421.1. A request: The Queen of a nation is about to give birth to the next heir to the throne. Naturally such an event can’t take place in her private chambers, instead she must give birth in a public space, for the court and commoners to see. Bonus points if she has to be restrained in some way.
A Crown for a Queen
A Valiantremnant original
Pre-Story notes: Oh did this prompt ever inspire me. I initially planned on doing a fun little short story, but as I went, I wound up expanding and expanding (lol) until I got to where the story is now. I might do more with this world, but who knows. Now, quick note, due to the nature of this story, it's not very dialogue heavy. I tried to break it up as best as I could, but if I put a ton of dialogue in it, the main character would mostly be talking to herself, and given the setup here, (some dehydration) that isn't really a good idea.
In Konur, tradition insisted on a public birth of every royal child. Every. One. It had started over one thousand years ago when a changeling had sought to overthrow the royal line by replacing a newborn heir. Or by supplanting the queen. The exact reasons have been lost to history. But to prevent such a thing from happening with his children, King Okdar had his wife, Queen Anya, give birth where all could see, and all could vow that the child was indeed born to them. The method passed on to their children, and their children. A proof becoming tradition, the site of Queen Anya's labors becoming a great amphitheater. And from then on, every queen, and every princess in line to become queen would give birth in the same place, bound and visible for all. For all to see that the child born was indeed born of the queen, and for all to see the strength of their queens, to see that they had the strength to be the shield of the people of Konur. When Queen Valaina's water had broken that morning, word had immediately gone out, alerting the nobles and visiting dignitaries who had travelled weeks ago for the royal birth. Valaina had married into the royal family, and while she knew of the birthing ritual, she had never seen it before, much less thought that she would be given the honor of going through it herself. The noble houses had similar traditions, but those were usually attended by close friends and family only, nothing like the affair of a royal birth. Once the word had gone out, the royal midwife had arrived, examining Valaina and letting her know that she was only about halfway dilated, and that there would be plenty of time to arrive at the amphitheater. Valaina knew that she should have gone to see it before today, but since the tragic death of her husband, King Helbrun, she had been too busy tending the affairs of state. But now as she entered the vaulted Queen's Entrance of the amphitheater, she wished she had visited at least once. She passed carved statues, each one of a woman. As she had contractions passing them, she paid them little mind, but the odd detail struck out at her as she passed. Some were carved in obsidian, most were done in marble. Some glittered with gemstones, others were plain. Some had objects in their hands, others were empty handed. "Oh gods! Ow!" She groaned, stopping by one of the statues and gripping the edge of the alcove that held it. The contraction that held her now was fierce and made her legs shake with the effort of her womb. "Come Valaina," Marne, Helbrun's aunt called, "You can't well give birth in here, can you?"
Marne was a stuff sort of woman, with very strict ideas of propriety. Ever since the deaths of Helbrun, and both of his parents, she had been appointed by the court to be Valaina's guide into the politics and traditions of the royal family. Politics that she thought she knew from her own family's proximity to the crown, but much of it was new and strange to her. Valaina's own family, the Karroks, had been mired in political scandal shortly after her own wedding to Helbrun, and since his death, Valaina could tell that she was something of a controversial figure. Commoners and nobility alike were torn on whether to side with her or against her. A civil war seemed unlikely, but political difficulty was the norm for her these days. "If... I...GAH! Have to..." Valaina panted. "Tsk tsk," None of that, come on," Marne said, coming to her side and helping her upright, making Valaina gasp in pain as she straightened. She leaned heavily on Marne was they walked to a small chamber at the end of a series of empty alcoves that awaited statues. "Now, that's fine in here, but once you go out there, you'll have to walk alone." "Alone? What?" Marne shook her head, "I suppose with everything else going on, you haven't managed to learn about this ritual, have you?" Valaina shook her head and Marne explained. "You are carrying the heir apparent to the throne, and the birth must be witnessed. You'll be stripped in here and then you'll ascend the plinth and give birth for all to see."
Giving birth for others to see wasn't unusual. She could remember the births of a few family friends, but those affairs had allowed the mothers to wear at the very least a shift to cover themselves. "What do you mean, 'stripped'?" Valaina asked, her voice rising an octave both in fear and in pain, "OW...." "Exactly what it sounds like," Marne said, positioning Valaina in front of the doors, "Now let me help you." Valaina sobbed quietly as Marne removed her robes until she was clad only in her light shift. Marne came around front and wiped the tears out of her eyes. "Now, listen. What I can tell you while we have time is this. As queen, you are the shield of the people, and they must see you endure. You can scream, you can roar, you can cry, but don't beg. Don't ask to be released until you've given birth." "What- released?" "And- you don't know?" Before Valaina could respond, she doubled over with another powerful contraction. They were practically back to back now, and she had almost no time to reset between them. A serving girl entered through a hidden door and murmured something to Marne, who nodded in return and moved to stand behind Valaina. "We're out of time. They're ready for you. Remember, if you are to remain queen after this is over, you must be the shield of the people. Do not beg." Marne lifted the shift off of Valaina, who made one pathetic attempt to hold onto it before letting it go. Marne looked her in the eye one last time. "When I've left, knock twice on the door and walk to the center of the amphitheater. They'll guide you from there." And with that, the only one left in the chamber was Valaina, scared, contracting and in pain. She knocked twice on the door after the contraction was gone, and the double doors swung outward, nearly blinding her with the sudden light.
When she could see again, the first thing she could see was a ramp leading up from the chamber she was in. As she hobbled up the ramp, having to stop for a moment to let a slightly more powerful contraction pass, she could hear what sounded like thousands of voices. With her heart in her throat, Valaina reached the top of the ramp to see the massive amphitheater filled to capacity. It was late summer, and the bright sun beat down into the stone arena with an almost angry heat. Ahead of her, Valaina could see a raised object. A marble podium of sorts. It might have once been pure white, but age and the elements had stained it. As she grew closer to it, almost drawn in by morbid curiosity, Valaina could tell that a long, streaking stain down the front had nothing to do with the weather marring it. "... Queen Valaina of house Dar!" Valaina couldn't tell what the beginning of the announcement was, but the crowd erupted into a deafening array of both cheering and jeering. Her mostly steady waddling hitched as she had another contraction, and she gasped in pain as she struggled to keep moving forward. She held one arm across her chest, hiding her bare breasts from the eyes of the crowd, the other wrapped around her belly, trying to hide her vagina, knowing now why a midwife had attended to her, waxing her clean before arriving at the amphitheater. The same midwife stood at the base of the stone monolith, which had grown startlingly near. Valaina stopped and the midwife leaned in. "How close are your contractions now?" "They barely give me time to breathe between them," Valaina admitted. The midwife nodded and gestured to a pair of ceremonial guards. They both took one of her arms and guided her to the stone's flat top. Once there, they pushed her down firmly, though not roughly. The action made her heart beat so quickly, it seemed almost painful. "Wait, what are-AUGH!"
As she broke off to deal with the contraction, the guards attached sturdy leather cuffs to her ankles, keeping them close together. Then they pushed her thighs back until the angle was almost painful, attaching thick straps to them as well, pinning her legs fast in place. Then a strap was fixed around her ribs, above her belly but below her breasts, not too tight to breathe in, but too tight to move more than an inch or so. Then, to top it all off, her wrists were strapped above her head. "Grab these," One of the guards said, guiding her hands to wooden handles fixed into the straps. Valaina didn't understand at first, but as soon as the guards stepped away, no longer supporting any of her weight, she understood. The stone was flat, but not level. It wasn't enough of a slope to be a slide, but without support, she would have been hard pressed to remain in place. As it was, the straps began to dig painfully into her chest and thighs until she flexed her arms, supporting her weight by the hand holds provided. As she struggled to find a comfortable place on the stone, she could feel slight wear in it's surface. Grooves dug into the surface, too slight to be see from a distance, but when touching it? She could feel where someone else's, another woman's shoulders had been bound here, where her feet had been braced, where her hips had sat. She had heard about parts of this birthing ritual. but until now, it hadn't seemed real.
As she struggled to move more than an inch, the midwife ascended and stood before her. "My queen. I will perform your last check." Before Valaina could respond to her words, she flinched and groaned as the old woman's hand deftly entered her birth canal. She tried to close her legs against the straps, her hips flexing and quivering as they fought against the unyielding bonds as the midwife reached her cervix and traced it. Nodding, she pulled her hand out and turned to the speaker, descending from the platform. The speaker nodded and turned to the audience of nobles and commoners alike. "The queen is now five centimeters dilated!" The crowd erupted in both cheers and groans. Valaina wondered what they were thinking. Were the cheers because she was well and truly in labor? Were the groans because she had so far left to go? She didn't know, and any thought of figuring it out vanished as she had another contraction. "AUGH! OW OW OWowowowowowOWWWWWWWWW!" Her head, the only free part of her body, thrashed, snapping from side to side, her hair fanning out and covering her face somewhat. She wanted to curl around her belly, to hold it with her hands, despite how little she knew it would do. But even though she knew it was pointless, her arms pulled against the bindings, straining to caress her contracting belly. She groaned and gasped in pain as a new sensation struck her. Not the pressure she knew was to come, but a deep stabbing ache in her pelvis, as if the stone itself were pressing against her. When the contraction was done, she puffed and blew her hair out of her face. The sun, still beating down made being trapped under a tent of her own hair stifling.
As Valaina laid back on the stone, her eyes wandered the crowd. The back, the highest seats in the amphitheater were filled with people who she took to be commoners, though at the distance they were at, it made it hard to tell. Closer in, she could see merchants knights. People of wealth and status. But closer still, in the valley between her legs she could see nobles. Lords and ladies alike, along with their honored guests. Valaina's eyes darted, with focus at first, then worry, then frenzied panic. Her mother. Her father. Where were they? House Karrok wasn't a small house, and given their seats at court, they should have been near the front. but right at the front was the prime minister, a man who Valaina despised. Even though she knew it was someone else, she couldn't help but feel that even if he hadn't been the one to orchestrate the deaths of her husband and the former king and queen, that he still stood to benefit. The only other potential heir to the throne was only a child, and if she had also died that day, he would now be ruling Konur. Her stomach roiled in discomfort from something other than a contraction. She knew she couldn't trust the man, even if he hadn't done anything wrong. Except... except that her parents should have been there. "Where... are... they?" Valaina whispered, making eye contact with the man before she broke into another full throated scream as another contraction wracked her body, "HUUUUUAAAAAAAAAGH!" The prime minister only tilted his head, his eyes flicking to a point behind her, and Valaina knew. He had ensured that her parents were sat behind her, and far away from the center. Nowhere they could be of even minimal comfort to her.
As the day drew on, comfort became a thing of the distant past. The sun rose, and with it, the temperature. What had started out as a warm morning was quickly becoming a hot midsummer day. "Oh gods..." Valaina said, her tongue feeling thick and dry in her mouth as she lolled her head to the side, seeking a tiny bit of respite from the blazing sun. If she looked down at herself, she could only see her breasts, the top of her belly and the tops of her thighs, but what she could see of herself was that her skin was turning red under the sun. She had spent most of her life sheltered, hiding her fair skin from the sun's rays, but she remembered one day as a younger woman, when her family had gone to the king's summer palace with him and she had spent too long in the sun, and what her skin had felt like then. It felt the same now, tight, hot and far too dry. Her lips cracked as she grimaced, bracing herself as best as she could for the next contraction. "AAAAUUUUUGH! OH GODS! OWWWWW!" She could see the crowd reacting to her as she writhed the few fractions of an inch that she could, some cheering as she screamed, others looking on coldly. She shifted uncomfortably, the strap around her chest digging painfully into the top of her belly. Valaina just could not find a remotely comfortable position, her spine pressed hard against the marble plinth, her hips aching from being pulled back so far, and her hands were growing numb from being suspended above her head for so long. But the worst part was the pressure that would surge every time she had a contraction. It seemed like every time she had one, and she would try to arch her back against it, it was trying to press her flat against the plinth, taking her breath with a sudden, savage strength. And it made her want to push.
She knew that it wasn't time yet. She'd never learned from a midwife properly, but she had been curious and helped when her aunt had given birth when she was nine, and remembered a few lessons. "Now, she will feel pressure and like she wants to push for quite some time, but it will pass with each contraction," The midwife had said, "That will usually mean that she isn't open enough for the baby to come." "But if it's hurting her, shouldn't she push it out?" "Oh dear, no. If she pushes too soon, it will hurt her even more, and maybe even hurt the baby. She must wait until all that pressure stays, even between the pains." On the plinth, Valaina could feel the pressure from each contraction fading away between them, and she knew it wasn't time. She squinted her eyes and looked up at the sun. It must be close to noon now. Based on the bells that had tolled just before she entered the amphitheater, she had been strapped down to the stone for nearly six hours now. What did the midwife say she was dilated? Five centimeters? How dilated was she now? "Am-" Valaina began before breaking off into a fit of dry coughing, "Am I close?" "We cannot touch you until the baby is out," The midwife said from the base of the podium, "But I would say it isn't long to go."
An hour passed. And another. And another. Valaina's skin was an angry red and her mouth was parched. The contractions were starting to slow down, and she could barely keep her eyes open anymore. "Huuuuuuuuuunnnnngggg," She groaned, the full throated screams of agony now too much effort to give voice to anymore. The crowd's mood had shifted too. Mostly everyone who was still present was talking to each other, the dull roar of conversation from around the amphitheater competing with the thudding of her heartbeat in her ears. If she had known how thirsty she would have gotten, she would have spent hours doing nothing but drinking water leading up to the ritual. "Gods, so thirsty," She panted, her tongue feeling sandy as it passed over her teeth, trying to sooth her cracked lips. Her lips were sunburned too, and moving her moth more than it took to pant caused tearing sensations that made her want to cry. She knew that if there was enough water in her body, she might have cried, not just from the sheer misery of what she was going through, but what she knew was to come. If the lips on her mouth felt this bad now with the dryness and sunburn, what would her other lips feel like when she was pushing?
The sun was starting to set when Valaina heard it. Something that always had soothed her, not matter how fiercely they would rage. And she opened her eyes to see if she had imagined the sound, or if it was real. She smiled, her lips cracking as she saw it. There it was, the billowing clouds that had produced the quiet peal of thunder in the distance. At least it would mean that she would be taken down from the plinth. While she loved a thunderstorm, she knew it was too dangerous to be out in one. But as it grew closer and the air grew mercifully cooler, no one moved to remove her restraints. What she did see were amphitheater attendants running around the stands, pulling on ropes and setting posts, erecting awnings and canvas shades to protect everyone who was watching. And she knew. She knew that the only way to get off of the plinth would be to give birth. Another clap of thunder sounded, louder this time, and Valaina didn't find any comfort in it.
The rain began about an hour after the first clap of thunder, fat drops that came in scattered bursts. Despite the stinging pains they caused Valaina's burned skin, she found relief in the chill they brought to her overheated body. And in the drops she opened her mouth to catch. She panted with her mouth open now, feeling drops fall and run into the corners of her mouth, swallowing the cool, crisp rain as it filled her mouth over and over again. She could feel water sloshing in her stomach, and groaned as her contractions, which began speeding back up as she drank, tightened her newly full belly. Now as she looked down at herself, her belly was still an angry red, but now it glistened with a wet sheen as water ran down the taut surface as it heaved and quivered with contractions. Contractions that brought the pressure back again and again, with it fading less and less each time.
"AAAAAAUUUUGH!" She screamed as another contraction clawed at her belly. She didn't know if anyone heard, as a massive peal of thunder echoed across the arena as she screamed. She wanted to move. She felt the pressure digging into her back, right where it met her pelvis, and knew that if she could just get up, even for a moment, she would give birth in minutes. Valaina wanted to ask. She was so close to asking to be let up, but she knew that as soon as she did, the crown was forfeit. Marne told her not to beg, and she wouldn't. She had to be strong. But no matter how strong she was, the contractions seemed to be stronger. Once she had been able to drink the rainwater that now ran into her eyes, and mouth when she didn't want it to, her contractions had gotten closer together than they had ever been. But that wasn't the worst of it. As the rain ran down her back, the smooth worn surface of the plinth had become so slick, she was struggling to stay in place. In the morning, her skin had stuck to it, her own weight being enough to hold her steady, but with the rain, she would slide down, the straps biting into her thighs, chest and wrists being the only things keeping her there. Her wrists cramped with how hard she held onto the handles on the wrist cuffs, but letting them go was a nightmare. She would only about an inch, but it was far enough that trying to find the handles was a nearly impossible task. And it only took a single contraction to learn that loosing her only anchor point, her only control over any of the situation was not something she could endure.
So she clung to the wooden dowels, despite the blisters forming on her hands, despite the contractions that made her want to release them and clutch at her belly, something that she couldn't do. "NooooooUUUUAAAAAAARRRRGH!" She screamed as another contraction tried to rip her apart and crush her all at once. The pressure kept vanishing, not staying like it was supposed to. She wanted to give in, to push with it, but she couldn't make herself. She couldn't force herself to push when a part of her knew it was too soon. It would hurt her. It would hurt the baby. So she panted, wanting desperately to writhe, and tried to lift her hips off of the stone, even a fraction of an inch. The strain onher muscles was making every part of her shake with effort and exhaustion, so she released the attempt, feeling her body slam the mere half inch back into place, jolting her and making her cry out again. But even that couldn't stop her from straining again and again against the restraints, trying to give herself a little bit more room. Just a little bit more...
She didn't know how many times, though how many contractions she strained and arched her body, doing everything she could from mantras to panting, from visualizing to just sheer force of will, everything she could think of doing to stop herself from pushing. But she was loosing. More than once, she caught herself giving in, tiny little pushes that made her belly swell and rise with the effort. She could barely hear anything over the patter of rain, but she could faintly hear excited murmuring in the prominent seating close to the plinth. Nobles and courtiers realizing how close she was to giving birth. If they only knew that she wasn't ready yet. "Make it stop," She begged, looking up at the sky, "Gods, make the pressure stop or let it come out!" There wasn't so much as a clap of thunder in response, only another brutal contraction that made her arch her body again. "AAAAAAAUUUUUGH!"
Eventually, she could hold back no longer. She didn't care that the pressure wasn't remaining, and some part of her didn't care how badly it could hurt her or the baby, her body had gone through enough. She had to push. When the next contraction came, she didn't arch away from it, she curled forward the tiny amount she was able to, and bore down. "HUUUUUNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGAAAAAAARRRRGH!" She bellowed out, the sound being swallowed by both the thunder of the storm and the thunder of the crowd as they all realized at once that she was fully pushing now. And she noticed something else too. Instead of fading away again, the pressure seemed to grow more intense, dropping below the spike of agony in her back and dropping between her hips, making her feel like she was sitting on a saddle. She squirmed, her body slipping on the wet marble as she tried to make the sensation more bearable, and whimpering in frustration as she found she couldn't. But the pressure wasn't fading anymore. Now she could push. She could push! "HuuuuUUUUNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAHHHH!" She screamed as she pushed with the next contraction. Her effort cut off abruptly as a sharp sting made her flinch. It had felt like a pebble had been hurled at her left breast with great speed. She looked and didn't see anything except for a small welt that grew red, even against the burn from the sun. Then she felt another sting, this one on her belly. And another on her arm. It wasn't until one hit her head that she realized. Hailstones. Small ones, only about the size of peas. More than enough to be unbearable.
"OWWWWWWWwwowowowowowowowWOWWWWWWWW HUUUAAAAAAAAGH! OH GODS!" She screamed as she pushed. The hail didn't show any signs of stopping, but at least the stones weren't growing larger as they sometimes did. She had partially expected to be released once the hail had started, but as with the rain, she was left exposed to the elements, rain and hail descending while thunder ripped the sky apart. Much like how the head in her was descending, contractions ripping her apart. One had hit quite near her eye, and she kept both of them shut now, her eyelids turning red with each bolt of lightning that shredded the sky, thunder bellowing in their wake. Between contraction, she shuddered with cold and pain as thousands of tine hailstone pelted her body. Shen she dared to open her eyes to squint at herself, she was covered in tiny welts that ranged from red to purple where she could see, her sunburned skin feeling like it was on fire, and still she pushed. She knew that as soon as the baby was out, she would be taken down, and ushered inside and away from the onslaught. bracing herself, she panted once, twice, and got ready to push once again. "HUUUU-AAAAAAAH!"
Once she was pushing, she thought it wouldn't take long for the baby to come out, but it seemed to crawl along at a leisurely pace down, every tiny movement sending zings of pain through her birth canal as it stretched around the baby. But those were nothing in comparison to the stretching she had feared. The head of the baby eventually made it down far enough that she could feel her lips parting around it. And as she feared, the sunburn that had seared every inch of her exposed to the sun felt a hundred times worse as the burned skin of her vagina began to stretch and spread around the head. It was agony, the legendary ring of fire taking on a whole new meaning as Valaina sobbed through the pain, trying to push hard enough to get the head out. But every time she stopped while waiting for the next contraction, the head began moving back in, hiding away from the chaos and noise of the world. "The... the head! Hail...' She panted, and the midwife called up, making her voice heard over the sounds of the storm. "When the head is out, I will shield it from the hail. Just get the baby out to us." Valaina nodded, her eyes still squeezed shut and she braced herself for another push, panting as she felt the contraction building. "OooooooOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAGH-"
Her efforts cut off and her head fell back as a shock of pain exploded in her calf. Her eyes snapped open and she screamed, her thigh spasming and she writhed, feeling the white hot feeling cut through her concentration. Over her own screaming, she was dimly aware of screams in the crowd, and she knew something was wrong. Time seemed to slow down as she watched a projectile dart across her belly, the head scoring a thin line over her as a crossbow bolt pinged off of the marble, leaving a small chip in the surface and bouncing off, missing her by millimeters. "SEIZE THEM!" A voice commanded, and Valaina tried to turn to look, seeing one of the assailants, crossbow in hand being cut down by men with swords, his weapon clattering the ground, along with several bolts. She heard the snapping twang of another crossbow, and heard someone shout in pain before another scream and clatter told her that another had just been cut down as well. She strained her neck, trying to look down, but the hail bouncing down on her and something new told her what she already suspected. A crossbow bolt as embedded in her calf, the hailstones hitting the shaft with the same speed as the rest of her body, making small shocks of pain radiate up her leg. All of this came to her and faded in a few heartbeats as the interrupted pushing effort seemed to aggravate the contraction, which redoubled it's efforts with savage force. Valaina rallied herself and pushed again, screaming so loudly her throat began to hurt. She had to finish now, there were assassins! She had to get the baby out so she could leave! "AAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH! COME ONNNNN!" She screamed, pushing so hard her head began to quiver with effort.
And with a sudden pop, Valaina let her head drop back with a sharp clack against the plinth as she felt he pressure snap back as the head came fully out, and she laid there panting as the crowd cheered wildly. She opened her eyes and looked down to see the midwife moving quickly, holding her hands out over where she assumed the head was. her belly was still too large to see anything below it, so Valaina had to hope she was protecting the head from the weather. The contraction didn't fully let up, easing for a moment, then pulsing back stronger than ever as Valaina pushed again, and felt the baby rippling and squirming as it was pushed out of her belly and into the world.
She was expecting cheering at the completion of the birth, but she still started at the sheer intensity of the crowd's expression of joy. She also didn't care bast the reflexive startle. As she heard the baby cry, she was completely taken in by the sweetness of the sound, the only other sound that mattered being the jingling of keys and chains as the straps were undone. "Oh fuck!" she yelped as she nearly slipped off and hit the ground, but the ceremonial guards caught her as she slipped, and guided her to her feet, the midwife handing her the baby, a girl. She wanted to melt, to just sink down with her baby, but the midwife held her upright. "The ritual is not complete yet. You must walk." Valaina felt her eyes go wide, shivering and barely able to stand, "Walk?" "You must exit as you entered, and then you can rest." Before Valaina could respond, she jerked and screamed in pain once again, her daughter flinching and crying at her expression of pain as the crossbow bolt was pulled from her leg. Valaina turned and looked at the path to the ramp, surprised to see it lit by torches, and dimly wondered what time it was. The path looked longer now than it had that morning. But she had to. For her daughter. For the kingdom. She braced herself, and straightened as much as she could, feeling the umbilical cord pulling at her lips as she did, and found she couldn't get past a half upright hunch. Each step was an eternity, her legs shaking so badly, she was surprised they held her weight, but eventually, she found herself at the top of the ramp and descending to the doors that had been opened once again. It was only a dozen more steps before she was out of the hail and inside the stone vaults of the amphitheater. Once the doors were closed, she felt her legs give out, and she was caught before she hit the floor.
She was bustled into what was called the After Chamber, a large space with a massive soft bed, a warm fire and numerous attendants who helped her deliver the afterbirth and dispose of it. Then, while the baby was being looked over, more attendants began lathering Valaina's body in a thick fluid squeezed from plants into her skin. Their efforts burned and stung, but afterwards, everywhere they rubbed began to feel soothed and relaxed once again. "Aloe," One of them explained, "It will help with the sun burn." Valaina didn't have the energy to reply, even to thank them, she just nodded tiredly, her vision fading in and out. "By what name are you calling your daughter?" The midwife asked as she examined the baby, and Valaina felt her eyes snap open. She hadn't really thought of one, but a name came to her now. Not her mother's name. As much as she loved her mother, she had told her nothing of the rigors of birth. She had no sisters. No aunts who's names she liked. But there was a name, the name of the midwife who Valaina had sit with as her aunt Kalunda had labored, and knew. "Her name is Ainara."
One Year Later
It had taken Valaina nearly two weeks before she was strong enough to leave the After Chamber. She quickly found that it had been built with that kind of time in mind, being fully stocked with supplies and materials to allow such a long recovery. When she did finally walk out of the vaulted entrance, she found a newfound respect waiting for her. Few queens had given birth in such a storm, and none had ever done so with a crossbow bolt in their leg. The bolt in question, along with the one that had narrowly missed her had been presented by the prime minister to her as a gift. It came with a sincere apology for regulating her parents to such distant seats in the arena. And while Valaina was still unable to forgive him for that, she took the bolts in the spirit they were intended, keeping them as a relic in the archive.
But the day Ainara turned one, she was standing in the square in front of the amphitheater, looking up at a shrouded statue. She didn't know who had commissioned it, but she felt it was Marne. With little ceremony beyond a short speech about the statue's commissioning, the veil was removed. Valaina gasped as she looked at it. She was depicted as a powerful figure, one hand held protectively over her belly, her other outstretched with a crossbow bolt held in her open palm. The statue's hair, her hair, as bound and pinned in place with the other crossbow bolt, and a lightning bolt crossing it. but what caught her breath were the hundreds of small gems dotting her form, and she knew that these represented the hailstone that pelted her through her birth, She felt a tear come to her eye as she looked at it, feeling the phantom pains of both the hail and the crossbow bolt sting her as the crowd applauded and cheered the statue commemorating their queen.
I am once again back with another continuation of this story, when I really thought I was done with it. But the brain writes what the brain wants I suppose. Sorry this is incredibly long, but I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. (PS: If there's interest, I might write more from one of the other brother's POV)
As always, please enjoy! Written by @pregnancyismykink :)
(Part 1) (Prequel) (Sequel)
**
College isn’t easy. Which isn’t really a surprising realization, but you just thought it would be more…fun? The only thing keeping you entertained now though is watching your neighbor come back home in the afternoons.
He’s so tall, his shoulders broader than your entire body, and the gray sweatpants he frequently wears make you weak in the knees. You can hardly see his full form through the peephole of your apartment door, and honestly, you’d give anything for him to wrap those massive hands around your waist just once.
The only thing you’ve never seen though is his face. He always wears a hoodie, pulled up over his head, keeping his face hidden from your view. It’s frustrating, every single time. But you know one day you’ll get to see it. You will make sure of it.
He sticks to a schedule so it makes it easy to predict his moves. Creepy, yes. But you blame it on the insanity of college life.
It’s been a few months and you have yet to see his face, going so far as to leave your apartment just as he gets home, trying your damnedest to catch a glimpse, but to no avail.
You almost give up, disappointed and frustrated, but then one night there’s a thud next door, loud and heavy and you sit up fast. Did he just pass out?
Without even thinking about it, you scramble out of bed and out of your apartment, wearing nothing but your sheer nightgown. You bang your fist on the door, calling out for him, but there’s no reply.
Heart racing, stomach twisting into knots, you debate calling the police. They could break the door down and hopefully save the person on the other side. Or maybe they would be too late. You bang on the door again, yanking at the door handle but it’s locked. Panic starts to set in and you are 2 steps back to your own apartment when the click of the lock opening sounds, the door creaking open.
Surprised relief floods through you and you move back to the door, finding a man…well, a husk of one. He looks awfully sick. He’s pale, sweaty, his eyes unfocused and his fingers shake despite being wrapped tight around the doorframe. He looks so miserable you can’t even rejoice in the fact that you’re finally seeing his face.
“Oh my god, are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance? Or the police?”
The man shivers, his eyes unfocused and squinted, and you give him a once over, surprised to find his whole body trembling. He shakes his head, barely, but you don’t trust him.
“You look really sick. Are you sure I can’t help you with anything?”
You move closer, reaching up to feel his forehead but he jerks away, losing his footing and falls to the floor. Again.
He groans, tense and shivering, and you stand in the doorway, suddenly unsure if you’re welcome or not. In the end, you decide to say fuck it. You can’t leave him like this.
“Let me at least help you back to your bed.”
The man is so out of it he doesn’t even protest as you step inside, closing the door behind you.
He’s big, so much bigger than the other guys on campus, and honestly would be quite attractive if he wasn’t so sick. But…he’s massive. And you’re, well, not.
He doesn’t move to get away, or at all really, so you kneel by him and place a hand on his chest. He lets out a pained whimper, his hand suddenly clamping around your wrist, surprisingly strong. His heart thunders under your clammy fingers.
“You’re really not well. Come on, let’s get to the bed at least.” It’s a miracle you manage to keep your voice steady.
He opens his eyes just enough for you to see the shimmer of green, but you look away as you wrap your arms under his armpits, feeling the muscles in his back bunch even tighter at the touch. You ignore that for the moment, brace yourself, count in your head, and then you lift.
You strain yourself, not really realizing how heavy he would truly be, but you manage to get him sitting up and leaning against the wall, his head lolling slightly. The shirt he’s wearing is soaked through with sweat, his hair much the same. His cologne tickles your nose, despite the desperate scene.
“What’s wrong with you? Are you sure you don’t want me to call an ambulance?”
He shakes his head, barely lucid. “Can’t…help…”
The words are slurred and barely audible.
You hesitate before reaching out to place a hand on his forehead, feeling the heat radiating off of him. He doesn’t jerk away from the touch this time. In fact, his whole body relaxes and slumps sideways, nearly falling face first to the floor.
You scramble to hold his shoulders, keeping him from toppling all the way over.
“Can I? Help?”
He moans, a pitiful sound, and opens his eyes. For the first time since you found him in a heap on the floor, he seems actually aware, like he’s just caught on that you’re trying to help.
“Why?” he rasps out.
You’re taken aback by the question, but…you suppose it makes sense. It’s not like you guys have ever talked before. You just watched his every move. Like a totally normal person.
“Because I want to. You don’t look well and if you won’t let me call an ambulance, then maybe I can help. Or I can at least call someone else for you if you’d like? A brother, sister, mom or dad? Someone?”
He shakes his head, closing his eyes again. “All too far. Can’t help.”
He slumps a little more and you tighten your grip on his shoulders before he falls…again. He jerks at your touch, his brow pinching and a low moan slips from his lips. The sound sends a thrill through your stomach, making you warm. It isn’t a sound you typically hear from a nearly dead person.
“What…exactly do you need help with?” you ask, suddenly unsure.
His fists flex at his sides, his jaw clenching. He seems to be weighing his options. To tell you or not…
His breathing is heavy when he answers. “I need to lay.”
You raise a brow, not understanding.
“Lay? Like you need to lay down?”
He shakes his head, a bead of sweat dripping over his temple.
“Lay eggs. If I don’t lay soon, I’ll die.”
If it wasn’t for the way his entire body was trembling, you’d think he was joking.
“And you can’t…lay…because?”
He peeks through slitted eyes. “Because I need a willing host.”
You’re suddenly struck with the realization of what he needs…and also with how much you want to be the one to help. You may be a virgin but the internet exists, and the rabbit holes you’ve found yourself getting lost in…the very ones full of creatures that weren’t supposed to exist…
“Okay. Let me help.”
You try to hide the excitement in your voice, but he must hear it because he stills, his jaw dropping, his eyes opening fully again.
“You’re serious?”
You blush, knowing how insane it is to agree to this with someone you barely know, and nod your head, smiling. “Very. Tell me how I can help.”
He’s taken aback, clearly surprised by your eagerness, but his need to lay must take over because he nods, fumbling with the drawstring on his sweats.
“Help me get these off. I would take you to the bed but I don’t think I can move…”
You nod, unable to contain your excitement. Your fingers wrap around the waistband of his pants and you pull, noting the struggle it takes for him to lift his hips. By the time you get his pants off, you’re disappointed to find there’s nothing there. Nothing you expected at least.
But before you can even voice your concern, his hand grabs yours and places it between his legs. Your mouth opens again, a question on the tip of your tongue, and then something wriggles under your fingers. You glance down and then smile at the thin pink tentacle thing poking between your fingers.
“That’s cute,” you whisper, giggling, watching the tentacle wrap around your fingers playfully. But his hand tightens around yours, all seriousness as he barely manages to sit up and push you down onto your back.
“It gets bigger,” he whispers, voice strained, his breath brushing over your face at the close distance between your faces.
You look up and blush, mouth agape at the massive size of the man above you, heat radiating off his body enough to make you sweat.
With trembling fingers, he runs his large hands over your thighs, lifting the hem of your nightgown over your waist, and then over your head, leaving you bare on his apartment floor.
“You promise?” you ask, breathless.
He nods, his eyes raking over your nude form as he pulls your underwear off in one swift motion. “I promise.”
He takes just enough time to get his shirt off, his chest broad and gorgeous, his stomach muscles clenching visibly, and then he’s at your throat, his tongue licking over your pulse like a man starving. The first press of his tentacle member makes you twitch, your hips pressing up closer, needing it so much more than you thought.
He settles heavily between your legs, his face buried between your neck and shoulder, and you wrap your legs tighter around his waist, drawing him closer, needing it desperately. You’ve been imagining this man between your legs for months, and now…it’s actually happening.
“Brace yourself,” he says, his heated breath brushing over your throat, and you grin.
You drag your nails over his back and he moans, his whole body tensing on top of you, his cock getting thicker and thicker as it continues to press inside. Your hips buck and his hand clamps down on your waist, keeping you still.
“This won’t last long if you keep that up,” he gasps out. His fingers are so long, so gorgeously long, and you want them everywhere.
“Then hurry up,” you moan in response, pressing up against him again. He shudders, a pitiful moan slipping from his lips, but he does as you ask. He thrusts his hips in a slow, lazy rhythm, stretching you out as his cock continues to grow.
It’s so warm and deliciously large, much bigger than any of your toys, and he presses against every amazing sweet spot. His tongue dances over your throat and you let your head fall back against the floor, the pleasure so hot and intense.
There’s a sharp pain inside you when he breaches your cervix but it’s immediately soothed by some thick gel pumping into you. You’ve heard that it’s actually supposed to be painful for men to push this far, but this? This is amazing. You can feel him stretching you out so easily, molding your body to his needs. It’s perfect.
He continues his sloppy, slow thrusts until suddenly he gasps and tenses, tiny whimpers escaping him, his hot breaths falling over your throat. You brush your fingers through his hair and he snaps his hips, making you cry out, the pleasure overwhelming in so many ways. You feel him stretch more, feel your slit expand around the first egg, and you cum hard, harder than you ever have before.
Your fingers scramble for a hold, gripping the massive muscles bulging on his back. Chest heaving, you can’t help but cry out as the first egg slips past your tight lips. You feel it the entire time, the stretching, the heavy egg moving through you until it pushes past your cervix and settles into your uterus.
His hand tightens on your hip as you squeeze around him, milking him for more. He grunts and then each one comes faster than the next, practically falling into you with every passing second, and after a few more desperate thrusts, he collapses on top of you, your stomach swollen and heavy.
“Holy fuck,” you gasp out, chest heaving, body humming with release. “That was…that was amazing.”
He shudders and lifts himself up on his hands, looking down at you with a strange yet fond look, sweat dotting his brow. His skin is darker now, less pale, his eyes more focused.
“What?” you ask, keeping your legs wrapped around his waist, not even sure if you could move them if you wanted to.
He shakes his head, his eyes prettier than they were before, his brown curls falling over his forehead. “Nothing, it’s just…you surprised me is all.”
You grin and wrap your hands over his shoulders, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, watching how his eyes flutter at the touch.
“What would you have done without me?” you ask. You’re actually really curious because if it was as bad as he was saying…
“Probably would’ve died. I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d die if I didn’t lay.”
He looks down, shifts his hips and wraps an arm under your waist, holding you still as he slowly pulls out, the friction making you shiver.
“I’m glad you didn’t die.”
His eyes lift to yours and a small smile graces his face. “Me too.”
Something warm fills your gut and you know, without a doubt, that you’ll regret it if you never speak to this man again.
“What’s your name?”
He smirks and sits up, bringing you with him so you’re sitting in his lap, arms still wrapped over his shoulders.
“Vislos. And yours?”
You tell him and he nods, lifting you up with him as he stands, his hands holding your waist with ease. Feeling his muscles bulge under your fingers makes you warm all over again, especially as the added weight around your middle settles. It’s heavy but amazing, something new.
“Do you have any plans tomorrow?”
The question catches you off guard, but you shake your head. It’s a Sunday and the only plans you ever made on Sundays was to clean.
“Good.”
“Good?”
He nods, a sly grin on his face. “If you’re up for it, I want to fuck you again while I’m lucid.”
You don’t get a chance to answer before his lips smother yours, his hands much stronger now, and his body deliciously heavy against yours. He guides you to what is probably his bedroom, considering the layout is just like yours but flipped, but also you couldn’t care less.
A door closes but you’re caught up in the feeling of his hands on your bare ass, his tongue buried in your mouth. You barely notice as he pushes you into the shower, pressing you up against the wall as the hot water starts cascading down his back, making you moan.
He practically consumes you, marking every inch of your body and you let him, wanting to be claimed. Wanting this so bad. And he doesn’t disappoint.
“Stay the night? Please?” he begs, his bright green eyes peeking at you through sinfully long lashes.
You don’t even hesitate to nod, wanting to feel his strong arms wrapped around you as much as you can. And not to mention, you still had so many questions. But those could wait.
His smile makes you melt, his eyes sparkling now with a new life. And as he kisses his way down your body, his tongue finding the sensitive nub of your clit, you’re pretty sure your own eyes are shining with new life too.
**
“Where are you from?”
Vislos raises a brow, looking down at you from where he’s laying back against the headboard. You’d both showered and fell into bed naked, wrapped around each other. And you were currently enjoying the feeling of his strong arm wrapped around you, your head resting on his shoulder.
“That’s where you want to start the questions?”
You shrug, running a finger over his pec and smirking when it twitches. “I have several. I figured one at a time would be easier.”
He huffs, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
“I was born on Earth. My mother is human.”
You hum, looking up through your lashes. “And your father?”
He nods, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. “From somewhere far away. Somewhere I’ve never seen and probably never will.”
“How many eggs did you lay?”
He smirks now, shifting his arm to pull you closer.
“At least 50. The longer we wait, the more we lay.”
50 eggs. That many. And they all fit inside you.
“And when do I…uhhh, lay them I guess?” You weren’t really sure of the proper terminology.
“It varies for the first time, especially for human women. But I would guess a week or so.”
A week…
“Wait, I have classes. How am I supposed to go to school looking like this?” you ask, sitting up, suddenly very aware of how large your belly is. It isn’t like a full term pregnant belly, but it is big enough to be obvious. Big enough to make you feel like it’s real…
“You can still go to your classes. I have a sweatshirt you can wear. It’ll cover you enough.” The pleased smile on his face doesn’t escape you though.
You look down at yourself, down at the swell of your middle. “Will they make babies? Do I have 50 babies incubating inside of me?”
He chuckles, sitting forward now too, pulling you into his lap until you’re straddling him. His hands are so big they almost cover your entire ass.
“No. You have 50 unfertilized eggs inside you. Probably about the size of oranges. You’ll lay them in a week or so and then we will discard them.”
The disappointment you feel at that comes as a surprise. Not even one child out of this mess. Would he even stick around long enough to try for one later? Maybe when you’ve finished your classes?
“Are you…upset?” he asks hesitantly, his eyes roaming over your face.
His hands brush up over your waist, calming you easily. He’s so warm, his body so much larger than your own. If you stood next to him, he’d likely be at least a head and a half taller than you.
“No. Not really? I guess I was just kind of surprised they were all unfertilized.”
His brow raises and you sigh, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.
“I’m relieved more than anything. I still want to finish school before trying to settle down. And my parents would not like the idea of me dropping out because I’m pregnant.”
You dig your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and his lips fall open, his hands tightening around your waist. His eyes grow distant and you watch as a flush covers his cheeks.
“Are you always this sensitive?” you ask, impressed by how easily he responds to your touch.
Vislos clears his throat, his eyes clearing, focusing back on you. “Um, for the most part, yes. There are certain areas on our bodies that are more sensitive than others, but still more so for us than for humans.”
You hum, a small smile spreading across your lips, and Vislos’ brows crease.
“What are you thinking?”
You shake your head, looking like the ever innocent school girl, even as your fingers move to brush over his shoulders.
“Oh nothing,” you croon out, letting your fingers drift lower, brushing over his chest. His pecs jump at the contact, and his breath hitches. You lightly run the pad of your finger over one of his nipples, and he jerks, letting out a guttural moan.
“Liar,” he gasps out, but he doesn’t move to get away. Doesn’t push you off of his lap. In fact, the way his eyes flutter and his lips fall open, you can tell he wants more.
“I’m just curious,” you say softly, letting your fingers drift lower and lower, brushing over the ridges of his abs, clearly well defined but still cushioned.
“Isn’t there a saying about curiosity killing cats?” he gasps out, his hands moving from your waist to the sheets.
His voice is hoarse, his breathing heavy, the muscles in his arms bulging from gripping the bed sheets so hard. Despite trying poorly to hide it, you can see the way his body pushes closer, wanting you to keep going.
“There is,” you answer, feeling yourself grow warmer at the realization of how much you affect him. “Curiosity killed the cat, but,” you pause, looking back into his eyes, “satisfaction brought it back.”
You place your hand between his legs and his whole body jerks, his head falling back against the headboard, a loud thud echoing around the room. His mouth falls open and a deliciously sinful moan falls from his lips, wrapping around you and making you shiver with need.
Just as you’d hoped, the little tentacle comes out to play once more, the thin pink thing wrapping over your fingers playfully. It’s almost like it has a mind of its own, twirling around your fingers and pressing between them.
“Amazing.”
Vislos groans, his whole body tense and rigid as you play with the little tentacle. His stomach muscles clench, his thighs tighten as he holds himself still.
“Can you…can we…again?” you ask, breathless at the beautiful man in front of you nearly broken from your touch alone. It sends a thrill down your back.
He takes a deep breath, muttering something under his breath, and then his hands are back on your waist, his eyes focused fully on your face.
“Like this?” he asks, breathless, his chest heaving.
You nod, wanting to watch his face. Wanting to see it all clearly this time around.
He groans but nods, shifting himself to lay back against the pillows and lifts his legs, pressing his knees up behind you, shifting you forward so you’re straddling the little tentacle. It plays in your slick heat, rubbing over your slick lips, brushing over your clit and makes you gasp and jerk.
It finally stops messing around and you lean forward, bracing your hands on Vislos’ chest, feeling it explore deeper inside you, curious instead of desperate this time.
“Will you lay more eggs?” you ask, barely able to get the question out through the arousal shoving through you.
Vislos shakes his head, his jaw clenched, his fingers tight around your hips.
“Already laid them all,” he gasps out. “Won’t have more for a week.”
You nod and bounce softly, wanting more. He must want more too because the tentacle starts pushing faster, slithering through your tight pussy.
He shivers and looks up at you, his eyes shining with desire and need and something else you can’t read. His hands flex, squeezing your hips and then he’s brushing them up over the heavy swell of your middle, then up to cup your breasts, a perfect handful for each hand.
He pinches your nipples and you gasp, squeezing around him. His hips jerk and you grin, shifting to hold onto the headboard instead.
“Keep up,” you challenge, and his eyes sparkle with mirth as you start to bounce, taking control. And he just lets you, watching your heavy form from below, his eyes wandering and devouring your every move. His hands continue to wander, feeling every inch of your skin. You’re so suddenly hit by the realization that this man could be yours if you wanted, that you could have everything you wanted and then some.
With renewed vigor, you take control and pleasure yourself, already planning on how to make this permanent.
**
Turns out though, you don’t have to try very hard. You stayed at his place Sunday night too, but Monday morning was a rude reminder that you had to go back to your everyday life. To normal.
You thought he would leave it at that, only revisit you later when it was time to lay and discard the eggs incubating inside you, but he surpassed your every expectation by cooking you breakfast, offering to drop you off at school, and even bringing you lunch when you told him you forgot yours.
He was doting, kind, and even funny, making you laugh at the stupidest jokes. By the end of the week, you felt like you’d known him for years. He knew what foods you liked, what you disliked, paid attention when you talked, and honestly…he was perfect.
Saturday morning, he comes over to cook breakfast, using the extra key you gave him to get into your apartment. He finds you in bed, slips under the covers and wraps himself around you, kissing the back of your neck in greeting.
You groan, smiling as he shuffles closer.
“Hmm, morning,” you hum.
“Morning,” comes his muffled reply. He wraps his arm under your swollen middle, tucking himself up against your back as close as he can. Big spoon isn’t enough to describe how his body practically smothers you.
“What’s for breakfast?” you ask, running your hand down his arm and linking your fingers with his.
He nuzzles into you, his breath hot and heavy against the back of your neck.
“Bacon and avocado toast. Also fruit and some breakfast potatoes.”
You hum again, already feeling your stomach starting to growl. You’re starving.
“Get cooking then,” you command, but neither one of you move. He only buries himself closer, trapping you in his arms. At least until your stomach growls loud enough for the both of you to hear.
You sigh and he chuckles, shifting and slipping out of bed, but not before he leaves a kiss on your temple and a light pat on your ass. You grin and watch as he disappears out of the bedroom door, his ass looking mighty fine in those sweatpants.
You take your time getting up, stretching and slowly sitting up, adjusting to the early morning hour. The shower is calling your name so you climb out of bed, shuffle to the bathroom, and take your time lavishing your body with soap.
Your belly has grown some over the last week, a side effect of the eggs absorbing the food you’ve been eating. At least, that’s what Vislos says. You don’t mind, even if it means the sweatshirt he gave you barely covers the bump now.
Turns out people in college just don’t care. Nobody pays any attention to you, nor do they mention anything about the swell of your middle, even though you wear a sweatshirt in the summer. Even your friends haven’t noticed anything wrong. Well, they’ve noticed that you’re different, but you easily distracted them by telling them all about the new buff boyfriend you acquired entirely by accident.
The details stay secret, but that doesn’t mean you can’t gush to them about how doting and amazing he is, and how much you want him to be yours forever. They laugh and call you a simp but it doesn’t matter. You know deep down, Vislos is the real simp in this relationship.
By the time you step out of the shower, the smell of bacon and potatoes calls to you, dragging you from the bathroom before you’ve even dried off properly.
Vislos is there, in your kitchen, dressed in a simple yet sinful pair of gray sweats and a long sleeve t-shirt, the sleeves rolled up his forearms. His hair is a mess, his curls sticking out in several directions, like he forgot to brush it this morning, and you smile softly to yourself, watching as he painstakingly cuts the fruit into little slices and places them artfully on the plate. It’s endearing how much he cares for the small things.
You take a few more minutes to wrap a robe around yourself, and then you shuffle into the kitchen, wrapping your arms around his back, taking a deep whiff of his cologne.
He straightens, putting the knife in the sink and turns, facing you, face soft. “Breakfast is ready.”
He looks so happy, so delighted to be doing this for you…
“Thank you.”
He grins and nods, turning you around as he guides you to the table where a rather large buffet of items await. All of your favorite fruits, your bacon cooked extra crispy just how you like it, the potatoes still steaming in their dish. Your stomach growls again and he grins.
“Eat up. You need all the energy you can get.”
You nod, too hungry to disagree. Not that you wanted to anyway.
“You’ll probably lay the eggs soon. You’re showing signs,” he adds as he sits across from you.
You don’t even know what that means, ‘showing signs’, but you don’t care.
“Will you lay eggs in me again once they’re gone?” you ask after taking a large bite of your avocado toast.
He looks a little taken aback by the question, choking a bit on the bacon he’d just eaten, but nods earnestly. “If you’ll allow me to. It’s best to lay weekly.”
You hum around a mouthful of potatoes. “I would like that. I can help you for as long as you want. Or…until you find someone else…”
The thought puts a sour taste in your mouth, but the sudden dazzling smile on Vislos’ face distracts you from the idea.
He wipes his mouth off and slips from the chair, moving to kneel in front of you, his hands wrapping around your own in your lap. He’s looking at your belly as he speaks.
“It’s not easy finding someone like you. My father was lucky to find my mother, and I am incredibly lucky to have found you.”
There’s a warmth growing in your middle as he speaks.
“So, if you’ll have me, I should very much like to stay. And take care of you for as long as you allow it.”
The sheer devotion on his face, the unhindered truth he lets bleed into his words…it leaves you breathless.
“I promise I will do everything in my power to make you happy.”
The gentle words are so at contrast with the strong, heavily built man kneeling before you, but yet…they ring true. Without a doubt, you know this man will make you the happiest woman in the world.
**
“Can you hand me the tape?”
The ribbon hanging from your fingers sways slightly in the heat blowing from the unit, and Vislos does as you ask, passing the tape up to you while keeping a protective hand on your ankle.
He hadn’t exactly been happy about you climbing the ladder, but you’d insisted and he relented, albeit reluctantly.
Christmas is and always has been your absolute favorite holiday, and though you don’t have much, you always decorate.
You finish taping the ribbon up, leaning back to make sure it’s level, and then clap your hands together, content with the placement. Vislos’ hand never leaves your leg, his fingers tight around your calf, and you smile, nodding down at him.
“It’s perfect. Help me down.”
He doesn’t even hesitate to lift you off the ladder and place you gently on your feet, his fingers tight around your waist. You’re pretty sure this is the first time he’s taken a breath since you climbed the ladder.
“Do you like it?” you ask, looking up at the lights and ribbons hanging over the window in your bedroom. The colors pair well with the tree and stockings in the living room.
Vislos wraps his arms around your middle, his hand cupping the swell of your newest batch of eggs, and nods.
“I like it much better now that you’re back on the floor.”
You scoff and slap his arm, but a smile tugs at your lips. His concern is nice. Makes you feel loved.
“I can’t believe it’s been 5 months. Christmas break could not have come any faster.”
With final exams, studying, and just the general chaos of the end of year college preparations, Vislos hadn't laid his eggs in you for three whole weeks. And for those three weeks, you had both been miserable. You with your studying, and him trying to cope with his body readjusting to having to wait to lay.
He never got as bad as the first time you met, but he’d been getting paler, weaker, napping more often. You knew it was affecting him, even if he wouldn’t admit it. The night you came home from your last exam, you found him knocked out on the couch, snoring softly. You just curled up into him and he wrapped himself around you, warm and comfortable.
Now though, he looks lively as ever, his skin back to that dark tan you love so much. And the sparkle in his eyes is finally back. That’s what you’ve missed the most.
“Do you celebrate Christmas?”
He looks down at you, his thumbs absently rubbing over the sides of your belly. “Not in the same sense as you. But I do usually go home and eat with my parents and brothers.”
You nod, resting your head back against his chest as his thumbs continue to make small little circles over the sides of your stomach.
“Will I ever meet them?”
He nods, no hesitation. “If you’d like to. I had planned on going to visit them for the holiday, but you needed me more.”
The admission makes your gut warm, a growing fondness you only felt for him.
“Maybe one day we can go visit. I’d like to meet them.”
He hums softly, his hips swaying side to side.
“Fine with me. Just let me know when. I’ll call them and let them know.”
You relax into his arms, leaning back against him, and think back to when you’d first met, on the floor of the next door apartment. You still can’t believe it’s only been 5 months. It feels like years.
“How would you feel about meeting my parents? I know it’s still early but…”
He pulls himself to full height and turns you around, pulling you into his front, a soft smile on his lips.
“I’d love to. Just tell me when.”
You raise a brow up at him, holding his biceps.
“Really? Just like that?”
He shrugs, shoulders bunching.
“I’ll do anything for you. Especially if it’ll make you happy.”
If you were really pregnant, you’d probably be a sobbing mess on the floor from that comment. Even so, you’re still fairly close to tears at such an easy declaration of love.
“Anything?” You ask, even if only to distract yourself from the intensity of your feelings for this man.
It’s his turn to raise a brow now, looking down at you suspiciously.
“Yes, anything. But don’t go getting any funny ideas,” he teases, lightly flicking your nose.
You scrunch your nose up at him and he leans in to kiss it, playfully slapping your butt.
“What are we going to do during your precious time off from school?” he asks, changing the subject.
You sigh, laying your forehead on his chest.
“I can think of a few things.”
“You can’t possibly want to do that every night for the entire break.”
“Why? Don’t think you’ll be able to keep up?”
He scoffs, wrapping his arms around you to hold you close.
“I don’t think I’m the one with the stamina issues.”
“Psh, I’m not the one who fell asleep after one round.”
He groans and pinches your butt, making you yelp.
“That’s not fair and you know it. There were extenuating circumstances.”
You laugh, looking up at him with your chin on his chest.
“You’re right. It’s my fault you had to wait that long again. I’m sorry.”
His face softens and he cups your cheeks, pushing them together and turning your head side to side.
“I already told you there was no need for apologies. I survived, and you passed, that’s what matters.”
You sigh and nod…or at least you try to with his hands still cupping your cheeks. He seems satisfied with the response though and leans in for a kiss, slow and sensual, making your legs grow weak.
“Why don’t you start with a bath? You can use your new soap,” he suggests, and it’s the best idea you’ve ever heard.
**
The steam of the bath fills the bathroom and you sigh, enjoying the heated water easing the tense muscles of your back. The weight around your middle is heavier than usual since he laid more eggs this time around.
You run your fingers over the bump, letting the soap drip off your fingers as you imagine what it would be like if it was real. If you were really pregnant, carrying a new life inside of you. You’re surprised to find that you actually want that. That you want to feel the swell of your middle harden, to watch it contract as you push out your first of hopefully many children…
“What are you thinking about?”
Vislos interrupts your thoughts as he steps into the room and sits at the edge of the tub, his fingers resting on the knee that’s poking out of the water.
You smile and lean back, watching the man you love admire the heavy swell of your middle.
“Seeing you naked,” you answer, watching his face scrunch adorably.
“You see me naked nearly every day you heathen.”
You laugh then, reaching up to grab his hand, pulling it into the water and placing it on top of your belly.
His smile softens and his fingers spread over the underside of your belly, his thumb brushing softly over the side.
“You’re close.”
You nod, enjoying the feeling of his fingers on your body. You can recognize the signs now, and can tell when you’re getting closer to laying. It isn’t so much a guessing game anymore.
“Wanna join me?”
His eyes lift to yours and he nods, not even hesitating to stand and strip out of his clothes. You watch, unashamed.
His muscles shift and twitch as he kicks off his pants and you stare at his tentacle playfully poking out between his legs, raising a brow up at him. He looks back down at you with a smirk.
“You’re hot. I can’t help it.”
The comment makes you snort, shaking your head in disappointment even as you sit up and allow him to shift into the bath behind you. His thighs wrap around your sides and his whole body envelops you, making you even warmer than before.
He settles and the water just barely sloshes over the edge of the tub, making you sigh.
“You’re too big for this.”
He just grins, wrapping his arms around you, his hands rubbing the sides of your extended belly.
“That’s not what you said the other night.”
You roll your eyes, stifling your smile.
“And you call me a heathen.”
He hums softly, his chest warm and heavy against your back.
“As I recall, you were the one undressing me every second you got.”
“I don’t remember you refusing,” you refute, slapping at his hand as his fingers wander to your breast.
“How could I? When you look so delectable like this.”
He nips at the shell of your ear and you bite back a groan, not wanting to encourage him. He seems to dislike that though and he does it again, this time ignoring your warning and squeezing your heavy breasts.
You let out a soft sigh, unable to hold it back, and you can feel his grin on the back of your neck.
“Bastard.”
“Yes but only your bastard.”
You shake your head, giving up on trying to keep him away. You didn’t want him to stop anyway.
He took advantage of your defeat, now running his hands over your whole body, your breasts, your stomach, and then between your legs, pressing a few fingers into you.
You sigh and let your head fall back against his shoulder, enjoying the playful yet pleasurable way his fingers move. You’re close to orgasm when you feel a shift, somewhere deep inside you.
“The eggs are coming,” you gasp softly, already feeling the heat and pleasure starting to build. His fingers stop moving though and you whine.
“Do you want to stop?”
The sentiment was nice, but there was nothing you wanted more than to lay these eggs in this tub while his fingers continued to move sinfully over your body.
“Never.”
He huffs, his fingers moving again. “Good.”
**
It takes all of 30 minutes to lay the 12 eggs Vislos had planted inside you. With the help of several orgasms, it was a breeze. Vislos, horny as he is though, doesn’t waste the time pleasuring you even more.
As you pushed, he played with your clit, slow at first and then speeding up, moving to the rhythm of the eggs stretching you open and then falling into the water of the tub. Their light green shells matched the beautiful green of his eyes and once again you’re left thinking about what it would be like to have children with him.
Would they be like him? Would they look like him? Would they have any of your features? What would their personality be like? Vislos showed you pictures last week of his family, and his father’s features were more prominent, but you could still see his mother in his eyes.
Vislos and Eze both look much like their father, the broad builds and tanned skin. Uma though, he looks far more like his mother. Despite only being a few years apart, Uma looks so vastly different from the two, it's surprising to you that they’re related.
The thought of giving that to Vislos, of providing a child that he could take care of and raise, that he could protect and dote on, it ached in your chest. You want it so badly.
“There you go again, looking off into the distance. Are you still imagining me naked?”
You huff, your thoughts interrupted again.
“No. Not this time.”
Vislos must hear the change in your tone because he stops running his hands over your now flat stomach, shifting slightly so he can look at you.
“Are you ok?”
You smile at him and nod, lifting your soapy hand from the water and cupping his cheek. He accepts your kiss, his eyes going distant for a split second before zoning back in on you.
“I just…I was thinking about what it would be like to have a child for real. Not right now of course,” you hurriedly add. You want to finish school first. “But later, down the line. We could settle down, have one or two kids, move to the mountains like your parents.”
He doesn’t say anything but his eyes are watery when you look back up at him, and you sit up, turning to straddle his lap as best you can in the confines of the tub.
“What’s wrong? Did I say something? We don’t have to, I was just—“
“I’d like that,” he says softly, cutting you off with a finger to your lips. As goofy as he usually is, he knows when to be serious, and it always makes your heart jump in your chest.
“Really?”
He nods, the most breathtaking smile on his face.
“Of course. I want that more than you’ll ever know.”
Now your own eyes grow watery and you lean in closer, resting your forehead on his. You close your eyes and just breathe in, the scent of the lavender soap filling your nose.
“When I finish school. I have a year and a half left. But I’m willing, if you are. Please,” you add, wanting him to realize just how serious you are about this.
His fingers wrap around your waist tight, holding you still as he nods, his face splotchy with unshed tears.
“I love you.”
**
The rest of winter break consists of you and Vislos enjoying your time together. He somehow manages to connect your switch to the tv and you both play Mario Kart and Overcooked, arguing louder than probably necessary when he knocks you off the rainbow road and arguing more when he doesn’t chop the veggies fast enough.
It never gets heated though. He’s competitive, impressively so, but he never acts petty or annoyed when he loses. At least not that you can tell.
You rarely leave the apartment, if only for groceries, and most of the time it’s just Vislos going to the corner store about a block from the apartment building.
You force him to watch Hallmark Christmas movies, enjoying the disgust on his face every time the big city woman leaves her big time money husband for the small town country farmboy. He makes you hot chocolate, with marshmallows and cinnamon just how you like it, and then he lets you curl up into his side, smothered in big fluffy blankets.
You could probably live on this couch forever. Here, with him, basking in his warmth and his gentle comfort, you’re content. Happy. Incredibly so. But school starts back in 2 days and you’re not ready for this to be over yet.
He absentmindedly runs his fingers over your shoulder, brows furrowed as he watches the woman on the screen fumble through her monologue. You’re warm, full of hot chocolate, and his fingers send a thrill down your back with every stroke.
You shift, putting your mug on the table, and pretend to get more comfortable. He keeps watching the movie, even as you tuck your face into the curve of his neck, and you place a kiss on the sensitive part of his neck, the same spot that always makes him squirm.
He twitches and his breath hitches.
“What are you doing?”
His voice is warm and delicious and it sends another thrill through your entire body.
“Nothing,” you answer, even as you place another kiss on the underside of his jaw.
He groans and pulls away.
“You heathen. Will you ever be satisfied?” he asks playfully. The flush on his face betrays his desire for you to keep going, and you shrug, running your fingers over the muscle of his thigh.
“If you can’t keep up…” you tease, your fingers slipping between his legs.
He raises a brow at the challenge in your voice.
His tentacle starts moving under his boxers and you grin, satisfied, but he grabs your hand and pulls it away, pulling it to his lips instead.
“You’ll be the death of me, you know.”
His fingers trail down to your wrist, thumbing your pulse, then he kisses your palm, making you squirm.
“I think I’m the only thing keeping you alive actually,” you joke, leaning in to put a kiss to his lips.
His eyes follow you the whole way but he doesn’t pull back. Doesn’t even try to stop you. You pull back and his eyes grow soft, a fond smile growing on his lips.
“In more ways than you’ll ever know,” he answers, leaning in to kiss even deeper.
You melt into his touch, folding so easily as he lays you back on the couch, his thigh slipping between your legs. He settles his weight down on you and kisses over your jaw.
“Put your eggs in me again, please. I want to feel full again.”
Your voice is hoarse and he shudders, his eyes growing hungry as he pulls away to look at you.
“You sure? I can go another week if you—“
“I’m sure,” you interrupt, lifting your thigh to brush between his legs.
His mouth falls open and his eyes squeeze shut, the way he always does when he’s trying to hold himself back.
“Come on, please? It’s been a week already.”
His fingers clench around your waist and you can feel them trembling. He’s clearly been waiting for this too.
He lets out a shuddering sigh and sits up, pushing his boxers to his knees and you squirm with anticipation.
“Fuck yes.”
He huffs, rolling his eyes at your enthusiasm, but he’s clearly just as eager, his tentacle already inching its way out.
He takes a moment to slip your sleep shorts off, leaving you bare below the waist, and then he turns you onto your side, slipping behind you. His favorite position. He really likes to feel your stomach swell.
“Keep still,” he whispers, his breath brushing over the back of your neck as his hand creeps under your shirt, making you twitch. You don’t even realize your hips are moving until he says that.
“Sorry,” you mutter but he doesn’t bother to respond, his lips already moving over your neck to suck on the disappearing bruise. He likes that too. Leaving marks.
His calloused fingers brush up against your breast and you let out a breathy moan. His tentacle, warm and wet, slips between your legs, and you lift a leg over Vislos’ thigh.
It plays with you at first, slipping through your slick folds over and over, teasing you enough to make you whimper. Vislos, the dickhead, is thumbing over your nipple while massaging your breast, his lips doing wonderful things to the back of your neck. It’s just enough to bring you to the edge, but not enough to push you over.
“I swear to god, you better fuck me before I cum or so help me—“
Vislos chuckles, stuffing two fingers into your mouth and you groan. He presses his hips down into you, effectively crushing you between him and the couch cushion. You debate biting his fingers until that tentacle finally, blessedly, slips into your slick heat.
It’s so sudden and warm it nearly breaks you, but you breathe through the growing warmth, letting your mouth fall open, your tongue wrapping around his fingers.
He groans and the sound echoes through you. It’s so needy.
His hips buck into you and you cry out, unable to move your hips back. He just keeps going, the tentacle pushing and pushing, filling you until finally, you feel that familiar pinching sensation.
A muffled fuck comes from behind you and a whimper follows as Vislos takes his fingers from your mouth and puts his hand over your stomach instead. His hand is so big it nearly covers the whole expanse.
“Yes, yes fuck. Lay your eggs in me,” you cry out, and Vislos shudders with a groan. Then eggs slip into you faster than they ever have. Desperate whimpers come from the man inside you and you lose it. Over the edge from his noises and the deep push and pull of the eggs, pleasure coursing through every inch of you, making you hot and cold all at once, and Vislos…he just keeps going.
“Unnffhhh, fuuuck,” he groans, his finger tips pressing into your growing stomach, and you nearly cum again, just from the pitiful noises escaping his lips once more. You’re really lost for this man.
His hips stutter, his gasps growing louder, and then he collapses on top of you in a heap, smothering you.
“Vislos,” you groan, smacking his thigh until he moves.
His fingers tremble on your waist as he rolls off of you, once again moving behind you, the big spoon to your little spoon.
“Sorry,” he says, his chest still heaving. “You ok?”
You nod, your breathing finally settling down.
“Fine. Better than fine. Thank you.”
He huffs, pulling you impossibly closer, and kisses your shoulder.
“Pretty sure I’m the one that should be saying that but you’ve turned my brain to mush.”
You open your mouth to respond but a moan slips out as he pulls out of you, leaving you feeling empty again. At least your stomach is full of eggs. It’s a feeling you’re starting to get used to, and you don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.
“You’ve turned my insides to mush so I think we’re even.”
A snort sounds from behind you and you grin, pulling his arm tighter around your chest. He has a handful of your boob, something he likes to do after intense sex, or really, just anytime he can get his hands on them. You like it, but you’ll never tell him that. If you did, he’d be unstoppable.
“I can’t believe Christmas break is almost over.”
He hums, his fingers squeezing and then letting go, acknowledging you without words. He must be really tired.
“Wanna go to bed? Before you fall asleep here?”
“Mm mm,” he murmurs, shaking his head for extra emphasis. He just curls himself around you like one big teddy bear and you grin, hugging his arm close to your chest.
“Very well. Good night. I love you.”
He at least deigns to answer those words, lifting himself just enough to kiss your jaw, whispering I love you into your ear, and then he’s gone again. Not 5 minutes pass before he’s softly snoring, the noise rumbling through you.
“Sleepyhead,” you mutter, but the smile never leaves your face. Not even as you drift into the best sleep you’ve ever had in your entire life.
**
He meets your parents about 7 months into your relationship, and he has them wrapped around his finger the second they lay eyes on him. Your father, hard headed as he is, loves him, and your mom about swoons the first time Vislos cooks dinner for them.
They pull you to the side before leaving, and they sing his praises, making you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. And then Vislos nearly cries when you tell him how much they love him. He had been so scared, no matter how hard you tried to convince him he was fine. You just hug him, letting him work through his emotions, and then he makes love to you through the night, nearly making you late for your early morning class.
By the time spring break rolls around, you both visit his family for the first time. They welcome you with open arms, his mom absolutely delighted to hear he’s found someone to take care of him.
His father, a quiet but firm man, gives him a pat on the back, and has to turn away as his eyes well up. He’s proud, that much is obvious.
His brothers are mostly the same, just a little less emotional. Or at least better at hiding it.
Eze is a rambunctious man and Uma is more refined, but he easily keeps up with their banter. Uma is smaller, but no less handsome, and if your future kid turns out anything like them, you’ll celebrate and thank whatever god exists that this is the life you were given.
Vislos’ mom pulls you to the side one night to ask how you’ve been managing, and she explains in no small detail just how different the breeding process is compared to the normal egg laying. Despite the difficulty, and the possible danger, you haven’t changed your mind, and she seems to be relieved at that realization.
After spending a week with his family, watching Vislos joke around and play fight with his brothers, more relaxed than he’s been since you met him, and realizing just exactly what you could have one day, it makes you all the more determined to finish school.
More than once you host study groups at the apartment, Vislos the handsome host as always, and you even earn several pats on the back for bagging “a good one”. You just roll your eyes at them, but you agree. He really is the perfect man.
The month before finals, you take a very much needed break from school, if only for the night, and Vislos takes you out for a real, proper date. Your one year anniversary.
You’ve been to dinner together before of course, and even to the movies a few times, but this time Vislos goes all out.
Though, when he first walks out of your room with a suit on, you have the mind to just stay inside the rest of the night. He had the same thought seeing you in your bright red dress, form fitting around your smaller waist and supple chest. He almost didn’t let you walk out of the apartment.
The restaurant is fancy, downtown, something you would normally eat at only once in a lifetime. The wine is absolutely delectable, the food even better, and by the time you leave, you have a food belly, peeking out through your tight dress. Vislos loves it and you don’t even make it home before he gets his hands on you, making you cum twice with his fingers and tongue alone.
By the time finals week arrives, you’re both miserable, him a little more so, if only because you won’t let him touch you lest you get distracted from studying. That doesn’t keep him from taking care of you though. And when bed time rolls around, he is always there, ready to wrap you in his arms.
You always feel bad when you keep him from laying, but he constantly assures you that while he may feel ill, it’ll never be as bad as when you first met. Not unless you go months apart. It doesn’t help you feel better at all, but you focus on studying anyway, knowing this is the best way you can help him.
He treats you better than you treat yourself most days, and now that the end is near, you can’t wait to give him what he truly wants.
**
Finishing school is the hardest thing you’ve ever done, but you’re determined. You have a promise on the line.
And truthfully, that promise isn’t the only thing driving you. Vislos is just the most perfect boyfriend and you’re genuinely excited to be able to spend life with him when school is over. You want to travel and explore with him, to just be with him for the rest of your life. And if the way he treats you says anything, he wants that too. Desperately.
So when you walk across the stage, dressed in a garnet robe, tassels dangling from your neck, your graduation cap sitting crooked on your head, it’s Vislos’ face you look for in the crowd. It’s his face beaming back at you, surrounded by your parents and his mother who so graciously made the trip to watch you graduate.
Tears burn in your eyes but you blink them away. This is your day. This is the day you’ve been waiting for, and you won’t let the tears smear your makeup.
**
“Hi, my lovely graduate.”
You grin and melt into Vislos’ arms. He kisses all over your face, picking you up and spinning you around once for good measure. His mom smacks him in the arm, but the smile on her face is evidence enough that she is just as happy as he is.
“Oh dear, you look lovely. I’m so proud of you.”
Vislos releases you long enough for you to hug your dad and mom, and she winks at you as Vislos moves right back to your side. He refuses to let you go, even during dinner, and during the drive back home. He’s always touching you, a hand on your side, a hand on your thigh, it’s comforting.
He stops just long enough to park the car and open your door, and then he’s carrying you to the elevator and over the threshold of your shared apartment.
His fingers are warm on your waist and legs, the smell of his cologne curls in your nose and makes you feel fuzzy inside.
“You can put me down now, you know.” You say it but you don’t really mean it. You like being in his arms.
Apparently he knows that too because he just smirks and readjusts his grip.
“I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes.”
You grin, kicking your feet a little before closing your eyes, just as he asks.
“No peeking,” he whispers, the warmth of his breath brushing over your ear.
“No promises.”
He huffs, but you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks again.
“Ok. Open them.”
You peek first, squinting to see what could possibly be going on, but your eyes open fully when you realize just what it is.
The bedroom, the one you’ve been sharing with him nearly since the day you met, is absolutely covered in rose petals and candles, the scent of roses and lavender strong enough to make your nose itch. He sets you down on your feet and you gaze in awe up at him, eyes wide.
“I know I say this a lot, but meeting you, knowing you, has been the most amazing gift I could ever ask for. I never once thought I would be this lucky. But…” he pauses, taking a deep breath, and then you feel tears prick at your eyes for the second time today as he gets down on one knee and continues…
“You are the most amazing woman, so smart and headstrong, sassy and funny. You make waking up in the morning worth it every single day, even if you put ketchup on your eggs.”
You snort, ugly tears falling down your cheeks now.
He grins up at you, his eyes watery as he pulls a small red box from his jacket pocket.
“I can’t live without you, nor do I want to. I want to grow old with you, and listen to you complain about your day. I want to have kids with you, when you’re ready, and I want to go on so many adventures. I promise to spoil you, to take care of you, and to always treat you with respect. So, my love…” he says, opening the red box to reveal one of the most gorgeous diamond rings you’ve ever seen. “Will you marry me?”
The answer is obvious. To you, to him, to anyone who has the chance to witness his love for you in person, but you still nod your head emphatically, wiping away the ugly tears.
“Yes, oh my god yes. I love you so much.”
His shoulders sag in relief and he stands, pulling you into a gut melting kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist the way they always do.
He pulls away long enough to put the ring on your finger, his fingers shaking just as bad as yours.
“I love you so much. And I promise to love you for the rest of our lives.”
Heart achingly full, you nod and kiss him again, the weight of the ring on your finger a forever reminder of the man you will love for the rest of your life.
**
The wedding is small, but still, it’s everything you’ve ever wished for. Your parents join, all of Vislos’ family, and a number of friends from school. In total the ceremony lasts about 30 minutes, and the remainder of the time is spent hanging out with everyone.
You can finally feel the stress falling off of you in waves. It may be a small ceremony, but there has been so much planning involved. Vislos hasn’t been able to lay in a few weeks so he’s pretty subdued, and you can see the faint tremble in his fingers, but that doesn’t keep his face from brightening whenever you get near him. He’s tired, but he’s happy, and he’s already promised retaliation later tonight. You look forward to it.
**
About five months after the wedding, it’s time to set your plans in motion. You can’t exactly tell your parents you’re pregnant like normal women, considering it doesn’t take as long for the eggs to hatch. So instead, you wait a bit, just enjoying being Vislos’ wife. He gets back into his normal rhythm of laying weekly, and he looks all the better for it. And every time you both go out, you get compliments on your belly, and how you’re glowing.
One morning, you’re dressed in a simple yellow sundress, sandals, and a floppy hat, taking maternity photos for the first time. Your hair is being unruly but you ignore it, focusing more on the bump of your belly under your dress. Your friend Sarah is just a few feet away, instructing you on how to pose as she snaps pictures.
You waited a few days after Vislos laid so you would be a little bigger, and with your hand tucked under your belly, holding the dress up against it, your bump is pretty pronounced. Just convincing enough to be over halfway through a pregnancy.
Sarah seems convinced enough. She keeps complimenting you and how good you look. And then when Vislos joins the pictures, she gushes over how good you both look together. You’d be jealous if you didn’t know how head over heels Vislos is for you.
The pictures turn out so good, you print all of them and frame a few of them, placing them around the apartment. You also tuck two into a box, along with a onesie that reads *1st Grandchild*. Vislos is kind enough to offer to take it to the postal office for you, and you just know you’ll soon be getting a very excited phone call.
Vislos’ parents already know the plan, and have been incredibly supportive. His father, Mr. Prathy, has been very kind, giving you answers to all of your questions, keeping you and Vislos sane, and they’ve also helped plan how to handle all of this. Even still, you send them a picture as well, along with another similar onesie. Even if they already know, you want them to be included.
Vislos comes up behind you just as you finish writing the names on the labels. His warm hands wrap around your waist, cupping your heavy middle, and you grin and lean back into him.
“Ready for bed?” he asks, setting his chin down on your shoulder. His thumbs are slowly rubbing up and down the sides of your belly and it feels so damn good.
“It’s only 9 o’clock.”
You can hear the smirk in his voice when he responds.
“More time for me to make love to my beautiful, perfect wife.”
Your heart flutters and sends warmth shooting through you. His wife. That’s what you are.
You turn around to face him, leaning back against the table and Vislos follows, leaning in closer now.
“And what if your wife doesn’t want to go to bed just yet?”
His brow raises and his lips quirk up.
“I’m flexible.”
He lifts you up onto the table then, pushing himself between your legs, and you gasp.
“This is not what I had in mind.”
He shrugs though, and trails a finger over your breast, the thin nightgown you have on doing nothing to keep your nipples from being visible.
“Are you saying you don’t want it?” he asks, looking at you as if you would be his last meal.
Heat thrums through you and you shake your head, unable to use words anymore. He just smirks and leans in, trailing his lips over your jaw. You sigh, letting your head fall back, and he takes advantage of the new space, suckling over your neck, down to your shoulder. His hands trail up your thighs, pushing the nightgown up with them, and then he’s getting on his knees, putting your thighs over his shoulders.
“Here?” you ask, breathlessly, leaning back slightly. This is probably the only time you’ll curse the swell of your middle, because you so wish you could see him right now.
He just hums, his breath so hot between your legs.
“I just want to taste you,” he mumbles, and then he’s there, pressing his tongue between your folds. Pleasure builds slow and steady, his tongue pressing in and out, occasionally swirling around your clit, and you struggle to stay upright.
“Vislos…fuck.”
He hums again, adding a finger to the mess between your legs, and your arms tremble. He pulls you closer, so you’re just barely hanging over the edge, and you fall back, arching your back into the feeling of his finger pushing in and out of you. He just keeps going, letting the pressure build and build and build, and by god you’re so close.
“Please,” you beg, unable to form other words. “Please,” you ask, hoping he knows what you’re asking for. And thankfully, he does.
He delves deeper, the sound of his tongue slipping in and out of you so loud and lewd, and he increases the pressure on your clit, circling and circling and then your thighs clench, crushing his head between them, but he keeps going.
Your gut grows so warm so fast, your nipples tingling, and then you’re lost. An orgasm rips through you, making you tremble around him, your thighs squeezing around his head, your hips bucking against his persistent tongue. It lasts so long you think you might pass out, but then it stops, and you’re gasping for breath, legs limp over his shoulders.
He rubs your thighs, kissing over the insides of them, making you twitch at the feeling.
“You okay?”
You don’t even have enough breath to respond so you huff, reaching down to grab his fingers and squeeze. He stands carefully, keeping you from falling off the table, and then you’re in his arms.
“That was intense,” you mumble into his throat, finally catching your breath.
“Good intense?” he asks, genuinely. He’s always very careful after such a big orgasm, taking care of you before continuing.
You just nod, the smile on your face evidence enough.
That night, he holds you as you push out his eggs, twelve beautifully green shelled eggs. They’re soft and pliable, empty of life, but still so important, because very soon they will be alive. And you can’t wait.
**
“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”
Vislos nods, despite his pale complexion and the small beads of sweat on his forehead. The ride to his parents is a long one, and you’ve offered to drive multiple times, but he keeps refusing. It started only a few hours in, but he started getting warm, pale, his fingers trembling around the wheel. It reminds you a little too much of how he looked when you first met each other.
“Why don’t we pull over and get some snacks or something? Your dad said you needed to stay hydrated and keep your energy up.”
He hesitates, clearly not wanting to stop, but he thinks better of it and pulls off the highway, finding a gas station, parking in one of the several empty spots.
“You stay in the car, I’ll be right back.”
He tries to argue but he can’t even muster the energy to reach across the console. It’s terrifying seeing him like this.
Inside the gas station, you start grabbing protein bars and several drinks, but you also call Mr. Prathy. Just for some assurance.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t have easy words to assuage your concerns.
“Get him some food and water. Gatorade too. Make sure he drinks all of at least one of them. His body is already trying to prepare for birth and he’s getting weak. Can you handle driving the rest of the way? We will meet you at the bottom of the mountain.”
“Yes, I can do that. I’ll call you when we get close.”
“Okay, good girl. Keep my son safe, please.”
“Yes, of course. Talk to you soon.”
You hang up and check out, your bag full of random snacks and drinks, and by the time you get back to the car, Vislos looks worse.
“Vislos? Hey, wake up.” You pat his cheek gently, his skin hot to touch.
His eyes flutter open and you frown, pulling a water out of the bag.
“Drink this. I’m going to drive the rest of the way.”
You know he feels miserable because he doesn’t even argue. You just help him walk around to the passenger side and he collapses into the seat with a soft grunt.
He lifts the water to his lips, thankfully able to do that on his own, and you hurry around the other side.
“You need to eat too. Here,” you say, opening one up for him. “Eat this.”
He takes it, to your relief, and starts eating as you pull out of the parking lot, the GPS already pointing you back to the highway.
The rest of the drive you focus half on the road and half on Vislos, monitoring his condition. The food and water seem to help him and he’s more lucid now, but every hour that passes makes his eyes droop further and further.
He’s resting, his head lulling to the side when you call Mr. Prathy back, letting him know you’re close.
“How’s he doing?”
You glance at him before responding.
“He’s eaten 4 of the protein bars I bought and had 2 waters and a gatorade. He’s still pale but he’s not trembling anymore. He’s asleep right now.”
There’s some voices in the background and Mr. Prathy responds to them before answering you.
“Let him rest. We will meet you soon. You’re doing great.”
You don’t realize how much you need the reassurance until he says that. And then you suddenly feel like you’re on the verge of tears.
“Is he gonna be okay?”
There’s a long pause, followed by another sound in the background, and then Mr. Prathy sighs softly.
“He will be. He’s strong. Just keep him alive until you get here.”
You just nod, unable to form any more words through the lump in your throat.
**
Mr. Prathy is waiting for you as soon as you pull onto the road that leads to their house. You put the car in park and he’s there in seconds, checking on his son.
“Vislos? Can you hear me? Wake up son.”
You watch, unable to move, barely able to breathe. Vislos is slow to respond, his words slurred, and your nerves are shot to hell.
“Is he okay?” You ask, nearly begging.
Mr. Prathy doesn’t answer, his brow furrowed. He pats Vislos’ cheek, waking him up again, and you struggle to hold back your tears. Vislos’ mom comes up to your side of the car, distracting you long enough to get you in the back seat. All you can do is watch.
“He’s out of it. We need to go.” Mr. Prathy gets into the backseat just as the car starts moving, and then he’s between the front seats, holding Vislos’ head steady.
“Stay with me son. Dad’s here.”
You’re numb, unable to speak or move or anything…
“...okay? Love, look at me.”
You blink, not even realizing Mr. Prathy is speaking to you.
“He’s rough but he’ll pull through. You did a good job getting him here.”
You want to sob, to break down, but Mr. Prathy is so sure that everything is going to be fine, and you believe him.
“He still needs to lay the egg, and his body will know what to do. Are you sure you’re okay?”
You wipe your face and nod, determined to make sure Vislos is ok.
“Good. My son chose very well. You’ll make him happy.”
Tears prick at your eyes again but you blink them away, focusing instead on Vislos.
He’s not as pale anymore, thankfully. Probably because of Mr. Prathy sharing his energy with him. He’d once explained it to you but human terms weren’t exactly comparable to the terms he wanted to use, so you didn’t really understand a lot of it.
The part you do know though is that this process is usually better handled with a lot of people, hence the trip up here in the first place. Mr. Prathy had expected some complications due to Vislos’ half human genes, but watching him now, you’re not entirely sure he thought it would be this bad.
The rest of the car ride is quiet, occasionally broken by Mr. Prathy checking in with Vislos, and by the time the car pulls up in front of the house, Vislos is talking in full sentences again. Still pale, still shaky, but not out of it.
You’re helped out of the car by Vislos’ mom, and then Eze and Uma come running down the driveway, helping Vislos stand up. Uma’s smaller form is nearly swallowed by Vislos’ size but he’s stronger than he seems, not even stumbling under his older brother’s weight. They carry him inside, and Mr. Prathy hurries after them, looking a little pale himself.
“Come on, love. Let’s get you inside.”
You nod and follow, the stress of the last several hours starting to catch up with you.
Inside, Vislos is on the couch, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Eze is right next to him, talking to him softly, concern written all over his face for his brother. Uma has his head resting on Vislos’ shoulder, one arm wrapped around his back. The genuine concern and care they show for each other nearly makes you cry again.
Mr. Prathy comes back from the kitchen, wet washcloth in hand.
“Don’t wait any longer. You may be feeling better now, but it won’t last. You need to do this while your energy is up.”
Despite the gentle authority in his voice, you can still hear the fear just under it. The realization that they could lose their son. You may love Vislos, but they’ve known him his whole life.
You don’t want to think about it anymore.
Careful hands pull you from your thoughts, drawing you back to the situation at hand.
“We’ll leave you two to handle this. We won’t be far though. Call us if anything happens, okay?”
You nod, watching Vislos’ mom pull away, moving to grab Mr. Prathy and head towards the back bedroom. Eze puts his forehead to Vislos’, whispering something you can’t hear, and Vislos nods. Uma is hesitant to leave, but Vislos gives him a lazy smile, reassuring him. And damn if he’s not still insanely attractive, even when he’s unwell.
The room is suddenly empty, except for you and Vislos, and you look at him, stiff and uncomfortable looking on the couch. He gives you a small smile and holds a hand out, which you take instantly, climbing into his lap.
“This is not how this was supposed to go.”
Vislos shakes his head, his hands moving around your waist, his thumbs slipping under your shirt.
“No. But it’ll be a fun story to tell.”
You frown down at him.
“That’s not funny.”
He chuckles, his eyes bright despite the fever running through him.
“I thought it was.”
If he wasn’t so miserable, you’d slap him.
“Stop making bad jokes and tell me what you need me to do. You’ve waited long enough.”
His smile fades a bit, his eyes pinched slightly.
“I don’t think I can move. Are you ok on the couch?”
You nod then hesitate.
“What if we ruin their couch?”
Vislos huffs, letting his head fall back against the couch cushion.
“I’m sure they won’t mind us ruining their couch if it means I am alive.”
“Fair point,” you mutter, crawling off his lap.
There’s already a comforter and pillows laid out in the area, so you lay a blanket over the back of the couch at least, so you can grab it if needed.
“Can you help me get my pants off?”
You nod, doing just that. He lifts his hips and you pull his sweatpants down, tossing them somewhere on the floor.
“This feels like deja vu,” you whisper, stripping out of your own clothes and crawling back into his lap, naked.
His eyes rake up and down over your body, appreciating the view and you can’t help but enjoy it.
“At least this time, you’re my wife and not the hot stranger next door.”
You raise a brow at that.
“You thought I was hot? I didn’t even know you noticed me.”
He grins, his hands shifting over your waist and down to grab your ass, squeezing.
“How could I not? You weren’t exactly subtle.”
The sudden realization that he knew exactly what you’d been doing all that time ago…
“You asshole! You should’ve told me about that!”
He huffs, a gorgeously playful look on his face.
“And risk you leaving me out of embarrassment? Never.”
“That is not fair.”
He winks, squeezing your waist.
“I know.”
You shake your head, shifting slightly so you’re sitting more on his lap.
“You’re lucky I love you,” you grumble.
He nods, serious now, his thumbs making small circles on your ribs.
“I am. So very lucky.”
The feelings he holds for you are so plain on his face, you can’t help but lean in and kiss him, wanting to taste him. And he doesn’t hesitate to do the same, his lips locking with yours, his fingers moving all over your bare skin.
His tentacle starts to wiggle between your legs, so incredibly warm.
“Is it time?” you ask, breathless as you pull away.
He lets out a muffled groan, nodding.
Excitement, fear, anxiety…it all twists inside you, making you nervous. But for everything, you’re so excited for this. It’s what you’ve always wanted.
“Let’s have a baby,” you whisper in his ear, nipping at his earlobe. He lets out a broken moan and his hands are a vice on your waist.
You kiss over his neck, finding that one spot that always makes him squirm, and you feel his hips buck up into you, his tentacle a steady pressure between your legs.
It feels just as amazing as usual, but it’s so much warmer. Nearly searing. So is Vislos’ face.
Everything about him is hot right now, but you’re mostly concerned about the pale complexion starting to come back.
“Just breathe baby, I’m right here.”
Vislos’ eyes flutter open and he looks up at you. His eyes are glossy and unfocused, but his fingers squeeze you, letting you know he’s still here with you.
You lean in, putting your forehead to his, and just let him do his thing. You stretch around his tentacle fairly easily, at least until it starts getting to the base. It’s bigger and stiffer than usual, but despite the slight discomfort, it still feels amazing.
“You’re doing great, baby,” you whisper softly, kissing over his temple, holding him close. His breath brushes over your throat, his chest heaving slightly. You reach for a bottle of water from the end table and he accepts it when you put it to his lips.
His fingers flex and then squeeze, his hips stuttering and you hear his pained gasp. Bottle of water forgotten, he puts his forehead to your shoulder, trembling heavily. You keep running your fingers through his hair, whispering encouragement every now and then.
It gets so hot between your legs suddenly that you gasp, fingers tightening in his hair on accident. He whimpers, his abs twitching. It feels like an iron rod is branding you, searing your insides and marking you as his, which is not something you mind at all. And then it starts expanding, spreading you open.
“That is so much bigger than usual,” you gasp out, looking down between you and him. Pleasure courses through you even as Vislos struggles, his shoulders so tense.
“You ok,” you ask softly, squeezing the back of his neck.
He nods, barely perceptible, and you let him focus. He’s getting pale again, more beads of sweat starting to gather on his brow. The tremble in his fingers is more pronounced now and you can tell he’s running out of energy. Fast.
“Want me to call your family back? You don’t look good.”
He lets out a pained gasp, his head falling to your chest, nestled just above your breasts. “I’m close. Just give me a few more minutes.”
You hesitate but eventually nod, respecting his wishes. You cradle his head, holding him as he tenses up, his mouth falling open on a silent scream as the egg pushes through him and into you. It’s so heavy and thick, feeling like a damn bowling ball forcing its way inside you.
It gets stuck for a moment, both of you tense and struggling to breathe, and then it suddenly shifts, slipping into you and all the way through to your cervix. You watch in awe as your stomach gains a little pouch, smaller than the usual batches of eggs, but still noticeable.
“You did it, baby! You did so well.”
Vislos shudders, breathing heavily. He looks up at you, barely mustering up a small smile before his eyes roll back into the back of his head. His body goes completely limp.
Panic sets in and you lean forward to cup his cheeks.
“Vislos? Hey, wake up! Mr. Prathy!” you cry out, and footsteps come running instantly.
It’s a flurry of movement, too many people, not enough space, and soon Mr. Prathy, Eze, and Uma are all gathered around Vislos, wiping his face and talking softly to each other.
Vislos’ mom wraps a fluffy robe around you, covering your naked form, and you break down sobbing in her arms. She just holds you close, comforting you while watching her husband and sons.
**
You wake in a daze, a heavy weight in your middle. The room swirls around you, the lamp on the bedside table barely illuminating the room.
Gentle hands settle on your shoulders and you blink up at Uma.
“Hey, sleepyhead. How are you feeling?”
You groan, letting your head fall back to the pillow, covering your face.
“Like I got hit by a freight train. How’s Vislos?”
Uma hums, pulling your hand away from your face to offer a glass of water.
“He’s sleeping still. But Dad says he’ll be ok. Mom is with him now. She sent me to wake you up and see how you were doing.”
The relief that bowls through you nearly puts you right back to sleep.
“Can I see him?”
Uma nods, slipping off the edge of the bed.
“Of course. He’s in the living room. I’ll get you some food.”
You’re so incredibly thankful for Vislos and his family. They have never once made you feel like an outsider.
You slip out of the bed, surprised to find you’re dressed in your pajamas, but grateful nonetheless. At least you weren’t naked around his family anymore.
There’s a small lamp on in the living room but it hardly gives off enough light. You can just barely make out the outline of Vislos’ mom sitting up on the couch. You slip into the room quietly, moving to the front of the couch to find Vislos snoring softly, his head laying in his mom’s lap. Eze is passed out sitting on the floor, leaning back against the end of the couch, a hand on Vislos’ ankle. His mom sets her books down, and runs her fingers through Vislos’ hair.
“Hi love,” she says softly, giving you a smile.
You smile back at her, happy to see Vislos is really just sleeping soundly.
“How is he?” you ask quietly, not wanting to disturb them.
She smiles down at you as you settle down next to the couch, setting a hand on Vislos’ curled fingers.
“Much better now. He woke up about an hour ago to make sure you were alright and then he passed out again. It will take him some time to recover, but he’ll be fine.”
You nod, pulling his fingers to your lips.
“Where is Mr. Prathy?”
“Sleeping. He overdid himself, even if he won’t admit it. Eze took over a few hours ago, making sure Vislos had enough energy to recover.”
“I’m sorry we caused such a stir. I didn’t know it would be so…scary.”
She laughs softly, still running her fingers through Vislos’ hair.
“Kids will scare you, whether they’re human or not. It’s just how it goes. It took me forever to even convince Prathy to try. I think he was worried something like this would happen to us. But we didn’t have the help Vislos has now.”
You lean into the couch, still holding Vislos’ hand.
“Was it hard? To adapt to having non-human kids?”
She hums softly.
“Of course it was. I think you’ll find that there’s an adjustment that comes with any big change like this. But Prathy and I worked together, and we figured it out. Just like you and Vislos will. I’m sure of it.”
Her words help ease some of the anxiety looping around in your brain. At least for now.
Footsteps sound behind you and Uma appears from the kitchen, holding a plate and what looks like a glass of orange juice.
“Here, you should eat.”
You take the plate and thank him, devouring the sandwich so quickly he chuckles and gets up to make you another one without you having to ask. You’re halfway through the second sandwich when Vislos wakes up, his eyes fluttering open.
You nearly choke on your food in your attempt to talk to him.
“Baby, hi,” you whisper, still coughing from the sandwich going down the wrong pipe.
Vislos groans softly, rubbing his face.
“Hi.” His voice sounds worse than yours. Like he’s been gargling razor blades.
He looks around, seeing Eze on the floor, then his mom behind him, and he sighs.
“How long have I been out?”
“A little over 24 hours. Do you want to sit up?”
He groans but nods, lightly kicking Eze’s hand off his ankle, waking Eze from his sleep.
He wavers slightly when he sits up, but he doesn’t pass out again. Thankfully.
“I need to go check on your father. Don’t stand up too fast, and make sure you eat something. Uma!” his mom calls, drawing Uma out of the kitchen.
“Make your brother a sandwich or two, and put some in the fridge for your dad.”
Uma nods, doing just that. Eze groans, standing up off the floor, stretching.
“Remind me never to sleep on the floor again. My back is going to hate me for that.”
"No one asked you to do that. In case you decide to blame me for this later.”
Eze chuckles, patting Vislos on the back softly.
“I only have one twin. You can’t get rid of me that easily. But I swear to god if you scare me like that again, I’ll kill you myself.”
Vislos smirks, slapping Eze’s arm off his shoulder.
“Good luck with that. You couldn’t beat me and you know it.”
“Right now, you’re a pretty easy target,” Eze says grinning, lightly slapping the back of Vislos’ head.
Vislos huffs and slaps his hand away, and then Eze turns to you, still grinning.
“Take care of my brother. He’s not good at doing that for himself, apparently.”
“Shut up, Eze. Go eat something before you pass out,” Vislos interrupts before you can even try to answer.
Eze gives him a mock salute and then disappears into the kitchen, now quarreling with Uma if the noise echoing from the kitchen is anything to go by.
Vislos still looks tired, but he has a light in his eyes now, one that was definitely not there yesterday.
“Are you sure you’re feeling better?” you ask, still scared he might keel over.
He looks back at you and nods, pulling you up onto the couch, tucking you up against his side.
“Much better. How are you feeling?” he asks softly, his large hand settling over your stomach.
“Surprisingly amazing, despite everything. I can’t believe we really did it. We’re having a baby.”
“We are,” Vislos agrees, his grin dazzling. He leans in for a kiss and you accept, so thankful to see him back in a playful mood and no longer on death’s door.
“No more scaring me like that, okay?”
Vislos pulls away and nods, serious again.
“I promise. I shouldn’t have waited so long. Next time, we’ll be better prepared.”
You raise a brow.
“Next time?”
He just huffs, a smirk forming on his lips.
“Of course. I expect at least a family of 10.”
“Ha. I think your brain is still scrambled. Try that again.”
He rolls his eyes but kisses your forehead, making a big wet noise as he pulls away.
“I guess I can settle for 5.”
You can’t hold back your laugh anymore, and it feels so good to relax and fall back into your familiar rhythm with him. His face softens and he cups your cheek, caressing it.
“I love your laugh.”
You roll your eyes but lean in, putting a kiss to his temple and then pull away.
“I love you. All of you. Let’s go to bed.”
His eyes glitter up at you as you stand, and he doesn’t put up any fight as he follows you down the hall to his old bedroom, the same one you share every time you visit.
Both of you fall asleep in seconds, his arm wrapped around you, his hand protectively covering your belly. And it’s probably the best sleep you’ve had in a while.
**
“Emma Grace, get down from there!”
You watch in horror as your 4 year old daughter dangles precariously from the tree in the front yard, far too high up for your liking.
Vislos, the ass, plucks her up out of the tree and blows raspberries into her belly, making her squeal.
“How did she even get up there?” you ask, exasperated. Vislos is an amazing father, and always will be, but sometimes you wondered where his brain was.
“I put her up there. She said she wanted to go high. Isn’t that right, baby girl?”
Emma Grace nods emphatically, her blonde curls bouncing on her head. Her dress is absolutely ruined, and she has a scrape on her knee, but you suppose it could be worse. At least the dress can be washed.
“Ok well next time, don’t let me find out. I can’t handle that.”
Vislos chuckles and nods, kissing your cheek and getting Emma Grace to do that same.
“You heard Mommy. Next time, we won't tell her you went high!” he says, just as he tosses her up into the air, making her squeal and giggle all over again.
You roll your eyes and shake your head, but…it’s endearing. She loves him so much. And so do you.
“How’s Levi? Did he finally go to sleep?”
You nod, accepting his arm around your waist, heading back to the house. Emma Grace scrambles out of his arms and takes off, nearly tripping over her feet at the foot of the stairs.
“He passed out about 30 minutes ago, milk drunk and with a clean diaper. Your mom is watching him.”
Vislos nods, grinning, lazily pressing you up against the stair railing.
“Guess that means we can have some alone time, huh? I haven’t had you to myself in too long.”
You grin, looking up at him, his eyes glittering.
“The last time you said that, you convinced me to have another baby.” The very baby currently stretching out your belly, pressing up against Vislos’ abs.
He smirks, leaning in. “And you look very beautiful carrying our newest baby.”
You slap his shoulder but it does nothing but make him nip at your ear.
“I thought we agreed on 2?” you say, but you’re distracted. He’s kissing over your neck, under your jaw, pulling your shirt to the side to mouth at your collar bone.
“I agreed to at least 2,” he mumbles, his breath hot on your skin.
“Semantics,” you grumble, his hands drifting under your shirt, cupping both sides of your heavy pregnant belly. You don’t really have much reason to fight him off. You’re enjoying it too much.
His hips press up against you and you moan, your head falling back as his lips explore further, chasing every inch of naked skin–
“Ahem.”
You pull away in a hurry, pushing Vislos off of you. He doesn’t even seem to care that you've been caught.
“Eze, my dear brother. What brings you to our neck of the woods?”
The smirk on Eze’s face is embarrassing enough.
“I just came to give my congratulations on the third child. And to let you know I’ll be heading back down the mountain soon.”
Vislos nods, stepping off the porch steps.
“Be careful. Let us know you’re safe,” Vislos says, pulling Eze in for a big hug. Eze hugs him back just as tight, his forearm muscles bulging slightly under his rolled up flannel sleeves.
“You know I will. Send me pictures of the newest little one when they arrive,” he says, this time addressing you.
You nod, smiling up at him. “Of course we will. Emma Grace is going to be so upset you’re leaving. Let me go grab her so she can say bye.”
You find her playing with her small wood-carved animals, a beautiful gift from Mr. Prathy for her 4th birthday. She takes off out the door when you tell her Eze is leaving and Eze lifts her up into his arms, spinning her around in the air.
It’s a beautiful sight, and you still think it’s a pity Eze doesn’t want any children of his own. He’d be a great father. But, alas, it’s his choice and you would never force that on him. Heaven knows you have enough children to spare.
“Ok baby girl, Uncle Ay-Yay has to go. We can call him later when he gets to his place.”
Emma Grace pouts but she doesn’t fight it when Vislos pulls her out of Eze’s arms and into his own. Her nickname for Eze still cracks you up, but it doesn’t look like it’ll change anytime soon. Not that Eze seems to mind.
“I’ll call you when I get there, okay? Love you, E.G.!”
Emma Grace responds with her own subdued response, and then Eze waves one last time.
“I’ll be back. Love you guys. Stay safe.”
Vislos comes to join you on the porch, Emma Grace sniffling in his arms, and all three of you watch Eze’s car pull away and head back down the mountain. It’s always bittersweet seeing him leave, but you know it has to be this way. It’s not like he has options here for laying.
“Come on, baby girl. Let’s go start getting dinner ready. You want to help me?”
That gets her excited again, and soon she’s forgotten all about her Uncle Ay-Yay leaving.
That night, you lay in bed, unable to sleep. Vislos snores softly behind you, his arm tucked around you as always. It’s annoying how easily he falls asleep, especially after laying a batch of eggs, but you can’t really fault him for your racing mind.
Eze leaves every other month to find someone to lay his eggs with. But unlike Vislos, he has no desire to settle down and find someone permanent. From what Vislos has told you, there’s a surprising number of kink communities that happily accept Eze. And while Vislos refuses to go into detail about it all, you can’t help but find yourself curious. Do these people have to sign an NDA? Or maybe he tells them it’s a toy? Or something else?
Every single time he leaves, you find yourself wondering about it, and when you ask Vislos, he just says he doesn’t want to talk about his brother’s sex life. Which, that’s fair you guess. Vislos knows Eze is safe, and that’s what matters to him.
You couldn’t imagine yourself being ok with that though. You’re thankful every day that Vislos wanted to settle down, that he wanted to have kids with you and make a life, despite the hardships you’ll both likely face.
Though you don’t want to admit it, having a big family sounds really nice. Especially since you were an only child growing up.
He shifts behind you, a tired hum coming from him as he kisses over your shoulder, pulling your hair out of the way.
“You okay?”
You nod, looking up at him over your shoulder. “Just thinking.”
“Anything I can help you with?”
You shake your head, smiling. “Nothing you haven’t heard before. Though, I was also thinking about the number of kids we should settle on.”
He rests his chin on your shoulder, raising a brow.
“And? What did you decide?”
“I decided,” you say softly, turning over so you can look at him fully, propping your head up on your hand. “That we should just see what happens. No plan, no set number. Just…go with the flow, and we can stop when we’re ready to stop.”
He nods, his thumb running small circles over the side of your swollen middle.
“I’m good with that. Who knows, maybe 3 is our favorite number.”
You huff, rolling your eyes. You know without a doubt that he will want at least one more after this one. He’s just insatiable like that.
“If it was up to you, we would never stop.”
He chuckles, pushing you onto your back, hovering over you.
“What can I say, I find my wife very appealing.”
He keeps you from responding by kissing you, tucking his thigh between your legs. Pleasure shoots through you at such an alarming rate you nearly cum just from that little touch.
“One more time?” you beg. “Before Levi wakes up again, and I have to feed him. Please?”
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” he answers with a grin, settling between your legs, his cock already pressing up against you through his pajama pants.
“Insatiable. I swear.”
“Only for you my love.”
You huff, but you can’t deny you crave him, nearly every day. He just does it for you, and you hope that never ends.
As he makes love to you, making you feel every ounce of pleasure you can, you think maybe…just maybe, you can have that family of 10 with him one day.
what would you say to me if i was in the delivery room, legs spread, shaking, knees pulled back to my chest? we’ve just been informed that the baby lowering into my vagina is at least 20 pounds, but you insist on a vaginal delivery… would you softly encourage me to breathe through the pain? or would you take charge, forcing my legs to stay as open as possible as you command me to push? what about when the enormous thing gets stuck, and the doctor prepares to insert forceps as a last resort? please, comfort me as he pulls the giant head out of my pussy.
breech baby, huge and overdue. my birth canal is stuffed so tight with my baby’s body that i can’t calm down. it’s only once the baby is visible that my birth team realizes just how brutal this will be, but they don’t say anything. i’m gasping with every breath and crying with every contraction, begging to be put out, please, please just give me a cesarean! i can’t take it, ohhh god…
after several extremely intense pushes i am turned over onto my hands and knees, barely able to hold my body up, but still trying fruitlessly to push the baby Out. i’m hyperventilating, only able to utter the words, “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuhh—“ before i sink into to another contraction, grunting through another pushhh… “AAAHH!! fuck, ohh god, ohh my god, it hurts! make it stop, please, please, please!!!
after that, it’s just screaming. i’m stretched so tight that the only thing i can feel besides pain is fear.
my team is gentle as they try to soothe me but it’s far too late for deescalation. realizing this, they seem to switch their tactic, possibly preparing for the worst. the doctors hands trace over me, perhaps trying to help me stretch as a last resort. another contraction descends upon me and i shriek.
my doctor speaks firmly, telling me, “this is it, deep breath in and puuush push push down into your bottom, let’s do this.”
i do, and it is terrible. i can very well feel the giant, wet pop as my baby’s legs finally shoot free, tearing me around its plump belly but staying put, legs hanging out of my destroyed vagina, the arms keeping it stuck. i groooan and whine, trying to catch my breath as my team marvels at my quick progress. very suddenly, as if snapping out of a trance, they spring into action to end my agony. in an unsteady but reassuring voice, my doctor congratulates me. “it’s a boy,” he tells me, “and he’s halfway out. try to stay calm, i’ll help you get him out.” i feel the doctors fingers enter my vagina, saying, “easy, easy, pant, there you go, almost done..” and after several seconds of excruciating pain, he tugs my baby’s arms free one after the other. his little body shifts, instantly doubling the pressure on my perineum as the weight is pulled down, but not out.
“gruuuuhhh, fuck, FUCK! head, head, PULL!!! get him out! it’s stuck, i can’t push out the headdd… ohhh god, ohh please, get my baby OUT!”
i scream in terror and pain as the doctor slips his finger inside me to dislodge the head, widening my hole in a final swipe and yanking my son out of me.
when he is placed on my chest, i’m still screaming, in shock and bleeding profusely. i see him only for a second before i black out. later, i’m told that he weighed nearly 18 pounds.
Poor little bird-folk who has a condition that makes their eggs grow unusually large. It means they almost always get egg bound and spend days laying a clutch when all their friends do it in an afternoon. It doesn't help that they're small and slight with narrow hips that strain against every huge egg.
As they get closer to laying their stomach swells up immensely, looking ridiculous on their small frame. Everyone else they know gets a regular, manageable bump in the weeks before they lay. Usually only restricting their movements in the last few days. But their stomach is huge and obvious and horribly sore for weeks. They spend almost a month too heavy to fly and by the last week they can barely walk. You would think that going through this every year would mean they're used to it, but every time they are caught off guard by how heavy and sore and uncomfortable their giant eggs make them. Their fragile pelvis wasn't made to carry so much weight. Their skin stretches so far that they start to lose feathers on their belly and red, angry stretch marks are visible on the exposed skin. It's miserable but they know the worst is still yet to come.
Their body is designed to lay quickly. Half a day of laboring, an hour of pushing and you've got a clutch. But with their eggs three or four times bigger than they should be that timeline is simply impossible. They dread those first contractions. Once they start they are trapped in a horrible storm as their body shoves the first egg down brutally hard and fast. The pressure in their hips increases ten fold. They squawk and cry, paralyzed by the intensity and trying desperately to find a position that will ease some of the pressure.
It's not long before the tip of the first egg begins to press down through their cloaca. This is when the real trouble starts. They are gripped with the urge to push. The first push begins to stretch their hole, the heavy egg bulging out the skin between their legs, the very tip visible just inside. But there is not enough space. Two, maybe three pushes should be enough for a regular egg. But their egg is so, so big. It gets stuck almost immediately. A few desperate pushes might bring it down just a bit more, enough than the stretch of their cloaca really starts to sting. But then it lodges itself and won't budge no matter how much they push.
No matter how many times they're forced to do this they are always gripped with horrible panic when they realize the egg won't move. The pain of contractions, the spasming of their stretched hole, the mind numbing pressure, all make it impossible to think. They'll thrash and scream, crying that it's stuck! It's stuck! Oh god please, it won't come! By now they know to have a healer on hand. But during their first lay they cried alone for hours, sure they were going to die.
There isn't actually much the healer can do. The bird-folk must now go through a horrible process of slow stretching. The healer takes some oil and rubs it around the rim of their hole, gently stretching the already taught skin, trying to work them open. They moan as their tortured hole is stretched. The burn is constant and terrible and they feel like they could rip open at any second. The healer stretches them and then they are forced to stand on shaking legs and hobble back and forth, bowlegged around their crowning egg. They shift their hips as best they can, trying to work the egg down. They are still beset by contractions and every few the urge to push becomes too great and they have to squat down and push. On every fourth or fifth push the egg will inch out the slightest bit more.
The progress is glacial and agonizing. They are trapped in a desperate cycle. Once they collapse from exhaustion the healer applies more oil, wedging their finger in alongside the egg and making them stretch. Then after a fruitless push or two they are dragged back to their feet. They rock and sway and squat intermittently, pushing and crying, until their legs give out once again and they slump to the ground in an exhausted heap. Then the healer approaches with more oil.
This goes on for hour after miserable hour. Slowly the egg crowns out of their tortured cloaca. The liberal application of oil and constant stretching protects them from tearing but the burn is indescribable. They are stretched so tight around something much bigger than it should be. At a certain point they go numb, their nerves unable to keep up with the stretch.
It's usually at that point that they break down completely, going limp and weeping, saying the egg will never come out, just leave them, they're too tired to push anymore. Every time they're sure this is it, it's over. They just want the pressure and the pain to end but their will is completely broken. The healer lets them cry and writhe through several contractions then hauls them up on their hands and knees, forces some water down their throat, and tells them to get pushing. It's hard but they've done it every year and this won't be the year they die on the healer's watch. Still crying and hiccuping miserably they bear down and push again.
By the next day they are usually close to the widest part of the egg. The end is in sight but still so far away. The cycles of oil, stretching, and pushing have gotten shorter and shorter. They are no longer able to stand, the egg forcing their legs too wide. It looks obscene sticking out of their hole, taking up the entire space between their legs. They alternate between squatting and rocking back and forth on their hands and knees. By now they are in a kind of trance-like state. Their world shrunk down to just the giant egg holding them brutally open. They emit a constant quiet lowing, their broken voice peaking in distress with every push.
Finally after one push they feel it, on instinct they know that one more push will get them past the widest point. They suck in a breath and push with every desperate ounce of strength left in their exhausted body. The egg moves. The pressure gives. In an almost orgasmic gush the egg bursts through and slides out of their spasming hole. They slump to the ground and sob in relief.
They get maybe an hour of rest. Then the pains return and their body starts working the next giant egg down to their hole. They're stretched now so this one will not take quite as long but they still have hours more of pushing ahead. And after that two more eggs lie in wait.
When all of the eggs are finally out they sleep for days, completely drained. The relief of finally being empty is always tainted by the knowledge that they will have to do it all again next year.
That’s it, drop into a deep squat and PUSH! It’s coming fast despite its huge size, huh? I can tell because I can see your lips and perineum distending like crazy. But I can also tell from the way your low grunts are punctuated by high yelps and squeals. You push because you have no choice, that pressure and the stinging stretch of your walls straining demand you push. So you bear down, thinking of nothing but shoving that pressure out of your cunt like a cannonball. But as you let up pushing to breathe, the horrible sensation of your bulging, stretching opening hits you all at once and you can’t help but squeal in agony. The torture is so much worse now. But you’re so close. Just a couple more hard, agonizing pushes and you’ll have the head crowning…
I'm huffing, trying to catch my breath. I'm in a low squat whimpering and panting, a head teasing my swollen opening.. I keep pushing down hard with my contractions until it's more clearly visible, bulging hugely between my spread legs.
I love the idea of birthing like 7+ babies, and it takes foreeeeever to get the first one out. It takes sooo longgggg to bring it down, I push it to a bulge so many times but it always slides back in, then it takes so many pushes and lots of waiting and panting and fighting the urge to bear down in order to stretch enough to open around the crown, then the head finally pops out, followed by a bunch of other really hard, long pushes to work the shoulders through, and once the first baby is finally out of me…
…the rest of the litter just comes barreling through with no hesitation. I don’t even get to enjoy the relief of birthing the first one because immediately the next head is driving down through my birth canal. I can’t close my legs, I’m too big to move, I’m not even consciously pushing. I bulge, crown, birth, bulge crown, birth, thrashing and screaming as the enormous litter I grew rapidly pours out of my opening with not so much as a break to breathe in between babies.
The first few seconds of this video are in my latest gushing/squirting compilation but it needed its own post. I mean look at all the fluid literally spraying from her vagina. More fluid leaks out as the doc pulls the baby. What a messy birth!
Whumpee made a mistake. They knew what they’d done the moment it happened. The way the pain had eased and the burning pressure that threatened to cave in their chest with every breath disappeared. Not that it mattered that they knew, it was already too late.
After fighting to stay alive and conscious long enough to reach safety, Whumpee had relaxed when they saw their apartment building. The tension that had been holding them upright dissipated. It drained from their body and into the ground below them.
They threw themselves forward, but it wasn’t enough. Whumpee collapsed just inside the entrance to the alley by their building. They didn’t have the strength to so much as pull themselves up against the wall to rest. Without a phone or bandages, this is where Whumpee was going to die.
It could be worse, they supposed. The pain was easing, and Whumper wasn’t there to mock them for their pitiful weakness. Relatively safe, dry except for the blood; a little cold, though that was likely from the blood loss. Not a bad place to die.
“Holy—” A voice was cursing far too close to Whumpee’s side. “—you hear me? Let me turn you over. The bleeding needs to be stopped, and I can’t help you like this.”
Whumpee tasted blood as they bit down on the inside of their cheek, teeth reopening the wounds already there and flooding their mouth. Each scream dangerously wrenched up their throat was smothered until all that was left were faint whimpers. Again and again, each new positioning of the stranger's fingers seemed to press in the key to agony.
The dull ringing in Whumpee’s ears turned to the stranger’s voice as the movement finally stopped. “Breathe. Do you understand? You need to breathe.”
Hmm. How does one breathe again? Whumpee couldn’t remember. They couldn’t figure out what they needed to do to keep their eyes open, like the stranger kept demanding. Perhaps if they rested, they would remember? Their body would breathe, blink, move, and do all the other things they could do before.
New pressure seared down their throat and filled their chest enough to make it rise. Air, precious air. Why did it hurt?
Whumpee’s eyes opened. The stranger pulled away, but they could still feel the lingering heat of the person’s lips on theirs.
They could breathe again. Whumpee intentionally pulled the filthy alleyway air into their lungs. Each twinging movement of the muscles in their chest as their chest slowly expanded to accommodate was a relief as they…
They choked. No cough could dislodge the thick fluid that filled the back of their mouth. Whumpee couldn’t force a cough even if it would help.
And the stranger saw. Their brow furrowed as they rolled Whumpee onto their side and nearly all the way to their stomach. One of their arms draped under Whumpee to support their chest and cradle their chin as they held Whumpee over a smaller, separate puddle of blood. They ignored the way Whumpee twitched and faintly pushed away from them to stick one already blood-covered finger into Whumpee’s mouth and scrape out the nearly black fluid blocking their airway.
When the stranger finally rolled Whumpee onto their back once more, the sound of squealing brakes filled the silence. “Hey! I got here as fast as I could. The first aid kit is in the back. Let’s get them in.”
The next thing Whumpee knew, they were loaded into the back seat of a car. Their back rested against the stranger’s chest instead of the cushions. Gentle hands peeled at the soaked and sticky fabric of their clothes as Whumpee watched their apartment fade into the distance through the rear window. All they could do was reach toward the safety they’d lost and hope these strangers were kinder than the last person who’d tried to “help” them.
Blood spilled between whumpees fingers. One hand held their side, the other was shoving Caretaker back.
"You’re making it worse, stop fighting me!" Caretaker shouted, grabbed their shoulders. Whumpee's expression glared, but their eyes looked hurt, like they were about to burst into tears.
"I don't want your he-help, I don't trust y-"
Their eyes suddenly widened when a needle pierced their neck. The tears immediately let out, caretaker's hand shifted to their cheek as their head began to slump to the side.
"I know. I know you'll hate me when you wake up. That’s fine. Just… wake up."
