27 | transmasc | they/them | birth fetish, size kink, trans pregnancy, and all that good stuff <3 | looking to connect with other fetishists for rp and other horny activities (yes this is basically my JO archive)
does anyone remember that birth fic that was about the bull dyke having a super hard birth? a lesbian emt comes and fists her? I can't find it for the life of me and it's sooooo hot
combination of two different prompts that i lost the asks for: ["I'm feeling a lot of pressure" and/or "I feel like it's about to fall out of me" featuring clit stim?] anon and ["I feel pressure!” + “My water broke!”] anon, this is for you guys 🖤
“Another?”
“Mmhmmmmph,” I groan, bracing myself on the rim of the tub as I bear down against the heavy mass shoving through the stretched tissue of my cervix. “God, it feels like it's right there.”
I recline on the bathroom floor, one hand wrapped around my knee to pull it up towards my chest as I lean against the cool porcelain of the tub. Riding out the tail end of a contraction, I curl over my taut, overdue belly, and grit my teeth as I strain, working to move the massive head into my birth canal. “fffffuck, there's so much pressureeee.”
“You're doing so good, baby,” you assure me, leaning in to press a kiss to my sweaty forehead. “You're making so much progress.”
I simply moan, rolling my head to the side as I take several deep breaths. After nearly an hour of pushing, I'm halfway inclined to assume that the baby is simply never coming out, and equally as terrified by the notion that it will. That it is. The next contraction steadily begins to build, turning my belly into a white hot vice grip as it cramps down around my spasming womb. “It's comingggg!” I shriek, feeling my cervix finally stretch around the head.
“It is!” you exclaim, reaching between my spread thighs to cup your hands around my bulging sex. “Keep pushing, baby. You're really opening up.”
“The pressure!”
You gently shush me, quietly commanding me to look at you as you brush the pad of your index finger over the hard nub of my throbbing clit. “I've got you,” you coo. “Keep focusing on me. There you go. Thaaaaat's it.”
I pant the end of the push away before immediately bearing down into another one, staring up at you with widened eyes as my hips instinctively roll forward to meet your touch. “Ohhhhh. Oh, God.”
“Better?”
“Much,” I gasp. “But there's still—hnnng, still s-so much pressure. Ooooh.”
"Use it, baby. Push for me. Let me worry about everything else.” You add a bit more pressure as you circle my clit, and my eyes flutter closed as I push down towards your touch, grinding my cunt against the palm of your hand. “You're getting so close.”
"Ohgodohgodoh—.” I cum with a choked off cry, and a significant portion of the pressure I'd been experiencing suddenly releases as my water breaks, fluid gushing out onto the floor between us. “Mmmm, there's the waters. It's coming! Holy fuck, its COMING.”
The lips of my slit begin to part, gaping open into a small ‘O’ as the head shoves its way down. My thighs shake and tremble violently as I push, throwing my head back with a shrill scream. “It's right thereeeee. Fuck, its gonna fall out of meee!”
“Breathe, baby,” you say sternly. “You need to slow down.”
I thrash my head from side to side in a steadfast, hard NO. “It BURNS.” My tissues are beginning to stretch, thin and red-hot to the touch. “Ohhh, get it out. Please get it out. The PRESSUREEEE.”
You press your fingertips into my clit, providing steady counter-pressure as the first glimpse of the baby's head begins to peak out from behind my slit. “I can see it,” you tell me, emotion shining in your voice. “You're doing such a good job, baby. Just keep using that pressure.”
My nails dig into the meat of my thigh as I pull it back, leaving crescent shaped marks embedded in the skin as I bear down hard. My other hand slips from the tub and flies down between my legs, guiding your fingers to a better spot on my clit as you hum approvingly. “Coming,” I mumble deliriously. “Coming. It's comin-oh, I'm gonna cum!”
And I do just that, pleasure washing over me from my head down to the tips of my toes. "Oh, God," I rasp, heaving to catch my breath. "It- ughhh- it's so low."
"I can see the top of the head." You beam as you press another kiss to my forehead, gently cradling my stretched out opening. "You're so close."
"But how close?" I ask, inhaling sharply as I gear up to push again.
You hesitate for a beat, eyeing the small, dime-sized patch of slimy wet hair visible between my parted lips and comparing it to the sheer mass of the head itself, bulging outwards from between my thighs. My outer labia are stretched from crease to crease, and my sex is swollen and inflamed. "Close," you finally say. "Ready to push again?"
I nod frantically as I bear down, a roar building up in my chest and throat. "Uuuuuurrrghhhhhh!" I push with every bit of my strength, skin burning bright red, and an unstoppable force (the pressure) meets a seemingly literal immovable object (the baby's head). "HHHHNNNNNGGGGGGG."
This was written by my collaborator @evertide05 (https://www.deviantart.com/evertide), who was also the main driving force behind creating Maya's character. Posted with permission and is to be considered canon for all purposes.
“Well, your weight and blood pressure look good for a six-week pregnancy. How about we have a quick check of how things are going on the inside?” the doctor asks nicely, like she’s not the least bit bothered by the discomfort her patient is about to be in and, in fact, is eager to get started.
Maddie smiles a bit nervously as she lies back in bed, shimmying her panties down just enough to give the doctor access.
“I’m not going to be able to work very well like that, Maddie,” the doctor says as she pulls on a glove, the latex making a somewhat exaggerated snap into place as she lets it go. “Come on, now. Panties down, dress up, legs open.”
She mutters a shy, “Um...o-okay,” as she does as instructed: Dress up, then panties down to her ankle-high socks, and then legs spread. She breathes a little harder as the doctor sits on her stool by the bed and rests a hand on her stomach, once again flat (at least, for a woman who had given birth to twins some time ago and a third baby just recently), and lightly chews her lip as the gloved hand, index and middle fingers extended, slides out of sight below her pubic mound. This is the first of many such examinations she’ll be going through, which will be so much more involved than a simple gynecological exam, and she’d better be ready.
At least, that’s what the character she’s playing thinks, and Maddie can draw on plenty of her own experience to bring out that character. Gotta make it look good for the camera, after all, which is indeed recording even if this is just for fun and to give her and Heather a little something to enjoy later.
“And here, we,” the doctor says before she slides in, making Maddie yelp. She’s good at making pleasure sound like pain, and she’s extremely familiar with how well the two can go together. “Go,” the doctor finishes, fingers deep inside her. “Sorry, Maddie, I didn’t want you to tense up on me before I could get in.”
“Aah...y-yeah, doctor. It’s fine, I’m fine,” she whimpers as she breathes out through pursed lips and tries to relax as the doctor’s fingers flex a bit, making her visibly grip the bed sheets.
She’s not completely faking her pain: The doctor is deep in there, and she’s still recovering from the breech birth she went through not long ago, quite an ordeal even by the standards of childbirth. There are no contractions crashing over her like waves in a storm-tossed sea, but these two fingers might be all she can handle. Even pleasuring herself, in the rare instances she has the time, can get uncomfortable.
If it weren’t for Heather being there to keep lending a hand with her twin boys and newborn daughter, she wouldn’t even have that time. Her friend has always been there to lend a hand. Like right now, for instance, with a hand knuckle-deep in her vagina.
Speaking of which, she hasn’t revealed her secret camgirling to Heather yet, but she’s been thinking about it. She’s also thought about asking her to join in; she polled her subscribers to see if they’d want to see her with another woman, and the response was a definite “Yes.” This video would be a great way to introduce Heather to her fans, if she agrees to share it. Even if Heather’s not comfortable sharing their intimate fun online, it would be a load off her mind if Heather knew what Maddie was up to and was okay with it. One less secret to hide.
She kind of wishes she weren’t already so warm and wet, so any tension in her vagina could be real, not faked.
Heather’s doing a great job of staying in character while playing it up for the camera. She’s staying calm but firm and keeping a polite smile on her face, though they know the doctor’s not being polite because she has to. “Okay, everything’s feeling good in there. Just need a sec to make sure,” she says as she pokes around, making Maddie squirm a little but force herself to remain as still as possible.
Like a good girl.
“So, while we’re taking care of this, any big changes to your health you want to talk about?” Heather asks calmly.
Taking a deep breath, Maddie looks up at the doctor and says, “Not really, doctor. The morning sickness isn’t so bad, that’s what I was most afra-a-aid of,” she stutters out as Heather rubs a sore spot absolutely on purpose from memorizing where they are by now. “My breasts are still kinda tender and feel...fuller.” She’s also not lying about that, considering she’s nursing a newborn and is feeling a little full right now.
“Well, great! Sounds like you’re doing great for six weeks!” Heather says cheerfully.
“Yeah. In fact, I’m actually...more than great...” she trails off nervously, looking away. The doctor’s questioning hum makes her glance around self-consciously. “Ummm...nothing I say leaves this office, right?”
Heather smiles at her as she eases her fingers out but leaves her hand nearby. “Of course, Maddie. A lot’s going on with your body during your pregnancy, and I want you to trust me completely with it.” Whether she means “trust me with your problems” or “trust me with your body” or both, the honeyed words go well with her sticky fingers.
After a soft giggle, Maddie says, “I’ve been really...needy, lately. Like, y’know,” she nods down towards her privates, “that kind of needy. I always figured, when you’re pregnant, your sex drive goes, ‘Okay, we made a baby, no need to think about sex for nine months!’ But not me.” She squirms a bit on the bed, her toes curling in her socks. “Before, I’d usually get myself off once a day before bed, maybe twice if I found something really arousing. Now? Three times a day...and that’s the opening bid.”
Her “doctor” laughs softly. “Oh my! That’s certainly a complication that I wouldn’t call a problem!” she says.
Maddie giggles again. “It sure beats the first trimester blues I hear people talking so much about!” she agrees. “But, um...the thing is, it really is kind of a hassle. I have been, y’know, getting off faster, but I can’t control when I’m in the mood. If I’m at home alone, it’s great. But when I’m out, or I’m meeting up with someone, or driving around, or something like that, and suddenly I get the itch and I can’t scratch it, I can be in kind of a pickle. Kind of hard to think about getting anything else done that needs getting done, you know what I mean?”
“Sure, Maddie. It’s totally normal for your sex drive to get crazy. Some women don’t even want to be touched until way after that baby’s out of them. With others...you’d think they were already trying to make another,” she remarks, getting both to laugh. “It should swing the other way and level out eventually...more or less...probably, but until then...hmmm, I can’t really prescribe any kind of medication for that. Not something that’s proven safe during pregnancy, anyway.”
“Mmm,” Maddie grumbles cutely. “You’re sure there’s nothing you can do for me? Being horny all the time is kind of a pain when you’re single, you know. I can only do so much for myself.”
Heather lowers her eyelids as her smile becomes more of a grin. “As long as you remember...” she trails off before her fingertips brush against Maddie’s privates, trailing a slow circle around her inner thighs, “nothing leaves this office,” she finishes in a husky tone.
She quivers at Heather’s touch, her toes curling. Again, she’s not totally hamming it up for the camera. Heather knows what she likes and how she likes it. Maddie isn’t pregnant, but her arousal is anything but faked.
Nor is the hiss of mixed pleasure and discomfort when Heather slides her fingers back in.
“Hmhmhm, just what the doctor ordered, huh?” she teases as she wriggles her fingers a bit. Maddie’s hips lift a little, but Heather presses her other hand on Maddie’s stomach. “Uh uh, if I’m gonna take care of you, you gotta do what I say,” she reminds Maddie.
“Okay...s-sorry, doctor,” she whimpers as she submits to Heather’s touch.
“If you’re going to be dealing with these...hormone swings,” Heather says as she starts slowly pumping her fingers in and out, making Maddie breathe harder, “maybe you can get a head start on getting ready for your delivery. Have you thought about how you wanna do that?”
Of course, Maddie has: Her births have barely left her thoughts every time she’s gotten any action ever since her first birth, whether she’s been with someone at the time or not, and she’s still feeling the aftershocks of her daughter’s birth with the background soreness as her lover pleasures her. Through her deep breaths, she gasps out, “Uh huh. I...mmf...I was gonna try for a...natural birth.”
Ugh, just the phrase “natural birth” was already arousing after her first birth, now the dial’s gone up to 11.
“Yeah, I had a feeling. That’s what I hear a lot of moms say, especially first-timers,” Heather agrees. “I can give you some classes to attend, but what I want to cover here and now are some exercises.” She lowers her voice a little, still sounding professional but letting some lust creep in. “Like...perineal massage,” she goes on, adding a little more speed and force in her thrusts to emphasize it.
“Mm hm. Specifically, down here,” Heather notes, sliding the tips of her ring and little fingers along her lover’s perineum. “This is going to be under a lot of strain when your baby’s coming out.”
Doesn’t she know it. This is making her tremble as the memories of how much she went through (and what went through her, physically and mentally) come flooding back. She’s gotten a lot of use out of that video Heather took while she was delivering her daughter, and she can’t wait until she’s healed enough to go all-out on herself again.
“Or how about doing Kegels? You know, flexing your muscles to toughen them up? Like lifting weights, only with your vaginal muscles,” she asks.
Maddie’s about to answer, but her back arches in surprise and, also to her surprise, pain as Heather slides a third finger into her. She’s definitely not healed enough for that to be comfortable.
“Oh, Maddie, if this is too much for you, you’re going to have a rough time in labor,” she murmurs, leaving her third finger in as she keeps fingering Maddie. “C’mon, gimme a flex. Squeeze like you’re trying to hold in a bathroom break.”
“Sss, mmf, what...” Maddie pants, trying to stay in character and not call Heather by name.
She yelps as Heather curls her fingers a bit. Her lover knows her well, but she’s walking a tightrope.
The grin on Heather’s face widens. “Birth isn’t going to be any gentler. Just one flex. Be a good girl for me,” she purrs.
Through her clouding thoughts, Maddie gets enough control back to do as Heather says and tenses her muscles, which makes her whimper as the still-sore tissues contract over the increasingly rough intrusions.
“Good! I felt that,” Heather praises her, still not withdrawing the extra digit or even uncurling her fingers. “Do some sets of those a few times a day, and you’ll be glad you did later. I’ve even heard of moms orgasming when they do it!”
Maddie would like to agree, but she’s building up to one, herself. More accurately, it’s not an orgasm: Orgasms were supposed to be overloads of pleasure, not pain. But ever since her first birth, she’s discovered something about herself.
She doesn’t just have orgasms. When things are just right, she has...something else.
And while this doesn’t compare to childbirth, between Heahter’s fingers fucking her and the growing blur of pleasure and pain they’re causing, she’s building up to it. Not as high, not as hard, not as intense, but it’s gonna be more than an orgasm.
Heather reads her moans for what they are and gives her a lustful growl as she speeds up again. “Attagirl, Maddie. You’re gonna do great giving birth.”
What’s Heather doing? Since adding that third finger, she’s been going totally off script! Not that they have word-for-word scripts to follow, and they’re just having some fun for now, but between her boys, her daughter, and med school, Maddie does not have a lot of time for herself so she has to make the most of it, whether or not she ends up sharing this video. And Heather knows this very well!
If it weren’t working so well, Maddie would have already stopped her and asked what she was doing.
“Just take a second and think about it,” Heather encourages her. “Do some visualizing when you’re getting ready for birth.”
Breathing heavily, she goes along with it. Even if she doesn’t use this as a camgirl video, she’ll be watching this again later. Her eyes flutter closed as she remembers what it felt like to give birth. When all that crashing pressure hammering at her cervix suddenly turned into an irresistible command to force it through.
“Think about your baby moving through your body. Through your hips,” Heather muses, her fingertips reaching all the way back with her thrusts now to just barely brush against Maddie’s cervix.
It’s increasingly uncomfortable as well as pleasurable in that way Maddie once felt like is “supposed” to be wrong. This still isn’t even close to the real thing, but a combination of memories, videos, and her very active imagination is firing up her pain and pleasure centers again. The fact that it’s someone else doing this to her, not her doing this to herself, is helping.
“Imagine it inching down, down, down through you. Squeezing through that tight space.” She rubs her fingers in circles along Maddie’s vaginal walls.
Maddie knows just how tight it can get in there. She’s had a baby come through her headfirst, followed by a doctor’s whole hand reaching up in there to turn that baby’s twin, and long after that, a massively difficult breech.
And she’s very familiar with fantasizing during labor, as familiar as she is with fantasizing about labor. She remembers how she thought back on getting fucked so hard it’s no wonder her first pregnancy was with twins even as her uterus, overcharged on Pitocin, was straining to get them out. Knowing exactly what she wanted, she put on the show of a lifetime during her second birth, with herself as both the star and the audience.
Her whimpers and moans mix as her hips reflexively jerk to meet Heather’s thrusts, as if her body as well as her mind is wired to welcome the mix of pain and pleasure that she’s not in total control over. Through her closed eyes, she feels Heather press down a little harder on her stomach as her fingers keep up their assault.
“And then...”
Her voice lingers for only a second before all four of her fingers are pushed inside Maddie, with her thumb the only remaining digit not inside and instead rubbing around her clitoris. It makes Maddie let out a sharp cry as the pain starts overtaking the pleasure.
“Crowning.”
This doesn’t compare to crowning either, but holy fuck this is starting to hurt, and only sort of in the fun way.
Maddie remembers when she pleasured herself (if it could be called such a thing) while recovering after her twins were born just hours ago. She was taking a little risk at crossing the line from causing herself pain to causing herself real harm, especially in the body part she loved the most, but when birth had shown her that her body was capable of such impossible heights of pain and pleasure and let her see a side of herself for who she really was, she had to explore it while she had the chance.
She’s had more time now to recover from her breech delivery, but it put her vagina through even more than the twins did.
Her overstretched, sore tissues are still releasing the feel-good hormones even as the pain grows from aching to burning, but the safety word is threatening to escape her. She doesn’t want Heather to fully stop, she can feel a much-needed release building, but she needs Heather to ease up.
Her eyes squeeze shut and her head rocks from side to side while she tries to resist giving Heather the signal. Even now, it reminds her of the times when she was giving birth and begging for an epidural, for the doctor to help, for it to stop despite knowing there was no escape and, more importantly, no mercy. But as high as her body is climbing, she’s losing the battle against the pain again.
She barely notices as Heather’s hand leaves her stomach and slides behind her head. Whatever Heather’s doing, Maddie doesn’t want her to stop, but she has to slow down before she hurts her. She takes one more deep breath to stave off saying the safety word...and is, just for a second, silenced by Heather’s sensual, yet authoritative, whisper in her ear:
“Push.”
Her eyes pop open as she looks at Heather in shock. Her thoughts were already a fog, and now confusion has been added to the mix of what she’s feeling. Why would Heather-
“Come on, Maddie,” she says, lifting Maddie’s head off the pillow and encouraging her to sit up, her fingers thrusting hard, fast, and deep, “pull those legs back and push.”
Holy shit. Heather would only say that if...
She can think about that later, she needs this now.
Giving in to the fantasy, she lets the memories of her births take center stage in her imagination as she reaches down, grips the bottoms of her thighs, pulls them back, and curls forward, bearing down on a pressure that isn’t there but she’ll never forget that feeling. Her teeth clench and a low growl rumbles in her throat as she imagines Heather’s fingers spreading her wider.
She doesn’t have to imagine for long, as that’s what Heather does to her opening, making her scream.
“Attagirl! Don’t let that baby go back up! Push into that burn!” Heather encourages her, her thumb leaving Maddie’s clit and taking away what pleasure Maddie was getting.
The idea of “burning” is very appropriate to what happened to Maddie when she was giving birth. Pain and pleasure were under so much heat and pressure that some of the wires in her head and her body welded together and, while the two parts were still distinct, they became something new. Heather’s fingers aren’t nearly the same as a baby moving through her, but this is the closest she’s come to reliving the experience.
Just like then, she’s breaking into a sweat, struggling to focus, and grasping at the release she knows is there. The release from the agony and the release from the sexual tension that can’t be put into words, that she can only get by pushing herself out of it.
By...just...pushing.
A tear leaks out of one clamped-shut eye as she gasps in a few shuddering breaths before pushing again, her jaw unclenching and her growl turning into a roar. She can do this! She can get what she wants! She just has to feed that fire!
Her roar becomes a scream again as Heather stretches her opening wider. It almost feels like she’s getting ready to shove her whole fist in there, the very thought of which makes her heart flutter. But it’s enough to make her shriek, “I can’t do it! Pull it out, pull it out!”
Heather’s voice pulls her back from the brink again as she speaks louder over Maddie’s cries, but keeps a steady tone, “Maddie, you’re at full crown, one more big push and we’ll have a head. Come on, go for it!”
That gets Maddie to curl even further forward, feeling like every muscle in her body is straining. She’s coming close to her breaking point, both from the release threatening to flood her and the risk that Heather is going to stretch her too far. And she can’t stop now: If something’s going to give, she welcomes it, and as she feels that wave starting to crest, her voice rises to match.
She gets her wish when Heather’s thumb returns to her clit at just the right time, and that’s the spark that sets off an explosion.
Her voice hits that sweet spot of blending the most burning scream and the most thrilled squeal. The true heights of both can only be reached by giving birth, but this is overloading her just the same. Her vaginal muscles tremble and burn with phantom sensations of stretching around a nonexistent baby. Her fingers grip her thighs so hard she might leave bruises before they leave her legs and reach up to roughly squeeze her breasts. Her head falls back as she stays sitting up, making her a simultaneously rigid and floppy S-shape.
And her head...well, those welded-together pain and pleasure centers are turning everything else into a blur. She hears Heather coaching her on what a good mama she’s being and saying something about the head being out; she can’t quite make out the words, but they keep fanning the flames that have filled her.
It soon dies down, and Maddie’s left gasping and sweaty as she lies back. Heather relaxes her fingers, letting her opening ease closed, before removing them. Maddie’s aftershock moans mix with her breaths. She can feel dampness on her chest; she always leaks when she cums if she hasn’t pumped or nursed beforehand, and such a powerful rush along with her hands gripping her breasts have definitely soaked this dress.
Once the stars stop swirling around her head, she opens her eyes to see Heather sitting by the bed, smiling at her. Not a knowing grin, just a satisfied smile. They regard each other quietly before she gets up and goes to turn off the camera before returning to the bedside and calmly addressing Maddie, not as the doctor, but in her normal voice.
“I know.”
Just as she thought. It’s way too late to feel shame or be called out, not that she has any reason to think Heather disapproves, but she feels self-conscious anyway that her secret’s out. She slows her breathing as she sits up and asks, “When?”
“I suspected for a while. You loved being pregnant. Like...not just in the happy-glowy way. But every time you’d talk about when you had the twins, you talked about it with such passion, such detail, such,” she gives a single wiggle of her eyebrows, “longing. You couldn’t wait to do it again, and you wanted me to make sure you got what you wanted.” She leans in a little. “When you were in labor, I could hear the difference between your voice when you moaned and cried out with the contractions, but...Maddie, how many times did we go at it when you were pregnant? I heard those sounds so many times, it’s impossible not to notice how similar they are.”
Maddie lets out a little “heh” as she wipes the sweat off her forehead. “It was really that obvious?”
Heather chuckles back and goes on, “Heh, I had suspicions way before you went into labor, especially when you wanted me to be there with you. Seeing you laboring didn’t do anything to disprove me, especially when you suddenly wanted me to start recording you and I could tell some part of you loved every minute on camera, the more painful, the better.” She lifts her fingers, still slick with Maddie’s juices, and separates them to tantalizingly show the stickiness still covering them, making Maddie feel warmer all over again. “Then you came when the doctor examined you...and I don’t know if you fooled him, but no way in fuck hell did that fool me. That was when I knew what you were really doing and why.”
She can practically feel a little crackle of sexual energy in her privates from that memory, even after she just came. “So, there’s no way I can pretend I didn’t cum again when my daughter was halfway out of me, is there?” she asks, wanting to see how Heather will react to this. Cumming when having fingers in her vagina is one thing she might explain away, even if it was in the middle of labor. But cumming when she was in the middle of giving birth? To something as tough as a breech baby, no less? That was pretty extreme.
Her lover is quiet for a bit, making Maddie stew in anticipation of what she might say. If Heather knew what Maddie was really going through, she was nothing but supportive at the time, and if she’s ever felt any disapproval, she’s never shown a bit of it. Then again, it’s dawning on Maddie that she isn’t as good at reading Heather as the other way around.
“I gotta admit, Maddie...I’ve only ever heard of childbirth as the most painful thing a woman can go through, as wonderful as it is. I’ve heard the stories, I’ve seen the videos, I didn’t need convincing even before you wanted me as your supporter, and then as your camerawoman,” she says, shifting a little in her seat. “I’d think about that and go, ‘There’s no prospects of that now, but holy shit, that could be me someday.’”
Maddie manages to resist the urge to say she’s fantasized about that from time to time.
“It’s...a lot to wrap my head around. I would never’ve considered it was possible if it wasn’t for you. Even with the biggest masochists, it’s just...how?” She cocks her head a little at her lover, smiling curiously. “I don’t even think of you as much of a masochist, and we fuck plenty.”
She lightly bites her lip as she tries to think. Still a little lost in the buzz of such a great cum, she’s not really sure how to explain it. In fact, she’s not really sure she wants to. Some things are just too much to be put into words; they can only be experienced. But holy fuck, if she can even get Heather curious about it, she’s more than willing to play the long game and feed that curiosity until Heather wants in.
And if she can’t have that, she at least wants Heather to accept her.
“It’s...like...” she starts uncertainly. “Y’know what? I never would have thought it either. My first birth, I did it by accident.”
Heather snickers, “Heh. Now you’re pulling my leg.”
“No, really.”
“...Really?”
“Yeah. I was comparing labor to sex to cope with it. It worked...sort of. I cracked and wanted an epidural after a while...and I’m really, really glad I didn’t get one,” she lets out a lustful sigh, “because then when I was giving birth, it was as painful as they say it is...but then something happened that they don’t say.” She smiles at Heather. “The doctor reached up in there, and ‘painful’ doesn’t begin to describe it, but somehow, impossibly...I came. I came harder than I’d ever cum before or than I’d ever cum since until the second time I was giving birth. And I don’t know if it changed me or if it woke something up in me, but I was never the same.”
Heather doesn’t say anything. She’s looking at Maddie thoughtfully. Whether she’s curious, that’s questionable, but Maddie’s definitely given her something to think about. She must have been planning this ever since the birth, Maddie figures.
“I’ll...think about it,” she concedes, making Maddie smile wider. “It’s still waaay out there. But...and maybe it’s because it was specifically you...when you were pushing her out and somehow, impossibly, I saw you cum?” She licks her lips and huffs sultrily. “Ugh...if my hands had been free and I could have gotten away with it...you wouldn’t have been the only one.”
Now that’s a step in a direction Maddie was hoping to hear. “Then I got two things to say to that. One: Those videos you took of me? They’re all yours to enjoy if you want the real thing, and for you, I’d love to explore it with you, anytime and any way you like, whether I’m the mom or the doctor,” she says with a wink. “Two: Maybe I couldn’t fool you, but you know how much of an expert I can be at sneaking in some relief. I can give you some pointers there too.”
They share a laugh as Heather nods. “Like I said, I’ll think about it. But here’s something for you to think about, something else that’s been on my mind for a while.”
Maddie raises an eyebrow, looking forward to what else Heather might pleasantly surprise her with.
“Have you thought about us being a more committed thing?”
That is, indeed, a surprise. “Huh? We’re...not? I don’t just mean that it’s been a while since I’ve seen anyone else. You help out a ton with my kids, and it’s not like I let just anyone do that. I couldn’t still be going to school if it wasn’t for you. Hell, you’ve moved in with me, even.”
“Yeah, and that’s what I mean. We’re besties, we’re girlfriends, we’re lovers and all that, and I love it all. You even wanted me to be your labor support and camerawoman. You really trust me with a lot,” she says. “But what I mean is, where do you see this going long-term? Or where do you want this to go long-term? Would you want to keep doing what we’re doing, or would you...” she trails off, looking a bit nervous for the first time since this started, before she finds the words, “lemme put it this way. Less ‘my kids,’ more ‘our kids?’ Or at least ‘the kids?’”
And again, Maddie’s a bit at a loss for words, though at least this time it’s both of them in that situation. She wasn’t exactly ready to be talked to about her labor and birth kink, but it wasn’t hard to talk about, especially with Heather. This is kind of different, though.
She manages to ask, “Are you...asking if I’d...y’know?”
“No, I don’t know. We’re having this talk to clear the air, just say it.”
“Marry you?” Maddie feels a little flutter in her heart as she asks.
Fortunately, Heather looks a little flustered, herself, fidgeting and looking like she’s resisting the urge to glance away. “Or commit to being Mom and Mom, not Mom and Auntie Heather, if you get what I mean. If you’re up for making it a lifelong thing but aren’t sure about marriage.” She must pick up that Maddie doesn’t know yet, so she says, “I don’t need an answer right now! Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I wanna jump into...getting married tomorrow or something! I just, y’know, wanted to say that if you wanna get super serious...I do, too,” with a flustered smile.
She’s right; Maddie’s got to think about that. On the one hand, with her still in school and having young twins and a baby, she has a ton on her plate and Heather’s already been patient with her time constraints. She doesn’t need to test Heather’s patience further by saying she wants a serious relationship and then not having time for it. On the other hand, having Heather to not just spend time with but to specifically come home to, that has some definite appeal, and she’s never said that about anyone else.
Besides...
As much as Maddie’s looking forward to finishing her schooling and being the one enjoying the labors and births of other women, Heather’s a special case. She’s privy to Maddie’s most intimate secrets, things that even her fans from the camgirl website might suspect but don’t know for sure. Heather might actually want to be a part of her wildest fantasies.
And, if Maddie gets her way, someday Heather will experience what she was talking about for herself, and she’ll be there for every bit of it.
“I...don’t think...it’s the best time for that now with how life’s going,” she says, stumbling a bit over the words as she tries to be honest without letting Heather down, “but if you can wait for me to finish med school and see what life’s like when everything’s fully in place? We’ll see what happens in the meantime.”
Thankfully, she answers with a relieved sigh and, “I can do that,” before she gets off the chair to lean closer.
They smile at each other before they share a kiss. Quiet but lustful hums mix as Maddie enjoys the good feelings that come with their newly strengthened connection. It’s not exactly a new feeling, but it’s one she doesn’t get very often. She thinks she could do with feeling it more. A lot more.
At least, when the time comes.
When Heather pulls back, she steps away from the bed. “Now, one last thing.”
Maddie wonders what else Heather could possibly want to talk about, but first, she goes to get the plastic bag that she set aside when they came into the bedroom. She had already assumed it contained some surprise Heather wanted to try out when the first part of their kinky fun was over, and now she’s eager to see if she was right.
“Now that we’ve told each other some secrets and I know we both like what we hear...a lot...” she murmurs, opening the bag, “let’s explore this whole...birth kink some more.”
With that, she pulls out something that makes Maddie’s horny hormones flow again at the sight of it. One part of it has a hand pump, pressure gauge, and pressure release valve like she’d see on a hand-operated blood pressure cuff, including an air tube that connects it to its other part.
But that’s where the similarities end. Instead of a cuff, it connects to something about the size and shape of a lamp-sized light bulb, and she already knows what it’s for.
Heather grins widely, her bedroom eyes making it clear she knows exactly why Maddie would recognize this. “Yeah. You know what’s up,” she says as she steps back over.
“Fuck yeah, I do. That,” she points at the bulb, “goes in, it gets pumped up, and then you let it stretch you out to get ready for...birth,” she takes a deep breath to steady herself, “or...you’re not supposed to do this, but...you push it out.”
“Mmm hmmm,” she hums, her cheeks a little pink. “We got another hour before the kids have to be picked up, and I got a good feeling one of us isn’t gonna be walking right when that hour’s done, so it’s not gonna be whoever takes this for a test drive.” She leans in and kisses Maddie again. “I’ll coinflip you for who gets to break this bad girl in.”
“Heather,” Maddie pants, “you are the fucking best.”
This day just keeps getting better, and it’s not stopping here.
Whatever comes next for Madeline Anderson, both right now in the bedroom and years down the road, she has a lot to look forward to.
Why hello, Bunnies! 👋🏻🐰🥰 I am back with a mid-week drop and it's a commissioned story courtesy of my wonderful Vault member, @zenw2q — this one’s all theirs. Huge thanks for the killer concept (literally), and I hope you’re as obsessed with this stream-gone-feral as I was writing it. 💦👶📸
And if you're wanting to have a story custom written for you, my commissions are open! Check out details on this page 😍
Word Count: 3,691 words
Summary: Two heavily pregnant streamers face off live, trying to outlast each other through self-induced labor.
Author’s Notes/Warnings: MDNI. 18+ only. Contains extremely explicit content involving pregnancy kink, labor, childbirth, lactation, twin delivery, orgasmic birth, clitoral stimulation, public exposure, streaming/voyeurism, squatting/jumping-induced labor, competitive birth, breastfeeding after birth (non-sexual), overstretching, vibrator use, placenta delivery, messy gushes and intense vocalization throughout. Full crowning and detailed expulsions included. All participants are adults, and all content is consensual.
“Alright,” Rainych muttered, shifting on the exercise ball with a grunt. “Stream’s on. Mic check. Camera one—on me. Camera two—on your bloated ass, Knite.”
“Pregnant and rude,” Knite said, smirking as she pulled her hoodie sleeves up. “How’re you 41 weeks and still this bitchy?”
Rainych’s eyes flicked toward chat. It was already flooding with emotes. A little “🔥WaddleWar🔥” banner pulsed in the corner of the screen. Over two hundred thousand viewers were watching the feed go live.
She arched a brow. “How’re you carrying two breech twins and still pretending you’re winning this?”
Knite bounced once on the mat—high, her black pants tightening across her hips. Her heavy belly jostled under the hoodie, the taut curve of it pushing the fabric forward in one commanding bulge. “I don’t need to win. I just need to outlast you.”
Rainych snorted. Her hand pressed instinctively to the underside of her gravid belly, where the weight had started to drag low. “Macrosomia,” she muttered toward the mic. “Means fat-ass baby. Mine’s kicking my ribs and my cervix.”
Chat exploded.
“rainych leaking soon?” “knite boutta pop two water balloons 🫧” “who’s crowning first? bets on the breech behemoth”
“I’m eating the ghost peppers first,” Rainych said, grabbing the red dish in front of her. “And I’m not going easy.”
“Perfect,” Knite said. “The hotter you go, the faster you blow.”
The plate of bright red slices sat between them. Rainych grabbed one and bit down. She didn’t flinch.
Knite watched her chew with raised brows. “That one had seeds.”
Rainych swallowed. “All of them do.”
“Jesus.” Knite took one, hesitated, then shoved it whole into her mouth. Chewed once. “Mmfh—fuck—!”
Rainych’s smirk widened.
Her belly contracted. Not hard. Just a firm, pressing squeeze that made her shift her weight and hiss.
Knite clocked it. “You gettin’ tight already?”
“False labor,” Rainych said, rubbing low. “Happens all day. It’s cute you think that matters.”
Knite picked up another slice. “Let’s clean.”
Ten minutes later, they were squatting in sync—wiping baseboards, organizing wires under the desks, rearranging camera stands. Rainych’s shirt had pulled tight across her lower back. Her pink hijab clung to the back of her neck with sweat.
Knite was down on one knee, scooping old fan mail into a bin. “This is the dumbest shit we’ve ever done.”
“It’s your challenge,” Rainych grunted, squatting again. “Your rules.”
“I didn’t say you had to do it.”
“You said whoever holds her baby in longer wins.”
Knite paused. Her stomach was tightening.
Not just a clench. It rolled. She gripped the desk, breathing once—steady, shallow. Then laughed and pulled herself back upright.
“Mine are chill. They like games,” she said.
Rainych stood slowly, hand braced to her thigh. “Mine’s breech and pissed.”
Chat pinged hard.
“Rainy’s waddling like her waters boutta blow 😭😭” “knite’s got twins playin ping pong in there” “this is better than any birth vid I’ve ever paid for ngl”
Rainych sat again, legs wide, back arching to make room for the low-hanging weight of her belly. Her shirt had ridden up just enough to show the dark stretch of her underbelly—taut, full, glossy with sweat.
“Okay. Jump squats,” she said, voice lower now.
Knite raised a brow. “You serious?”
“Scared?”
Knite stood. “Get the mat. I’m not jumping on this hard floor.”
Rainych rose too. Slower. She swore under her breath as another contraction tugged deep in her lower back.
They jumped once. Twice. On the third, Rainych let out a breathy, “Haah—okay—”
“That didn’t sound fake,” Knite muttered.
Rainych’s jaw clenched. “It’s not active. I can still talk through them.”
Knite looked her over. Then jumped again—higher. She winced halfway down and palmed her side. “Mmngh—okay, that was a twofer.”
“Yeah?” Rainych looked almost pleased. “Babies getting ideas?”
“Shut up.” Knite leaned against the desk, breathing. “Just Braxton Hicks.”
Rainych eased herself back to the ball, wide-legged. One hand braced behind her, the other pressed to her vulva for just a second. “You’re leaking,” Knite said, watching the wet spot bloom.
Rainych glanced down, then back up. “Camera two didn’t catch that, did it?”
Knite grinned. “Oh it definitely did.”
Chat exploded again.
“SHE LEAKED” “WATERBENDING ACTIVATED 💦” “CLOSE UP CLOSE UP CLOSE UP”
Rainych exhaled, chest rising. “Still not labor. I’m fine.”
Knite’s brows lifted. “I give it two more jumps.”
Rainych didn’t jump again. She couldn’t if she tried.
She stayed planted on the ball, both hands gripping her thighs now. Her hips rolled. Not playful. Not performative. One long roll forward, then back. Then again, slower.
Knite crouched beside the mat, grabbing her water. Her hoodie clung damp across the curve of her belly. She adjusted it, then paused—frowned.
“You good?”
Rainych blew out a breath. “Nngh… think that one was real.”
Knite blinked. “Yeah?”
Rainych nodded once, then twice. “Low. Tight. Back to front.”
The chat box shifted.
“wait wait wait is it starting” “omg macrosomia mama’s about to pop 😳” “someone screenshot her face rn”
Rainych grimaced. “Still early. Don’t freak out.”
Her hips lifted again—off the ball this time. She rocked in the air, held the position, then dropped with a soft grunt. “Okay. Okay. That one wrapped around me…”
Knite’s brow furrowed. “Like contraction-wrap?”
Rainych nodded. “Mmhm. Wrapped and held. Not fake.”
She didn’t even hit full height before she landed and doubled forward. “Oh—fuck—”
Rainych looked up fast. “What.”
Knite didn’t answer. Her hand clamped to her belly, one foot scrambling back as she grunted again.
“Was that real?”
Knite just breathed. “It’s low,” she hissed. “That one was… fuck. Deep.”
Rainych stood, legs wide, one hand on her desk. “Talk to me.”
Knite nodded slowly. Then again. “That one pushed.”
“What do you mean pushed?”
Knite didn’t answer right away. She braced her elbows to her knees, squatting with her hoodie riding up, belly out and domed hard. “Baby A shoved down.”
Rainych’s eyes widened. “You’re at thirty-eight weeks.”
Knite glared. “You’re at forty-one. Don’t play moral high ground now.”
Rainych gripped the desk harder. “Mmh—god—okay…”
“What.”
“I just got one too.”
“Another?”
Rainych didn’t answer. She lowered herself slowly to the mat. Sat back, legs open, belly massive and low between her knees. “It’s not stopping.”
Knite looked at her. Really looked.
Rainych’s face had gone still. Lips parted. One hand on her belly, the other slowly bracing between her legs. Her breathing was thin and fast.
“Rainy…”
Rainych didn’t blink. “It’s not tightening and releasing. It’s pressing.”
“Down?”
Rainych nodded once, sharply. “So much pressure. Like… like he’s right there…”
They stayed like that. Thirty seconds. Maybe a minute.
Knite stood slowly. Her body felt heavier now—weighted at the hips, not just the spine. “We need to pick,” she said. “Do we cut the stream or let them watch this.”
Rainych looked at the screen. Then straight into her camera.
“Heads up, chat. I think we’re going in.”
Knite pulled her hoodie off. Underneath, her black tank top was soaked along the hem, clinging to the full, high stretch of her belly. She moved stiffly now from instinct.
“Okay. Mat’s clear. Keep it clean. I’m not birthing on dust bunnies.”
Rainych snorted and immediately winced. “Nnnngh—ohhh god—”
Knite’s head snapped toward her. Rainych was half-sitting, half-sprawled back, one leg drawn up.
Her voice had dropped—no longer joking. “That one was long,” she said. “Long and low and… fuck.”
“Was it pushy?”
Rainych hesitated. Then nodded. “Not full-on. But I needed to move. Couldn’t sit through it.”
Knite stepped close. “You okay if I start squatting again?”
Rainych waved a hand. “Do it. Just don’t fall on me.”
Knite grunted as she dropped into a deep squat. Her knees creaked. Her belly shifted forward—harder than she expected. Her eyes went wide.
“Oof—nnghh—ohh—that hit—”
Rainych looked at her. “Bad?”
Knite didn’t answer right away. She rocked forward, both hands to the floor.
Her breath caught.
Rainych’s eyes narrowed. “Knite?”
Knite’s voice was strained. “I think… baby A’s moving into my canal.”
Rainych sat upright. “Wait. Already?”
Knite braced to her hands and knees. “Fuck—it hurts—”
Chat pinged.
“she said canal holy shit it’s happening” “TWIN A DESCENDINGGG” “both of them boutta crown together 😭😭😭”
Rainych tried to shift, but the motion pulled another contraction from her—full-bodied, slow and grinding.
“Ahh—haaah—nngghhh—oh—”
She rocked back, one leg still bent, the other kicking slightly. Her hand flew between her thighs.
Knite looked up. “Are you pushing?!”
“No—maybe—I don’t know—he’s bearing down—”
Knite dragged herself upright, sweat dripping. “You’re not leaving me behind.”
Rainych barked a laugh. “Oh fuck you—”
“Not without me,” Knite panted. “If you’re crowning, I’m right there too.”
Rainych’s belly shifted—lower. She felt it. Her pelvis unlocked.
Then the smallest warm gush.
She looked down.
The wet was clear, slow, and steady.
“...Knite.”
Knite turned.
Rainych met her eyes.
“My water just broke.”
Rainych’s breath hitched sharp.
Then came the sound. A slick, wet plop right onto the mat.
She gasped.
“Shit—shit—shit—”
Knite scrambled over. Her hand barely brushed Rainych’s thigh before she saw it.
A thick gush of amniotic fluid had soaked through Rainych’s black pants and was now leaking down her inner thighs, puddling into the carpet under her. Her legs were open. Her back arched.
And her belly—still huge, still pulled forward—had dropped.
Rainych’s mouth was open. Her hands had flown behind her, bracing against the floor as she panted through it.
“Ahh—haaah—ngggh—he’s coming—I can’t—”
Knite knelt beside her. “You’re descending. I can see it. Are you pushing?”
“I’m not!” Rainych yelled. “He’s sliding—he’s doing it on his own—”
The camera caught everything: Rainych’s soaked pants stretched wide around her thighs, the dark wetness spreading as her pelvis tilted up, involuntary and desperate. She moaned again, louder now—raw and guttural.
Knite flinched at the sound.
Because her own belly tightened—hard.
She dropped to her knees.
“Oh—oh shit—oh fuck—Rainy—I feel his feet.”
Rainych’s eyes shot to her. “What?!”
“Baby A,” Knite gasped. “He’s breech—his feet are pushing into my canal—I can feel them stretching me—”
Rainych’s mouth opened again but no sound came out.
Then—
“NNNGHHH—oh god—oh fuck—”
She bore down.
It wasn’t planned.
Her body took over.
There was another thick squelch—then a scream.
“AAHHH—HE’S CROWNING—fuck—”
Knite crawled to her side, eyes wide.
Rainych’s pants were peeled back by her own thighs now—bunched mid-thigh, slicked with birth fluid. Her vulva bulged—glossy, spread, teardropping around the unmistakable round stretch of her baby’s head, thick and slowly opening her wider.
“Oh my god,” Knite breathed.
Rainych was crying now—face scrunched, hands gripping behind her knees. “It hurts—he’s huge—nnnnhhh—ohhhh—”
“Stay with it,” Knite said, breath shaky. “You’ve got the crown—he’s right there.”
Rainych shook her head wildly. “He’s not moving! He’s stuck—he’s just sitting there!”
Knite’s face twisted with a groan of her own. She rocked forward again, elbows hitting the floor.
“I—I think his feet are out,” she gasped.
Rainych blinked fast. “What?!”
Knite groaned. “He’s breech. He kicked out. I felt him slip through—his feet are just hanging in me—”
Her hand pressed under her belly.
Rainych’s voice pitched up again.
“Oh god—nnghh—he’s stretching me—aaaahhh—!”
Knite glanced down.
Rainych’s head was half-out—crowning thick, her lips stretched in a wet ring around the baby’s scalp. Fluids slicked down her thighs and pooled under her.
“Rainy—”
“DON’T TALK,” Rainych sobbed. “Push with me or shut up—”
Knite bit back a moan—then gasped.
The fullness was shifting.
“Okay—okay—fuck—I’m gonna push—I have to—”
They both bore down.
The stream captured everything—two bodies in tandem, one with a glistening crown peeking, the other with her twins' feet breaching and trembling in place.
And with a long, sticky squelch, her baby slipped further.
A wet plop, louder this time.
And the head—fully crowned.
Her lips stretched wide, her clit swollen and flushed, the head resting fully between her thighs with her perineum still taut and trembling.
“OOOHHH—oh my god—”
Knite was panting beside her.
She reached down between her own legs.
“Rainy—my baby’s dangling.”
Rainych was still open—wide, dripping, breath hitching with every tiny tremble of the head between her thighs. Her body refused to finish. The crown sat there—glistening, round, stretching her soft and slow.
She gasped.
“Fuck—he’s stuck—won’t move—”
Knite glanced up, red-faced, hips twitching. She was still bent forward, both knees shaking.
“You need a contraction—”
“I need to come,” Rainych snapped.
Her hand slid fast between her thighs. Middle and ring fingers pressed hard to her clit, slippery with birth fluids, already so swollen it bounced under the pressure.
Knite froze. “You’re—serious?”
Rainych moaned—head rolling back, chest heaving.
“I need it—he’s not sliding—he’s sitting in me like a plug—oh god—oh fuck—”
Her other hand went to her breast, groping under the soaked striped shirt. She tugged her bra down, pinched one nipple hard.
The effect was immediate. Her thighs twitched. Her hips rocked.
Knite could see it—the way Rainych’s labia flexed, the top of the baby’s head pulsing with each shallow roll.
“Oh—haaah—aaaah fuck—yes—more—”
She rolled her clit faster, moaning deep now, nipples tight, belly contracting.
Knite whimpered.
Because the sight of it—the primal mess of it—made her own canal clench.
Her baby shifted again—feet twisting, hips stretching.
“Oh fuck—I feel him turning—he’s going shoulders down—”
Rainych groaned louder. “Do it—play with it, Knite—get him out—ahh—nnnnghh—!”
Knite’s hand slid between her legs.
She wasn’t graceful. She was panting, messy, soaked in sweat and birth fluids, but she found her clit and rubbed. Hard.
Rainych cried out again—voice cracking. “YES—FUCK—YES—I’m coming—”
The orgasm crashed through her.
Her belly clenched.
Her hips bucked.
And the baby slid out—shoulders first, thick and slow, then the chest, soft ribs stretching her open with a loud, wet squelch.
“NNNNGH—AAAHHHHH—”
A slippery pop, then a long, glossy slide between her thighs.
The body dropped with a gushy plop onto the mat, limbs curled, cord still pulsing.
Rainych collapsed back, gasping, tears streaking her cheeks.
“...holy fuck…”
Knite moaned sharply.
Her orgasm hit mid-push—her legs spread, toes curling, and her baby’s hips forced wide open with the pressure.
Rainych blinked fast, breath coming in short, erratic bursts. Her baby lay slippery and steaming between her thighs, one tiny fist twitching, mouth parting to cry.
Her hands were trembling as she scooped him up.
He was still attached—cord glistening, thick and pulsing from her raw, gaping slit.
Rainych didn’t care.
She shifted back slowly, shoulders braced, thighs spread wide as she dragged herself to lean against the desk leg. The move angled her hips up—exposing everything.
Her pussy was blown wide, flushed and glistening, with the cord still trailing between her folds. Past it, deep inside, the dark flush of placenta hadn’t moved yet—fat, soft, still clinging.
She brought the baby to her chest.
He latched with one little snuffle, lips sealing around her nipple. Her shirt was half off. The hijab pushed back. Milk leaked down his chin.
And her pussy stayed open.
Fully in frame.
Chat exploded.
“SHE’S STILL ATTACHED 😳” “cord in pussy cam 😭😭” “baby feedin placenta peakin we LIVE”
Rainych glanced sideways. “Camera two’s got the whole thing?”
Knite, still on hands and knees, nodded shakily. “Yeah. You’re… fuck… you’re wide.”
Rainych smirked faintly. “Don’t be jealous.”
Knite groaned. “I’m not jealous. I’m crowning.”
Rainych looked down.
Knite had rolled onto her back, black pants shoved to her knees. Her belly was still full with Baby B, but between her thighs, Baby A’s body hung slick and limp—shoulders out, chest resting on the mat.
And her pussy?
It was stretched.
Wide. Glossy. Twitching.
The head was almost out—but not quite.
Just the upper face: one closed eye, nose flattened, the curve of the forehead lodged tight against her rim.
Rainych stared.
“Ohhh fuck—he’s stuck.”
Knite gasped. “It’s so much—he won’t slide—he’s wedged—”
Rainych reached one hand down again, rolling her own nipple gently as the baby suckled.
“Try again,” she said. “Touch yourself.”
Knite’s head snapped sideways. “What?”
“You need to come again.”
Knite’s legs twitched. “I can’t—he’s in me—his face is in me—”
“Exactly,” Rainych said, voice low. “He’s making you feel everything.”
Knite whimpered.
Her hand slid down anyway.
She rubbed her clit once.
Twice.
Then gasped.
“Ohh—ohhhh fuck—”
Rainych watched.
Watched the way Knite’s fingers moved faster, the way her hips rolled involuntarily, the way her pussy clenched around that stuck, slippery head—
—and then opened wider.
Knite moaned.
Louder.
Her whole body trembled.
And as her orgasm hit—
“NNNNNGHHHH—AAAHHH—YES—”
—Baby A slid free.
A thick, gushing squelch echoed off the mat.
Head, then neck, then body, all at once.
Rainych laughed, breathless.
“That’s how you win.”
Knite lay sprawled, legs wide, pussy still twitching, fluids slicking the inside of her thighs. The baby lay between her knees, still attached, his head steaming against the cool air.
She blinked at the camera.
Chat went feral.
“TWINS COMING IN HD 💦” “god i wish that were me fr” “rainy with the cord cam knite with the facestuck finale?? we been blessed”
Rainych looked down at her still-leaking pussy, placenta bulging faintly inside.
“Don’t end the stream yet,” she said. “We haven’t shown them everything.”
Rainych moaned low, head tilted back, her baby still nursing, her pussy still parted around the thick cord.
Then—
A pressure shift. Deep and dull.
She gasped. “Placenta’s *coming—nnnghh—”
She braced again, both legs spread wide, fingers splayed behind her. Her core contracted—wet and slow—and with a long, sticky slide, the placenta slithered free.
It landed on the mat with a fat, sloppy plop, the cord still twitching, a trail of fluid seeping from her wide, quivering folds.
“God. That was huge. It felt so good… I think I just came again a little…”
Knite whimpered from the floor.
“Mine’s not even close to done.”
Rainych looked over.
Knite’s thighs were shaking. Baby A was now latched to her chest, greedily suckling, but her belly was still taut—full.
Then it shifted.
A huge lurch, forward and down.
Knite’s whole body spasmed.
“AHHH—he’s dropping! Baby B—he’s coming now—!”
Rainych crawled toward her. “Okay—okay—don’t fight it. You need to push.”
“I can’t!” Knite gasped. “He’s bigger—he’s so much bigger—”
Rainych glanced under her.
Her jaw dropped.
Knite’s pussy was swelling wide again—already bulging—but this time with a massive breech.
One ass cheek first. Then the other.
He wasn’t waiting.
Rainych scooped her baby and settled him between Knite’s breasts.
Rainych reached into the drawer behind her and pulled out a small pink vibe. With a smile, she clicked it on and it hummed to life.
“Lift your hips,” she ordered.
Knite moaned. “Rainy—what are you—”
“Trust me.”
Rainych pressed the vibrator directly to her clit.
Knite screamed.
“YES—YES—FUCK—OH MY GOD—”
Her pussy clamped hard. Then bloomed.
Baby B shot forward.
Hips and legs expelled in a sudden, gushing eruption—amniotic fluid spraying across the mat, splashing both their thighs, soaking Knite’s hoodie in a wide, wet arc.
“AHHH—HE’S STILL IN ME—HIS HEAD—STUCK—”
Rainych didn’t let up.
She circled the vibe harder, faster, watching Knite’s body quake.
“You need to come again. It’s the only way.”
Knite sobbed, helpless, pinned wide.
“I—fuck—I’m gonna—I can’t—”
“YES you can—feel him—ride it—let it go—”
Knite’s scream built in her chest.
She came again—hard—legs locking, back arching off the floor.
And with that final, explosive climax—
Baby B’s head shot out in a burst of thick, hot fluid.
It splashed against the mat, droplets hitting Rainych’s calves.
The baby lay sprawled, twitching, pink and covered in vernix.
Rainych clicked the vibe off and Knite collapsed back.
Everything went still except the soft suckling noises from both babies—one on each of Knite’s breast.
Rainych reached for Baby B and patted its back until it cried and she latched it onto one of her engorged, leaking breasts.
Knite’s body was wrecked. Beautiful. Still quivering. Her pussy still slack, open, the twins’ cords twitching against her leg.
The room was soaked — bodies, mats, carpet, clothes — drenched with sweat and birth and milk and slick.
And the camera was still on.
Still blinking red.
Still live.
Chat had detonated.
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME 😭😭😭😭” “pussy cam? cord cam? MILK CAM??” “give these queens an award. an OSCAR. a BIRTH NOBEL”
Rainych blinked, Baby B still latched on to her breast, when reached toward the laptop, fingers shaky, her thigh still leaking where the placenta had slid free earlier.
The “Tip Jar” window was flooding—lines and lines of usernames and numbers, every second a new chime.
She stared.
“Knite.”
Knite didn’t open her eyes. “Mm?”
Rainych laughed. “We cleared six digits.”
Knite blinked up at the ceiling. “Holy fuck.”
They both started giggling. Too breathless to control it. Still twitching, bodies wrecked, tits out, cords attached, babies suckling lazily on both chests.
Rainych wiped her forehead. “Thank you, chat,” she panted. “We don’t deserve you.”
Knite grinned. “We really don’t.”
Rainych sat up straighter. The vibe was still beside her knee, slick and silent. The room smelled like milk, sex, and afterbirth.
She squinted at the stream comments, scanning for something coherent.
Then read aloud: “One of them said... ‘Do it again.’”
Knite tilted her head. “Again?”
Rainych looked over at her. Then grinned. “Yeah.”
Knite snorted. “God.”
Another tip pinged.
Then another.
The suggestion kept repeating.
“GET KNOCKED UP AGAIN” “REMAKE THE STREAM BUT BIGGER” “RACE TO TRIPLETS”
Rainych met Knite’s eyes.
“We doing this?”
Knite let her head fall back with a groan.
Then grinned.
“Fuck it. I’ll find a donor tomorrow.”
Rainych laughed, still out of breath.
“Same.”
They both looked at the camera, tits out, cords still hanging, mats soaked in birth.
Rainych winked.
“See you again in ten months.”
--------
Hope you enjoyed reading this commissioned story!
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Thank you all again—here’s to more stories, more milestones, and maybe… more babies? 😉
Finally, a new story for the blog. One of my backlog that needed editing. First I have to acknowledge @allkindsofpreg for her usual contributions to my works, and I want to introduce @highlyrelevantnumber as well who has helped with editing this last piece. Many thanks to both of you, I would certainly not be anywhere near productive without you both! However, on with the story...
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"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to today's episode of "Lifestyles", the officially recorded highest rated show on air covering current affairs and entertainment. I'm your host, Gabby Sinclair, and today I'm joined by our special guest - celebrated author of the wonderful series of books entitled "Motherhood" Jessica Shallows."
The host had practiced polish to her style. I watched as she gave a few moments to allow for the canned clapping to be added by the mixer desk back in the office - in reality, we were in a room with the two of us, a camera operator, and the understanding that there would be a need for a whole lot of post-processing to go to get the show ready for the screen.
I felt uncomfortable in my seat. Truth be told, I was not really one for public spectacle. I was an author, a doula - and I felt most comfortable either behind a screen typing away, or in a delivery room holding a nervous mother-to-be's hand as she undertook a major journey in her life.
Another major reason for my lack of comfort was the fact that I was 9 months pregnant - and it was very obvious. The lady who had helped hundreds of babies be brought into the world was finally becoming a mother herself. With my enforced maternity leave, I had decided to put the finishing touches to my latest book so the proceeds could help smooth out the lack of money coming into the home.
My mind was on other things, though. 30 minutes ago I was in the dressing room getting my makeup done by the team, having a bit of small talk with Gabby - when I felt a twinge. I knew it was my first baby, and it would take time... but the twinges had seemed to become all the more noticeable when the cameras were pointing right at my face. I was struggling to decide if it was nerves… or something more.
"So, Jessica" asked Gabby - the show was underway - "You have a five-book series so far recounting the many births you have attended, and they have become best sellers all over the globe. Now you're readying for undertaking the same journey yourself. Tell me - how does it feel to be at the other end of the action, so to speak?"
I smiled as my hand moved to my bump as I felt another heave. I just hoped that I could get through this interview. I had plenty of time, I was sure of it.
“Well, it’s a beautiful experience, of course,” I said, waiting for her to nod in agreement, even though she didn’t have any kids. “If your idea of beauty includes constant nausea and the walking speed of a centenarian,” I added, hoping that it came off as humorous and relatable rather than bitter and exhausted.
She chuckled appropriately and watched as I shifted yet again in my chair. “Getting down to the finish line now, yeah? Any details on your own birth plan you want to share?”
I absolutely did not want to describe to however many thousands or millions of people that would see this all the intimate and vulnerable details of how I was intending to give birth, so I just said, “I’ve been witness to the process enough times to know that whatever plan I may have, babies tend to have plans of their own.”
As if to make a point, my belly tightened again, and my smile may have turned a bit tight as I attempted to hide a wince.
“Perhaps we’ll read all about it in your next book, then,” Gabby proposed, waiting until I gave a non-committal shrug before moving on. “Speaking of which… I’m sure most of our audience has heard of your work, but for anyone who might not know, why don’t you tell us a little about what your series is about and the reason you started writing it?”
I took another few seconds to catch my breath—maybe it just looked like I was composing my thoughts—and then recited the boiler plate answer I’d given dozens of times before. “Well, my mother was a midwife, and I realized at a very young age that the education I received about women’s bodies and experiences was vastly different from that of my peers. There was always so much fear and mystery and shame whenever these kinds of topics came up, and it didn’t make sense to innocent little Jessica who had seen and heard only the power and strength and beauty in it all.” A foot jutted out against the wall of my stomach, and I patted the spot, still somewhat in awe of what my body was capable of doing.
“So you wanted to show that the journey of becoming a mother is something to celebrate, not fear?”
A particularly stabbing pain wrapped around my lower back, and I arched against the chair with a small hiss, my very round stomach spilling even more gratuitously over my lap.
“Are you alright, Jessica?” Gabby asked, practiced professionalism slipping into genuine concern. “Maybe we can find you a pillow or something to make you more comfortable.”
I shook my head, not wanting to prolong the interview. “No, thank you. Just running out of room in there, you know?” She didn’t quite look like she believed me, but I continued, answering her earlier question. “I would say it’s less about celebration and more about normalization. There’s nothing especially dramatic or unique about the women in my books, but because we as a society don’t bring up things like placentas and episiotomies and cervixes in ‘polite’ conversation, I figured it would be less intimidating, less clinical, coming from actual lived experiences.”
“Kind of like regaining that tribal knowledge of womanhood.”
“Exactly!” My sudden excitement triggered another pain, somehow even worse than the last one, and I found it ironic that all that tribal knowledge seemed to be failing me now. Things were intensifying too much too quickly. I’d heard about precipitous labours but never attended one—the few opportunities had passed before I could even arrive.
I took a breath, willed myself to calm down. I had never actually been through labor before; maybe this was all normal. Maybe it wasn’t even labor. Surely, I was just jumping to conclusions…
"So do you have any fond memories of any particular births?" came the next question from Gabby.
"Let me think" I pondered a moment, my brain part-focused on the ache that had come back, once more, around my midsection.
"I know a good one" I added. "It was a young, first-time mother. Her pregnancy was an accident. But there was one thing evident in the room as she came in - she was strong. She was hard - knew a life of hard knocks. She suffered her labour like a champ - she hardly made a sound, thinking showing any weakness would be a failing for her. She knew she couldn't ride things out like that for the full duration of the labour. She asked permission to cry out. The girl felt she needed to be allowed to make noise and deal with something that pretty much every mother I have dealt with just allowed to come naturally."
I took a moment to reminisce. "When she finally got the head out, screaming like a banshee, really letting herself go, she reached down and felt the baby for the first time. It was right then I saw love in her eyes. As she took a moment to rest before she had to push out the shoulders and the body she told me, with tears in her eyes that this baby would be the love of her life. And it was - we still keep in touch. In fact, I hope to deliver her second baby after I get back from my maternity leave. She's married now and made a decent life for herself. A real star of the schools PTA it seems!"
My hand absentmindedly pressed into the side of my belly, as the tightening sensation drew across it once again. I blew out a small breath.
"Everything OK?" asked Gabby.
I nodded my head. "Just late-stage pregnancy. Not the easiest thing to sit still when junior wants to poke you in every internal crevice possible." I gave a weak laugh as my hand pressed harder against the aching band of tightening muscle around my middle.
"If it helps..." offered Gabby "we can stand. That's the beauty of our set, we can just move around to suit - we often chat in front of the screen when a guest wants to chat about a video or presentation."
"That would be lovely" I said, as I put my hands on the sides of the chair and pushed myself up to my feet, smoothing my dress down around my knees. I felt like I was a bit of a spectacle on camera trying to get up, but at least I managed it somewhat gracefully.
"Can you do some editing to make me look more graceful?" I asked Gabby as she stood up and moved next to me.
"Of course, my dear. One of the beauties of this not going out live - editing can solve a multitude of sins!" came the smiling voice of Gabby next to me.
It wasn’t a huge studio, and I had to take extra care around all the lights and camera equipment as my huge belly swung around, but moving around definitely helped alleviate some of the ache. Of course, instead it now felt like the baby’s head could just fall out at any moment, but rationally I knew it wouldn’t be that easy—no one would ever need my services if it was.
“So, Jessica—do you want to give us a sneak peek into this latest release?” Gabby asked, trying to move the interview along.
I paused to grip the back of a chair, channeling the tightness in my midsection into my grip. “Sure, yeah. It’s really a story of endurance.” I bowed my head, taking in a few puffs of air, and then straightened. “It was the longest birth I’d ever attended. This young mother was in labor for days.”
“And you stayed by her side that entire time?” she asked incredulously.
“Most of it, yeah,” I said, somewhat out of breath. “It helps everyone involved to know that the mother always has someone by her side to support and encourage her. Takes the pressure off and makes it a more enjoyable experience overall.”
I must not have been masking my wince very well because Gabby paused the interview yet again. “Are you sure you’re alright? We can schedule this for another time if you’re not feeling up for it.”
I shook my head—it had already taken almost a year to set up this time slot; if we tried to reschedule, I’d likely already be back to work with a nursing child to take care of. I swiped the bottle of water left out for guests on the side table and pointed to it. “Just need a little water and a lot of movement.”
Ever the professional, Gabby took what she was given and followed it down a new path. “Perfect! You can demonstrate some of the positions you describe in your book.”
“Most of them are doula-assisted and require another person…”
She raised her hand like the solution was obvious. “I’m another person.”
“Oh. Right.” It would be a little awkward, using myself as a test dummy with someone I’d only just met, but I had to admit I was curious. “Now I guess we’ll both be ‘on the other side of the action’,” I joked, echoing her own words back to her.
She smirked at that, seeming to like the challenge. “Alright, what do you want to try first?”
“Do you, by any chance, have something I can kneel on?” I asked, as my hands migrated around to my back and pressed, forcing me to jut out my belly in turn. The moment of relief felt like heaven.
“Let me see…” pondered Gabby. As she looked around, the cameraman pointed to the chairs we were previously on. “Oh yeah, we can just remove the cushion from the seat.”
I nodded. “That will be good. Is there anywhere sturdy I can lean against?”
Gabby’s eyes looked around the room once more. Aside from the two chairs and a table in between them, the rest of the room was mainly populated by electronics and lighting equipment. Nothing that anyone would classify as ‘sturdy.’
Whilst Gabby scanned the room, I did some mental arithmetic. It had only been an hour, and I was already at the point where contractions were established. I hadn’t been timing them, but they certainly felt 5 minutes apart at this point. I didn’t think it was sensible to get Gabby or the cameraman to do a cervical check to make certain, but I had to be prepared in case things took a rapid turn. I inwardly sighed. I had the choice to cancel and go home - if I could make it driving in my current state, or this could be an excellent marketing opportunity for the business. It would just mean giving birth on camera. That couldn’t be so bad, could it? The business didn’t have any similar promotional material as all the videos of births I’d attended were kept by the parents.
“Can I make a suggestion?” I spoke as Gabby gave up looking.
“Sure my dear, I’m always open to suggestions.”
“How about I call my husband? He’s certainly sturdy. Most of the time the labouring positions I recommend involve partners to be present anyway - the flow of oxytocin is helped when you feel loved and supported.”
Gabby nodded. “How far away is he? We’re not in any real rush as this is the only recording of the day, but I’m just thinking of practicalities here - how about using Matt, our cameraman - he’s here right now and I’m sure we could set the camera up to capture us all on the stage without him needing to move it?”
I panicked, causing the first word to come out much louder than expected. “No… please. I know he’s just down the road, we were going to get food after the recording. I’d feel more comfortable with him, some of these positions can get quite… intimate.”
Gabby nodded, and I heard Matt breathe a sigh of relief - he certainly didn’t want to be in front of the camera.
I scurried - well, waddled - out of the studio, giving a polite nod to the receptionist outside as I headed to the green room. Opening my purse to grab my phone, I texted the following:
“SOS. Baby coming? Get here.”
I had to take a moment to rest, the next contraction grabbing me in its grip before I had a chance to leave the room. By the time it had finished, my phone had buzzed.
“Shit. On my way. We going home?” I left that unanswered.
I headed back, pushing my phone down my bra so I could keep it with me, and told the receptionist to expect my husband in a few minutes.
As I stepped back into the room and gave Gabby a thumbs up gesture, I suggested “until he gets here, how about some upright movements, like slow dancing? That’s great for loosening the hips and stretching out some key muscles during the labour process.”
Gabby stood in front of me awkwardly as I placed her hands on my hips and put mine on her shoulders. “Now, I’m going to have you put gentle pressure on my hips, squeezing lightly where I have them placed.” She must have been nervous, as her grip tightened painfully, but relaxed when she noticed my wince. “There, that’s good,” I said when she’d found an appropriate pressure.
“It’s not too much?” she asked, just to make sure I wasn’t humoring her after her first attempt.
I shook my head. “No. But communication is key, especially in the earlier stages of labor while talking isn’t too difficult yet. Once it is, hopefully the supporting partners understand the mother well enough that they can recognize what her noises and movements mean and anticipate what she needs without having to verbalize everything.”
My fingers tightened slightly on Gabby’s shoulders as another contraction ramped up and my head dipped low between us—if we were more comfortable with each other, it would be resting on her chest as she helped support my weight.
“And what are you doing now?” she asked to the back of my head.
I tried to bite back any irritation—it’s not like Gabby knew this was anything more than a demonstration—and catch my breath enough to answer. Through gritted teeth I managed, “When a laboring mother is having a contraction, bending and swaying can take some of the pressure off her lower back and overall just makes it easier to breathe and focus.”
“Oh, so you’re ’having a contraction’ right now.” I could hear the air quotes in her tone, but nodded anyway. “Then would something like this maybe feel good for you?”
She repositioned her hands slightly, somehow both squeezing and massaging the tense muscles and I let out an obscene sound that probably belonged more in a barnyard than a television studio.
Gabby chuckled. “I guess so.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, slightly embarrassed now that the contraction was easing up, and looked up at her. “Baby’s pretty heavy. You’re sure you’ve never done this before? That was masterful.”
She beamed at the compliment. “I do like to think I have a way of observing and playing off of my guests honestly in the moment.”
I briefly detailed the anatomical flow of contractions and why what I was doing and what she did worked so well to take the edge off, but it wasn’t long before we returned to our previous positions. My noises were becoming a little too realistic, but before Gabby could comment there was the sound of a door being flung open.
“I guess my husband is here,” I said into Gabby’s chest.
She hummed in affirmation, but then asked, “Why does he look like he misplaced his child at an amusement park?”
I supposed I had my own lack of text response to blame for that.
Matt looked over to see who everyone was talking about. Stood framed in the doorway was a 6 foot 6 giant of a man, and then as he glanced back at me and my relatively tiny 5 foot 3 inch frame… his brain suddenly realised just why my pregnant belly was so, so big.
In the doorway the man stood with a baby carrier / car seat in one hand and a bag in the other.
Both Matt and Gabby recognised him immediately. Matt was the first to speak.
“Bruce Curtis… whoa man. I’m a major fan.”
Bruce was a well-known tennis player, but he was not one for public appearances and was very private. Up until this point the marriage of a world class sportsman and a celebrated childbirth professional and author had not been public knowledge.
“Hi. Thanks. Just here to see my wife” he announced, as he spotted me in Gabby's arms. “Got your birth bag Jess… don’t know what you would need.”
Before anyone could comment on the obvious reference of birth bag to question it, I moaned out loud, grasping hard onto Gabby’s clothing as the worst pain yet held on to my midsection, feeling something like I was being squeezed in every point at once.
It took a monumental effort to stay standing.
Gabby’s eyes went wide with shock as she suddenly spurted out “wait… this is real?”
I was left short of breath after the surprise contraction, but managed a hum to at least acknowledge the fact that yes, I was in labour.
Surprisingly Gabby’s eyes lit up and her lips parted with a grin. “This… is… amazing! Wait… you’re bringing your bag here… does that mean you aren’t heading off? Are we getting an exclusive first look at the newest addition to your family?”
I managed to raise my head enough to look Gabby in the eyes. I certainly hadn’t recovered from the last contraction and was mentally trying to figure out if I had gone insane, but I confirmed it.
“Yeah. I think I’m having a precipitous labor. In the last hour I’ve experienced things that often take 8… maybe 10 hours for a first-time mother. I don’t think I can make it back home in time. Please help me.” My tone was pleading as much as anything else, all semblance of hiding the truth now gone.
In between all of this, Bruce had placed the bag and baby carrier on the ground and made his way over to me, concern evident in his eyes. He took me in his arms as I turned away from Gabby and gave me an embrace that had his long arms wrapped tight around me, even with the large mound at my midsection taking up space between us.
“Here we go baby. Daddy’s here” he spoke softly to me. Gabby and Matt just looked at each other, shock and confusion stilling their movement. They were unsure what to do given the situation, it certainly wasn’t what they were expecting to happen at the start of the show.
I tried not to panic. The contractions were already right on top of each other and at this rate it likely wouldn’t be long before I was beyond words and coherent sentences.
“I’m sorry, precipitous labor?” Gabby said. “What does that mean? Is it dangerous? Do we need to call an ambulance?”
It was riskier, but this was happening right here right now one way or another, and I wasn’t going to tell her that.
“A precipitous labor is when labor and delivery happen very quickly, a couple hours from start to finish,” Bruce supplied, saving me from having to answer. Gabby and Matt must have worn some shocked expression because he added, “What? My wife likes to talk about her work.”
I could almost hear the two of them putting Bruce on an even loftier pedestal. But I couldn’t blame them—he was pretty perfect. Other than his genetics producing a freakishly large fetus that I would somehow now need to birth with very little time for my body to stretch and prepare.
“Alright, what can we do?” Gabby asked, fully on board with her unexpected involvement.
I gasped and buried my face into Bruce’s chest as he held up a finger to indicate that they would need to wait a minute for an answer. I tried to breathe and relax like I’d instructed so many mothers before me, but the pain and pressure had just gotten so intense so quickly. I just barely managed to keep from crying out as the wave crested and broke, but I wasn’t sure how much more I could endure calmly and collectedly.
My throat was hoarse, and I cleared it before turning to answer. “Once my water breaks, the baby’s head will descend quickly. The baby is big,” I looked accusatorially up at Bruce for the 11-12 pound range we were given as an estimate, “and I would like to open and prepare my body as much as possible to limit the possibility of complications.”
The next contraction snuck up on me, and I groaned, my knees bending as I leaned forward. Gabby instinctively held out her arms and I grabbed onto her forearms as I got down into a squat. But the position only increased the internal pressure and I yelped, shaking my head. She pulled me up, with Bruce’s help, and I went back to ‘slow dancing’ with her while Bruce held me from behind, lifting some of the weight of my massive belly from my spine.
I pointed at the chair and Bruce dragged it over to me. With some more assistance, I got one leg up onto the chair in an almost side lunge. It was a little awkward, but I loved how open it made me feel.
“Why do you keep changing positions? And why is this one good?” Gabby asked, and I wasn’t sure whether she was still in interview mode or just genuinely curious and invested now.
“This allows my pelvis to really open up, while also maintaining freedom of movement if I need to adjust. Baby needs to get into position too, and the more I move, the easier that is.”
Even this quick explanation was almost too much for me because now I was winded going into the next contraction. There really was no buildup for them, they just crashed full force into me, and I was sure I would’ve lost my balance if Bruce and Gabby didn’t have me on both sides.
Despite all my breath work and vocalizations, my body was pushing against something on its own and I cried out as it pressed behind and stretched my unprepared opening.
“What is it, baby?” Bruce asked softly, unfazed by my animalistic noises.
I panted in an attempt to keep my body’s instincts in check. “Need. Someone. To check,” I managed between puffs of air.
“I don’t suppose you’re okay with nudity on this show?” Bruce asked.
There was a pause, then Gabby said, “We can edit it in post.”
I hiked up my dress, gathering the fabric at the top of my oversized mound. As I waited for Gabby and Bruce to decide who would do the honors, I could only hope that it was just the intact amniotic sac and not the baby’s head.
I could tell Gabby was itching to get involved, but Bruce was the first to speak.
“Let’s get this leg down and get those knickers off” he said, almost playfully, considering the circumstances.
He tapped me on the raised knee which was perched on the chair for emphasis.
I groaned as I dropped my leg to the floor, but quick as a flash, Bruce had dragged my underwear to the floor, and bundled it up into a ball in his fist and stuffed it into his pocket.
“There we go. First step completed. Now onto the appetiser”. He was still smiling, completely unfazed, wiggling a finger in the air. “Let’s just hope we get some time to digest before it’s time for the main course!”
I cough-laughed, his lighthearted attitude helping alleviate the stress, as Gabby was caught giggling.
My leg got lifted onto the chair again as Bruce directed my hand onto his shoulder, and he got down to his knees. I suddenly felt the slip of 2 fingers enter into me as I grunted “contraction” and gripped tight hold of the polo top he was wearing.
His fingers continued to press in deeper, as my moan reached a crescendo, the contraction rapid and rough in its approach.
Suddenly there was a release, and water gushed down Bruce’s arm. I turned red, and let out a yelp at the unexpected sensation.
Bruce looked up apologetically. “Your waters were bulging. I might have been a bit rough. Sorry, baby!”
At the same time, Gabby flinched at the sight of the liquid pooling around my feet. “What’s that?” She asked.
I took a deep, steadying breath. Taking a moment longer I started, “It’s amniotic fluid. Think of it like a shock absorber around your baby. Keeps it safe in the womb.” Gabby had nodded, taking in the knowledge whilst staring at the pool which was now soaking into the carpet.
I continued. “It’s good that it’s clear. No sign of blood or meconium is positive.”
“And that is…?” Asked Gabby.
“Baby’s first poop” came the voice of Bruce as I responded by patting him on the shoulder, my fingers no longer clenched.
With the water bag burst, I felt Bruce’s probing fingers within me. I gave a little gasp as Bruce’s fingers slid out from between my legs and he announced “You’re about 7 or 8. Almost go time.”
My head shook “it’s too fast, it’s too fast.” My mantra got Gabby more than a little worried.
“What’s the problem?” She asked, nervously glancing up to Matt, her eyes giving a nonverbal ‘have we gotten in too deep here, is something going wrong?’ look.
I grit my teeth, knowing another contraction was ramping up. “8cm typically brings the transition phase. It can be the most demanding part before pushing, and most mothers tend to go inwards, be non-verbal at that time… I… I…”. That was all I could manage, the next sound out of my mouth was a haunting wail as my body forced me to bend to what it wanted at the time.
Bruce stood up, grabbing my hand from his shoulder and letting me squeeze his own hand as tight as I possibly could. He wrapped his other arm around my own shoulder and I pressed my head into his in return. I felt the press of wetness into his top. I wasn’t sure if I was sweating with how tough it had been for me so far, or if I was simply shedding tears.
Gabby came in behind me and tugged at my dress, slipping it back over my bump and watching it flow down to my legs once more.
Any relief I might have felt with the breaking of my waters was short-lived. The amniotic sac, at least, was filled with fluid and therefore more forgiving. Now that it was gone, I could feel the baby’s head descending at an alarming rate, and it was all huge unyielding skull.
The new weight settling deep into my pelvis sharpened the pain in my back and rectum. I twisted and squirmed into various positions and postures, but nothing seemed to alleviate the intensity of the pressure there. At one point, I ended up on my knees on the chair cushion that had been placed on the floor, sobbing into Bruce’s shoulder because there was no relief—if anything, it was only getting worse.
“Hurts. It hurts,” I mumbled over and over again into the wet fabric of his shirt.
“I know, baby,” he said softly, sympathetically, stroking my hair and kissing my temple. “What can I do?”
“My back. My, my s-sacrum,” I could barely get out the words. “Feels like I’m gonna break in two.” I cried out again as the contraction peaked and then rolled right into the next one with no break in between. “Counter-ngh-pressure.”
Bruce locked eyes with Gabby, then looked down at my back, then back up to her. He inclined his head to indicate that she could—and, in fact, should—be doing something to assist.
“Open your hand and press your palm flat against the base of her spine,” he instructed.
She touched me lightly, but it was more in the lumbar region and far too delicate to do anything against the strength of my contracting muscles.
“Lower,” I growled, and she startled a bit before adjusting her position. “And harder. Please,” I added in what I hoped was a less feral tone.
She put a good amount of body weight behind her hand and finally, finally, it didn’t feel like my coccyx was about to snap off. I whimpered, this time crying for even the smallest amount of relief, and Bruce gave her a thumbs up.
I wanted to move, but it felt impossible to close my legs even a fraction of an inch, so I settled for just shifting and circling my hips whenever I got twitchy. To her credit, Gabby followed my various cat/cows and figure 8s perfectly, and even started experimenting with pressure and position and kneading the muscles around my spine, paying attention to my reactions to continue with what worked and stop what didn’t.
It was maybe 20 minutes of nonstop contractions before no amount of movement or counterpressure could lessen the pain. Everything in my body was tightening, forcing the pressure in on itself and down through my core—a coiled spring ready to flip a switch in my brain that would force me to start pushing whether I was ready or not.
But I wasn’t ready. I was supposed to have a calm, leisurely home birth surrounded by professionals and people I trusted. I was supposed to have music and a bath and- and time. Most of all, I was supposed to have time.
“I- can’t- do- this-“ I half-panted, half-sobbed between gasping breaths. It was the same thing I’d heard from many laboring mothers before, but I never truly understood how true it must have felt for them until now. “I want an epidural. I want a c-section. Anything but this. I can’t- I can’t- I—“
My desperate pleas were cut off by a scream that left my body shaking and my throat raw and hoarse.
“How can I make this easier for you?” Bruce asked in that same infuriatingly calm tone.
It grated on my nerves and I snapped, “Push out your own big-headed fucking kid.” Then, feeling contrite, “Sorry, I’m- god, it just hurts so much.”
I could feel the chuckle behind his lips as he kissed me. “I’m a professional athlete—I’ve heard worse from 10 year olds on the internet. It’ll take a lot more than a jab from my beloved laboring wife to hurt my feelings.”
The urge to push slammed into me with enough force to knock the air from my lungs. I collapsed against Bruce’s chest as both my arms wrapped around my impossibly taut stomach. “Fuck, fuck, oh god, FUCK!” My profanities dissolved into an incoherent wail as I put every ounce of willpower into not pushing with the unbearable instinct.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Gabby’s frantic voice asked from behind me.
“If I had to guess,” Bruce said over my howling, “I’d say she’s hit 10 centimeters.”
“And what happens at 10 centimeters? I can guess… but humour me?” asked Gabby.
“I… I need to push. I gotta push!” came my wailing cry as if in response.
“Pretty much that” quipped Bruce. He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me, gently shifting me around so I was sat on my ass on the cushion. He wrapped his arms around my neck and over my shoulders, whispering close to my ear so that only I could hear it.
Affirmative words like ‘you can do it baby’ and ‘let it happen, you know you can do it’ came from his mouth into my ears and, despite every nerve in my body being on edge, I managed to relax into his wrapped arms.
I breathed out a calming mouthful of air, trying to regain my composure between contractions.
“I only have a few moments,” I managed, “then the next contraction will hit, and I’ll be pushing. This is the pushing phase, I have to get the head and body of the baby past my
lips…” I trailed off as I parted my legs, raising my knees, and groaned as my chin dipped down to my chest, making contact with Bruce’s hands pressed against my collarbone. My dress skirt was tented but still covered any view the camera may have had - right now the shot was of a dishevelled mother-to-be wrapped in the arms of her husband, sweat-matted hair plastered to her face.
“Lips…?” It was Matt to ask.
Bruce waggled his finger and pointed downwards, aimed squarely between my legs.
“Oh…” of course Matt knew how the process of birth happened, it’s just right here, right now with things happening in front of him, he was simply dumbstruck.
Gabby kneeled down in front of me, between my legs. “Can I help?” she enquired.
I couldn’t answer, right now I was pushing, and no force in the world was going to interrupt me from that task.
It was a good thing Bruce was able to infuse some of his calm energy into me because, as soon as the next contraction hit, the rest of the world faded away. The only thing I could hear was my own primal grunting; the only thing I could feel was the ballooning pressure spreading me wide from the inside out; the only thing I could think was ‘push, push, push’.
But I might as well have been trying to push over a concrete wall. The baby’s head was low and heavy and full, but my body was still adjusting to its presence and would not budge until it was ready to release. No matter how great the force of the instinct to bear down, the fact was that the enormous head still had to somehow fit through my narrow opening. Preferably without tearing me open.
“I need… gravity,” I panted out in the brief break between contractions.
Sitting directly on my tailbone was not helping the pressure in my hips and ass, but I was too exhausted to fully stand and kneeling would not open my hips wide enough to allow my giant of a husband’s baby to engage properly in the birth canal.
“Where do you want me?” Bruce asked, arms still around me ready to pull me into whatever position I requested.
“Chair. Behind,” I grunted as my stomach began to tighten again.
Despite the lack of cushion, he dutifully sat on the chair and pulled me up between his bent knees. Positioning myself toward the end of his thighs, I could use them to lean on as I got my feet under me in a very deep squat while still allowing my knees to flare out as far as they needed to in front of his shins.
The edge of my dress came up over my knees, but pooled and draped over my pussy, obscuring anything that might be going on between my legs as I pushed. My milk-filled breasts pooled over my heavy, dragging belly and it all felt too contained, too restrictive in these clothes that were never meant to give birth in. I wanted nothing more than to take them off, to let my natural naked body move and flow whatever way it wanted, but there was no way I could articulate that desire in any coherent way at the moment. Instead, it presented itself as a whine, an uncomfortable shifting of knees and hips and back, a throwing back of my head onto his knee as Bruce fanned my flushed face.
“You’re doing great, baby,” he praised, running his fingers through my tangled mess of hair and gently massaging my scalp.
“What can I do?” Gabby repeated once I had come back to myself. “Should I help coach you? Maybe count down from 10?”
I shook my head, not really having the energy to explain but desperate to dispel this clinical, controlled image of pushing. “They do that a lot in hospital settings, along with having the laboring mother lying on her back with her legs in stirrups, but that is for the doctor’s benefit, not the mother’s, and it often causes more harm than good.” I hummed, which turned into a moan as the baby’s head slipped down another millimeter. “Luckily, healthcare professionals are starting to recognize the benefits of mother-led labor and delivery, including spontaneous pushing.”
“No doubt in part due to the popularity of your books and the experiences of the women in those stories,” Gabby said, ever the interviewer.
I turned and whimpered into Bruce’s thigh, lightly tapping and squeezing his generous athletic muscles.
“I think that means ‘thank you, that’s very generous of you to say, but I’m also just one of many advocates working to raise awareness and empathy for this important issue’.” He leaned down to stage whisper to me, “How’d I do?”
I gave a thumbs up without bothering to lift my head, only half-listening to either of them, but Bruce had seen enough of my press junkets to know what I would say.
Feeling how tightly my fingers were digging into him, how tense and still I was, Bruce suggested, “Maybe we could try making the room a little more relaxing? Dim the lights, put on some music, tell her how good she’s doing.” Then, leaning down to me again, over my strained whine, “That’s right, mama. That’s my girl, opening up so good for our baby.”
Gabby cleared her throat. “Maybe I’ll leave that last one to you,” she said.
I heard her heels click and then the brightness behind my closed eyes darkened. When I opened them, the only light in the room was the lamp on the side table, normally just meant to add warmth and character to the set. More clicks, this time her nails against her phone, and some low-fi music began playing and she set the device in the background next to the lamp.
I finally lifted my head, wrapping an arm beneath my heavy belly and adjusting my stance with a wince and a deep, exhausted, exasperated puff of air. Bruce’s hands were kneading my shoulders, so I was surprised when I felt a gentle touch on my knee and found Gabby knelt down in front of me.
She used her other hand to cover mine where it rested on my stomach as she said, “You’re doing great, Jessica. Really.”
Tears flowed freely from my eyes now, the sensations were overwhelming, and the simple act of kindness and sincerity from Gabby pushed me over the edge.
Of course, my body had its own agenda, and within seconds I was once again pushing, grunting and groaning along with my body clenching within me, all towards its goal of expelling the child held within me.
I pressed Gabby’s hand into my belly, and she felt the skin of my midsection tighten as the contraction flowed through me, the belly shrinking until it seemed as if it wrapped tightly around the mass of baby inside.
My grunt as the contraction peaked turned into moans of pain - nothing unusual in that by now - but Gabby did notice the time I was making the most noise seemed to be getting longer and longer as each contraction passed.
Finally, it passed, and I was left panting for air. I managed a weak “this is tougher than I imagined it would be. No amount of seeing this happening prepares you.”
I took a few seconds to gather my breath and next, I spoke out, directing to no one in particular, “I have some puppy pads in the birth bag - can someone spread some of them out around the floor. There should be a plastic sheet too. I think it could get messy soon, and I don’t want to be responsible for cleaning this place.” I managed a weak laugh.
“I need to stand again, stretch my back” I advised, as between Bruce and Gabby they got me to my feet. Matt had left his post at the camera and grabbed the supplies I asked for, laying them out. It took a bit of stepping in and around him, but soon the floor was covered. I noted the cushion I had kneeled on earlier was underneath the plastic tarpaulin-like sheet now - making a mental note so I didn’t trip over the small hill it created.
I fell into Gabby’s arms as the next contraction hit me unexpectedly. I wasn’t prepared and could do nothing but wail. Bruce came in behind, kneading my lower back, but I swatted his hand away. I managed a growling command of “dress off, now” as Matt looked over at Gabby, who in turn shrugged.
Bruce pulled the fabric up over my ass, exposing my naked legs to the camera, shoved it over my head, and between Bruce and Gabby they moved one arm at a time until the dress fell to the floor between me and Gabby.
I was naked now except for my bra. And right now, I couldn’t care less. Right now I was cooled down, the studio air conditioning chilling my sweat-streaked back.
That was when I realised I was standing with my legs apart. My fingers dropped down and I felt my vulva. I was bulging. I finally felt progress!
The relief must have been evident on my face because Gabby asked, “Can you feel the head?”
Ohhh, could I feel it. But I knew that wasn’t what she meant. “Not exactly. I can feel the shape of the head stretching out behind the skin, but probably not visible yet.”
I thought I heard Matt mutter something to himself about that being a lot of work and noise for not even being able to see the baby yet, but Gabby was speaking over him. “Can I— I mean, would it be alright if I… you know, took a peek?” She pointed down between my legs, as if it wasn’t obvious where she was asking about.
Normally I would have shied away from allowing someone I barely knew down there, but we were short on hands in this scenario and I figured it was inevitable. I nodded, “Quickly,” and the grunting noises started again as my knees bent into a half squat. My huge globe of a belly shrank and tightened with the contraction, outlining the dips and hollows around the large baby still inside it.
Gabby knelt down on one knee to be able to see around my stomach, and I held onto her shoulders for stability as Bruce drove his knuckles into my bare back.
“Oh wow,” Gabby said as she watched the effects of my pushes. “The baby’s head must be right there; I can see it dome out between your legs whenever you push.” Then, after doing some quick mental math, she asked, “Are you sure… like, is it going to fit through there? That’s a big head; it doesn’t seem physically possible.”
It didn’t quite seem that way to me either at the moment, but it’s not like I had a choice. “It always—hoo—feels impossible—hngh—until it isn’t,” I managed between heaves and moans. The makeshift waterproofing on the floor kept sticking to my feet and pulling up anytime I moved and I kicked at it in frustration several times before concluding, “I need to sit.”
The cushion was trapped on the floor, but Bruce volunteered to be my seat. He positioned himself on the chair first and then I sat on his lap, draping my legs around the outside of his thighs while he kept his open enough to keep my pussy open and exposed. He was tall enough that he still towered over me, and his arms were able to wrap around my front, belly and all, and coming to rest on my inner thighs, spreading and gently kneading them in an attempt to get me to relax.
There was nothing left to the imagination anymore for the people in the room—if Matt lowered the camera a foot or two he’d have a front row view. As it was, he kept a more tasteful side profile at an elevated angle so that my stomach obscured any of the graphic bits. But if things had gone to plan, we would have had a birth photographer present in the room, and so I had Bruce slip Matt both our phones to set up to record the more closeup shots. My own phone was sweaty to the touch because of being stuffed in my bra against my overheated skin, so Matt had to give it a good wipedown on the fabric of his shirt upon receiving it.
“I’m gonna ask for a raise,” he said as he mounted the devices to some small tripods and adjusted them to an appropriate angle, a slight blush coloring his cheeks as he zoomed in for one of the captures.
I chuckled and then gasped “Fuck!”, the suddenness and intensity of the next contraction somehow still managing to take me by surprise. I threw my head back against Bruce’s solid chest and he kissed my temple as I pushed, my fingers digging into his forearms where they rested on my thighs while his hands moved to my center to gently coax back the emerging volcano forming between my legs. His thumb brushed against my clit and I gasped again, and this time it was my turn to go red.
I knew arousal was an effective pain management technique, but most clients were always too self-conscious to actually try it out in the delivery room surrounded by people. Despite knowing it was nothing to be ashamed of, I still tried to muffle my noises any time he grazed the sensitive nub.
I leaned forward, my breaths heaving, and gave a guttural cry as the instinct to bear down overwhelmed everything else and the first hints of burning teased my opening.
“I think- yes, I see the head!” Gabby exclaimed.
I managed to punctuate my grunting pushes with a small nod as I took in Gabby’s words. I knew myself she was about to get a rude awakening into the process of birth, but couldn’t get the words out. I knew I’d have a chance to explain but finally as the contraction relented I heard her give a disappointed cry as she exclaimed “where did it go” a few moments later.
I was hoarse and needed a drink. It was evident in my voice, I was raspy. I soldiered on, however, and explained, “Think of it like waves. They slosh forward and then draw back. Like the tides, eventually the high tide comes in and you’re up to your ankles in seawater.”
Gabby looked a bit confused at that analogy and asked, “So, the baby doesn’t just keep on coming stretching you wider and wider until it pops out?”
I shook my head. “No. It pokes out a bit, goes back in, pushes out a little more. Eventually it won’t retreat anymore and will be there permanently. Eventually it pokes out to its widest point…”
I was cut short by the next contraction, and I closed my mouth, trying not to irritate my throat further. Closed-lip pushing did not feel like it was giving me anywhere near enough air flow, and I frustratingly gave up, back to an open-mouthed moan.
However, because it was different to my previous pushes, Gabby thought it was just me taking a breath. She continued “and what happens then?” That’s when she saw the peeling back of my lips, the top of baby’s scalp showing once more and then following that, my moan coming through. She shut up and placed a hand on my ankle giving it a gentle pat. She stared as the head once more retreated.
“Crowning,” I finally replied as I caught my breath. “And the ring of fire.”
“That doesn’t sound fun.” Gabby gave a worried look into my eyes.
“It’s not, but it only lasts moments. I’ve heard it’s a rite of passage. I’m certainly not looking forward to it,” I managed. Finally, I asked: “can I get some water, please? My throat feels like it’s burning.”
Gabby apologised, realising just how bad my voice sounded. She was too intensely focused on the action between my legs. She dashed out of the studio, and suddenly it was just us two and Matt, who was doing his best to have a camera as a shield between himself and the messy situation developing between my legs.
“So… err… anything else you guys need?” he asked. Bruce smiled and looked up. “I guess an epidural is out of the question?”
“Sorry all out of those” Matt gave a grin back as the humour helped lighten the tension in the room a little.
I was soon pushing again, hands digging into Bruce’s thighs as I grunted “that’s OK I wanted it to be natural anyway”. The end syllable elongated into a ‘aaaaaaaaay’ noise as the contraction did what it had to do and once more, at least for 30 seconds or so, I was overcome by my natural instincts and lost all sense of the world around me.
When I regained my composure again, I found Gabby standing next to me, glass of water in hand - and she’d remembered a straw to make it easier to sip it.
After a pull on the straw, my smile was evident. “Thanks, that feels so good.”
The exhaustion caught up with me then, the immediate need to quench my thirst satiated enough for me to really feel just how tired my body was. It made sense—it was working overtime to condense days’ worth of effort into just a couple hours. And, even though the instinct to push was strong, progress was slow, and my mind was beginning to doubt.
“I need to rest for a bit,” I announced, untangling myself from Bruce’s limbs to put my feet flat on the floor.
Both Matt and Gabby looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “How are you possibly going to do that?” she asked.
“Wanna lie down on my side.” The cushion was still there on the floor, if slightly buried, and I looked between it and Bruce pleadingly.
“Am I to be your pillow then?” he guessed, and I nodded.
“Please.”
He kissed my neck and gave my thigh a gentle squeeze. “Anything for you, love.” Then, Bruce got down on the floor above the cushion, helping me down before sprawling out to be used however I needed.
My hip rested on the cushion while my top half splayed across Bruce’s considerable mass. My belly spilled out over his body and we both had a hand rested on it, while one leg rested on the floor to give some stability. The other leg was bent up with my knee toward the ceiling in an attempt to keep my hips open, but it wasn’t quite enough and so my foot just kind of dangled helplessly in the air until Gabby took hold of it.
“Want me to hold your leg up?” she offered.
“You’re a saint,” I breathed, glad to have found purchase.
She grinned and hooked my knee over her shoulder, leaning back and settling herself on the floor next to me once we’d found a good position where I could rest even as my body continued to work.
I let the next several contractions just roll over me, through me, pushing if I needed to but not trying to force anything to move quicker than it naturally wanted to—the tippy top of the baby’s head might have breached my opening, but there was still a long way to go before the rest of it would fit through there and I didn’t want to exhaust myself before the effort truly began.
The back and forth peekaboo game would have been maddening were it not for Bruce and Gabby’s gentle touches and whispers of encouragement. Bruce told me how beautiful and amazing and strong I was while Gabby gave a play by play of everything happening between my legs—first a dime size peek, then a quarter; then she ran out of coin analogies and switched to a golf ball, a tennis ball, a baseball. Every time my opening got wider, the head pushing out further, but every time I stopped pushing it would get sucked back into the depths of my tight folds.
“I need to move again,” I huffed as I felt the head slip back in for what felt like the hundredth time.
“Rest time over?” Gabby asked, and I almost scoffed because how could I have possibly thought I could rest when the baby was so close to being born.
“Something like that,” I said with a bit of bitterness. “Hands and knees, please.”
Because Bruce was still under me, Gabby and Matt helped pull me to a more seated position and I hissed at the added pressure that put on the baby lodged deep in my hips. But I transitioned quickly, now kneeling on the cushion over Bruce’s body, still using him as a pillow.
My legs widened until my pussy was just a few inches above the floor and everything felt so much more open like this. It was as if something shifted, just a millimeter or two, as the next contraction barreled through my core, the head shooting forward as I pushed, the pressure and burning nearly unbearable. I howled, the sound only slightly muffled against Bruce’s clothes, releasing the push and taking frantic breaths, waiting, desperate for the relief of the head retreating back inside, but the terrible stretch remained.
The head was staying put.
Gabby sounded frantic. “Are you ok? That sounded painful.” I blew out a breath, trying to regain composure. The exhale lasted for a good 5 or 6 seconds, which to me didn’t seem to help much but to those looking in, seemed to last a long time. I shook my head, clearing away the cobwebs, and explained the situation.
“Think of it like trying to squeeze your hand into a very tight glove… but in reverse. You’re the glove.” My hand patted Bruce as a way to keep my mind focused. “If you get it so far in, and let go, you’ll feel it squeeze you tight but it won’t… hurt, per se… but if you pull on it you’ll feel it tugging your skin. Right now my skin is being pulled… tight… when the contraction pushes the baby out of from between my legs. And to be blunt, it hurts like hell.”
Gabby let out a nervous chuckle. “That does not sound fun. Is this position you’re in comfortable?”
I shook my head, not wanting to point out the obvious. “Nothing is comfortable, but this allows me to widen my hips, giving more room for the head to emerge.” I felt the next contraction build and let out an apology as I grasped tight onto Bruce’s arms and once again let out a yowling groan, internally counting to 10, taking a breath, then going again.
Gabby got down to her hands and knees, and then lay on the floor, trying to get a good view of the emerging head from underneath me. She let out a frustrated ‘fuck’ - completely forgetting the fact she was on recorded television.
I leaned forward, ass in the air as I panted against Bruce following the aftermath of the contraction, when Gabby gave a little cough.
I turned my head to look at her, not saying anything, but my look suggested she should speak.
“I know I’m not in any sort of position to ask this, but could you flip back over? I can’t see anything in the position you are in.” She sounded genuine, and certainly interested in seeing how things would pan out.
I gave a groan. “Normally I’d berate you. You should never tell a mother-to-be how best to give birth as it should be an entirely mother-led affair. But I appreciate this is a learning experience and a little different to the norm…”
I looked up into Bruce’s eyes. “Can you give me a hand up?”
The next few minutes consisted of a lot of rolling around, getting picked up off the ground, Bruce and Gabby holding me tightly as I stood wide-legged, trying not to close tightly on the emerging head, and a 30-second pause as the next contraction worked its way through me – my head buried into Gabby’s shoulder as I muffled my yowl as a result.
“I need… need to take off my bra. It’s constricting” I whispered to Gabby. Part of me had a moment where I figured whilst I was wearing a bra I wasn’t ‘naked’ and felt that this was a final breaking point where I finally gave in to my base instincts and let the pregnancy take over. I had seen this moment dozens of times with mothers I had helped. It was always the first-timers. Another rite of passage I must go through, I figured.
Gabby didn’t hesitate. Her arms reached behind me, wiggled on the snaps and suddenly the fabric slid off my breasts, sliding down my belly and landing with a plop in front of me.
I stood up in front of Gabby and she couldn’t help but give a little involuntary blink at the sight in front of her. She pictured her own breasts from her shower this morning. Perky, pink-tipped things with tiny nipples. Mine, in comparison, had dark brown-ringed areole, long, puffy nipples almost the size of the end portion of her little finger… and they had stretch marks. She refused to comment, but this was one more physical change she noted was an after effect of the pregnancy.
Another push came upon me, my hands finding Gabby’s shoulders to hold as I dipped into a squatting position, which could be best described as a wide-stanced plié from ballet – my knees bending and my hips dropping low.
My head met her chest, and my groan reverberated through her. As it passed through me, I blew out a breath and looked up at Gabby. “Think I’m ready? Can you help me get down to the floor?”
As Bruce retook his position to give me somewhere to rest against, Gabby held my hands and lowered me down to his thighs. I settled into place as he found the gap between my breasts and belly to hug me close as Gabby got down onto her knees in front of me. She was almost at eye level with my waist and could see all the intimate details of my pussy stretched against the head poking its way out of me.
“It’s starting again” I gave a grunt as my feet found Gabby’s shoulders, using her almost as stirrups, Gabby in turn grabbing my ankles to help brace herself. Bruce changed the position of his hold so he was crossed arms, his left hand grasping my right breast and vice versa. I felt his thumb and forefinger of each hand find my nipples as the sensation caused me to groan, lightning sensations from my sensitive nubs coursing through my body and, somehow, finding their way between my legs.
Gabby sat wide-eyed as the white, compressed head between my tight lips moved a fraction wider as my eyes scrunched tight and tendons on my neck bulged as I gritted my teeth. She had a front and centre view as Matt had brought the camera around to get a straight on view of me all from above her head. I knew the head must have been almost out, the burning sensation had been growing and growing with each contraction since I had been on my hands and knees.
“How much- of the head- is out?” I managed between panted breaths, trying to focus on the pleasure of Bruce’s hands in the brief respite between contractions.
Gabby formed her hands into a circle that was far smaller than it had any right to be. “About this much.” She studied the remaining bulge behind the visible ring. “Still looks like there’s a lot left to go.”
An annoyed growl rumbled through me and Bruce soothed me with his touch. I wasn’t upset with Gabby, per se, more at my own ineffectiveness. Maybe it was silly, but part of me really believed that I would be better at this, that it would be easier for me because of what
I did and what I knew. But nothing was happening like it was supposed to, and as quick as the labor had been, the second stage seemed to be taking an eternity.
I knew I’d agreed to it, but this position was really not doing me any favors. My hips were pressed awkwardly into the ground and, the full weight of my stomach adding to the painful pressure despite the buried cushion. My feet on Gabby’s shoulders helped keep me open wide, but she was unpracticed and the angle wasn’t always quite right—she leaned forward as I bore down, pushed my knees so far up and out that they were pinned on either side of my belly, emphasizing the enormity of its curve.
“Wow, you are really working hard,” Gabby said suddenly, temporarily removing one of her hands from my ankle to lay on the surface of my tight stomach as I pushed. “You can actually see your whole stomach move up and down as you push.”
Matt moved the camera in closer, changing the angle slightly to better capture the way my belly scrunched up, its peak becoming sharper and higher even as the whole thing moved further down my body. It must have been quite a sight, getting every primal feminine bump—belly, breasts, and pussy—on full display, each heavy and full and straining with the process of giving birth.
Gravity was not on my side, and I could feel myself working harder than before to make any kind of progress. If the head had already truly crowned it would have been easier, but there was still a bit more stretching to do.
“Come on, girl, you’ve got this,” Gabby said, giving my ankles an encouraging rub even as I whined in frustration.
I reached down between my legs as I pushed again, pressing lightly against my distended clit as it stretched around the baby’s massive head. “Need help stretching,” I realized after several contractions with no progress.
“Wha- how?” Gabby asked, quickly going from confused to eager.
I moved my hand lower, tracing the outline of my stretched lips. “Here. If you can-“ I didn’t know how to explain, so I demonstrated the delicate motion that would push the thin skin further around the bulge.
“Doesn’t that… hurt?” she asked when I winced and hissed.
“Only a bit,” I lied, biting my lip to keep from crying out. This was necessary, and she might hesitate if she knew how much it fucking hurt. “I can’t reach with both hands.”
Gabby still looked skeptical, but I grabbed her hands and guided them to my opening. “Good thing I keep my nails trimmed short,” she commented, testing the give in my skin around the head and surprised that there was still any give.
I groaned, indicating that the next contraction was starting. I positioned Bruce’s hands back to cup my breasts, silently communicating my needs, before reaching back behind my head to grab onto Bruce’s shoulders in an imitation of how I might be holding onto our headboard if I was giving birth at home in our bed.
With the first brush of Bruce’s fingers against my nipples, the pain of the contraction skyrocketed, and I couldn’t stop the wail that came up my throat.
Bruce’s touches turned gentle, coaxing, as he instructed Gabby to, “Keep going, that means it’s working.”
I could’ve kissed him if I didn’t also want to strangle him—childbirth was complicated. Because Gabby’s hands were otherwise occupied, Bruce took over keeping my legs pulled back as I curled around my contracting stomach, face turning red and veins popping as I threw everything I had into the push. The burning stretch was almost so intense that the pain was numbed—almost—and finally I could feel when it crested as I reached a full crown.
I took a couple desperate breaths, but refused to lose the momentum. If I was still on my hands and knees, the rest of the head might have slipped out easily. As it was, it took several more long, hard pushes to get past the eyes, nose, mouth, and then finally the chin. Gabby’s cheers mixed with my cries as a gush of fluids erupted from between my legs. The floor, at least, was mostly waterproofed. Gabby, not so much. But she was all smiles as she cupped the newborn head in her hands.
The relief from the pressure and pain may have felt better than any orgasm, right there and then, at that minute. My head sank back into Bruce and I revelled in the success for just a brief moment.
There was still the shoulders and the body, I reminded myself. Not over yet.
I tuned back into the room as Gabby was making all sorts of celebratory noises to the room in general, and I felt the soft touches of her fingers probing around at the head between my legs.
“Feel for the cord” I announced, though my voice likely came out a lot quieter than expected in the general ruckus of the room.
“Come again?” Asked Gabby, her eyes and focus back on my face rather than my lower half.
“Check for the umbilical cord, should be nice and loose, not trapped. Baby still gets oxygen from my placenta until he’s fully out and he takes his first breath,” my voice recovered and explained - admittedly punctuated with heavy breathing, trying to recover from my ordeal.
Gabby gave a nod as I felt her fingers press deeper into my sore opening, to around the baby’s neck. I felt her finger hook over the cord and give a tug. The sensation felt completely alien to having it all happen with me rather than my acting on it externally, but I felt a warmth by the fact that I felt the cord pull away, suggesting it wasn’t caught tight.
“Seems to be loose” Gabby said. “Though I don’t know how much I should pull?”
“No… no, that’s enough” I gave a smile as response, which was soon replaced by a wincing grunt as the next contraction built up on me.
I pressed down into my hips, splaying my pelvic opening wide as I did an experimental push, feeling the shoulders press me from the inside. I reached down with a hand and felt the head, my fingers brushing against Gabby, who seemed reluctant to let go.
I pushed, harder than I expected if I was going to be honest with myself, and felt a popping sensation as the baby’s lower shoulder slipped out from between my legs.
My hand felt the baby’s chest fill it as it slid out, and I maintained the pressure of the push. The second shoulder gave a slick sound as it slid out of me, and suddenly I had half a baby out of me.
“Do I pull? Do you push?” Gabby was flustered, however I was unable to answer. I shook my head, a gesture that meant nothing in the context of what she just asked, but when she didn’t act on her own accord, I doubled down, taking a breath and pushing again as I felt the baby’s belly widening my opening until a strange slithering sensation followed as the baby’s long legs and feet slipped past my lips.
Suddenly it was all over. I was breathing hard, stunned into silence. Holding a hand onto my baby’s belly as Gabby did the manual handling work and lifted my baby up to my belly. My hand was suddenly clutching the wriggling form tight to my skin as a gurgling sound was soon followed by a piercing wail as the baby took its first breaths.
Gabby suddenly burst into tears - and both me and Bruce soon followed, the emotion of the moment taking over any sensible training I may have previously considered should the roles be reversed.
Hey bunnies, how are y'all doing? It's been SOOO LONG since we've had a FREE story. And I've been asked so many times on Tumblr and Deviantart if I would ever post one again, and so here it is lol
Vault members, please don't worry; a BONUS story is coming your way today, too 😉
Now, for the sake of not violating Patreon's guidelines, I've posted the free stories in the following places:
Vault members, of course, would find it in the Vault.
Free members and readers from other platforms will find it on Tumblr and DeviantArt.
We good? K.
Thank you and love y'all! ❤️
Status: Complete
Word Count: 2,079 words
Summary: A woman goes into labor alone during a massive storm that's knocked out all power and communication.
Author's Notes/Warnings: MDNI. 18+ only. This fic contains explicit content involving pregnancy, labor, and birth. Graphic solo home birth during emergency situation, fast labor, water breaking, crowning descriptions, surprise twins, second baby in posterior position (sunny-side up), significantly larger second baby, difficult shoulder dystocia, sexual content including masturbation during birth, multiple orgasms during delivery, clitoral stimulation, lactation and milk spraying, breastfeeding during active labor, gushing fluids, profanity, and detailed anatomical descriptions. Very large babies. Reader discretion advised due to intense birth and sexual themes.
The storm had been raging for two hours when Nina's contractions started.
She'd been sitting on the couch trying to read by candlelight when the first one hit, a deep cramping that wrapped around her entire belly and made her drop the book. At first she thought it was just more Braxton Hicks, but then five minutes later another one came, and then another three minutes after that.
"Shit," she breathed, pushing herself up from the couch. Her belly was massive, hanging low and heavy between her hips, and as she stood she felt the baby shift downward with a pressure that made her gasp.
She needed to call someone. Her midwife. Her sister. Anyone.
But when she picked up her phone, there was no signal. The storm had knocked out the cell towers along with the power. She tried the landline in the kitchen, pressing the receiver to her ear, but all she got was dead silence.
Another contraction hit while she was standing at the kitchen counter, and this time it brought her to her knees. The pressure was incredible, the baby sinking so low she could feel it between her legs. Her water broke without warning, a hot flood that soaked through her pajama pants and pooled on the tile floor beneath her.
"No, no, no..." she panted, gripping the edge of the counter as the contraction peaked. "Not yet. Please not yet."
But her body didn't care what she wanted. The contractions were coming faster now, each one stronger than the last, and she could feel the baby moving down through her pelvis with terrifying speed.
She tried to stand but her legs wouldn't cooperate, so she crawled instead, making her way through the dark hallway toward the bedroom. Every few feet another contraction would hit and she'd have to stop, spreading her knees wide and arching her back as her belly tightened like a rock.
By the time she reached the bedroom she was already feeling the urge to push, a deep, primal need that she couldn't ignore. She pulled herself up using the bed frame and collapsed onto her knees beside the mattress, her forehead pressed against the sheets as she tried to breathe through it.
"Okay," she gasped. "Okay, you can do this. Women do this all the time."
But not alone. Not in the dark. Not during a storm with no way to call for help.
Another contraction came and her body pushed without asking permission, the muscles bearing down hard as the baby's head dropped through her cervix. The sensation was overwhelming, a burning stretch that made her cry out as she felt the massive bulge form between her legs.
She reached back with one hand, yanking her soaked pajama pants down to her thighs, and her fingers found the enormous swell of her opening already stretching around the baby's head.
"Oh god," she whimpered, feeling how huge it was. "Oh god, this baby is so big..."
She pushed again and the head moved lower, her body opening wider and wider around it as fluid gushed out and ran down her thighs. The burn was intense, a ring of fire that made her gasp and pant, but she couldn't stop pushing.
"It's coming," she said out loud, her voice shaking. "It's really coming. I'm having this baby right now."
Talking helped. Hearing her own voice in the silent, dark room made her feel less alone, so she kept going as she bore down again.
"I can feel the head... oh fuck, I can feel it stretching me..."
The baby crowned in one brutal push, the entire head forcing its way through her opening until it sat there, heavy and huge in her hand. Her legs were shaking so badly she could barely stay upright, but she reached back with both hands now, feeling the baby's face, checking for the cord.
Nothing. The cord was clear.
She looked down between her legs and saw her reflection in the full-length mirror leaning against the wall. Her thighs were spread wide, her opening stretched impossibly around the baby's head, fluid and blood streaking her legs.
"Almost there," she panted. "Almost..."
The shoulders were the hardest part. She pushed and pushed but they wouldn't come, stuck behind her pubic bone as her body strained to expel them. She shifted positions, rolling onto her side on the floor and pulling her top leg up toward her chest, opening her hips as wide as they would go.
"Come on, baby," she groaned, pushing harder. "Come on..."
One shoulder finally popped free with a gush of fluid, and then the other followed, and suddenly the entire baby was sliding out onto the floor in a rush of warmth and wetness.
Nina grabbed the crying infant and pulled it onto her chest, sobbing with relief and exhaustion as the baby wailed against her skin.
But something was wrong. Her belly was still huge, still contracting, and before she could even process what was happening she felt another gush of water and a familiar pressure dropping low in her pelvis.
"What..." she breathed, looking down at her stomach in shock. "No. No, that's not possible."
But it was, and there was another baby already dropping through her cervix before she could even catch her breath.
Nina's belly contracted violently, still massive and round despite the baby she was clutching to her chest. The first infant was screaming, and instinctively she brought it to her breast, trying to get it to latch as another contraction tore through her.
The baby latched on and sucked hard, and immediately milk sprayed from her other breast in a hot stream that soaked her shirt and dripped onto the floor. The sensation of the baby nursing combined with the contraction made her entire body clench, and she felt the second baby's head drop lower, pressing against her already battered opening.
"Nnngghh... oh god..." she gasped, her hips spreading wider as the pressure built. This baby felt different. Bigger. The head was pressing against her in a way that didn't feel right, grinding against her pubic bone instead of sliding smoothly down.
She reached down with her free hand, keeping the nursing baby clutched against her chest with the other, and felt between her legs. Her opening was already stretching again, but this time it felt wrong, the bulge harder and more angular.
The baby was facing up.
"No, no, no," she whimpered, realizing what that meant. Sunny-side up babies were harder to birth, took longer, stretched you more. "Please, baby, turn around..."
But the baby wasn't turning. Another contraction hit and her body pushed anyway, forcing the massive head down against her backward. Her clit was pushed out and exposed, the pressure on it so intense it sent sparks of sensation through her entire body.
She was panting now, milk still streaming from her breast as the first baby nursed frantically. The combination of sensations was overwhelming - the baby sucking at her breast, the milk letting down in painful spurts, the second baby's head grinding against her clit and stretching her wider than she'd ever been stretched before.
"Haaaah... haaaah... fuck..." She bore down again, and the head moved another agonizing inch. Her opening was stretched into a massive teardrop, and she could feel how much bigger this baby's head was compared to the first.
The burn was unbearable. She reached down and felt her clit, swollen and pushed completely out from under its hood by the baby's head pressing against it. Without thinking, she started rubbing it, desperate for any kind of relief from the pain.
The pleasure hit her like a lightning bolt. Her hips jerked and she moaned, her fingers working her clit as she pushed again. The baby's head stretched her wider, the pressure on her clit intensifying as she rubbed faster.
"Oh god... oh fuck..." she gasped, milk spraying from both breasts now as the first baby lost its latch and started crying again. She didn't care. She kept rubbing, kept pushing, her body caught between agony and pleasure as the second baby's head crowned.
The orgasm hit her without warning, her entire body clenching as she came hard, her pussy spasming around the massive head trying to emerge. She screamed, her back arching, and the baby's head surged forward with a gush of fluid.
But it still wasn't out. The head was too big, the angle all wrong, and she was stretched so thin she could feel every ridge of the baby's skull as it pressed against her.
"NNNGGGHHH... AAAHHHHH..." She pushed again, her fingers still working her clit desperately, trying to bring herself to another orgasm to help get the baby out. Milk was everywhere now, spraying with every contraction, soaking her chest and the floor beneath her.
The first baby was wailing beside her, but she couldn't focus on it. All she could focus on was the massive head crowning between her legs, stretching her impossibly wide as she rubbed her clit and pushed and screamed.
Another contraction slammed into her and she bore down with everything she had, her fingers frantic on her exposed clit as the baby's head pushed forward another fraction of an inch. "HNNNGGGHHH... FUCK... AAAHHHHH..."
The head was crowning fully now, a massive, hard bulge that filled her entire hand when she reached down to feel it. This baby's head was so much bigger than the first, and the fact that it was facing up made every push feel like she was being split in half.
"Come on... come on..." she panted, rubbing her clit harder as another orgasm built. Her milk was gushing now, spraying in arcs across the room with every heaving breath, her breasts so full and sensitive that even the air against them felt like too much.
She came again, her body clenching hard around the baby's head, and this time it moved. The face started to emerge, chin first instead of the back of the head like it should have been, and the stretch was agonizing. She could feel the baby's nose, its mouth, every feature dragging against her inner walls and making her scream.
The head burst free with an explosive gush of fluid that sprayed everywhere, and Nina collapsed forward onto her hands, gasping and sobbing. The baby's head hung between her legs, face up, staring at the ceiling, and she could see in the mirror how impossibly stretched she was.
But the shoulders were still inside, and they were even bigger than the head.
She didn't have time to rest. Another contraction hit immediately, and her body pushed whether she wanted it to or not. "HNNNGGGHHH... HAAAAH HAAAAH... FUCK FUCK FUCK..."
The shoulders wouldn't budge. They were stuck, wedged tight behind her pubic bone, and no matter how hard she pushed they wouldn't move. She shifted onto her side, pulling her leg up as far as it would go, opening her hips wider as milk continued to spray from her breasts.
"Please," she sobbed, reaching down to rub her clit again. "Please come out..."
She came a third time, her entire body shaking with the force of it, and finally, finally, one shoulder started to move. It bulged against her opening, stretching her even wider than the head had, and she screamed as it popped through with a sickening squelch.
More fluid gushed out, mixing with the milk pooling on the floor, and she pushed again desperately. "NNNGGGGHHH... AAAHHHHH... GET OUT... GET OUT OF ME..."
The second shoulder pushed through and the rest of the baby's body followed in a rush, sliding out onto the floor in a massive heap of limbs and vernix and blood.
Nina collapsed completely, her body shaking, milk still leaking from her breasts as both babies wailed beside her. The second baby was enormous, easily twice the size of the first, its body thick and long and impossibly heavy.
She lay there in the dark, surrounded by her crying newborns, and started to laugh. A broken, exhausted sound that turned into sobs.
"I just birthed twins," she whispered to the empty room. "Alone. In a storm. What the fuck."
The power flickered back on just as she reached for the second baby, the lights blazing to life and making her squint after so long in the dark.
And her phone, lying forgotten on the nightstand, started buzzing with missed calls and messages.
-fin
------
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Contains: 3rd person POV, wlw, pregnancy, pregnant lesbian sex, lactation, and birthing
Description: After being forcefully enrolled into a catholic boarding school for her last semester of high school Eve meets a peculiar student that the school's staff seem very eager to hide.
The summer Eve turned 19 should have been ruined the day her parents caught another girl in her room. One more month and she could finally live on her own in the apartment she had been looking at that she could afford with a retail job. It all came crashing down after her bedroom door swung open and within the week she was enrolled into the boarding school the next town over.
With a glance in the bathroom mirror of her childhood home she didn’t recognize the girl staring back at her. She looked more like her birth name Evangeline and she hated it. Her eyes looked dull and lethargic without her makeup. Her eyes and lips didn’t pop. It felt odd not having her piercing to fiddle with when she was nervous. In another context she could make knee socks and a skirt work, but a woolen cardigan with a white button up was hideous. Not a lick of black was on her besides her long, straight hair.
And as she left her parents car into the full lot she cursed at the cars that flooded the lot. Of course the first day of her new life was a Saturday.
Eve walked the perimeter of the church, hoping that she could remain incognito for the rest of the ceremony. As she wandered the spaces outside of the chapel she went up stairs and a long hallway. The sound of footsteps and conversation reduced to nothing while she reached a double door at its end.
She heard hushed voices from behind it, rapid movement, and the rustling of clothing. Eve could only make out the shadows at the crack between the doors but recognized bodies with long headdresses around one person. When Eve nudged the door open slightly she could see her blonde, curly locks within the sea of black headdresses as they swarmed around the front of the woman. Amongst the nuns the woman's bare skin was exposed for a second before clothing was thrown over her body.
With her ear pressed against the space Eve could barely make out the words.
“-doesn’t fit… Order another-”
“-month to deliver… not enough … Call tailor-”
“-take measurements… Can’t see her.”
She jumped as she felt the air of the door against the side of her head as it slammed. Eve briskly turned the corner at the end of the hallway and waiting.The noise settled down before she heard the old wooden door creak open.
Only one pair of footsteps made her comfortable enough to hold her position. Eve stayed still as it got closer to the end of the hallway. The navy blue cardigan hung loose over the body of a young woman slightly shorter than Eve was. Blonde curls revealed themselves before brown eyes shot open as they met hers.
“Don't-!” The young woman looked up to see the school uniform on a new face. She gasped knowing how she looked with red cheeks and shiny eyes that she desperately tried to blink away.
“Sorry…” The young woman stepped away and covered her side with her arm. She maintained her distance as she plucked against her loose sweater.
“No worries. I'm new here and I got a little lost. I’m Eve.”
“Magdelena… Um…” She stared at Eve with her brow furled, long enough for her to wonder if anybody could look more out of place in a boarding school’s uniform. Something fluttered in her chest looking at the new student that stood over her like she was from a completely different world, a glimpse from the outside world.
“You can call me Maggie.”
Church bells rang and caught Maggie’s attention. Eve followed while they retraced their winding steps
A quadrant of the church filled with pews of girls dawned in the same uniforms that Eve and the other student wore. As she scanned the students in front of her. It was obvious through height alone. Of the faces that Eve saw there wasn’t another student over 14 besides Maggie.
The priest took his place before the altar, and unprompted to Eve, everybody stood. She kept track of her placement with her future classmate by her side.
They stood, they sat, they kneeled. Eve even followed her technique of carefully shuffling her hips down into the platform underneath and standing with her legs square to stand.
Maggie wore visible discomfort on her face. Tasks that the seniors of the town did effortlessly were performed by Maggie laboriously until the two lagged behind the rest of the crowd.
She panted heavily as she kicked up the platform again to rise to her feet. The others glared at her. The other girl rolled her weight uncomfortably, shifting her weight to either side of her body before finally rising to her feet.
Her knees far apart while slumped on the wood. Maggie planted, keeled over her midsection. The platform refused to rise with Maggie's knees locked in place. White faced and with a bead of sweat running down her forehead. People started to stare.
Without a hesitation Eve offered her arm. The young woman was heavier than she expected, her center of gravity anchored far in her core. Maggie returned to her feet shakily. She steadied herself protectively around her stomach only averting her hands when she caught Eve staring.
Mass was dismissed and Maggie went to disappear into the halls of the church without a word. Without guidance, Eve followed. “Where are we going?” She asked.
“Please don't follow me.” She looked constantly over Eve’s shoulder and her own. “If they see that you’re talking to me they might-”
“Hey.” Eve cut Maggie off with a stride and landed a little too close to her future classmate.
“I don't want to be here. There’s nothing anybody could do or say that’ll change that. If something's wrong I’m on your side.” Maggie had to look up to see Eve's eyes. So sure and unshakable was the woman before her.
“I promise.”
Maggie took a deep breath.
“Follow me.”
A dead beam of lights in janitors rooms that were overflowing with empty bottles of cleaning product
Her ambiguous form underneath her large sweater came free as Maggie lifted her layers over her hips. An undersized button up that was unable to button over the centermost section of her midsection. And its hem was too short to hide her bare skin from poking out the shirt's bottom, unable to hide her stomach’s heavy, bulbous form.
She undid the bottommost buttons on her top and lifted her layers over her body. Her skin stretched wide forward carrying the weight of a pregnant belly.
Her panicked breath as she finally undid the buttons around her stomach allowed her belly to reveal itself to her classmate before her and occupy the space that it needed.
“Woah…” Eve uttered. Maggie cringed, fiddling with her hands and clumsily concealing herself with her simultaneously undersized and oversized layers. She made her best attempt to pull the bottoms of her button up over her skin, to no avail.
“They sent me here when I told them I was pregnant.”
The room immediately felt smaller with the reveal of the third life residing inside of the stall. The two women stood in silence, neither knowing exactly what to say next.
“I keep on trying to take it day by day, but I’m just getting closer and closer to giving birth. I don’t know what to do.”
The inevitability of childbirth made its way to the forefront of Eve's mind, confusion turned into anger.
“So what? Teenage pregnancy isn’t difficult or humiliating enough? What kind of a church would do that?”
She knew that Eve was right. She was right about every second that had passed since she had gotten to their county’s baptist church. Eve was as correct as the conscience in the back of Maggie’s head. Before she could respond the tapping of wooden soles against old tile got closer to the basement bathroom
They’d surely see the two girls in the stall with Maggie’s button up ridded above her stomach. Any support that Eve could offer would fail to get off the ground if the school knew that Eve knew already.
“Sit on my lap.” Eve directed hastily. The porcelain creaked as Maggie leaned her weight into Eve.
“I’m sorr-”Eve brought a finger to Maggie’s lip before the entrance to the bathroom flew open.
The two held their breath as the wooden soles of the sisters clacked against the bathroom tile, methodically scanning for somebody’s presence. Maggie's legs trembled as the awkward weight of her body began to weigh on Maggie's thighs. Against her will she felt her legs begin to dip.
No Maggie thought to herself as her effort verbalized in her voice as she strained to keep her legs.
She gasped as she felt her legs elevate over her body with two soft hands supporting her thighs. Maggie’s skirt rode up and bunched at her waist revealing Eve’s hands pressed into her bare thighs. Eve cringed and mouthed an apology.
The bodies of the two young women stacked together. Holding Maggie's butt against her hips while holding her legs up and slightly open.
Eve shallow breaths against the back of Maggie’s neck. The back of Maggie's head against Eve’s face with her legs spread slightly before her. From the corner of Maggie’s eye she saw Eve’s tongue pressed against the corner of her lip. Her tongue pressed against the inside of her mouth nervously. Maggie’s eyes darted away when she realized she was staring at her lips.
The knocks at the door made the two women jump and the shadows of several pairs of feet surrounding the stall loomed just beyond the door. Eve took a deep exhale and waited for her breath to become clear.
“Occupied.” She announced. The voices at the door didn’t recognize the voice nor the long legs under the stall
“I hear a new voice. Evangeline? Is that you there?” Her fingers twitched against Maggie's thighs while she got ready to respond.
“Yes. Again, I’m a little busy.”
“Of course, yes, let’s introduce ourselves later.” The crowd outside the door began to shuffle away from the bathroom.
“You haven’t seen one of your classmates, have you?” A pair of feet appeared under the stall again. The voice mere feet and a thin wall of plastic away from the two girls. “A young woman your age with blonde hair?”
A suspicious amount of time passed before Eve cleared her throat. “I said I’m taking a shit. GET OUT!” Her booming voice forced the rest of the bodies out the door, leaving all but the souls that entered the stall first.
Their hearts pounded, hoping that neither could feel the others that reverberated their ribcage. The more Maggie relaxed her shoulders the more she felt her body sink into Eve.
Her chest pressed into Maggie's back. So close to the body of another young woman. Maggie was lighter than Eve anticipated, but her weight was centralized densely on an area of her hips. Eve stared under her at the pregnant woman's position, her legs spread open with her stretched out skirt between them to admire her size from Maggie’s point of view. Eve couldn't ignore the scale of the woman's body before her. Thoughts flooded her mind while she looked; how it felt to carry the mass bound to her hips, to hide a life she had to grow in secret inside of her.
“You think they’re gone?” Eve asked from between the crook of Maggie's neck.
“We should wait a few minutes…” Maggie whispered. “-to be safe.”
When the footsteps cleared from outside Eve helped lower Maggie’s trembling legs onto the tile floor gently. They appreciated the dimness of the ding lights of the basement while they slowly escaped from the bathroom stall.
“Thank you for telling me. Um… If you need any help, with the baby, or anything… I’m here.”
“I… Thank you…”
~
It didn’t take long for Eve to notice Maggie’s absence. She took the last unoccupied bed in the students dorm and she was nowhere to be seen during open periods. By the second day without seeing her in the courtyards she asked around.
“There's another older student. Maggi-I mean-Magdelena?”
Each girl offered a different reaction.
“Now that you mention it, we see her a lot less these days.”
“She gets a lot of extra lessons with the sisters.”
“Yeah! I think she's going to become a nun!”
The uncertainty gave Eve a bad feeling. She wondered where they would hide a pregnant student outside of the meal and class times that Eve saw her. If the didn’t act quickly days could turn into weeks, and she wasn’t sure how many more she had to get closer to Maggie.
On the other end, Eve was just as elusive seeming to disappear for hours at a time that would spur panic amongst the boarding school teachers. The name of the oldest student flooded the conversation. They corroborated her stories from public schooling, they lambasted her for dozing off in classes, everybody seemed to have an opinion about Eve. Everybody but Maggie.
A pen rolled over by Maggie’s feet, interrupting her thoughts. Before she began the treacherous journey to pick it up she saw Eve’s long black hair coming back up to place it on her desk. At the clip a slip of paper attached to it.
On that tiny slip of paper held the first three words Maggie didn’t know she was waiting to hear. A combination of loneliness and hormones could make her cry at the tiny gesture.
‘How are you?’
She was fiddling with her pencil when Maggie turned behind to find her, satisfied to have finally caught her attention. Eve found something new to focus on across the classroom as Maggie’s pencil moved constantly against her notebook for the rest of the lecture until they were dismissed and Maggie was taken away from the dorms again. When Eve approached her locker at the end of the day she found a page of paper filled with writing
The hand writing started off bold and easy to read as its writer talked about the lesson. How bored she was. Of food that she wished she had. Of how lonely it felt when she wasn’t in classes.
The letter kept on going until her neat handwriting became a jumbled mess of sentences crammed between the lines. Eve made out the last words on the page.
‘I hope my baby is alright.’
Eve read the letter many times over as she laid in her dorm room bed with the other girls. She opened her blank notebook for the first time and began to write her response. She rambled like Maggie did, how she couldn’t even start to relate, how sad she felt towards the young girls in the dorm room, what, or rather, who she did to get her parents to enroll her into the same school. That it was her sexuality that landed her here in the first place.
Eve found her outside of the lockers without a nun in sight. It seemed like they found a place to finally see each other, if even for a moment between classes. .Relief painted on Maggie's face, followed by a twinge of embarrassment.
“It wasn’t too much, right?”
“Of course not. It’s the most interesting thing that’s happened since I’ve gotten here.” Eve shuffled for the loose papers in her folder. “Thanks for the notes.” Eve winked nestled within the blank sheets of instructions and bible passages was another piece of lined paper.
“And… I got you something when I was out.”
A plastic bag wrapped around a small trove that folded under its weight. In Maggie’s eyes it glowed. An inventory of treats curated from her rambling from a page of notes. Sweets, chips and drinks, all far from the concessions and odd budget treats that the church gave to the students.
“They’re going to be looking for me soon.” Maggie sighed. Eve shrugged.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”
Maggie’s eyes brightened as she clenched the letter that Eve gave her. She felt a flutter in her chest that was lost on her in her solitude.
Every day they honored this agreement.
Maggie through these pages. For she’d have to settle with the information about herself. Revealing details about themselves in little pages of notes and talking by the lockers.
Her thoughts about Maggie's letters didn't end. After the light came off. As she closed her eyes. Her heart pounded like everything inside of her was begging to be touched. Weeks passed quickly, her mind flooded with a very attractive woman her age.
She thought about how well her body was hidden behind the uniform beyond those sagging layers. She pictured what it would’ve felt like to press up against her again, to look down and see her body from her point of view in all of its fecundity. Has her body grown since they last talked? How much?
She found herself shifting against her mattress. Weeks of her disrupted routine caught up to her and lit a fire that she wouldn’t think to stoke in the dorm. Eve silently got up from her bed and out of the dorms. The floorboards creaked from underneath her as she stepped into the chapel lit dimly by the moon. She stayed still so her steps wouldn’t make any noise as she surveyed the area.
Bathrooms? No, somebody could come in there.She arrived at a wooden box with curtains on either end. A fault tapping far away. She only recognized what the sound was before it came too close to make her escape.
Footsteps.
They navigated surgically throughout the church, avoiding all of the creaks under them. Eve held her breath as the figure purposefully approached the closed door of the booth and entered onto the other side. The wooded benches creaked as the person took a seat just feet away from her.
“Hello father, are you there?” Eve’s eyes grew wide, recognizing Maggie’s voice from a meshed pane and a curtain away.
Her voice broke into shaky laughter. “I don’t know why now would be any different”
Wherever she was she knew she shouldn’t be. Should it be better to reveal herself immediately? To go to their rooms like nothing happened? She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off.
“What type of god are you? I’ve begged and prayed, more than I ever did when I was a little girl. Not just for my sake, but for my child. And all I receive is loneliness and isolation.”
A shaky sigh filled the silence.
“I wish I could say I’ve sinned. She’s the first person who hasn’t punished me for getting pregnant. The most loved I felt since-” The gentle rustling of cloth against flesh. Eve’s mind could only imagine what was going on through the screened wall between them. She choked out a sob that rattled in her chest with deep regret.
Eve’s breaths felt like they echoed against the walls. She felt like it could be nothing short of a miracle that she couldn’t hear her from the spaces between the wooden pane.
“If I could say I did what I wanted and made love with another woman. Just so I can know what’d happen if I sinned again. The punishment couldn’t be much worse. .If I up and fucked Eve! Hah-As if she’d want me like this…”
Maggie gasped as she heard the gentle knocks of the door of the confession booth. The loose hinges caused the door to slide open with the slightest touch, and with the growing space she saw Eve’s head poke into the door.
“If she did?”
Maggie was in her night gown. While the back was loose down to her ankles that sat stretched out to her knees. It took real time for Maggie to hide herself the sound of her belly rubbing against her legs as she closed her thighs. Maggie could only slump into her seat with embarrassed silence, her last sentence replaying in her head a hundred times over.
“D-did you hear?”
“Mhm. the whole thing.” She let the curtain fall behind her.
“Doing what you want, with who you want. With me? Is that right?” Her reassurance brought out its unmistakable truth. The setting brought out the most of Maggie’s words, in the face of the woman whose words were directed towards she wanted to be honest.
“I do want you, Maggie.” She reached her hand in the dark and found her hand against Maggie’s cheek. Her palm became damp with Maggie’s tears. Her chin tilted slightly towards the voice in the dark confession booth. “Do you want to find out what’ll happen together?”
Maggie sighed. “I don’t know what I’m doing…” She admitted with one hand against her baby bump.
“All you have to know is when to tell me to stop. Can you do that for me?”.
A soft “Mhm!” escaped her throat as Maggie nodded enthusiastically
Eve's knees descended to the archaic wooden floor. A closed booth in the night meant their eyes would never adjust to their closed surroundings. Eve didn’t need the light to navigate another woman’s body.
The same loose nightgown that Eve was wearing. Though it felt loose on her, it was stretched taut in every direction of Maggie’s body. Eve got down on her knees, letting her fingers draw the outline of Maggie’s body as she went down before reaching the hem of her nightwear.
The cloth clung to Maggie’s thighs as Eve lifted it over her knees. The curviness of her hips were nearly twice as wide as hers and her eyes were drawn to the stretched skin where they connected to her belly. Maggie shifted her exposed legs
Maggie's exhales were shaky in anticipation. She lifted the weight on her hips to assist Eve with sliding her underwear down one of her ankles.
Eve let out a gasp as she went between Maggie’s legs. The proof of her fertility that nestled over her head. Her plump pussy dominated her face. Unlike anybody Eve had ever gone down on. Her scent was intoxicating. She could drown inside of Maggie, and with weeks of celibacy she was ready to.
A chesty whimper escaped with her teasing.
Eve’s lips planted a line of kisses against Maggie’s inner thighs to get her acquainted with her mouth. Maggie moaned, feeling the soft, full lips of a woman working their way between her legs. Her chest felt like it was floating with a slight tickling sensation while she opened her legs wider. Her belly filled the open space until it touched the side of Eve’s face, hanging low as if begging for attention as well.
Eve felt the hip movements of her lover, her middle finger found the crook of her opening right under her clit, up and down before ending up at the spot where she started.
The sound of her wetness between her plump, swollen folds filled the air. If her face wasn’t eclipsed by her massive belly Eve could see the redness of her face through the darkness.
Her bare sex was exposed. The expecting woman quivered at every one of Eve’s exhales. Her pussy that was begging to be stroked. She pulsed against every one of Eve’s breaths as her opening begged for attention. With two fingers parked against her lips, she sank into Maggie’s pillowy folds.
“Mnnnnhhh!” her back arched, levitating her heavy midsection from her seat. Maggie’s hot insides welcomed Eve’s fingers that clenched around Eve’s fingers. Her insides ripened with pregnancy refusing to let go. Even in the dark Eve’s hands were masterful, drawing the form of Maggie’s vulva while Eve teased her opening. She tasted the fluids that drippled out as Eve continued to finger her.
Maggie's breath hitched when she felt movement deep within her stomach. Her baby began to kick in response to the strongest surges of pleasure Maggie felt in many months. Her skin stretched in opposite directions while the sensations made her unborn child shift positions inside of their mother.
Her body was at the liberty of the child inside of her and the woman servicing her between her legs. Eve’s fingers glided in and out of her. The pumps of her fingers rippled against Maggie's thighs as her pussy took Eve effortlessly to the base of her knuckles. Eve watched her fingers go in and out of Maggie closely, knowing that at the tip of her fingers was the area her baby was growing.
Maggie gasped as Eve’s fingers popped free. Her hips grinded in the air subconsciously
Her heavy hips that she once felt on her lap. They were steady against her face. This far between Maggie’s legs she could look up and the midsection that hung heavily against her face. It dominated everything that she could see, larger than her head and heavy. She had to lift her belly to find a comfortable place to nestle her face.
With Maggie's pregnant belly parked against her forehead she could feel every breath against her. Maggie’s shaky legs and her heels climbed against the booth. Both knees pressed up against the cramped walls. She could feel the baby moving against her forehead as their mother contorted under her tongue.
Eve’s breath hitched, overwhelmed with the body of a woman swollen full of life before her. The way Maggie looked motherly with both hands on her belly drove her mad to indulge a partner in such a condition. Eve lifted her gown and put her hand between her legs, slid her underwear to the side, and began rubbing herself to the fullness that surrounded her head.
Maggie's mind went fuzzy at the thought that being eaten was for Eve’s pleasure as much as her own. A sexual young woman. Eve read every one of her breaths. The quickening of her tongue to go faster. The spots that made her clench her thighs and roll.
“Nhhg- fuck-!’ Maggie's high pitched squeals filled the booth.
Adorable. Eve thought as she worked herself between her legs faster.
The feeling of the smooth, tight skin of her heavy stomach was intoxicating. She could feel every breath, every pulse of life from within Maggie as she pleasured her. Big kicks from inside shifting the direction of her belly as her baby rampaged inside of her.
Eve drew her tongue across her opening and ending with an audible suckle of her labia. Her tongue moved in accordance to every hitch of Maggie's breath. Eve devoured her thoroughly, indulging herself with Maggie's ripe body. She’d never experienced a lover’s body both so full and so sensitive. Her sensitivity, her swollen womb in Eve’s hands and all of that pressure in her pelvis.
“I’m re-mmmnnghhh-I’m so close.” Eve’s fingers walked over the bottom of her lower stomach.
Maggie began to hump her face. Her movements twitchy and heavy that pushed Eve’s head back and mashed her tongue into her lover’s pelvis. Maggie could feel Eve's lips tighten around her.
“Use my face to cum.” Eve’s voice came from tight lips. Her excitement was tangible as she let out a low moan before putting her mouth to Maggie’s pussy once more.
Her request was tantalizing. Maggie's ankles clasped around the back of Eve’s head. Her calves rubbed together as her thighs made a mess of Eve’s hair. Every other breath smothered Eve’s airways with Maggie’s skin
Both of her arms carried the weight to hold her pregnant body behind her. She thought of Eve’s soft lips while she grinded her hips to remember the features of Eve’s pretty face between her legs. Her knees retracted into her body, smushing Eve’s head against her tightened squirming belly.The weight of her hips swayed unapologetically, grinding pleasure out from her new partner. Her thrusts where a freight train with her heavy round grinded recklessly into Eve’s head.
“Ahh-ahh-AAAAAAHH!”Her squeals of elation were loud enough to hear the acoustics of the steeple outside. Eve’s lips tightened around her as the two women came together in the confession both.
Her belly squeezed and contorted as she came, Contracted ab muscles drew the shape of a downward facing body inside of her. Deep breaths returned it to its original rounded shape as Maggie slumped backwards into the confession booth. Slowly Eve removed her from the crevice between Maggie’s thigh and belly.
The two took reeling chesty gasps as Maggie finally lowered her bare legs against Eve’s shoulders. Eve wiped the sides of her mouth and licked the fluids off of her fingers. As the more experienced lesbian pulled away she admired how beautiful Maggie looked when she was satisfied in her pregnant body.
The entrance of the confession booth drew Eve’s figure in the moonlight. She looked divine in her own nightgown. Maggie’s eyes adjusted to the dark in her post orgasm state. She came closer and pressed her damp lips against Maggie’s forehead, for a moment she could be convinced Eve was an angel.
Their faces came closer.
Then they heard more footsteps. Nearly a dozen feet spread across the church's creaky floorboards.
“We have to go!” Maggie cried, sliding her underwear haphazardly.
The two turned towards the common dorms to find the hallway patrolled by multiple nuns. “Come into my room!” Eve followed her into the stairs into the hallway she wandered into her first day at the school. Halfway up the stairs they made eye contact with a sea of black robes. As they turned around, another party caught up behind them.
~
The morning after the girls were sent to their rooms they were silent. With no notes to exchange
The two girls exchanged glances, knowing there had to be some punishment for being caught with each other after curfew. The rest of their class continued to trickle in the first of the morning.
“Before we get started. Evangeline, may you please come to the front of the class?”
Every conversation stopped in its tracks. Eve looked around to all the faces looking at her with dread, most of all, Maggie's, whose color had been drained from her peach skin. The creaking of the floorboards had never been loaded as she took the steps that elevated her to the forefront of the classroom.
“Evangeline was caught last night, influencing our own Magdelena to come with her late into the night. Please face the class.”
Something whistled against the air, the air that cracked against the back of her thighs with a force that felt like it sliced her legs open.
“FUCK!” Eve screamed
Before she could recover the cane wound up again, the second strike echoed against the brick walls as Eve cursed and wailed. The pain sucked the air out of her lungs and forced her to keel over against the desk. Repeatedly striking against her only area of burned skin. The class remained silent, the room filling only with the strikes against Eve’s skin. She couldn’t see the thing that struck her skin
The only thing worse than the pain was the humiliation. The students knew this was the punishment of even trying to talk to Maggie. Through blurry eyes she looked for something to make it stop. Her hands sprawled looking for something, anything to swing back at the sister with.
Her skin was aflame. Another strike would break her skin.
“Stop!”
Eve didn’t need to look up to recognize the voice. The seat in the back of the classroom as the oldest student before her clumsily rose to her feet. Maggie’s journey to the front of the classroom made the nun take many steps away from Eve.
“Stay where you are!” In the corner of Eve’s eye she could see the sister back away with her bamboo cane in hand. The nodes of the wood that struck her like barbs.
“I told her to meet me. In my condition its getting harder to-”
“That's enough!” The words came out in desperation, as if they would stop at anything to make sure Maggie didn't speak another word. Mutters broke out around the classroom.
The base of the cane tapped the ground for a moment. A sigh of frustration that only Eve was close enough to hear left the nuns' lips.
“Both of you, be seated.”
Maggie waited for Eve to limp into her arms. She held her arm and walked at the pace of her slow waddle with a protective hand over her hip.
“I’m sorry…” she pleaded upon seeing Eve’s teary, red eyes.
“Thank you.” Eve muttered between sobs.
~
After the bell rang 20 times Eve looked out onto the courtyard. A room at the corner of the building. The lights flickered on and off twice before the blinds opened.
She climbed up the tile columns. Her button up and cardigans obviously stained from the weathered stone. She slung a plastic bag over the window before swinging her leg into the room and rolling in.
Maggie leaned against her bed, swaying gently like the open curtains of the window with her brow slightly curled. She took a deep breath while rubbing her belly against her night gown.Her eyes opened with genuine surprise to see Eve so soon.
“So this is where they leave you.” Eve said, slinging another back of snacks into Maggie’s room. She was running out of places to put the trash from her previous cravings.
“You’re not even trying to hide these anymore, huh?”
“They’ve been leaving me a lot more since almost revealing my pregnancy to everybody.”
“You’re getting bold. I like that.” Eve looked, “You’re really not going to confirmation classes.”
“Oh yeah. There’s no way they could hide me from everybody else at a new place. It’s too risky for them.” Maggie’s eyes immediately shot open.
“Forget about me! What’re they going to do when they realize you’re not in the group?”
“They counted my head on the bus. I just slipped out when they weren’t looking. All they know, I finally ran away.”
Maggie chuckled with how casually Eve admitted to slipping away from the offsite trip. She threw around her pillows and lifted up her phone from the pile. “Look what I’ve managed to get from scaring them with my pregnancy.” She smirked
Eve flopped on the only bed, which had been taken over by the school's isolated pregnant student.
Maggie’s phone was still on to a picture of Maggie in her most natural look dawned with all of her piercings and dark makeup. Maggie went back and forth from the picture to the woman in front of her.
“Oh! That’s what you’re always licking!” She said, pointing to the piercing on the corner of her lip.
“Yeah, that was my first. I didn’t realize how much I did that until I got-” Maggie looked at her expectantly. “Until I met you.”
“Let me pull up my instagram!” Posed up next to all of her friends. Her hair was longer. All of the pictures with relatives that wore crosses, family portraits next to churches. For a prolific poster it felt eerie to see the flow of posts suddenly end. With Maggie in front of her, recalling all of the memories caught on picture she felt a little better.
“I forgot I looked like that.” Maggie said, looking down at the body that had changed remarkably over the long months. SHe lifted her gown up above her shirt to Eve’s surprise. Her eyes darted away as her hands ran up and down the length of her belly before lingering around her hips.
When Eve readied herself to stare at Maggie’s bare body she saw her bump descend far below her hips, weighing heavily down into her pelvis. “Woah, that’s a lot lower than it’s been.”
“Yeah, they feel a lot lower in my hips lately. I'm getting so big. Its just…” Her hands hovered around her midsection as her hushed voice held back a squeal of excitement.
“Ahhh! It's so there!” Excitement to talk about her unborn child. Eve looked at her with admiration in her eyes, trying to shake away the feelings of seeing Maggie glow over her body. By the time she noticed her tick begin it was already too late.
Maggie’s eyes narrowed with a smile. “Are you getting turned on?”
“What?”
“You can’t lie to me, I already know your tell!” Eve’s pale cheeks flushed red being read so easily. For Eve’s reputation she wondered how many others have seen such an expression on her face.
“You make being pregnant look really pretty…”
Maggie clasped Eve's hands and pressed them against her bare stomach, allowing her to feel her warm, delicate womb fluttering with life. The beauty of her pregnant body on full display and her own miracle that she nurtured. Maggie craved the taller girl’s touch.
Eve shifted closer in the bed to carry Maggie’s body. They were finally in each other's arms. They felt each other's warmth. The weight of motherhood that Eve carried in her hands.
“Wait.”
“What's wrong?”
“We have the whole school to ourselves. Do you want to… use the whole school?”
Maggie learned into Eve's ear.
“... is that crazy?”
The heavy door creaked as its handle was turned. For the first time she didn’t worry about who could hear her. Her pregnancy, proof of Maggie's child that she carried was finally allowed to be revealed in the school.
The place that had been a prison for. Maggie felt like open air in Eve’s presence. These feelings were overwhelming in the expecting mother as she buzzed down the hall they first met.
It felt like Eve could finally stretch her legs. Free to do what she wanted she found herself with the adulthood she dreamed of with a woman by her side. She turned to see her giddy stride made considerable distance from her pregnant lover. Eve held back laughter as she doubled back to Maggie slowed by her waddle.
“Ah-hahahaha!” Maggie’s laughter filled the old church. “We’re alone! We’re actually alone!”
Their giggles filled their hallway with their heavy footsteps, chasing each other light moonlight through the cathedral like succubi for the other. Before stopping at the front of the prayer hall. Maggie stuck her fingers in the holy water tub and facetiously laid a prayer to the father, son, and holy spirit. Before splashing the droplets holy water at Eve.
“Tsss.” Eve hissed like the sound of evaporating as she pretended to be repelled by the droplets. Maggie giggled before Eve by the hand and guided her into the empty hall. She couldn’t remember the last time she walked so quickly, needing to place her other hand atop her belly to keep from swaying. Eve lagged behind, guided by the pregnant students' excited skips as she admired her lover brimming with excitement as she saw somebody closer to who Maggie was before the school.
The two stopped by the carpet by the altar. “This is where they usually put the arch for weddings.” Maggie looked behind her, beaming at the woman following her down the carpet.
“Hehe, I feel like a bride walking down the aisle.”
As Eve followed she slowed as Maggie did, she let go of her hand and put both against her stomach and let out a deep breath with her eyes closed. “Woah, are you okay?” Eve asked, protectively coming to her side.
“Yeah. I just moved a little quickly.” Maggie sighed as she caught her breath. She turned behind her, sheepishly approaching the girl who managed to stay by her side. “Nevermind me! You're all wet…”
As much as she tried to hide it, her hands were shaking as they approached her collar, hovering before touching her uniform. Maggie’s hands lifted up Eve’s cardigan over her body, pulling up her shirt over her stomach, the first piece of bare skin Maggie had seen of Eve.
Her slow, steady hands popped the buttons on Eve’s top as if she was counting the buttons it would take to free Eve's body. She lifted off the buttoned up curtains away from Eve's body. Her belly pressed into Eve slightly to get close enough to unclasp her bra. This close to her face she saw the pink in her cheeks She shifted the cups from her perky tits, leaving Eve topless in front of the empty chapel.
Maggie’s tentative fingers explored Eve’s body. She forgot what a flat stomach had felt like.
“I think you'd be really pretty pregnant, too.”
Eve's breath hitched as her lower stomach was stroked by the back of Maggie's fingers. The pregnant woman's stomach laid boldly between them, demanding either woman's attention. If her stomach was sensitive now she wondered how Maggie’s in its heavy, bulging form,
Maggie’s eyelids fluttered as Eve’s hands snuck up from under her stretched out top. She craved her touch from their last escapade and leaned into her fingers to show her graciousness.
Eve began to undo the buttons on Maggie's uniform. Each button releasing the tension of the growing body it tried to hide. Her collar sprang open to her growing bust that popped free and filled her bra the way her chest needed. She got to the final buttons and her garments began to slide over her shoulders before being caught around her belly. A stare, and a pause before Eve unclasped the final link that slid her shirt over her shoulders.
Soft and heavy, their size spilled from Eve's fingertips as she tried to support the expectant mothers massive tits. In the dark she felt the extenuating pores from around her areolas before getting to her erect nipples.
The more she played with her sensitive, rubbery nips she felt a moisture pad against her fingertips with a gasp. “Sorry, they’ve started leaking.” Eve felt her mouth water to the wetness on her fingertips before taking them away from Maggie's sensitive breasts.
“You're so soft… And curvy.” The wandering hands of a sapphic virgin. “I want to kiss you so badly…” Eve holding Maggie’s blond curls while Maggie let Eve’s jet black hair flow between her fingertips
Their bodies melted together as they were finally given each other’s presence uninterrupted. Weeks of questioning and desire built up in one night of an empty church that oppressed the two of them. Their breasts fitting into place against the others cleavage for their lips came together.
The feeling of another woman’s lips made Maggie feel like she could fly. Her fingers wanted to sink into all of the skin on Eve’s long legs. She wanted to clasp her arms around her narrow waist and never let go.
Fingers roamed around nude bodies.The woman before her wasn’t a before picture of her pregnancy, but a new body entirely. Eve admired the curve of her stomach right under her hips. To her sides were hips that had widened in preparation for childbirth. Heavy breasts that sagged under their own weight. Soft enough to roll between her fingers. In the dim light Eve saw her body decorated in stretchmarks
Their noises echoed throughout the chapel. Walls that were usually filled with prayer now echoed with their simultaneous moans. Maggie found herself looking over her shoulder to see dozens of people entering the church, but in Eve’s hands they disappeared. Eve kissed her like she was the only thing that mattered, herself and her child, who Eve had placed a hand over as she came close.
They pulled away panting before stumbling against the side of the altar. Their foreheads against each other.
She came closer to her partner again, taking Maggie into her arms as close as their hips could get. The two swayed gently, feeling Maggie's bump nestle safely between them.
“I want to know who you were before this place.”
“I want to show you.” Maggie got close enough to her to feel the warmth of each other. She leaned her belly into Eve, feeling her partner yield to the part of Maggie she was so fixated on. “I'll make it more obvious than it already is.”
She pinned her against the altar and guided her down against the soft carpet. Eve submitting under the weight of Maggie’s pregnant belly. Maggie's heart fluttered at how beautiful Eve looked under her, in a pool of jet black hair and awe she felt straddled by her pregnant partner.
“This is the position I got pregnant in.” Maggie chuckled. Eve felt no better than a teenage boy. If it was Maggie on top of her she would’ve gotten her pregnant too. Maggie’s hips clumsily grinded into hers, her desperation in her pregnant body charmingly hot as her belly rolling against her desired the next hump that would take her breath away.
Maggie leaned forward to descend over Eve's body but was stopped by her bump that flattened slightly against Eve. She let her tits hang over Eve's face, moaning softly every time her nipples grazed Eve's cheeks. Eve felt a streak of warm fluid draw against her face before Maggie jolted up.
“Ah! My milk!” Maggie gasped. “I'm getting your face wet.” Eve rubbed the wet trail on her cheek and put those fingers on her mouth. There was enough colostrum on her face to taste the fresh nutiness Maggie’s body began creating for her child. The intimacy of sucking from a mothers breast wasn’t lost on either woman, the two looked equally as shocked that the other enjoyed it as much as they did. “Can you feed me more?”
Maggie swallowed and lowered her leaky nipple towards Eve’s mouth. She arched her back and sighed leaned forward for her heavy breast to flatten against Eve’s lips. The suction of her lips connected the two together as Eve fed with her body. She rocked back and forth while she was pleasured from the stimulation against her nipples. Her forehead furrowed, Maggie’s belly parked between them started to stiffen at the stimulus yet her hips did not stop.
An audible pop as Maggie released from her lap. Warm and taut. Their hips trembled against each other. Eve’s lips were covered in milk and Maggie’s eyes were lost in a lusty daze. Maggie’s knees crawled themselves down from Eve’s lap.
“You poor thing. That has to be rough on your knees.” Eve doted. She removed the cushions tied on the chairs behind the altar and set them down for a comfortable surface for Maggie to support her heavy body. Her body came unbalanced with a giggle as she landed softly on the pillows.
“Eve.” She said from her side. Maggie set one heel flat on the ground and splayed herself open in the position most comfortable for her heavy body. ”Please fuck me.”
Eve paused for a moment. Not for her sake, but for her partners. She began to straddle Maggie’s leg and held up her other leg in a position that rested naturally for her pregnant body. Maggie's heart pounded as she laid on her side, unsure of what to expect. Eve walked her legs between Maggie's getting closer to her sex.
This close to her nude, delicate body Eve knew she’d never want to love anybody better than she did in this moment.
The heat between her legs that she wanted to share with the poor pregnant woman trapped inside this church. She thought of this moment since the day they met, the day that she could show Maggie a new world.
With a push of Eve’s hips their pelvis connected each other's bodies together. The more she pushed her hips the bore she sunk into Maggie's plush pussy until their lips flattened together.
“Mnhhhhh~” Maggie moaned. She felt like she was losing her virginity again.
The sound of their sexes was audible as they pulled away like wet kisses. Their vulvaes each try to swallow each other whole. They shared the warmth as each of their entrances became slick to the other’s wetness.
The thigh Eve carried was heavy. When she looked down there was a lot of woman between her legs. Her eyes were nearly shut with the corner of her lips curled up in the most blissful slumber. Her belly was carried by the cushions on the ground. If there was a woman she wanted to spoil it was Maggie. To carry her sins that way nobody else had.
Eve’s laborious whimpers flowed with dedication. Maggie’s body felt worshipped after nearly 10 months of being hidden. Her question in the confession booth was answered. The punishment of sin was worth feeling this way between Eve’s legs.
The wetness of her nipples began to dribble down the side of her breasts as their bodies rocked back and forth with Eve's thrusts, soaking into the cushions beneath them. Maggie kept a hand on Eve's hips as she thrusted, feeling her curves rhythmically roll to nestle each other into their bodies.
Everywhere she thrust she was met with Maggie’s warm embrace. The touch of a soon to be mother Her body was fluid, rolling with the weight of the fruits of her pregnancy.
Their breaths synced while mounting pleasure bloomed within them. Lost in the moment she found her hand atop something firm and round. With every bump and grind she felt how her movements swayed Maggie’s body. She pictured the little life that Maggie had grown in her body, the love and dutiful effort of a mother hidden away behind the church's walls. Maggie kept Eve’s hand over her unborn child.
Maggie’s brow clenched as the round between them began to tighten. Her chesty, guttural groans got louder as Eve felt her body climb to elation. Atop Maggie’s bump their fingers interlocked to share the pleasure they found together.
“Ah-ah-ahhhoooouuuuu!” Eve vocalized as she mustered the rest of the control in her hips between Maggie’s legs. Eve caught herself with a hand before her body gave in. Thighs trembling as she leaned softly against Maggie's body.
“A-AAAhhh~!” A chesty yelp escaped Maggie’s throat as her body twisted and contorted between Eve’s legs while her stomach receded sharply into her body.
She let out a sharp cry when both women heard what sounded like a water balloon popping inside of Maggie. In an instant a rush of fluids spilled from inside of Maggie all at once. Eve jolted backwards against the warm water that cascaded onto her thigh and continued to dribble out from between her lovers legs.
They stared at the fluid that stained the red carpet in stunned silence.
“Was… did you squirt?”
“I’ve never squirted in my life…”
Instead of slowly recovering as Maggie had before she stayed in position. With a hand over her stomach gripping at her belly as she receded into her core. The movement, the pressure, the dropping, it all caught up to Maggie in her one moment of release surrounded by nobody but Eve.
“U-unghhh!” She writhed on the floor, trying to protect her own child for the contracting of her full term belly. “My-my water broke! Ahhh-AAAAHH!” She cried. A contraction seized her midsection mercilessly, as if her body recognized an opportunity to give birth in safety.
“Maggie, we gotta get you to the hospital.” She said, gathering their clothes from the floor. She was stopped by Maggie fighting through her labor pains to grab her forearm.
“No, no! Please, Eve, they're not gonna let you stay!” Eve halted and turned around.
“The hospital, they’re-Aannnggh!! They’re gonna make you leave! I can’t-I can't do this without you.” She felt how Maggie desperately clung onto her. Fear and adrenaline were in her eyes. She thought of how much of her pregnancy she had to go through alone already. She knew she could be making a mistake, but how could she leave her alone when it was for her to give birth?
Eve bit her cheeks. “Do you feel like you need to push?” She said as she joined Maggie on her knees.
She shook her head “They feel like the worst cramps ever.”
Eve cringed. “Okay. Maybe don’t push yet.”
She couldn’t hide the pains that were bothering her for the last few hours any longer. Her face scrunched. “Unnnnnnnghhhhh!” She grunted from deep within her chest.
Her neck flexed and her teeth clenched. Her thick, wavy hair began to cling to her forehead and dampen with her sweat. As she fought against something that predated her religion. It was only when she realized how much noise she made at the end of her contraction that made her body come back down to earth.
“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” she cried weakly, embarrassed for the situation that made her appear less than flattering.
“Don’t apologize. Those are really pretty noises.” Eve reassured her laboring partner.
“Let's get you upright. Can you stand?” Maggie stared at her core between her legs, exhausted from the pains that were working against her all night. She shook her head helplessly.
“How about your knees?” Maggie took Eve’s hand reluctantly, and on a count of three the two women rose up to their knees with each other in their arms.
Maggie’s eyes grew wide when she felt the full force of gravity act upon the head that spread her insides open. She clung to Eve while her body moved into action beyond her control.
“It's slipping outtttt.” Maggie slurred as she squeezed into her birthing partner’s body.
“What??”
“Mmmmmfffghoming out!!” As her pleas turned inaudible Eve scrambled to look between her legs to find anything that Maggie could be talking about. Despite a descended orb that laid at the very base of her stomach there was nothing exposed.
“I-is it out?” Maggie asked desperately. Eve wished that the answer was yes. Maggie was desperate and exhausted while she looked for any answer as to what her body was doing. “I… Don’t see anything yet.”
The laboring woman let out a groan in frustration at the pain she already experienced.
“I can check inside of you if you can handle it?”
Maggie nodded tentatively as she shifted her knees one at a time to open her legs, unsure if she could ever move from her position again. The vagina of a woman she just had sex with. Maggie bit her lips and braced herself as Eve's fingers entered her slowly.
Her digits flinched as they made contact with something round inside of Maggie.Just inches inside of Maggie’s vagina was a wet, solid sphere that spread the young woman's walls open. The lip of her cervix was nowhere to be found.
“What is it?” She asked upon seeing Eve's startled face. Her hands left her lover's body, not forgetting the feeling that was just at the tip of her fingertips. “The head is right there.
After a few minutes Maggie’s deep breaths became strained. Her chin raised to the ceiling as if bracing herself against her own body. “Nnngh! It's different” Maggie choked out as her attention was pulled to the energy that gripped her core.
“Preeeshuree. There's so much pressure!” Her voice strained and cut off in her throat. It felt like she was going to explode if she continued to wait.
“Okay Maggie, push!”
Maggie went silent as she bore down. Her forehead scowled and her cheeks puffed with air. The slightest pressure relieved as she felt the sphere inside of her spread its way through her birth canal. But replacing it was a stinging burn as her lips began to part around the head. Her breath caught as she tried to recover, and before she was ready the contraction was already over.
Her breathing paced as she felt the wasted energy of the head locking back inside of her. Fear manifested around her grip around Eve's shoulders. She needed a minute to collect herself, to tell herself that everything was going to be okay.
But her body wouldn’t listen.
Her body fought to get her baby out, whether or not she was ready. And what felt like a moment later another contraction ripped through her unprepared body. The pressure accumulated against her midsection while the pain of her opening seized her.
“IT HURTS SO MUCH.” She thrashed in Eve’s arms. Her support loosening as her body involuntarily tried to run from the pain. Panic and agony controlled her tightened body. She until her voice went hoarse. For as much as the struggle the body hadn’t progressed an inch.
“Maggie. I need you to relax, okay?” Her voice trolled, her hips swayed wildly trying to move the pressure that mounted between her pelvis.She was scared of the force that was moving inside of her that threatened to open her up. She was frustrated by how little she had moved from giving birth to her baby and where her folds halted there was a burning that overwhelmed her senses.
“I feel like I’m doing a bad job.” She sobbed. Tears ran down her face. The anxiety of the next contraction was on her mind.
“No-no! You’re having a baby, Maggie.” Eve said, cupping her head. “You're doing a good job. Say you're doing a good job.”
“Mnnhhhm-doing good job.”
“Again.”
“Ahhhhm doing a good jobbbbb-unnnnngggghh!” Her self affirmation was cut off by the onset of her next surge. With Maggie distracted, even just a little bit, her birth began to progress. The bulge inside spread to her entrance with every pulse closer to revealing her baby to a world outside of Maggie’s womb
Eve placed her hand in Maggie's lower stomach. Her hand sank well into her swollen uterus, surprising the two with how empty Maggie's womb already felt.
“Right here Maggie!”
Eve could feel Maggie's hips tremble with the effort. Her chubby pussy bulged around a round head. Her opening was the size of a softball.
Her eyes shot open with a deep breath as she leaned into Eve’s arms. Her slightly damp button up was still in arms reach. Eve wiped her lover’s forehead with the wet collar before Maggie turned to her with wide eyes. Her look of absolute vulnerability, her body submitting to the sensations within her.
Eve watched as Maggie's body opened up around the head. The baby that she saw inside of her slowly entering the world through Maggie's pussy. Maggie suddenly removed her lips from Eve’s face. The progression of her birth slowed again as the laboring mother reeled in Eve’s arms.
Eve reached between Maggie’s legs and felt at her flushed, swollen opening. Beyond the skin of her hips she felt the head parting her. Her once puffy folds now stretched with turgor around the massive head emerging from between her legs. “You're so tight.” Eve sighed, stroking the small part of the sphere engaged between her legs
She grunted questioningly when she felt the next stir begin within her. Her voice piqued as she felt her tissues begin to split with different parts of her body unprepared for the same action. Before the surge forced the body through her aching hole she felt Eve’s fingers lock around the head and the familiar pressure welled deep within her belly again.
“Let your body stretch, Maggie.” Her hands gripped onto Eve’s forearms and dug into her skin for any release for the pressure inside of her. She clung onto the last person in the world who could help her by the forearm and curled her knuckles into her
“But-but I need to push!” Eve touched Maggie's bulging, stretched skin. The feeling of muscle about to tear.
“Mnhhhgh I. Can’t. Stop it!”She looked at Eve with fury in her eyes. She had just found how she could finally bring her baby into the world.
“Please try your best.” Eve gave Maggie her hand and braced herself. She knew for this one second Maggie hated her. But if it could stop her from tearing and bleeding out onto the carpet before her she had to try
“OWWWWWGHHHH!” Maggie sucked the air sharply into her lungs as the contraction ended at the peak of the crown with the widest section of her baby's head stretched open her vagina. Her hands clenched over Eve’s palm with inhuman force. Eve bit her forearm as she bore only a fraction of the pain Maggie went through to deliver her child.
From beneath Eve’s fingers she could feel Maggie's pussy retract ready for the girth of the rest of the head. With plenty of the powerful contraction to go, Eve's jaw unclenched.
“PUSH!”
Her thighs spasmed with the enormous effort it took for her to deliver the head. Building to a peak, the forehead stretched Maggie out, climbing closer and closer to her body's limit. The crown caught in the tightness of her entrance.
Maggie took deep gasps as if she emerged from underwater.
“Can we kiss?” Maggie whined with her bottom lip pouted.
She could feel Maggie's body melt from under her. Their naked bodies mashed together while Maggie's baby emerged slowly. Their foreheads together while Maggie let out a shaky, but controlled exhale as if Eve's kiss breathed new life into her.
She whimpered with tears in her eyes. “Is it almost there?”
“One more push and the head is out!” Her core clenched with the next contraction. The pressure building against the head within her.
“ANNNNGH!” Maggie threw her head back as the head finally released with an audible pop and a squirt of fluids. Her legs jerked as her folds retracted down to the baby's brow.
It felt like the delivery was ripping apart her body. Exhaustion caught up to her legs and she felt her body fading.
“I need… Lie down…” She heaved. With Eve supporting all of her weight her body was now flat on its back. The danging head outside of her burned as she moved, not giving her a moment of respite.
Every breath was a lurch of her chest. She fought for every inch of her child's delivery. The moon was well above them now. The ceiling felt high and its walls vast, the chapel always had the ability to make her feel small.
“-aggie?” Eve's voice called out to her. She wasn't alone. She hadn't been alone for some time now, and soon, she would finally be able to hold her baby.
“Can I feel…?”
“Yeah!” Eve encouraged her. She excitedly guided her trembling hands between her own legs.
Maggie’s voice began to break before the words came out. “Oh my god!” She cried
Although she could feel the movement of the head as she touched it it was something that distinctly wasn't hers. Her child being born. Oddly shaped and wet. The more her fingertips graved the body sticking out of her she wilt little wispy strands move against her fingertips. The circular shape of a soft, tiny ear.
Her hands went to the outside of her vagina. The edge against her pussy from the shoulders parked right against her entrance.
“Hold… Hold the head.” Maggie slurred High off of adrenaline and elation while the woman she just made love to was delivering her baby. How Eve's careful hands felt against her body. Eve's tongue was at the corner of her lip in focus, rubbing the child between her legs between the contraction that was going to bring Maggie’s baby into the world.
“I want this moment to last forever.” She admitted. Eve met her gaze and nodded with a smile. Her legs shifted in discomfort. Moving before a contraction locked her into position
The body began to rotate, Maggie gasped as she felt limbs turn inside of her birth canal.
In contrast to the crown the base of the baby's face came out steadily against Maggie's pushes. More of the body emerged into Eve's hands.Maggie’ face scrunched Focus, controlled pushes as Maggie delivered the neck. The progress slowed as the shoulders engaged within her.
With the shoulder’s more than halfway out the baby nearly slid out with every breath. Eve supported the body while Maggie lifted the bottom of her thighs. Her chin dug into her chest and she bore down with one more contraction to feed the pressure that wanted to bring her baby into the world.
“HnnnnngggggHHHHH!!” Maggie cried as she pushed with as much energy as she could muster. It wasn’t much, but it was her own. The other shoulder popped free from her opening and Maggie was able to pull the baby from between Maggie's legs with no resistance.
A wet cough filled the room and cries filled the acoustics of the empty church. Eve held up Maggie’s child to show the mother in the moonlight. Tiny and perfect Eve wrapped her up in one one of the buttonups on the floor and dialed 911.
~
However discrete they tried to be, it was impossible for the others in the waiting room to ignore Eve seated before a police officer.
“To repeat, you’re reporting battery ”
Eve shook her head, wondering if her exhaustion made her hear the officer incorrectly. “They kept a pregnant woman from access to medical treatment. That has to be a charge, kidnapping, something like that?”
“Miss, that case will blow those church doors wide open, we just need your account to get our foot in the door.” The officer commented before taking a long sigh.
“We’ve been getting reports of abuse from alumni years after they’ve graduated. You’re the first personBetween you and me. I hope the charges stick.”
It felt like it had been an eternity since they got to the emergency room. The lack of news made her restless into the early hours of dawn. She stared at every head that popped in and out of the waiting room until one finally scanned the room
“Eve? She's ready for visitors!”
She followed closely, seeing other patients on their hospital beds. “You’re a really good friend.” The nurse reassured
“Yeah… friend…”
Their steps slowed and before she saw Maggie in bed with her baby in her arms.
“Mom and baby are doing fantastic. Isn't that right mom?” The bags under Maggie's eyes as many hands were around her helping the newborn latch to her nipple. She sighed in relief as she finally felt the baby cling to her and begin to feed. Her shoulders dropped as she saw Eve come to her side.
“We’ll let you two have some time! Get some rest when you can!”
“Ugh. They say that but they’re gonna come back in like an hour.” Maggie whined. Though sweaty and exhausted, the Maggie before her was a completely different woman.
“How’re you doing?” Eve asked as she leaned against the bed rails. Also exhausted from the events of the night.
“It feels like I just squeezed a basketball out of me. But…” She lifted her suckling child, reminding herself that the moment was real with her baby’s weight “She's so worth it.” Although there was nothing more Maggie wanted to do but sleep, one question kept repeating in her head.
“What now?”
“I was going to get a job and an apartment. One job gets us the room with plenty of money leftover.”
Maggie’s eyes were glazed in exhaustion. There was no point in being suave about it. “Maggie, live with me.” She reclined back in her bed, a lifetime of stress melted away knowing that the girl who took her away from the church wasn’t going anywhere.
“Here, I’ll take her. Go get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Eve didn’t have to tell her twice. In a moment Maggie fell into a deep sleep. Inside Eve’s arms she carried the product of Maggie’s sin. A precious new life that deserved all of the love their mother had to give. Though present for the last month of her pregnancy, Eve knew she loved this child, too.If the consequences of Eve’s sin were a child and their mother resting peacefully in bed next to her, surely sinning wasn’t as bad as the church led either woman to believe.
i wanna be scared and straining with my chin tucked to my chest and my clitdick ACHING while you hold my legs apart and remind me to give little grunty pushes to that huuuge, stretching, buuuulging pre-crown so i don't tear. uh, uh, uhh, uuuuhhhhhnnnnNNNNNNNN...!!! you tell me not to hold the push that long, that i need to stretch, that i have to pant it out. but i can't stop. my body won't let me stop. my abs hurt, my womb is shoving itself downward so hard my lower spine and my hips feel like they're going to break. every involuntary shove of my muscles makes my huge taut belly shrink and harden so much it scares me. i try to pant out to you that i can't stop pushing like you told me to but all that comes out is- i cant- icant i uuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhh...! uh UHH. OUUHH OW !!! it burns it burns !!!! stop stop it stings so much it's right there it's BURNING MY LIPS!
you tell me yes, i know. i know it burns. i know it hurts but you have to push right now. you need to breathe deep once and push hard!
you finally give me permission to let out one of those horrible, huge crushing pushes that my body wants so badly to do. i cry in relief and fear of the pain of my crown returning.
breathe, you tell me. pant, pant and push! pant and push! copy me! uh uh uh uh!!!
but i cant, i cant do that, it hurts and it's shoving down and OUTTTTT. my whole self is being shoved down against the barrier of the thin pink lips of my tiny hole and i cant stop and i just have to-
UUUUUUUHHHHNNNNNNNNNnnn...!!! oh, oh, o-OW!! STOP-OW STOP!!!! NO I CAN- NNNNHHHHHNNNGGGGGUUUUUUUUUHHHH!!!!!
it's the worst, most unnatural, urgent instinct. the most unbearable, stretching, burning, aching agony i've ever felt in my fucking life, it's coming. please, it's coming, it's COMING.
i really hope you're recording so i can cum watching this later.
Raven had never been afraid of much. At thirty-four, she had survived a decade of underground fighting, a bar fight that left her with a scar splitting her left eyebrow, and the collective judgment of a world that had never known what to do with a six-foot-three, tattooed, pierced butch woman who took up space like she owned it. She had walked into punk houses filled with skinheads, had her ribs broken by a woman twice her size in a Muay Thai ring, had stared down her own reflection after shaving her head and liked what she saw. But walking into Sacred Bloom Prenatal Yoga for the first time had taken more courage than all of it.
Her wife, Lena, had been asking for weeks. “Just try it,” Lena had said, her small hands resting on the growing curve of Raven’s belly. “You need to be around other pregnant people. You’re going to be a mom, babe. You can’t just hole up in the garage with your punching bag and your death metal.”
So Raven went. She went in her baggiest gym shorts, a faded gray hoodie with the sleeves cut off, and a black tank top that had a hole under one arm. Her arms were sleeves of blackwork—thorns, skulls, a dagger wrapped in roses, the names of bands that had broken up before most of the women in this class were born. Her ears were stacked with silver rings, a small hoop in her nostril, a curved barbell through her eyebrow. Her armpits were dark with thick hair she had never once considered shaving. She was a collection of sharp angles and ink, and she felt like a monster in a room full of fairies.
The other women were soft. They wore matching pastel leggings and draped cardigans, their hair in loose braids, their voices gentle. They moved through the poses like water, while Raven’s body felt like a bag of hammers. She grunted through cat-cow, swore under her breath during warrior II, and shot death glares at anyone who looked at her too long. The instructor, a wisp of a woman named Sage, smiled at her every week with such genuine warmth that Raven wanted to crawl out of her own skin. “Welcome, mama,” Sage would say, and Raven would nod once, jaw tight, and take her place at the back of the room where she could lean against the wall and pretend she was somewhere else.
She was thirty-four weeks pregnant, thirty-four years old, and she had spent her entire life being told she was too much. Too loud, too big, too angry, too queer. Now she was about to become a mother, and she was supposed to become soft, to become gentle, to fit into this world of lullabies and baby showers and women who probably flinched when she walked into a room. She didn’t know how.
The class had been going for nearly an hour when Raven first noticed that something was wrong. Or rather, something was different. The studio was warm—it was always warm, some bullshit about “maintaining the uterine environment”—but today the heat felt suffocating, a physical weight pressing down on her chest. She was sweating, her tank top darkening under the arms, her forehead slick, her hands leaving damp prints on her mat. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps, far harder than it should have been during a gentle prenatal flow, and there was a low, grinding ache in her lower back that she had been trying to ignore for the last hour.
“Fucking air conditioning,” she muttered, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. The woman next to her, a tiny brunette with a belly like a basketball, shot her a concerned look. Raven forced what she hoped was a reassuring smile, though it probably looked more like a grimace.
They moved into a supported child’s pose, and Raven folded herself over her knees, her enormous belly pressing into her thighs. The ache in her back deepened, and she felt a wave of nausea roll through her, hot and sudden. She swallowed hard, breathing through her nose, telling herself it was just the heat, just the pressure of the baby, just her body being a traitorous piece of shit as usual.
Then the wave crested, and she felt it: a sharp, internal pop, followed by a gush of warm fluid that flooded her shorts and soaked the mat beneath her.
For a moment, she didn’t move. She knelt there, frozen, her brain refusing to process what had just happened. Then the woman next to her gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
“Oh my God. Her water broke.”
The room erupted. Women were on their feet, hands reaching, voices rising. Sage was there in an instant, her calm facade cracking just enough to show a flash of urgency beneath. “Raven, honey, look at me. Your water has broken. How far along are you?”
“Thirty-four weeks,” Raven managed, her voice strangled. “I’m not supposed to… it’s too early…”
“Babies come when they’re ready,” Sage said, her hand on Raven’s shoulder. “Right now, I need you to breathe. Just breathe. We’re going to take care of you.”
Raven tried to breathe, but another contraction was already building, this one far stronger than the aches she had been dismissing all morning. It wrapped around her lower back and squeezed, a vise of pressure that made her cry out, her hands slamming down on the mat. She was shaking, her entire body trembling with the force of it, and she could feel the eyes of every woman in the room on her.
“Someone call Lena,” Sage said, her voice sharp now. “And call 911. The rest of you, we need to make her comfortable. We’re not moving her until the paramedics arrive.”
“No,” Raven gasped, her head snapping up. “No, I don’t… I can’t have this baby here. I need to go to the hospital.”
“The paramedics are on their way,” Sage said. “But this baby isn’t waiting. I can see the contraction pattern. You’re in active labor. We need to get you ready.”
Another contraction hit, and Raven forgot about the hospital, forgot about Lena, forgot about everything except the raw, primal force tearing through her body. She screamed, a sound that tore from her throat without her permission, and her arms gave out, sending her collapsing onto her side on the soaked mat.
“We need to get her out of these wet clothes,” Sage said, her hands already reaching for the hem of Raven’s tank top. “She’s going to get cold, and she needs to be comfortable.”
“No,” Raven said again, but the word came out weak, desperate. She clutched at her tank top, her fingers wrapping around the fabric, but Sage was gentle and insistent, and the other women were gathering around, their hands warm, their voices soft.
“It’s okay, mama. Let us help you. You’re safe here.”
Raven felt the shirt being lifted, felt the cool air of the studio on her skin, and she wanted to cry. She was exposed, her large chest spilling free, her torpedo belly jutting out, the dark hair under her arms on full display. She tried to cover herself, but her arms were shaking too hard, and then the women were pulling at her shorts, tugging them down her thighs, and she was naked from the waist down, her thick pubic hair visible to everyone, and the shame was a hot, suffocating blanket.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, tears cutting through the sweat on her face. “I’m sorry, I’m not… I don’t…”
“Shh,” a woman said, her voice a low murmur. She was older, with silver hair and kind eyes, and she was kneeling beside Raven, a hand on her arm. “You have nothing to apologize for. You’re having a baby. Your baby is coming, and we are here to help you. Let us help you.”
Another contraction seized her, and Raven curled onto her side, her knees drawing up instinctively, her body assuming the side-lying position that felt most natural in that moment. The women moved with her, placing pillows from the prop wall under her head, between her knees, behind her back. Someone draped a light blanket over her chest, covering her breasts but leaving her belly and hips exposed. Someone else was holding her hand, a small, soft hand with perfectly manicured nails, and Raven clung to it like a lifeline.
“The paramedics are seven minutes out,” someone called.
“She’s not going to make it seven minutes,” Sage said, her voice low but urgent. She was positioned behind Raven now, her hands resting on Raven’s hip, feeling the contraction. “This baby is coming. I can see the head. I need you to listen to me, Raven. I need you to breathe with me. Can you do that?”
Raven nodded, her jaw clenched, her teeth grinding. She was shaking uncontrollably, her body slick with sweat, her hair plastered to her face. The next contraction built, and she felt the urge to push, an overwhelming, undeniable pressure that made her want to bear down with everything she had.
“Don’t push,” Sage said, her voice firm. “Not yet. Your body needs to open slowly. If you push too hard, too fast, you’ll tear. I need you to pant. Can you pant for me, Raven? Just little breaths. Like a dog.”
Raven tried. She opened her mouth and panted, short, sharp breaths that did nothing to relieve the pressure. The burning began, a searing ring of fire that made her sob, her hand crushing the fingers of the woman holding it.
“The head is coming,” Sage said. “It’s right there. I can see hair. But there’s something else. I think the baby’s hand is up by its face. That’s going to make this harder. You’re going to feel more stretching. I need you to stay calm. We’re going to do this together.”
A nuchal hand. Of course. Of course her baby, her stubborn, impossible baby, would come into the world with its hand up by its head, making an already brutal process even harder. Raven wanted to laugh, or scream, or both. Instead, she panted, her body trembling, her vision blurring with tears of pain and shame and something else she couldn’t name.
The contraction peaked, and she felt the baby’s head stretch her impossibly wide, the nuchal hand adding extra circumference, extra pressure, extra agony. She let out a high, keening whine, a sound she had never heard herself make before, and she felt her body begin to tear, a sharp, burning rip that made her gasp.
“That’s it,” Sage said. “You’re doing it. The head is almost through. Just a little more. Pant, Raven. Pant.”
She panted. The burning was a constant now, a ring of fire that seemed to consume her entire pelvis. She could feel the baby’s head, could feel the small hand pressed against her perineum, and she wanted to push, wanted to scream, wanted to die. But the women around her were holding her, their hands on her back, her shoulders, her legs, their voices a chorus of encouragement.
“You’re so strong.”
“Look at you. Look at what your body can do.”
“She’s almost here. She’s almost here.”
The contraction released, and Raven collapsed, her chest heaving, her body shaking. For a moment, there was peace, a blessed absence of pressure, and she gasped in air like a drowning woman.
“The head is crowning,” Sage said. “I need you to push on the next one. Just a small push. Just enough to get the head out. Can you do that?”
Raven nodded, her face wet with tears and sweat. She was naked, exposed, her hairy armpits and pubic bush on display, her large chest heaving, her torpedo belly contracting with each wave. She was a spectacle, a monster, everything she had always feared she was. But the women around her were not looking at her with disgust. They were looking at her with awe.
The next contraction built, and Raven pushed, a short, controlled push that sent fire through her pelvis. She felt the head emerge, felt the nuchal hand slip free alongside it, and then the pressure was gone, replaced by a sudden, shocking emptiness.
“The head is out,” Sage said, her voice bright with relief. “One more push, Raven. One more push for the shoulders.”
Raven pushed, a final, shuddering effort, and she felt the rest of the baby slide free, a warm, fluid rush that left her gasping. There was a moment of silence, and then a cry, thin and furious, a sound that cut through the haze of pain and shame and made everything else fall away.
Sage lifted the baby, a boy, red-faced and squalling, and placed him on Raven’s chest. He was enormous, his head big and round, his dark hair wet, his tiny fists waving. Raven looked at him, at this small, furious creature, and she began to cry in earnest.
“He’s perfect,” Sage said, her hand on Raven’s shoulder. “You did it. You did it, Raven.”
The women gathered around, their hands reaching out to touch the baby, to touch Raven, their voices a soft murmur of praise and wonder. The older woman with the silver hair was crying, her hand still holding Raven’s. The tiny brunette was grinning, her face wet with tears. Even the woman who had been on the phone with the paramedics was there, her phone forgotten, her eyes bright.
“He’s so beautiful.”
“Look at that head of hair.”
“You were amazing. Absolutely amazing.”
Raven looked down at her son, at the tiny face, the wrinkled forehead, the small mouth working silently. She looked at her own arms, the tattoos, the dark hair under her arms, the broad shoulders and strong hands. She had never felt more like a monster in her life, and yet, for the first time, surrounded by these women who had seen her naked and vulnerable and had not looked away, she felt something she had never felt before.
She belonged.
The paramedics arrived a few minutes later, their stretcher bumping through the door, but Raven waved them off. She was not going anywhere. She was right where she needed to be, her son warm against her chest, the women of Sacred Bloom gathered around her, their hands on her, their voices a lullaby of praise.
Lena burst through the door a moment after the paramedics, her face wild with fear, and stopped short at the sight of her wife, naked and sweating, holding a newborn in the middle of a circle of women. Her face crumpled, and she was across the room in an instant, her arms around Raven, her lips on her forehead.
“You did it,” Lena whispered. “You fucking did it.”
Raven laughed, a broken, tear-soaked sound, and leaned into her wife. “I did it,” she said. “I did it.”
She looked around the room, at the women who had stripped her clothes, who had held her hands, who had watched her scream and push and tear, who had seen every inch of her hairy, tattooed, imperfect body and had not flinched. They were smiling at her, these soft, gentle women in their pastel leggings, and for the first time, Raven did not feel like an intruder.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I’m sorry for… for being such a…”
“Don’t,” Sage said, cutting her off. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You brought a life into this world. You did it with strength and courage. You are a warrior, Raven. And you are one of us now.”
Raven closed her eyes, her son’s weight on her chest, her wife’s arms around her, the women’s voices a warm, steady hum. She was still shaking, still raw, still bleeding and torn and exhausted. But the shame was gone, burned away by the fire of her labor, replaced by something that felt almost like peace.
She opened her eyes and looked at her son, at the tiny face, the dark hair, the small hand that had made her entrance so much harder. “Welcome,” she whispered. “Welcome to the world, little warrior.”
And for the first time, she said the words without irony: “Welcome, mama.”
The women laughed, soft and warm, and the circle closed around them, holding them all in a moment that none of them would ever forget.
Jacob tossed his math textbook onto the bed, the thump muffled by the rumpled comforter. "Can't focus," he muttered, rubbing the ache low in his back. Across the cramped room, his brother austin shifted uncomfortably on his own bed, a worn paperback forgotten in his lap. Austin’s gaze drifted down to the impossible swell beneath his own faded band t-shirt, mirrored almost exactly by Jacob’s beneath his hoodie. They hadn’t talked about it much since that terrifying day at the free clinic, the whispered confirmation echoing louder than any shout. Nine months. Twins for Jacob, but triplets for Austin. Sharing a room felt like a cruel joke now, every creak of the floorboards outside their door a potential disaster.
Austin winced, pressing a hand discreetly against the side of his taut belly. Sharp little cramps had been flickering like faulty wiring since lunch, tightening low and insistent. He stole a glance at Jacob, hunched over his notebook now, jaw clenched. He’s hurting too, Austin thought, recognizing the rigid set of Jacob’s shoulders, the way he kept subtly adjusting his position. But admitting his own discomfort felt like cracking open a dam he wasn't ready to face. The silence between them thickened, heavy with unspoken aches and the shared dread of discovery. Downstairs, the muffled clatter of dishes signaled Mom cleaning up after dinner – blissfully unaware.
Footsteps padded softly down the hallway. Both boys froze, identical expressions of panicked stillness flashing across their faces. The door creaked open, revealing Mom silhouetted against the brighter hallway light. "Just checking in," she murmured, her voice soft with tired affection. Her gaze swept over them – Jacob pretending sudden intense interest in his math, Austin feigning sleepiness – lingering for a moment on the unusual bulk beneath their blankets. "Everything okay? You both look wiped." Her tone held gentle concern, nothing more.
"Yeah, Mom," Jacob mumbled quickly, keeping his eyes glued to the textbook. "Just homework. Long day." Austin managed a weak nod, pulling his comforter a little higher. "Uh-huh. Tired." Mom lingered another heartbeat, her brow furrowed slightly, before sighing. "Alright. Lights out soon, okay? Big day tomorrow." She pulled the door closed, plunging them back into semi-darkness punctuated only by Jacob's desk lamp. The click of the latch sounded unnaturally loud. They listened, barely breathing, as her footsteps retreated down the hall, followed by the distant click of her own bedroom door.
Austin let out a shaky breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The stillness amplified the low, persistent ache radiating from his lower back, wrapping around his sides like iron bands. "Jacob?" His voice was tight. "My back… it's killing me. Like, really bad." He pushed himself upright with a grunt, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. The movement sent a fresh wave of cramping pain through his abdomen, sharper this time. He hissed through clenched teeth. "Gonna try a bath. Maybe hot water'll help."
Jacob watched him shuffle towards the door, each step stiff and careful. The question burned on his tongue, fueled by his own deep, grinding discomfort. He shifted, trying to find a position where the pressure in his pelvis eased, but it only intensified. "Austin," he whispered urgently as his brother reached for the doorknob. "Are you in labor?" Even as he asked, a powerful contraction seized his own belly, a relentless tightening that stole his breath. He jammed his fist against his mouth, muffling a groan, his knuckles white.
Austin paused, leaning heavily against the doorframe. He turned his head slightly, his face pale and strained in the dim light. "I don't know, man," he breathed, the words barely audible. "Feels… different." Another sharp cramp visibly rippled across his abdomen. He winced, pressing his forehead against the cool wood. "Just… need the tub." He pushed the door open just enough to slip through, moving with the careful deliberation of someone navigating broken glass. The soft click of the latch echoed in the sudden silence.
Alone now, Jacob let out a ragged groan he'd been stifling, pressing both hands hard against the relentless pressure building low in his belly. Panic clawed its way up his throat. Both of us? Now? The thought was a cold fist squeezing his heart. He pictured Mom down the hall, oblivious, the sheer impossibility of hiding this. He tried to shift, to ease the grinding ache in his hips, but another wave surged, stronger this time, stealing his breath. He doubled over on the edge of the bed, forehead pressed to his knees, knuckles white against the mattress. The silence stretched, broken only by his own harsh breathing.
Then, a sharp, choked cry sliced through the thin bathroom door. Austin. It wasn't just discomfort anymore; it was raw pain. Jacob forced himself upright, every muscle protesting. The walk across the room felt like miles. Each step jarred his own contracting belly, sending fresh spikes of agony radiating down his thighs. He leaned heavily against the bathroom doorframe, dizzy and sweating. "Austin?" he rasped, his voice tight. "You okay?"
The bathroom air was thick with steam and panic. Austin was kneeling on the cold tiles beside the tub, gripping the porcelain edge, knuckles bone-white. His soaked sweatpants clung to his legs. A dark, spreading stain haloed his knees, the water pooling around him was unmistakable. His breath came in ragged gasps. "Not… not okay," he ground out, trembling violently. "That wasn't bathwater." His voice cracked. "Jacob—it broke. It just… broke." His eyes squeezed shut as another contraction ripped through him, doubling him over with a choked cry. The water soaking his clothes wasn't warm anymore—it was amniotic fluid, tinged pink. Reality slammed into Jacob like a physical blow. Both of them. Right now. The sheer impossibility of it tightened his own chest worse than the contraction building low in his pelvis.
Jacob stumbled forward, ignoring the fresh wave of agony in his own belly. He grabbed Austin's shoulder, hauling him awkwardly sideways onto the drier tiles, away from the spreading mess. "Deep breaths," Jacob ordered, his own voice tight with suppressed pain. "Try." He ripped towels from the rack, shoving them under Austin's hips, desperately trying to contain the fluid. Every movement sent fire lancing through his own lower back. He could feel the familiar, terrifying pressure intensifying, the deep, grinding ache shifting into sharp, rhythmic peaks. No. Not yet. Not both. He pressed a fist hard against his own contracting abdomen, teeth gritted.
Austin gasped, shaking uncontrollably, eyes wide with terror. "Here? Jacob, Mom—"
"Shut up," Jacob cut him off, sharper than intended. He forced his breathing to steady, locking the panic deep inside. He met Austin's terrified gaze, his own expression deliberately blank, masking the internal storm. "Okay, Austin," he said, his voice unnervingly calm, almost detached. "Looks like it's baby time. Where do you want to do this?" He gestured vaguely with a towel-stained hand – the filthy bathroom floor, the stained towels, the terrifying reality. The question was absurd, a desperate anchor thrown into chaos. His knuckles were white where he gripped his own thigh, hidden from Austin's view.
Austin shuddered, tears finally spilling over. "Not… not here," he choked out between ragged breaths. "The floor… it's cold." He tried to push himself up, arms trembling violently, failing instantly. The contraction ripped through him again, a visible wave tightening his whole frame. "Help me… please. Back to bed?" The plea was raw, desperate for the fragile illusion of safety their room represented. He looked impossibly young suddenly, pale and terrified against the stark tiles. Jacob's own belly tightened in sympathetic agony, a cruel reminder ticking beneath his skin.
Jacob hauled Austin upright, staggering under his brother's dead weight and the relentless pressure building inside himself. Every shuffling step back down the hallway was torture, Austin groaning low with each movement, Jacob biting back cries of his own. They collapsed onto Austin's rumpled bed in a tangle of limbs and damp clothes. Austin immediately curled onto his side, knees drawn up, face buried in the pillow. "Pressure," he gasped, muffled. "God, Jacob… so much pressure… like… like I'm gonna…" He couldn't finish, his body instinctively pushing against the unbearable sensation. His knuckles whitened on the pillowcase.
"Are you pushing???" Jacob rasped, panic slicing through his own haze of pain. He dropped to his knees beside the bed, ignoring the sharp protest from his own contracting muscles. He had to know. With trembling hands, he tugged at Austin's soaked sweatpants waistband. "Austin, lift your hips. Just… just lift!" Austin whimpered but obeyed, pushing himself up slightly. Jacob peeled the fabric down past his brother's hips. His breath caught. In the dim light, he saw it: the impossible, terrifying crown of dark hair, slick and glistening, pressing against stretched skin. "Oh god," Jacob breathed. "Austin, you are pushing. Right now." The reality slammed into him, cold and final. There was no stopping this.
Jacob scrambled back, urgency overriding his own agony. "Okay," he choked out, forcing calm he didn't feel. "On your back. Now!" He practically hauled Austin onto his back, shoving pillows under his hips. Austin cried out, legs instinctively spreading wide, knees falling apart. Jacob grabbed towels, shoving them frantically under Austin, his own belly tightening in a fierce, synchronous wave that stole his breath. He doubled over, gripping the bed frame, riding out the peak. "Don't… don't push yet!" Jacob gasped when he could speak again, sweat dripping into his eyes. "Not until… until I say!" He needed a plan, any plan. Distraction. Action. He ripped open the bedside drawer, spilling its contents – pens, loose change, crumpled papers – searching uselessly for anything clean, anything useful. His hands shook uncontrollably.
His fingers brushed cool, hard plastic tucked beneath a sketchbook. He knew instantly what it was – the cheap, discreet vibrator he'd bought months ago, hidden deep. Panic and a desperate, horrifying practicality collided. Pain relief? Distraction? Anything to slow Austin down, to buy seconds before Mom heard the screams. He snatched it up, fumbling with the power button. It buzzed weakly in his trembling hand. "Austin," Jacob rasped, voice raw. "Just… hold still." He didn't explain, couldn't. He leaned over his brother's straining body, past the terrifying bulge crowning between Austin's trembling thighs. With shaking fingers slick with sweat and amniotic fluid, he pressed the humming plastic tip against Austin's stretched, glistening perineum, right beside the emerging head. The vibration thrummed against taut skin.
Austin gasped, a choked sound caught between agony and startled shock. His eyes flew open, wide and confused. The low buzz seeped into the unbearable pressure, a strange counterpoint to the tearing burn. A low moan escaped him, deeper this time, less pure pain and more bewildered sensation—a confusing mix of intense stretching and unexpected, localized stimulation. His hips jerked involuntarily, pushing instinctively against the vibration, driving the baby's head forward another fraction. "J-Jacob…?" he whimpered, his voice thick with tears and utter confusion. "What…?" But another contraction surged, obliterating the question. His groan deepened, morphing into a guttural push, his body arching off the pillows, legs splaying wider. The dark crown of hair slid further into view, slick and undeniable.
The sudden, sharp pop beneath Jacob’s own sweatpants was startlingly loud in the tense room. A gush of warm fluid soaked instantly through the thin fabric, spreading across his thighs and pooling beneath him on Austin’s bedspread. The sensation was shocking, a sudden release of pressure followed immediately by a crushing wave of pure, focused agony deep in his pelvis. Jacob cried out, doubling over, the cheap vibrator clattering from his trembling hand onto the towels beneath Austin. The buzzing died instantly. His own body seized, muscles locking rigid, deep pull of smoke curling upward, and crushed it out on the floor with his heel. "Mine too," he gasped, the words raw. "Water… broke." Panic flared anew, sharp and bright. Two of them. Now. In their shared room. The impossible was unfolding, unstoppable.
Jacob stayed standing, swaying beside the bed, rocking his hips instinctively against the relentless pressure grinding low in his own belly. Each small, desperate rock sent fresh spikes of agony down his legs, but it was the only movement that offered even a sliver of relief from the unbearable urge to push. Below him, Austin screamed – a raw, tearing sound ripped from his core. His back arched violently off the mattress, tendons straining in his neck, legs splayed wide. His knuckles were bone-white where he gripped the twisted sheets. The terrifying crown of dark hair had surged forward with that agonized push, stretching impossibly taut skin. Now, slick and glistening under the dim desk lamp, the baby’s entire head emerged, face down, resting heavily against Austin’s trembling perineum. The tiny face was squashed against the glass. Austin panted in ragged, shallow gasps, eyes wide with terror and exhaustion. "Head… out," he choked, disbelieving, staring down at the impossible reality between his legs.
Jacob forced himself to move. He dropped heavily to his knees beside the bed, ignoring the sharp protest from his own contracting muscles. His vision swam, but he focused on Austin’s face, pale and slick with sweat. "Almost," Jacob breathed, his own voice tight. "Just… shoulders now." He needed Austin to push, to finish this before the next wave hit him. His gaze flickered down. Below the baby’s head, Austin’s clit was swollen, flushed a deep pink, straining against the stretched skin. It pulsed visibly with his frantic heartbeat. Without conscious thought, driven by pure instinct to distract, to soothe, to somehow help, Jacob reached out. His thumb, trembling, brushed lightly over the slick, heated bud.
Austin gasped, a sharp, startled sound that cut through his panting breaths. His hips jerked violently, not away, but into the touch. The sensation was a confusing jolt – intense stretching agony mixed with sudden, unexpected friction. His body instinctively arched, pushing harder against the unbearable pressure. A low, guttural groan tore from his throat as the baby’s shoulders finally slipped free in a rush of fluid and blood. The tiny body slid heavily onto the towels beneath him, slick and still. Jacob kept rubbing, small, desperate circles on Austin’s clit, anchoring him through the overwhelming relief and shock. Austin slumped back, trembling uncontrollably, staring blankly at the squirming infant between his legs.
Jacob’s own body answered Austin’s release with brutal force. A contraction seized him, deeper and more demanding than any before. He cried out, doubling over, forehead pressing against the mattress beside Austin’s hip. The urge to push was primal, unstoppable. He couldn’t kneel anymore. He scrambled frantically onto his own bed, collapsing onto his side facing Austin, knees drawn up instinctively. His sweatpants were soaked, clinging. "Austin," he choked, voice raw with terror and pain. "Look… look at yours. Is it…?"
Austin stared down, trembling hands hovering over the tiny, blood-smeared body lying between his thighs. The baby squirmed weakly, making a thin, mewling sound. He touched the slick shoulder, a sob catching in his throat. "It’s… breathing," he whispered, awe cutting through the panic. But as he lifted the infant slightly, another contraction slammed into him, fierce and sudden. He gasped, dropping the baby onto the towels. "Oh god, another one!" His hips jerked forward, pushing instinctively against the fresh agony. Jacob’s hand shot out again, fingers finding Austin’s swollen clit almost desperately, rubbing tight, frantic circles.
"Push!" Jacob choked out, his own body rigid as iron beside Austin’s bed. He squeezed his thighs together hard, fighting the overwhelming urge to bear down himself. Sweat dripped into his eyes. "Push now, Austin! Shoulders!" His thumb pressed harder against Austin’s clit, the stimulation sharp and insistent. Austin cried out—part pain, part shock—and obeyed. He arched, grinding his hips upward into Jacob’s touch while pushing down with everything he had. A wet, tearing sensation, then a slippery rush. The tiny body slid free onto the towels. Austin collapsed back, panting wildly, staring at the squirming newborn. Jacob’s own contraction peaked. He gasped, curling tighter, knees digging into his belly. "Again!" he rasped, fingers still moving on Austin. "One more baby.”
Austin’s eyes snapped to Jacob’s face. He saw the agony twisting Jacob’s features, the desperate rocking of his hips. He understood. "Jacob—" he started, but another wave hit him. He groaned, pushing weakly, the third baby’s head crowning fast. Jacob’s thumb circled faster, relentless. Austin gasped, hips bucking. The sensation—burning stretch combined with electric friction—was overwhelming. He pushed harder, desperate for release. The baby slid out with a gush. Triplets. Done. Austin slumped, trembling, staring at the three infants.
Jacob gasped, curling tighter. "Can’t… hold off," he choked, sweat soaking his hoodie. His knuckles whitened on the bedframe. "Gotta push." The words were ragged, final. He rolled onto his back, knees splayed wide, a low groan tearing from his throat. His hands scrabbled at his sweatpants waistband, yanking them down past his hips. The air hit his swollen skin—a sharp, vulnerable exposure.
Austin dragged himself off his own bed, trembling legs carrying him the few steps to Jacob’s side. He sank onto the mattress, ignoring the slick mess clinging to his thighs. His gaze fixed on Jacob’s heaving chest, the dark, swollen nipples straining against the thin fabric of his tank top. Without hesitation, Austin leaned down and took one into his mouth, sucking hard. The sharp pull drew a ragged gasp from Jacob—pain and relief tangled into one. Austin’s tongue swirled, the suction deep and rhythmic, grounding Jacob through the agony coiling low in his belly.
Jacob arched off the bed, a guttural cry tearing loose as Austin’s mouth worked. The sensation was electric, a counterpoint to the crushing pressure below. He felt the baby’s head crown, burning and immense. "Push!" Austin mumbled against his skin, milk leaking onto his chin. Jacob obeyed, bearing down with everything he had, his body straining. Austin sucked harder, fingers digging into Jacob’s hips, anchoring him. The baby’s head emerged, slick and dark-haired, stretching Jacob impossibly wide.
Jacob gasped, trembling violently. "Too tight… hurts!" he choked out, eyes squeezed shut against the tearing burn. Austin pulled his mouth away with a wet pop, leaving Jacob’s nipple glistening. Without hesitation, Austin slid his fingers down Jacob’s belly, slick with sweat and amniotic fluid, and pressed against Jacob’s entrance. "Easy," Austin murmured, voice thick with exhaustion and urgency. He pushed one finger slowly inside Jacob’s stretched opening, feeling the fierce resistance. Jacob whimpered, hips jerking, but Austin held him steady, working the finger deeper, stretching the taut ring of muscle with deliberate, careful pressure.
Another contraction seized Jacob, deeper and more demanding than before. He cried out, arching off the bed, pushing instinctively. Austin pressed harder, adding a second finger alongside the baby’s crowning head. The stretch was agonizing, overwhelming, but beneath the pain, a sharp, unexpected spark ignited deep in Jacob’s belly. Austin’s fingers rubbed against his inner walls, slick and insistent. Jacob gasped, a shudder running through him. The pain blurred, mingling with a sudden, shocking wave of pleasure—a forbidden, electric current that surged through his exhaustion and fear. His hips rocked forward, seeking more friction against Austin’s hand.
He screamed—a raw, ragged sound torn from his throat—as the baby’s head slid fully free to the neck. The sensation was unbearable: burning stretch, crushing pressure, and that relentless, building pleasure coiling tighter with each desperate push. Austin’s fingers worked deeper, stretching him, rubbing firmly against his prostate. The spark exploded. Jacob’s body locked rigid, back arched impossibly high off the mattress. A massive, convulsive orgasm ripped through him, utterly uncontrollable. His muscles clenched violently around Austin’s fingers and the baby’s shoulders. In that shuddering release, the tiny body slid free in a slick, effortless rush onto the towels beneath him. Jacob collapsed, trembling violently, gasping for air, the aftershocks still pulsing through him.
Jacob knew the other baby was right behind. He rolled onto his hands and knees, rocking back and forth with the pains. Each sway sent fresh agony radiating down his spine, sharpening the pressure low in his belly. He braced his elbows against the mattress, forehead pressed to the damp sheets, panting. The next contraction built swiftly—a deep, grinding force demanding release. He pushed instinctively, groaning low in his throat. Between his thighs, he felt the terrifying bulge begin to crown again, slick and hot against his trembling skin.
Austin watched him, exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Jacob’s broad shoulders strained under his soaked hoodie, the muscles in his back flexing with each desperate push. Sweat darkened the fabric between his shoulder blades. The curve of Jacob’s spine, the raw power in his movements—it was strangely captivating. Without thinking, Austin crawled closer. He placed his palms flat against Jacob’s lower back, pressing firmly into the knotted muscles. "That’s it," Austin murmured, his voice rough but unexpectedly soft. He rubbed slow, deep circles, feeling Jacob shudder beneath his touch. "Push hard, Jake. Just like that." His fingers slid lower, kneading the base of Jacob’s spine where the pain was fiercest. Jacob arched into the pressure, a ragged gasp escaping him. The encouragement felt intimate, grounding.
Jacob rocked forward onto his hands, hips lifting higher. The burning intensified, sharp and undeniable. "Crowning!" he gasped, the word thick with pain and urgency. "Austin—it’s crowning again! Need to push… now!" His knuckles whitened on the sheets, head dropping low. The pressure was volcanic, unstoppable. He braced himself, sucking in a shuddering breath. Austin’s hands slid down, settling firmly on Jacob’s hips, anchoring him. "Do it," Austin urged, leaning close. His breath was warm against Jacob’s sweat-slicked neck. "Push!"
Jacob bore down with everything he had. A raw cry tore from his throat as the baby’s head stretched him impossibly wide. The burning intensified, a white-hot ring of fire. "Too much!" he gasped, trembling violently. "Austin—burns! Can’t… can’t do it!" Panic edged his voice. He tried to pull back, hips instinctively retreating from the agony. Austin pressed harder against Jacob’s hips, holding him firmly in place. "Yes, you can," Austin insisted, his voice low and steady despite his own exhaustion. "Deep breath, Jake. Push through it." One hand slid around Jacob’s heaving belly, fingers splaying wide over the taut skin. He rubbed slow, firm circles low down, just above Jacob’s pubic bone, feeling the rigid muscles beneath. "Almost there," Austin murmured. "Just like last time. Push!"
Jacob screamed—a ragged, desperate sound—as he obeyed. He shoved forward, grinding his hips down against the unbearable pressure. The baby’s head surged free all at once, a sudden, slick release that left Jacob panting, forehead pressed to the mattress. Relief flooded him for a heartbeat. Then Austin’s hands shifted. One palm pressed firmly against the small of Jacob’s back, urging him to arch higher. The other slid lower, fingers tracing the slick curve of the baby’s neck where it rested against Jacob’s perineum. "Shoulders next," Austin said, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Slow push now, Jake. Easy." Jacob nodded weakly, gulping air. He braced, pushing gently. He felt the baby twist, the broad shoulders catching for a terrifying second. Austin’s fingers pressed lightly beside the emerging head, guiding, easing the path. Jacob whimpered, pushing harder. The shoulders slipped free in a rush, followed instantly by the slippery little body tumbling onto the towels beneath him. Jacob collapsed forward, shaking, gasping. "Done?" he choked out, dazed.
Austin stared at the tiny, squirming infant, then at Jacob’s exhausted form. "Almost," he whispered. His gaze flicked to the three newborns on his own bed, mewling softly. Then he looked back at Jacob, trembling on his hands and knees. "Jacob," Austin breathed, voice thick with exhaustion and sudden, overwhelming fear. "We… we have to tell Mom." The words hung heavy in the air, thick with dread and the impossible weight of their secret finally breaking. "She’ll know what to do… with… with all of them." He gestured weakly towards the five infants scattered between their beds.
A soft, weary sigh came from the doorway. Both boys froze, terror locking their limbs. Their mother leaned against the doorframe, her silhouette illuminated by the hallway light. Her eyes, wide with shock but strangely calm, moved slowly from Austin’s bed strewn with towels and newborns, to Jacob’s trembling form, and the slick infant lying beneath him. One hand rested protectively on the pronounced swell of her own belly beneath her thin nightgown. "Oh, boys," she murmured, her voice trembling slightly but impossibly gentle. "I already know." She rubbed slow, soothing circles over her taut abdomen, a gesture mirrored unconsciously by her sons moments before. "I’ve known for months."
Surprise Big Breech: The Home Birth of Lila (tmpreg)
*WARNING: Fetish content*
Featuring:
Tmpreg
Told in a video format
Hard and intense birth
Surprise breech of big baby
See this fic on AO3 with very explicit art! (registered users only) Kudos and comments help me write more
Cast:
Elias – birthing parent, 34. Is almost 42 weeks pregnant and overdue, and has been in labour for 7 hours.
Jean – Elias’s husband, 33.
Sammy – Elias and Jean’s 6 year old son.
Maura – Jean’s mom, attending the birth and taking care of their son.
Celie – Elias’s older sister, 37.
Rhea – Elias’s younger sister, 30. Recording the video.
Amrita – The midwife, 42.
[A Google Drive video entitled: “The Surprise Breech Home Birth of Lila Part 2: Pushing & Delivery”]
Video opens with a shot of an open-concept living room, with a thin and lean man inside a blue birth pool. His husband is sitting on a stool next to the pool, leaning close to his labouring partner’s head, and they’re holding hands on the edge of the pool. The labouring man is breathing slowly and heavily with his eyes closed, rocking forward and back slowly in the pool. His other hand is in the water, unseen. He can only be seen up to his chest, but it’s clear that he’s naked.
He begins to push spontaneously, his face calm and his mouth slack, but the sound that comes out of him is so strained and tight, it would be embarrassing if he wasn’t this far beyond caring.
“Hhu–OOOOUUUUuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…..”
He keeps it going, slowly rocking back and forth as he pushes hard but calmly. His mouth begins to curl as if he’s smiling, but it’s really all pressure and intensity. The camera actually picks up the sweat pebbling on his forehead in the low light.
He bursts it out, but the push doesn’t end so much as it comes in another intense wave. “MNGOUHhhhhIfeelyoubabygirlll………….--OOUHhhhhhh………”
“Breathe, babe,” his husband, Jean, reminds him quietly, as Elias’s straining sound gets very high and tight and his hand that grips Jean’s begins to shake. It almost looks like he’s puking, he’s involuntarily pushing and straining so deeply. He breaks free of it somehow, with a constipated face and lips a very dark shade of red that strain out the end of that push. His face falls instantly as he pants hard, eyes still closed calmly.
New shot from a distance with Elias in the birth pool. He’s naked, but only seen from the chest up. Sometimes a peak of his breasts appear over the edge of the pool. He’s holding onto the plastic handles on the rim, his arms spread pretty wide, small muscles and veins popping out of his skin. He’s in the process of really forcing a push as, according to him, he can’t feel the baby moving down on her own. He has to give it real gusto every time now, trying to hold each push for as long as he can. From the viewer’s angle, it looks like it feels very intense. Jean is sitting on a stool next to the pool, reaching to rub Elias’s back and brush the loose, sweaty hair off his neck and shoulders. His skin is all pink, shining with sweat already.
The camera angle settles as Elias draws in a very long breath, eyes closed, then his shoulders lower as he keeps hold of the handles, and his expression crumples embarrassingly as he audibly strains extremely hard, like he’s pooping.
Jean quietly encourages him to breathe as Elias holds the push down hard enough that his head trembles and his face goes completely red. Finally, he bursts the rest out, but only for a split second before he’s straining down hard again, baring his pained expression forward.
Elias keeps those big strainy pushes going, one after the other, getting very red and veiny and sweaty. Near the side of the screen, sitting on the couch, his older sister Celie encourages: “Biiiiig push like you’re having a bowel movement, Papa.”
“Or like you’re having a baby,” says their younger sister, Rhea, behind the camera. In the corner of the screen, Celie turns to her with a quiet laugh just as Elias, red-faced and trembling, expression calm, bursts out the push.
Cuts to a new shot of Elias from slightly above as he can be seen squatting in the middle of the pool, grabbing the handles fiercely, his hands white. He’s at the end of a very hard forced push, looking down towards his big belly as he grunts it out loud.
Amrita, his midwife and the only one attending, encourages him, “It does, push past it Papa, past it.”
Holding his shoulder, Jean talks fiercely to him. “You’re doing it Elli, you have the strength to push her out. You’re so close.”
Hearing his husband’s words and his love, Elias bears down frighteningly hard and strong, holding it for a long time, dipping into a deeper and deeper squat. His shoulders are slouched down, his face upright. By the end of it, his face, neck, and chest are a deep shade of red, and his teeth are bared in a thin grin of pain that he probably has no idea he’s making. Jean pets his stringy black hair back from his forehead just as he bursts his held air out loudly through his teeth and immediately bears down hard again, head trembling.
Rhea zooms in very close on Elias’s trembling red face and his intense expression as he bursts out that push too. “DEHH!” Then he pants hard, his arm moving beneath the water, and looks exhausted already, eyes still closed. “She’s… I can’t move her. Fuck. I’m pushing as hard as I can…”
“Do you want to try getting out of the pool?” Amrita asks, but Elias is shaking his head.
“Gonna… keep squatting for a bit. I like this position.”
Amrita nods. “Okay. When you push, try to hold it until you absolutely can’t anymore. This is where it counts, Papa. I know you’re working hard.”
Elias nods, still panting, and rests his head on the edge of the pool. Jean kisses his temple and cheek and reaches for his water bottle.
The next shot is taken from a standing position and focusing on Elias in the pool from behind, blurry at first as Rhea zooms in. Elias’s pale and sweaty bare shoulders and back can be seen in the low light as he grabs the handles on the edges of the pool, arms spread out, and his entire body flows doowwwnn. He grunts with it, hard and concentrated, rumbling deep in his chest. Jean places a hand on his back to support him, his face tight.
Elias pushes his baby down ssoooo hard and strong, determined to move her on this contraction. He dips down so deep into it that his wide open knees, still in a squat, poke out of the water. Every back-to-back push is accompanied by a hard grunt or growl which get higher pitched and more desperate each time.
The shot abruptly cuts away as Amrita is leaning in and telling Elias to keep it steady while reaching below into the pool.
The next shot is still taken from behind, zooming in on Elias’s back and the back of his head as he’s in the middle of working on another hard push. He’s trembling, his skin turning red. His legs can be seen under the dark water still in a wide squat, and he has one hand in the water in front of him, likely feeling inside for the baby, and his other hand is gripping Jean’s bicep fiercely. Jean’s face can be seen, focused intensely on Elias’s face.
“............................DJUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHAAAOOOW!!!” He gasps on reflex, loud and in pain, and Jean grabs his shoulder as he bravely pushes down again. “C’monbabyget–aaooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuttttttt…………!!”
The recording jumps ahead a few contractions, but not many. Elias’s only been pushing for about 20 to 30 minutes at this point. This shot is taken from the same angle, but Elias has turned around in the pool and faces the camera now. Jean is sitting on the stool right up against the edge of the pool, and Elias is leaning back against him. His arms are spread out over the rim of the pool, hands in trembling fists, and Jean is leaning over his shoulder, reaching over him as he holds both of Elias’s knees out extremely wide. His legs are not just wide, but high up, knees over the surface of the water and close to his breasts.
Elias looks incredible and fearsome as he pushes, really giving it everything now. His big belly is hard and high, his bare breasts draped over it heavily. Every time Elias lets go of a push, his belly bounces outwards and goes slack, but only for the span of a quick gasp before he’s launching down hard and vicious again. His face in this shot is a hard grimace, red and sweaty with his dark hair messily falling into his eyes. The reason for that becomes apparent when he, still pushing silently and hard, drops his head backwards onto Jean’s shoulder and his hair falls over his forehead.
“That’s it babe, you’re moving her, I promise,” Jean whispers, looking down into the water, as Elias’s throat starts to look pretty scary, bulging with veins and effort.
“Quick breath and push,” Amrita coaches as Elias follows along at the same time. “Goooood, Elias, well done, keep holding, keep holding, even more on the end now.”
Celie’s voice can be heard in the background, when Elias’s head and legs begin to tremble and he starts to make an involuntary strainy grunt: “Oh you’re amazing, Elli.”
He growls that one out hard and deep, and his belly relaxes and comes outwards. Then he gasps in long, bringing his red head upright again, and the camera captures his extremely hard grimace, bared teeth and squeezed shut eyes, as Jean pulls his legs upwards and open and he pushes again, hard. He holds it for a few seconds as they all encourage him, his arms and fists trembling on the edges of the pool, and he flops his head backwards again, still pushing wickedly hard, his neck bulging with veins and tendons as sweat rolls down his throat and chest.
A couple shots go by of Elias pushing like this, Jean pulling on his legs, and sometimes as Elias’s head is backwards, he puts a hand on Jean’s shoulder, so gently despite how hard he’s working and how much pain he’s in. Amrita has her hand in the water in these shots, either to take the baby’s heart tones or to feel her coming down. Everyone is encouraging Elias to keep going, keep holding down, that he can do this.
Between shots, they discover meconium in the water and realize the baby is breech. This is unexpected, but it explains why it’s been so hard for Elias to move her down.
He works hard from there on out, seen in the next shot where he’s now out of the pool and pushing with real gravitas.
Elias is squatting on the floor, legs wiiide open, holding the birth stool behind him.
Very up-close shot of Elias’s crotch and belly from a little above as he pants hard, big belly bouncing out. His skin is shining under the flashlight, either still wet from the pool or from sweat. As the camera adjusts, his big belly tenses inwards suddenly as he hitches down with a stopped breath just as Amrita mutters, “Push.”
Elias’s opening begins to bulge a tiny bit, but the baby can’t be seen yet. His legs tremble hard as he leans down into the floor harder, a very quiet and tight grunt forming in his throat.
Celie’s voice can be heard. “Oh so hard, Elias.”
Amrita’s gloved hand can be seen reaching in to stretch Elias with a finger just as his grunt gets harder and he bursts it out breathily through his nose. As if he was pushing too, Jean can be heard bursting his air out. “Dhoh, babe.”
Elias gasps in right away after that push, quick and loud, then “Huh–” hitches down hard again, belly hard, legs trembling wide open as Amrita stretches him.
As Elias strains and grunts quietly in his throat, Amrita squirts more lube on her fingers and stretches him again, coaching: “Yes there, harder harder harder. Hold it looong and strong Elias. Keep her coming, longer longer…”
Just as Elias bursts it out through his teeth, strained and airy and loud, with some spit flying in the flashlight’s light, Celie says offscreen: “Ohh what a big push.” And Jean says “Good, love” as Elias’s belly hitches hard with another push right away.
Everyone is quiet for this push, as Elias gives it everything in his power. His legs are shaking hard now, sweat gathering in the creases of his thighs, still wide open. Amrita trails her fingers left and right, pulling and stretching his tissue, and he opens and bulges much more this time. Celie and Rhea can be heard gasping happily as Elias begins to lean back, body trembling, a tight groan getting louder in his throat before the pressure explodes from his teeth strained and breathless.
“That was the push, Elias, you moved her with that one,” Amrita says as Elias pants hard and the bulge retreats.
The camera pans up to Elias’s face, rosy and sweaty as he pants while Jean brushes his hair back from his forehead and the others praise his effort.
It cuts immediately to a shot in the middle of another push. This one looks hard, and Elias holds it for a very long time. He’s sitting on the birth stool now but the shot is from the chest-up. Jean is sitting on his stool behind Elias, his head against Elias’s which is beet red and tipped back on Jean’s shoulder. Elias’s eyes are squeezed shut, his cheeks puffed out hugely and his neck massive and veiny, their hands laced together against Elias’s bare chest, pressing his breasts together. Jean is looking down, whispering into his husband’s straining shoulder: “Pushpushpushpushpushpushpush…”
The camera pans down to Elias’s opening and Amrita’s fingers holding him open and down, the bulge closer now, just as Elias bursts it out desperately and airily, a little crack in his voice. The bulge retreats quickly as Elias gasps loudly and immediately his belly tenses down and in with another powerful, shaking push.
Amrita says, “Chin down Papa, look at your baby coming.” and the camera pans back up to Elias’s hard grimace just as he tucks his chin, eyes squinting open as he brings his and Jean’s locked hands up higher, trembling hard with sweaty effort. He and Jean are looking in a mirror held by Celie near the floor.
There’s a quick shot of their six year old son Sammy sitting on Jean’s mother’s lap, looking shy and quiet. In the background, Elias’s hard work can be heard from the next room as he gutturally grunts while pushing. The voices of the others praising his effort can be heard.
Next shot starts with a nearly full-body of Elias, pretty close. It’s intense. He’s still on the stool, legs wide open, leaning forward over his big belly this time. His face is jutted out forward, eyes squeezed shut, grimacing and baring his teeth hard. His hands are on his knees, keeping them wide open, his elbows outwards and his shoulders lowered, all his muscles and veins popping. Jean is still sitting behind him, but supporting him this time by holding his breasts, squished and full in his hands.
“C’mon baby girl, your Papa’s working real hard,” Celie says as Jean encourages his husband. “Oh yeah babe, so strong.”
Elias pushes and pushes and pushes on this one, really locking in and giving it desperate effort. Every push is massive and very long, Elias tipping forward and shaking, muscular and red and vascular, about to explode from the pressure of how hard he’s trying to birth his baby. Every release is a high-pitched breath through his teeth, exhausted and desperate, but he gasps in loudly immediately and launches down again and again.
It’s so hard and intense but beautiful as Elias sucks in air and his entire body pushes as Jean squeezes and their daughter descends, slowly and agonizingly spreading Elias open between Amrita’s fingers. Elias begins to grunt very tight and hard, and the camera zooms in on his crotch as finally there can be seen a little smooth pink bump and the others cheer.
Cuts right away to a different push, right on the tail end. The baby’s bottom is visible now, smooth and shiny under the flashlight. It’s just Elias’s bulging crotch as he releases hard and breathless through his lips, and the baby’s bottom sucks back in and immediately juts out as the bottom of Elias’s belly, dripping with sweat, sucks in and he groans high-pitched and strangly in his throat. She comes, comes, comes, and Amrita repositions her hands so one finger is hooked and stretching Elias and the other is supporting his perineum.
Right as Jean emphasizes, voice strained and slow, “Good work, baby,” Elias bursts it out again, high-pitched and grunty.
He immediately pushes hard again, the hardest and longest one this time, for about 17 seconds. His entire body is trembling as the camera zooms in on the baby’s bottom stretching him open just a bit, some meconium oozing out, as everyone cheers him on:
“Good Elias, hard and strong just like that.”
“Oh she’s there, Elias. Wow!”
“D’oh’m so proud of you babe, she’s coming out.”
Elias makes a sound like a door creaking as Amrita stretches him a little more and the baby slides out more than she ever has, just visible, as Elias can’t hold it anymore.
“.........BYEEUUHHHIcan’tdoit!”
Right away, everyone encourages him, but Jean’s voice is the loudest. “You can, Elli! You can. I see her butt.” The camera pans up quickly in time to show Elias, head tipped back on Jean’s shoulder, tighten his lips and puff out his cheeks as he bends his legs up and holds his shins just under his knees, and hitches his shoulders down with another huge push, emboldened by his husband’s words.
As Elias pushes shakingly hard, fingers white where he’s gripping his shins, Jean speaks tightly and quietly into his cheek and shoulder, eyes on the mirror below, grimacing. “Push haaaaaaarrrrrdd baby you’ve got it she’s coming, push our daughter out, YES Elli I see her she’s coming, push her baby, there she is–”
The camera pans down quickly to show the baby’s little bottom again right as Elias releases with what can only be described as a growl.
“Oh you’re amazing Elli, breathe now, breathe,” Jean guides as Elias pants hard and loud, whispering “ow” and they all help him lower his legs.
Quick shot of Elias drinking some water and Jean getting comfortable on the floor next to the stool. Celie is wiping Elias’s face with a small cloth, moving strands of hair out of his eyes as he breathes hard.
Cuts to a blurry, distant shot of Elias in the middle of a push on the stool, jutting his head out on his huge, veiny neck, his expression extremely constipated, almost like he’s grinning. Jean is kneeling on the floor next to his left leg, rubbing up and down his back, where there’s now a bath towel draped over his shoulders. Gradually, Elias tips his head down, still holding the push as Jean whispers to him. The camera pans over to their son, playing with some toy dinosaurs on the edge of the pool, not paying attention to his parents. Elias can be heard bursting out the push exhaustedly, and their son looks over.
The camera pans back over to Elias and zooms in as his shoulders tense and lower with another push, hands on his wide open knees and elbows pinched inwards, same constipated grin on his face, as he slowly tips his head up. His hair is wet and greasy now, falling in knots and strings over his face, which Jean brushes back with his hand. “Right there Elli, you’re so brave. You’re so strong,” Jean is whispering, the camera barely able to pick it up.
Quick shot of Elias getting a break, breathing slowly. Amrita is using the doppler to get a reading of the baby’s heart. Jean’s mom, Maura, is holding their son on her hip, tipping him down so Elias can kiss his cheek and hug him. He whispers, “Papa’s okay.” And Jean’s mom whispers, “Tell Papa he’s strong.”
Another new shot. Elias is barely visible in the darkness, save for a harsh circle of yellow light below his belly from the torch, which the camera can’t see past Amrita’s head. The sweat on Elias’s big round belly is illuminated, and his expression can just barely be seen. He is all red naked sweaty skin, rocking slowly forward and back on the stool as he bears down deep. The camera picks up his grimace, the white of his teeth and the lines around his mouth on his shiny face, and his crunched shut eyes. He’s groaning tight in his throat, barely audible, pushing and rocking down with all his might. The chair squeaks on the floor with his hard, trembling effort, before he grunts it out hard and masculine. He immediately gasps in as Jean praises him, and his belly jerks as he bares his teeth again, legs wide open.
Celie can be heard whispering off-screen. “Gogogogo push that baby down, down.”
Elias: “KKH–KRKKH–.............. ………………..GHEEIH!” He pants hard.
Close to the camera but offscreen, their son can be heard whining. Behind the camera, Rhea and Maura comfort him and Rhea can be heard whispering to him, “Say, ‘push, Papa. Push!’ Your sister’s almost here.”
His little voice follows: “Push Papa,” as Elias tucks his chin with one more grunty push, then still holding it, raises his grinning grimace upward, neck bulging with tendons, before he slowly bursts his air out, exhausted and strained, through his teeth.
The video picks up the pace now, as Elias hasn’t really moved the baby much in the past 15 minutes. She keeps rocking back in, but now she’s close to rumping. They all encourage him like crazy. Maura has taken their son out of the room as things ramped up.
Rhea has focused the camera behind Amrita’s head, on Elias’s crotch again. Pretty much head-on this time, so the viewer can see everything as he pushes. The baby’s bottom comes down and he trembles hard, stretching his swollen labia and his bottom in the stool which creaks with his trembling power. The baby is pooping, squeezing out meconium like a toothpaste tube, and on some extremely hard, guttural pushes, a few of her toes can be seen. She’s not frank breech, but footling, it looks like. And she must be huge. They all encourage Elias as he holds down brutal and trembling, stretching painfully open.
“Big strong push Elias, biiiiig big big big push, get that baby out.”
“........gheeeeiiiiiiiirrrrrr……”
“She’s right there baby just a little more. Oh you’re amazing.”
“....rrrrUUNNGH!” *GASP*
“Big breath! Go, Papa, strongstrongstrong.”
The video cuts to maybe one contraction forward, zoomed out now so Elias can fully be seen. The circle of white light on his crotch perfectly illuminates just how close the baby is to rumping.
Elias just pushes like crazy, one on top of the other, harder than ever, hard enough to move a truck. His belly bounces with each one, clenching in and then jutting out dramatically, and his upper body trembles stiffly, sooo hard, a very constipated expression stuck to his face. With each push, he spreads his legs wider, sweaty arms gripping the back of the stool behind his thighs, veins jutting out of his arms and chest and throat like roots. The baby’s bottom and toes squeeze out, out, a tiny bit more each time, sucking far back in with every burst of air Elias releases.
Jean is stroking Elias’s thigh and he pants and shakes, wide open. “She’s here sweetheart, she’s com’n out.” Elias begins to push hard as Jean talks, tipping forward on the stool, making the plastic creak as he still grips the back of it, his face a grotesque red mask of pain and constipation and hard effort.
“C’monbaby that’s it. You’ve got it. Keep pushing, keep pushing. Oh honey.”
“....................DEUUHH…!” Baby’s bottom and foot tuck back in as Elias releases and pants hard, sweat dropping from his face in the light of the torch.
It goes on like that, hard, concentrated shoves into his bottom, looking like he’s about to explode from the pressure packed into his head and huge throat, skin breaking out in a sweat, naked body hard and trembling with constipated effort. He can’t stop, not when the baby’s colour looks pale and her heart tones are slow. And he knows this.
Voices encourage him offscreen. Breathless, Celie says, “C’mon Papa, big push. She’s almost out.”
Gritting his teeth like he’s grinning, eyebrows curled high, still panting, Elias scrambles to grip Jean’s hand and his belly contracts inwards as he puuuuuushes with a tight grunt, hand shaking hard. “EUHH–...........................c’monbabyc’monc’mongrrtoouuut…..”
“No talking Elias, just push. Hold the sound in and give it a big long one,” Amrita instructs.
Elias locks down, emboldened, and lets go of Jean’s hand with a high-pitched breath. More of the baby’s bum and foot are visible, one leg still bent up, her toes poking out of Elias’s opening. With each push he bulges and spreads open more, and it looks like the leg is going to pop right out, but she always sucks back.
The next shot is taken a few minutes later, as it’s capturing Elias from behind. The shot is in motion, as if Rhea grabbed the camera in a rush. Viewer can see Elias’s naked back in the darkness, curled over his belly and curved dramatically, every single muscle and rib and tendon visible with the flashlight reflecting off his sweat-drenched skin. He’s grunting hard and high, shaking so hard with his elbows bent and fists flexed in front of him, like an animal trying with all his might to push out this baby. His ass is dimpled and flexed on the plastic seat of the birth stool, trembling with effort as his anus flowers open from the immense pressure.
As he grunts hard, giving that same massive push, the camera shakily moves closer and Jean can be seen on the side of the frame with both hands around Elias’s wide open knee, eyes locked on the baby coming out which is hidden from view. “PUSH baby, oh yeah you’ve got it, come on my love push push push push.”
The next shot is also from behind, a little farther away, as they have Elias standing up now, the stool moved aside. He is just a tall, sweaty, ragged figure at the end of his rope, entire body shaking and humming with pain and exhaustion. Every push is summoned from the depths of his soul and shoved all the way down through the floor, and the camera clearly picks up how his entire bottom opens and drops down with the horrible pressure. He has one arm draped over Jean’s shoulders and the other over Celie’s, his legs spread wide as he stands and pants hard, ass shaking.
When he bears down, there’s no warning. The camera, with the torch below him, picks up the instant tightening of his back and buttocks, the immediate hard bend to his knees as he drops down lower, drops the baby down as his anus opens and his perineum bulges down. The little smooth bum can be seen dropping down, oozing a long string of meconium.
“Everything you’ve got,” Celie whispers, as Elias trembles hard.
He holds it so long that Jean, who appears to be pushing with him, bursts his air out first. “BHOH I’m so proud of you babe.”
“..............UUUHHRRNGH!” Elias finally bursts out, and his bottom bounces back in just a bit. He wastes no time, immediately bending down with another powerful push, soooooo hard that the baby’s foot descends over her bum and the leg finally pops out. Elias goes so hard into it, still holding it longer after that, that his hips are tilting to the side instinctually, bending down and shaking so hard that Jean and Celie have to quickly plant their feet and readjust to keep him upright. His head tips back as he can be heard groaning, barely, soooo tight and quiet and fierce, baby’s leg jiggling beneath him in the harsh light, and his distended tissue bounces back in, taking the baby with it, as he explodes out the pressure and his puffed out anus sucks back in. “....DU’HUUUGH..!!”
“Breeeeeathe baby, good work,” Jean whispers, but Elias is ready to go and not stop.
Head still tipped back on his shining shoulders, the camera picks up how he instantly tenses his hips, his back, as his bottom opens and drops waaay down hard, and as he trembles hard he widens his legs, lowering, and sticks his crotch outwards more, buttocks muscles tensing.
He’s really in it now, just pushing as hard as he can with little noise or words, save for tight groans and strains in his throat that almost sound like gags. He doesn’t sound like himself anymore. Hardly sounds human. He’s fully into it, his raw power captured amazingly on camera, birthing his baby girl out powerfully and hard for his family to see.
Now that she’s rumping and a leg is out, it’s go time. Amrita encourages Elias to keep pushing hard hard hard again again and again even if he’s not having a contraction. And he knows this. He’s more determined than ever to give birth to his daughter.
Amrita moves the stool aside to get behind him as he’s still standing, bending down and pushing with an awful grunty strainy sound tight in his throat. Rhea moves back a little bit with the camera but zooms in more as Amrita positions her hands out, not touching the baby, as she encourages Elias to keep working.
Baby’s bum and hips suck back in as he releases, and Amrita says, “Ok Papa big breath… and push!” And Elias does, opening and bending down, groaning quietly but pushing extreeeemely hard, and the baby slides out to her hips, one leg still up. He bursts it out loudly and she sucks back up just a little, her one leg jiggling limply.
“Breathe,” Amrita guides again but Elias is on top of it, gasping loudly, and as she says, “BIG push!” he groans down sooooooo hard, legs bending down more, wide open, all his muscles tensing, his perineum dropping way down and stretching insanely wide. Baby slides and squeezes out a little more and he hoooolds, but she mostly just stays out to that point. Elias bursts it out with a desperate and exhausted sound, his head tipped back on his shoulders, and he immediately gasps in and hitches loudly down again.
In this long shot, he pushes, pushes, and PUSHES, not giving up, and no one even knows if he has a contraction. But he can’t stop.
He bends and opens and trembles dizzingly hard, completely silent, as the baby squeezes dooowwwn a little more, turning so her back is to his front as it should be. On that one wickedly hard push, he gets her out to her other knee, her leg still pressed against her tummy. They all praise him and squeal as he bursts it out strained and the baby’s one leg kicks twice.
“Push honey, push,” Jean grits, looking down to see their girl, emotional.
Elias opens wide and bends down more, raising his head up, back and buttocks muscles trembling and flexing so hard under the harsh flashlight, and baby slides down down down, but not enough to release her other leg before Elias explodes his air out desperately and she sucks back up just a little, locked behind his tight tissue.
Behind the camera, Rhea says, “Oh she’s a chunky girl Elli, you’re doing amazing.”
“Don’t stop, Elias, you’ve gotta get her out,” Amrita encourages.
Jean is muttering to Elias, who is obviously in immense pain and crying, for him to breathe in and push with him. They do it together, Jean’s face tensing as he looks down at their baby coming, Elias straining and shaking and pushing and pooping a bit.
On that push, he brings the baby down to where she was at the push before, and her chunky solid body trembles with him. She is big and fat, taking up the entire space between his thighs, and it’s SO much hard work to push her past the tightness of his tissue. He’s already tearing.
“Hard baby, don’t stop,” Jean bursts out, then strains, “Puuushitpushitpushitpushitpuuuuuuuuusssshhhh….”
Elias makes a horrible, barely audible straining sound as he bends down and Jean and Celie struggle to keep him upright, bearing down with everything in his power. This push is massive, and he holds it for so long that the baby’s big hips slide out as he rips a little more, then her leg up to her ankle, still pressed up against her belly. She sucks in as he gasps, but he doesn’t waste a millisecond, hitching down loudly with another brutal, shaking push, and her leg pops out immediately. Everyone cheers and squeals as Elias keeps it going, straining so hard, head shaking, as he pushes her out to her tummy, cord now visible, and Amrita blows out air. “Phew, she is not tiny. Quick breath, Papa, then push again. You’re doing amazing.”
“DE’HUEEEGGHHHH!!” Elias bursts out crudely. “DOOOHHHmygodget’erout!”
They all loudly encourage Elias to just keep pushing, and he sounds like he’s sobbing, obviously afraid and so tired. But he needs no further instruction. He takes action, pulling his arms from over Celie and Jean’s shoulders to instead tuck his arms close and grab their wrists, and he bends his knees wide open and bends his bottom waayy back and waayy down, pushing much too hard to contain his tight, constipated grunt.
“That’s good Elias, hardhardhard,” Amrita encourages, hands still hovering around the baby.
Baby stays mostly in place, until Elias’s slick back expands with a gasp, and he bends his knees down and open and pushes back haaaard, the umbilical cord immediately sliding out and falling over the baby’s legs. “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiihhhhhhhhh……..” he strains horribly as his baby gives a few strong tummy crunches.
One, two, three more hard, strainy pushes like this gets the baby to her big chunky waist, then her ribs and her chest, showing cleavage where her arms should be upright. Amrita still doesn’t touch.
Jean has a hand on Elias’s back and the other Elias is still holding close in a vice grip. As Jean looks down at their daughter, he motivates his husband. “BIG push baby, BIG. She’s almost out, oh Elli you’re so close.”
Elias just follows his husband’s words and his body’s urge. “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiiiiihhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” right down into his bottom, pushing one of her elbows down. He gasps quickly like a wave, back expanding and all his muscles and bones jutting out of his pelvis and bottom as he gives an even harder and strainier push, holding it hard and strong until the baby’s whole arm slides out.
At some point, Maura turned on the big light. Rhea’s camera movements are a little shaky as Elias lets out a horrible strain and bends down until he’s nearly sitting in the air, Celie and Jean keeping him upright, as Amrita hooks her fingers in to pull down the baby’s other arm.
“Ok good job Elias, breathe real quick,” she says, as Elias shouts and gasps.
“Igottaget’er–AAAOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” Elias strains gutturally with a massive push, bending way down and back, as Amrita’s shaking hands try to reach in to find the baby’s chin. Elias holds it down hard until his voice sounds alien, then he just gasps and gasps, baby’s neck jumping back up a bit. She’s floppy now.
The next shot is chaos as Amrita instructs them all to get Elias in a lunge position on the floor. He’s confused and panicking and in pain, so he doesn’t understand until Jean gets his knee up. He’s already pushing and groaning gutturally hard, almost screaming, as the baby’s head is the last thing to stretch him.
This shot is intercut with some grainy and dark footage from Maura’s phone, who is standing in the doorway in front of the whole scene. She captures Elias in a lunge, hard, trembling grimace turning into a slack, red-faced, veiny, guttural scream. Jean is right next to his face, encouraging him. Celie is at his other side, looking from his bottom to his face.
Rhea captures this same shot from the back, Elias pushing and screaming with all of his might, and the camera can see the baby’s chin drop down just a bit as Amrita performs a gentle chest press, Elias’s perineum and anus bulging out massively. The second Elias releases, the head sucks right back in and his perineum and anus go inwards. Then he’s told to push as hard as he can, and this is it. He bulges out immediately, gigantic and open, as Amrita does another chest press and tells him to push hardhardhard while beckoning Jean over to catch, and Elias screams.
Voices can barely be heard over his guttural screaming: “One more push Elias give her one more!” “C’mon baby push hard, I’ve got her! OH! I’VE GOT HER!” as the shot changes to Maura’s phone, showing how Elias grits his teeth and gives it one more powerful push, grunting and straining like an animal, putting every last drop of his effort into the push that will get her born.
Red face, massive, veiny, bulging throat, chest, and bare breasts, knees wide open, one hand on the floor, one hand shaking in Celie’s… Jean scoots behind and exclaims as Elias’s entire body flushes red and shudders down, and as he screams his face goes calm but so red and strained and he shows his bottom teeth.
The shot quickly changes back to Rhea’s angle, Elias screaming raggedly and horribly, as Amrita guides Jean’s hands under hers and wiggles the baby’s huge, squeezed head side to side, Elias wide open and torn and bloody, and then POP!! The baby’s huge round head launches out with a spray of blood and she folds forward into her father’s hands SO fast, her little fists tucked up by her chest.
The shot changes quickly to Elias’s face for a replay of this same moment. His scream goes horribly loud and ragged, and he jumps forward, then his eyes shoot open as he gasps like he’s coming to life.
There’s tears of joy and shock as the shots keep switching, showing the baby on the floor in Jean’s hands, blood pouring over her. Amrita is stimulating her and she quickly begins to cry, and Jean sobs loudly and happily. They tell Elias to look down, and the shot shows his face as he’s gasping, totally in shock, his eyes sort of rolling back as Celie still grips his hand and his elbow, encouraging him to get both knees under him and look down at his baby.
He does eventually, and cries as he releases Celie’s hand and picks her up. Jean helps him bring her to his chest, and Elias rubs all the blood and birth juice all over her. She is BIG, chunky tummy, arms and legs, and big bruised cheeks. She’s got a full head of thick, dark hair.
There’s a bonus ending shot of Elias lying in bed under blankets, filming on his phone as Jean and Amrita weigh the baby. Jean looks at the scale and puffs out a laugh like he can’t believe it.
He looks at Elias’s smiling and curious face and, grinning, says, “You’re recording?”
“What is it, daddy?” Celie asks.
Slowly lowering his daughter to the bed, Jean makes sure everyone is listening before he declares, “Ten pounds ten. Ten-ten, even.”
The camera pans to Elias dropping his mouth open as everyone reacts with “oh my god”s and laughter.
“Ten pounds ten,” Amrita confirms, nodding.
Focusing on Elias, Rhea says behind the camera, “You are a rock star, Elias, that was haaard.”
Elias just laughs in shock, accepting his baby into his arms from his husband. The camera zooms in on her chunky little face, her huge cheeks, as Sammy can be heard squealing in the background and Jean says, “Yeahh, you gave your Papa a hard time, huh.”
The shot pans up to Elias’s face as he looks up at his husband and points. “I am never. Never. Doing that shit again.” Before he goes back to smiling down at his big baby girl, totally in love.
you didn't plan to give birth during one of your shifts at the glory hole, but this baby's definitely coming out right now
public birth, painful birth, blink-and-you'll-miss-it birth denial
words: 656
you don't mind working at a glory hole. the work is mostly easy and sometimes it's even enjoyable. except, one of your customers got you pregnant months ago, despite the fact that you're on birth control. you're not sure when and definitely don't know who, but it doesn't even matter because the customers can only see you from the waist down anyway.
you've been feeling braxton hicks all day, and they have to be braxton hicks because you'd know if you were really in labor, right? sure, you don't actually know when your due date is, but you're sure it hasn't come up yet.
the contractions keep getting worse, but you can ignore them. you have to go to work after all. you lie down and focus on the feeling of cock after cock slamming into you from the other side of the wall. if you focus hard enough, you can ignore the pain. it's really not that bad.
except, fuck, you need to push. you really need to push. you can't have been in labor this whole time? oh, but that's definitely a head starting to stretch you open.
you scream at the customer to take his cock out, the baby's coming, you have to push it out! "just give me like, two minutes, i'm close." he's close?? you're giving birth!
they're the longest two minutes of your life, but then he's out, and you're pushing hard. you hear guys calling to each other on the other side of the wall, inviting each other to come watch, cat-calling the glory hole slut who's pushing out a baby right now. you don't know how many guys there are watching you, but you don't have time to care.
the baby stretches you out more and more. you grunt and strain and push and push and push. you thought you could take it, you did, but this is torture. there's nothing worse than this.
except there is. you push and then abruptly have to stop when it starts to burn, a scream ripping its way out of you. "it's about to crown, keep going!" one of the guys on the other side of the wall. easy enough for him to say, he's not the one being split open.
as much as it hurts, as much as you want to stop, you can't. you bear down again, scream and push through the burning agony of your baby crowning. you push for as long as you can, you wouldn't be able to take it if the baby slipped back in now. finally, you can't push any more, and you fall back with a sob. your pussy agonizingly stretched around the crown of your baby's head.
you try to give yourself a moment to rest, but then..."come on, doing leave us hanging like that!" leave them hanging? can't they see how hard this is? regardless, you have to keep going. you groan and push and feel your baby moving slowly out.
a few more slow, agonizing pushes, and the pain slacks a little, "the head's out!", finally, your audience is offering helpful commentary. one more push should get the shoulders and body out. your attention finally catches on to a problem with your current position: you can't reach past the wall to catch it.
another contraction hits and you desperately scream at someone to catch your baby, then the shoulders force their way out in an flash of agony, then the rest of the body, and the pain dulls, replaced by a sudden loose emptiness.
a cheer sounds out from the crowd you've gathered. a moment after, one of the front-end employees pushes his way through the employee door to the closet where you're stationed and hands you a crying infant. your baby, safe and loud and healthy, as far as you can tell.
you make enough in tips that night to take a few weeks off to spend with your baby~
This is my finished story. First draft was posted a few days ago.
TW: mention of poop in the context of childbirth.
This is my original work. Characters and scenario are entirely fictional.
Please enjoy.
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BORN BETWEEN FLOORS
The lift opened and I waddled in, my pretty green dress flowing behind me. I was over 40 weeks pregnant and my midwife was going to give me a sweep, as technically I was overdue. Despite it being a chilly day in Septmeber, I had opted to wear a dress so I wouldn't have to waste any time getting undressed and then dressed again after. I had been having contractions but they were no worse than bad period pains and irregular in frequency. In fact I hadn't had any that morning despite having so many last night that I had started timing them on my pregnancy app.
Pressing the button for the fifth floor ("Antenatal/Maternity Services"), I sensed someone else walk in the lift a few paces behind me. The entincing aroma of an expensive, spice-fragranced aftershave reached my nose. I glanced up as I felt the lift lurch, noisily starting it's journey upwards. The other person, responsible for the gorgeous smelled that filled the air, was an attractive man. I guessed he must also want the same department as me as he did not press the button for the lift to stop at any other floor. The lanyard with the hospital logo confirmed this - he was Dr B. Williams, obstetrician. Dr Williams was over six foot tall, roughly forty years old, his bulky, strong shoulders almost bursting out of his suit jacket. With thick, dark hair, chocolate-coloured, sincere eyes and luscious, kissable lips I wondered how much eye candy he provided to his patients along with medical care. As he stood looking at his phone, he became aware of me and brought his face up from his phone. Looking at my bump, he smiled knowingly.
"You look ready to drop." He squinted at me, evidently trying to place my features. "You're not one of my patients are you?"
"No, I don't think so. I'm here for a sweep."
"Ah, okay. Well, I hope it goes well."
"Thanks."
I enjoyed a few seconds of letting my mind wander, constructing naughty fantasies involving this handsome doctor, before the ten foot by eight foot cube we were enclosed in juddered a sudden holt. As we waited, expecting the door to open, there was a high-pitched alarm sound and the panel with buttons lit up and started flashing.
"This isn't good." I patted my bump nervously. A cramp, my first of the day, chose that exact moment creep across my uterus. I steadied my breathing while I blowed gently, my hand resting on my belly.
"No, it isn't." Dr Williams glanced at me and then stood by the metal doors, pressing his ear to them. "I can't hear anything outside. I think we've stopped between floors."
I breathed and rocked my hips gently.
"Are you alright?" He looked at me, his expression concerned.
"Just a little pain. I've been having them for a few days now. They pick up and then ease off again. I'm fine. It's going now."
"These lifts automatically alert the engineers if there is a fault so they should be aware," he told me, turning back to the doors. 'But I might just phone the hospital switchboard and let them know what's going on." He pulled out his ohone and scrolled until he found the contact number. "Hello, is this switchboard? Hello, yes, this is Ben... Ben Williams, doctor from maternity... I'm just phoning to let you know one of the lifts has broken... I know because I'm in it... no, there is also a patient in here with me... who? Hang on... sorry, what is your name?" he asked me.
"Claire. Claire Emerson."
"Claire Emerson... no, EMerson... Yes, okay... She is pregnant. How many weeks pregnant are you, Claire?"
"Forty plus two."
"She says she is forty plus two weeks... no, it isn't ideal... Can you ring whoever fixes these lifts and explain the situation?... I'm sure none of their other lifts have a pregnant lady in so surely this should be priority... Yes... Okay, thanks... Goodbye." He ended the call. "They're going to get the engineers to come out as quickly as possible Claire, okay? We just need to hang fire. It's a good job I could get reception in this lift."
"Hopefully they won't be long. Mainly because my feet are killing me," I chuckled.
"I'll bet. I'll give them ten minutes to get on site and then I'll phone back again."
Another pain, less than two minute after the last ebbs of the first had left me. This one was slightly more painful than the previous. I breathed, in and out, in and out. I tried to not show it, but a tiny whimper escaped from my lips.
"Ooooh."
"Do you think you'd be more comforting sitting?" Dr Williams asked me.
"No, I don't think so. I'd never get up again. Honestly, they're just little cramps," I said trying to smile, playing down their intensity.
"There was just a couple of minutes between that one and the first one you had."
"I know but really, I'm coping. As long as we get out of here soon."
"Switchboard said it shouldn't be too long."
"I hope not." I swayed as the cramp tailed off.
"Did you bring your hospital bag with you?"
"It's in the car. I never go anywhere without it now. Why?"
"I think your midwife will be sending you directly to the labour ward."
"Not the way my body likes to troll me. I'm pretty sure I'll be two, three centimetres tops when she checks me and then she'll send me on my merry way."
"I'm pretty doubtful you'll need the sweep though." He eyed the huge lump of my belly, my dress hanging over it.
Annoyance prickled over me. He was a doctor, yes, but he was also a stranger. Who was he to tell me what my body needed or didn't need without having even set a finger on me? That said, if I was contracting, surely I was dilating so maybe he was right about me not needing the sweep. At that moment another contraction overcame me. I held onto the wall for support as I tried to breathe my way through it. There was no hiding it this time. The pain was all over my face, and this one was definitely more intense than a bad period cramp. I moaned quietly.
Taking one look at me, he pulled rank. "I'm ringing the emergency services." He took out his phone again, dialled and brought the phone to his year. "It's alright," he reassured me. "The fire service will get us out... Fire service, please... Hello, yes, my name is Ben Williams. I'm a doctor at Westmeade Hospital and I'm stuck in a lift with a lady who is in labour... She's having regular contractions... About two minutes apart... No, I can't see the baby... You won't need to talk me through it as I am medically trained... The issue is we are in a lift, so there is no emergency or resus equipment... Yes, if it gets to that point, I can deliver a baby just fine... Yes, they are... Yes... Okay... Thank you."
He ended the call and looked at me. Pressing my body to the wall, I was still struggling with the pain of my womb as it spasmed. I hadn't taken in a second of the call, lost in my own world, as pain thundered through me.
"They will be as quick as they can, they said. Are you sure you won't be better off sitting down? I can help you onto the the floor... Claire?"
"What? No, no. Standing is better. Woooo. Woooo," I breathed.
"Is there anything I can do right now to make you more comfortable?"
"Get me out of here," I pleaded, only half joking, grateful the contraction had started to ease.
"I really wish I could."
I leant backwards against the wall and, stroking my belly, tried to let my muscles relax. I had hoped I'd be on my way back home now, my cervix happily manipulated by my midwife's fingers, but with at least a few more hours to mentally prepare. It was challenging for me to acknowledge the fact that baby was having other ideas.
"Is this your first baby?" Dr Williams pulled me out of my stupor.
"Yeah, first."
"Does anyone know you're here?"
"Nah, baby's dad did a disappearing act as soon as he knew little one here was on the way-"
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"-and my family don't want to know me presently."
"Do you have any friends looking after you?"
"No one that I can really trust, no."
"And does your named midwife know about your situation?"
"She's aware, yeah... argh..." I grimaced as the familiar pain starting building again. This time I started feeling it in my nether regions as well as my abdomen. Pressure filled my pelvis and I could swear my bump dropped an inch right then. As I geared myself up to lean against the wall, sway and breathe my way through it, I felt a pop somewhere near the top of my vagina and gush of warm, wet fluid flood my knickers. It drenched my bare legs and splattered the floor beneath me. After the first gush, it came in spurts as pain continued to surge through me.
"Arrrghhh! Oh god, oh god!"
"I'd hazard a guess that that was your waters." Dr Williams had taken a step towards me, one hand on the wall, one on my upper arm, clearly wanting to fully immerse himself in the "Doctor" role but apprehensive about how I would respond to this.
"Claire, will you let me help you?" he asked tentatively.
"Y-yes... ARGHHHHH!" I screamed at the contraction peaked.
"Okay, let's just try and breathe through this pain and then I'm going to help you onto the floor. Just hold on to that wall." He took off his jacket and lay it down next to me. As my contraction eased off, I looked down at the floor.
"I wish I had something softer, but at least you won't be sat on that freezing floor."
"You don't have to do that. They'll be here soon, you said so yourself."
"Of course." His tone was reassuring but his expression was worried. "I still want you to be comfy though. Do you want to try sitting down? Before the next pain comes."
"Alright then. Thank you."
"It's okay". He supported me down into a semi sitting position, leaning against the metal lift wall. I collapsed down, plopping my bottom onto his jacket which was now wet with my amniotic fluid. He helped me take my shoes off, squatted down beside me and awkwardly patted my arm.
"Do you feel better now you're off your feet?" he asked, concerned.
"Yeah, having a bump this big" I gestured at my 40 week bump "is rubbish for my back". I looked at the metallic floor drenched in slightly cloudy fluid that had gushed out of me not two minutes before. "I don't know how long I've got. What did you say on the phone?"
"That I'm stuck in lift with someone in labour and even though I'm medically trained, we still require help. Pronto."
"And did they say how long they would be?"
"Just that they were going to be as quick as they can. Unfortunately this is an old lift in an old maternity unit and I'm pretty sure we're stuck between floors. So it might not be ten minute job."
"Dr Williams, I really don't want to do this in a lift."
"Ben, please. I'm not Doctor Williams until I clock in." He winked at me. "Listen, I don't want you to either but if it gets to it, I promise I'll do my best."
The familiar tightening, cramping sensation was creeping over me. Grateful I did not have to concentrate on staying on my feet, I took a deep breath in, exhaling through pursed lips as though I was blowing out a candle. I had tolerated the pain well up to now but the intensity of this contraction killed any will I had left to manage this with breathing exercises alone.
"Ooooooooh! Oooooh!" I wailed.
"Just breathe. In and out. Iiiiiin and out," he said in low, reassuring voice, rubbing my arm.
"This is worse, much worse! Oooooh!"
"It could be because your waters have gone."
"That's not helpful!" I panted.
"I'm sorry. Scream if you need to. I'm going to phone the fire service back and tell to get a move on." He pulled out his mobile from his trouser pocket.
I felt my bump tighten as more amniotic fluid gushed out of me. As Ben was dialling, an undeniable pressure, similar to the feeling of needing to empty my bowels, overwhelmed me and I cried out.
"Wait! Oh shit, oh shit."
'What's the matter?" He lowered his phone from his ear.
"I-I think something is happening. Shit, it's happening!"
"Why do you think that?"
"I think I need to push."
"Try not to yet. Just blow. Wooo. Wooo." He demonstrated.
"Wooo. Wooo. Wooo. OH GOD! Ben, I really need to push!"
"Not yet. You're doing so well. Just breathe, in and out. That's all you need to think about."
"Wooo. Wooo. Wooo."
Finally, the contraction, longer and more intense than any before, ended. Ben was still crouched next to me, his hand on my forearm.
"Do you mind if I take a look at you Claire?" he asked.
Vulnerable and frightened, for a second I hesitated. I turned my head and stared at him. Looking directly into my eyes, he read my mind.
"I know I'm not on duty but I absolutely promise you that I am a registered doctor. You're safe. I just want to check you. If this baby is coming now I need to know as I think I'll be the one delivering it." He looked at me, waiting for my consent.
"Okay, you can look."
He stood up and then knelt down again, positioning himself between my legs, my bare feet either side of his knees.
"Is it alright if I roll your dress up a wee bit so I can get a proper look?"
I nodded. He rolled my dress up to my hips and then gestured at my sodden knickers with an apologetic look in his eyes.
"I'll need you to take these off. Do you need me to help?"
I nodded, breathing heavily. I lifted my wet bum up a fraction and rolled them past my hips. He grabbed my knickers, pulled them down my slender legs and threw them to the side of me. I saw him quickly glance in the direction of my crotch. I had opted for a wax in preparation for the birth so there was nothing to hide my pink, puffy labia, glistening clit and puckered anus.
"I'll need you to try and open your legs a bit more for me too," he said quietly, touching my knees.
What else was I going to do? I was in labour on the floor of a broken lift and the handsome, sweet guy claiming he was a doctor was knelt between my legs asking to see my vagina.
"Okay, lemme just..." I struggled to maneuver my legs.
"Here, let me help you."
Gently pushing my knees apart, he helped me in separate my legs as much as I could manage in the awkward position I was in. Because I was sat on the floor, the angle he was at was poorly suited to seeing if my baby's birth was imminent, but I followed his gaze as he assessed my naked, leaking pussy. I wondered how just far he could see into my vagina as he looked at my labia, stretched and glistening in front of him, and how much attention he was paying to my neat little clit which nestled, the glimmering jewel of the crown, in my luscious folds. Baring my swollen pussy to him, arousal surged through me as I imagined his fingers exploring every crevice. The huge erection in his trousers was impossible to not notice.
"I can't see anything," he said quietly. His hand travelled down to his crotch, hiding his boner. I saw his cheeks flush slightly, his eyes averted from my gaze. He knew I had seen.
"Are you sure?" I asked, silently reminding myself I was giving birth in a malfunctioning lift, not on a date.
Before he could answer, another contraction took hold of me and I cried out in pain. But a second sensation crept up behind it. It was the uncontrollable, udeniable urge to bear down. As my body succumbed, I felt movement in my bum. My sphincter opened and something warm and soft landed between my butt cheeks.
"Oh god!"
He glanced down at my gaping hole before him. A nugget of poop had emerged just beneath it - I had started to push.
His expression changed from embarrassment to anxiety, bordering on panic. He took a deep breath.
"Can you pant for me?" He demonstrated. "Come on, do it with me."
I panted.
"Good, let's just get you through this contraction." He grabbed my hand. "Hold my hand if you need to. Go on, squeeze it."
I panted and squeezed his hand while the contraction peaked and then slowly eased. I thought he would want to let go after but he kept his steady, strong grip on my fingers.
"Okay, Claire, normally a midwife wearing gloves would do this, but given the situation," -he gestured at their surroundings- "would you let me examine you? I know you want to push but pushing before you're fully dilated will damage your cervix."
I nodded, unable to speak.
"Can I do it now before the next contraction?"
I nodded again.
"Thank you. Just try to relax. Take deep breaths. I'll do it slowly." Gently, almost tenderly, he inserted two fingers into my vagina. His hand was warm as he slowly seperated his fingers inside me, assessing the dilation of my cervix. The sensation of being examined so intimately was not pleasant but as I breathed deeply, it struck me that no partner had ever been so gentle when they were fingering me.
"Ooooh," I whimpered.
"I'm so sorry, I know this isn't nice," he said soothingly.
After a few seconds he sighed, withdrew his wet fingers and looked into my eyes.
"Claire, in my experience as an obstetrician, you're fully dilated, which means baby is coming now. I know the emergency services are on their way and know you're in labour but I still don't think we're going to be able to get you out of this lift in time so if it's okay with you I'm going to help you have this baby right here."
I could have cried. "Here, right here? Now?"
"Yeah, baby isn't waiting."
"But I can't give birth on the floor of a lift!"
"I don't think we have a lot of choice. But at least baby chose to come with a doctor in the same lift, right?" He grinned and then spoke more seriously. "This is a first for me too, but we will do it together - you, me and baby."
A contraction was building. He saw it in my face before I said anything. "Right Claire, I know I said pant during the last one, but I want you push now. As hard as you can. Grab my hand. Now Push! Go on Claire!"
As the contraction ripped through me, I gave in to my body's efforts to force the baby through my cervix and into the birth canal. It was torturous, no doubt about that, but being able to actually do something other than just endure the pain was satisfying. All I felt outside my body was a spurt of my waters and a slight movement in my bowels as baby's head pressed my rectum. As the contraction ended, I looked at him. He was still holding my hand tightly with his. I noticed the grooves my nails had made in his flesh. As he looked up from my labouring vulva, he smiled.
"That was beautiful. Well done."
"Did you see anything?"
"No, not yet but it can take a few pushes to see baby. Just breathe now until the next contraction comes."
I shut my eyes for the few seconds of respite that had come my way. Sweat was beading on my forehead. Ben looked like the sort who would have mopped my brow if there was anything in this godforsaken box to do it with. Less than a minute later the next contraction came.
"Push, Claire!" He was squeezing my hand before I was squeezing his.
I pushed with all the energy I had. A grunting noise erupted from me that I had never heard before, low and primal. If you had told me twenty four hours ago that I'd have my bare pussy out in a lift with a gorgeous stranger staring intently at it, I'd have been fucking mortified, but I guess the situation really does change your perspective. All I could focus on was driving this baby out of my body. As the contraction ended, I looked up at him. Still holding my hand, he smiled encouragingly.
"You are doing so well. One more and I think we might see baby. Do you know what you're having?"
"A girl."
"I have three boys but would have loved a little girl," he said, a somewhat sad smile appearing on his face. "Do you know what you're calling her?"
"I have a list. Not decided yet."
"Shall we try and get the top of her head out with this next contraction? "
I nodded, and then pushed as the next contraction ravaged me.
This time I felt my penenium being pulled taut and my labia forced open. I cried out in pain, fluid trickling out of me and dripping down onto my bulging asshole. The fiery sensation of my vagina being forced open made me yell.
"I can see the head! Push! Push, push, push! Go on Claire!" he exclaimed. I saw the look of delight on his face as he watched the top of my baby's head emerge for the first time, as though he had not been present at hundreds of births before. This reaction I supposed could be the difference between just good doctor and a great one.
"I can't! It huuuuurts! Oh my god, it hurts!" I screeched.
But even as the words fell out of my mouth, that undeniable urge to bear down overwhelmed me again. As I gritted my teeth, I felt my body pushing involuntarily despite the pain.
"You're doing it Claire! You're doing so well, come on!"
But the pain rolled away into nothing, and I slumped against the wall. I had thought if I had a mirror I may just be able to see the teardrop shape of my baby's head emerging.
"That's it, there's her head! She's got lots of brown hair."
"Oh my god..."
"For the next one you're going to crown, ok? I'm going to support your bottom but I don't want you to push. Just do little pants like before. I really want to avoid you tearing."
"But I'm pushing without even trying."
"Panting will help you to not push". He reached to his collar and began to undo his tie. I vaguely wondered what he was doing until he folded it up and said, "I'm going to have to improvise here. I'm going to use this as gauze to put pressure on your bottom as baby's head is born. It will help stop you tearing. I'm going to have to sit at the side of you to be at the right angle, okay?"
I nodded and then watched him reposition himself to my left side where he knelt beside me. "I can still hold your hand from here. Tell me when the next one comes."
It came before I could tell him. I screamed - a low, primal scream from deep within me, a noise I had never heard before. The ring of fire burned aggressively as my baby's head was forced further out of my tormented body. I felt his him reach down between my legs with the tie balanced in his left hand and position it on my stretched perenium. As the contraction thundered through me, he applied pressure underneath my vulva. I felt the warmth of his finger tips resting on the bottom of my pussy lips as my baby nudged his hand.
"Pant Claire."
I tried to pant like he showed me, my breath shallow and quick. I felt the baby's head slip out of me another half inch. It was agonising to not do what my body was screaming at me to do but I released that frustration on his right hand which I was clutching to for dear life. If I was hurting his hand he didn't show it.
"Lots of little pants! You're doing amazing. Wooo, wooo, wooo."
As I crowned, the pain in my stretched genitals overwhelmed me and I bellowed.
"It hurts! Oh god, get it out! Get it OOOOUUUT!"
"This is the worst bit, I promise. Just keep panting. You're so close now." With one hand still cupping my battered pussy, he held onto me with his other. As rest of the head painfully slipped out with a slosh of bloody fluid, the contraction tailed off.
"You are so, so close now. I'm just going to check the cord isn't around baby's neck." He looked at me proudly, as though it was his baby I was bringing into the world.
Kneeling down again in between my legs, he ran his index finger under my baby's chin and around her neck. I felt the back of his hand brush my clit and despite the pain I was in just a minute before, a surge of pleasure radiated from my swollen jewel to the rest of my body. I wondered if his dick was still hard.
"Cord is fine. Baby is coming with the next contraction. I'm going to put her straight on your chest."
"It hurts so fucking much."
"Nearly there. One last really big push and I promise you she will be in your arms. She just needs to turn now."
I felt movement as baby turned to face my left thigh. When the pain came and I bore down, he supported the head as I pushed it into his skilled hands. The shoulders came next which he eased out of me one by one. Finally I birthed the rest of my daughter into his arms.
"Hello there, beautiful!" He cooed at the tiny, squirming baby in his fluid-splattered arms. She began crying immediately and he carefully transferred her onto my chest. "Definitely a little girl. I think she wants her mummy."
"I did it!" I gasped, as I cuddled my newborn daughter.
"You did it! You were absolutely fantastic." Ben smiled at me shaking his head as though he did not believe what happened.
"You did it as well!"
"Well, like I said, delivering a baby in a lift is a first for me but you're both safe so I consider that a job well done," he laughed.
"Thank you so much! You could have just let me deal with that myself and you didn't." My teeth chattered as I began shivering.
"I'd be a pretty diabolical doctor if I did that," he grinned. He then unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the fit, chisled body underneath. Taking the shirt off, he draped it over me and my screaming daughter. This act of kindness combined with exhaustion and relief of giving birth reduced me to tears.
"That's what I mean. You're so kind!" I sobbed.
"You're both vulnerable to the cold right now. It's the best I can do until we can get you both a proper blanket." He looked at the baby, still crying lustility, her head moving instictively from side to side. "She's rooting. Do you want to try feeding her?"
I tried to unbutton the front of my dress but my hand was shaking too much to do it one handed.
"Let me do it. Does it undo from the back?"
Nodding, I leaned forward and he unzipped my dress from the back. He then unhooked my bra and, helping me to slowly take each arm out from both garments, he rolled them down my body to expose my now engorged, veiny breasts. I sat back against the wall again.
"I'm going to put her on your breast now." Using one hand to position my left breast and the other to gently move the baby's head, he helped my crying daughter to latch on. I felt a sharp pain but it slowly eased as she suckled, taking her first feed with relish. He beamed and draped his shirt back over us both. "I'm no lactation consultant but I watched my ex-wife do that every single day for at least five years. Now, I need to ring the emergency services back and update them."
Before he could take his phone out, the lift jolted suddenly and began moving. After five seconds, it stopped again, voices audible outside. A mechanical hammering noise, a juddering creak of the doors being prized open, and the faces of two shocked firefighters appeared.
"You didn't make it in time for the fireworks, sorry!" Ben stood up grinning, gesturing at myself, baby cradled contentedly on my chest. "Mum and baby are fine. Can we get a wheelchair for Claire, some clean towels and possibly a pair of scrubs for me?"
**Warning: fetish content** Contains graphic description of birth.
This one includes
Trans dad
Fast, unassisted birth
Fetal ejection reflex
Supportive partner
--
The contraction hits River like a truck. One second he's moaning deep, the next he's leaning over his lap on the toilet, crunching down with the hardest, deepest grunt, his body pushing on its own.
"AAAAAAAOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUWHHHHHH..."
It's so hard. His knees are together, feet pointed outwards. As his body continues to bear down and strain, he leans harder over his lap, his rock-hard belly touching his shaking thighs, his hands reaching back to grip the back of the toilet.
He can barely get a breath in before his body says it's time to push again, and push hard. He grunts even tighter, higher, his feet lifting off the floor as he squints at a spot on the wall.
"AAAAAOOOOOHHHHHH FFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKUHH!!!"
He pants, willing the acid in his stomach to stay down. "Oh, she's coming. She's coming, James I can't--" his voice cuts off into a really tight grunt as he feels James's hand on his back. "eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrr........"
"You're doing it, love, come on."
All he feels is fire. It feels like his entire body is being sucked down out of his hole, all the pressure in the world being concentrated in that tender spot. He can feel her head inside him, feel his body squeeeeze with all its might as she lowers through his pelvis. He can hear some fluid plop into the water past his own inhuman grunting, and he needs to breathe. He knows he needs to breathe but he can't stop it. The urge to push is so strong, it's overpowering him completely.
Then, quicker than ever comes the burning. That intense, all-encompassing fire as his baby's hard skull lowers and widens his tissue. Why do all of their babies have such big fucking heads?
He tries not to scream, but he just can't stop it. It's completely beyond his control as he leans more over his lap, gripping the toilet for dear life, knees coming up higher and feet off the floor, teeth bared and his eyes finally scrunching shut.
But River can't! His body is locked in, locked down, he's pushing with every fucking muscle he has, feeling that huge head push just behind his tissue. He's going to fucking push her out into the toilet!
But it stops. Eventually, it has to. River is properly panting, burning and trembling everywhere. He widens his legs, puts a hand down there to feel. Her head is right there, already peeking out past his slit.
"Do you want to go on your hands and knees?" James asks him, taking his arm and supporting his trembling weight.
River just keeps panting and feeling, then wipes the blood on his fingers on his thigh. "I dunno. I dunno, I just need her out. I can't do it... I can't."
"Of course you can," James insists. "You're already doing it, baby, her head's right there."
Sooner than expected, he feels the urge again. He grips for James's sleeve with his bloody fingers, panting hard as his belly contracts inward.
"She's coming, she's coming," River pants, feeling himself start to bear down, feeling his muscles contract and open around her hard head. He needs to get upright.
James is only supporting half his weight and River is barely off the toilet seat, still standing with his knees bent low, but there's no time. He needs to push now. He's still grunting, trying not to panic, and he grips the back of James's shirt and his own thigh as his body locks in, belly going taut against him and all his muscles stiffening, and he gives a huge push down, dipping lower and stiffer.
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRR" The grunt is guttural and wet, involuntary, as he bears down as hard and long as he can. Her head is a bowling ball in his pelvis, dropped low and stretching his tissue like hell. It feels like it's stretched to its limit, but he knows there's so much more to go. The pressure is intense. It's impossible to stop, and it feels like he's going to split in half if he keeps going. There's only one way out of this. He thinks he can get her head out on this one if he just pushes really, really hard.
He raises just a little as the push ebbs away, James scrambling to fix his grip on him -- he must be heavy -- but then he gears up to go right back. Reaches back to pull the bottom of his ass cheek open in the vain hope that it'll help make room for her head. He can feel his entire body shaking, his stiff legs especially, spread as wide open as he can get them. He's having trouble getting a grip with his foot on the floor.
With a hard and guttural involuntary "EUH---", River focuses all of his power on pushing down on that burning bowling ball. He starts to tip his head back as he bares his teeth, trembling with the force, still holding himself open and squatting a little deeper into the pressure as if that'll help pop her head out. He hears James's voice, but not the words. He knows he's not going to get her head out when he starts to feel that red hot desperation for air. Just a little more though, he can feel her slipping down, moving on out on her own, making his body keep hold of the push...
But right when he feels her move, he can't hold it anymore. His held air bursts out of him with a "DAH!" and he has no idea how long he held it.
James had bent his knees a little bit to keep them both upright. He's gripping River fiercely, trembling himself as River hears him saying, "Amazing, baby, you're right there."
River uses his hand behind himself to feel his perineum. He's stretched open, her heavy head peeking out. It bobs up and down just a little as he pants. He can feel her moving and dropping. She wants to come out. It's impossible to hold that pressure and burning. He can't wait. He needs to push her out.
With another guttural grunt, his body makes the choice for him. He feels his belly squeeze her down, and he leans down into it, lowering his pelvis a bit more so he's more or less sitting in the air, his stiff arm holding the underside of his thigh now, just near her descending head.
He hears himself grunt, tight and unrecognizable, "She'scom...."
He hears James encouraging him to push. Just a little more.
His grunt escapes into a guttural strain, and he feels himself bend down more. The pressure is insane. His face is burning, his body completely covered in sweat. It's dripping down his neck, the sides of his big hard belly, his thighs, his ankles.
He widens his legs more at the end of this push as far as they can go, legs trembling, putting a little more into it, as much as he possibly can for the final oompf, and his trembly strangled grunt bursts out of his teeth, "DHHR!!"
He can feel the burn as his stretched tissue bounces back up, her head hiding back. But with a quick feel, he can tell she's almost there.
"Come on, baby," he pants. "Come on, you can do it."
James helps him to his knees on a towel on the floor. He rushes around him, grabbing more towels, River thinks. He doesn't pay attention. He's too busy breathing, breathing, breathing. Just blowing air into that horrible burning and pressure, trying to keep open, trying not to clamp down on her head and suck her back inside.
"That's so good, Riv, keep doing it just like that," he hears James say eventually.
Between pressurized blows of air, River asks, "Howmuchisout?"
"Top of her head. She's coming in and out, you're gonna push her head out on the next
one, okay?"
"I'm trying... I'm trying."
"You will. You're doing it perfectly, babe, you just focus now."
He could feel her hard head going back in, taking away some of that intense burning. But then it hits him again, hard as hell. He can't hold on anymore. He has to just surrender, just let go. To hell with being scared of tearing. It's going to happen. He can't stop the urge.
He doesn't even have time to warn James, who's on his feet and running the tap, before he plants his palms on the tile floor and opens his legs as wide as he can with a massive, guttural grunt.
It's so powerful, he can't close his mouth. His belly touches the towel on the floor as he leans back and down, pushing his bottom into the floor with all the pressure in the world.
Holy fuck, the burning. It's opening, he knows, because he feels like he's going to rip wide open.
James is saying something, probably encouragement, but River can't hear the words. He just grunts, tipping his face closer to the floor, feeling like his face is going to fucking explode with all the pressure packed into it. No doubt he's red as a beet.
"UUUHHHHHHHH," he grunts it out, but she wants out right now. He can feel her squirm and turn inside him, helping him but oh, the pain is horrible. He puts his hand over her emerging head as he leans back and bears down again, grunting tight and loud, "SHE'S CROWNIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGUUURRRRGGGGGGGHHH...."
"She is, you've got it, one more."
River shoves down again, determined to push her whole head out on this one. His baby is almost out. It's almost over. He just needs to put in this last bit of effort for her, just needs to be strong.
He gives his baby back-to-back pushes, not even sure if he's still having a contraction anymore. It all hurts like hellfire and he needs her out NOW. His hand is still holding her scalp, so he feels every hard shove as he puts absolutely everything he has into pushing her out, using every muscle in his body and opening, opening, opening.
He can feel James's hands around her crown, can feel a warm towel he has pressed there, and he braces himself for each hard push, bearing down down down into that warm pressure, into his husband's hands. James has them both. It's just them. He can fully let go, can trust James completely.
Push, push, push, River barely makes a sound. Or maybe he does but he can't hear himself anymore. He just clenches down and feels that big hard head stretching him more more, a little more each time. He's locked in. This is it. This is the last of it, and she needs his effort now.
He hears James tell him that he's at her eyes. River is fully primal, straining down so hard as his whole body trembles. He can't give her the chance to suck back in, not now. He has to push her through that threshold. All other thoughts besides PUSH leave his mind as he bears down as hard as he possibly can with singleminded focus, concentrating fully on the burn and stretch as he feels his tissues peel back over her nose.
One more breath in, opening his legs as wide as they can go, his hand feeling the globe of her head, her wet hair, and he shoves back into James's hands completely silent.
He feels her head pop out almost instantly, the quickest sharpest burn, and there's the relief. Fluid is dripping to the towel, down River's arm as he's still holding her head. Panting and shouting, River feels her head before he needs to put both hands on the floor and brace himself. He's still contracting, harder this time. It's the last bit of strength, the final push, the final stretch. He's leaving blood on the floor under his hand. He can hear James sobbing and sniffling with joy and anxiety. For him, for their girl, River has to make this count.
Mouth wide open, River roars with all his God-given strength, giving their baby the hardest push of his life. His mind detaches from his body as he feels her shoulder pop down and stretch him open.
He can see himself as if he's looking at someone else, on his knees on the floor, spread wide open, his t-shirt rucked up over his muscular back as he spreads his arms out and holds them open across the floor, his chin practically on the tiles and his face completely red and shiny as he makes an inhuman sound through his clenched teeth. And his baby's head fully out, James's hands holding beneath her so gently. Her neck is out, the rest of her coming slowly and steadily with River's strength. James doesn't pull at all. She comes out with River's final push alone.
Her body is soft and wiggly. With that final brutal push, she shoots out into James's hands and the towel he holds. River releases his air and his strength in a loud, breathy grunt. His body wants to collapse, but he has to make sure she's okay. He has to hear her cry.
"James," he pants, "Oh, oh, oh God!"
"She's okay, Riv, she's trying to cry!"
River tries to turn, and James helps him. He sits up, his back against James's chest, as James passes him their baby through his legs. James helps him lift up his t-shirt, now soiled, so their baby can feel his skin.
There she is. She's pink, her hair as wet and dark as her siblings. She's shrieking, her gummy mouth wide open. The shape of her head is practically round, not coned.
"That was so fast," River cries. "Fuck, I thought I was going to die!" He properly sobs then, and James kisses him, crying himself. Together they cradle their daughter against his chest.
"You did it on your own," James says against his face. "I knew you could. My God, Riv, your strength. You are no-nonsense."
River laugh-sobs, and they turn their attention to their baby.
Dave the handyman knows he’s in labor, but he thinks he has time for one last service call before he delivers his twins. He does not. ❤️
content: unassisted birth, birth denial (trying not to push), clothing birth
It had been a long drive out, nearly an hour. Dave swore he could feel every minute burned between his legs, the incredible weight of his full-term twins forcing his thighs apart, leaving all the pressure to converge at his crotch. He had to adjust the seat all the way back to account for the forward protrusion of his belly, too, leaving his calves and already-swollen ankles aching from reaching for the pedals, and his back twinging with the effort of leaning just a few inches forward while burdened so heavily.
He groaned, pressing both hands to his overalls as his belly stirred beneath, the domed surface going lopsided around his shifting babies. They hadn’t been moving as much this past week, cramped by the increasingly inadequate confines of his womb, but they could still make a ruckus if they really put their minds to it.
“Now, settle down, kids,” he murmured, rubbing soothing circles over the vast side of his belly. “Papa’s almost done for the day. Then we can— augh.” The surface of his abdomen drew suddenly taut, a cramp wrapping around his torso and pushing into his lower back. He held onto the boulder his belly had become and tried to breathe through the pain, slow and deep, in the nose and out the mouth.
Finally his muscles untensed, and he fell back in his seat, winded. He glanced at the client’s house and grimaced. It was just one last job, probably only replacing a part, if he had diagnosed the problem correctly. He could be in and out in twenty minutes, tops. What was twenty minutes, when he’d already been enduring these contractions for hours? Sure, they’d been starting to get a bit more intense, but this was his first birth, so he probably still had hours of labor ahead of him. He’d have plenty of time.
“Alright,” he sighed. He stroked his belly. “Let’s stay put, okay, kids? Keep Papa company just a little longer.”
Then he began the arduous process of getting out of his truck. It was undignified scooting until he got half of his ass off the seat, then he had to wedge a hand under his belly and hold it up while he turned, so that it didn’t drop off the seat and pull his back. Finally, gripping the door frame with his other hand, he stepped down, and released a winded oof as his body protested keeping itself upright while so overburdened. His back bowed, and even his chest bounced a little with the impact, the bit of breast tissue left over after his top surgery now swollen with milk.
Though sitting for so long left him sore and cramping, getting on his feet made him acutely feel every change of his impending fatherhood. He swore he could sense his hips settling even further apart in real time, the bottom-most twin an imminent weight deep in his pelvis, her tiny head generating a disproportionate amount of pressure on all his tender parts.
He spent a minute or so stretching, but there wasn’t much to be done when a body was this pregnant, so he pulled his tool kit from the back of his truck and began his waddle up to the house. Though, at this point, it was more of a trudge, the cuteness of his rocking posture diminished by how hard it was to get his work boots off the ground. By the time he reached the door, he was breathing heavy from just those few steps, a hand wedged to his aching back. He nudged the doorbell with the corner of his tool box.
A big guy answered the door, probably in his late 20s or early 30s, clean-cut, and didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary until they shook hands and his eyes fell to Dave’s huge belly below. He stared for a moment—everyone always did—before clearing his throat.
“Uh- yeah, uh, come on in— Mister?” His eyes flicked between Dave’s belly and his upper lip, where a thick, well-groomed mustache grew. “Uh, Mister…?”
“Dave,” he supplied, a little tired, but mostly used to this by now.
That was always the most awkward moment since he began to show: strangers grappling with the sight of a clearly pregnant man. After two decades of being stealth, it was a little difficult to know that anyone who looked at him would see his belly and know that he had a womb. And then—the men, especially—would have the next logical thought, and realize there must be a pussy between his legs. He could only guess how frequently even the most unassuming man would think of his cunt. Some of them, he was pretty sure that was all they thought about when they looked at him.
This one was nice, at least, and even tried to offer him a cushion to kneel on for his work. Dave graciously declined, showing off the padded mat he had added to his toolkit about six months ago. The client still looked uneasy, and tried to help him kneel down, then got him a glass of water he didn’t ask for, and finally asked outright if Dave was sure he was up to this.
Dave waved him off, saying aloud that he felt great, internally begging the client to leave before he had another contraction.
Finally the guy left him to it, saying that he needed to run an errand but he’d be back before Dave was done.
No sooner had the client left than Dave’s belly drew horribly tight. He gasped and clutched both it and the nearby counter, and made a strangled, bemused noise as he found his bump just as hard as the marble under his other hand. The pain grew and the pressure tightened until a whine began to build in his chest, ready to break through his teeth at any moment— then suddenly his muscles let up, leaving him gasping and a little dizzy, a chill washing through his limbs.
“Right, okay,” he mumbled, rubbing his bump. He needed to hurry this up. He took a deep breath and exhaled very deliberately, then began to kneel. The process was arduous, his knees threatening to give between the mass of his belly and the breadth of his hips.
Every inch he got closer to the ground, the deeper the weight in his pelvis settled, until it felt like the baby would fall right out of him. Or shoot out, if he sneezed. He knew from experience that it was much more likely that he might have a little accident, but he didn’t want to tempt fate with these contractions ramping up. So, he exhaled shakily and tried to keep his legs together. He just needed to do his job.
His job, as it turned out, was not nearly as simple as he expected. What he thought would be a single part change turned out to be an entire set of pipes that would need to be replaced, but the wood of the surrounding cabinets was so old that it would surely not survive that kind of work. The whole thing needed to be redone. That was a job for another person at another time, but he couldn’t very well leave things in this state when a leak like this was costing his client dozens of dollars a day on the water bill. In this economy?! He had to do something. Maybe he could—
“Hoh—“ He buckled forward, both hands clinging to the lip of the counter above as a contraction gripped him. A low, thin hum grew in his chest as he bore the vice, his fingers cramping. It left him panting when it passed. He dropped a hand to his belly, to the side that had gone wonky and pointy as his descending children protested being squeezed.
“Slow down, kids,” he whispered, chest heaving. “Give Papa a little more time.”
Once he caught his breath, he pulled a mask and spackling out of his bag. With his face protected from fumes and potential rot, he leaned forward—grunting as his belly pressed against the mat, as his twins’ weight stung his spine—and got to patching up the worst of the leakage.
Speaking of leakage… leaning forward like this, his chest felt incredibly tight and heavy. He wouldn’t be surprised if he took off his overalls after this and found sweet colostrum staining the inside of his undershirt. Good. He would be ready to feed his babies.
He got a good bit of spackling done before the next contraction. This one was the hardest yet. The air evacuated his lungs, forcing out a gravelly sound as his throat drew tight. On his hands and knees like this, the tension was the worst in his back, strung through his tailbone all the way to his anus.
When it had mostly passed, he unclenched his hands, and found his left trembling, with the shape of the spackling tool indented in his palm. He set it thoughtlessly aside and put both hands flat to the floor of the cabinet, needing leverage to follow his body’s instinct to rock back and forth on all fours. His lower back especially still felt horribly tight, and the pressure in his belly had only grown. But the rocking relieved some of the tension in his lumbar region and hips, though every shift backward made him feel like the baby might pop right out of him.
Releasing a trembling sigh, he picked his tool up and got back to work. The sooner he could finish, the sooner he’d be out of here.
He didn’t know how long he worked. In the back of his mind was a voice screaming that he should be timing these contractions, that he needed to leave for the hospital now, given how far they were from civilization. But at the forefront of his mind was the task. He just had to finish this. Then he would get in his truck and drive to the hospital and it would all be fine. There was time. There had to be. Sweat dripped from his forehead and his belly strained like it carried solid lead and his hips felt like they might not survive standing up, but there would be time.
Finally, he finished the work. It wasn’t his best, but it was pretty good considering how many times he had been interrupted by his other labor.
Dreading the ordeal of getting back on his feet, he crawled around gathering his things, belly dragging on the floor. He whimpered out a curse as another contraction took him, wringing out a deep, throaty moan.
“Ohhhh, ho, hoh- no, oh no,” he panted, leaning back into it until his rock-hard belly rested on his thighs. The angle helped his hips but made him feel so tight from his perineum to his lower back, granting him a sickening insight into exactly where his child’s head was angled. It hurt so *bad*, he didn’t even know if he could sit down like this, let alone drive.
By the time he realized he had broken the cardinal rule of laboring—keep your breathing calm—he was already panting. His head swam and he was starting to feel sick and the waves of panic left his limbs tingling. He didn’t have time. He needed an ambulance.
He reached into his pocket for his phone… wait. Where was it? Oh god. He patted over his many pockets, but already he could envision his cell still docked above his radio, where he’d left it, back in the truck.
“No, no, no, no,” he panted. How could he make a mistake like that?! “Dave, you dummy, you- you…” he couldn’t even think of another word for how foolish he was, all he could think of was the pressure, the weight, the inevitable forcing his body wide open.
“Calm down,” he mumbled, swiping the sweat from his brow. There was nothing else to do, now; he just had to get the phone.
Well— first, he had to get up.
Trying to even his breathing, he reached for the counter again and got his arms situated against the marble edge. Then he counted one, two, three, and heaved himself up. Or, he tried to. He barely even unbent his legs before his struggling lower back and split-open abs failed, his anvil of a belly pulling him back into a squat. The sensation of the baby plummeting punched a wheeze out of him and made his stomach lurch, and for a moment he thought the head must have actually popped out before he realized he would definitely know if that had happened.
He muttered, “Keep your head on, Dave,” and shifted his boots further apart before trying again. With a colossal groan, trembling limbs, and a full ten seconds of effort, he finally made it back to his feet. He leaned against the counter while he caught his breath, clutching his heaving belly with one hand.
But he didn’t stay upright for long. The next contraction came already, and he barely had time to eke out a noise of dismay before the pain bent him against the counter, the breath forced out of him as the tension pulled his chest towards his belly. His elbows caught him on the marble, but that jarring pain was a mere tickle compared to the sensation of every muscle in his lower body working to tear a hole inside of him. The sheer energy required for the contraction generated heat all through his crushed guts and pinched stomach, and he gagged, whimpering as he swallowed against the urge to vomit on his client’s beautiful counter.
Finally, it ended. His whole body trembled, his sweat speckling the marble. He only lifted his weary head because that kept the bile from rushing up his throat.
Much like being on his knees, bending over the counter like this felt oddly natural, keeping his pelvic bones splayed wide. He wanted desperately to stay there, but the fear of doing the rest of this alone gave him the strength to push upright on shivering arms. So, a hand to his spasming back and one rubbing his belly, he waddle-trudged to the door.
Though he’d feared the trek to his vehicle, it was actually a bit of a relief. Apparently all of that about walking being good for labor was true; it stretched his muscles and made his loosened hips feel even more open. The sensation of his baby oscillating with each step wasn’t necessarily good, but it was its own kind of relief, a bit of variety in the never-relenting pressure.
Finally, he made it to his truck. He leaned heavily on the trusty old girl as he rounded the hood towards the driver’s side. He opened the door and stared at the step up into the high cab before deciding he wasn’t up to climbing. Instead he turned to his side, moving his belly out of the way, and reached over the seat for his phone.
Of course, that was when the next one hit.
The tension and the pain converged on him again, nearly as bad as last time. But there was another feeling, one that took him by surprise too much to resist: the need to push.
His hands fell to his thighs. Knees bending, lungs swelling, head ducking, he instinctively narrowed every muscle down towards his abdomen. The pressure he’d thought couldn’t get any worse somehow did, made him feel like he was about to burst and implode all at once as it inched lower, reigniting the tension near his tailbone and shooting down to his asshole. A deep sound buzzed in his chest, his voice seeping out unchecked as the effort took him over. Deliriously, he thought about how proud he’d been when HRT first lowered his voice, and how he never would have imagined hearing his new baritone strain as he pushed a child into the world.
The contraction eased up, and he stopped pushing, light-headed, limbs tingling, gasping for breath. “Haaa… fu- huh… ohhh…”
Wow, yeah, that definitely was a head in his vagina. The obstruction made him feel a bit delirious, made him want to fall against the truck and twist and wail and squirm and push until it was out. But he couldn’t afford that kind of tantrum, and he knew enough not to push without a contraction, let alone standing over a gravel driveway in the middle of nowhere.
“Alright, Dave, stand up,” he mumbled.
He unbent his legs, but couldn’t bring himself to straighten out his back and lose the relief of his tilted pelvis. That made it a bit of a reach up into the tall cab for the phone. He almost knocked it out of its dock with his unsteady hand, but he managed to curl his fingers around it. It took him a few tries to successfully pull up the keypad and dial. As it rang, he dropped his arms to the seat and rested his forehead on them, hips instinctively swaying, belly heaving gently as he struggled to keep his breathing in check.
A calm voice came over the speaker. “911, what is your emergency?”
He gasped in relief, head snapping up. “Hey! Hey, hello, yes, I’m in labor. Baby’s coming faster than I thought. I need an ambulance.”
“Your wife is in labor?”
His heart sank towards his stomach, a long plunging sensation for such a cramped amount of space. “No, no, I am. I’m having twins.”
“Sir, are you aware it can be a class four felony to make a fraudulent 911 call?”
This far into his life as a transgender man, Dave wouldn’t have thought this sort of thing could get to him anymore. But with a child forcing him apart, it made him gasp a helpless sob.
“No, no, don’t hang up, please, my name is Dave, I’m transgender, as in I- I used to be a woman, but, I-I’m a man now, I just still have a- you know, a uterus, and I- I’m pregnant with my first - with twins, 36 weeks and- four days I think? I thought I had time, I thought - but the first baby is coming, I think I need to start pushing, and—“
“Whoa, whoa, okay, hey, it’s alright. You’re alright, I’m not hanging up. I apologize, sir. I’m here to help you. Can you give me your address?”
“Uh… shoot, I’m- I’m on a job, I have to…” he pulled the phone away from his ear and fumbled through apps before he got the map back up. He read the address off.
“Okay. I’m sending an ambulance to your location. Now, you said you feel like you need to push?”
“Yeah,” he rasped. “I don’t think it’ll take much. She- the baby’s through my cervix, definitely, she feels low- really, really low.”
“How long have you felt like you needed to push?”
“Uh- well, not long, just one contraction so far. But it was- it was really intense. And I’ve been having, um, bad contractions for a while.”
“Okay. How far apart?”
“I haven’t been timing them. Uh… maybe four or five minutes apart before, but now? Less than three. Maybe even two.”
“Okay. Is there anyone there who can assist you?”
He looked forlornly at the tree-lined road winding empty towards the horizon. “Nobody for miles.”
“Okay, that’s okay. Can you reach your vagina, sir?”
He looked down, and groaned a soft, wavering sound at the sheer mass filling his overalls. “I dunno. My belly is so big…”
“Alright. Can you try for me?”
“Oh, jeez. Okay. Uh…” He set the phone down, then stretched an arm out and dug his nails around the leather piping on the opposite side of the car’s seat, anchoring himself. Then he shifted his feet back to deepen his bend, puffing his cheeks with a loud exhalation as he slid his other hand down his immense side.
It strained his shoulder and left him wheezing, but he finally managed the seemingly impossible task of getting his hand between his legs. With some wriggling and the help of a foot lifted onto the truck’s stair, he was able to reach the warm center of his crotch, where his vaginal opening hid beneath layers of canvas and cotton.
“Okay— ah- sh- shoot- okay, I can reach.” He hissed through his teeth. “Barely.”
“Alright, when you insert your fingers, do you feel your baby’s head?”
“Uh… I can’t do that. I’m in overalls.”
“…Can you get them off?”
“Oh.” He withdrew the hand from between his legs. “Let me see if I can…” He reached for the clasp of his overall strap. Teeth clenched, he struggled with the little thing and cursed himself for not choosing something easier to get in and out of. He’d barely been able to get the damn things off and back on when he took his bathroom break before the drive, and now, with his underbelly distended all the way to his pelvis by his descending child, the fabric was pulled far too sharply to get any leverage for lifting the clasps.
It wasn’t until he heard a concerned, “Don’t strain yourself,” over the phone that he realized he was making a thin, forceful noise in his throat, and his forehead was actually quite hot with the built-up effort. He let go of the strap with a huff and found himself panting.
“Shit,” he said, then, “sorry. Shoot.”
“What happened?”
“I think I’m stuck in my overalls. My- my belly’s changed shape since I put them on, and it’s made them too tight. I can’t undo the clasps now. Heck,” he added, with one last vehement pull of the denim strap. “Okay, okay, I’ve got shears with me, so- maybe I can cut myself out of them?”
“That sounds like a good plan, as long as you’re careful.”
“Right.” He looked to his trunk, where he kept his tool kit.
Where it currently was not, because he took it inside for the job.
“Oh, no,” he mumbled.
“What?”
“They’re inside. My tools are.”
“That’s okay. It might seem difficult, but it’s recommended to walk during labor.”
Dave grimaced, but he knew from experience that the operator was right. The operator… “Hey- sorry, I didn’t ask your name.”
“Oh! Uh, Henry.”
“Nice to meet you, Henry. I’m Dave.”
“Dave, right. Hi, Dave.”
“Hi. I’m gonna stick you in my pocket while I head inside, okay?
“Okay. Just watch your step, you don’t want to fall right now.”
“Okay, Hen.”
He looked up towards the house, considering the length of the journey, while he reached for his phone. Eyes elsewhere, he didn’t realize he missed his pocket until he heard the case knock against the stair of the truck and hit the gravel below.
All instinct and pregnancy-brained impulse, he squatted down to pick it up. By the time he realized what he was doing, it was too late to change tracks; the enormous weight of his belly was already dragging him down. A helpless groan punched out of him as his legs hit their deepest squat and the weight inside him lurched down, straining his crotch, so low he was sure it must be just behind his pussy lips.
“Oh, jeez,” he panted, “oh god, oh jeez, oh jeez—“
“Dave? Dave, are you there?” The gravel made the speakerphone sound tinny and distant, like Henry was actually a small man hiding in the pebbles. “Can you hear me?”
“Y-yeah,” Dave rasped.
“What happened?”
“Just- dropped my phone like a dummy. Happens. I’ve gotta—“
Tension plunged through his pelvis. He yelped, dwindling to a thin rasp as he tipped forward. He managed to catch himself with one hand against the car, while the other clutched at his belly, lumpy now as his locked-tight muscles shrunk around the emerging baby, and the one still waiting in his womb.
Then the claws in his back and the pressure in his hips and the noose around his belly all tightened at once, defied by the massive disruption in his core. A single thought remained in his head:
“Needtopush.”
Over the blood roaring in his ears, he barely heard Henry saying, “No, not yet, not yet, you need to get the overalls off first. Hear me? Don’t push, you can’t push yet!”
When he had found out he would be delivering twins at the ripe age of forty, Dave had immediately worried he wouldn’t have the stamina to make it through labor, the possible hours of pushing.
He never would have guessed how difficult it would be not to push.
His throat caught on a loud, humming kind of moan, desperate to listen to his body, but he channeled the urge to push elsewhere and shoved his hand against the metal siding of the car until it dented with a thump. Despite his valiant effort not to move things along, he acutely felt his womb squeezing the baby lower, slowly, agonizingly stretching him until he was sure his whole birth canal was full.
Finally the contraction passed. Dave dropped forward onto his knees and scattered gravel as he reached thoughtlessly for the phone.
“Dave? Dave, you there?”
“I didn’t push,” he panted. “But- the baby feels so low. Oh. Ohhh, I’m so full. Ohhhhh god. I think she’s gonna come on the next one whether I push or not.” He made a forlorn little sound in the back of this throat. “She’s coming, her head’s gotta be coming soon, it’s so big, I can feel it—“
“Dave, hey, don’t panic, alright? I need you to try to feel through your overalls. Does your pubic region feel domed outward?”
Clumsily, he managed to get his hand down there. The area was sensitive, and the pain persisted, but the touch of his fingers barely agitated it. It all felt swollen, but then, it had for a few months now. “I don’t think so?”
“Okay, that means you're not delivering the head yet. Can you breathe with me?”
Right, he was panting again. He rubbed his belly in slow, easy loops, and tried to breathe with the rhythm Henry was demonstrating on the other line. When he felt a bit more stable, he mumbled, “Sorry, normally I don’t lose my head like this, I just thought I had more time, and—“
“You’re doing great, Dave. Just try to get to those shears as quick as you can, but don’t hurt yourself, okay?”
Dave wanted to mutter something a little mean-spirited about how that was easy for Henry to say, since he didn’t have the first of two babies filling his vagina, but instead he just grunted as he gripped the seat edge above him and started to drag himself upright.
Then: a strange snapping sensation inside him, a sudden release of pressure, and the baby slipped lower with a distinct feeling of becoming lodged, no longer an amorphous mass but now a very clear physical shape, complete with angles and edges wedged between his bones. He groaned, only to gasp at the sudden gush of moisture between his thighs. For a moment he thought he’d wet himself, but as the inseam of his overalls grew warm with more and more liquid, he knew what had happened.
“Hooooh. Okay. Okay, looks like my water broke.”
“Oh! Okay, that’s alright, Dave. Nothing’s changed. Just get those scissors, okay?”
“Oka—ayyyye, ohh hoh hoh. Wow.”
Apparently the amniotic sac had been doing a lot of work keeping baby where she was; as he stood completely, he found her so low that he couldn’t believe she wasn’t falling into his overalls. Which, based on how his pussy was burning, really seemed on the table.
He bent to one side with a groan and managed to get his hand between his legs again. The fluid had left everything clinging, and this time he felt it all more distinctively: the hill of his pubic fat stretched by what was happening inside of him, his engorged t-dick, the puffy folds that had been swelling by the day as he neared the end of his pregnancy. But when he spread his fingers and traced the area, cupped it in his hand…
“Okay, shoot, okay, the baby- uh- dropped a little when my water broke, and now I can feel the head. Not- not coming out yet, but- but I’m all- starting to bulge, like you said—“
“Okay, we’re gonna hurry up and get those shears, then, right?”
“Right. Right, yeah.”
It was, in fact, much easier said than done. Dave was hardly even walking anymore, his legs absurdly bowed around the growing burn, each step a heavy rocking motion as he fought the momentum of his belly. It wanted to propel him forward, pull him down.
Unfortunately, moving like so much molasses, he had nothing to do but reflect on his situation, and the indescribable pressure behind his cunt, and how it felt like his hips were being displaced by his trusty Black Widow pearl-reactive 12-pounder with the Predator V1 Asymmetric core. Then he thought about getting back into bowling for a moment before an innocuous step made his pelvic bones feel like they were grinding together, and he decided it was probably a bad time to think about his hobbies, since he was about to have two babies on his hands.
“Almost there,” he wheezed, as much to Henry as to himself.
“Good job, Dave, you’re doing great.”
No sooner had he put his hand on the door knob than he began to feel the tightening in his back and belly again. “Hoh, oh no, one’s coming, a big one— ohhhhh…”
He lifted his elbows and fell against them on the door, folding his forearms to have something to rest his head against, and to dig his nails into his own elbows. The pressure in his belly only grew, spreading down, locking muscles he didn’t even know he had, steel forcing the unyielding mass in his pelvis even lower.
“Ohhh I wanna push, I need to puuuush!” he groaned, but he didn’t. He made strange, almost melodic noises as he rode out the urge, eyes welling, throat dry. The baby kept sinking lower. The steady burn in his cunt sharpened, and the sting spread to his perineum. He whined, his legs instinctively trying to close to get away, but unable to shut with the baby where she was.
Finally it passed, and as the white noise died in his ears, he heard Henry babbling something at him.
“I didn’t push,” he whimpered.
“Good, that’s—“
“Doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, the head is coming. Ohh, it burns. It really burns, she’s coming, I’m having her now!” He groaned as he struggled to get a hand between his legs again. Then he gasped. “Oh, jeez. Oh, I’m so full, everything’s all pushed out, it’s bulging. It burns, it fucking burns, she’s coming now.”
“Alright, Dave, you need to get to those shears, then. Get those shears and you can have your baby, okay?”
With his next step, he suddenly remembered a diagram he saw of a mother pushing, how the baby stretched her open from her depths to her lips, her birth canal so wide it looked like her womb reached right to her cunt. He felt that now, his whole person transforming into nothing but a passage for his baby.
Every instinct told him to stop right where he was and drop into a squat, to work with his body’s painstaking rearrangement, help it fulfill its purpose, and push. But the baby could get hurt if he delivered her into these overalls and they stayed stuck. He took a trembling breath and finally opened the door.
The house looked dangerous and dirty in a way it hadn’t before, now that he knew he was about to give birth here. There were several renovation projects going on at once, the living room wallpaper being replaced and some superficial columns half-broken down, an unmounted mirror resting at a possibly hazardous angle against the wall. Random pieces of debris and loose screws littered the floor.
Dave whimpered gently as he trudged towards the kitchen.
“Dave?”
“It’s a mess in here. Ugh, I wanted to have my babies at the hospital.” His next breath shuddered, eyes blurring with tears. “God, I should have just gone when the contractions started, I’m already a bad father…”
“Dave, best thing you can do for your babies right now is focus on finding those shears. Remember, the ambulance is on its way, okay?”
“Right,” he gasped, and wiped a hand roughly over his eyes. “Right, yeah, I’m almost there. Here’s the— oh, oh, no, no, no—“
He just managed to get his hands on the kitchen counter before the next contraction wrested control of his body. His knees swayed apart and his back arched as his pelvis lowered. He heard himself making a loud, long, “Haaaaaaa,” sound that was somehow helping him bear the pain, but nothing could keep his body from beginning to bear down. He shook his head and panted, trying so, so hard not to push. But still the baby moved lower, and the burn somehow got worse, and his voice went raw as he cried out.
“Dave!?”
“Hurts! It hurts so bad! She must have crowned,” he whimpered. “Oh, it hurts, it hurts…” he trailed into repetitious mumbling, frozen exactly where he was, feeling unable to move except to rock back and forth fruitlessly seeking relief. It felt like every bit of tissue was stretched to its limit, like a single shift would rip him open.
“Dave, you need to get the shears now!”
“Hmmmnnnnn… nnno- no, I can’t, I can’t,” he groaned. “Head’s too big, I can’t…”
“You can, Dave, you have to. Where are they?”
He managed to peel his eyelids apart, the world blurry and throbbing. For a moment, he didn’t even know where he was, or remember what he could possibly be doing other than delivering this baby. Something about… shears?
He glanced back at his tool box. The shear handles should have protruded from the outer pocket where he kept them, but he didn’t see them.
Then he took a shaky breath and smelled the spackling. It came back to him—he’d used the shears to clip off a bit of hardened spackle at the spout of the bottle.
“Right. I left them under the sink.” Knees bowed awkwardly apart, he turned and began to stagger that way. With the solid form of his child dominating his hips, and the still-massive obstacle of his belly, he didn’t trust himself to bend on his own without falling.
So, finally, he answered his body’s plea and squatted. The baby still in his womb pressed up into his diaphragm as he did, forcing a wheeze, but he managed to get there. The stretch of his overalls across his throbbing gash of a cunt only increased the agonizing pressure, and he had the dizzying thought that the firm canvas had pushed the baby back inside.
“Okay,” he panted, “almost there.” He braced an arm on the counter above his head and slowly began to lean forward. A low groan trickled out of him as the tilt of his pelvis shifted the weight inside, at once a relief and an alarm as the pressure somehow increased.
“Hoooooh god,” he groaned.
“Dave?”
“She’s coming out,” he mumbled.
“Do you have the shears?”
“Yeah, they’re right here. I just gotta— Oh. Oh, I gotta— Haa- hah- ho, ho no—”
The contraction was a force that could not be bargained with, so much pressure distilled into such a small space that suddenly nothing was left within him but a blind, instinctive need to push. He reared back to grab the counter lip with his other hand, dropped his chin to his chest, and finally, finally did what his body had been screaming at him to do: he pushed.
Everything in his upper body transformed into counter-pressure against the wrecking-ball presence in his hips, even the air in his lungs, forced low towards his abdomen. He pushed, face growing hot, heartbeat pounding in his ears, a thin, gravelly noise grinding in the back of his throat.
And he felt it, now; before, he’d been so certain each time that the scalp must have reached his lips, but now, he knew the head was the only explanation for the agony licking from his cock to his asshole. The pain eclipsed anything he’d experienced so far, devastating everything between his legs as it all bulged and deformed around his arriving baby.
The shock of his ruined pussy caught up with his breathless lungs, and suddenly he could push no more, forced to rasp in ragged, desperate gasps.
“Oh, oh, oh,” he heard himself wailing, an attempt to say oh god unrealized in the desperation of childbirth.
“—ave, Dave, what’s happening!?”
“The head!” he cried. “The head’s coming out, augh, hmmmn, god, it hurts! Hurts so bad. Haaaaah.” Trying to escape the pain, he started to rock his hips, but that only tightened the canvas of his overalls against the baby’s head—and this time, he really did feel the resistance nudge it back inside. He locked still with a yelp.
“Fuck! No, no, she’s going back in, no, no!”
“That’s okay, that’s okay, You’re doing so good, Dave, you’re almost there, you just need to get out of those overalls and then you can meet your baby. Can you see the shears?”
He whined a thin, affirmative sound.
“Okay, good, you need to get them, okay?”
The two feet between Dave and the shears might as well have been ten miles with the massive belly still hanging from him, and all of the muscles in his pelvis displaced by an entire body.
He whimpered. “Mmmokay. Okay. I can do it. I just gotta…”
Dave was, in general, a slow and methodical man. But he had never done anything more slowly and methodically than beginning to spread his feet apart now, lowering his already-too-low center of gravity. As his legs spread, the blaze between his thighs brightened and grew, and his throat produced a strange, continuously-breaking wobble he didn’t know he was capable of, the kind of noise he’d expect from someone being dragged across concrete.
“Dave?”
“M’bending.” His voice went especially thin as he bent further and the second twin was pushed deep into his lungs. “Ohhhh they’re too big. They’re too big…”
“You’ll be alright, Dave, just keep going, okay? You’re doing so great. You’re almost there.”
He dropped one of his hands from the counter overhead and slapped it on the floor of the cabinet, trying to steady himself. Pressure mounted in his lower back. He began to groan, then whimper as it grew, and grew—
“Ohhhh it hurts, it hurts, it- huuuurrrggghhh…!”
There was no choice now but to push. He went totally silent, not even breath escaping him, trembling from his scalp all the way to his knees. Between his womb-stretched abs and the violently compressed muscles of his birth canal, it was like trying to pluck an elevator cable, expecting something held tense by thousands of pounds to budge.
But his body was made to do this. He pushed, and somehow he forced his child through, and his pussy lips stretched wider around the head, and finally he reached the end of his effort with a delirious, undignified yelp as the crowning child stayed wedged in his cunt.
Henry was saying something on the phone and Dave was pretty sure he wanted to say something back, but all he could think was that he felt like he was about to tear from all sides, his cock a white-hot point of tension, his distended perineum threatening to rip right open. But, despite the strain, his body held miserably solid.
Without thinking, he reached down between his legs. It was a little easier with his belly having lost some volume, squished easily by his stretching arm.
“Oh,” he rasped. “Oh my god. Oh wow. Okay.”
The center seam of his overalls bulged out obscenely. Gently, gasping, tears welling, he cupped the fabric stretched across the distended hill of flesh that used to be his crotch, and stroked the massive wet lump protruding in the center. As it was, he was fairly sure the baby would be eased back into his canal as opposed to being harmed by the rigid canvas, but he didn’t want to take any chances.
“Okay,” he said, now a bit soggy. “Baby’s- hoooo- baby’s crowning. Head- head’s almost out. I’m gonna. Gonna cut the overalls.”
“Okay, yes, good, Dave, you’re doing amazing.”
Maybe it was the fact that he could feel his baby’s head under his fingers, or just the ecstatic relief of the end being in sight, but he suddenly noticed how much feeling was in Henry’s voice.
“Thank you,” he groaned. “Oh. Hmmm, hoh, okay. Here I go.” Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away from his baby and finally reached for the shears. They weren’t even especially far, leaving him a little embarrassed at how cloudy he’d let his head get in the pain, but it didn’t matter. He had them now.
Carefully, carefully, he eased his upper body back out of the cabinet. A high squeak tore from him as the change in angle nudged the baby forward ever so slightly, just enough to somehow strain his cunt further.
“Alright, Dave, how we doing?” Yeah, that was worry in his voice, wasn’t it? How sweet.
“M’okay,” he panted. “Here goes. Cutting now.”
It was then, taking one strap of his overalls in hand, that he realized he didn’t even need the freaking shears. The fastenings were loose now, his belly no longer the absurd blimp it had been with two amniotic sacs inside. With just one, he had plenty of slack to unhook the clasps. The overalls fell limply from his chest, though they still clung around the broadest part of his belly. His plain undershirt was transparent with sweat, showing the damp whorls of his chest hair and the dark peaks of his areolae puffing proudly atop his barely-swelling chest. True to his prediction, little spots of yellow clung to his long, enlarged nipples, his body eager to provide the baby’s first meal.
He took all this in as he caught his breath. “Okay, almost ou— Oh! Oh no- oh that’s so fast, I gotta—“ He set the scissors at his side and grabbed at the counter again, sweaty fingers slipping on the marble. At this point he really thought he was getting into a rhythm, mastering this whole pushing thing, but—
“HmmmmmmaaaAAAAAAAAGH!”
He stretched, and stretched, pussy lips humbled to ribbons of agony, a pain so potent it shot up through his guts right to his sinuses. But still he bore down, kept pushing, he could do it, for his baby, he had to—!
The head burst out. A strangled cry of relief punched from his chest, dissolving into exhausted laughter as he noticed the emerging child had tugged his overalls the rest of the way over the crest of his belly. It sloped out from under his too-small undershirt in an odd pear shape, all of the volume gone from the top, the second twin all but resting on his thighs.
Trembling, he reached down and felt the head through his freshly drenched pants.
“Dave?”
“I did it. Head’s out.” He panted. “Here, let- let me…” He shimmied his overalls down a little lower, unable to get them off his legs, but able to expose his undercarriage enough to push his briefs down. It was much easier to reach around, now, making it simple to dip his hand between his thighs and find…
“Oh, hi there,” he gasped. A sob hitched through him, his cheeks suddenly aching with the force of his smile. “Hi, sweetie, Papa’s here. I’ve got you.” He cupped her head, thinking both how incredibly small she was and how he couldn’t believe he shoved a head that big out of him. Belatedly, he remembered to feel down around her neck, a chill of relief flooding his limbs when he found no cord around the neck.
“Hooo, okay, head’s out, I think she’s all good, and- oh! Ah.” He sucked air through his teeth. “Kicking me still. Ouch. Ow.” He chuckled weakly. “Yeah, sweetie, hold on a minute, okay? Need another contraction and then you’ll have all the room you need, I promise.”
“Good, amazing job, man, that’s so incredible. You’re incredible.” Henry sounded a little breathless. “Good work.”
“Not done yet,” Dave mumbled, as the telltale windup of muscles told him the next contraction was building. “Here it comes. Heeeerrre…. Nnnnnngggh!”
With the end in sight, Dave forced strength he didn’t even know he had into bearing down, taking the strange feeling of the baby twisting inside his cunt in stride, his hand near and steady when he passed the first shoulder. His yelp of pain and the deep breath to replenish his air happened at the same time, making a very weird sound that he didn’t have time to care about in his determination. He dropped his other hand from the counter ledge and let his shoulder fall against the cabinet door as he reached between his legs, and the sliver of voice forced through with his effort rose to a roar—
And he pushed the other shoulder through. His daughter slid into his waiting hands in another gush fo fluid.
He gasped for breath, a little dizzy, and even though his body felt ruined, he didn’t really mind collapsing on his soiled overalls with his back on the hard cabinets. He drew the baby up to his chest and tugged his shirt out of the way so he could press her to his skin, nuzzled to his heartbeat and wiry chest hair, his face close enough to duck and kiss her, not particularly caring about the sort of gross cheesy white stuff smeared all over her, even though some got on his mustache.
“Hi, baby,” he gasped. “There you are. Oh wow. There you are.”
After a few insistent pats on her tiny back, she coughed and started to cry, and he nodded along, laughing. “Yeah, understandable, sweetie. I know. That was hard. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, wow,” came the voice from his phone. He’d almost forgotten there was someone listening.
He laughed. “Good lungs, right?”
“Great. Wow. Whew.” Poor guy. He probably usually didn’t have these kinds of calls, coaching a guy through childbirth.
“Thank you. Thank you so much. Don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
“Don’t mention it. I’m just glad everybody’s okay.”
Dave smiled; he couldn’t agree more.
Still, while the baby suckled at his chest, he couldn’t help but be painfully aware of her umbilical cord spilling over his still-pregnant belly, where her twin turned and kicked inside.
Then—
“Hey, uh, Hen, how far’s that ambulance?”
“Uhhh… ah. Forty minutes.”
“Okay,” he said, voice tightening. “Okay. Well. I— aaaah. Mhh. Yeah. I think her brother might- ah- he might get here before that.”
Thinking about a middle-aged trucker who thought there wouldn’t be any consequences for pressing his fat pussy to every truck stop glory hole he came across.
For months, he’s assumed his beer gut growing rounder and firmer is a natural consequence of his fast food diet. Sure, the tight, oblong shape is a bit extreme, but it’s always looked bigger than it is beneath his surgically flat chest. And the aches and pains in his back and hips? Just inevitable results of years on the job.
Then he starts having abdominal cramps so bad that he barely makes it to the next truck stop to pull his rig over. As soon as he parks, he crawls out of the driver’s seat and curls into the fetal position on the thin mattress wedged in the back of the cab.
He manages a few hours of fitful sleep before waking drenched in cold sweat. Clutching his massive, rock-hard gut, he groans and grunts through an agony that can only be his bowels splitting apart. Just when he thinks it can’t get any worse, the pressure in his pelvis becomes unbearable and the need to expel something massive overtakes him. With no thought in his head but relief, he fumbles his sweats and boxers down to his knees and begins to push.
A burst of fluid between his legs makes him think he must have wet himself, but he keeps pushing, not even caring if he ruins his mattress, as long as it ends the pain.
His low hums of effort spike with a scream as he starts to burn down there. He makes no progress despite desperate attempts to force out whatever’s stretching him, and his voice pitches into panicked wheezing as he realizes it’s stuck there, feeling like it’s tearing him open.
Hand trembling, he reaches back. He finds his asshole swollen and puckered, but tightly shut. Cold dread prickles over his scalp. If it’s not in his ass, that means it’s in his pussy. But that can’t be. Because that would mean…
With his breath shuddering in the top of his throat, he brushes his fingertips down his perineum, feeling it bulge further and further until it meets the stretched-raw edge of his cunt. He whines through his teeth.
“No, no, no way, no, nonono…” he whimpers, but his protests change nothing as he feels lower and finds something bulbous and slimy forcing his pussy into a broad teardrop shape.
“Fuck, no, I can’t, no, no—“ Panic wets his eyes. He can’t have a baby, for fuck’s sake, he doesn’t want this, he’s not ready to be a daddy, he can’t— “AUGH!”
The next contraction comes—because that’s what they’ve been all along, how could he be so stupid?—and he roars behind his teeth as he fights the urge to push. But it’s too late. He feels his cunt lips spread, the baby’s head inching forward until it domes out beneath his fingers. Then the contraction ends, and his muscles go limp, and the head slips back in, his poor cunt lips trying and failing to shut around it.
And, fuck, that’s worse! He groans and starts to sob, letting out a choked, delirious laugh as the spasming of his weeping makes the baby’s scalp bob against his entrance, little spikes of stabbing pain.
Desperate for releif, he pulls one leg up and out of his bottoms, groaning as this makes more room in his pelvis. It also makes the bastard in his birth canal bulge forward, a promise behind his pussy lips.
When the next contraction comes, he accepts that he’s going to be a daddy whether he likes it or not, pulls his leg up as far as he can, and pushes. With silent, trembling effort and a reddening face, his overwrought abs and stretched cunt bear down and his life-ruining surprise crowns, reducing his pussy lips to strips of fire and tearing a scream through his teeth.
Then the contraction ends, and the baby sinks back in.
“NO!!!” he screams, clawing at his birth-soiled sheets. “No, no, god, please, no, NO!!”
His chest hitches, and he lies there panicking, envisioning hours of excruciating pain as the head stretches him over and over, never fully leaving. He’s dizzy and panting when the next contraction hits, and barley has the presence of mind to try to push. But he doesn’t have enough control, and the pathetic spasming clenches of his muscles only torment his ruined entrance as the head inches out and back in.
Whining, he decides something has to change. He doesn’t know any other way to get up, so he steels himself and rolls over onto his laboring gut. He screams behind pinched-shut lips, and it takes him several shaking attempts to get his limbs underneath him and lift himself onto his hands and knees. There’s barely any relief to be found in the position, but every little bit helps, and he groans and whimpers as he rocks back and forth, trying to find the angle that spreads his hips the widest.
“Oh, fuck, okay—hnng!” The next contraction wrings through him, and he leans back, every muscle reduced to trembling as he bears down with all his might. A high scream ekes through his teeth as he pushes the head to a crown again, Yes, yes, please, echoing in his head— then he stops contracting, and the baby stops moving.
“AUGH! NNNGHGH— NNNOOOOO!” he roars, his voice scraping his throat. He tries to push again, pushes until his face burns and he goes dizzy, but nothing happens before he has to give up and wheeze for air. Pathetic whines and whimpers punch out of him with every gasping breath as he realizes that he’s stuck crowning until the next contraction comes to save him.
Morbid, desperate curiosity, he reaches back to feel. He chokes out a formless scream as the gentlest brush of his fingertips only stokes the agony of his tormented pussy lips, if they can even be called that anymore, completely taut around the head. It’s huge, magnitudes larger than anything he’s ever taken, a perfect circle displacing his pelvic bones and his tdick and his asshole, reshaping his means of pleasure into nothing but a tortured birthing hole.
Finally, finally, he contracts. He slaps his hand down on the mattress and braces himself and pushes, pushes so hard that even his urge to scream is reconstituted into birthing energy, his chin to his chest and his thighs trembling and his asshole bulging as the head somehow stretches him even wider. He keeps expecting it to pop out, but it only burns him more, and more, and more— and the contraction ends.
He screams, so desperate that his own voice frightens him, and falls down to his elbows, his pried-open pussy angled high in the air. How could it be so big? Fuck, fuck, he’s never gonna spread his legs for anyone again, not that anyone will want his pussy once it’s left uselessly gaping by this massive bastard. He pants and swears and sobs. Fluids tickle down the insides of his thighs, probably blood as his poor cunt perpetually crowns this massive head.
The next one comes, and he’s so delirious with pain and exhaustion that he pushes just like that, elbows on the mattress and cunt in the air, the infant inside him entirely unmoving as he tries to force it out almost vertically. It’s only when his feels the bulk inching deeper into his birth canal and the burn reducing around the crown that he realizes his mistake.
“No, no, no, fuck, fuck, no!!” he shrieks, shoving himself up onto his hands, but it’s too late. His body heaves as it falls into a resting period, and desperately he reaches back to feel how much progress he lost. The perfect circle of his pussy has returned to that teardrop curve, the head barely engaged between his lips. “Fuuuuuuck,” he whines, and his continuous sniveling dissolves into sobs.
He spends the minutes waiting for the next contraction weeping pathetically, feeling wretched and stupid and sorry for himself. But when the next one comes, he grits his teeth and reaches up for the back of the driver’s seat. He wrenches himself upright as he can, knees spread, just as the contraction reaches full intensity, and starts to push. Then his eyes snap wide.
“Oh— NO—!!” There’s hardly time to register his mistake, and none to fix it. He can only screech at the top of his lungs as gravity shoots the head back into a full crown, a stab of agony that makes him sure his pussy has ripped open. But there’s still resistance, so maybe not— he pulls in a few deep breaths, laced with uncontrolled, rising and dropping vocalizations, then drops his head and keeps pushing with everything he has left.
The world goes dark and quiet, the rush of his blood the only sound left in his head. Somehow his cunt stretches even further, and the pain eclipses anything he thought possible, and for a moment he longs for the release of death—
Then a pop, a burst of hot fluid down his legs. He pulls in scratchy, heaving gasps, clinging to the headrest as he tries not to fall over. Fuck, he was really close to passing out. But he’s awake, and the fire has given way to the strange sensation of something heavy and round between his legs.
Trembling, he reaches back to feel.
“Oh,” he sobs. “Oh, holy fuck.”
He’s giving birth. He’s having a baby. Its shoulders still press like an anvil behind his cunt, but the head is out, it’s there, half an hour ago he had no idea he was even pregnant and now he’s cupping some stranger’s baby between his legs.
“Oh my god, oh my god,” he mumbles. He allows his head to go limp and just lets his body hang there, belly still heavy on his thighs, offspring still wedged in his vagina. He somehow has the presence of mind to check for a cord around the neck. The relief when he finds none is less for the child’s safety and more for being spared another complication. He closes his eyes and tries to use the moment of rest for all it’s worth.
The reprieve isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. He groans as he feels the baby twisting inside of him, the shoulders pressing against his entrance but not yet breaching it. He grimaces through the strange sensation, panting as he dreads passing the rest of the body.
“Oh, fuck, not yet, no,” he whimpers, but there’s nothing to be done with the next contraction other than to push. He hears himself making an animal sort of sound, a deep lowing, once again sure he’s going to tear. Then he feels the baby lurch forward against his hand, and groans with pain and relief as his fingers find the shape of a shoulder bulging out of him. The more malleable shape keeps it from being as bad as the head, though he still whimpers in dismay when the contraction ends with just the one shoulder out.
“Okay, almost, almost there,” he pants. “Just gotta get it out, gotta get it out of me…”
Ready for this to be over, he tightens his grip on the head rest and draws one trembling leg forward, then the other, to perch his laboring body in a deep squat. He winces as the weight inside tries to shift forward. “Almost,” he mumbles. “Soon…”
And it is soon. He contracts, and pushes, and pushes—
And with a final wail, he pops the baby’s other shoulder free, one last twist of pain before it slips out of him in a flood of liquid. He more or less catches it, though the mattress helps.
“Holy shit,” he whispers. “Holy fuck.”
He doesn’t really have his right mind about him anymore. Disorientation and exhaustion and a half-formed concern for the infant he just expelled all come together, and somehow he finds himself limping into the nearby truck stop diner wearing nothing but his boots and shirt, disgusting birthing blanket wrapped around the newborn to keep it warm.
The other patrons stare at this gruff, bearded man well into middle age, and the umbilical cord dangling between his pussy and the squalling newborn in his arms, undeniable proof to anyone who looks that he just labored out a baby.
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