Happy Sunday, bunnies! Hope y'all are having a lovely weekend so far. I just want to share a free-for-all story that hopefully y'all enjoy reading.
Status: Complete
Word count: 2,091 words
Summary: A woman gives birth in the back row of an economy cabin over international waters.
Warnings: MDNI. 18+ only. This fic contains explicit depictions of pregnancy, labor, and birth. Unassisted in-flight birth, graphic crowning and delivery, gushing fluids, concealed labor and birth in a public setting, a nursing infant, a husband who jerks off to his wife giving birth secretly in public. All characters and scenes are purely fictional. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
"Ma'am, can I get you anything? A pillow, some water?"
The flight attendant — young, neat ponytail, name tag that said Cara — was already reaching for the overhead compartment before Reggie could answer, and Reggie kept her face as composed as she could manage, which was getting harder by the minute.
"Water would be great, thank you," she said, and her voice only caught slightly on the last word because the contraction that had been building for the last thirty seconds chose that exact moment to crest, rolling through her lower back and down into her pelvis with a deep, grinding force that made her press her thighs together under the blanket.
Cara set the cup on the tray and moved on down the aisle without a second glance, and Reggie let out the breath she'd been holding in a long, controlled stream. "Hoo... hoo hoo... hhhh."
"How far apart now?" Dax asked from the aisle seat beside her, not looking up from his phone.
"A minute forty," she said through her teeth. "Maybe less."
He set the phone face-down on his thigh and turned to look at her then, and she knew that look. She'd known it for twenty years, had catalogued every version of it, and this particular version had nothing to do with worry.
His eyes moved from her face down to the enormous, low-hanging globe of her belly, round and gravid and pressing heavily into her lap even with her knees drawn up as far as the seat would allow, and something in his expression settled into that private, focused attention that made her want to hit him and also made her stomach flip despite everything.
"You're fine," he said.
"I know I'm fine," Reggie said. "I'm just telling you how close I am."
Three rows ahead of them, their older three were out cold in a heap of travel pillows, the eldest with her mouth open and her neck at an angle that was going to hurt later. Nobody back here was awake.
The nearest passengers were a row up on the opposite side, both wearing noise-canceling headphones, completely sealed off from the world. The back of the cabin was dim and close and, for the moment, theirs.
“I knew we shouldn’t have flown to see your mother.” Reggie said bitterly through another tightening.
Theo stirred against her side and she guided him back to her breast without thinking about it, and he latched and settled immediately, his fat fist curling against her with the total confidence of someone who had never once in his eleven months worried about anything.
"Get the leggings down," Dax said with a wry smile.
Reggie stared at him. "We are in economy, lest you forget."
"And you are about to have a baby in economy," he said so calmly, it’s getting into her nerves, "so get the leggings down and keep the blanket over your lap, and nobody is going to see anything."
She hated that he was right.
She hated it with a specific, well-worn bitterness that had been accumulating since the seventh month when he'd first floated this whole scenario as though it were perfectly reasonable, but hating it didn't change the fact that not only their fifth baby currently lodged in her pelvis had a non-negotiable opinion about its arrival but she also deep inside love this whole idea.
She worked the leggings and her underwear down her thighs in the cramped space, shifting her hips, and got them free of one ankle and bunched around the other before she pulled the blanket back over herself.
She pressed her palm between her thighs and felt the swollen, taut heat of herself, her labia already full, bulging and aching, the baby's head bearing down so far into the birth canal that even the light pressure of her own hand sent a sharp wave of sensation flooding up through her core.
"It's right there," she said, and her voice had gone very low. "Dax. The head is about to come…hoooo–hooo hooo hoooo–”
He reached over and lifted the edge of the blanket just long enough to look, and she watched his jaw tighten in a way that had nothing to do with alarm.
"Yeah," he said, and let the blanket fall back. "It is." He grabbed his own blanket and set it over his thighs, too, trying to cover is growing bulge there, too.
The next contraction didn't give her a warning.
It arrived hard and low, seizing her from the base of her spine and driving straight down with a force that shoved the baby’s fat head forward against her hand, and she crammed her face into Dax's upper arm and bit down on the sound that tore up her throat.
"MMMPHH — nnHH — oh god —hooooooooo–hooo hooo hoooo–" She ground her teeth into his sleeve, her fingers pressing desperately against her vulva, feeling the head surge against them with every pulse of the contraction. Her perineum burned, already stretching, the whole front wall of her vagina pushing outward. "HhhhNNGH — Dax, it's pushing through, I can feel it pushing —"
"Don't fight it," he said, low in her ear.
"I'm trying to slow it down, if I just —" She shifted her hips and immediately regretted it because the movement brought the baby down another fraction and the pressure from her movement and the toddler she was carrying went from enormous to total. "HHMMPHH — okay, okay —hoooo hoooo hooooooo—"
"Stop trying to slow it down, Reggie."
"There are people on this plane," she hissed, lifting her face just long enough to say it.
"Half of them are asleep and the other half have their headphones in," he said, perfectly level.
She pressed her face back into his arm and bore down because her body had already made that decision, and she felt her labia spread around the advancing head, felt the deep hot stretch of her perineum pulling taut as the baby worked through her cervix and down through the last of the birth canal with the focused, patient insistence of a fifth child who had done this before.
"HhhhNNNGGH — MMPHHH —" The sounds came out in bursts against his sleeve, each one half-swallowed, pressed into the warm bulk of his arm. Her free hand fisted into the blanket. "It's coming through, I feel it coming through —"
"I know you do," he said, and his hand came up to press against the back of her neck, heavy and unhurried. His breathing had changed, she could hear it, the way it had gone slightly uneven, and she knew exactly what that meant.
"You are such an ass," she breathed into his arm.
"Head down," he said.
She put her head down on his arm.
Her palm cupped against herself felt the shift — the teardrop shape of the head pressing outward between her folds, small and firm and wet, pushing against the stretched ring of her labia with a force that made her clitoris ache from the inside out. The skin of her perineum was pulling to its absolute limit, and amniotic fluid was already leaking steadily over her fingers and soaking into her leggings beneath her.
"HHhhNNGH — MMMPHHHH —" She pushed into the next contraction, long and grinding, and felt the head advance another fraction and hold, lodged at its widest point with her labia stretched in a burning, stinging ring around the crown. "Ohhhh — MMPHHH — it burns, it burns so much —"
"Breathe through it," Dax said.
"Hoo hoo hoo — hhh — hoo hoo —" She panted through the worst of the stretch, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes from the sheer searing heat of it, her fingers spread wide against her perineum to ease what pressure she could. Her vulva was swollen and flushed and stretched fully open around the baby's skull, the shape of the head clearly visible to her own touch, every ridge and curve of it pressing against the taut walls of her vagina as it inched forward.
Through it all, her toddler suckled and slept, milk-drunk, it seems, on her engorged breasts.
Down the aisle, Cara passed through again with a drinks trolley and Reggie felt her go past without looking up, face pressed into Dax's arm, the blanket pulled high, breathing in hard controlled bursts through her nose.
Cara paused.
"Is she alright?" she asked Dax, keeping her voice low.
"Migraine," Dax said, without missing a beat. "She gets them on long flights. She just needs to stay still and keep her eyes closed."
A brief pause, and then the trolley moved on.
Reggie would have laughed if there had been any breath left in her body to do it with, but another contraction rolled in on the heels of the last one and she pushed, hard, bearing down with everything she had left, and felt the head inch forward into a full crown — fully out, fully free, sitting heavy and wet and slick in her cupped hand with amniotic fluid running in a warm, gushing stream down her inner thighs and pooling in the leggings beneath her, catching on the hem of the blanket.
"HHNNNN — MMMPHHHH —" The sound tore out of her muffled and desperate, her whole body trembling, and she felt Dax's hand press harder against the back of her neck. "Haaaahh — haaaah — okay — okay, the head is out, Dax, the head is —"
"I know," he said. "Keep going." at this point, he looked around and brought a hand under his blanket to reach inside his sweatpants, giving his hard and leaking cock a few pumps.
She snorted at what he did but bit her lip and stroked her thumb over the wet hair plastered against the skull between her legs, feeling the baby shift and rotate under her fingers, the presenting shoulder turning into position.
She knew this feeling. She loved this feeling, even now, even here, pressed into the back row of an economy cabin thirty thousand feet over the Pacific with her husband's arm as the only thing keeping her from making a sound that would wake every sleeping passenger from here to the galley.
She genuinely, in her bones, loved this.
“Dax,” she whispered hoarsely, and he looked down on her, eyes glossed over, hand pumping himself as discreetly as he can.
“Yeah, babe?”
“Kiss me…”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He leaned down and kissed his wife as he continued to pump himself, feeling his balls start to tighten a bit as they made out.
The next contraction built and she pushed into it, and the first shoulder eased through with a long, wet, squelching resistance that pulled a sharp, muffled cry from her throat.
"HHNN — MMPHHH — there — that's it —"
“Let me see, Reg.” He tells her and she sat back and slightly lifted the blanket just enough for him to see it.
“There you go—Mmmmpphhh—haaaaaah–hooo hooo hooo–”
One more push, shorter and decisive, and the second shoulder came free with a slick, gushing rush, and then the rest of the baby slid out into her waiting hands in a warm, wet flood of fluid and relief, trailing the last of the amniotic sac, and Reggie pulled her daughter up against her chest under the blanket and held her there, next to the nursing toddler.
Dax made a grunting sound as he came into the blanket draped over him.
“F–fuck yeah…”
Cara came back through with a stack of napkins six minutes later and stopped at their row again, looking at the blanket-covered situation with eyes that had gone rather wide.
"Oh my god," she said, keeping her voice very low. "Is that — did she just —"
"She did," Dax said, entirely unbothered.
Cara stood very still for a moment. Then she said, "I'm going to get the first aid kit and the senior attendant, and I'm going to need you to not move," and she was gone before Dax could answer.
Reggie looked at the babies on her, one toddler now milk-drunk and deeply asleep and the newborn just latching, her hair sticking to her forehead, her new daughter warm and breathing against her chest.
"You know she's going to file a report," Reggie said.
"Probably," Dax agreed.
Reggie looked down at the babies, then back up at her husband, and she laughed — short and exhausted and completely helpless, the sound muffled quickly against the top of her daughter's head.
"You are so lucky I actually love doing this," she said.
Dax's mouth curved, slow and satisfied. "I know," he said. “I can’t wait for us to do it again.”
-fin
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The first contraction hit Penelope in her dressing room, three hours before curtain.
She was thirty-four years old, twenty-two weeks into a run that had already made her a legend on Broadway, and thirty-nine weeks pregnant with a child who had apparently decided that opening night of the winter gala was the perfect time to arrive.
Penelope braced herself against the mirror, her painted mouth falling open as the wave rolled through her lower back and wrapped around her abdomen like a fist. She counted. Thirty seconds. Forty-five. Fifty-two. Then it released, and she sagged forward, her forehead touching her own reflection.
"No," she whispered to the baby. "Not yet. Mommy has a show to do."
The second contraction came twelve minutes later. Then eleven. Then nine.
By the time she walked to the wings for her first entrance, they were seven minutes apart, and she had already decided that she was not leaving this theater until she had sung every note, hit every mark, and taken every bow.
She told no one.
The overture swelled. The lights dimmed. Penelope stepped into the spotlight like she had done two hundred and forty-seven times before, except tonight her spine was a live wire and her thighs were slick with sweat beneath the heavy satin of her costume.
She opened her mouth and sang.
The first number was an ensemble piece, twelve minutes of choreography and harmonies that usually felt like a warm embrace. Tonight, every step sent a shock through her pelvis. Every high note required her to breathe through the dull, persistent ache that had settled into her hips like a second skeleton.
But her voice held. Clear. Pure. The microphone stayed hot.
Then, during the dialogue scene that followed, the third contraction began.
Penelope was center stage, delivering a line about love and loss, when the pressure started to build. She felt it first as a tightening, then as a wall, then as a fire that climbed up her spine and squeezed until she could not draw breath.
She had four seconds before her next line.
She turned upstage, facing the painted backdrop of a Parisian street, and let her body curve inward. Her hand found the nearest prop, a porcelain vase, and gripped it until her knuckles went white. The contraction peaked. Her vision blurred at the edges. And somewhere in the orchestra pit, the conductor raised his baton for her cue.
Penelope turned back to the audience. She smiled. She opened her mouth.
And the tremor in her voice was so perfect, so achingly vulnerable, that several critics in the front row made notes about her "raw emotional commitment."
The contraction lasted ninety-three seconds. She sang through every second of it.
Act One was a gauntlet.
By the time she reached her solo ballad, the contractions were five minutes apart and lasting well over a minute each. She had mapped the backstage area like a battlefield: the alcove behind the grand staircase where she could brace against the wall, the narrow corridor by the fly system where no one ever walked, the dark corner near the props table where she had already doubled over three times.
Between scenes, she ran to these places and breathed. Open-mouthed, low-throated sounds that she swallowed into her chest so no one would hear. She gripped the nearest surface, a pipe, a railing, a stack of sandbags, and let her body do what it needed to do. Then she straightened her costume, wiped her face, and walked back onto the stage like a woman who had never known pain.
The baby was low now. So low. Penelope could feel the head pressing against her cervix with every step, a blunt, insistent pressure that made her want to bear down. She resisted. She clenched every muscle in her lower body and held the baby inside through sheer force of will.
During the second act, something changed.
She was in the middle of a duet with her male lead, a soaring love song that required her to hold a high C for eight full beats, when the contraction hit without warning. No build. No slow rise. Just a sudden, catastrophic tightening that made her gasp into the microphone.
She pulled the mic away from her mouth. The sound cut out. The audience heard nothing.
But the tenor standing three feet from her heard everything. He saw her face go gray. He saw the sweat break across her hairline. He saw her free hand fly to her belly and clutch at the fabric of her dress like she was trying to tear it open.
"Penelope?" he whispered, barely audible over the orchestra.
She shook her head. Once. Sharp.
Then she brought the microphone back to her lips and finished the note. Held it. Held it. Held it until the contraction finally released and she could breathe again.
The audience applauded. They thought the tremor in her voice was artistry.
They did not know that between the third and fourth verses, Penelope had felt her water break.
The fluid ran down her legs in a warm rush, soaking through her tights and pooling inside her character's satin slippers. She stood in a puddle of amniotic fluid on the stage of a Broadway theater, singing about forever, and did not miss a single word.
The smell hit her first, sweet and metallic, unmistakable. Then the pressure. Without the cushion of fluid, the baby's head settled directly against her pelvic floor, and every step became a battle against the urge to push.
She could feel the baby descending. Inch by inch. Millimeter by millimeter. Her body was trying to expel this child whether she was ready or not.
"Not yet," she hissed under her breath, between verses, when the microphone was dark. "Just a little longer. Just until the curtain call."
The tenor looked at her with wide eyes. She glared back at him until he looked away.
The final number was a triumph.
Penelope had never sung better in her life. The pain had stripped away every layer of artifice, every technical consideration, every careful calculation. What came out of her mouth was pure, unguarded, primal. The audience was on their feet before she hit the last note.
She held the final chord for sixteen beats. The orchestra swelled around her. The lights blazed. And somewhere deep in her pelvis, her baby crowned.
She felt it happen. The ring of fire, that's what the books called it, but it was more like being split open from the inside. Her tissues stretched, burned, gave way. The head emerged just enough for her to feel the shape of it, the hardness of the skull, the wet slide of skin against skin.
And then she clenched every muscle in her body and held it there.
The baby's head was coming out. She could not take another step, could not bend, could not do anything but stand frozen in the center of the stage with a child's skull between her legs and a thousand people screaming for more.
She smiled.
She bowed.
She held the bow for three full seconds longer than usual, because she was afraid that if she straightened up, she would drop the baby onto the floorboards.
The curtain fell.
The applause continued.
And Penelope turned and walked into the wings.
The moment she crossed the threshold, she stopped pretending. Her body took over. She bent her knees, dropped into a deep squat, and let go of every muscle she had been clenching for the past two hours.
The baby slid.
Not fast. Not easily. But with a relentless, grinding pressure that tore a sound from her throat, not a scream exactly, but something close. A roar. A battle cry. The sound of a woman who had just spent four hours defying biology and was done apologizing for it.
"Someone help me," she gasped. "Someone catch the baby."
The cast had followed her. Of course they had. They were crowding around her now, a circle of glittering costumes and painted faces, watching in frozen horror as their leading lady squatted on the dusty stage floor and gave birth.
Penelope was vaguely aware of them. The tenor with his mouth hanging open. The chorus girls clutching each other's hands. The stage manager shouting into a headset. But she couldn't focus on any of them because the baby was coming and it was too much and not enough and everything all at once.
She pushed.
The head emerged fully, turning as it came, and Penelope reached down with both hands and touched her child for the first time. Slippery. Hot. Alive.
She pushed again. The shoulders. The worst part, they said, and they were right. Her body screamed. Her vision went white. She bore down with everything she had left, everything she had been saving, every last scrap of strength she possessed.
And then the baby was out.
A girl. Slick and furious, screaming before she even cleared the birth canal, her tiny fists punching the air like she was already practicing for her own debut.
Penelope caught her. Pulled her to her chest. Collapsed backward onto her heels and held the baby against her heart and laughed and cried and shook all at once.
"Get back," she snarled at the cast, who had pressed in close to see. "Give me some goddamn room."
They scattered. The stage manager dropped to her knees beside Penelope with a stack of clean towels. The nurse from the front of house appeared with a medical kit. Someone had called 911. Someone else was crying.
Penelope ignored all of them.
She looked down at her daughter, who had stopped screaming and was staring up at her with unfocused, furious eyes. The baby's face was squashed and bloody. Her cord still pulsed between them. She was the most beautiful thing Penelope had ever seen.
"Hi," Penelope whispered. "I'm your mom. I'm sorry I made you wait."
The baby blinked.
And somewhere in the theater, the audience was still applauding.
The urge strikes me suddenly, pulling a ragged gasp from my throat as I rock back and forth on my hands and knees. "I-I think it's... oh, it's time to push," I grunt, sliding one hand between my thighs to press against my cunt.
There's a slight bulge there, the force of the baby's head pushing through my canal causing my labia to swell outwards. I provide counter pressure as I groan through the tail end of the contraction, fighting against the urge to bear down.
"It's coming," I pant, trailing my fingers over my red hot labia. "You're coming, baby. I feel you c-comingggg." Not even 45 seconds had passed since my last contraction, but another pain had taken hold. Starting in my back and spreading around to the front of my belly, pulled low and heavy with the pressure of the pain, the iron band grips and seizes, shoving the baby down with such power that I have to shift my hips further open to make room.
"Oh god, oh god, oh- fuckkkk." I keep my hand firmly in place, all but holding the head back as it barreled through my cunt. The pressure is unlike anything I'd ever felt, tapping into the most primal side of me. Contraction on top of contraction, I tried to groan and not scream, though the urge, much like the urge to push, was becoming unbearable. "Mmmmmphhh, GOD."
I am finally overwhelmed by my instincts and I bear down, and the baby's head surges forward and begins to emerge as a small, wet teardrop pressing against my fingertips. "Nooo," I whine, half delirious with the pain. "No, no. Not yet." I couldn't give birth yet. I couldn't give birth alone.
I drop my head, resting my chin against my heaving chest. After taking a moment to catch my breath, I brace one hand on the edge of the bed and struggle to push myself up, keeping my hand firmly over my bulging hole. My efforts amount to nothing, however, when the action of shifting my hips pushes the baby down further into the birth canal. I cant hold it back any longer. I cry out in shock, and the cry turns into a scream as the head begins to crown.
"OHHHH, IT BURNS. FFFFFUCKKKK, BURNING." I land back down on my knees and give in to the pressure, fisting the hand that isnt supporting the head into the blankets as I push, and push hard. My labia, angry and red and burning, spread to accommodate the skull, and I let out another wild scream as they begin to sting. "Coming outttt. Gotta get it OUTTTT."
A hazy fear of tearing crosses my mind, but its gone with the next contraction. As my womb squeezes down around the baby, I throw my head back and wail, bringing the head to a half crown before it slides back in. "One more. Just... one more. Oh goddddd." I grunt and feel my labia stretch around the head, feeling impossibly tight for a few seconds, and then one hefty shove brings the baby to a full crown.
I struggle to catch my breath, stroking my fingers over its soft hair. "Almost," I whisper, half to my child, and half to myself. I inhale deeply and tighten my hold on the blankets as the next contraction builds, using it to anchor myself. "Almost, almost, alm-ohhhh, here. HEREEEE. ITS COMINGGGGG MMMMMMPFFFFF-FUCKKK!"
My words become an incoherent screech as I scream through the final stretch of the ring of fire, pushing until the baby's head pops free in a torrential gush of fluid. "Come on, baby," I grunt, feeling the presenting shoulder rotate and come free. "Here you are. Oh, here."
With one last tiny push, the second shoulder pops out, and the baby slides into my hands. I hadn't needed help after all.
A few days ago, I came across a fic (or maybe it was a prompt?) about a woman giving birth sitting on her husband’s lap, and it wouldn't leave my mind. I kept thinking about how it would play out and then, eventually, I had an outline and a rough draft written.
My original characters, Carolyn and Rebecca, are featured in this segment, though you won’t learn about their backgrounds here. But they are fleshed out characters, so I will give them a proper introduction at another time if this is well received.
This is a new fantasy I have for myself if I were going to give birth one day. The characters definitely represent me and what I hope my future wife will be. Enjoy!
Ps. I've never written an original fic before, so please be gentle.
Carolyn panted through another contraction, Rebecca, her wife, holding her up. At 30, Carolyn had gone into labor with her first child on her due date, happier than ever. Exhausted but determined, her petite frame shook with effort. Her long, wavy red hair was braided, her dark blue eyes squeezed shut with concentration. Labor had started hours ago, early that spring morning before sunrise. And now, as the afternoon neared, Carolyn was already spent. With Rebecca's encouragement that their baby would soon arrive, Carolyn focused on enduring the last hours of labor.
She had discarded her birthing gown two hours into labor, pulling it over her head in frustration when her movements felt too confined. Now, in only her maternity bra and underwear, she rocked back and forth on all fours on the floor, feeling much more comfortable. Time blurred as another hour passed. Rebecca knelt behind her, sliding her hands under Carolyn’s belly to support its weight, occasionally rubbing gentle circles on her lower back. When another contraction built, Carolyn stood and reached for Rebecca’s hand, turning to face her wife as the tightening intensified. She hung loosely from her wife’s arms as she squatted down a little, swaying them from side to side.
Moments later, she released a shaky, relieved breath as the contraction faded. Lifting her head, she managed a fragile, grateful smile up at her wife—a wave of relief and deep affection crashing over her.
Rebecca returned the smile and kissed her forehead. She looked every bit like the proud wife. Her green eyes sparkled with love and devotion. “You’re doing wonderfully, darling,” she murmured.
The way Rebecca's British accent curled over the endearment sent a jolt through Carolyn’s heart. She was overwhelmed by a love so raw it almost hurt. “Thank you,” she murmured, voice thick with emotion.
“Interested in changing positions?” Rebecca asked.
Carolyn nodded briefly as another contraction rippled through her, a low gasp escaping her lips. She pressed her forehead into Rebecca’s chest, desperately seeking comfort in Rebecca’s steady arms as she was swayed gently. When it passed, Carolyn stepped back shakily, clinging to Rebecca’s forearms, her eyes searching her wife’s face, waiting for her to suggest a new position.
Rebecca supported Carolyn as she carefully eased her to the ground in front of the birthing ball. “Why don’t you try leaning on this for a bit?” she offered, steadying Carolyn by placing a hand on her back and another on her shoulder. “How’s that?”
“This will be fine for a while.” Carolyn sighed, adjusting her legs and leaning over the ball. “You need to rest your back.”
“I’m alright.”
“Don’t lie. I’ve seen you rubbing it when you aren’t tending to me…”
“I’m not the one in labor.”
“And yet, I’m handling the pain better than you are, sweetheart.” Carolyn held up her hand, which was regaining color. It had been white, not from how hard she squeezed Rebecca's hand, but from how hard her wife squeezed hers.
“Alright. But the second you feel uncomfortable, tell me.”
“I will.”
After about ten minutes on the ball, a sudden shooting pain ripped through Carolyn's belly. She yelped, and Rebecca, who had been watching closely, jumped up and knelt beside her.
“What is it?”
“That was a bad one. I can’t do this anymore. It hurts too much, it’s unbearable,” Carolyn cried out, tears pricking her eyes as she admitted her discomfort.
“Alright, darling. Let’s change that.”
Rebecca hooked her arms under Carolyn's and lifted her from the ground, moving one arm around her waist and the other holding her hand as they slowly walked across the room to the couch. Before either of them sat, Rebecca bent down and arranged a pile of towels carefully on the cushions, smoothing them out to make a thick layer in case any more fluid leaked out while Carolyn pushed. Carolyn had lost most of her amniotic fluid when her water broke earlier, but Rebecca wanted to be cautious.
Next, Rebecca crouched in front of her wife, hooked her fingers beneath the waistband of Carolyn’s underwear, and gently slid them down. She helped Carolyn step out of them one foot at a time. Standing up, Rebecca reached around Carolyn’s back, unhooked her maternity bra, and carefully slid the straps down Carolyn’s arms until the garment dropped to the floor.
Rebecca took her wife by the hand and sat down first. She gently guided Carolyn onto her lap, then told her to straddle her legs. Carolyn pressed her knees into the couch on either side of Rebecca's hips, her pregnant belly preventing her from getting too close. She wrapped her arms around Rebecca's neck and rested her head on her wife’s shoulder as she continued to labor. Rebecca braced her hands firmly across Carolyn's back to hold her steady.
When they were both situated, Rebecca said, “I should check your dilation.”
Carolyn nodded her consent, keeping her eyes closed, braced herself with one hand on the back of the couch, and slid her other hand behind herself onto Rebecca’s thigh, pressing up slightly for access.
Rebecca anchored her other hand to Carolyn's wrist as she leaned forward. She parted Carolyn’s thighs gently, then slipped her hand through the red bush of hair and carefully inserted two fingers into her wife’s entrance. Carolyn whimpered at the sensation. Rebecca paused to assess, double-checking she was correct, then slowly withdrew her fingers and wiped them clean on a towel before smiling. Carolyn lowered herself.
"You’re fully dilated, my darling,” she said quietly. “You can push.”
Carolyn lifted her head. “Really?”
Rebecca only nodded and leaned forward to kiss her on the lips. “It’s time to meet our baby.”
“Our daughter,” Carolyn responded softly, smiling a little.
“Are you ready to push?”
“I don’t feel the urge yet, but maybe I should try.”
“I think it’s worth trying. If anything feels funny or wrong, we’ll stop and wait.”
Carolyn nodded. She took a deep breath before she began to bear down. As she pushed, she whispered encouragements to her baby, urging, "Come on, little girl. We're ready to meet you."
She was quiet otherwise, numb to the pain now. Being at home brought comfort. It was a decision she'd made early in her pregnancy. Rather than a hospital delivery with medication, Carolyn would give birth to her first baby surrounded by the intimacy of her own space. Martha, their older neighbor and a retired nurse-turned-midwife, had offered support, but Carolyn and Rebecca decided the birth itself would be just the two of them. No friends. No family. No extra help. They wanted a hands-off, natural birth, trusting each other and their choices. Martha would be on call as backup if needed, but not in the room. They’d considered inviting their mothers, but realized a crowded space would overwhelm Carolyn and prevent her from laboring. Confident and supported—having talked through every possible scenario—Carolyn and Rebecca accepted the risks of an unattended birth for a meaningful experience.
So here they were, 32 weeks later, Rebecca and Carolyn at home alone, in a room they had just converted into a playroom, bringing their baby into the world. The urge to push still hadn’t come, so, to distract her wife from frustration, Rebecca gently spread Carolyn’s knees apart and reached her hand between her legs to stroke her clit.
Carolyn gasped. "Oh!" She rocked her hips forward into her wife’s hand as Rebecca pressed her thumb against her flesh, rubbing in slow circles before sliding two fingers inside again. "Yes, God, that feels so good," Carolyn moaned, her body arching to meet Rebecca’s touch. She relaxed and parted her legs further, allowing more room. "Don’t... stop," she breathed as Rebecca continued, stimulating Carolyn’s nipples with her free hand too. Martha had explained that nipple stimulation during labor helped with contractions and opening the cervix for birth. That was Rebecca’s intent: to stimulate Carolyn pleasurably, and if an orgasm or two helped bring their baby, so be it.
Carolyn rocked into her wife’s hand, her hips moving forward and back. Her breathing quickened, and she made soft, pleasurable noises while Rebecca encouraged her towards an orgasm.
“You’re so gorgeous, clenching around me.” She pinched Carolyn’s nipple., receiving another whimper from her wife. “It's alright. I’ve got you, darling."
“Yes, yes, right there. Please don’t stop,” Carolyn begged.
Rebecca nodded, pumping her fingers more quickly. “Come for me, love. Let go."
Soon, Carolyn moaned beautifully as she came, shaking from the aftershocks against her wife.
Fifteen minutes and three orgasms later, Carolyn grunted as something shifted deep inside her. The baby had descended into the birth canal. Rebecca checked and confirmed, "Her head is right there."
Gathering her resolve, Carolyn took a deep breath and pushed with all her strength. Eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back, she let out a primal growl as the baby’s head began to slowly crown.
“That’s it, Carolyn. Our baby is coming. Her head is coming.” Rebecca praised. “Push her into my hands.”
Between contractions, Carolyn panted to her daughter, "Come on, baby girl, come on. You can do it. Mummy and I want to see you.”
Another contraction followed almost immediately. Carolyn leaned back on both hands this time, bracing against Rebecca's thigh for support as she pushed herself upright. Rebecca steadied Carolyn’s wrists once more. Carolyn bore down, a deep guttural groan escaping her as she felt a burning stretch below. She held the push as long as she could, breathing heavily through her nose until, with a sudden pop, the pain began to ebb.
“Ah!” Carolyn gasped.
“Her head is out, darling,” Rebecca cheered, then exclaimed, “Oh, she has brown hair!”
“Just like her mother,” Carolyn smirked, releasing a breath as she tried to look down but couldn't see because of her distended belly.
“Here!” From somewhere, Rebecca brought a handheld mirror between Carolyn’s legs. “There she is! There’s our baby girl!”
Carolyn leaned back a bit and gazed into the mirror. “Oh, my God!” she sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks. A mixture of shock, disbelief, and overwhelming joy erupted inside her. “She—she’s really real.”
“Yes, she is, my love, and she’s ours.” Rebecca placed the mirror aside. “Come on, let’s meet her, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
A few more intense pushes and Carolyn, panting and grunting, finally gasped in relief as her daughter was born. "Oh, my God, oh, baby," she breathed, tears streaming down her face as she slumped forward while Rebecca caught their baby in her hands.
“You did it, my darling! You did it! Our daughter is here!”
Sharp, wailing cries filled the room and, for a moment, time stopped—leaving the new mothers suspended in a blur of emotions. Carolyn, shaking, reached out with quivering hands to touch her baby, terrified it was somehow a dream. Rebecca swiftly handed her the wriggling infant, tears shining in her eyes as she guided her against Carolyn's breast.
“Hello, beautiful girl! Hello!” Carolyn lifted her baby and smushed their cheeks together. “Mama’s got you.” She pressed a gentle kiss to her daughter’s tiny nose, cradling her again.
Covering their newborn with a towel, Rebecca pressed a trembling kiss to Carolyn’s wedding ring. Both women, breathless and stunned, clung to each other and their baby, the meaning of the moment nearly too much to bear.
Carolyn cradled their daughter, trembling with exhaustion and awe. Rebecca's arms held her securely, their baby nestled safely between them, a perfect blend of all their hopes and dreams.
Carolyn stared at the baby, her breath coming in shallow, disbelieving gasps. She cataloged every perfect detail: the soft tufts of dark hair, the minuscule fists tucked in tight, rosebud-red lips. Looking up, she met Rebecca’s eyes—both of them shining and wet. “She’s really here,” she whispered, voice nearly breaking. “I can’t believe it. She was part of me, and now—she’s real, in my arms.”
Rebecca cupped Carolyn's cheek, brushing a tear away. “You did it. You brought her into the world right here, with me. I am so proud of you.”
Carolyn laughed a little sob, her whole body shaking as the shock and joy mingled in her chest. “I feel like the world just turned upside down. She’s perfect.” She bent her head to place a kiss on the baby’s forehead. “And you’re right, she’s ours.”
“We’re a family.” Rebecca pressed her forehead to Carolyn's, unmoving. “Just so you know,” she whispered, “watching you give birth to our daughter on top of me is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” She nuzzled her nose against her wife’s neck, kissing behind her ear. “I hope you’ll do it again for me someday.”
Carolyn blushed with a silent nod.
They stayed there, tangled together on the couch, their daughter held safe between them, awed and overwhelmed by what they had done and by the new life they had brought into the world. After a few minutes of hushed wonder, their baby girl slowly blinked her eyes open for the first time. Both mothers marveled at the tiny miracle, but Rebecca groaned.
“She looks just like the sperm donor,” she stated, though a teasing grin was on her face. She actually adored the man. They had a mischievous friendship.
Carolyn let out a loud laugh, playfully swatting her wife. "Yes, well, the Arnold genes are quite strong."
"It's not fair that our daughter looks nothing like you after you carried her for nine months."
“She shouldn’t. She came from your egg and Maxwell’s sperm, my love," Carolyn reasoned. “Unfortunately, that means she and I don’t share DNA.”
Rebecca groaned again. “I'd much rather her look like you." She pressed a kiss to Carolyn’s brow. “My beautiful, strong wife.”
After several more quiet minutes, once their daughter's cord had stopped pulsing, Rebecca took the sterilized medical scissors from the birthing kit Martha lent them. Hands trembling with adrenaline, she carefully cut the umbilical cord, honoring their choice for delayed clamping so their baby could receive all of the blood. The moment felt momentous, their final act in welcoming their child Earthside, their family now truly beginning.
In your thirty-seventh week, this secret desire of yours gets even more intense. As Maya said, your baby dropped during one night. When you woke up, you felt it easier to breathe and that something had changed on your pelvis. When you got in front of the bathroom mirror, you saw how your belly was hanging lower. When Maya checked you a couple of days later, she assured that the child was engaged head first and everything was looking great.
You spent twelve more days in this new shape. It made you waddle around, managing the increasing weight of the now lower child and the fact of having her head deeper in your bones. People keep staring at you wherever you go, kind of wondering how a woman looking more than ready to pop is confident enough to keep a normal routine. Every time you see yourself reflected in some store window, you get kind of the same feeling. You also start getting regular Braxton Hicks contractions, which take your breath out for a moment. This, together with the constant need to pee caused by the lack of space left in you, makes the wish of this pregnancy ending turn into a need.
You have to wait, though, until being deep in the fortieth week for your labor to start. The contractions start getting more painful one given morning, coming, at the beginning, thirty minutes apart.
After the third one, you are pretty sure that you might be in labor. You then decide to get a good breakfast and take some more rest, to be ready for what’s about to come. After breakfast, you decide to take a quick shower. Naked in the bathroom, before getting in the shower, another contraction comes. You must take some deep breaths, the pain is manageable but intrusive, and you are excited to see how your belly gets tight.
After the shower, you get out of the bathroom wearing only a sports bra and panties and with your low belly getting out the lightweight robe you are wearing over them. You find Abby getting out of her room, just woken up.
“Abby, good morning, don’t freak out but I’m in labor. I’ve already had about five regular contractions.”
“Shall we make a call to Maya?”
“Oh, no. There’s still time. They are still thirty minutes apart. By now, just get yourself ready, I’m gonna try and get some more rest.”
She comes closer and grabs your exposed belly. Shortly after, without saying anything more, she leaves.
You are side-lying on your bed, trying to fall asleep, but you can’t stop the thoughts coming to your mind. Your life has already changed a lot but, in a matter of hours, you’ll have a little child to take care of. Now, this second chance in motherhood is more real than any time before. These thoughts get blurred when another contraction hits. “Hhhooofff…. hhoofff….” This one is more painful. You grab the cushion your head is resting in firmly with one hand as the other hand goes to your belly. When the tightness fades away, you check the clock. The time between contractions has now gone down to twenty minutes.
The sudden progression of the contractions is concerning. You decide to wait for another one to come to be really sure before contacting Maya, but you also decide to start being active. Abby finds you doing gentle bounces and circular hip moves on the yoga ball.
“The last contraction was twenty minutes apart. If they keep coming closer together, we’ll call Maya.” You inform her.
A minute before the twenty-minute mark, a new wave comes. “A contraction… Oooooooohhhh…” You move instinctively forward, to the floor. In your hands and knees, rocking back and forth, trying to ease the pain. Your belly stays tight around the unborn child for almost a minute, taking a strange shape, almost flat at the sides.
“Alright Mom, I’m calling Maya.” You don’t answer back, still making deep breaths. “Maya? Hi, it's Abby here, Shannon is in labor… Just a few contractions, but are coming quickly closer together… No, her waters haven't broken yet… Yes, so strong. The last one got her to the floor, she made low groans through them…” You need to be part of the conversation with Maya, so after understanding your signals, Abby adds. “Maya, I’m putting you on the speaker, so Shannon can hear you too.”
“Shannon, Abby told me the contractions are strong…” Maya asks you directly.
“Yes, they are not just gentle cramps. I have to focus completely on enduring them once they come.”
“Looks like you are in real labor, but the contractions you just described seem more like the ones you’ll get in active labor. I know it’s odd, but would you let Abby check how dilated you are? It will help me understand where you are in the process.”
“I’ll try to do it myself.” You answer. Abby will do really raw things today, but maybe penetrating her own mother is something evitable.
“Don’t forget to use gloves. Drive two fingers deep in until reaching the cervix, it will be extremely sensitive. Then gently try to feel how open it is.”
You put a glove in your right hand and, while sitting at the edge of the bed, you move it to your pussy. Getting to touch it has gotten harder as your belly grew larger above it, but you manage to get your wrist between your low bump and your slightly spread leg. Then, you push two fingers inside your pussy. Slowly but steady, deeper parts of your canal get opened as your fingers reach their destination. Once you hit your cervix, you let out a gasp, but you fight the discomfort while trying to get the answer you needed.
You get your fingers out and, before your eyes, you open them again as far apart as just have been opened inside you. Looking at the wet gloves, you say to the phone. “It looks like I’m about six centimeters dilated!” You say with both excitement and surprise.
Then a sudden contraction comes. “Aaahh… Ooooooooofffff…..” And a sudden pressure releases in your pelvis as a flush of water soaks the bed and, running down your legs, the carpet. “SHIT! My water just broke! AAAAHHH…” When the contraction is over, you check the clock. “Maya, my water just broke, and this contraction came just thirteen minutes after the last one, please come here, things are going fast.”
“Sure Shannon, I’ll get everything ready and I’ll be on my way there in a few minutes. But you two should be prepared, with the rhythm this labor is progressing and the morning traffic I’ll find on my way, I may not make it there on time. Abby, I know you’ve been learning about the birthing process, now your mother needs you to stay calmed and supportive. Shannon, you know you can do this. You are brave and more determined to have a natural birth than most of my other patients. Trust in yourself, you also know what to do, just remind yourself you're powerful.”
When the call ended, you and Abby stayed in silence for about a minute. This was not the plan, you are getting a bit anxious for the possible unassisted birth that you are about to face. Having a home birth was an experience wild enough even with a midwife to assist but a free birth seems almost crazy. You keep diving in these thoughts as the contraction fades away. Then, while you pant, trying to rest, Abby suddenly steps forward to take some control.
“Well mom, I’m gonna fill the tub for you to face this birth. I’ve read that water might help. Everything will be alright.” She kisses your forehead in a way she had never done before, she is worried about you though she is trying to stay focused, so she is behaving kind of maternal.
The following contractions keep the same accelerated rhythm with increasing pain, so it feels great to sink your body in the warm water of the tub. You lay in it, with your legs spread as wide as the walls allow you to. The baby seems definitely lower now, about to begin descending through your pelvis.
The discomfort of each pain makes you try to find positions to better handle it. You constantly change from side-lying with your back arched, to a semi reclined position with your knees far apart. Though it feels good to be in the water, you don’t like to find your instinct to spread your legs wide to be limited by little space between the walls. Also, when you are facing a contraction, the rapid breathing and the gentle back and forth moves cause the water to get too turbulent for what’s supposed to be a calmed place to be.
Abby doesn’t pay much attention to all your complaints, but she stays by your side, passing a towel over your sweaty face and forehead. Then, suddenly, a new contraction comes just a bit less than six minutes after the last one. This one brings a new sensation, an urge to bear down and push to the pain. You instinctively move both your feet out of the tub, letting them hang from the knees supported at the tub’s edge. Your hands grab your tight belly and your chin goes to your chest. “UUUUNNNNNNGGGGGGHHHHHH…”
“MOM! Are you pushing already!? You can’t!” Abby says when she realizes the change in your response to the constant contractions.
“Hof hof… I must. I need to. This baby is coming!” You reply between deep breaths, recovering from the effort of that first long push.
“Really? Are you feeling it coming?” That question has a terrible answer. In that push you haven’t felt any progress at all.
“No… I have to get back to bed. I can’t do this in the tub.” You consider that you need more freedom of movement to face the following phase of this labor.
The walk to the bed is not easy. Though you do it fast enough to not get hit by a contraction before getting to the bed, the feeling of fullness in your pelvis makes it hard to walk steadily.
Now, being on your hands and knees on the bed, the urge to push comes again. “UUNNNGGGHHHH….” With the gravity by your side, this time the baby begins its descent and it moves down through your bones. “It’s working!” You shout more from the surprise than to inform Abby.
“Alright mommy, you can do it! Keep pushing” She gets convinced that the time to push has come and decides to offer all her support.
The next contraction comes almost immediately after, or at least it's how it feels like. You tightly grab the bedsheets with your hands, but also bite them once the urge comes again. The following powerful pushes bring the baby almost at the exit of the birthing canal. Your pussy bulges in the shape of the head about to be born. And Abby can see it, a little dark teardrop shape in the middle of your folds.
“The baby is here mom! I can see it! Keep pushing, it’s almost done!”
At the next push, your pussy begins to part around the dark shape that’s forcing its way out. Each push and breath you do can be seen in it, as it seems to be beating in and out while slowly becoming larger. Push after push, the shape turns more circular. The painful burning sensation is almost unbearable, so your controlled grunts turn into loud screams. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH…. GET IT OUT!”
“Come on mom, it will be over soon. Just one last effort!”
You can't stand the pain. The baby feels about to fall off from between your legs, but it’s kept in place by your insufficiently stretched pussy. “I fucking hate you! You did this to me!” Shouting at Abby seems to distract yourself from the exhausting labor. It may not be fair but she pays no attention, understanding that your anger is not really true but a result of the pain you are clearly feeling.
“AAAAAAAAAAGGGGNNNHHHHH……” You push again when the next contraction comes. “AAAAAAGGGGGHHHH….. AAAAAAAAAH…. Ahhhhh” The baby reaches full crown and then the head pops out. “Hof…. OH, god…”
“Great mom, you did it! The head's out.”
You drive a hand to the painful spot between your legs to feel it, though it is already clear that something has appeared between your thighs.
“Alright mom, you must not push for the next contraction, or you’ll risk getting the baby stuck”
Easier said than done. The urge to push is more intense than ever, you bury your head in the bedsheets, biting them while doing quick short breaths. The whole baby’s body rotates in you as you feel the head do the same between your hands. It’s the first time you feel something more than pain, you are excited and so proud of your body, you feel powerful.
With the baby ready to be fully born, you give what you expect to be the last push. Your folds, which have quickly closed around the baby’s neck, are forced to be stretched again, to let the shoulders free and the rest of the baby to follow. You push with all your efforts, but it’s not enough and the baby comes back inside once the contraction is over.
“Mom, get upright, let gravity help you. You almost did it!”
Following her instructions, you leave your hands from the baby’s head to help yourself get upright, still on your knees. “I don’t like it. My legs are too close. UUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHHH….” Your complaints get interrupted, you instinctively raise your right leg, letting it rest just on the foot and you give your last push.
The baby comes out to Abby’s hands with a flush of fluids. Once she has it secured, you let yourself fall to your left, exhausted and joyful.
“It’s a girl mom, I have a sister!”
She gives the newborn to you. You’ve had another daughter. “Look at her, she’s perfect. What do you think about naming her Naomi?”
At that moment the bell rings. Maya has just arrived. Abby goes downstairs to open the door and soon after, she rushes in the room. Apologizing for being late, she checks Naomi and you. After shortly telling her how the birth had quickly evolved, she congratulates Abby for her job and you for your bravery.
She cuts the cord and helps you deliver the afterbirth, then, with no more significant job to do, she leaves, letting you and Abby enjoy the new member of the family.
This pregnancy had a crazy beginning, but the birth has been an unforgettable experience. Despite the pain, you had just what you wanted, a home birth. Even better, and almost unassisted birth with the only help of who had been the only important person of your life.
Even though it may have been risky to not have Maya by your side, you are grateful for having been able to deliver that quickly. You were really worried to face the same birth experience as some other mommies who shared theirs, laboring for a whole day and pushing for several hours just to bring the baby to crown.
In the following weeks, you were focused on the preparations of the move. A real estate agency has already found a couple interested in buying your house, and you have paid a deposit for another lovely house. There is a twelve-hours ride between them, so you expect it to be far enough to keep your secret.
All these preparations for moving to another town were mixed with regular visits to the doctor, the same one that confirmed your pregnancy. At these early stages, all he does is give you some general recommendations and medicines, not so different from the ones you followed in your first pregnancy.
Once everything is ready, being you at the end of your first trimester, you find yourself standing in front of your now old home. Your belly is barely starting to show, not even noticeable for anyone not knowing it, so little you even doubt it has really grown when you look at your naked figure in the bathroom’s mirror. By now, the morning sickness is the main evidence of your condition.
Abby is by your side as you take a final look at the place she grew up in. Shortly after, you start the one-way trip to a new life.
Your new house is quite similar to the last one, with the kitchen and the living room on the first floor and the bedrooms upstairs. It has an extra bedroom and the living room is a bit bigger, as the prices in this place were lower, you were able to afford this extra space and even pay some extra money for getting the first floor furnished.
You consider it the perfect place to start this new life. The living room is so cozy that the idea of a home birth easily gets into your mind. It seems the perfect thing to do. Compared to the idea of being locked in a hospital’s birthing room, where there would be a bunch of unknown nurses watching you endure the pain of labor and treating your just as “the patient of the 764”, in this place you will feel safe, being with Abby, if she agrees to, and with a midwife.
This room will become a sacred place, where you would live the most intense experience a woman can live. And you’ll be the only protagonist of that story, there won’t be other laboring mommas screaming in pain and disrupting your experience.
You keep a normal routine for about two months, doing the usual periodic visits to a new doctor, and feeling your belly grow. Then, at the beginning of your sixth month, you confess your desired birth idea to Abby.
“Are you really sure about it, mom?” She reacts quite nervously.
“I’ve been thinking about it for weeks, this is what I want.” You are determined to do it that way.
“But aren’t hospital births safer?”
“Not necessary. Look, the hospital is within a twenty-minute ride, it will always be an option if it’s needed. But a birth doesn’t need to be a medical procedure, birth is a natural process, and it’s been done at home for many centuries.”
“Yes, when there were no hospitals!”
“Abby, I understand your doubts. I’ve had them myself. Why don’t we do this? I’m planning to meet with a midwife, you can come, let’s see what she tells us.”
She ends up agreeing, telling that she would accompany you to that visit anyway. The midwife you’re meeting is a young woman named Maya. You got her number from a pregnant woman you met at your doctor’s waiting room. She was there to get some medical analysis but confessed she was planning a home birth. You asked her for more information so she gave you Maya’s contact. She told you that she already assisted in her first birth, about two years ago.
Maya came to your house because she doesn't have any office or clinic to do the visits. That’s the point of having a midwife, you suppose, she will come to help you at your favorite place.
“Hello Maya, I’m Shannon and she is Abby, my daughter. Please, come in.” You guide her to the living room, where you all take a seat.
“Well Shannon, let’s begin. I’m gonna ask you some questions, if you don’t mind. Just to know more about you and your pregnancy.” She starts.
“Sure.” You are more than ready.
“I see this is not your first pregnancy.” She looks towards Abby. “How many other pregnancies have you had?”
“Just one, she is by now my only daughter.”
“Alright.” She keeps a bright, interested look, not taking any notes, just focusing on your answers. “Have you suffered any miscarriage in your life?”
“No, and I’ve never had an abortion either.”
“And how far along are you now? I see you are clearly showing a beautiful bump.” She smiles looking at the tightness in your jumper around your belly.
“I’m in my twenty-fifth week now” As you answer, you drive both your hands to your belly.
“And have you gone to any medical visits or have you gone unmedicated in this pregnancy?”
“I’ve been having regular appointments with two doctors, one from the town we lived before and one from this town.”
“Alright, and is everything looking good? Anything to worry about?”
“Well, my age seems to be the main focus of concern. I’ve even been told not to have a natural birth and consider having a planned C-section.”
“How old are you?”
“I’m forty years old.”
“Well, yes, when talking about pregnancy, you are not young. However, that doesn’t mean that a natural birth is impossible at your age. Of course there are risks related to age, but having a good plan to go to the hospital if needed should be enough if you are willing to have a natural home birth. Also, being this your second pregnancy, it should not be that much concerning. So, have you thought about where you want to have your child, here at home, or maybe somewhere outdoors?”
“Oh no, at home, right here. I consider it natural enough!” you smile.
“Sure, and have you been told the gender of the child? Well, I’m assuming there’s only one child, am I wrong?”
“No, not at all. There’s just one baby in there, at least that’s what the doctors said, and I hope they’re right. About the gender, I preferred it to be a surprise.”
“Alright. Well, then I have nothing more to say. I suppose you have many questions, but let me give you this.” She takes a card out of her pocket. “It has my webpage where you can watch some births I assisted, of course all the videos are posted with the mother’s consent. There is also some information about the way I understand the birth process. Take a look, explore as deep as you want, and we can meet the day after tomorrow to discuss anything you want to, and decide whether you want my services or not.”
After saying this, she stands up and, giving a cordial goodbye, she leaves.
That afternoon, you were in front of your laptop, sitting at the dining table. Diving into the content of Maya’s webpage you were feeling an overwhelming amount of mixed feelings. You have seen a couple of videos, you have seen womanhood in an extraordinary new way, you have seen raw births, you have seen laboring mommas being respected and almost adored. The determination and courage to have a home birth has increased almost immediately, but so has the fear.
Before these videos, you remembered your own experience, you already had a clear idea of what birth implies, but seeing it was shocking. The videos gave you a new perspective about birth. Of course, you have seen birth videos before, and even some realistic birth scenes, but not being pregnant, not planning your own birth, not home births as the one you are planning to have. One hand of yours goes instinctively to the lower part of your belly as you watch a woman pushing and making some screams between pushes while her vagina bugles around the unstoppable baby’s head. In the last video, the woman is squatting and reclined over the sofa as she does the final pushes. With evident effort, she brings the baby to a full crown before getting the head out and, after taking some deep breaths with the baby halfway out of her, she births it completely in a powerful push. You pause the video just after the baby is born, and your sight gets lost looking at your own sofa, imagining yourself there, pushing, breathing, opening up, feeling your baby move down and out, with Abby and Maya by your side.
That marvelous thought gets suddenly interrupted when Abby rushes down the stairs. When she gets by your side she is almost in shock.
“Abby, darling, what’s happening?” You ask taking one of her hands as she sits by your side.
“Oh mom, I’ve been checking out Maya’s website and…” Tears fell down her face.
“No Abby, don’t you worry, I saw the videos too. I know they’re raw…”
“It’s not just that!” She interrupts you. “I feel terribly sorry mom…”
“What are you talking about?” You don’t understand what’s happening. She wipes away the tears from her face and looks at you.
“Everything is my fault.” She looks back to the table, not being able to keep eye contact. “All this situation is my fault. Your pregnancy is my fault.” You don’t have a clue of what she is referring to, so you wait for her to continue. “Mom, I caused your pregnancy.”
“What?”
“Oh mom, I was so stupid! I once saw Logan’s car parked in front of our home and, when I got in, I heard the two of you having sex. I couldn’t believe it until I silently went upstairs and saw you with your legs to the air and Logan between them. I was so angry with you that I punched a hole in your diaphragm. I knew you used them because you told me about them when you warned me about the importance of contraceptive methods. I just thought that after having sex you would check the diaphragm and, after discovering its leaks, you would get a morning-after pill.” She reveals all this information speaking fast.
“Wait, wait. What are you talking about? Why…”
“There’s no reason why mom. It was stupid! I supposed that a pregnancy scare would make you reconsider your relationship with Logan.”
“Abby, that makes no sense! And why are you saying it now?”
“I was shocked when you told me you were pregnant, but you seemed so happy about it that I decided to keep this to myself. But now I saw those births. Mom, at school I once saw a birth video, but it was a woman in a hospital. She was making efforts but, though the video was graphic, it was kind of calmed. The video I’ve just seen has nothing to do with that! That woman was almost out of her mind, screaming, changing positions apparently to get the shoulders free. I didn’t want you to suffer that much.”
These revelations would have probably made you so angry with her a couple of months ago, but not now. This pregnancy is making you have a new aim in your life so you find it easy to forgive Abby.
“Abby, look, as I’ve told you before, I consider this pregnancy almost a blessing. I’ve done bad thighs too. You don’t have to worry about me, I’ve seen some of the videos and I loved them. Of course labor and birth is not a pleasant experience, but it is the inevitable bridge between the wonderful worlds of pregnancy and motherhood. The best we can do now is get ready for it. I would love you being by my side.”
“Of course mom. I’ll try to do everything to become the best birthing partner ever!”
After that afternoon full of emotions, Abby became fully dedicated to your birth preparations. The second meeting with Maya gave you a clear way to begin working. She gave you a book full of exercises, you must now try to spend one hour a day doing them. She told you that it would improve your strength and would make it easier to endure the labor. The book also suggested ways to get yourself ready to endure the pain, providing mental tricks that must be tested confronting uncomfortable situations like holding ice for a long time. Abby became the perfect couple to have during all these preparations. She does all those exercises together with you, the yoga routines, the stretches and the breathing techniques.
You keep having regular appointments with Maya and week after week, you feel more ready for the birth. The exercises have helped you be able to spread your legs wider than before, and you have also worked on hips movements that would make it easier for your pelvis to let a baby pass through. Even though your belly has been growing, you’ve managed to feel more agile than before.
Entering the thirty-fourth week of pregnancy, Maya began talking to you about the importance of working on the strength of your pelvic floor. She presented a device to improve your vaginal and perineal flexibility. The Epi-No, a kind of balloon designed to be inflated once inserted in you. It’s supposed to mimic the sensation of the baby opening you up as well as getting your body ready for such stretch. If it wasn’t because it was on sale in a maternity online shop, you would have guessed it was a sexual toy.
The first time you tried it, you understood the usefulness of that device. You sat on the yoga mat, with your back supported in some large pillows. At first, you felt awkward being with your pussy exposed in front of Abby but, surprisingly, she was more than ready for it.
“Don’t be shy mom, I’ll have to see you naked down there sooner or later.”
You put a bit of lubricant on the top of the deflated device before gently getting it in you. Once it is fully inside you, you begin to inflate it. Slowly your right hand squeezes the pump completely, then releases it before gently squeezing it again. After the seventh full pump, the balloon began to seriously stretch you. The fullness in your pussy was as evident as the burning feeling.
“Hofff….” You take a deep breath.
“Is it working mom, are you alright?” Abby asks, keeping one hand over one of your spread knees.
“Yes, it is an intense feeling. I’ll try to do some more gentle pumps”
“Remember that you must go on little by little, this is just the first time.”
You are able to do three more pumps. The burning is almost unbearable, but you fight to resist it. Maya told you to try and keep it in for some time, feeling your body stretch around it, being able to breath and relax your mussels. In the pump’s pressure clock, you are able to see how your birth canal contracts around the balloon, making the hand move slightly towards higher pressures. After ten minutes, you have a decision to make. You can deflate the balloon or try to push it out. As it’s the first time you are trying it, you consider it will be small enough to push it out, so you let your body surrender to the urge to bring that thing out.
Taking deep breaths, you feel the widest part of the balloon stretch outer parts of your canal as it is moved out.
“Oh, wow mom, it’s almost out!” Abby says with excitement as she sees your folds spread open around the black balloon.
“AAahhh…” You let out a short scream as the balloon fully emerges.
“Look, not bad for the first time.” Abby says grabbing the recently birthed device using gloves. She then uses a ruler to inform you that you have achieved a 6 centimeter stretch.
“Well, there’s still work to do, but it felt better than I expected.”
Actually, you found yourself imagining the baby’s head making that stretch, about to crown, being pushed out. You are aching to use the Epi-No again.
In your last weeks of pregnancy it felt hard to keep doing the birth preparation workout. Your belly was huge, though Maya assured you it has a normal size. You, however, found old pictures from your first pregnancy. You looked much smaller in those. Maya came out with a very conceivable explanation to all your sensations.
“Look Shannon, when we talked about your age, we didn’t focus on the body changes during pregnancy. It’s normal for young women to have a more tight looking bump, they even began showing later in pregnancy. Not being this your first pregnancy, and given your age, it’s normal to get a bigger belly. Other things to take into account is that your uterus may have less strength but, given that your canal had been already opened in your first birth, it should be fine. Also, that lack of young tightness may cause the baby to drop much sooner, so you might experience that discomfort earlier.”
That information gave you even more confidence to face your desired home birth, she sure looks like she knows what she is talking about. You also found a growing excitement when using the Epi-No, even using it when Abby was not at home. Without her watching, you got more theatrical. Instead of getting semi-reclined and doing calmed breaths, you lay on your bed and push the balloon out in different positions, with exaggerated grunts and moans, unnecessary holding your breath and taking your chin to your chest. You do it on your back, holding your legs spread wide, on your hands and knees, squatting by the bed and even standing up. Lord, you are wishing for the real thing to happen, you are not scared at all.
This story is inspired by the plot of the movie A Tiger’s Tale (1987) with Ann-Margret, Kelly Preston and C. Thomas Howell (at least for the beginning of the pregnancy). This movie is, at the same time, based on the novel Love and Other Natural Disasters by Allen Hannay III.
You are Shannon, a forty-year-old woman living in a beautiful neighborhood outside a small town. You live, together with your eighteen-year-old daughter, in a two-story house. Her father left the two of you when she was three, and then you moved to this lovely place. Here you have seen Abby grow, you can recall her learning to ride a bicycle, then spending whole afternoons outside with her friends, going alone to school, her first love and then her first heartbreak. She is almost an adult woman, and a pretty beautiful one to be sincere. You can see in her much of the same captivative beauty you had when you were more nubile.
It’s not surprising, then, that all her boyfriends look as if being taken out from the cast of a romantic movie. Logan, her current boyfriend, is on the basketball team and is fit and handsome. As far as you know, he is a year older than Abby.
Tonight, they both went to watch a movie. You know what that really means, but you had the proper talk with Abby a couple of years ago. She is a smart girl, and you know she must have some fun considering her age.
You wake up past midnight in the living room, the TV is on because you’ve fallen asleep watching a show. You get off the sofa, as you don’t want Abby to find you there and believe you are trying to control how late she is arriving home. Before going upstairs to your room, you head to the kitchen, to have a glass of water. Then you see it, there’s a car parked in front of your house, an old pickup truck. It’s Logan’s car, or so you suppose because Abby and Logan are in it. You get an overwhelming mixture of emotions. Abby is legged spread and being fucked hard by Logan.
You don’t feel good seeing your daughter in this situation. She has her head hitting the side window with each of Logan’s thrusts, one of her legs over the seat and with her panties hanging from it and her hands scratching the roof of the car. But you have a clearer sight of Logan, of his naked muscular and sweaty torso. He is moving rhythmically back and forth, driving his dick in and out. He is so hot that you find yourself driving three fingers under your pants and start rubbing your clit. You keep rubbing it at the same rhythm as Logan is fucking Abby. You imagine yourself in her situation, with your legs wide open and getting pounded by a handsome guy. Actually, you remember yourself in that situation, though that happened a long time ago, before Abby. You were young and, in the summer, you and your boyfriend would drive out of town to a lonely place to just have sex. You took his dick in the car, bent over the car hood, standing by a tree or lying on the grass, almost day after day. You still remember that guy, or at least you remember how he looked back then. He was not your first one, but he was the first to drive you to an orgasm. And Logan is very similar to that past boyfriend of yours.
All these thoughts are mixed in your mind together with the feeling of your fingers over your clit and in your pussy. You are moving your hips and making some moans. Your free hand comes to your mouth to have something to bite as an orgasm is building up. Louder moans are muffled before escaping you. And you climax.
The hand in your mouth goes to the wall to support yourself as a final and short scream escapes your mouth. Your legs tremble and your knees collide together. Sweat is covering your neck and between your breasts. Your panties are wet although you didn't squirt. You take a few seconds to recover, taking deep breaths, and serve yourself the glass of water you came here for. Then, with one last look through the window, you go to your bed.
In the following days, you don’t ask Abby anything about Logan, as you are afraid of looking suspicious while talking about him. Weeks pass by and one day you discover Abby crying in her room. She is devastated because a friend of hers had sent her a photo of Logan kissing another girl. Her feelings go from sadness to anger as she tries to express them to you while still crying.
From this moment, her relation with Logan came to an end. This is confirmed by the way she screams through the phone that same afternoon when talking to him. However, Logan didn’t fully disappear from your life.
Some weeks later, he started to appear at your house. The first time, he made clear he knew Abby wasn’t there, as he had seen her at the mall. Nothing really strange after all, he was there to search for a jacket. You understood that he didn’t want to coincide with her, to avoid causing more pain. But he kept coming back, with different excuses.
Today, he showed up about lunchtime, so you invited him to stay and eat with you. A strange bond is appearing between you two. And you get involved in some apparently nonsense situations, like him telling you his ideas about his breakup with Abby. Apparently, he gets “easily distracted by feminine beauty.” And, to your own surprise, you replying that “easily distracted by beauty is surely something most women feel when he’s around.”
Once the meal is finished, he helps you clean the table. When you get to the kitchen, you put the dishes in the sink and, suddenly, your hands touch. None of you move apart for a moment, until he lets the plate he was holding go and grabs your hand.
You turn to look at him, just to find out he’s already looking at you, and then you kiss him. Your hands go as quickly to his back and neck as his go to your butt. Then, you stop for a moment.
“I can’t, It’s not right.” You whisper, as if your thoughts were escaping your mind. He keeps you tight against him, and moves to kiss your neck.
“It’s alright, Shannon, we can just have a little fun together.” You feel his dick get hard under his pants. You haven’t been with a man for almost a year now. You can’t say no to him.
Logan keeps one hand firmly grabbing your butt while he drives his other one down your leg and then up under your dress. You feel how he’s pulling your panties down, so you decide to help him. Once they fall to your feet, you get rid of them.
Moving slowly, driving Logan with you, you reach a free part of the countertop. You sit on it and, when he stops kissing you, you spread your legs open, resting your feet at the edge of the surface. He starts kissing your inner thighs, slowly traveling towards your pussy. You feel increasing pleasure as he comes near it, until his tongue runs through your lips and a gasp escapes your mouth. He doesn’t stop, seems he hasn’t even started yet, and keeps moving her tongue marvelously. He constantly changes from making it hard and attempting to get inside you, to turning it wide flat and gently pass it over your clit. You are enjoying it. He is fully dedicated, not seeming to be interested in stopping. You grab his hair and massage your boobs, trying to intensify the experience.
Some time later, he moves away from your pussy as gently as he had reached it, with constant kisses on your thighs. Although you got close to it, you didn’t really reach an orgasm, but now you are more than ready to get him in. So you move down to the floor, turn around, and bend over the countertop. You lift your dress with one hand and rub your pussy with another. The look you give to him makes it clear that you're aching for him to fuck you.
He gets near and, with one hand, makes you look forward, to the wall, while you can hear him taking his pants down. He seems to be taking his time, but suddenly, he moves one hand to your pussy and, soon after, you feel the head of her dick in your folds. After moving it around your wetness for a moment, he drives it inside you.
“Ah…” You gasp, it’s thick. “Oohh…” He keeps pushing it inside, it feels long. “OOHH… My fucking GOOOOOD!” Once he stops you can tell it’s just huge. It’s opening you more than any man has ever done. He takes it halfway out and then thrusts it in vigorously. “FUUUUUK…. don’t stop.” And he keeps making those almost violent thrusts, as you firmly grab the edge of the countertop. “YES… YES… OOHhh… OOHhhh… I’m cumming…. I’m cumming…. I’m cumming I’m cumming I’m cumming…. AAAAAAAAHHHHHHhhhhh…” Your feet leave the floor, you bend over with uncontrollable convulsions.
He keeps fucking you from behind, not stopping or giving you any break, so the orgasm seems to last much longer. Some pleasurable time later, you feel him making some harder thrusts and breathing stronger until he stops. “Are you cumming inside!?” You freak out for a moment.
“No Shannon, I’m wearing a condom. Don’t worry.” He then pulls out and, turning your head, you can see he’s not lying.
“Oh wow! You’re so discrete, I didn't even notice you putting it on.” You can’t stand perfectly up, as your legs are still trembling a bit. He doesn’t reply, and starts getting her pants on again.
“It’s been good.” He says and kisses you. “Maybe next time will be even better.” And he walks to the door.
You almost can’t believe what just happened. You’ve just been fucked by a well-hung boy in his twenties. How has it happened? One moment you were both eating and the next you were orgasming. And now he’s gone. Will there ever be a next time? You hope so, you won’t be able to forget him. How could Abby and her almost virginal cunt be able to stand it? Abby. Oh, Abby. What have you done! He was her boyfriend just a month ago. Oh, but you have needs. As long as it’s kept as a secret it will be alright. Will Logan keep the secret? Well, he sure has other friends with benefits who are much younger than you, more suitable to show off.
This waterfall of ideas keeps going in and out of your mind as you are still standing in the kitchen, with no panties. One final conclusion is clear, you are willing to meet him again.
Your wish comes true some days later. He gets to your home and, after a little talking, you both are completely naked on your bed. He gets over you as you keep your legs open up and, in this position, he gets even deeper inside you.
From then on, you both meet regularly once a week. You have to admit that he is not really creative during your sexual encounters, but he doesn't really need to be. He uses to kind of decide a position with you and then he just bangs you until he cums. Somehow, though, it’s enough. Once the pain from the first thrusts turns into pleasure, you just don’t need anything more, you just wish it to last as long as possible.
As time passes by, a bond between you builds up. Then you can share your fantasies with each other. That way, you star to use a diaphragm, so he can fuck you without condoms. You just love the feeling of cum filling you. He asked in response to have sex somewhere else outside your house, he loves free spaces. You then found yourself in some remote forests, bent over his car or lying on the backseats. You have to admit that having such a young lover is making you live again like in your teen years.
Even though he tends to be dominant, on some occasions you are the dominant one. Then, you make him lie down so you can ride him. Those are even more pleasurable experiences, being that possible. Even though the first time you were quite nervous, wondering whether you would be able to keep your mind clear enough to keep playing with his huge dick, you took it as a challenge. You discovered that being you the one controlling the depth made it so much easier to focus on the pleasure avoiding any pain. As a result, you were able to reach several orgasms. Even though he confessed that letting you do all the job is not what turns him on the most, the way you are able to reach multiple orgasms one after another makes it more exciting. You assume that’s because being a man with direct pornographic references to sexual relations, making a woman scream is his true fetish.
Weeks turned into months, you tried to start a relationship with a guy from the post office but, as you didn’t stop meeting Logan, that didn’t work. That, though, is not the most relevant consequence of your relationship with him. Yesterday, you woke up feeling nauseous. After going to the bathroom to splash some water at your face, you kept your normal routine. However, today it’s been even worse. Once you recover, the inevitable scary thought appears in your mind. “When was my last period? Oh, shit! Could it be…”
You rush to the nearest shop to get a pregnancy test. You are so nervous that you buy two of them. Whatever the result might be, you want it to be undoubtedly true. Back home again, you take the two tests at once. The result is clear: positive.
“Pregnant! I’m pregnant! It can’t be true. I’ve always used protection! Oh, god! Stupid slut of me, begging to get a creampie every time. What will I do now?” At the beginning you freak out for a moment.
Once you get partially recovered from the first shock, you begin to admit it. A baby, at your age, maybe it’s not that bad. A second maternity time in your life, it can be even great. Of course, you must tell it to Logan, you don’t expect him to be pleasantly surprised, but you won’t ask him to get involved. Telling it to Abby worries you more. You will not only confess that you’ve been knocked up, but also that the father of her future brother or sister is her last boyfriend. It’s crazy just to think about it.
First things first, so you make a quick appointment to the doctor. You drive to another town, just a thirty-minute ride far from your home but far enough to keep it more private by now. He tells you that with a second positive test it’s almost sure that it’s not a false alarm, however, as you asked for it, he does another test. Unsurprisingly the result is still positive. Then the doctor starts asking you questions to try and give you some initial prescriptions, but you decide to leave, telling him you have to tell the news to some people and that there will be time for that kind of stuff later on.
From there, you text Logan. You tell him to meet you in your spot in the forest. You know he’ll be there expecting something more than a talk, but you need to meet him now and this is the best way to get to him.
Once he arrives, you tell it straight away. You are pregnant, you are planning to keep it, it’s not his fault, he doesn't need to get involved and, if everything goes as planned, you’ll move away from this town, to begin this following chapter of your life in a new place.
He tries to be responsible, telling you he can be there for you, but you cut it straight away. Your relationship is only based on sex, and he is so young, with a whole life ahead. He must live it, you’ll be alright. You are even excited to have this child, and you already know what it is to do it alone. This can be your secret, only Abby will know about it. He can go on with his life, and you’ll just be another woman knocked up in a one-night stand. It’s not that bad nowadays, people will even consider you brave for keeping the child. He now must meet with his friends, have some drinks, go to some parties, make love with other girls and try to forget you.
He ends up agreeing and, with a last long kiss, he leaves.
You drive back home, having just experienced the most intense morning of your life. From time to time, you rest one hand on your still flat belly. You remember it big, round and tight, but that was so long ago. You are excited, surprisingly excited, actually.
Once you arrive home, you make something for lunch while you wait for Abby to arrive. She does shortly after.
“Abby, please, come here.” You call her from the sofa. “Sit darling, I need to tell you something”.
“What happened mum?” She looks quite nervous as she feels you are about to tell her something serious.
“Abby, I have some news which I consider great and exciting, but that will affect you. Firstly, I have to apologize. I’ve done a really stupid thing, I didn’t want to hurt you, It just happened…” You stop for a moment.
“Tell me mum, I’m getting worried” She insists.
“Oh Abby, now it seems even more stupid for me to have done it! Alright. I’ve been meeting with Logan some time after you both broke up and then things got more intense, and we began intimating.” You tell her the truth, looking at some point on her shoulder.
“What! You and Logan… Ugh! Mom, that's gross! He was my boyfriend, we’ve been… and then you… eww…”
“I know darling, I’m so sorry, but I can’t be sad because there is something great about it. I’m pregnant, I took some tests, and I’m having a baby” Your excitement for revealing to her that big news makes you forget for a moment your shame.
“You are… wait mum. Are you telling me that you’ve been fucking with my ex-boyfriend, and he knocked you up? Will I have a little brother whose father is Logan?” She stands up and paces in front of the sofa.
“Abby, my love, I understand you, I was not planning it. I can't even express how bad I’m feeling for what I’ve done to you. You are the most important person in my life and I can’t stand hurting you. Even though I’m not glad about my relationship with Logan, I can’t say I’m not happy with this pregnancy. I repeat it’s been unplanned, but now it feels as the perfect thing to have happened. You’ve grown up so rapidly, you are a young adult woman now. You’ll be living your life away from me in the near future, so this child will bring a new meaning to my life.” She stops walking and sits again on the sofa, closer to you than before. “I was thinking that maybe we should take this chance to move to another town, we could start this new life there. I’ve already talked to Logan, I was not expecting him to get involved, I didn’t even ask him to. We can leave this story in this place and build our future far from here”
“Mum, I understand your will to raise a child now that I’m older. And this time you’ll not be alone. Maybe it’s time for me to fly from home, but that doesn’t mean I must fly far from home. I’ll be there for you. You are also the most important person in my life, so I can’t let you handle this alone as dad did time ago.”
Tears fall down your face as you hug each other. They are the product of both relief and happiness.
Paint swatches hung crooked on the wall—soft lilac, pale yellow, mint green—all pinned up weeks ago and never finalized. Half-assembled furniture crowded the room. A half-drunk cup of peppermint tea sat forgotten on the windowsill, long since gone cold. But none of it mattered. Not right now.
Because in the next room, you were breathing like the world was inside you—and it was.
Two knelt beside you on the bedroom floor, his fingers laced with yours, his forehead brushing your damp shoulder as your back pressed against his chest. The contractions had been coming steady for hours, but this—this was different. Your body was trembling, legs shaking with pressure, and your breath came out in long, slow moans as another wave overtook you.
“Almost there,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. “You’re doing so good.”
You didn’t answer—just groaned low and deep, rocking your hips forward instinctively on your knees, your palms braced on the edge of the bed. You were wearing one of his old T-shirts, oversized and soft, clinging to you now with sweat and tension. He could feel your body pulsing beneath his arms, belly taut and straining, the baby moving lower with every contraction.
Two pressed a kiss to your temple. “I’ve never loved you more than I do right now,” he said, voice thick. “I want you to know that.”
You laughed, just a little, breathless. “You say that… every hour.”
“I mean it every time.”
Your next cry cut through the dim light of the bedroom. It was sharp—raw. A sound that made his throat close. You curled forward with the contraction, groaning from deep inside your chest, your body straining downward.
He rubbed your back slowly, grounding you. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You can do this. I’m right here.”
When it passed, you slumped back against him, your body going limp for a moment in his arms. “I’m scared,” you admitted, voice cracking. “It’s—so much.”
“I know,” Two murmured, brushing hair from your face. “But you’re not alone. This is ours, okay? Every breath, every push. We’re in this together.”
You nodded slowly. A tear rolled down your cheek, and he kissed it away before you could wipe it. Your belly tightened again under his hand, the shape of it pulling forward as you gritted your teeth and let out a slow, strained sound.
“Push with it,” he encouraged gently. “Let your body do it. I’m right here.”
Your thighs shook. Your hands gripped the edge of the bed harder. “It’s coming,” you gasped. “Two—it’s—oh God, it’s coming—”
“I’ve got you,” he said again, stronger now. “You’re so strong. Let it come. Just breathe with me.”
Together, you rocked.
You bore down with a guttural cry, your body curling forward, his arms steadying you as the baby pushed down lower. Two could feel it. Not just emotionally—but literally. The way your body moved, opened, the heat, the trembling force of your strength as you surrendered to it. You were radiant. Terrified. Magnificent.
Time blurred.
Pushes came one after another. Your shirt was damp against your back. Your voice cracked, and he whispered to youthrough every one. “You’re doing it. You’re almost there. You’re so close.”
You collapsed into his lap between waves, gripping his wrist like a lifeline. “Don’t let go.”
“Never,” he promised.
Then—you gasped. Froze.
“I can feel the head,” she sobbed, half in awe and half in pain. “It’s stretching—Two—it’s stretching—”
“I know. Breathe through it. One more, baby. Just one more.”
And with a scream that broke open, you bore down and the pressure shifted. He saw it—the baby’s head emerging, slick and crowned in dark hair.
“Oh my God,” he choked. “You did it. It’s here—just a little more—”
Your body trembled as the baby slipped further, then all at once, you pushed with everything you had—and in a rush of warmth and relief, your child slipped into the world.
Crying.
Alive.
New.
Two caught the baby himself, hands shaking, heart thundering. A girl. Tiny. Slick with vernix and wailing with all her might.
He looked at you, still on your knees, collapsed forward on the bed, trembling and weeping in relief.
“We did it,” he whispered, voice breaking. “You did it.”
You looked back at him, eyes flooded with emotion. “We did.”
He wrapped his arms around both of you—the trembling mother and the brand new child. Your child. Your daughter. He pressed his forehead to yours as you cried softly, laughter curling through your sobs.
And there, on the bedroom floor, paint swatches still crooked on the wall, they held their first breath together—not just the baby’s…
Another story that I worked on with @allkindsofpreg. As usual - it gets a little kinky in spaces. Here's hoping you enjoy it - first one of 2026.
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You groaned as you lay back in bed, your large belly prominent in your lap. I straddle your legs, supporting my weight on my arms as my chest skims lightly over the stretched skin of your bump. The hairs on my chest scratching and tickling your belly.
“I just wish these babies were here, I’m as big as a whale” you whine, though your tone was playful rather than complaining.
“You know how big you are turns me on…” my voice is breathy as you feel the hardness of my cock rub against your knee. “They’ll be here soon… let’s just enjoy being child free for as long as we can… hell it could be days… or even hours at this point in time.”
I lean forward stretching, my chest rubbing against your own chest, your nipples swelling at the contact as my lips meet yours and we kiss, our tongues meeting and swirling together.
“You’re gorgeous babe.” that was the voice of Stella, the third of our little polycule. She looked up from her position between the legs of Georgie, the final member of our little poly family, who was, let’s be honest, in no fit state to say anything, her moans had just echoed around the room as she came to the feel of a tongue across her folds, her chest heaving as she came down from whatever ecstasy she was experiencing at that very moment.
We had found out only last week that Georgie was expecting her first child and Stella certainly wanted to celebrate the best way she knew how.
“She’s right,” Georgie added, finally coming back to herself. She looked at your belly longingly and placed a hand over her own still flat stomach. “I can’t wait.” She reached a hand across the bed and cupped one of your milk-filled breasts. “And I really can’t wait for these,” she teased, thumbing your nipple and causing you to gasp, your whole body having been super sensitive for weeks now.
Lately, what with your being so close to going into labour, the three of us loved to gang up on you to make you forget all about the aches in your back, hips and feet. Almost as if we’d rehearsed it, Stella joined in by slipping her hand between your legs, and between our kissing, Georgie’s teasing, and Stella’s fingering, you were breathless for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with the two babies compressing your lungs.
There was so much pleasure zinging through your body— your lips, your neck, your chest, your clit — it had you writhing, arching, simultaneously trying to lean into and pull away from the sheer magnitude of sensation. “Fuck me,” you moaned.
“Is that an exclamation or a request?” Georgie asked with a giggle, pinching your nipple a little harder.
“Mm, fuck. Both, I think.” You were already wet and Stella’s fingers, while talented, didn’t fill you up the same way as my cock. You kissed my jaw, my cheek, up to my ear. “Need you inside me.”
“As you wish.” I sat back on my heels and suddenly the attention shifted to me. I watched for a moment as the two ladies started with their ministrations, stroking me to make sure I was nice, hard and thick for you. “What position would feel most comfortable for you right now?”
It was hard for you to think clearly, but you knew at least you didn’t want to be on your back. “On top. Me. On you.”
You weren’t sure if you were even forming coherent words, but I grasped the idea. I rolled to the other side of the bed and, with both Georgie and Stella’s help, you got to a seated position and crawled over to straddle my thighs.
“I’d suck you off if I could reach you over this thing,” You said, hands tracing around the curve of your huge belly to wrap around my cock. You gave a few languid pulls and cupped my balls before I jerked and grabbed your wrists.
“I’m already well prepared for you, baby,” I explained. “C’mere. I know what you need.”
You shuffled forward on your knees until you were flush with my hips. My hands reached up, rested against the sides of your belly, travelled around to your generous behind, and settled on your hips, guiding you down onto me.
Once I was fully sheathed in your folds, Georgie tilted your chin in her direction and teased your mouth open with her tongue. Stella got behind you, poured some oil into her palms, and kneaded her knuckles into your lower back, up your spine, and into your shoulders.
Your head lolled forward and slumped in pure ecstasy. Georgie turned her focus to me while Stella worked at your overtaxed muscles, and you twisted your hips experimentally. The slow drag of my cock on your walls left you panting. But then you tilted and shifted just so as I happened to thrust up at exactly the same time, it hit a spot that caused stars to burst behind your eyes.
“Fuck. Yes. There. Right there.”
Encouraged by your breathless plea, my pace quickened. “There?”
You nodded, reaching back to weave your fingers through Stella’s hair. You craned your neck back and she kissed you deeply before moving down to nibble at your neck.
“I’m close. I’m close, but I—“ you didn’t know what, but you certainly seemed to be enjoying the moment.
My hand brushed the underside of your stomach as my thumb found your clit. My pace slowed but my thrusts became harder, deeper, resulting in your exaggerated curves bouncing with every one. Soon you were almost entirely still, the three of us doing all the work to make you whine, moan and clench.
My thumb pressed deeper, Stella’s tongue and teeth danced across your skin, and finally Georgie returned her focus to you, to the breasts she was so fond of, and you came undone.
You shouted as your whole body seized and then released itself in spasming waves of pleasure, but as those waves receded they were replaced by a different tension—longer and more painful.
Your hands flew to your stomach as you tried to catch your breath. The sudden stillness drew everyone’s attention back to you, and there must have been a strange look on your face because Georgie grabbed your hand, kissing your palm before interlocking fingers with you.
“What is it, love?” she asked.
“I- I think I just had a contraction.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. I’ll admit, I sounded concerned – we’d been preparing for this day now for the last 4 weeks after being warned that twins could come early, but here we go – 39 weeks, and it may be the sign that things were underway.
“I… think… so…” you sounded each word out as if you were unsure. “I mean, I’ve no point of reference, but it certainly felt different to all the Braxton Hicks contractions I’ve been having. Look, lets not get all worked up right now. I mean I think you’re supposed to track them over hours and hours… and you have something that needs to be drained.” You of course were referencing my rod-hard cock which was still sheathed deep into you. I of course, was well aware of the fact, but given the situation we were in right now, I wasn’t sure if you’d be having second thoughts.
Your hands crept up my body as you lifted your hips, holding your pelvic muscles tight as you did so. I swear the sound was almost like a pop as I slipped out of you, and the gasping groan that escaped my lips was all the sign you needed to know that had hit just the right level.
Stella and Georgie took their own role in this, taking my hands away from you, inserting two of my fingers on each hand into their own mouths. They mimed as if they were sucking my cock by swirling their tongue around my digits, but most importantly, it took away any sort of control I had over your movements. I was lost to the pleasure as I shuddered – you slipped back down my shaft as I felt the pressure building, knowing it was close to release.
“Let it go” you whispered, sensing my quivering body ready for release. “Cum for me…” you continued to whisper breathy little statements like that as you bounced, the sounds of the other two reduced to grunts and moans as they played with my fingers.
“I can’t, I can’t hold on.” I sounded almost pleading, as if I wanted to keep this moment going forever.
“Cum… daddy!” you moaned as your head fell back and your eyes closed, another surge taking you. You knew that if this was the real deal, you likely would be a few weeks before you would feel me inside you again, so you were determined to make me have the best orgasm you could.
Your hands pulled back on your belly, as if trying to ease the weight for a few moments, but I couldn’t hold on any longer. The groan escaped my lips as I felt my twitching cock expel its load. You lifted yourself off me, a sticky trail of my fluids dripping out of you as you shuffled back. Stella noticed the mess and turned toward you, her fingers dipping between your legs – to another gasp from you, as Georgie let go of my fingers and her head turned towards the glistening mess between my legs. I was half expecting her to try and take me in her mouth, but she ran her finger through the puddle we had left and brought it up to my chest, trailing her wet finger through my hair.
“Look at the mess you made, we’ll have to clean the sheets” she said wickedly.
“We might have more than a bit of cum to worry about getting the sheets dirty.” You interrupted, hand pressed hard into your side. “That was another one.”
Just to make sure it was the real deal and not just a very intense false labour, Georgie brought you a glass of water while I led you around the house for a bit. Despite the hydration and the movement, a combination that would usually stop the Braxton Hicks, the contractions still came regularly, and closer together than seemed normal for this early in the process.
After a couple hours, a light snack, and about a hundred trips up and down the hallway, we determined that this was likely happening, finally.
“Are we ready to be parents?” You huffed, the last contraction strong enough to leave you winded. I kissed you as Georgie wrapped her arms around you from behind and Stella wrapped herself around me. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Stella took to changing out the linens - both because we had made quite a mess of the sheets and so she could replace them with the special waterproof ones we had bought in anticipation of labour. We weren’t entirely sure that a home birth would be possible, as multiples tended to have more complications, but you’d had a healthy pregnancy and the midwife said we could give it a go as long as things seemed to be going smoothly.
This initial stage had you restless - not quite comfortable enough to allow you to rest, but not quite uncomfortable enough to feel like any real progress was being made. You walked and leaned and swayed as much as your body would allow, but eventually your back began to ache and the continuous movement started to hurt more than it helped.
“What can we do to make it better, love?” I asked.
Your skin was still coated in now dried salty liquids from our earlier escapades, and some hot water sounded heavenly. “Shower?” You suggested.
Our extra large shower could normally accommodate all four of us, but now that you had two extra people on board that hadn’t been logistically possible for quite some time now. We still managed to wedge three of us in there - Georgie in front, me in the back, and you and the twins sandwiched in between.
The warm water was a balm to your aching joints and you leaned back into me. I reached my arms around your waist and clasped me hands beneath your huge belly, supporting some of the weight and relieving it from your spine as I dipped my head down to kiss the crook of your neck.
Georgie lathered you up, take her time massaging her hands into your shoulders, your breasts, your hips, your thighs. As your face pinched with the start of a new contraction, she dipped her fingers into your folds and you gasped, pressing back into me. I was getting hard again, holding myself still in an attempt to quell the rising urge.
“It’s okay,” you said, craning your neck to kiss my lips. You tilted your hips back and ground your ass against my cock. “Want to take care of you too, daddy.”
My grip on your stomach tightened and I pressed myself even closer. I moved my hands to your breasts and slotted my dick between your ass cheeks as my hips began a steady rhythm, sliding up and down between them as my fingers teased your sensitive nipples. This intensified the contraction causing you to gasp, the pressure increasing from a dull indistinct ache into something sharper and more precise. Georgie stroked your clit and her fingers danced inside you as she leaned over your shoulder, pulling you into her bosom and in for a deep kiss.
In what could be a truly impressive display of acrobatics considering the situation, you managed to duck under Georgie’s arm and switch positions so that she could finish me off while you rode out the rest of the contraction. The soap, water and pain was making you feel a bit unsteady, so you got out of the shower – you figured it would make things easier for us two without you in there anyway.
Stella immediately wrapped you in a warmed towel and brought you over to the newly made bed. There were at least a dozen pillows, soft blankets essential oils being diffused in the air and romantic music playing - this was so much better than giving birth in a hospital.
“Rest while you can,” she instructed, helping you onto the mattress and shoving soft things into every uncomfortable crevice until it truly felt like you were floating.
Your back was elevated to about a 45 degree angle, your naked belly and breasts spilling out over your thighs. Your knees were up and bent, lazily opening out to the sides and putting your vagina on full display. It almost looked like the position women traditionally gave birth in, and when I emerged from the bathroom with Georgie in tow, you could tell the sight awakened something primal in me.
Your stomach squeezed, the pressure returning, and you made a show of opening your hips wider, pulling apart your folds to give me a good look at where our babies would soon be coming from.
“Pretty soon there’s going to be a head crowning right here,” you said, tracing your opening. “But it’s so small, and our babies are so big.” You laid your hand atop the peak of your swell for emphasis - it was an impressive distance. “Is this how I should do it?” You hooked your hands behind your knees and pulled them back so that your feet were off the bed. You looked at each of the three of us in turn. “How do you want to see me birth these babies?”
“As long as both you and the babies are healthy, then I’m not bothered…” there was an audible gasp in the room as both Stella and Georgie’s hands went to their mouths in shock.
My proclivity for birth was well known between the three of us, even before you were pregnant I had the three of you dress up with fake bellies and play out scenes from birth videos we had watched. They always made me hard and if truth be told it was probably a result of those videos that caused the babies to be conceived in the first place. Hence the passive attitude was completely unexpected.
“Who am I kidding…” I added with a smile, looking from eye to eye with each of the ladies in the room watching them realise I was leading them on. “I want to see you push, I want to see you stretch, and maybe… just maybe I want to see you howl as you do it. I want you nice and wide, moaning through your pushes, and I want my other ladies teasing you throughout. I want to cum on your belly as you push, maybe even feed you my cum so it dribbles out of your lips as your pussy lips drool their own juices. I want you to reach that pinnacle of pleasure and pain so you cum as the head pops out of you. And of course I want a good view of it at all times. I want these two beautiful ladies make you beg as they suckle on your breasts, getting you ready for feeding two hungry mouths in the aftermath. All in all I want the birth of my first children to be a memory all four of us will treasure.”
My speech had all three of you looking wide eyed and wanting, the four of us all ultimately wanting the same thing. It was your wince, as the next contraction picked up that broke the reverie of the moment.
As you lolled your head back, offering your hands for both myself and Stella to take one each so you could squeeze as the contraction built, you let out a chuckle.
“One hell of a voyeurs show coming up daddy…”
You laboured in this position for quite a while, being stroked, kissed, massaged and fingered until you’d come at least twice more. But then progress stalled and you were brought back to your feet for a bit.
The added pressure on your spine caused you to be more vocal during the contractions, but you figured I’d rather like that.
“Mmm. Ohh. Oh, they feel so low.” You bent forward to massage the bottom of your stomach. It had dropped considerably since labour had started, and while it gave your lungs a bit more breathing room, it increased the pressure between your hips even more. Your legs shuffled apart so you were standing in a wide V. “Like they might just—mmm—fall out of me any minute.”
I came up and dipped a finger inside of you - deeply. “Not so low after all,” I teased, adding in another finger. “You’re gonna have to work hard to get my big babies out of this tight little pussy.”
You shuddered in anticipation. It would feel so good to start pushing, but your body wasn’t ready for that yet. You bent over the dresser, resting your forehead on your crossed arms as all the mass of your belly pooled down and to the front. Your full breasts swayed side to side in time with your hips as you rode out the contraction with my fingers inside you and Stella’s hand pressed firmly against your sacrum.
“Gooood, mama,” Georgie praised, stroking your hair as you mimicked the measured breaths she took. “Breathe it away.”
You gave up leaning on the furniture and had to walk around. After a few more laps of the room, your legs got a little too shaky, your sweat dampened skin got a little too cool and your stomach got a little too nauseous, so you requested a stint in our massive tub.
It took a while to fill, but it was so worth it. The weightlessness instantly relieved the pressure on your back, knees and feet and the warmth loosened some of the tightness in your muscles. You didn’t want to lose the comforting touch I had been giving you all this time, so begged me to follow you into the tub – I was hardly one to argue at a request like that!
Still wanting to move things along, you stayed in a squatting position, with me supporting you from behind. I wrapped my arms under yours, hands resting on your breasts and stimulating your nipples during contractions, making them come hard and fast and in turn making you moan and whimper.
Georgie and Stella were kneeling on the side of the tub to help support. Georgie held your hand while Stella massaged your hard belly whilst you rode out wave after wave of contractions. Some combination of the water, the stimulation and the relaxation ramped up the intensity. You could no longer speak – were reduced to primal grunts and groans that transformed into meditative howls at Georgie’s prompting you to be loose. Your eyes drifted closed as you focused only on the physical sensations of your body. Your nipples, gently rolled between two fingers. Your stomach, sharp and tight and full. Your clit, circled and stroked and pressed thanks to Stella’s roaming hands. Your hips, aching from being held so open for so long. Your ass and thighs, making small figure eights in the water as you rolled your hips.
The sensations were constant now, both pleasure and pain, and you gave yourself over fully to feeling them. You writhed and panted, thrashed and growled and it got to a point where finally you decided the water did absolutely nothing to ease the mounting pressure. The next contraction came upon you so fiercely and suddenly that you screamed, lurching forward onto your knees and gripping the edge of the tub with one hand and your stomach with the other.
“Hnghh, fuck! Ow, shit, fuck!” you gasped, slamming your fist against the rim to emphasize your cursing. “Hahh, ahh, mmmmm.” You tried to relax back into the flow state you’d managed previously, but something was different now.
“What is it, love?” Stella asked, pushing a strand of hair out of your face.
You whimpered, tried to stand, failed miserably. “Bed. Please,” you managed.
We worked in unison to pull you up out of the water. You cried out at the sudden weight of gravity adding to the already unbearable pressure, and after stepping out of the tub, I had to carry you the few feet across the room.
You laid in much the same position you had teased me with earlier, only this time the display was real. “Check me,” you begged, your legs falling open as your face scrunched up in pain. “I think- I think I need to push!”
“Are you sure?” Georgie asked, excitement mixing with worry. “Your water hasn’t even broken yet.”
“That’s why I wanted someone to fucking check me,” you groaned out, and Georgie looked like a kicked puppy. “Sorry, George, I - fuck, I just really need to start doing something with all this pressure building up inside, you know?”
She nodded, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles. You added “I just don’t want anything to go wrong. Plus… pregnancy hormones.”
We all had a tension relieving chuckle at that, which was interrupted with a hiss as I stuck your fingers inside and probed your cervix.
“Well?” You had the blanket in a death grip as I sought my determination. But I was too slow. Another contraction came right on the heels of the last one and you couldn’t help but push with it. “Fuck, I’m pushing, I’m pushing!” Stella grabbed your other hand as you threw your head back, knees pulling up and back as your heels dug in and your toes curled with the effort.
“Mmmnahhh!” At the crest of the contraction, something gave way. A dam broke, both literally and metaphorically, and the entire lower half of my arm was coated in amniotic fluid as the push broke your waters with my hand still inside you.
We all stared down between your legs for a moment, a bit shocked and definitely excited. Some of the pressure had been released, but that fluid was quickly being replaced with the very large and solid head of our first baby. Your back arched, pushing out your belly and breasts even further, at the sensation, as if your whole insides were being pulled down and out through my vagina by a very strong, very large string.
“Baby’s still pretty far up there, but you’re at ten.” I smiled at you, kissed your knee and looked back between my legs hungrily. “Time for Stage 2.”
You blew out your breath, you were unconsciously holding it in following the soaking that my hand had just gotten, and the thoughts of what was on the horizon - and more importantly, what you’d have to do to scale that proverbial mountain. You looked down. There was an expanding pool of murky water just visible past the extremities of your belly, prevented from soaking into the sheets by the waterproof top cover.
“Can you clean…” you were cut short as you noticed your belly tighten around the babies within it, the next contraction building rapidly and squeezing you forcefully. You closed your eyes and winced, squeezing the two ladies hands as you sought something to do to react to the sensations that were surging inside you. Your knees closed almost involuntarily, trapping my arm in place as I’d extracted my hand, but weren’t quick enough to move out of the way.
“These feelings are just too much… it hurts, it hurts, what do I do… what do I do.” You were in a bit of a panic, and the other three of us all joined in at once.
“Just breathe… let it come” came Stella, her free hand moving to your shoulder.
“Push when you need to, you’re doing great!” That was Georgie, her free hand moving towards your knee trying to separate them to release my arm.
“This… this is so beautiful… you’re so beautiful, you’re doing great.” That was me, who at that very moment was transfixed by the shape your belly had made.
It was absolute cacophony, four people making noise at once, though it was suddenly all overridden by your own roar as your knees flopped wide, you grabbed your inner thighs and pushed. The rest of us were awestruck. Finding my arm released once more I scrambled forward through the water puddle on the bed so I was directly in front of you, my hands on top of yours, interlocking with your fingers digging into your thighs so my head was visible over your belly, and we locked eyes.
“That’s it, Push!” I spoke in front of you. You could only nod as the contraction faded. “I need you all to help me!” The frustration was definitely still there in your tone.
-
This was new for all of us, so you tried to allow everyone some grace… but damnit, it hurt and nothing anyone said or did seemed to be helping. You pushed with everything you had with every contraction, but you may as well have been pushing up against a stone wall. When you yelled, more in frustration than pain, Georgie patted your arm in sympathy.
“You’ve just got to relax, mummy. The baby will come when it’s ready.”
Stella must have been able to sense your less than helpful retort sitting there on your lips, and interrupted with, “Why don’t we try something a little different then, yeah?” She sat on the bed behind you, leaning back against the headboard and moving the pillow tower out of the way, opened up her legs, and pulled you up so you were pressed directly against her chest.
I took the opportunity to soak up the birthing fluids with a towel and toss it into the bathroom before crawling back between your legs. “Alright?” I asked, tracing a line up and down your inner thigh. When you didn’t answer, I dipped into your folds and smiled. “It’s so close now, love. I can feel the head just inside.”
“Really?” you asked, hopeful. I nodded and you placed your hands around the curve of your stomach. “Just a little more, babies. Momma needs your help.”
Your belly contorted and clenched as a new contraction began and you reached your arms overhead to grip on the headboard over Stella’s shoulder as you gave myself over to another push.
“Hnghhhhahh! Ahh, fuck!” Your heels pressed into the mattress, bringing your hips up until I forced them back down into a stable position. “Fuck, stop, I need to- I need—“ you gasped as Georgie’s tongue stroked long and hard across my chest.
“You need to relax,” she repeated with a wicked smile. She trailed kisses across your collarbone, down your chest, and then took one of your breasts in her mouth, lapping and sucking at your nipple in such a way that a different kind of pressure began building inside of you. “You like that, huh momma?” she hummed against your skin.
“Oh. Ooooh, oh god. Mmmmnahhh!” Something finally gave way and the head surged forward, bulging out your lips and pressing insistently against my hole.
“That’s it, it’s right there!” I called from my post between your legs, shuffling closer. “You’ll be crowning in no time.”
You pulled Georgie’s face up to yours and kissed her while Stella took over massaging your breasts. You paused to push whenever there was a contraction, but in between there was always touching, kisses, love.
When your folds began to part in earnest, you howled, “Burns! It’s burning!” and the three of us redoubled our efforts. Every sensual part of you felt like it was being tended to simultaneously — your lips, your neck, your breasts, your ass, your thighs. You had the vague sense of me working to stroke your clit at the same time as I was stroking my cock and my words from earlier came back to you.
You reached between your legs and your hand found its way to my shaft. You brushed its hard length with your fingertips and then felt for the coin sized bit of pubic hair that was left sitting at your opening after we had recently styled you. “Come on me,” you said, moving your fingers to your clit, taking over pleasuring yourself in the downtime between contractions.
“What?” I asked, incredulous, as if I hadn’t been the one to suggest it in the first place.
“Mark me as yours. Paint me with your seed. Make me taste you, make me scream, make me come as I’m spread open unbearably wide.” You let out three quick huffs of air as your fingers moved with greater urgency. “And do it quickly-eee!” your last word morphed into a squeal and then a shout as the next contraction slammed into you.
Your hands moved, hooking under your knees and pulling them back as you locked eyes with me over the huge dome of your stomach, as once more, you pushed.
It was as if all my birthdays came at once… and I wasted no time in reaching down between my own legs and stroked my shaft, feeling the slickness meet my fingers at the tip.
I shuffled back and got up on my haunches as I slowed my breathing and let my fingers start to play. Back and forth my hand moved, squelching noises soon following the back and forth movement.
My eyes met with yours over your belly and though you were obviously in pain as the contraction built, your eyes also showed longing, and I knew then you wanted this rather than just saying it knowing it would please me.
Your chin dropped to your chest and you moaned out loud and low as you pulled your legs back further, Stella and Georgie maintaining the touch and massage they had started.
With Stella behind you, she focused entirely on you, her hands rubbing circles and tugging at your nipples, finally squeezing out a few drops of colostrum as you gasped and pushed. She let go with one hand and turned your head so her lips could meet hers in an embrace.
Yours moans met her voice purring into yours “you’re so sexy, stretch for me mamma, push that head out. “
The show was electric for me, and quite soon I was beginning to huff and puff myself, starting to lose control.
Georgie sensed the progression and stepped off the bed, leaving you as she walked in behind me, reached a hand under my ass and between my legs, brushed her fingers over my balls and took a long finger and stroked it down my shaft from as far as she could reach back to my ass. The added sensation caused me to flinch and a spurt of creamy white cum flowed out of me and dribbled down my hand into the bed.
I could do nothing else but groan, my own moaning noises meshing with yours, your focus now on Stella’s tongue playing with yours. Georgie got in close behind my ear and nibbled lightly whispering “that cum is the same stuff that’s going to make me swell as much as this gorgeous lady… 8 more months and we’ll be doing this all again.”
Her hand wrapped around my fingers and joined in with the back and forth movement as her eyes caught sight of between your legs.
It was clear that the baby was on the way. Your gasping pushes had bulged your opening to grotesque levels, your lips open in an oval and the view of the first tufts of the baby’s matted hair more than visible.
“Look at our baby, look at our baby” she was elated, and she kissed my neck.
That was what pushed me over the edge, that kiss. I knew I was close with the dribbling, but I couldn’t hold any longer. The stream of cum flew out into a gigantic arc and splattered into your tummy, soon followed by a second and third splatter until the force behind it had dissipated and all that was left was another dribble into our combined hands.
I stared at the fluid as it slid down your belly but Georgie wouldn’t let it travel too far, moving past me to rub it into the giant mound you held in front of you.
Her sticky hands slid down the side of your belly and rubbed the wet liquid into the hand you were gripping your inner thigh with.
“You feel that babe… your pushing has looked so sexy you’ve made him cum that much… and it’s all for you and the good work you’re doing with the baby… now… let’s see the head!”
You grunted again. Turning your head away from Stella you wined “it’s coming, I can feel it stretching… I’m burning, I’m burning!”
Georgie’s hand drifted inward, providing gentle counterpressure against the emerging head.
“What are you doing?” you practically screeched, trying to shuffle backward but blocked by Stella’s firm presence. “It needs to—fuck—come oooout!”
“It’s gonna come, baby,” Stella soothed, peppering kisses along the back of your neck and rubbing a hand up and down your belly when your lips turned down into a pout. “Just not too fast. Gotta keep mama safe too.”
“Plus this way it’ll last longer,” Georgie added wickedly, fingers tracing the modest crown in fascination.
In the space between contractions, you were grateful for the pause, the time to revel in the beauty and strength of this moment - your naked body, soft, round and full, growing and nurturing life and then labouring to bring it forth surrounded by all the people that created this family. You cupped your palm around the dome between your legs, wincing in anticipation of everything still behind the skin breaching the small hole at its peak.
“I believe you promised that crowning would come with an orgasm,” you sighed, leaning heavily against Stella.
“I believe you’re right.” I looked wicked, and though you missed it, you were certain that I had winked.
You were kind of joking - now that it was happening, you couldn’t imagine how that would be possible - but then you felt my hands replace yours. I moved them out, massaged your thighs and relaxed your knees open even further. I drifted a finger over the glazing work on your stomach. My finger then pressed into your clit, which was prominent and distended with the baby’s head pressing out beneath it.
“It’s- it’s coming. Another one’s coming,” you warned, licking your lips as your breathing picked up.
Stella slipped out from behind you and I slid my hands under your ass, pulling your hips forward so that you were lying flat on your back. Stella and Georgie each hooked an arm around the back of one of your knees and hiked them out and back, pinning your legs practically down to the bed.
“How am I supposed to push like this?” In response, each of the girls took one of your breasts in their mouth and began to suck. You gasped, instinctually reaching behind to grab hold of the headboard and arching further into the warm, wet heat of their mouths. The pressure mounted and you pushed, howling as the unbearable burn returned. As if they’d practiced, Stella and Georgie simultaneously took your nipples between their teeth and gave a little tug, lapping and swirling the area with their tongues – your hips would have bucked if they weren’t held in place.
This continued in a cycle, you giving little pushes only to be distracted by pleasure, then giving in to the pressure long enough to stretch a little more only to be overtaken once more.
A different kind of tension began building in your core, always just beginning to surface when it was drowned out by the pain of a contraction. Your hands let go of the headboard and darted between your legs, fluttering uselessly around the tight circle of flesh that was so close to giving way, but also seemed to retreat at the last second.
“Please, more. I need more. I need—“ you hissed in frustration as another contraction began.
“I know, love,” I said, as if I’d been waiting for you to beg. I’d been enjoying the show, and knew your body well enough to know what you needed even when you didn’t. I grabbed the little vibrating wand from the nightstand and waited until everything picked up - Stella’s and Georgie’s kisses, your grunting pushes, the pressure behind the bulging head - and then flicked it on.
Your body jerked when the vibe pressed against your clit, causing you to scream in surprise.
“Keep pushing,” I urged, firmly holding one of your hips and the toy in place.
You started panting, writhing and gasping for breath and sanity against the conflicting powerful sensation zinging through my body. “Unghh, nghhhhah!” You managed to focus some energy on pressing back against the pressure bearing down in your hips.
“Good girl, more,” I instructed, other hand now moving to gently press against the skin surrounding the tight crown.
You took one deep breath and held it, bearing down with more force than any of your previous pushing attempts. You howled, your hole stretched almost to the point of breaking. Time seemingly stood still for you, but only a moment later the pleasure finally, finally peaked.
“Ffffuuuuuuck!” you yelled as your climax rolled through you, the waves of muscle contractions adding to the effort of your pushing and relaxing the tissues just enough to allow the huge head to finally slide through, another spray of fluids released behind it and spraying onto me and the bed.
“Guess we’re gonna need another towel,” Georgie said, looking at the mess and pressing a kiss into your temple. “Good job, mamma.”
You could only nod as you breathed deep, ragged breaths coming down from the sensations that coursed through your body, the feeling of fullness between your legs abated somewhat, but there was still fullness around the baby’s neck… and the ever present feeling of shoulders just behind the entrance.
It must have only taken a second or two before Stella had dug two fingers back between your legs leaving you to gasp at the intrusion.
“Sorry” came her apologetic announcement “but I need to check for a cord.” Her fingers circumnavigated the neck and you felt a slight tug as she pulled on the cord making sure it had plenty of movement. She suddenly let out a squeal of pleasure as the head turned and we all got a proper look at our first baby.
I know ‘they’ say parents will love a child unconditionally, and I’ll be honest, they’re probably right… but right now that baby was a squashed, bloody mess and needed a good wipe down but sure… I can see how it can happen.
“Someone support the head I need to push!” Your announcement was sudden and broke us all out of our reverie. Georgie had thrown another towel down under your ass and the baby to give somewhere to lay it down on after it was born so she was closest, barging me out the way to be involved. Your eyes scrunched up and we were back to pushing once more.
I stood by your lower quarter where you rested your leg against me, Stella scooting around to grab your other leg and together we urged you on to push. Together we operated as one, your downward force and the two of us opening your pelvis as Georgie’s fingers slid into your opening and pressed down on your skin, guided out the first shoulder, then soon after the second.
You gasped, announcing the relief was impossible to measure and soon after the slippery infant was lifted up from between your legs, you gave a yell of success and the messy bundle was placed to rest on your belly.
“Go mamma… it’s a boy!” she announced. In parallel, your body flooded with hormones and tears flooded your eyes. We knew you were expecting one of each, non identical twins in their own sacs… we found that out from the scans we’d been having - what we weren’t sure was which would be born first as the babies had been awkwardly placed when room ran out in your womb.
Tears continued to leak from your eyes and this little body jostled up and down on your chest in time with your own silent cries. Stella leaned back on the bed to pull you closer into her side as you buried your face against her for a moment, entirely overwhelmed.
Seems our firstborn child was a son… what we didn’t know was how soon he’d be joined by his sister.
“He’s so beautiful, babe,” Stella said, kissing the top of my head and rubbing a soothing hand up and down my arm. “So proud of you.”
You nodded, took a shuddering breath, and finally looked down at our son. He was waxy and red and scrunched and a bit cone shaped… and the most beautiful thing you’d ever laid eyes on. Georgie had come over with a towel and started to rub the baby down to get off most of the vernix and birth fluids.
I in turn pulled one of the soft baby blankets from the pile beside the bed and pulled it over the two of you as you both got to know each other. After a few minutes he seemed to settle, recognizing the scent of your skin and surrounded by warmth.
The flutters in your stomach reminded you that you were only halfway done, but the contractions were weak and sporadic and it seemed as though his sister was going to take her sweet time coming out. You twisted your hips and stretched as the ache began to settle in from being in this position for too long.
“Alright?” I asked, wondering at the discomfort evident on your face. “Contractions?”
“No,” you shook your head. “Well, yes, but nothing to be bothered about yet. I’m just—maybe help me sit up?”
Stella and myself sprang into action, propping you up and shoving pillows behind your back until you were semi-upright.
“Better?” I asked.
You nodded. “Much.” The shift in position jostled the baby and he got restless. After a moment, you realized his movements against your chest weren’t random — he was rooting. “Oh! Oh, you’re hungry.” You pulled him a little to the side, but he still wasn’t quite in the right position. “A little help?”
Stella shoved another pillow under your arm as I reached to nudge the baby’s head toward your nipple. When he still wasn’t latching, I scooped a hand under your breast, filling my hand with it and aiming it toward the baby’s mouth like a bottle.
“There it is,” I said as his mouth finally closed around your offered nipple.
“Oh that’s so strange!” You said, looking up at each of us in wonder. You giggled, cried a little, went back to smiling. Once he’d gotten the hang of it, he sucked like he was starving.
“Be sure to leave some for your sister,” Georgie chastised lightly, brushing her fingers over his thigh and up his side.
As if listening to her, he released you with a wet pop and a soft mewling sound. You put a hand behind his head and brought him up to your shoulder, gently rubbing and patting his back until he released a soft hiccup burp. Once he settled again, your own eyes began to drift closed and you realized just how bone tired you were.
“Why don’t you take a rest?” Georgie suggested, kissing one of your still-bent knees.
You released a whine of protest as Stella gave your arm a sympathetic squeeze. “We’ll take good care of him, I promise. You should try and sleep if you can.”
“It’s funny,” you said, handing the baby off to me, now shirtless in preparation for some skin-to-skin time with my son, “these early contractions seemed so unbearable before; now they’re just a minor inconvenience.”
As I snuggled in beside you - and Stella and Georgie beside me - you drifted off thinking maybe, just maybe, the second birth would be a little easier than the first.
Wishful thinking.
I listened contentedly to the sounds of the room - your sighing breaths as you seemed, somehow to drift off, and the mewling noises of the baby as he became accustomed to his new found freedom.
About 15 minutes had passed as Stella looked up and over at you. “Is she asleep? I mean… how. Isn’t she having contractions?”
Georgie piped up “yeah but she’s also pushed that big blob out… that’s got to take some effort” pointing towards me and the baby.
“Hey!” I retorted “our son is not a blob… he’s cute and chunky!” The three of us had a little giggle between ourselves as your eyes opened. I put my fingers to my lips, and announced “shhh” to the other two as you smiled, laid your head back and closed your eyes again.
The two ladies got up off the bed and picked the baby up off me as they walked over to the crib and wrapped the newborn up in a swaddle and laid him down. His own ordeal seemed to have worn him out as much as his mum as the baby’s eyes were closed and he nodded off as soon as he was laid down.
I decided to get up. Placed a kiss on your forehead as I pulled a blanket up to cover you. I announced I was going to jump in the shower and wash off some of the grime and muck that covered my hands and arms. Georgie decided to follow me as Stella announced she wasn’t going to take her eyes off the baby.
We got under the warm water and had only about 5 minutes of relaxing into each other’s touch when we heard your grunting. We nodded at each other, mutual understanding that things were starting to happen again as we shut off the water and started to towel down heading back toward the bedroom.
We got into the room to see you out of bed and bent over the crib, you and Stella staring at the contented baby inside. You turned as you saw me enter and grinned “time for take two I think.”
I walked to greet you in the apparent mid point of a contraction as you turned and leaned into me, your back and shoulders against my chest. You let out a groan as I captured your belly - noticing it seemed a lot looser - not really surprising considering - and held it. The feel of the contraction was evident. You rested against me, legs parted wide as your groan echoed around the room.
You suddenly held your breath and closed your eyes. “That’s it girl, big strong push, let’s get baby sister out okay” - the words of encouragement came from Stella who’s eyes had followed you as you moved around the room.
Another grunt, another push and your hands pressed into your thighs. You leaned forward and I felt your ass stick out to and press into my own belly. You shimmied - yes, shimmied, down my torso as I felt your ass slide down my body and rest in my crotch. My hands moved from your belly and grasped your hips as my fingers pressed into your lower back. “That’s it… right there” you groaned, the pleasure evident. “Stick them in me…”
Georgie could only giggle. She caught sight of my uncomfortable situation between my legs as she announced “I don’t think that’s what he’s thinking of sticking in you!”
A part of you was tempted to let this play out and feel what it would be like to have me inside you right now, like this. But the bigger part of you was so incredibly sore, tired and already aching with fullness once again. You reached between your legs but there was nothing to feel yet, not even a bulge to indicate our daughter was close to making her appearance. You pulled your hand away with a hiss as another contraction forced you into a pained hunch.
“Mmmm. Whooo. Oh, it’s already hurting,” You groaned as you pressed back into my hands, spreading your legs further apart as you let gravity and some gentle pushes bring the baby further down.
“I know, mama, but you’re almost done,” Stella soothed, giving the baby in the crib one last look before fully turning her attention back to you. She got to the side of you and cupped your quivering belly, letting you lean into her shoulder as I held your hips and spine. “Just keep pushing and she’ll be here before you know it.”
We stayed like this for several contractions, progress slow and steady, the only movement gentle rocking on the spot. At some point Georgie had placed a small mirror on the floor between your feet so that we could all watch each push with anticipation. At first there was nothing much to see - your already red, loosened hole fluttering open and closed around nothing; a few drips of stringy fluid reaching to the floor; the occasional pair of fingers peeling back your lips, probing the area, searching. All the while I suffered with you, the strain in my cock reaching painful levels in itself.
Then it finally happened, taking you by surprise once again. Pressure peaked, a hard push, and then a release of a huge gush of fluids. It drowned out the mirror, but you didn’t need it to know the baby had dropped dramatically into position. You gasped, nearly dropping into a deep squat if it weren’t for me and Stella holding you in place.
“Wanna—ngh—push on you,” you grunted as the burning returned — she was close.
“I think you already are,” I pointed out with a laugh, adjusting the position of my hips against yours.
You shook your head, but waited until the contraction had finished before elaborating. “Bed,” you commanded, pointing and nudging me in its direction, and I obeyed. I sat tentatively on the edge, but you chased me on your hands and knees until my back was against the headboard. Only then did you pause, your knees by my hips, and sit back on your haunches, on my lap, facing me.
You shimmied forward almost up onto my stomach until your opening was pressed up against my hard, erect length, your hands holding onto my shoulders for support as mine gripped your hips, pulling you even closer. Then, when another contraction started, you pushed.
“Fuuuck,” I groaned, my fingers digging into your ass as your vagina bulged and pressed into my dick. “Fuck, I’m close.”
“Me too,” you joked with a breathless laugh, which turned into a moan as you bore down again.
“Yes. Push, baby, push,” I encouraged, trying and failing to keep my hips from pumping on instinct.
You didn’t have such control, and tilted your hips forward and back, rubbing your clit against my engorged length in a desperate attempt to balance the stinging pain with a tiny bit of pleasure. You squeezed your knees to keep yourself pressed up against me as you leaned back, surprised but relieved to find Georgie right there to help hold you up. You leaned against her chest and she reached under your arms, stroking down your belly to between your legs to take over stimulating you while Stella, who seemed to appear out of nowhere, toyed with your nipples and massaged your lips with her tongue until they parted for her. She swallowed my groan as you pushed, finally releasing the hold keeping your knees in place so that they could widen.
“Coming, it’s coming,” you panted, the warning morphing into a cry as the head bulged obscenely outward, pulling your lips tightly away from your body, like a little volcano about to erupt into a full crown. “Are you?” you asked, unable to see the state of me from this angle over your still round stomach.
I’d lost control… unable to respond. My body was shaking, massively over stimulated. In front of my eyes you were pushing once again, the two other ladies joining in to give you support and what could only be described as a sensual massage as I basically lay there a quivering mess. I tried to say something - anything - but all that came out was a groan of my own. I felt my crotch pulse… usually the surefire sign of cumming… but nothing came out. I was dry. Between the sheer amount of times I’d ejaculated today I was basically spent.
You’d started to feel the contractions more and more and by this point you were leaning forward, ass in the air, your face buried into my chest where I could feel the heat of your breath on me as you sucked in a breath, roared it out, and sucked in once more.
Stella held one hand whilst you had the other scrunched hard into the bedclothes and mattress whilst Georgie had moved around behind you and had started applying oil around the tight ring forming around the baby’s head.
That’s when we heard her panicked gasp. Stella was the first to realise and asked what was up.
Whilst there was a certain protrusion now between your legs which was no doubt the next baby… it was certainly not the baby’s head. The baby was coming out breech. And to make matters just that little bit worse, her legs were tucked up inside you making everything all the more complicated - and bigger - to push out.
“It’s burning already” you cried. “I thought I’d nearly had the head again… I’m… i’m…” you lost focus on what you were saying as you put all the force you could muster into pushing once more, the need overwhelming you.
“My back, my back!” I cried, letting off the push as the unusual position of the baby put pressure on the nerves there. Any progress I’d made was lost, and her bum disappeared back inside. At least it took the edge off the burning.
“What’s wrong, love?” Stella asked as you removed yourself from my lap and crawled to the other side of the bed. “I know we were hoping for another head-down birth, but it’s not like we didn’t prepare for this.”
“Pretty common, really,” Georgie added, giving your thigh a little pat as she tried to reassure us both.
“It’s not that, it’s — ah, fuck!” It was a little that, but mostly it was that the contractions now felt like daggers in your spine. Your arms gave out under you so that you were laying on your side facing me. You grabbed for my hand and squeezed, twisting and writhing in a futile attempt to find some sort of relief even as Georgie and Stella attempted to hold your legs apart. You never got more than a couple of half-hearted pushes in before you’d cry out and shift uncomfortably.
“You have to let her come,” Georgie soothed, a little shaken by your inability to focus.
“I can’t- I don’t know why it hurts so much more this time.” You brushed a hand across your slightly deflated belly before balling it into a fist and jamming it into the small of your back. “Help me,” you whimpered, too tired to help yourself.
“Let’s try a different position,” I suggested, rubbing my thumb across your knuckles in sympathy.
You nodded, but the next contraction was already starting. “Mm, hurry,” you warned as the three of us not currently pushing out a baby hurriedly flipped you over so that you were on all fours. Your arms were shaking, so no sooner had you got into position, you dropped to your elbows, burying your face into a pillow as your ass stuck up in the air. You felt someone’s hands – unmistakably female - on your thighs, traveling up to spread apart your folds.
“She’s right there,” Stella said. “I can still see her little bum sitting right inside you like this.”
“Want to try giving a little push for us?” I asked, close to your ear.
You gave a little grunt of acknowledgement, hunching up and bearing down as best you could. The burning instantly returned and you hissed, tensing your legs and clenching the pillow in a death grip.
Georgie tsk-ed. “Focus that energy, mama.” She cupped her hand over your bulging sex. “Right here now.”
You released a shaky breath, pulled in a fresh gulp of air, pressed back into her palm, and pushed.
“There you go, just like that,” she praised, tracing her fingers around my tight hole.
You rocked back and forth with each push, as if the added momentum would get her out faster. But over the course of several more contractions, you could never get her out past a modest crown.
“I think I need to stand,” you finally huffed after the last push had you seeing stars. It was hard to breathe in this position and your legs were starting to go numb.
Georgie wasted no time in dropping a towel on the floor while Stella and I helped you slide your legs to the ground. You planted your feet wide and pressed your hands into the mattress, belly and tits pulled low by gravity and half a newborn butt bulging out of your vagina. “I must look so hot right now,” you joked, once again leaning forward so that you were on your elbows.
“Honestly?” Georgie said, giving my pose a once over.
“Incredibly hot,” I finished for her, giving your ass a playful bite as I made my way to my knees between your legs.
Another contraction wound its way through your belly and around your back, and you gritted your teeth to keep from crying out.
“Push, mama,” I said, sensing your hesitation.
“Hooooo,” you breathed out with the push, bending at the knees as the pressure barreled down between your hips. “Hnghhhhahh!” You wailed as the stinging burn intensified. “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you muttered over and over as the pain not only remained, but continued to get worse. “It’s burning, why is it still burning!”
“I’m sorry, love,” Stella rubbed your back as you sobbed at the end of a contraction. “When they’re head first, you get the crowning over with and you’re basically done. But with her hips coming first, you’re gonna feel that ring of fire with her whole body, yeah?”
You sniffled, nodded. “And… how much of her is out now?”
“About this much” it was Georgie, holder her fingers an inch or so apart, but she was stood out of your line of site so you couldn’t tell.
“Numbers… or get your ass over here and show me.” The incessant pain was starting to grind on you. You blew out a calming breath. Had to keep on keeping calm, letting it get to you was a sure fire way of making things worse.
Georgie went red with embarrassment, so focused on watching the action unfold that she forgot that you couldn’t likely bend round to see her.
“Sorry babe! Silly of me. You have about 3 inches poking out of you, and each push gets us a bit more. We can see baby’s thighs and she’s kind of folded in half so you’re pushing out belly and thighs right now. And oh god it looks so strange compared to the head. But you’re doing great… let’s just hope our little miss doesn’t have thunder thighs.”
I let out the snort of a laugh before I caught it, not wanting to dishearten you, but you certainly noticed.
“I’ll have you know…” you stopped for a grunt and pushed for a few moments interrupting your flow. You roared out and grasped hold of things, the effort you were putting in was massive at this point - no doubt exhausting as well. You were left panting as the contraction ended.
“Women in my family have very sexy, sleek thighs. If that’s the case, it’s from his DNA”
Your hand shook as you reached between your own legs, feeling the unfamiliar protrusion distorting the skin there. You tried to pull gently at the stretched outline, but whimpered and flinched as it became too much.
“Just let it stretch,” Georgie coached, taking back over the job of supporting the emerging butt.
You threw your hips back into a deeper squat with the next contraction, so much so that Georgie had to scramble back to get out of your way. A guttural moan escaped you as you curled around your belly, bearing down in equal parts instinct and desperation.
It was like all the air being forced to one side of a balloon animal, all that pressure building up behind and pressing out with nowhere to release. Every part of you ached, exhausted, in some kind of pain or another — or multiple kinds simultaneously.
“I have to- get her out!” you yelled, coming off a push that held everything you thought you had left. “Why isn’t she coming out?”
“You’ve just to get her past her hips. The rest will come easier after that,” Georgie explained cheerfully.
You frowned at her even though she couldn’t see you. “And the second baby was supposed to come easier after giving birth the first time,” you grumbled.
“My thighs,” I said, which threw you off enough to turn to look at me. I was smiling, somewhat sympathetically. “She’s definitely got my family’s thighs.” You let out something between a laugh and a sob and I pushed your hair back to kiss you on the temple. “You want to try a full squat?”
You had no idea if that would help — at this point, you’d hope for nothing but try anything — but Stella and I were already turning you around to face outward.
“Hey, beautiful,” Georgie said, giving you a little peck on the lips since she was finally able to see your face. “Have I told you how amazingly sexy you are like this?” she waggled her eyebrows.
“Let’s see how sexy you feel when it’s you here in a few months.” Her eyes widened, but more out of excitement than anything else. We’d see just how long that would last. “Ooh, another. Another!” you shouted, just as I settled in behind you on the bed to hold you up.
You pressed back against my chest between my legs and hooked your arms over my thighs to keep you upright as your ass dropped toward the floor. You squeezed and pressed forward, opening your knees out wide and tilting your hips up. Stella held up a large mirror so that we could see the progress as you pushed.
“Ooooh she’s so big, she’s not going to fit!” you cried, as each push only drew you wider.
“Yes, yes she is, look!” I said excitedly, pointing toward the mirror.
She was now out to the equivalent of her brother’s whole head, and the pain of crowning was still just as all-consuming as when it had begun. “Oh god, it hurts. Oh fuck, she’s got your torso too!” you wailed as you continued to push for what seemed like forever.
“Breathe! Breathe, mama, it’s okay,” Stella soothed as your desperation caused you to keep pushing even when there was no contraction. “She’s close. She’s so close.”
You looked in the mirror. Almost all of our daughter’s body had been born, but her legs were still folded, tucked up inside and keeping you stretched to the fullest.
“Next one,” I promised. “Next contraction you’ll have her out.”
You were devolving into whimpers, the constant burn-aching between your legs becoming too much to bear. “I’m going for it” you grunted… “this better be the last one, or I’m never letting you near me again!”
Neither one of us tried to correct you or make any sort of sarcastic quip.
As your eyes scrunched down and you started to moan loudly we actually saw the baby slide forward - Georgie’s hands supporting the majority of the baby until you let out a wail, soon followed by an exclamation of “finally!”
The baby’s legs had finally came out and boy they were long. Once the feet were born they sprung back into place flopping over Georgie’s wrists who had to adjust her hold because of the shift in balance but you had done it. Myself and Stella congratulated you, kissing and cuddling you, as Georgie shouted on, otherwise too preoccupied to give you any physical contact.
You were elated. You knew you had to still push out the head, but for now you could rest. Get your breath. Relax.
It was short lived though as your body decided it wanted the head out - now. The next contraction only gave you 30 seconds of respite before you wailed “no… too soon” and closed your eyes again, the next push upon you.
“It was supposed to be quick. This part was supposed to be quick!” you lamented when the next contraction didn’t bring the head out. You’d given two strong, solid pushes, but apparently either your strength was too small or her head was too big.
“It’s okay, you’ve got time,” Stella said from between your legs, having moved to help Georgie support both you and the baby from this awkward angle.
“Time. So much time. I’m tired,” you whined, draping dramatically in my arms and making me chuckle. “Can’t you just pull her out?” Your knees, hips, feet and… everything ached and you were only partially kidding.
“We’ll do everything we can, but you still gotta push, mama,” Georgie said.
You weren’t ready for the intense burning to return, but your body didn’t care — it wanted her OUT. The next contraction came swiftly and with a vengeance, squeezing and bearing down hard before you had a chance to catch your breath.
“Push, push!” we all encouraged you, chanting in unison.
And you did, if somewhat weakly. It was strange to feel so empty and yet so full at the same time. There was nothing left in your womb / stomach area besides organs and extra fluids, but your hips and vagina burned as they held tightly to the head of our daughter.
You could feel her trying to release. Stretching and receding, stretching and receding. Her little chin emerged and you gasped as the reverse crown pried you open wide once more.
“That’s it, now you’ve got her. Big pushes now,” Georgie said excitedly.
You shifted, pushing yourself on my thighs a tiny bit so that you could drop back down, adding gravity to the weight of your pushes.
“You’ve got the nose now,” Stella narrated as we watched the painstakingly slow emergence in the mirror.
You blew out a breath, nodded, and gave one more primal yell, throwing your head back into my chest bearing down with everything you had left. The white-hot searing pain peaked, then left as quickly as it had come as the rest of the head finally slipped out, a small gush of bloody fluid following it. Finally the ordeal was over. We gathered the full family together, and shared a bond that only our family dynamic could really have.
(Pregnancy, birth, multiples, painful birth, surprise extra baby)
I leaned against the wall as I waddled down the hallway to greet you. My massive belly swayed in front of me, constantly threatening to sway too hard and knock me over. You were just slipping your shoes off in the entrance when you saw my bare belly begin to peak around the corner.
My belly had been the first thing you see of me for the past five months. It wasn’t long after I got pregnant that we knew I was carrying more than one. The speed that it grew was much faster than it would be with only one. By three months it looked like I was already overdue. Now at full term, it felt that each day I woke up I could tell my belly had grown more.
I slowly waddled out from around the corner. I was out of breath and tired. I stopped and stood with one hand on the wall supporting me and the other was bracing my aching back. I was fully naked. My huge belly being the only thing keeping me from fully exposing myself. I had grown out of my clothes long ago my hips got too wide for any of my bottoms and my belly has destroyed most of my tops.
I looked up at you and gave you a warm “welcome home!”
You smiled and greeted me back, coming closer to place your hands on my stomach. I closed my eyes and let out a small gasp. The skin on my stomach had become very sensitive as I grew. I hummed with pleasure as your hands rubbed circles around my tight skin.
“Ugghh,” I groaned when an ache bloomed from deep inside me. My belly contorting along with it. You look up at me with concern and excitement. I look up and meet your eyes nodding yes to the question I knew you were asking. I had been having contractions all morning and at this point I was positive I was deep in to my labor.
“They’re coming,” I say with a mixture of excrement snd nervousness in my voice.
“Then let’s get you more comfortable,” you suggest and begin to lead me back down the hall.
We don’t make it more than a few steps before the ache in my belly tuned into full on pain.
“Here comes a contraction,” I grunt out. You hold me and help keep me upright as I breathe through the pain. When it ends we continue our journey. We had turned the guest room into a home birthing center. With a bed in the corner, a birthing pool in the center of the room, and plenty of supplies.
“Where would you like to go?” You ask as we enter.
“Umm, I guess the birthing pool. Taking some weight off my hips would feel so go- oouuuhhhh,” my answer turns into a wail as a contractions starts up again.
“Might be time,” I gasp between deep breathes. “Check me before I get in.”
You nod and come up behind me. You slip a few fingers in to check to see how dilated I am. I get my answer before you even open your mouth. Your shocked expression clearly telling me the first baby is right there.
“It’s already starting to enter your birth canal,” you confirm and begin to help me into the pool faster.
The babies head had slowly inches its way out for the next twenty minutes. I grab! at the sides of the pool and push. I gasp and moan but it seems like there’s no end. I was getting tired and I still had two more babies to go.
“No- noo- ohhh again! I have to puushhh!” I cried out and bore down again. The head was behind my lips causing the skin to bulge outward. You watch from the edge of the pool. With your hand in the water ready to catch the baby.
I let out a scream as the head rushes forward out of me. “The heads out!”
I don’t stop after that I push again desperate to get the rest of the baby out.
“One more push,” I grunt and push. Just as I said the baby slide out with this last push.
You pull it up from the water and place it on my chest.
“A baby girl!” I say, finally able to take a moment to catch my breath and admire the baby.
It was short lived as the pain of my next contractions began. You take our first born and placed her in a near by bassinet. This time I knew what I was doing. When you came back and say I could push, I grabbed the wall of the pool and bare down hard.
“Get OUT!” I screamed and push. It was bigger than the first. But between being more desperate to get it out and my hole stretched from the first baby, the head of the second baby was making its way down faster than the first.
“Help me up,” I whine when the head is just barely outside of my lips. “Need. Ughhh. Gravity.”
You nod and grabbed my hands. With a lot of effort on both our part we get me to my feet. I place my hands on your shoulders, bend my knees slightly, amd push hard.
“Auuuuhh,” I groan and push. The head peaking further out. “Come- uuuuu- on!”
I bear down again and again, when finally I feel it all move quickly and painfully. The head slipping from my hole. You move your hands to between my legs just in time for me to give one last push to get baby number two out.
“It’s a boy!” You cheer and hand him to me.
You help lower me and baby down to a sitting position in the pool so I can relax. For a bit we’re able to actually take breather. Baby number three taking some time to want to come out.
“Oh- take him“ I suddenly say after a bit and hand over our second child to you. “It’s time for number three.”
The weight of the third baby is much heavier than the last two. The head feels much larger too. I toss my head back and try to focus on breathing it quickly fails when breathing turns to screaming. “Ahhhh! It’s. It’s so much bigger!”
“Help me to the bed,” I urgently plea as the contraction ends.
You nod and don’t hesitate to begin to help me move. I looked down at my half deflated belly, still massive and hanging heavy on my body. It was much lighter with two of my babies but with how exhausted I was it still took a bit to get me to bed. Which meant I didn’t have enough time to get into bed before my next contraction. Resulting in me bent over gasping and pushing with my hands on the side of the bed.
“It’s coming!” I scream, pushing. “It’s going to tear me open!”
You look down and see that what I’m saying might be true. The skin is already pulled right and just the beginning of the head is out. Still my body pushes and the head stretches me further. There was no stopping it.
“It burns!!” I cry. I bury my face in the bed letting out a scream as I push against and again. When the head finally pops free. My legs barely keep holding me up as I moan and grunt through the last few pushes until the baby falls into your waiting hands.
“I did it,” I gasp. You help me to the floor and hand me our third baby.
“You did do it!” You say and kiss my forehead. “I’m so proud of you.”
“It was all worth- ah!“ I get cut off by a familiar pain running through me. I look up at you with panicked eyes. “There’s a fourth baby.”
I don’t have time to register your reaction before I’m screaming out in pain. You rush over and take the baby in my arms away. I very quickly fall to my side lift a leg up.
“It’s big!” I cry out. My eyes looking like I’m on the verge of tears. “I don’t know if I can- ah! Push another one out!”
Even though I said it I knew that I had no choice. I began to push even if I didn’t want to. The baby moved slow through my abused birth canal. Each push was long and painful and continued to give little results.
“Help,” I whine at you after the latest contraction. I’m exhausted. My body lays limp on the floor too tired to sit up.
“Let’s try on all fours,” you suggest nervously.
I reluctantly nod. We get me into the new position and it does seem to help a little. I scream and push and the head seems to move further than before. By the time I’m at a full crown, my head is resting against the floor and my abused, destroyed and bulging hole is up in the air.
“Almost… there. Just a little more and it’s out,” my screams have turned into please and whines. “One more push….”
I grunt hard and push. The head finally pops free. “Oh yes!”
I gasp and with the little energy I have left a focus it all into getting the baby out of me. It only takes one more push with everything I have to get the fourth baby out of me. You quickly catch this one just like the last three.
“You did it!” You cheer. Holding the baby out for me to see.
“I did it!” I gasp out. I let myself fall to the floor too exhausted to hold myself up. I keep looking up at you and you catch my gaze snd smile even wider at me.
( Please be advised this story has very graphic details of birth. For mature audiences! )
The prince watched as Amelia layed under the covers. Her body was twitching wildly with mounting agony. He had called for the midwives. They were rushing around the room, preparing all the necessary supplies for the delivery of his gigantic baby.
Amelia was feverish and moaning as the pains grew stronger and closer together. The midwives kept the warm quilt tight around her to protect the baby. The heat from the powerful contractions made it harder to concentrate and comfort on the large bed. Amelia wanted to cry out and throw off the covers and push against the monstrous pressure at her throbbing folds.
As the princess laboured, the prince remembered the night he had pumped his seed deep inside of her. The sheer intensity was completely incredible. He had never felt anything so primal and intense before in his life. It was unforgettable. The sudden cry of another pain slamming into the princess brought him back to present moment.
Amelia was shaking. Breathing in and out and rubbing her immense core underneath the protective covers, she began to beg to be checked. She wanted to be free from this cocoon and bear down hard. She wanted to feel the relieving reward of pushing her baby out of her pounding womb.
The midwives hurried to her bedside and supported her as she tossed back the bedding. She cried out as the midwives looked and gasped at the huge dome starting to show at her aching lips.
It was more than ready to start to give birth. Amelia moaned deeply and grunted as the next surge took her swiftly and painfully. She pulled her legs back and fully exposed herself to the room. She bore down with a strong, long effort. The prince was in shock! Staring long and hard at the crowning head, he was in total awe of her amazing strength.
Amelia pushed hard for the next hour, hoping to make quick progress. The size of the baby had other plans! It was almost impossible to move despite her strenuous work. She clutched to her supporters and fought as hard as she could every time the pains came. She twisted wildly on the large bed, groaning with the horrible pressure. The stretching was agonising. Every time she pushed against it, it burnt and spread but didn't free the oversized crown at her swollen entrance.
As the second hour ticked by, Amelia was sobbing and begging for any type of relief. The prince stood near her and encouraged her to keep focused and strong with her labor. She pushed louder and longer without much progression. The senior midwife encouraged the prince to assist the princess to lean against him. She hoped gravity would help the suffering woman. The room was rewarded within minutes as the princess felt movement. She pushed and gripped strongly to her prince.
The princess crumpled forward as the pains doubled in strength. She could feel the most powerful shift of weight. The heaviness dropped through her! Amelia clawed at his solid arms and bore down with louder efforts.
It was coming! It was finally coming! There was no way of stopping it! Primal growling filled the chamber as pain after pain, push after push, the head pulled her to the ultimate point. The approaching delivery was reaching towards its dramatic end.
"Oh darling, please don't leave me now! It is so close! So ready to come! Oh here it comes! I need to push! I need to push harder than ever! I NEED TO PUSH! I NEED TO GIVE BIRTH!"
Frantically, the princess widened her position and squeezed down with an extremely long effort. She was using up all of her strength to get it out. Get it out fully! She closed her eyes and roared as the fullness became totally unbearable. Shaking, she heaved and shoved down with the last of her willpower.
Erupting forward, the enormous head erupted in a flood of birthing fluid. Within minutes, an second wave of agony delivered the massive infant onto the bed sheets.
The princess was totally exhausted but was relieved it was over. The prince kissed her sweetly. He whispered to her how proud he was to have such a brave princess. She whispered back that she couldn't wait to do it all again to give him more heirs in the future!
🤰🍼🏠🔌 🩲 🫴 🖐️ ⌛ , alone/unassisted birth, everything else is up to you ❤️
A Young Lady's Debauchery
CW: Breech birth
Alexa loved feeling full. More specifically, the feeling of being so close to bursting and then the release. Dressed in lingerie that barely fit her, overdue belly drawn taut, naval popped out, engorged veiny tits that would leak with the slightest pressure and now....she had the largest plug she could buy fit snuggly into her pussy and a vibrator edging her. She was in a paradise of feeling so ready to burst that she could barely feel the tension of her stomach tighten around her 42 week grown baby.
Alexa took a cursory glance to the cameras she had pointed at her. The cameras had been running strong for an hour recording what she titled a "cum-a-thon". Ever since she started showing, she had recorded herself fucking massive dildos, forcing her growing tits into smaller bras, etc. This was likely the last time she'd get to enjoy herself before she went to the hospital for her induction tomorrow. The recordings were for herself first and foremost; what better way to get off than to yourself at your most massive? She consider posting them one day just to see how people would react. God, the thought of other people seeing bursting at the seams made her body quiver.
"Hoooo shit, " Alexa lent back, pressing her vibrator on her clit. The sides of her belly constricted, her body spasming as she finally succumbed to the build up of pressure and impending orgasm. Alexa howls as fluid spurts around the plug and her reddened belly constricts. The pain she should be feeling was drowned in her pleasure.
"Hoooly fuck it feels so good," Alexa moaned, dropping her vibrator to give her clit a rest.
Alexa shifted to her hands and knees, letting her belly and heavy breasts hang below her. Gravity just made everything so much more weighty. She clasped a nipple between two fingers and she instantly felt herself fall back into euphoric bliss. Just a slight twist made her tit leak into her hand. Her other hand rubbed the side of her tightening belly. An urge to bear down seeped into her desire to cum.
Alexa pushed on her plug lightly, moaning deep. It felt good to push with the pressure, so good. Little streams of fluid trickled through the gaps of her pussy and the plug again. She hoped that this was what labor would feel like. She rocked on her hands and knees, pushing with the pressure.
Alexa could feel the walls of her canal move her plug against her panties but then something deeper pushed against the wedged plug. Alexa's brows furrowed as a flash of pain went through her cervix and she became more aware of the pressure in the base of her belly.
"I'm so close to popping- ooooh ow ow ow huuuuugh," Alexa grasped her hanging belly. Another tightening, triggered by her stimulation, wrapped around her back and bump. The pain in her cervix ignited, dragging Alexa out of ecstasy.
"Fuck, that hurts...," Alexa turned as quickly as she could to sit on her heels.
Her belly hung even lower now, forcing her to lean back just to get a hand on the flared base of the plug. She pushed the fabric of the lingerie panties aside and pulled the huge plug out of her pussy. Her mouth went wide as she was relieved of the pressure. A flood of fluid gushed out of her with every inch she pulled until it was out. Alexa bellowed as her cervix seemed to stretch open from within.
Alexa drove two fingers into her throbbing pussy, to check how far she'd dialated. Her fingers didn't reach her cervix...nor was it a head. Her fingertips grazed the bottom and feet of her baby. Another contraction baby further into her canal.
"Hoooooo fuck, no, no, no!" Alexa took out her fingers and grasped her clinching bump, thighs quaking, as she gave in to the urge the bear down. Her canal contoured around the massive baby despite being forced wide by the plug.
As the baby descend, Alexa's body began to heat. Her clit throbbed for a touch, her tits became more rigid. Alexa looked down at the state of her body in disbelief. There was no way this was real, she had to be in some kind of fever dream. She should be calling the hospital, an ambulance, something. The baby dropped further and her eyes rolled back as she felt the familiar pulse of pleasure.
Trembling, she put one hand to her clit. The single touch was convinced her to keep going.
Alexa's bedroom filled with her moans - labored and orgasmic. Her lust made contraction just roll into contraction endlessly, forcing her overdue baby to crown.
The panties of her lingerie started to bulge outward. First it was a slight teardrop, then it grew...and grew until it was nearly drawn taut as Alexa lost herself more in ecstasy. The thin lace, already tight on Alexa's body, dug into her skin as it stretched.
Alexa's cried out, fingers still rubbing furiously at her clit, rose to her knees just so she could free her other hand to grab a fist full of her own tit. Pushing and edging closer to cumming, her body spasmed with the force of both primal instincts. Then the ring of fire snapped her out of it just enough for her to shoot a hand to the bulge.
"So close so-haaaahaaa haaaagh!" Alexa curled around her bump, shaking. In a moment of insanity, Alexa pushed the crowning babe back slightly. This was the pinnacle of what she desire to feel; stomach taut and red from contractions, pussy so full of baby, rigid tits just fountaining milk, eyes watering from thr cascade of agonizing contractions and impending orgasm. Every push her body made she resisted in favor of staying in the moment of absurd bliss.
Her hips buck, her mouth is drawn wide in a guttural cry, her back arches as pleasure overwhelms pain completely.
"Fucking CUMMING - GAAH!" Alexa screamed, her fingers digging into her breast.
In the midst of cumming, Alexa finally pulled the cloth of her ruined panties aside. The legs and bottom fully burst out of the confines of her puffy and abused labia as she violently came. The torso and arms slid free, then the head quickly popped out onto beyond ruined bed of its mother
Alexa breathed heavily, barely feeling like she was in her own body. Below her now deflated stomach and between her still tensing legs was her baby, already squirming with life. She bent forward, still feeling the aftershocks of her ordeal, and picked up her large baby that coughed out a cry.
Alexa held them close to her milk stained chest, throwing a gaze to her still blinking cameras. She couldn't wait to watch the video...she couldn't wait to go through something like this again.
Madame de Montespan gets out of the king's bed not long after they ended having sex. Usually, she feels kind of dirty every time the king asks her to leave his bed for the night. At that moment she gets fully aware that she is mainly a sexual toy for the king. But today, she feels relieved to be able to get to her chambers as quickly as possible. She is walking through the dark corridors, holding a candle up in front of herself when she feels a cramp in her belly.
“Ah…” Her free hand goes immediately to her lower belly. “Fuck!” She whispers, as she realizes that the child in her wants to go out as soon as possible.
She is fully aware that she still has some time to labor before the things get serious, so she goes to her chambers and lies on the bed to take some rest. During the night she is able to sleep even though being interrupted by about ten more contractions.
Soon after the sun rises, Jacqueline knocks on her door as usual. She brings with her a bowl full of hot and soapy water to help Madame de Montespan get clean.
“Jacqueline, come in.” Once the girl gets in and closes the door behind her, Madame de Montespan lets her know about her present situation. “Jacqueline, I think today’s the day. I’ve been having contractions since yesterday’s evening, just a few, but they keep coming regularly.”
“You’ve been… Alright. Do you need anything? What do you want me to do?”
“For now, let’s follow a normal routine. Help me get ready.”
Jacqueline helps Madame de Montespan get out of bed and get naked. She notices that her belly has changed, it’s no longer round, it now has a pear shape. With a sponge soaked in the warm water, Jacqueline rubs all the lady’s body. She cleans her arms, neck, back, boobs and, when she is rubbing her belly she notices it gets tight.
“Ouch. Another one. Mmmmmmh… Hof… Hof…” With her own hands as well as with Jacqueline’s hands around her belly, Madame de Montespan bends slightly over and moves her hips until the pain ends. “They are getting closer together, I had the last one about fifteen minutes ago.”
Jacqueline keeps rubbing her belly for a while and then passes quickly over her pussy before going to her legs. Once the lady is fully clean, she starts helping her get dressed. They start with the white full body underwear, just like the one in which she visited the king last light. Then a special corset for pregnant women, smaller than the normal ones as it doesn’t have to squeeze the belly, just enhance the boobs. Over all these clothes goes a beautiful olive green dress with gold stitches. It fits tight on her chest and clearly shows the top shape of her pregnant belly but gets loose as it falls to her feet. Jacqueline also styles the lady’s hair, finishing it with a beautiful tiara with a handful of pearls.
When Madame de Montespan sits to get a pair of long boots on, she feels another contraction. “Mmmmmmmh… Mmmmmmmmh… Oh good. Mmmmaah… They are getting stronger.”
“Don’t you worry Madame, you still have a long way to go. There’s enough time to get to the cabin. Meanwhile, what would you like to do, maybe go to the main rooms?” Jacqueline says as she works with the boots.
“Of course not! If I show signs of labor in public, I will be taken by the guards. We should spend some more time here and once the pains get closer together, we’ll pretend that we want to go out to the gardens. That will be my excuse for the king, that I gave birth unexpectedly in the forest, fortunately with you by my side.”
Both women wait at Madame de Montespan’s chamber playing some popular card games, without betting any money, just to kill some time. Madame de Montespan gets hit by the labor pains regularly. After about two hours, her pains are about five minutes apart.
“They are getting closer. We should leave now.” Jacqueline says.
“Do you think so? We can’t spend much time in the forest, the king might send someone to fetch me.”
“Well, to be sure, I can check how open you are, If you don’t mind it Madame. I’ve done it once before to my mother.”
“Sure. It’s better to know… Do I have to lay on the bed?”
“No Madame, just move a bit to the end of the chair and spread your legs.”
“Just like this?” Madame de Montespan asks once she is positioned with her legs as far apart as the chair’s armrests allow her to do. “Don’t you need me to get undressed?”
“Well Madame, It will be easier that way, but that would take too much time. In order to do it faster, I can make a hole in your underwear.” Jacqueline says holding a small knife. She then makes a cut wide enough to let her hand pass through and leaves the knife on the floor. “Now breathe, it might be quite uncomfortable.” With one hand holding Madame de Montespan’s dress above her pregnant belly she began to insert two fingers in her pussy. “Good Madame, it seems you are about six centimeters dilated, we’d better leave now.”
The walk to the cabin proved harder than Madame de Montespan had expected. Just before getting out of the palace, both women must go down the main stairs. With each step downwards, she feels the full weight of her unborn child pressing down. Then, at the garden, she was hit by another contraction. Having no place to support herself, and being surrounded by some couples, she grabs Jaqueline’s hand firmly as it was the only way to get distracted from the pain and prevent making any labouring moans.
They get as quickly as possible out of the gardens and into the forest. Now, without anybody in sight, Madame de Montespan’s steps became slower. She keeps walking, focused on getting to the cabin. However, she is less worried about showing clear signs of labor. Now her legs are a bit spread, she keeps both hands on her belly and her posture is hunched. Some sweat drops are clearly visible in her forehead and her breath is becoming louder.
As she feels another contraction building up, she turns those loud breaths into moans and quickly changes the direction of her steps to reach for the nearest tree. With both hands on the tree, she goes down to a half squat and moves her hips from side to side.
“Mmmmmmmhhh…. hof, hof… ” Once the contraction is over, she stands up again and starts walking again. “Jacqueline, would you please go ahead and start lighting up a fire and getting the place ready?”
“And leave you alone Madame? Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’ll be alright. These pains are coming stronger and faster, but there is still time for the birth to really begin. So it makes no sense for you to keep my path when you could be doing necessary tasks.” Jacqueline’s face clearly showed her concern so she added “I should arrive there in twenty minutes, half an hour at most, depending on the contractions. If I’m not there by then, all you have to do is get back and search for me in this direction, I won’t be far.”
Jacqueline, despite still having some concerns, leaves Madame de Montespan at her labouring path. The feeling of the baby’s head at the top of her pelvis is now constant, feeling like a heavy cannonball trying to make its way out. On her way to the cabin, she endures five more contractions. Each of them forcing her to stop. To face the pain, she gets her back supported against a tree, lowers herself down a bit as she opens her legs wide apart. With both hands on her belly, she is able to feel its tightness.
Despite all the pain and the effort, clearly evident in the sweat covering all her face and neck, she feels confident to reach her destination because she hasn’t yet felt the urge to bear down and push. So, she keeps her slow but steady path. Not long after the fifth contraction while being alone, she is able to see the cabin right in front of her with a bit of smoke coming out its little chimney. Relieved to be here at last, Madame de Montespan goes out of the shades of the forest to end this exhausting walk.
Once she has already done about ten steps over the sunny wild grass, she feels another pain. This contraction hits faster and harder than she was expecting and makes her fall to her knees.
“AAAH… JACQUELINE!” She screams. As the pain keeps increasing, she puts her hands to the grown and firmly grabs some of the plants.
Jacqueline quickly comes out of the cabin and, after seeing Madame de Montespan on her hands and knees right in front of it, rushes to help her stand up and get in.
“AAAH… Just a moment… HAAH… Oh… Hof…” Madame de Montespan takes some time to rest on the ground once the contraction is over and then gets back up again and follows Jacqueline into the cabin.
Once into the cabin, Madame de Montespan is able to see Jacqueline’s work. The small room is much more clean, the bed has white sheets and a couple of pillows and over the table there are some folded towels, a couple of knives and a pair of scissors. At the fireplace there’s a small pot with boiling water and next to it a bigger one full of fresh water. The wall with the tools looks pretty much the same, but the general appearance is clearly better.
“You did a great job here” Madame de Montespan confesses. “Now it’s more cozy. Please, help me take this off. I’m very hot in this dress.”
“Sure Madame, shall I start with the boots?”
“Hmmm… Yes, sure.” She answers, realizing a rug covering part of the floor.
As Jacqueline pulls off her boots, she takes her tiara off and leaves it over the table. Then, she takes one of the towels to wipe off the seat covering all her face.
Madame de Montespan is laying on her side and breathing heavily. Even though she only wears a white loose full body underwear, she is sweating. Her hair sticks to her cheeks and her breasts are more visible through the wet clothes. With one hand under her head and the other rubbing her bump, her sight is lost in the sunbeams coming in from between some of the wooden boards. Together with the fire, they provide the main light source inside the cabin.
As another pain comes, she moves to a sitting position at the edge of the bed. Jacqueline kneels in front of her and places her both hands over her belly. “Oooooh… oooooooooh…” Madame de Montespan groans while moving her upper body back and forth. Jacqueline can feel how the contraction makes her belly get tight around the solid shape of the unborn child.
Now the contractions are coming really close together, Madame de Montespan endures a couple more of them in the following five minutes. The labour is becoming so intense that she needs to get rid of the light underwear she is wearing.
“Aahh… need this off. Aahhh… now” She says as she undresses her upper body.
“Sure Madame, you’ll need to get up”
She stands and supports herself on the table while Jacqueline helps her get the dress down her legs until she is fully naked. Jacqueline could now see how imminent the birth is. Madame de Montespan is standing, with both hands on the table’s edge. Because of the pain and discomfort of having a baby resting deep between her pelvis, her legs remain quite spread and bent. Her belly, once perfectly round, now has clearly dropped, and it’s almost flat for half a palm under her breasts.
Another contraction hits as she is still standing.
“Aaaaaahhh….. Aaaaaaaaahhhhh…… OOOOOOHHHH…. FUUUUCK!!!” A splash of water comes from between her legs. She feels the baby suddenly being pushed downwards. “AAAAAAHHH…. My waters. OOOHHH GOOOD It’s coming now!”
“Alright Madame, sit again on the bed, I’ll check you, everything is alright”
“AAAAAAAHHH… Need to push! UNNNNNNGGGGGGHHH…” She follows the unstoppable need to bear down and push while the contraction doesn't fade away. In this first push she feels the baby’s head force its way deeper between her pelvis.
Jacqueline pays no attention to Madame de Montespan’s screams and, while she is giving the first push, she drives two fingers in her just to find that the lady is not only fully dilated but also the baby is beginning its path through the birthing canal. “Alright Madame, this baby is coming now. Are you comfortable in this position?”
“Ooohhh… hooofff…. hooooffff… I’ll stay like this for now” Soon another contraction comes. She grabs firmly the bedsheets near her spread thighs and pushes screaming in pain. “AAAAAGGGGGGGHHHH…. AAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH…..”
“Push Madame! Push!” Jacqueline encourages her while rubbing a towel all over her to dry out the sweat.
After about half an hour of constant and agonizingly painful pushes Madame de Montespan’s pussy began to bulge in the shape of the baby’s head. She is still sitting at the edge of the bed but now, as she is getting exhausted, lets all her body fall back to rest between contractions. With one arm over her eyes, she moves her other hand from her belly to the burning spot her pussy is turning into. She feels it.
A waterfall of ideas quickly crosses her mind immediately after her hand felt the head just behind her pussy lips. A portrait of her last and only husband, a portrait of the king, herself on a birthing chair with her second son’s head hanging out of her, again a portrait of the king, the queen birthing in agony and another portrait of the king. All these apparently nonsense ideas just followed the evident conclusion, the head is huge, there is no other way to describe it.
“OOHHH Lord! What have I done!” Of course, this child has bourbon blood so it also has the big eggy bourbon head. She hadn't thought about it even though the signs were evident.
“Come on Madame, I can see the head of the baby!” Jacqueline says, thinking that Madame de Montespan’s words were just a result of her.
“I can’t! It’s too big! It won’t come out! AAAAAHHHH…. UNNNNGGHHHH….” Another contraction hits her, and she gives another push, as her body is telling her to do.
“Alright Madame, It won’t be easy, but you can do It. We’ll just go little by little. And I think you should change your position.”
Madame de Montespan agrees without words, only by lifting her arms for Jacqueline to help her stand. Then she gently kneels on the floor before the bed, letting her head and chest rest again. Jacqueline, with one hand under her, feeling her belly, notices it getting hard once again.
“Now push Madame! Push!” She says while driving her other hand to the opening pussy.
“AAAAAAAHHHHHHH…. NNNGGGGGGGHHHHHH……” Madame de Montespan pushes in this kind of hands and knees position, with her arms extended over the bed to firmly grab the farthest possible piece of bedsheets. In this position, the baby seems to move a little bit faster. With each push, the black shape between her lips grows a bit more. However, once the contraction is over, more than half of the progress is erased by the fighting tightness of her birth canal walls.
“You are doing so well Madame! Some more pushes and the head will be fully born.”
Desperate for this torture to be over, Madame de Montespan gives the strongest pushes to the point in the following contractions. Jacqueline helps her stretch between contractions, trying to speed up the birth, but this turns out to be essential once the head comes to a full crown. Jacqueline is surprised by its size, and thanks good for having given her the idea of doing that finger job in Madame de Montespan’s pussy. In other case, she would have had a serious tear.
Madame de Montespan doesn't consider herself that lucky though. She is feeling the ring of fire like she has never done before as her pussy is stretched to its limit.
“AAAAAAAAHHHHH… AAAAAAAAAAAHHHH…. UUNNNNGGGGGHHH… AAAAaahhhh… aahhhhh… YEESS!” After a final push the baby’s head is fully born, and she gets some relief as her lips come a little close together around the baby’s neck.
“Great Madame! It’s almost done now! Just move your knees together and your feet far apart and this baby will be born in the next push.”
She does as Jacqueline says, feeling with her tights the massive head hanging from her. As the following contraction comes, she pushes. Fortunately, the head turns out to be the biggest part of the baby. So with this final push the shoulders come out, followed by the rest of the baby, and Jacqueline catches it.
“Oh! It’s a beautiful baby girl!”
Madame de Montespan moves to a sitting position on the floor, moving one of her trembling legs over the newborn. Then she catches the baby. Although she has just gone through the most intense feelings of her life, her mind still works fast, knowing this is not over yet.
“We must leave now Jacqueline. We can’t wait for the afterbirth to come.”
“No Madame. Why? You must rest!”
“It can’t be discovered that I gave birth here. It must look like an accident. Like we two were walking in the forest when suddenly I fell and my water broke, or something like this. Otherwise, I could be arrested for disobeying his majesty's orders. So now, help me get dressed.”
With the umbilical cord still connecting her to the baby girl, she puts the white underwear and her dress back on. She keeps both clothes and the pair of boots united. They also change the towel wrapping the newborn for Jacqueline’s coat before putting out the fire.
Once they leave the cabin, they start walking towards the palace. Madame de Montespan’s steps are short but steady, as she is determined to leave that place far behind. She is supported by Jacqueline. Both women walk for about twenty minutes before Madame de Montespan feels the afterbirth beginning to come out.
“Wait Jacqueline! Grab her.” She passes the baby to her. Then, she drives one hand under her dress and her other hand at Jacqueline’s shoulder for support. “NNNGGHHaahh….” She gives a little push to birth the placenta which falls to the ground.
“Now Jacqueline, you must go and ask for help. Pretend that my labor has started and that I’m unable to move. Guide some guards here to help take me back to the palace to give birth there.”
“Alright Madame, just let me help you rest in that tree.”
Once Madame de Montespan is on the floor with her back resting on a tree, her baby in her arms and the afterbirth next to her, Jacqueline leaves her alone. Before falling asleep due to the exhausting labor she had endured, she grabs the bloody afterbirth and places it between her legs, letting it stain the dress, to make it more convincing.
Some distant voices wake her up. Jacqueline has returned with a couple of guards. Those strong men gently lift her and carry her towards the palace. They get in through a service entrance and discreetly reach her chambers. A doctor arrives soon after. Once he is sure that both the mother and the child are alright, he cuts the cord. Everybody leaves the room to let her rest.
She is laying on her bed, unable to move her eyes out of her child, truly looking at her for the first time. Then, a door opens, and the king enters the room.
“Oh, Athénaïs, my love, are you alright?”
“Sire, thanks for coming. I’m alright, I had a beautiful girl.” Being fully aware that the king is disappointed, she adds “I’m sorry that you have not seen the birth…”
“What happened?”
“Oh, it was my fault. I was walking with Jacqueline when I tripped over a fallen branch. I hit my belly and the pains began soon after. I sent Jacqueline to get some help but nothing stopped this little one from coming out of me. Fortunately, she seems to be alright.” She tells this story with a very convincing acting.
“So you did it all alone? In the forest?”
“Yes Sire.” And, noticing the excitement in his voice, she sensually adds. “It’s been so hard, I was not expecting it. I thought that being my third birth and having a normal sized belly, it would be easier. She is not that big, after all, but I swear to you that her head made me fight. I had to spread my legs as far apart as I was able to let your bastard open me as I’ve never been opened before.”
“Well Athénaïs.” The king, with a noticeable boner due to the scene he had pictured in his mind, kisses her forehead. “Take some rest now. And don't worry about me, I sure will have more opportunities to enjoy your births.”
This story is set in the palace of Versailles, under the reign of Louis XIV, and is about the pregnant story of one of her mistresses: Madame de Montespan. It doesn't pretend to be historically accurate at any point.
If you like this scenario, I recommend you check out the Dropster story At the King's Pleasure. The 2015 series Versailles also played an important role in etching these courtly pregnancies into many of our minds.
Feel free to write any related or follow-up story with vanilla pregnancies. I’ll sure enjoy them.
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At the great palace of Versailles, a twenty-seven year-old Madame de Montespan walks alone through a corridor. It’s past midnight, and this part of the palace does not have any candles to provide light. Only the moonlight that goes in through all the regularly spaced windows makes it possible for her to know where she is going. She is walking quite slowly, trying not to make any sound to get to her chambers without being noticed. She is coming from his majesty’s royal chambers, where she has been in a pleasurable sex encounter with the king. The night dress she is wearing under a dark coat is still wet in her lower part because the king made her come and squirt a couple of times.
Suddenly, she stops and makes a short gasp of surprise. She moves both her hands to her belly, to her pregnant belly, and for the first time she feels the baby moving in her.
“Oh, you’re awake, little one.” She thinks. “Sure, your mommy’s moves had woken you up.”
The fact is that Madame de Montespan is, as far as she knows, the favorite mistress of Louis XIV, the King of France. After all the times they had sex, she is unsurprisingly carrying his bastard. This is not really a secret within the court at Versailles, a king is supposed to have mistresses and Madame de Montespan became a widow a year ago, when her husband died during a battle. So, when she started to show clear signs of pregnancy, everybody assumed she was carrying a Bourbon bastard. Following the king’s orders, she never confirmed it, but it was clear for everybody that the king had a preference for her.
She is not worried at all about the other aristocrats judging her reputation for having extramarital relations. This is not her first pregnancy, she has two sons, and when her husband died, she thought that the best she could do was to get close to the royal family and try to be well-connected with the most powerful people of the country. That, she thought, would give her the opportunity to get really good positions for both her sons in the court.
This romance with the king was not planned at all but, of course, she did nothing to stop it. She knew that a widow like her is likely to end up married to some ugly and odious old man, so she prefers to be in this sinful relationship. The king, a handsome man that is about her same age, is such a great lover. He made her have her first orgasm and is able to drive her crazy in the bed each time they meet.
Even though the gossiping about her pregnancy doesn’t worry her at all, there is one thing that sure does. The king seems to have a kink for pregnant women and, what’s more alarming, for pregnant women giving birth. She discovered it about a month after her arrival at Versailles. It was time for her majesty the queen to give birth to her second child. As tradition rules, royal births must be public, for everybody to be sure that a legitimate heir is brought to the world. Madame de Montespan had been flirting with the king for a week and, when the time came for witnessing the birth, she was at the king's side. They were alerted by a guard that the queen was close to start pushing the baby out. On their way to the chamber, she could hear other guards saying out loud that the royal birth was ready for anyone interested in witnessing it.
Once in place, the king and his guests were placed just in front of the birthing bed, the queen was laying on her back and with her legs spread in some wooden stirrups. The room was quite dark, but the laboring figure was lit with some candles near the bed. Everybody was in silence and the only sound was the heavy breaths of the queen. Not long after they arrived, the queen started pushing. She was screaming during each long push. It seemed she was having some troubles in bringing the baby out, and it took her about an hour of painful pushes to make the head appear in a teardrop shape in her pussy. Madame de Montespan remembered her two births on a birthing chair. They were hard to endure, especially the first one when she was just twenty-one years old but, compared to what she was seeing, they seemed almost easy.
She understood that the queen was kept in such an uncomfortable position for the king to be able to better watch the baby coming out. The fact is that the king was enjoying each push and each scream her wife made, and everybody around could notice it because he had a boner during all the pushing state. Madame de Montespan was even more horrified when she saw how the queen had to push the baby’s head upwards, against gravity. When the queen finally pushed the whole baby out, releasing its shoulders in a final primal scream, the doctor immediately announced to the king that he had an heir.
The king was happy, but also so turned on. He had been with a boner for almost three hours, the time that it took the queen to push the baby out. He needed some relief, so he took Madame de Montespan with him to the nearest chamber. A small one with only a chest of drawers and a bed. She immediately knew what was about to happen and was not against it at all. When the king closed the door behind her, she bent towards the chest of drawers and lifted her clothes, exposing her butt. The king quickly took her hard dick out and put it in her. The king’s hard thrusts made her impact repeatedly into the piece of furniture as she screamed of pleasure. She quickly forgot the shocking experience she had just witnessed, as she was experiencing an unknown pleasure, better than what her husband had ever given her.
“YES… YES… OH… OH… OH SIRE… YEEESSS…” She begged with each of the king’s thrusts. “OH LORD… OOHH… OOOOOOOOOHHH…” She reached an orgasm and her legs began to shake. The king, noticing that she couldn’t stand herself up, guided her to the bed. She instinctively opened her legs widespread. The king got over her and continued fucking her roughly. He managed to unbutton her dress and reveal her breasts, which he began to grope. “AH… AH… OH… AH…” Her groans and her neck covered with sweat made the king imagine how she would look while birthing a baby. When that thought crossed his mind, he came in her.
Since that day, Madame de Montespan visited the king’s chamber three or four times a week. A month later, she found out she was pregnant. She was not sure how the king would react to this news, so she decided to postpone the announcement for a month. During that period, she carefully tried to get some signs of the king’s feelings about a possible pregnancy.
One evening, when she ended riding the king’s dick until they both reached an orgasm, she laid to rest at his side. Fully naked, sweating and with cum coming out her pussy, she said: “Sire, don’t you think we are taking too much risk getting me filled with your seed every time we meet? What would the court say if I end up pregnant?”
“Oh Athénaïs.” He called her by her name, as he usually does when they are alone. “Getting you pregnant is my only aim each time I fuck you.” He puts one hand on her flat belly. “I thought you already knew that. And just don’t care what the rest of the court will say. I know it will be hard for you, an unmarried woman, to stand all the gossipers making guesses about who the father of your future bastard would be, but remember that I’ll always be secretly by your side.”
“And what will happen to the child, Sire? What kind of life will he have as a bastard?”
“Don’t you worry about that. Our child won’t be like the many other illegitimate sons, born from cheap whores, whose fathers agreed in giving their surname. Our son will be the fruit of our romance, and I’ll make sure he will be a Bourbon. Of course, he won’t be in the line of succession to the throne, but being a Bourbon will help him.”
Madame de Montespan got fully sure that there wouldn’t be any problem in revealing her pregnancy after this conversation with the king. She decided that she would tell the king she was pregnant after two weeks, so as not to look suspicious. All she could think then was that she had done it. She had reached a position in which she and her sons would get a future full of wealths, and she had done it through a romance and a pregnancy with the king. What better way could exist?
About a month after being sure she was pregnant, she announced it to the king. He reacted euphorically, kissing her and kissing her belly. Their relationship became even more passionate since the king knew about her pregnancy. She noticed how her growing bump made the king get more and more excited as the weeks went by.
Now, back to the present, Madame de Montespan arrives at her chamber and lays naked on the bed rubbing her 25-weeks pregnant belly. Her belly is still small, but it grew enough for her to have to change almost all her wardrobe. In fact, now that she is laying down, her belly looks as tall as her breasts. She rubs it unconsciously because her mind is thinking about the last post-sex conversation she just had with the king. The king, enjoying her belly size and her grown breasts, confessed how he would enjoy being present at her birth.
She, trying not to look shocked, assured him that it would be a pleasure for her to give birth in her presence. However, the image of the queen screaming wildly with her legs forced open and a head coming out her pussy and pointing to the roof made her become a bit scared.
“What were you thinking, Athénaïs?” She starts thinking. “Oh, fuck! What will I do? He will order some doctor to tide me up in that horrendous thing! I will have to push a baby out of me in such an uncomfortable place! I can’t! I won’t!” As it was late, her thoughts began getting mixed with dreams in which she had a head hanging from her pussy as she tried to push the rest of the baby in the most unexpected positions.
Of course, by the following morning she feels tired, but she starts planning a way to evade the king's desires. She knows that one of her servants is the daughter of the gardener in charge of the north part of the palace. When she finds herself alone with her, she starts:
“Jacqueline, would you mind accompanying me for a walk? Today’s a wonderful day to be out of these walls.”
“Sure Madame. Do you want me to prepare some breakfast?”
“Oh, that would be great. Maybe something we can take with us.”
Half an hour later, both of them were crossing the north gate towards the garden.
“Look how beautiful these flowers are! Will you tell your father he’s doing a wonderful job?”
“I will Madame. I’m sure he will be glad.”
Madame de Montespan looked around to be sure they were alone.
“Let’s get a bit into the forest.” They get past the first trees and they stop walking. “Look, Jacqueline, I was wondering whether you could help me. Do you know any hidden shelter in this forest? Maybe some place your father uses to keep his tools or to eat and rest when it starts raining.”
“Hmm…” She realizes that this walk in the garden had a secret aim from the beginning. However, she can’t lose anything helping a rich woman so she answers: “Yes, there’s a place… A small cabin, my father uses it to take some rest. It’s in this same forest.” Fully decided to help, she adds. “Do you want to see it, Madame?”
“Sure, I’d like to take a look at it.”
They keep walking through the forest for about fifteen minutes until they can see a clearing in which stands a little wooden cabin. They keep their path until they reach the only door of the cabin.
“Can we take a look inside?”
“Yes Madame. It’s always open, and you don’t really have to ask me, it doesn’t belong to my father, although he is the only one using it by now.”
Madame de Montespan goes in first. The room is as tiny as she had judged from the outside. There is a table with a couple of bottles of wine at the right and a tiny fireplace, a repaired old chair in front of it and a small dirty bed opposite to the door. In the wall on the left, as well as hanging from the roof, there are plenty of the gardener’s tools.
“Madame, I know that whatever you have in mind must not be of my interest but, if you tell me, I could help you.”
“Well Jacqueline…” She considers having at least one accomplice by her side. “In about four months, I will need this place to be cleaned, as I will secretly give birth to my child here.”
Jacqueline takes some time to respond. She is shocked by this revelation, but she quickly realizes that Madame de Montespan is carrying a child without having a husband. So, she has a reason to bring it to the world in private, far from the crowded palace.
“Alright, Madame. Sure, I can help with that.” She takes a look at the dirty room. “I’ll clean it up and make it a bit more comfortable.”
“I’m glad you want to help me. Jacqueline, if everything goes as planned, I’ll make sure you get a better job and a better pay. But it’s important to keep it a secret. Just the two of us must know what I’m planning to do.”
“I understand it, Madame. The only person I can think of that might make some questions is my father. I’ll tell him not to come around here for some time because some aristocrat needs this place to spend some time with her lover. It won’t be the first time, he’ll understand. But, Madame, are you really planning to give birth alone? Have you done it before?”
“Not really. At the birth of my two sons, I was assisted by a doctor and a midwife. However, there were no complications, so I felt they were there just to encourage me. I’m confident of doing it alone. Also, my second child felt easier than the first. Hopefully this one will be too.”
“Well, I’m the eldest of seven brothers, so I had to assist my mother in her last births. If you want me to, I could be with you when the time comes.”
“Jacqueline, that would be perfect.”
The two women return to the palace. In the following weeks and months, they don’t talk about the hidden cabin in the palace’s forests at all. Jacqueline goes there from time to time to make it a comfortable space, but she doesn’t give any news about that process to Madame de Montespan. They had agreed that any conversation inside the palace is likely to be heard by someone else, so the best way to keep it secret is by not talking about it.
As weeks went by, Madame de Montespan noticed her pregnant belly grew. She could feel how some of her first pregnancy dresses got tighter and tighter around her bump until becoming useless. She even found uncomfortable with some of her more loose night dresses she had since before pregnancy. The child's weight increased more and more as weeks passed, so her moves turned less agile. Even after a short walk in the gardens, she feels exhausted and needs to take a rest.
Even though the other woman in the court talked about her size and how her fun with the king will bring her pain and suffering, Madame de Montespan stayed calm. Her husband was a really big man, so in her previous pregnancies she grew a bit more than in this one.
Her relation with the king improved. Now that her belly is round and tight, she spends most part of the evenings they share laying on the bed, letting the king rub and kiss her bump. Let’s remind ourselves that the king thinks she is pregnant for about four weeks less than she really is. So now she is in her thirty-ninth week, the king is excited about her size, believing she is just starting her ninth month.
Tonight she’s been asked by the king to visit his chamber. Although she is worried that her labor could start while being with the king, leaving her with no other option than giving birth for him, she knows she can’t refuse the invitation.
She goes to her chambers, where she gets ready for meeting the king. She uses a bit of perfume and styles her hair, just for the king to be able to put it in a mess. Not only that, but she also changes her clothes, going out, as usual, with just an almost transparent white dress under a coat. She knows that is the way to get the king excited, making him see her naked body as fast as possible. That is something impossible to do wearing a usual dress, they are heavy and make it difficult to get undressed sensually. With her current outfit, all she has to do is take off the coat and the king can immediately see her pregnant body’s shape. Especially when she does it in front of the fire, because her figure gets lightened from behind, making the dress appear almost transparent.
The king sees all her curves. He knows that not only her belly has changed. Her breasts are bigger and with darker areolas and her hips are wider, ready for the birth. He moves towards her and when he is close enough she takes his hands and places them on her belly.
“Oh, look what we’ve got here.” He says rubbing her navel, now pointing out. He presses it softly as she makes an excited moan. With one hand making its way to her pussy, they both start walking close together towards the bed, placed at the other side of the room. She helps the king pull her dress up until he is able to start rubbing her pussy. Suddenly she stops walking, her moans becoming louder, feeling the king pleasuring her. The king makes her keep moving until they reach the bed. She lies on it, spreading her legs and the king crawls to meet her pussy with his mouth.
“Ooooh… Oh yes… Oooh yess… Ooh Sire…” She rubs her breasts as she gets more and more excited. Her belly makes it impossible for her to see what the king is doing, but she sure can feel it. “OOHH YES… OOHH… OOOOHH… OOAAAAAAHHH…” She screams, reaching an orgasm.
The king stops pleasuring her and gives her time to get fully naked. He reaches one of the near tables to get a bottle full of oil. As Madame de Montespan lays down again, he opens it and pours some of the oil on her belly. She knows what to do now, let the king watch while she extends the oil over her naked body.
She begins rubbing her belly, which immediately turns brighter, reflecting the light of the candles. She then passes both her hands between her breasts, moving them up and down a couple of times before rubbing her whole breasts. Now that her torso is covered with oil, she starts pleasuring herself, with one hand on her pussy and the other stimulating her nipples.
“Look Sire… Aahh… Look what you’ve done… Ohh… You made me look like Venus… Oohh… I’m your goddess… Aaahh… Your pregnant goddess… Oohh… OOHH… I’m yours… AAAHH… Take me… Take… AAAAAHHHH…” Her legs shake uncontrollably as she squirts, her arms grab her belly, and she lets her head fall back to the bed. Some of the liquid has gone far enough to reach the king, exciting him even more. When she recovers herself, she looks at the king while sensually biting one of her fingers.
The king has had enough of the show and now wants to act. He starts moving towards her, slowly climbing all over her body. When he reaches her breasts, he gently bites one of them, just for a moment, before meeting Madame de Montespan’s lips. They kiss passionately for a while, until the king decides to stop. He goes off the bed and gives a hand to her to help her stand up. Then she bends over the bed, offering her pussy to the king. The king, having her dick already erect, puts two fingers up her thighs. Feeling how wet she is, he takes no time to wait before going in. She has her head between her elbows, resting on the bed, and she moans in pleasure feeling the king going in and out in the initial gentle thrusts. The king bends over her to grab her whole belly as he increases the speed. She starts to feel an orgasm building up so takes one hand to her clit to get more pleasure. When the king's thrusts turn more rough she comes, screaming wildly as she feels her legs get wet from her own squirt. The king keeps his fast rhythm, making her scream for over a minute until he comes in her, feeling her with his seed.
Madame de Montespan goes up the bed and rests side-lying, still making some groans. The king lies behind her and kisses her neck while rubbing her belly. He feels it tighter and lower than before the sex.
“Athénaïs, If you keep orgasming this crazy, this child will be born in no time. Do you feel how tight your belly is?” The king says while rubbing her belly.
“Sure Sire, any day now you are gonna pop this baby out of me.” She tries to keep a sensual voice, but she knows that the king is right. While she was standing by the bed, being fucked hard and orgasming more than ever before, she felt her belly get tight and, as the king kept fucking her, she felt the baby fall deeper in her pelvis. She is really worried because she knows that since the belly drops, the birth could occur in a matter of hours.
“Easy,” I murmur, “easy.” I show her what a deep breath looks like, trying to steady her growing panic. Her body shakes, her blue eyes wide, sweat glistens across her forehead. I rub my thumb against her knuckles, her hand gripping mine like life depends on it.
“It hurts,” she whimpers, eyes closing with a hard wince. My other hand closes around her jaw and I softly blow hair into her face to cool her down.
“I've got you, darling.”
She shakes her head in refusal, a cry bubbling up her throat, “oh. Oh.”
“Tension isn't helping our baby, please relax.” She gives me a look that makes me want to bury myself alive to recover from it. A hopeless scared gaze that makes me want to claw out my eyes on top of being five feet underground.
“Help me,” she whines, “get him out of me.”
I flash a look at the royal healers around me, their eyes mildly impatient. I give them a cold stern look that has them shifting into action to avoid my ire.
“I'm still convinced it's a little girl,” I smile, brushing her hair that's matted onto her forehead.
“There's nothing little about her then,” she groans and shifts away from me, her body locking up, “no, not again,” she cries and her fingernails dig into me. I have several of these wounds now but I can't even register it with the way I've been watching her so intently.
“Breathe,” I remind her quickly, “breath in and out. Relax your jaw.”
Her teeth are bared to the world, the entirety of her rigid, airless.
“Breathe,” I bark, my worry crawling up my mouth.
She does but the sound that leaves with it is enough to drive me over an edge. My hand leaves her face and falls onto the swell of her stomach, bare to the room, our child begging to escape it. A blanket covers her lower half and I'm tempted to tear it away to see if there is progress. A healer beats me to it, bending my wife’s knee up and opening her legs like a butterfly, blanket falling away.
“That's the sound we were waiting for, your majesty,” the midwife coos gently. “You’re ready to start pushing. It’ll all be over soon.”
Terror strikes me like a hard fist to the jaw and I sit there in stunned silence. My wife on the other hand starts a tantrum, limps a chaos as she tries to leave the bed. None of us expect this but with her so bloated, she barely makes it before I'm holding her still, pinning to the mattress. Her eyes are crazed and dazed with pain and anger.
“I am not pushing,” she hisses at me as if I was the one who suggested it.
“Are you saying that because you're afraid of the pain or because you don't think you can do it?” I challenge, raising an eyebrow. I dare to let my hand travel down between her legs, my fingers breaching the now expanded opening. I almost groan, “darling,” my head slumps towards her with near relief, “you are so close.” I feel the spot of thin hair, the curvature of a baby’s head. Our child.
“Get your fingers out of me,” she groans, whimpering.
“First I've heard that one,” I smirk. She flashes me a warning look that I eat up.
She again seems to be primed with a retort when both hands furiously find the bottom sheet. Giving my hand, wrist, and arm a break from her piercing touch. A terrified little yelp breaks from her mouth and one leg loses grip on the bedding and kicks out.
“Oh please,” she heartbreakingly pleads. So unlike my vicious wife. “Make it stop.”
I instinctively brush my knuckles to her cheek, my other hand resting low on her stomach. “You need to push, darling,” I press on her skin, “and hard. You're going to be just fine if you do that.”
She says something incoherent, a blubbering mess of raw emotion, exhaustion, and pain. Still she does what we all hoped, pushed. Her face tight with determination, chin to her chest, the sound of an animal in full heat coming out of her. She's never looked so beautiful.
“That's it,” I encourage softly and twist, getting a cold cloth for her forehead and neck. She relaxes instantly, tears streaming down her face.
“I can't do this,” she says, voice breaking.
“Of course you can,” I say softly.
She shakes her head in defiance of my words. Head tipping back against the pile of pillows behind her. My wife shrieks, her body shaking violently. “No, please, no,” she begs.
“It comes, your majesty, push,” the healer beckons.
My focus waivers between how vulnerable and how strong my wife is in this moment that I too am breathless for a spell before I am smiling, staring down at the peek of dark hair.
“I see her, darling, push oh please push.” Our ‘please’ is so contrasting that I laugh. She follows my suggestion and cries out again, this time her hand finding my forearm and holding tight. She looks at me, a face full of unabashed fear and loathing, “you did this to me.”
I still can't wipe the joy from my face so my, “I know,” comes out manic.
She whimpers, tears cascading down her face and mingling with sweat. She swears colorfully. That head of dark hair moves forward and now holds her folds open and taut. She's screaming loud enough to break the windows and I'm there, holding her head against mine, getting closer and closer. “Shh, it's almost over, you're doing so well.”
“Small pushes now, blow out, stretch wide,” the healer mimics the breathing she wants to achieve but my wife just lets out the most pathetic of whimpers.
“Hurts,” she mumbles.
“You're amazing. I'm so impressed,” my lips brush into her sweaty hair.
“Don't say that like you're surprised,” she huffs at me.
I chuckle, leaning back to take in her burning blue eyes. “I'm not surprised.”
“Just a few more pushes,” the healer coaxs.
I watch the head pop out with a bit of liquid and a shrill cry from my partner, who now pants wildly, eyes lidded with weariness. “Pull it out,” she demands, narrowing her gaze to menacing.
“You'll push in a minute here,” the healer amends for her.
“Just take it out,” she begs and then groans deeply, eyes closing quickly, “ohhh nooo” I watch in fascination as the baby starts to rotate slowly.
“Hold on, dearie,” the healer tugs the cord up and over our child’s head eliminating a threat against its life already. “Open these legs wider for me, there you go. Push, push, push.”
Thankfully my wife follows her orders. Her face bright red, and voice raising as more and more of the child emerges. Unceremoniously the screaming is replaced by the baby who now flails around in her mother's arms. Her. Our daughter. My wife and I lock eyes, her face split with adorable shock as if she hadn't just gone through all the work to make this happen. I slump towards them both, my adrenaline wearing off and I'm realizing my own hand has left crescent moons into my flesh from concern. I relax my body and take a deep breath.
“Thank gods,” I murmured to no one in particular. I look up timidly to my wife who wipes our baby with a towel and scrunches her entire chin towards her neck to get a better look at the purple screeching face. Our daughter finally has a lapse in annoyance and her eyes open, stormy gray eyes forming a perfect mirror to gaze into. My wife drops back, a lifeless laugh forcing out of her, “all that only for her to look like you.” She sounds both bitter and proud.
I grin, “she will no doubt be a stunner like me then.”
She huffs loudly but matches my smile, content with such a notion.
You have the smallest room. No one regards You. You have no access or pull for the ever busy palace doctors to take care of you. None of the other concubines associate with you much beyond the courteous greetings; they have their own pregnancies and politics to worry about.
The only thing abundant here is you. Your hips are wide, ass is full, and your tits are tight against Your low cut sleeping gown. This isn't your natural form though, it's the form that was given to You by the Emperor when he pumped his seed into you. A seed that has taken months to grow.
Your belly has swollen massively with life. Twins, You think; none of the court doctors have ever had time to confirm with all of the highly ranked and favored concubines hooking their ears. Its massive, evenly rounded shape is framed by the silk of your gown. Your stomach is riddled with stretch marks, crowned with a poked out navel sensitive to even the softest touch and so tight around Your babies that even the slightest movement changes its shape.
Your bump is low, as is the head of your first child and your bag of fluids. Your thighs are slick with only thin trickles of water. Your waters are struggling to hold together but it won't be long.
Awkwardly plodding around your room with a massive head preparing to jam open your cervix doesn't make you regret the moment you had with the Emperor. The way he claimed your body as his sends tremors through you to this day. The way his hand gripped the spot below your navel when it was not yet filled. The way his cock filled you tight to the point you could feel it tremble and grow with anticipation against your insides. The warmth you felt when his seed poured into you.
If you walked into court with twins, surely the Emperor would acknowledge your presence once more.
Your belly twists, stopping you in your tracks and forcing a moan out of you. Your stance lowers into a squat. Your massive bump contorts harder with time and causes your damaged waters to leak more than before. The pressure drives the Emperor's gift low.
Your fingers dig into your knees. You bite your lip hard as your body coaxes open the path for the Emperor's heir. The pressure wraps around your middle and back. Your inner opening squeezes against the film protecting you from the Emperor's gift.
A thunderclap of pain shoots from your crotch. Your water bag breaks onto your thighs and the wooden floor. For a moment, you experience relief in the release. But then the full weight of a baby dropped into the cradle of your cervix. Shocks of pain make you convulse and lose balance. You hang on to a nearby dresser for support during the contraction. You still don't feel the urge to push, but you can feel the head even more now.
Even as the contraction releases, it feels as though the first baby could fall through your cervix at any moment. You breathe in and out with a slight tremble in your voice.
You waddle to your bed and awkwardly heft your laboring body on to it. Laying down doesn’t make your bump look any smaller nor does it relieve the weight wedged inside you. You rub large, soothing circles around the uncomfortably taut skin of it. Soon, soon your babies will be out and the Emperor will notice you again.
Time passed at a slow crawl. You're not entirely sure how much, but it felt like eternity . Your life at this moment is consumed by a cycle of debilitating pain and desperate breathing. The contractions are on top of each other and at their maximum intensity. Your stomach is visibly contorted around the womb of your babies. But what's worse is that you feel something truly massive forcing your hips impossibly wide and making your cervix cry out to you in pain.
It's coming, the first baby is coming.
The primal urge to bear down jumps on you suddenly. You take a bit of cloth off your night stand and bite down. You draw your legs back, framing your red, sweat covered belly. You grip your thighs tightly…and push.
Your entire body quakes when you give in to the first urge. The pain in your hole makes you scream into the rag. Your misshapen belly shrinks, the head pulls open the way to your canal. Your eyes bulge out when your hips strain to contain your first baby. Your body quakes against the alien feeling.
The contraction ceases and you're left with the feeling of a huge stone keeping your legs spread. You massage your hips and underbelly, but it's no use . The pressure is maddening to the point you consider pushing without contractions. You drag in heaps of air before your back tightens and your midriff hardens.
As your canal fills with a baby, your stomach heaves and your mouth gapes in the agonizing interim. You can't even attempt to close your legs or move your hips without sending pain through your lower half.
Again and again, streaks of contractions crash into your body and then leave you . Each one pushes the baby only slightly towards exit.
The cycle of quick contractions and pained waiting finally grants you a sense progress as your labia begins to contour around the head. The crowning phase. You've heard others in the concubines court speak of this phase. They all call it torture.
You bear down and a slight teardrop-like slit opens and the base of your vagina bowls outward with the head. You scream into your rag and clench your fists around your sheets as the burn encompasses your lower half. The Emperor may have bred your fertile body too well. You can't spread your hips anymore, your back doesn't respond to your counterpressure, no contraction is strong enough to make this process any faster.
The baby is massive. So big in fact that you're not sure you're having twins anymore. A twin baby would be much easier, faster than this surely. It's too big to have possibly been sharing space with another babe. Another contraction comes, you push. The small slit of a crown opens but once the contraction and your force ebbs away, the slit closes to just a narrow opening once more.
Another cycle begins. The head continues to recede after each push no matter the strength and your a left with the sanity testing burn teasing your vagina. Exhaustion is setting, your breaths becoming more of struggle to control. In a moment of 'rest' you remember how it felt to have the baby sit heavily in your hips when you'd stand, how it felt like it would just move on its own.
You tiredly struggle to get off your back and on your knees. Instantly an increase in pressure assails. You raise yourself up oand grip the headboard with white knuckles, gravity forces the lips of your crotch to open around the massive head. You cry out, your back arches, your fattened lips bulge wider than ever before. The weight of your baby obscenely large baby is doing exactly what you thought.
But you're not prepared. The baby didn't give you time to stretch beyond a small slit causing it to turn the burn into blaze of a crown. Your hand shoots to the growing crown in an attempt to slow the progress. You sputter at being in an even worse state than before.
Then your body contracts and betrayed by your instincts you push with it. All your body knows is that you need to get the Emperor's heir out. You push against your hands restraint, fluids dripping around your fingers.
Your mouth opens wide in an airy scream and your eyes roll back as the myriad of sensations overwhelm you. You need them out, but you have no help, no one to tell you've stretched enough, no one but yourself to say that you won't tear. You make the head slowly open you against the pressure and your strong pushes. Every one weakening your resolve, forcing you to slowly ignore the fear.
The room echoes with a hoarse growl that doesn't even sound like it came from your throat. A huge pop and gush of fluids hits your bed. The large head now hangs between your stained, quaking thighs. Your body shakes at the sudden release of pressure but you know it's not over. The shoulders. You try to control yourself, but it's been too long. The lips of your crotch spread open around broad shoulders. Your counter pressure is useless against your own body and gravity. The blaze turns into consistent bolts pain as it opens you beyond your limit.
Then a contraction takes your body and your mind, making you ease your grip on the crown just enough.
Your entire body seizes in a final effort. The shoulders and arms pop out. Your belly deflates completely into an empty rounded mound as the body of your massive baby hits the bed between your legs. With the last vestiges of strength you keep yourself from collapsing on to the bed yourself. You pant loudly and reach down to pick up the Emperor's gift. The touch of its parent quickens it and the room echoes with its strong cries. The stinging and throbbing in your crotch doesn't subside. You'd worry about it later.
You ease yourself down to the bed with your baby in your hands and bunch up the sheets to your stinging crotch. Right now, you can only think about how you need to get ready for court and take your place as the Emperor's favorite.
~~~
You look quite beautiful, but everyone is taken by the massive, energetically cooing baby in your arms. The Emperor grins at you widely and lustfully. It was unsubtle, but only a few of his concubines were smart enough to trace his expression instead of the spectacle you offered. The power had shifted with your entrance.
All of the court goes silent when they see you walk in the next day, back straight and gait forcefully even. The Emperor gawks in awe. The other concubines stare in disbelief. You are as cleaned up as someone who has just given birth a mere dozen hours ago could be. Your cleavage leaves little to the imagination with the depth of the neckline and your midriff is still round enough to poke through your clothes. But you maintain the farce that you've easily birthed a thirteen pound baby by yourself.
Commission for @shhhsecretsideblog, hope you enjoy just as much as I enjoyed writing this!
Final signing of divorce papers. He’d cheated with his secretary on a business trip, she threw him out and filed for divorce. Not long after she realised her period was late and after doing a test she discovered she was pregnant. She tried to hide it from him for as long as she could, but he eventually found out. She made it clear that he would have nothing to do with this child.
The divorce negotiations were messy, lots of drawn out arguments and back and forth with solicitors. It had taken months. She wanted it concluded by now but he was dragging his heels. To what end she didn’t know. But eventually they reached a resolution and he agreed to sign the papers, which was happening this afternoon. The only problem was, she’d gone into labour during the night.
Celia wasn’t one to drag things out, neither in her corporate life or personal life, and certainly not in her romantic life. The divorce lawyer’s name was Mr. Einhardt, and he didn’t tolerate very much nonsense either. He was a sort of neutral party, tasked with settling legal matters amicably between the couple. Between this small thing they had in common, and the circumstances leading to Celia’s divorce with her husband Dave, Mr. Eindhart’s sympathies seemed to lie quite decisively with Celia. Cheating on her with his secretary, a young woman just barely out of college! So cliche it nearly bored Celia to tears. The problems had begun long before the discovery, but Celia had rehashed that story enough times by now.
Negotiations had been messy; fights, late-night arguments in the kitchen, pleading, door-slamming. Dave was acting like a child throughout the whole thing. Which was doubly unfortunate, as Celia had received a second shock after the cheating, staring at a test and two pink lines in the bathroom. She was pregnant. Nine months later, she was wedged in the office seat as Mr. Eindhart recounted estate laws with Dave.
Please, she had been praying for the last hour; please, just let it be over. Incessant questions from Dave. More often than not, about the baby. No, her baby. Celia would be damned if she let that cheating, childish scum get within a mile of her child.
Mr. Eindhart was speaking as patiently as possible, but at this point it had all become a soft drone for Celia. The last issue: she had gone into labor during the night. Regular contractions, tightening her midsection and flaring sharp in her lower back. Standing before the mirror in the light of the morning, she’d been able to see clearly just how much her bump had dropped, hanging low between her hips, stretched completely taut, a reddened torpedo, with not another inch of room for the baby. It had been enough of a chore to get dressed and ready and lug herself into Mr. Eindhart’s office every week. Laboring, it was a superhuman feat.
Her hips burned, jammed into the seat. They had widened over the course of her pregnancy, and now she barely fit into any chair available. This, combined with the massive belly sprawling in her lap whenever she sat down, made for even more discomfort.
“Ms. Greene?” Her maiden name. She saw Dave flinch slightly when Mr. Eindhart used it. “Are you alright? Pardon, but you look quite uncomfortable. Do you need some water?”
“No,” she sighed, brushing his concern away. “No, thank you. When you’re this pregnant, doing anything is uncomfortable.”
Dave was frowning at her. “You sure, hun?”
Celia scowled. She knew the feigned concern had only been prompted by Mr. Eindhart’s comment; nothing more than an excuse to use the word hun. “If you could cut it with the pet names, that would be nice.”
He rolled his eyes, tried to catch Mr. Eindhart’s eye: Women, right? A comment she’d heard frequently during her marriage, even more so with her so-called ‘pregnancy hormones,’ the ‘mood swings’ that were preventing her from thinking straight.
Today, they weren’t entirely unfounded. All she could think about was her belly, the sheet of muscle over her womb, rippling and contracting as she tried to cut Dave off from some long-winded procession of his victimhood. The baby inside, the head positioned right into her cervix, pressing with increasing urgency. She had to ignore her body for the time being. She had to remain calm and collected and—
“Listen,” Celia interrupted, leaning over her tight swell. “Could we please hurry things along?” —glaring at Dave— “We’ve been through these questions enough times, wouldn’t you say?”
“I just want to make sure we have all the information,” he protested, the slimeball. “To make the right choice.”
Celia was about to retort when she felt the familiar banding around her stomach, and clenched in on herself, riding out the waves of pain and pressure once again. She hoped that her gritted teeth and wrinkled brow could be attributed to her impatience.
Her baby squirmed, cramped in her full, brimming belly. She shifted again. Things were really ramping up. As the contraction receded, she thumbed through the pages of legal documents until she reached the last one, the blank line where their joint signatures would go, and stifled a huff of frustration. There were still at least forty pages?! This pressure was a bad sign, she knew. Soon, she’d barely be able to sit, the head felt dangerously low.
The minutes ticked by. Contraction after contraction. Her belly, hot like a furnace, wracked and misshapen with their clenching force.
“Jesus,” Celia muttered unconsciously under her breath. “The pressure….” Then she looked up to see Mr. Eindhart and Dave staring at her.
“Excuse me, my dear?” Mr. Eindhart said, head tilted politely.
Celia cleared her throat, straightened her back. “The pressure he’s been putting me through, lately. It’s, er, getting to be unbearable.”
Dave was shaking his head solemnly. “You can’t even imagine my feelings. You just can’t see the other side.”
“Oh, that’s rich!” Celia covered up her consternation with a sarcastic laugh.
Another fifteen minutes. Contractions about five minutes apart. Celia realized that she had to use the bathroom, and had to use it now. The pressure was beginning to force her legs apart, despite her efforts to keep them tightly pinched together. The weight, god, the heaviness. She felt fuller than ever, an all-encompassing fullness. It stood to reason, she thought, her bladder would be feeling the strain.
“Excuse me,” she said. “I need to use the restroom.” She painstakingly stood, unable to conceal a grunt at the weight of gravity on her sagged, bowed belly. Hoping they didn’t notice the slip of skin under her blouse that certainly hadn’t been there this morning, Celia waddled from the office and found the lady’s room.
On the toilet she suffered a contraction that had her hunched over her stomach, toes curling in her pantyhoes tights. Suddenly, eyes wide, mouth open, she felt a spike in the rising pressure. Then— a release. Liquid gushed from her crotch. Celia moaned loudly at the relief. Then she clamped her mouth shut. She wouldn’t have put it past Dave to wait for her outside the bathroom.
Panting, she rose shakily from the toilet and wiped her inner thighs and crotch. She knew her waters had broken, signaling the rapid advance of her labor.
“Please, little one,” Celia murmured. “Just a little longer. Just until it’s only you and me, no one else.”
Dave was looking at her suspiciously when she returned. Even with her effortful concealment, he’d spent enough time around her to know her more subtle forms of expression. She cleared her throat and smiled.
“Where were we?”
Mr. Eindhart smiled a bit absently as Celia dabbed at the sweat beading on her forehead. He shuffled his papers and continued. Soon another contraction was taking hold of Celia, and she stiffened, bracing herself. Still, she wasn’t quite prepared for the intensity, coming on even more severe without her bag of waters to cushion the skull. Her swollen mound flexed visibly beneath the desk. She set her jaw, her knuckles going pale as she gripped her seat. This time the pain was accompanied by the undeniable urge to push. She nearly gasped aloud. Fuck, she wanted to push. It was like nothing else she’d felt before, the deep, overwhelming desire to bear down as hard as she could against the pressure. She held her breath, counted, blinking quickly as she tried to distract herself from the urge. It only grew stronger, pounding through her body, washing over her like a compulsion.
Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t control her body entirely, and she could feel herself giving small pushes, each one shoving her baby further down through her birth canal. With some mercy the contraction began to ebb, and she floated back into the conversation at hand.
“....and, what if the kid had to list another parent as an emergency contact? That role would go to me, right?”
Celia tried to intercede as smoothly as she could, ignoring the tremble in her voice, the vicious wringing of her womb. “They’re going to have a godmother, and she’ll be listed as a secondary guardian.”
“That’s fine,” Mr. Eindhart said. “Spell her name for me, just in case?”
“Is it Shannon?” Dave asked. “It’s Shannon, isn’t it? I never liked her. A bitch, that’s what she was.”
“Mr. Gardner, I don’t tolerate that kind of language in my office. Another remark and you can go ahead and find a different representative.”
Celia flashed the elderly divorce lawyer a grateful smile before turning her attention back to the impatient baby now beginning to stretch her birth canal wide. She was giving birth at this desk and nobody knew except for her. She could do this.
A hard, clamping pain. She exhaled, suddenly breathless, though it seemed to her company that she was just huffing in annoyance at Dave’s theatrics. When the urge coursed through her, it was nearly impossible to deny.
Don’t push, she told herself. Belly gripping her midsection like a tight closed fist. Don’t push. Internal muscles squeezing around the baby. Don’t—
The need to push was dizzying. She couldn’t help it. Before she knew it, she was bearing down at the desk, thighs spread as far apart as they could manage in her seat. A flush spread to her cheeks. She pushed, and pushed, feeling the baby move downward toward her exit. She couldn’t stop, was barely even aware of her surroundings anymore. All that mattered was the baby coming out of her, the need to get it out, bear down on it with the single-mindedness of a birthing mother.
Her silent straining went unnoticed until she ended her push with a loud grunt. Suddenly there were two heads turned towards her.
“My dear, are you sure you’re okay?”
“Celia?” Dave furrowed his brow. “What kind of sound was that? Didn’t you just use the bathroom, like, thirty minutes ago.”
Exhausted, losing hope that she’d be able to hold this baby in until after the signing, Celia snapped at him. “They’ve been kicking up a damn storm this entire morning, and whose fault is that in the first place? You insist on dragging this out for as long as possible, with me ready to fucking pop” —no comment from Eindhart; he knew better than to lecture a heavily pregnant woman about her language— “so, please, can we just get this over with.”
The head was so big in her canal. The pressure was so bad. She was full to the brim, utterly stretched and gravid with the baby. She couldn’t think about anything else except the need to get it out.
“Yes, well—” blinking, Mr. Eindhart scrambled with the pages. “I suppose we can just skip over a couple of pages…. let’s see here, joint signature, page 87, please.”
“Hey!” Dave protested. “Now, wait a minute.”
Celia was picking up one of Mr. Eindhart’s elegant fountain pens…. Another contraction was coming on, she could feel it broiling in her belly…. every muscle tensing up at once, working with the singular effort to expel her baby…. raising her trembling hand to the page….
To Dave and their lawyer, it may have looked like she had gone stock-still. Really though, she was pushing. Her knuckles shone pale around the pen. She was biting her lip so hard she thought she might draw blood. The baby was moving between her legs, she could feel it. She could have sobbed. The massive head was sliding through her hips, down, down, down towards her exit. She was pushing it out.
Dave took her sudden pause as hesitation. “Oh, honey,” he said. “Look at you! Overcome with emotion, I knew it was just a charade. It’s okay. We don’t have to go through with this.”
The fullness was very low now. A new sensation. The baby was in her vagina! Her labia had begun to bulge grotesquely; the head, of course, was huge. With a laborious effort, Celia scrawled a hasty, spidery signature onto the page. The final step. Done.
She slumped in her chair, push releasing, and her belly sank as her womb muscles relaxed. Her crotch throbbed. The baby’s head was right there, sitting heavily at her entrance, and it felt as if she was perched atop a bowling ball, hips nearly splitting open with the pressure.
Dave looked at the signature with despair. Mr. Eindhart cleared his throat, eyeing him like he suspected Dave might just grab the papers and bolt with them. Instead, he reached for a pen and, even more slowly than Celia had in the throes of giving birth, signed his big, sloppy signature.
“All right,” Mr. Eindhart said, tucking the papers into a folder. “That should be the last of the proceedings!”
Before Celia could react, Dave had stormed from the room. The door swung violently on its hinges.
She knew that she should leave as soon as possible, but getting up from her seat was a monumental task. Still, she struggled valiantly to her feet, containing a scream behind sealed lips as gravity thrust the head further into her nether regions, a wet tent forming in her underwear. She thanked the heavens that she had worn a skirt today. The body, it seemed, was slipping between her hips now, forcing the head down even more. Her gait was less a waddle at this point and more a bowlegged half-squat. She bore the pain and pressure and looked Mr. Eindhart in the eye, smiling as she shook his hand.
“Thank, mm, you. For everything.”
“Please, dear. Get home, get some rest.”
She nodded, unable to speak anymore. The head, god. She was so close to crowning. It was about to come out, she could feel it. She shuffled indelicately from Mr. Eindhart’s office. ‘Getting home’ was not a feasible goal. Celia didn’t even know if she could make it to the lady’s room in time, but she had to try. She couldn’t possibly give birth in these dirty carpeted corridors! One hand following the wall, knees barely supporting herself. She was trailing birthing fluid, leaking through her panties.
Whenever a contraction struck (and they were coming on without pause or respite now) she was forced to stop and squat, grunting the baby further into her nether regions. With every push her lips bulged more and more into the fabric of her underwear, burning with the obscene stretch. Slowly, the head parted them open, and she tried to pant through a contraction, drawing from some intuition that she needed to go slow and let herself stretch, her vagina straining to accommodate the huge head. Instead she loosed a guttural groan, bearing down again until her lips had unfurled into a tight oval. She was limping now, one hand cupped between her thighs as she walked.
As she rounded the hall, the restroom came into view. Almost there, Celia told herself. Just a couple more steps. Dread poured over her as a contraction began to brew in her belly. Oh no— Celia braced herself, steadying her hands against the wall in preparation.
Just then, she heard a shout. “Celia!” Dave had been waiting at the end of the hall, and now he jogged to catch up to her. “Shit, Dave!” Celia hissed as her birth canal wrung her from the inside out. “Fu-u-uck, what could you possibly—urgh! want?!”
Dave caught her arm, too involved in his own self-pity to notice Celia’s wide half-squat, the pinching of her face, the dribbles of liquid from between her spread thighs.
“Just hear me out, okay?” He was upset. His bottom lip quivered like a petulant child’s. He seemed, absurdly, betrayed. “You love me. I know you love me, and that baby is mine. I’m its father, I have a right to meet it.”
Celia stared at him, flabbergasted, the baby crowning into her panties momentarily forgotten. Suddenly she squatted down and bellowed loudly. “OOOOOHHHH!!”
Dave backed away in fear.
“Listennn-mmmfgh!” Celia groaned as she bore down furiously. “Grrrruh! Ugh, ah! I have had it up to here with you. Fuuuuck, I’m only gonna say this one time.” Despite her deep squat, she suddenly seemed to tower over him, red-faced with fury and the exertion of birth.
“Get out of our lives.”
Dave glanced at her in consternation, then scurried down the hall and hopefully out of her life for good.
Celia’s legs finally gave out and she dropped to her knees, unable to withstand the searing pain and pressure spreading her wide open and filling her so completely, it was as if there was no room for anything else anymore; no Dave, no legal documents or income discussions, not even herself or her identity as anything but a mother. Everything was focused on the baby coming out of her, crowning her most sensitive, private region. She gripped her thighs and bore down. Then she pushed her hips back, opening them, and rested her heavy body on her hands and knees. An animalistic urgency coursed through her. This primal position felt good, felt right. This was what she needed to be doing. Pushing, without any other concerns.
Her skirt rode up, exposing the apex of her thighs, her sodden bulging underwear, soaked fabric revealing what was happening behind it. The head slipped further out. Her lips formed a burning circle. Celia’s groans tightened and rose in pitch and she strained, the head unmoving as a boulder for a nerve-wracking second. A full-body shudder. Celia’s eyes rolled back in her head as she pressed her chest to the floor and sloped her rear end into the air, pushing with all she had.
The head burst free, and fluids spattered the hallway wall behind her, soaking the carpet. Celia gasped and panted, but the ordeal wasn’t over yet.
“O-okay, okay, baby.” The shoulders were rotating, she could feel the body turning inside her. The entire head hung from her opening and sagged her panties. “Th-this is iiiittttt-ooooooh!” With one last giant push, the body slid out and a river of fluids gushed freely behind.
Celia sat up on her haunches, scrambling between her tights and underwear with the instinctual desperation of a mother, searching frantically, needing to hold her baby, needing the touch-contact. She brought it from under her skirt to her chest, and heard a gurgling cry. A beautiful girl! Nothing like her father, everything like her mother. Tears streamed from Celia’s eyes and dripped down her nose and cheeks.
“Oh, look at you! Look at you!” She held her to her warm heart. “It’s okay. It’s just us. Just you and me, and no one else.”
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