patter of rain, but she could faintly hear excited murmuring in the prominent seating close to the plinth. Nobles and courtiers realizing how close she was to giving birth. If they only knew that she wasn't ready yet. "Make it stop," She begged, looking up at the sky, "Gods, make the pressure stop or let it come out!" There wasn't so much as a clap of thunder in response, only another brutal contraction that made her arch her body again. "AAAAAAAUUUUUGH!"
Eventually, she could hold back no longer. She didn't care that the pressure wasn't remaining, and some part of her didn't care how badly it could hurt her or the baby, her body had gone through enough. She had to push. When the next contraction came, she didn't arch away from it, she curled forward the tiny amount she was able to, and bore down. "HUUUUUNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGAAAAAAARRRRGH!" She bellowed out, the sound being swallowed by both the thunder of the storm and the thunder of the crowd as they all realized at once that she was fully pushing now. And she noticed something else too. Instead of fading away again, the pressure seemed to grow more intense, dropping below the spike of agony in her back and dropping between her hips, making her feel like she was sitting on a saddle. She squirmed, her body slipping on the wet marble as she tried to make the sensation more bearable, and whimpering in frustration as she found she couldn't. But the pressure wasn't fading anymore. Now she could push. She could push! "HuuuuUUUUNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAHHHH!" She screamed as she pushed with the next contraction. Her effort cut off abruptly as a sharp sting made her flinch. It had felt like a pebble had been hurled at her left breast with great speed. She looked and didn't see anything except for a small welt that grew red, even against the burn from the sun. Then she felt another sting, this one on her belly. And another on her arm. It wasn't until one hit her head that she realized. Hailstones. Small ones, only about the size of peas. More than enough to be unbearable.
"OWWWWWWWwwowowowowowowowWOWWWWWWWW HUUUAAAAAAAAGH! OH GODS!" She screamed as she pushed. The hail didn't show any signs of stopping, but at least the stones weren't growing larger as they sometimes did. She had partially expected to be released once the hail had started, but as with the rain, she was left exposed to the elements, rain and hail descending while thunder ripped the sky apart. Much like how the head in her was descending, contractions ripping her apart. One had hit quite near her eye, and she kept both of them shut now, her eyelids turning red with each bolt of lightning that shredded the sky, thunder bellowing in their wake. Between contraction, she shuddered with cold and pain as thousands of tine hailstone pelted her body. Shen she dared to open her eyes to squint at herself, she was covered in tiny welts that ranged from red to purple where she could see, her sunburned skin feeling like it was on fire, and still she pushed. She knew that as soon as the baby was out, she would be taken down, and ushered inside and away from the onslaught. bracing herself, she panted once, twice, and got ready to push once again. "HUUUU-AAAAAAAH!"
Once she was pushing, she thought it wouldn't take long for the baby to come out, but it seemed to crawl along at a leisurely pace down, every tiny movement sending zings of pain through her birth canal as it stretched around the baby. But those were nothing in comparison to the stretching she had feared. The head of the baby eventually made it down far enough that she could feel her lips parting around it. And as she feared, the sunburn that had seared every inch of her exposed to the sun felt a hundred times worse as the burned skin of her vagina began to stretch and spread around the head. It was agony, the legendary ring of fire taking on a whole new meaning as Valaina sobbed through the pain, trying to push hard enough to get the head out. But every time she stopped while waiting for the next contraction, the head began moving back in, hiding away from the chaos and noise of the world. "The... the head! Hail...' She panted, and the midwife called up, making her voice heard over the sounds of the storm. "When the head is out, I will shield it from the hail. Just get the baby out to us." Valaina nodded, her eyes still squeezed shut and she braced herself for another push, panting as she felt the contraction building. "OooooooOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAGH-"
Her efforts cut off and her head fell back as a shock of pain exploded in her calf. Her eyes snapped open and she screamed, her thigh spasming and she writhed, feeling the white hot feeling cut through her concentration. Over her own screaming, she was dimly aware of screams in the crowd, and she knew something was wrong. Time seemed to slow down as she watched a projectile dart across her belly, the head scoring a thin line over her as a crossbow bolt pinged off of the marble, leaving a small chip in the surface and bouncing off, missing her by millimeters. "SEIZE THEM!" A voice commanded, and Valaina tried to turn to look, seeing one of the assailants, crossbow in hand being cut down by men with swords, his weapon clattering the ground, along with several bolts. She heard the snapping twang of another crossbow, and heard someone shout in pain before another scream and clatter told her that another had just been cut down as well. She strained her neck, trying to look down, but the hail bouncing down on her and something new told her what she already suspected. A crossbow bolt as embedded in her calf, the hailstones hitting the shaft with the same speed as the rest of her body, making small shocks of pain radiate up her leg. All of this came to her and faded in a few heartbeats as the interrupted pushing effort seemed to aggravate the contraction, which redoubled it's efforts with savage force. Valaina rallied herself and pushed again, screaming so loudly her throat began to hurt. She had to finish now, there were assassins! She had to get the baby out so she could leave! "AAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH! COME ONNNNN!" She screamed, pushing so hard her head began to quiver with effort.
And with a sudden pop, Valaina let her head drop back with a sharp clack against the plinth as she felt he pressure snap back as the head came fully out, and she laid there panting as the crowd cheered wildly. She opened her eyes and looked down to see the midwife moving quickly, holding her hands out over where she assumed the head was. her belly was still too large to see anything below it, so Valaina had to hope she was protecting the head from the weather. The contraction didn't fully let up, easing for a moment, then pulsing back stronger than ever as Valaina pushed again, and felt the baby rippling and squirming as it was pushed out of her belly and into the world.
She was expecting cheering at the completion of the birth, but she still started at the sheer intensity of the crowd's expression of joy. She also didn't care bast the reflexive startle. As she heard the baby cry, she was completely taken in by the sweetness of the sound, the only other sound that mattered being the jingling of keys and chains as the straps were undone. "Oh fuck!" she yelped as she nearly slipped off and hit the ground, but the ceremonial guards caught her as she slipped, and guided her to her feet, the midwife handing her the baby, a girl. She wanted to melt, to just sink down with her baby, but the midwife held her upright. "The ritual is not complete yet. You must walk." Valaina felt her eyes go wide, shivering and barely able to stand, "Walk?" "You must exit as you entered, and then you can rest." Before Valaina could respond, she jerked and screamed in pain once again, her daughter flinching and crying at her expression of pain as the crossbow bolt was pulled from her leg. Valaina turned and looked at the path to the ramp, surprised to see it lit by torches, and dimly wondered what time it was. The path looked longer now than it had that morning. But she had to. For her daughter. For the kingdom. She braced herself, and straightened as much as she could, feeling the umbilical cord pulling at her lips as she did, and found she couldn't get past a half upright hunch. Each step was an eternity, her legs shaking so badly, she was surprised they held her weight, but eventually, she found herself at the top of the ramp and descending to the doors that had been opened once again. It was only a dozen more steps before she was out of the hail and inside the stone vaults of the amphitheater. Once the doors were closed, she felt her legs give out, and she was caught before she hit the floor.
She was bustled into what was called the After Chamber, a large space with a massive soft bed, a warm fire and numerous attendants who helped her deliver the afterbirth and dispose of it. Then, while the baby was being looked over, more attendants began lathering Valaina's body in a thick fluid squeezed from plants into her skin. Their efforts burned and stung, but afterwards, everywhere they rubbed began to feel soothed and relaxed once again. "Aloe," One of them explained, "It will help with the sun burn." Valaina didn't have the energy to reply, even to thank them, she just nodded tiredly, her vision fading in and out. "By what name are you calling your daughter?" The midwife asked as she examined the baby, and Valaina felt her eyes snap open. She hadn't really thought of one, but a name came to her now. Not her mother's name. As much as she loved her mother, she had told her nothing of the rigors of birth. She had no sisters. No aunts who's names she liked. But there was a name, the name of the midwife who Valaina had sit with as her aunt Kalunda had labored, and knew. "Her name is Ainara."
One Year Later
It had taken Valaina nearly two weeks before she was strong enough to leave the After Chamber. She quickly found that it had been built with that kind of time in mind, being fully stocked with supplies and materials to allow such a long recovery. When she did finally walk out of the vaulted entrance, she found a newfound respect waiting for her. Few queens had given birth in such a storm, and none had ever done so with a crossbow bolt in their leg. The bolt in question, along with the one that had narrowly missed her had been presented by the prime minister to her as a gift. It came with a sincere apology for regulating her parents to such distant seats in the arena. And while Valaina was still unable to forgive him for that, she took the bolts in the spirit they were intended, keeping them as a relic in the archive.
But the day Ainara turned one, she was standing in the square in front of the amphitheater, looking up at a shrouded statue. She didn't know who had commissioned it, but she felt it was Marne. With little ceremony beyond a short speech about the statue's commissioning, the veil was removed. Valaina gasped as she looked at it. She was depicted as a powerful figure, one hand held protectively over her belly, her other outstretched with a crossbow bolt held in her open palm. The statue's hair, her hair, as bound and pinned in place with the other crossbow bolt, and a lightning bolt crossing it. but what caught her breath were the hundreds of small gems dotting her form, and she knew that these represented the hailstone that pelted her through her birth, She felt a tear come to her eye as she looked at it, feeling the phantom pains of both the hail and the crossbow bolt sting her as the crowd applauded and cheered the statue commemorating their queen.
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Original Work
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Original Male Character/Reader
Characters: Reader, Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character(s)
Additional Tags: POV Second Person, Female Reader-Insert, Breeding, Pregnancy, Birth, graphic birth, Medical Kink, Sexual Free Use, Semi-Public Sex, Older Man/Younger Woman, Riding, College
Summary:
You wanted nothing more than to go to college. But, unfortunately, your choices were limited and expensive. You were left with only one possibility; a university that offered a unique scholarship program for female students. All you had to do was enroll in their surrogacy program and have babies for anyone willing to pay. The part you didn’t expect was that being bred would awaken something in you. As you go through your first pregnancy and birth, you also bend over at every opportunity you can around campus and learn just how much you like getting fucked.
1. a 28 yr old mother of ten is pregnant again, but this baby isn’t her husband’s
After ten babies, I never bother to even count dates anymore. By the time the six weeks has passed, my husband is impatient to get on with things, and so far, he has yet to fail to put a babe in my belly.
This year, though, he was away for a fortnight, travelling to buy a new type of seed for our farm, and someone else got to my empty belly before he did. At first, I wasn’t sure, but by now, it’s undeniable to me. Twenty-eight years old, mother of ten, with an eleventh on the way— I should know.
My husband, Jack, isn’t a big man. He’s ten years or so older than me, chosen by my parents for his large, profitable farm. So large, that he must hire help to farm it, one man all year round with additional men in autumn for harvest. Jack works hard, expects supper on the table when he’s done for the day, and expects me to let him climb on top of me before going to sleep.
Cal, the hired man, is my age, well over six-feet, and kind, above all else. He works, and then he eats the supper I put on the table with a soft thank you, and plays with the flock of children in the yard. The money we pay him, he saves for the purchase of his own plot of land one day. When Jack went away for the seed, Cal stayed behind to care for the livestock and keep the place up. A few cozy evenings by the stove after the children were put to bed turned into a series of secret trysts. Cal’s seed had taken root in me as eagerly as Jack’s had ever done.
In the thick of spring planting, my middle was already softening, pushing out between my hipbones. The farm might have been profitable, but Jack never kept the best back for feeding his family, and I was run off my feet cooking and caring for the children. Where some woman might be soft and round after so many babies, I still reed-slim and angular.
Sliding out of bed one morning, Jack reached over to where I lay on my back, covered only in my nightie. His broad, roughened hand cupped the rising bulge, firm against the pressure he applied. “Another mouth to feed, hm?”
I said nothing, watching him as he stroked the bump. He patted my belly once and then got up, washing and dressing and going down to feed the animals. I rose too, buttoned on my dress, and started the task of feeding everyone.
At the breakfast table, it was the usual chaos, with children darting around and squabbling, the new baby at my breast as I served each plate. Jack ate first, and then Cal. The children I prodded into chairs and silenced with buttered toast. The oldest few had school in the village and needed to eat, dress, and leave. The two eldest were girls, Alice and Beatrice, and could wrangle their siblings tot he schoolhouse on time most days.
I sat briefly, unlatching the baby to switch sides, tucking one breast away and pulling out the other. I was taller than Jack, and he never sired large babes on me, though his children were vigorous. After the two girls, we’d had only boys; Charlie, David, Evan, Finn, Gareth, Henry, Isaac, and James. At least their father would have all the help he wanted once they grew up a bit. Plus the babe growing in me, though Jack would never know it wasn’t his.
Spring came, the planting was done, and I worked the kitchen gardens with an ever-expanding middle. Even with James at my breast, even eating the dredges of last year’s potatoes, dried beans, and jarred preserves, my middle continued to push outward. I’d never looked so pregnant, so early in a pregnancy.
To help hide it, I started grinding chaste berry up into his food, and he rolled onto me at night less and less frequently, and was actually successful even less often. James started sleeping through the hot summer nights, just as I lost my ability to do so, rising to pee at least once, if not twice.
If I had conceived the babe at the New Year, when Jack was away, then I was due in September, right in the middle of the harvest. Say I was pregnant again by the end of October, then next year’s babe would be born in July or August—
I ran right into Cal, out in the yard on my way back from the privy to the house. He caught my elbows, steadying me. I tipped my head back to look up at him, the night balmy around us, alive with the sounds of insects, other night-dwellers.
His enormous hand smoothed over the dome of my belly over my nightie, the rough callouses catching on the tissue-thin linen. “It’s not his, is it?”
I put my hand over his, guiding it to feel the length of the baby’s back, already head-down. “No. Never has one of his made me so big, so fast.”
He pressed his hand harder, and the babe stirred, feet paddling under my ribs. I guided his hand to feel that, too. “Only your child could make me swell like this, Cal.”
Putting his other hand to my face, he bent and kissed me, deep but still sweet. Cherishing, fingers drifting over the dome between us. A babe made of love, not duty, and growing abundantly with it.
I let him have me in the dewy grass, on hands and knees with my nightie flipped up over my back, belly hanging. Cal’s cock split me in half, nearly, so much bigger than Jack. His hand covered the lower half of my face, silencing any gasps or moans as he fucked me hard and thoroughly, wringing an earth-shaking orgasm from me.
Inside, I washed his seed from between my thighs before I slid back into bed beside a still-sleeping Jack, glad I couldn’t be made more pregnant.
~
Harvest came, and I was so uselessly huge, my unwed sister came to mind the children and help with the preserving. Jack didn’t trust Cal to get the best price for the grain in town and so took it himself, spending nights away while Cal worked to bring it in with the short-term crew sleeping in the barn.
The day came when I could take a deep breath again, my belly low and sloped, the baby’s head sunk deep into my pelvis. Not long now, I thought, seated in a chair in the corner of the kitchen, shelling beans or slicing fruit for jarring.
After ten births, my body was well practiced at giving birth. What it wasn’t used to, though, was the size of Cal’s child. Jack’s children came quickly, almost easily. Even Mary marveled at the size of me. “You’re certain there’s just one?”
“Yes,” I sighed, swaying through a contraction. They’d been coming irregularly for a day now, with Jack leaving only a few hours before with the latest load of grain to sell in town. “Just— large.”
“I’ll say,” she answered me. “Well, walking always help shift a babe. I’ll stay with the children if you want to pace on the porch or in the yard.”
I paced on the porch, in my nightie again, my long braid loose down my back. Jack had sent the crew away at last, the grain nearly finished, and Cal left to work it. I paced the long porch as the evening came, and then the twilight. Mary put the kids to bed, and I laboured out in the fresh air, the pains coming faster and harder.
Hanging onto the railing, swaying, sweating, I gasped at the distinct pop! within me, fluids splashing out onto the floorboards between my feet. With the next pain, I groaned, feeling the beginning of the urge to push.
Mary rubbed my back, grinding her knuckles into the base of my spine. Footsteps on the stairs drew attention. “Oh, it isn’t decent, Cal, for you to see. Go on, go back to the bunkhouse—”
“It’s his,” I panted between pains. “That’s why… God in heaven, it’s huge.”
Mary paused, listened to me struggle through another pain. “I see.”
I had to push, and I struggled to change positions, trying to sink to my knees unsuccessfully. Cal was there in an instant, levering me into a better position without effort. Mary went for the stool.
I sagged against him, exhausted, letting my head loll on his shoulder. He murmured gently to me, wiping my face with the wet cloth Mary offered him, and settling me in the birthing stool between pains. I reached down, checking my progress, and found the babe was just there, so close and yet the hardest part still lay between now and its birth.
With Cal and Mary for support, it took an hour just to split my sex most of the way around the head. The child was simply bigger than any babe I had carried and birthed before, and my body struggled as if it was my first.
Tucking my chin with the next pain, I let out a low, bestial growl as I pushed with everything I had, through the burning agony—
The head pushed past the tightest part of me, and Mary checked for the cord as I panted, letting Cal hold me up. So, so close. Just the shoulders, and then…
It took another hour to turn the shoulders, to push them one at a time out of my body. Usually by then, the babes just sort of dropped out, but I had to push the babe right to the hips before it fell into Mary’s waiting hands.
“A boy!” she squeaked, toweling as the baby grizzled and cried already. She passed him up to me, easily over ten pounds, nearly as big as James had been at four months. He cried strongly, limbs flailing, skin pinking up with every breath.
Cal circled his arms around me, helping me hold him in my trembling arms. “He’s stunning.”
I smile tiredly, peering down at the new life in my arms. “He is.”
This is a random secret birth in an inn that I wrote a while back but never posted. My first fpreg story on here! Björn and Kaya are original characters, part of a little group of freedom fighters that live in my head. It’s sometime in the medieval times, in England.
I have also posted this to AO3 (registered users only)
“Come on, my darling, keep going,” Björn encourages with bated breath, feeling his own skin perspire all over in the steam, despite the fact that it’s not him who is working hard. He is intensely focused on Kaya in front of him, sharing the wooden tub together in this small inn room. All he sees is Kaya’s muscular back, skin slick and shining with her sweat alone, flexing hard as her body surges and tenses with the motions of expulsion, at the mercy of nature.
“The head is almost out, Kaya, you’re so close.”
Björn’s love growls a truly horrific noise as she tenses again, flowing with the motion of her body’s will, the muscles popping out of her back and her lowered shoulders and her arms where she’s gripping the wooden tub on either side of herself. In his hands below the water, Björn feels the hardness of their child’s head drop down into his palms, their downy hair floating in the water, the tightness and heat of Kaya’s stretching tissue.
“....hrrrrmmmMMMUUUUUUUUUUUHHH!!!” Kaya growls out, her head raising and trembling severely, her long hair a sweaty and tangled mess. In Björn’s hands, the baby’s head bounces back behind Kaya’s tissues. Kaya chokes in two gasps, unable to draw in air, her hands scrambling to grip the sides of the tub.
Then before Björn can remind her to breathe, Kaya bears down again and Björn can feel every bit of her effort in his hands. Their child is coming. They are so close to making the passage, slipping beyond the threshold. This is the pivotal moment, Björn knows. His beloved is fighting for her life to bring their child into the world, into his hands.
“Good my love, good,” Björn encourages as Kaya’s growl goes near-silent, her head trembling hard and her back breaking out in a new slick sweat.
She holds down as long as she possibly can, trembling and flexing so hard, before she must surrender and burst it out, only to gear up for more effort. She is a warrior in battle, fighting harder than Björn has ever seen her. She can’t really speak anymore, and so Björn lets her concentrate, only speaking softly every once in a while to encourage his love. She has noticed. Each time Björn encourages her and tells her the head is coming out more, Kaya responds by sending a gargantuan push into his hands. She knows that the only way out of this battle is through. It is an unimaginable pain unlike any other that Björn has seen her bear in the years they have fought by each other’s sides, and yet she is doing it. She is so close. She is pushing their baby out so beautifully, working so incredibly hard.
The baby has been on the cusp of crowning since just before dusk. It is now pitch dark outside, their only light being the candles in the room, which are burning very low now. Pools of wax almost drown them. Björn has not left this tub since shortly after Kaya began to push, and that was to pour more hot water inside. The water is getting tepid, he knows, but the steam still fills the room thanks to the freezing winter air threatening to crawl into the space.
Kaya gags as she quietly pushes, and since she’s so quiet and focused, Björn encourages her eagerly — “Yesyesyes oh GOOD, Kay, big and powerful—” — and a flush of red runs down Kaya’s entire back as she trembles, gradually dipping down farther into the cup of Björn’s hands. The head is so hairy and warm, dropping and dropping, and there comes a point where Kaya simply holds it there, though she is still giving 120% effort.
Then when Björn thinks she cannot possibly push any harder, Kaya growls that out and gasps silently, raising her shoulders, and then she summons every muscle in her tired body and SHOVES down, waaaay down and massively hard. She pushes much too hard to contain the sound, which escapes her in strangled, jagged grunts and growls, drawn-out, and her sweaty muscular body shakes extremely hard with it, slowly dipping more into the water, her head raising and tipping on her shoulders.
The head bounces back in behind Kaya’s tissues, then it’s one more gigantic, brutal trembling push and Björn trails his fingers around Kaya’s tissue to feel that it’s finally at a crown!
Björn has to quickly lift a hand and plant it on Kaya’s lower back, pressing down, as Kaya reacts to the ensuing hellish burn of crowning by nearly leaping out of the water, screeching and gasping.
Björn tells her, “Bottom down, my sweetheart, oh you are almost done Kaya just breathe for me. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.” He instructs, but Kaya can hardly breathe. She is gasping, howling, making quick and hard grunts, and Björn feels the head in his hand launch slightly down with every one. It’s like a slingshot, bobbing down then up, down then up. The scalp is squishy in his hand, but he spreads his fingers to feel around the tight ‘o’ of Kaya’s tissue, and the skull is hard and very large.
Kaya tries to blow raspberries as she leans forward over the rim of the tub, muscular arms hanging over and her trembling fists raised in front of her face. Under the water, her legs are spread like a frog, shaking so hard, her feet on either side of Björn’s nude hips.
Kaya’s voice becomes very strained as her body commands her to keep pushing long and hard, choking on the uncontrollable urge. “Hu-ooouuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhh GOD! Oh GOD oh-OUUUUUUUHHHHHHH!”
“That’s it, love, here it comes,” Björn says fiercely. He keeps one hand on Kaya’s lower back, the other all around the baby’s head. Gradually, one hard little shove at a time, it’s filling out his palm. Kaya is doing so beautifully, maintaining control, trying so hard to push the head out and not lose herself.
This is a hard birth, a large baby, and the intensity has Björn barely containing a sob. He needs to focus, for Kaya. For their child who is almost here.
The crown launches down into Björn’s hand as Kaya can’t help but let out a ragged, strangled screech. Her entire body is trembling and red, her hair standing up on end and sticking to her bulging neck and shoulders from the sweat. Sweat droplets pour down her back and into the water. As she fights hard, grunting and growling and screeching and not stopping, Björn tries to look down into the water to see the head coming.
Finally, Kaya finds the will to speak, but it’s a horrible sound in her throat. She’s nearly biting the edge of the tub, leaning forward and trying so hard to push her bottom down into the water. “HHRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHH!! OOOOOOOOUUUUUHHHHHHit’scrownii…nn…”
“Yes it is, love, almost at the forehead.”
“.......nnnnNNNGUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHH!!.... AAOOUUUUHHHHHhhhmmmmmmmmm……..mmmmmMMMMMMEEEEEEUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHH!!” Slick back expands and raises as she chokes on a gasp, then down — “HMMMMMUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”
All of that gigantic pushing had brought the baby’s head out and in, out and in, just slipping a tiny bit out each time. Björn can feel that Kaya has pushed the head out to the brow. He can feel the features of their child’s face appearing. He can see them in his mind’s eye. He sobs, so unspeakably proud of the love of his life. He tells her, and he tells her how close she is, how she only needs a few more good strong pushes.
Kaya tries to look over her shoulder, but can’t. She is all red, all sweat, body hard and trembling. “Mylove—” A surprised gasp, a shift of head in Björn’s hand. “HUH–EEEEEIIUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHH!! FUCK!”
“Stay in control Kay, stay—”
“MMRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGHHHHH!!” Kaya grunts incredibly deep and hard, digging her chin into her naked chest and her forehead into the sharp edge of the tub as she flings a hand downwards and pushes their child’s head into her palm. Björn puts his hand over Kaya’s, praying.
The raw power of Kaya’s body and voice shakes the room. Björn goes deaf for the long moment it takes Kaya to push their baby’s head out to the nose. She is screaming, sloshing the water, but she just keeps pushing, knowing she’s so close because she’s feeling it all. Every millimeter of the head that is spreading and ripping her open. Björn can feel it too. His love pushes brutally hard, then again, then again, massively strong short shoves until the rest of the baby’s head pops out under the water, launching into their hands, and Kaya shudders and flinches upwards, yelping once, so loud.
She has not stopped pushing for some time. At a certain point, she became determined to get this baby out and not rest, and that is just what she keeps doing. It happens in flashes. They cry, feeling their baby’s big long head under the water, and then Kaya splashes up water to set both hands on the sides of the tub again, massive and muscular and strong, and she PUSHES like she never has before, summoning every muscle in her body to launch their child into Björn’s hands.
She holds…
Holds…
Holds…
And GRRRUNTS. And the baby’s head is out, but nothing more. Björn keeps his hands at the ready, trying to feel around the head—the chubby cheeks!—trusting his love to get their child out on her own.
“One more really hard one Kay, c’mon—”
And Kaya was already filling her lungs, then BEARING DOWN hard, SO hard.
“Bear down bear down,” Björn hisses, feeling their baby’s neck come out just a bit, as Kaya arches her sweaty, hard back, and pushes into her lover’s hands and lap with everything she has.
The innkeeper is knocking on the door—it must be them, because of the noise—and Björn becomes all the more determined for them to do this on their own. His wife is only moments away from giving birth, from doing it all on her own, and Björn will not interrupt nor distract her, not at this extremely pivotal moment.
Björn chokes on a sob, realizing where they are and what they’re doing. His love, Kaya, is giving birth right now. She is a few big pushes away from bringing their child, their little love, into the world. She has worked so hard. SO hard. This victory is no one’s but hers, and she deserves privacy for this moment.
Though she is surely exhausted and losing grip, she does not give up. Kaya pushes and pushes and pushes with the strength of gods, deaf to the knocking at the door, blind to the growing darkness in the room and the blood in the water. Involuntarily, she makes the most powerful noises in the world, sounding nothing like Björn has ever heard before, fighting with absolutely everything in her for the life of their child.
Björn can hardly hear himself, realizing somehow that he’s been talking.
“Push yes push Kaya, my love, come on sweetheart come on give it hard, push hard.”
What does it is Kaya’s body moving on reflex, or her quick thinking. She brings one leg up, her knee splashing through and poking out of the water, and she tips her torso back so she’s sitting nearly upright, as wide open as possible, their baby’s huge head a giant boulder between her legs. She gets in that position, and she’s absolutely dripping with sweat, body shaking with tremors and corded muscles popping, skin flushed like fever, and Björn finally has a good grip under their baby’s chin, and Kaya spreads her muscular arms, getting ready for the big push, shoulders raising…
And with absolutely everything in her, she LAUNCHES down, her head falling back on Björn’s shoulder as Björn scoots forward in the water and instead reaches around his wife’s front, under her huge and flexing belly, and by god how she PUSHES, summoning every last ounce of human effort imaginable, making an inhuman sound that tears up her throat, the last scream, the last effort, coming out coming out bearing down and out on the cusp of life…
The shoulder pops free, and it is the most horrendous pain of her life, but Björn has her, his naked chest pressed up against Kaya’s hard, tacky, trembling flesh, and Björn watches as a foot pokes through her rock-hard belly, then tumbles beneath the surface, and Kaya throws her head back one more time to push the waist out, and Björn goes deaf to Kaya’s birthing scream…
And a baby launches out and floats in a cloud beneath the water.
Kaya gasps like she’s coming to life, raising her head off Björn’s tense shoulder as Björn bears her entire weight, and all the pain and tension just falls off Kaya in an instant.
She flinches back as the baby’s hips launch out, and then in moments, as she’s gasping, she slips down Björn’s chest, splashing water, and reaches into the water with both hands for their child.
A euphoric sound bursts out of Kaya as she raises their baby out of the water in seconds, and there they are! So pink, so wrinkled, and so fat! Björn is so in love, sobbing, it takes him a moment to realize their baby is floppy and pale, and there is blood in the water.
Kaya puts the baby on her breast, leaning fully against Björn with her knees up, stroking the babe and panting, making soft worried cooing sounds. They both watch in tense silence, touching their baby, as just then, little purple lips hiccup, and their chunky bruised face crinkles in, and…
There is a crackle of a cry, struggling for a long time, and then finally it bursts out, the most blessed sound in the world.
Björn is sobbing and Kaya is moaning, dropping her head back on Björn’s shoulder and cupping the back of their baby’s huge and long head. And they have so much thick, dark hair! The baby screeches against Kaya’s breast, and Björn can’t even hear the knocking anymore. He just cries, and kisses his love, and they hold their baby safe and alone.
Since the original pinned post for my google drives disappeared, here is the new one.
birthvids part 1: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/0BwPfxpJEguTVcjJjWlZaMGFXNFk?resourcekey=0-V55Z1AElW3rqa57VhGycmQ&usp=drive_link
birthvids part 2: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/0B6BSkF4KXZVKQUhRWTIxX1BTWGM?resourcekey=0-9oUCk-VLHvzzzVyBvhFR1w&usp=drive_link
from youtube or other video sites: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1C7Y3WNQdgkQcB8zhmaFE9fokhcMeu6Wl?usp=drive_link
other drives: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/15Z18Fps1DdRc2-BZcDtKBAHYfnSECtVt?usp=drive_link
3D anime birth pics made by me: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1PdkrrFGpc5epC-pWluuK1USo4F5K8teV?usp=drive_link
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