you write penis birth rly well and it's so hard to find someone who does. idk how you would feel abt this prompt but:
man gives birth at home with/without a partner (up to you) and he's struggling to push the baby past his swollen prostate that was stimulated during labor. in order to give birth he needs to cum but he cant reach past his belly to get himself off. im thinking like unintentional birth/orgasm denial bc of it. maybe it gets extra intense during transition/when his prostate gets unbearably stimulated by the final few centimeters of dilation. get creative with it. ultimately it'll be a penis birth (i don't love the mutilation aspect some people write, but i like how u describe the stretching/overall sensations and sounds of it). im envisioning him desperately rutting the best he can in his bed at an angle or trying to get himself off in the shower or something.
no waterbirth pls but any positions that work well in the story/your writing style
His stomach clenched and legs shook as he let out a scream. A young man was deep into a 16 hour birth. He has been pushing for almost an hour now and was exhausted. His penis had already swelled and become sensative in preparation for the baby to enter. But the baby had been pressed against his swollen prostate for the last 10 overstimulating minutes. It pushed against the sensative bundle of nerves with each agonizing contraction.
He knew what do do. He desperately needed to get himself off to help the baby out but his hand hadnât been able to reach his penis in almost a full month. Making him need to find an alternative solution. Currently he was naked snd squatting on his bed grinding his aching penis on one of his pillows. The movement was shaky and uneven from both the pain from the contractions and the heaviness of his belly.
His hips snapped forward and a gasp left his lips as he finally achieved the pleasure he was almost crying for. But more importantly he finally felt the baby move. It was barely anything but it moved. He gripped his headboard tighter and willed everything in him to thrust faster. The relief was well with the effort, the baby was finally moving. His legs shook harder as the pleasure and pain of the baby slipping past his swollen prostate.
Along with a moan throughout his next big push, the baby had finally reached the base of his penis. He could feel the bulge starting to rub on the pillow. It doubled the amount of pleasure. But he realized this position wasnât allowing to push his baby out much further.
The moan quickly turned into a choked cry when the only solution was that he needed to switch positions. He quickly thought of the next best place and decided on the shower. The shower head could be removed and used to stimulate him.
He very slowly crawled his way to the edge of the bed. It was quite awkward and took some time but eventually got to his feet. On very shaky legs he waddled his way to the bathroom. The baby weighing heavy in his penis as he made his way.
After way too long he got to the bathroom. As fast as he was able he turned into the water to the shower and got in. He used one hand against the wall for support and grabbed the shower head down with the other. He got into a deep squat and angled the shower head at his aching penis, making sure to turn on the proper setting.
He let out a moan as the pleasure races through him once again. He stayed like that and pushed for the next ten minutes. The baby sliding down little by little. His prostate began to ache from the intensity and pleasure.
Until finally he could feel the beginning climax as the baby reached the tip of his penis. He gasped suddently. His hips shaking as he bore down once more and came. With each spasm of his orgasm the baby pushed its way forward. The head popped free as he let out a strangled scream. With the head free the rest of the baby came out with ease with the last of his orgasm.
While he began to catch his breath. He reached down between his thighs and lifted the baby to his chest. He couldnât wait to do it again.
(Thank you for ask! This is such a good prompt, thay challenged me a bit. I donât write much orgasm both but I tried my best! I hope you like it)
Thinking about a king whoâs yet to have any heirs begging the gods for fertility. When his queenâs blood continues to come for many months regardless of his pleas, he curses the gods for abandoning him; he has no reason yet to believe that his own growing gut is anything other than winter weight.
When spring comes, people begin to notice the protruding roundness of his belly, his physician recommending him more exercise and his tailor having to let out his royal garb every few weeks.
Still, the king attempts to plant his heir in the queenâs womb every night, though now he must rest his belly on her back to complete their union.
Nine months since he appealed to the gods, murmurs of concern follow the king wherever he goes. His gait has slowed and widened, a ponderous, rocking movement as his great belly hefts side to side. His physician looks more and more disturbed every time he examines the tight ball growing beneath the kingâs gently swollen chest, warning him that he must have an imbalance of humors that have led to a massive tumor. The movement the king has felt, and the physician now feels and even sees from outside, must be the cankerous wolf, the physician surmises grimly, a malady that eats the flesh of the afflicted. Most often found in the breasts of women, it could nevertheless affect any part of the body, and the king should be prepared for a painful illness and untimely death.
But something else happens, instead. The kingâs cock begins to swell. At first itâs barely enough to notice, but after a few weeks, itâs so thick and bloated that he can barely stand to touch it. He shudders at the slightest brushes against the tender, stretched flesh, and just the most tentative touch of the queenâs lips makes him cry out and dribble seed.
The physician warns him that the wolf might be on the move throughout his body, that this is likely a tumor that could destroy his member, but the king has another thought. He remembers pleading with the gods, and believes that they must have finally answered his prayers, and this large and sensitive cock is a sign of fertility.
The overstimulation is excruciating, but he barely manages to squeeze his massively swollen cock into the queen. She gasps and squirms and trembles, feeling split open by him. Tears cover his face by the time he reaches his climax. Both of them cry out as a sudden torrent of fluid erupts from him, believing this outpouring to be seed given to him by the gods. Once the servants change their linens, they go to sleep convinced that their heir will come soon.
Theyâre rightâit will just be much sooner than they think.
The king wakes in agony at dawn. His belly cramps so tightly that he can do nothing but bend over it and groan. Assuming his illness must be consuming him, he remembers the physician informing him that there is no treatment or cure for the canker, and he resigns himself to his fate. His queen stays by his side as his body is wracked with fits of tension. She finds herself thinking that his agony reminds her of a laboring woman, especially the way the low-hanging bulge of his belly lifts and contracts with each wave of pain, but she fears such an observation would simply upset him, and keeps it to herself.
The king is lying on his side when the change comes. He groans, hair sticking to his sweat-drenched brow as he shakes his head against the soured sheets. He moans for the godsâ mercy, and instinctively lifts one leg, spreading his thighs wide. Thatâs when the queen sees how the flesh above his member, normally a relatively flat, triangular space, bulges as if around something hard and spherical. She stares as he thrashes and groans, watching as the tendons below his belly tighten and the shape sinks a little lower.
She figures it out, then. She stares at him, her jaw slowly loosening as she realizes what sheâs witnessing. The heaving belly, contracting around a babe. And the head⊠the head descending towards his member.
She tells him she needs to get help, and he begs her to stay, but she leaves anyway. Terrified and in agony, the king feels something shifting deep within him, and is sure he must be dying. When the door bursts open and several people enter, he barely notices, eyes blurry with exhaustion and tears.
The physician and the midwife stare at the laboring man, stunned, but itâs the midwife who leaps into action first. She ducks between the kingâs legs and begins to gently palpate around his bulging crotch, holding his thighs open when he screams and tries to close them. He demands to know the meaning of this, and she tells him. Heâs giving birth. He tries to laugh at her, but a contraction steals his breath. His hands knot into the sheets and he groans long and low, while the midwife, physician, and queen all watch his crotch grow heavier and heavier with the head, until the base of his flushed cock begins to stretch with it. He hisses in pain, totally unaware of whatâs coming.
He screams with the next contraction, eyes flashing wide with shocked terror as the base of his cock stretches a little more, trying to widen enough to accept the head. No, he begs. Not there. Please not there! The queen can do nothing but cradle his head in her lap. The midwife rubs his hip and tells him how well heâs doing. The physician, pale-faced, sits at the kingâs desk taking notes and wondering if anyone will believe him.
Oh god, no, the king sobs as he feels another contraction coming. He cries for someone to stop it, but nothing can be done as his body squeezes, and the crown of the head peeks into the base of his cock. The king begins to thrash, and the midwife has to call the physician for help to hold down his legs. It gives both of them a prime view as, over the course of several contractions, the base of the kingâs penis slowly wraps around the babeâs skull.
For many hours, he labors. The king screams for help, for mercy, for his mother, for death, as the hint of head inside his cock slowly eases forward. Finally it crowns into him, his base rendered nearly translucent around the widest part of the head, skin stretched pale and veins bulging blue with the tension. His chest rattles with tearful wheezing, his hands cramping from gripping the sheets.
The next milestone comes with a thrash of his whole body and a wail of, simply, Fuck! as the head pops into his shaft. His tip is beginning to stretch, now, an angry, weeping red, slit pulling open. He rests, then, such as a man can with a babyâs head deforming his cock, eyelids fluttering shut and chest heaving as he pants for breath. The queen dabs his forehead with a wet cloth and tells him how brave he is.
The midwife begins to gently stretch his hole, and he whimpers, but lets her, knowing sheâs preparing him forâ
Oh, nooooo, no, no, it wonât fit, it wonât fit! he sobs, but his cockhead splays all the same, pulled nearly flat as it comes flush to the crown. His crotch bulges again, too, as the shoulders push at it. Make it stop, just cut me open and take it out, I order you! Do it! he screams, but his three helpers exchange looks grimly, knowing that the flesh of his birthing member is much too thin to be cut without hurting the child, nevermind the risk of the king bleeding out. He must endure.
A litany of No, no, no no nonono no nooo noooooo! fills the room as his body pushes the child forward. The slight splay of his slit opens eye-like over slimy hair, his spongy cockhead reduced to something like a heart shape as it hugs the emerging head. His crotch stretches sharply, then the head eases back, his slit closing a little. He whimpers with relief.
But the midwife begins to rub around his base, trying to stretch him. She tells him he needs to push with the next contraction, or the child will never come out. He weeps bitterly.
Yet, he pushes. A high, wobbling agony gargles in his throat as he clenches his teeth and heaves air through the cracks. Veins stand out in his forehead and his shaft. His cockhead flares to the point it had reached before, and then a little further, a little less than a thumbâs length of the babyâs head visible through the slit. The shoulders donât enter his cock, yet, but the base stays wide, ready to accept them when he does push them through.
He begs the midwife not to touch, sobs that it hurts, but she assures him gently that sheâs keeping him from tearing, and keeps running her fingertip around the reddened edges of his birthing slit.
His belly lifts and tenses, and voices encourage him to push from every side. Heâs only able to bear down for an instant before he loses the air in his lungs to a shriek as his slit-lips open wider. He whips his head in delirious denial, barely conscious.
This is when the midwife leans forward and pushes on the top of his belly. His eyes snap open and he screams like a dying animal as a shoulder bursts into his cock and the head surges against his tip. The bruise-purple tissue of what used to be his cockhead is indistinguishable as any part of a penis, more like a cunt now, if anything. This new cock-cunt twitches and pulses around the broad teardrop of crown now visible.
With the next contraction, he does his own pushing, fearing the pain in his belly again. He pushes until his face goes red and his whole body trembles, cock lopsided with the single shoulder and cunt lips peeling slowly down the dome of the head, until finallyâ
âAAAAAAAUUUUUURRRRGHHHHHHHH!!!!!â
The kingâs agony echoes off the walls, his back arching and chest heaving as what was once his cock crowns around his childâs head. It holds him perfectly round and open, leaving him wheezing for breath with a high, tortured whimper threaded into his voice. He tries to keep pushing, but the midwife tells him to wait. He screams that he canât. Itâs too big! Itâs gonna rip his cock off! But his attempts to push are futile, the head simply bobbing slightly, and he must endure the torment of the crown.
The next contraction should bring relief. But when it comes, his pushes only bring an awful pressure at the base of his cock, the drag of the shoulder inside his shaft, and the stinging tickle of his birthing slit struggling to release the babeâs skull. Itâs stuck.
Itâs stuck! Itâs stuck! he shrieks.
The midwife tells him to keep his head on, and makes him roll from his side to his back and pull his legs up by his knees. He does as heâs told, though his hands tremble so badly that the queen must pull his legs back, leaning over him until his belly juts out between his upturned thighs, and his knees nearly touch his shoulders. His cock sticks up at an angle, though it wilts at the end with the weight of the babeâs head until the midwife supports it.
When pushing in that position does nothing, she continues to support his cock as she forces him to get on his hands and knees. His limbs tremble. He buries his pain-paled face in the queenâs breast and pants while he waits for a contraction. His hot breath and loose saliva seep into her dress as he pushes, but he finds no relief.
The midwife doesnât warn him before she starts to physically tug his birthing slit down. He screams and tries to kick her, but the physician holds his legs still and the queen wraps her arms around his head to quell him. Her gown muffles his shrieks as the tip of his penis is dragged over the widest part of the skull, and he goes limp and wheezing when the head finally bursts free of his birthing slit. The gaping mouth of his cock crumples loosely around the neck, until the midwife keeps pushing it back to expose the shoulder.
When her fingers worm past the shoulder and dip inside of him, he lurches and gags. His wife is quick enough to let him loose, and he vomits over the side of the bed at the sensation of a foreign hand digging into his cervix. It leaves him tear-streaked and dry heaving, but finally, the midwife frees the second shoulder. He can do nothing but gargle in reaction.
Finally, a contraction comes, and he pushes with all he has left, his whole body trembling and his eyes rolling back. He bleats out a delirious whimper as both shoulders stretch his birthing slit at once, but they linger for only a moment before the midwife pulls the heir to the throne from his quivering body. His former penis falls limp, nothing but a gaping birth canal leaking blood and fluid.
He knows, in that moment, that the gods answered him. The first time he beseeched them, they gave him a womb with a miracle babe within⊠only for him to curse them, not knowing he already carried their blessing. This was his punishment.
At least itâs over.
Or, thatâs what he thinks, until he consults his looking glass a few months later, and finds his sagging belly beginning to swell and harden once again.
Poor little bird-folk who has a condition that makes their eggs grow unusually large. It means they almost always get egg bound and spend days laying a clutch when all their friends do it in an afternoon. It doesn't help that they're small and slight with narrow hips that strain against every huge egg.
As they get closer to laying their stomach swells up immensely, looking ridiculous on their small frame. Everyone else they know gets a regular, manageable bump in the weeks before they lay. Usually only restricting their movements in the last few days. But their stomach is huge and obvious and horribly sore for weeks. They spend almost a month too heavy to fly and by the last week they can barely walk. You would think that going through this every year would mean they're used to it, but every time they are caught off guard by how heavy and sore and uncomfortable their giant eggs make them. Their fragile pelvis wasn't made to carry so much weight. Their skin stretches so far that they start to lose feathers on their belly and red, angry stretch marks are visible on the exposed skin. It's miserable but they know the worst is still yet to come.
Their body is designed to lay quickly. Half a day of laboring, an hour of pushing and you've got a clutch. But with their eggs three or four times bigger than they should be that timeline is simply impossible. They dread those first contractions. Once they start they are trapped in a horrible storm as their body shoves the first egg down brutally hard and fast. The pressure in their hips increases ten fold. They squawk and cry, paralyzed by the intensity and trying desperately to find a position that will ease some of the pressure.
It's not long before the tip of the first egg begins to press down through their cloaca. This is when the real trouble starts. They are gripped with the urge to push. The first push begins to stretch their hole, the heavy egg bulging out the skin between their legs, the very tip visible just inside. But there is not enough space. Two, maybe three pushes should be enough for a regular egg. But their egg is so, so big. It gets stuck almost immediately. A few desperate pushes might bring it down just a bit more, enough than the stretch of their cloaca really starts to sting. But then it lodges itself and won't budge no matter how much they push.
No matter how many times they're forced to do this they are always gripped with horrible panic when they realize the egg won't move. The pain of contractions, the spasming of their stretched hole, the mind numbing pressure, all make it impossible to think. They'll thrash and scream, crying that it's stuck! It's stuck! Oh god please, it won't come! By now they know to have a healer on hand. But during their first lay they cried alone for hours, sure they were going to die.
There isn't actually much the healer can do. The bird-folk must now go through a horrible process of slow stretching. The healer takes some oil and rubs it around the rim of their hole, gently stretching the already taught skin, trying to work them open. They moan as their tortured hole is stretched. The burn is constant and terrible and they feel like they could rip open at any second. The healer stretches them and then they are forced to stand on shaking legs and hobble back and forth, bowlegged around their crowning egg. They shift their hips as best they can, trying to work the egg down. They are still beset by contractions and every few the urge to push becomes too great and they have to squat down and push. On every fourth or fifth push the egg will inch out the slightest bit more.
The progress is glacial and agonizing. They are trapped in a desperate cycle. Once they collapse from exhaustion the healer applies more oil, wedging their finger in alongside the egg and making them stretch. Then after a fruitless push or two they are dragged back to their feet. They rock and sway and squat intermittently, pushing and crying, until their legs give out once again and they slump to the ground in an exhausted heap. Then the healer approaches with more oil.
This goes on for hour after miserable hour. Slowly the egg crowns out of their tortured cloaca. The liberal application of oil and constant stretching protects them from tearing but the burn is indescribable. They are stretched so tight around something much bigger than it should be. At a certain point they go numb, their nerves unable to keep up with the stretch.
It's usually at that point that they break down completely, going limp and weeping, saying the egg will never come out, just leave them, they're too tired to push anymore. Every time they're sure this is it, it's over. They just want the pressure and the pain to end but their will is completely broken. The healer lets them cry and writhe through several contractions then hauls them up on their hands and knees, forces some water down their throat, and tells them to get pushing. It's hard but they've done it every year and this won't be the year they die on the healer's watch. Still crying and hiccuping miserably they bear down and push again.
By the next day they are usually close to the widest part of the egg. The end is in sight but still so far away. The cycles of oil, stretching, and pushing have gotten shorter and shorter. They are no longer able to stand, the egg forcing their legs too wide. It looks obscene sticking out of their hole, taking up the entire space between their legs. They alternate between squatting and rocking back and forth on their hands and knees. By now they are in a kind of trance-like state. Their world shrunk down to just the giant egg holding them brutally open. They emit a constant quiet lowing, their broken voice peaking in distress with every push.
Finally after one push they feel it, on instinct they know that one more push will get them past the widest point. They suck in a breath and push with every desperate ounce of strength left in their exhausted body. The egg moves. The pressure gives. In an almost orgasmic gush the egg bursts through and slides out of their spasming hole. They slump to the ground and sob in relief.
They get maybe an hour of rest. Then the pains return and their body starts working the next giant egg down to their hole. They're stretched now so this one will not take quite as long but they still have hours more of pushing ahead. And after that two more eggs lie in wait.
When all of the eggs are finally out they sleep for days, completely drained. The relief of finally being empty is always tainted by the knowledge that they will have to do it all again next year.
Each push filled with excruciating pain as the birther struggle to get the head to stretch the penis out. Then the real painful part comes when the head starts to stretch the slit. The slit either becomes extremely stretched or it tears. Either way itâs damaged. One upside though, is now the next few babies might just be able to come out easier.
465.6 it's not common but id love to see some het mpreg. give me an alpha woman taking care of her super preggers omega bf. Lol.
Written by @pregnancyismykink :) I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. The prompt was so enticing I wrote all of this in one sitting.
**
âBaby, Iâm home.âÂ
âOh thank god. Can you help me finish this?â
Katie closed the door behind her, kicking off her shoes and tossing her purse onto the hook before heading into the kitchen. Jonah, her perfect husband and beautiful omega was on his hands and knees in front of the oven, scrubbing the inside feverishly.Â
âI told you I would help you when I got home,â she said softly. âWhy didnât you wait?â
He shook his head, pulling himself out of the oven, his face red from the exertion.Â
âI got bored and it was driving me crazy. But now my knees hurt and Iâm pretty sure my bladder is about to explode. Help,â he says, holding his hands up towards her.Â
Katie just sighs and grabs his hands, helping him to his feet, and steadying him when he stumbles.
âI know we talked about me not being allowed to be an overbearing Alpha or whatever, but you really should wait for me to help you with this stuff. Especially at 5 months pregnant.â
She wipes his brow, fixing the collar of his shirt that was now stained with soot from the oven. He smiles and accepts it, his shoulders relaxing a bit now that she was home.Â
âIâm ok, I promise. But I really do have to pee,â he says hurriedly, kissing her cheek before taking off to the bathroom.Â
She chuckles, watching him waddle away, and then looks around the kitchen, seeing the mess for the first time. There were dishes everywhere, the cabinet doors were all open, and sheâs pretty sure every appliance they own is on the counter. The doctor had warned about this, but she hadnât expected it to be this bad.Â
Nesting is what theyâd called it. When the omega starts preparing the home for the pupâs arrival. Theyâd said at 7 or 8 months but with Jonahâs last check up came a lot of new quirks. Nearly every day she came home to some part of the house being rearranged, reorganized, just moved around in general.Â
It wasnât that she minded of course, but she worried. Especially when he started moving furniture. Sheâd thankfully managed to talk him out of that, or at least convinced him not to do it by himself, but she still grew worried. Worried enough to install a camera in the living room just so she could make sure he didnât hurt himself.Â
With a sigh she started trying to put the kitchen back into place, knowing full well sheâd probably have to do it all over again the next day.
**
âHave you seen my âJesus was a sinnerâ shirt?â
Katie looks up from her book, finding Jonah in front of her naked from the waist up. Warmth stirred up in her gut but she ignored it. For now.
âIs that seriously what youâre wearing to dinner with your parents tonight?â
Jonah nodded, not an ounce of hesitation on his face.Â
âWhy not? They barely want anything to do with me or the pup, so why should I adhere to their ideas? They already think Iâm a disgrace.â
Katie sighs softly, putting her book down on the couch and standing, wrapping her hands around Jonahâs waist.Â
âTheyâre wrong and you know it. Youâre the best thing thatâs ever happened to me,â she said, squeezing his waist softly.Â
He flushes but rolls his eyes. He doesnât step out of the embrace though, his round belly pressing up against her flat one.Â
âTheir opinions donât matter to me, not anymore. But it would be nice if they could just act like they donât hate us.â
Katie could see the doubt growing on his face, in the way his eyes shifted more, looking down at her shoulders or chin, and not at her face. She only stood a few inches over him, but he looked so small like this, acting like a disgruntled child.Â
âBaby,â she said softly, putting a finger under his chin to grab his attention. âYour parents suck, but thatâs all the more reason we should raise our Pup better than they did. You canât let them get to you like this.â
His eyes glittered with unshed tears and Katie shushed him, pulling him into her chest, hugging him close. He didnât deny the comfort, instead pressing as close as his stomach would allow, his arms wrapping around her waist and clutching the back of her shirt. She ignored the wet stains she felt growing on her shoulder, and held him until he pulled away.
âFeel better?â she asked, brushing away the trails of tears on his cheeks.
He snorted but nodded, sincere when he answered.Â
âMuch.â
âEnough for a little bit of fun before we leave?â she asked, raising a brow at him.Â
He scoffed, but the way his face flushed and the way his eyes widened slightly, she knew he was interested.
âI think we can squeeze that in. If youâre quick,â he said smirking, knowing full well Katie preferred to take her time with him.Â
She smirked back, slowly pushing him back towards the bedroom.
âIâll go as quickly as I feel.â
Jonah laughed, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as his back hit the bedroom door.Â
Katie did in fact, take her time with him, worshipping every inch of his naked body, paying special attention to his growing middle and the small cock between his legs. Her favorite thing to do was edge him to the point where just playing with his nipples would make him scream her name. And it was so easy now that he was pregnant.
She really couldnât wait for the day his breasts fully developed, instead of just some extra padding on his pecs. He pretended to hate the idea, but she knew the way he looked at himself in the mirror, knew the longing in his eyes for what it was.Â
His nipples had grown thicker as well, no longer the light pink nubs on his chest and instead darker and swollen, sensitive to the slightest touch. She could sometimes make him cum just by swirling her tongue around them, and she loved it just as much as he did.
**
âYouâre progressing well. Youâre meeting all of your markers and I donât see any signs for concern. Iâll make sure you get a pamphlet of what you should expect in the last month leading up to birth before you leave today. Have you decided on a birthing plan yet?â
Jonah nodded, Katie sitting next to him as he wiped his stomach and fixed his shirt.Â
âWe decided on a home birth. Weâve already contacted a doula.â
Dr. Morris nods, making a note on the clipboard in his hand.Â
âGood. Keep doing what youâre doing and youâll be meeting your pup very soon.â
Jonah couldnât help the grin on his face, thanking Dr. Morris as he left the room.Â
Katieâs eyes glittered as she looked up at Jonah.
âI canât believe how close we are. Only one more month!â
Jonah nodded, excitement clear on his face as he slipped off the exam table, fixing his pants.Â
âOne more month and then Iâll be able to walk without waddling again.â
Katie chuckled, opening the door and letting Jonah out first, watching his cute waddling form.Â
âI kinda like the waddle. Makes you look even cuter.â
âCuter my ass. I look like a fat penguin.â
âBut a cute penguin.â
She wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him in for a kiss to his temple, grinning down at him.Â
He just rolled his eyes, but he couldnât hide the small smile of pleasure on his lips.
**
âHow are you feeling?â
âMiserable,â Jonah answered, whimpering as another cramp ran through his middle.Â
Katie frowns, kneeling in front of the couch, running her fingers through his hair as his face scrunches up in pain again.Â
All of the pamphlets had mentioned cramping and swelling, but they hadnât realized it would be this bad.Â
âDo you want the heating pad?â
Jonah could only nod, unable to use words as his dick gave a painful twitch between his legs.Â
Katie shuffled over to the bedroom, finding the heating pad heâd been sleeping with for the last few weeks and unplugged it, moving it to the living room. She was as careful as she could be, but even gently lifting his thigh enough to put the heating pad in between his legs made him cry out, his fingers clenching around the pillow. His cock had swollen nearly two times the size of usual, his balls an angry red color, and the only thing that made him feel better was a heating pad.Â
âMaybe we should call the doctor. They could give you something for the pain.â
Jonah shook his head, sweat gathering on his brow.Â
âEverything I read says itâs normal, but the intensity differs for everyone. I guess I just got the lucky draw of the straw.â
Even as he tries to joke, his face tightens and his brow pinches, his whole body tensing up.Â
âWould it help if I make you cum? Maybe loosen it up a little?â
Sheâd read everything too, probably even more than Jonah. A few weeks before birth a male omegaâs cock will swell due to the blood rushing to that area in preparation for the birth. It will make him more stiff but will allow the stretching needed for the pup to travel through. Sheâd read first hand accounts, but most of them just said it was painful. Not debilitating.Â
But every single one of them had said cumming made it more bearable.Â
âI donât know. Just the thought of touching it makes me want to die right now.â
âWhat if I fuck you instead? Then I wonât have to touch it and you can still cum.â
He thought about it for a moment, his fingers white knuckled around the pillow.Â
âFuck it, letâs try it. It canât make it any worse. I donât think I can move though.â
Katie shook her head, standing from her spot on the floor.Â
âWe can do it here. Let me just get some towels.â
A few minutes later, Katie comes back naked with a handful of towels, her hair tied up in a bun.
âCan you get to your knees at least?â
Jonah nodded, though he was slow to move. He braced himself, Katieâs hands on his waist, ready to help.Â
âOn 3?â
He nods again and Katie braces, â3âŠ2âŠ1âŠâ
He pushes up, shifting his hips around so heâs on his hands and knees on the couch, letting out a cry that breaks Katieâ heart. Sheâs never seen him so vulnerable.Â
âGreat job, baby. Iâm so proud of you.â
She kisses his lower back, his shirt riding up with the shift of position. His stomach pokes out much further now, his belly button pressed firmly into the couch cushion. His thighs are trembling and he has his face buried in the pillow, but he did it.Â
She settles the towels under him, careful not to brush up against his swollen cock. It bobbed between his legs, twitching every now and then as he moaned, clearly uncomfortable.Â
âYou ok?â
He grunted in response, his whole body shaking.Â
Katie hated seeing him like this.
âIâll be gentle. Let me know if I need to stop.â
He only grunts again, clearly lost in the pain.Â
Katie shifts herself, crawling onto the couch behind him. Heâs not leaking like usual, not nearly enough for it to be good for him, so she uncaps the bottle of lube sheâd grabbed and adds some to her fingers, making sure to coat them well.Â
She presses a finger to his hole and he clenches around the intrusion. She presses past the tight rim, up to her knuckle and then pauses, not wanting to overwhelm him.Â
âOkay?â
He groans but nods, as well as he can with his face buried in the pillow. She takes that as a sign to continue and presses in another finger, stretching him out.Â
âIâve got you,â she whispers, kissing over his lower back as she continues to stretch his rim. It takes longer than usual, especially considering he wasnât exactly in the mood for it, but she eventually stretches him enough to push herself inside. She watches his every movement, making sure she isnât hurting him as she presses the head of her cock past the still tight rim of his ass.Â
He jerks and cries out, pulling off of her with a sob, his whole body trembling.
âWhatâs wrong? Did I hurt you?â she asks hurriedly, running her hands over his hips, wanting to cry herself.Â
âToo sensitive,â he manages to say, his words mumbling through the pillow.Â
Heâs always been a little extra sensitive, but never like this.Â
âIâll go slower. Still want to try?â
She doesnât know any other way at this point.
Jonah shifts, gasping as it jostles his cock against the underside of his belly.Â
âTry again,â he manages, pressing his hips back towards her. She frowns but does as he asks.
She spreads more lube on her fingers, putting an extra squirt on his hole, and then presses in again, holding his waist with one hand and her cock with the other. He tenses against it but doesnât pull away this time, and she presses in deeper.Â
Itâs not nearly as slick as usual, but he lets her in, lets her sink deeper and deeper until her hips are flush with his ass.
âFeel ok?â she asks, breathless. Heâs so tight around her.Â
He grumbles something and Katie takes a breath, wrapping both hands around his waist now, and then starts a gentle slow thrust.Â
She stays like this for a while, working him up, letting him adjust, and it seems to be helping. His shoulders relax slightly and his hole gets a little less tight around her.Â
âIâm close,â he whimpers, his whole body tensing with the approaching orgasm. She doesnât change her pace or change her angle, staying steady and letting him work through it slowly.Â
Sheâs just about to ask if heâs ok when she feels him clench. He bites down on the pillow and screams as his whole body gives into the pleasure. She doesnât stop, dragging it out, pulling as much out of him as she can.Â
He shudders hard, collapsing against the pillow.Â
Katie, too worried for Jonah, shifts with him, tucking herself behind him on the couch, still buried inside him.Â
âDid it help?â she asks, chest heaving.Â
Jonah just nods, his chest heaving now as well. Katie lifts herself up so she can peek over him, seeing his cock still dribbling out little drops of cum. Itâs not nearly as red and swollen as it was.Â
âLike a bad case of blue balls,â Jonah mumbled, his hand rubbing the side of his belly. âI hope itâs not always like this.â
Katie huffs, relaxing back into the couch again, wrapping an arm around his waist and kissing the back of his neck and then over the mating mark on his shoulder.
âI hope not either. I hate seeing you so miserable.â
He hums softly, his whole body relaxing for the first time since he woke up this morning. Katie isnât surprised when he falls asleep, nor is she surprised he stays asleep for the rest of the night and well into the next day.Â
He didnât even budge as she pushed off the couch, cleaning up their mess. But she didnât mind. He needed to rest.
**
Jonah didnât have as hard a time after that night. She would still fuck him to sleep each night, but now it was more of his choice instead of his bodyâs. He just liked feeling her inside of him, filling him up, stretching him just like the day she impregnated him. It felt calming, grounding.Â
âI called my mom. She said she could help us for the first few weeks. Especially when we get back from the hospital.â
Jonah nods, folding the little giraffe onesie in his hand and moving on to the next one.Â
âShe can stay in the guest room. Itâs not like itâs being used at the moment.â
Katie nods, grabbing the pile of folded onesies from Jonah and placing them in the drawer of the nursery dresser.Â
âDid you ever talk to your parents?â She finishes tucking the tiny little clothes into the drawer and closes it, sitting on the floor next to Jonah.Â
Jonah nods, leaning back on one hand, rubbing his belly with the other.Â
âI think mom is warming up to the idea of a grandchild. She said she bought some diapers and a stroller. She wants us to let her know when the pup arrives so she can meet them.â
Katie nods, getting on her hands and knees in front of Jonah, smiling softly.Â
âItâs ok if you donât want them around you know. Just because theyâre family doesnât mean you have to have them around.â
Jonah hums, leaning back on both hands now.Â
âI know. But I do want them in my life. But if they start doing stupid shit Iâm cutting them off immediately.â
Katie grins, knowing full well that he meant every word.Â
âIâll be right there with you.â
She bends down and places a kiss on the top of his belly, whispering to the little pup inside.Â
âYour daddy is such a brave man. He wonât let anyone hurt you. And neither will I.â
A sudden kick startles both of them into a fit of laughter, and it lasts for several minutes before Jonah has to rush to the bathroom before he pees himself.Â
Katie lays on the floor of the nursery, looking around at the light green walls, the simple crib and rug, the little toys Jonah couldnât resist buying, and she knows they can do this.
**
âI called the doula. She said sheâd be here soon. How are you feeling?â
âLike my hips are trying to break free from my body,â Jonah groans, leaning against the bed, swaying his hips back and forth. Heâd been like this for the past hour.Â
âShe said to keep doing whatever feels comfortable. And to keep track of how much time passes between each contraction.â
Jonah looks over at the bedside table at the clock, noting it had been 5 minutes since the last one. He was getting closer.Â
Katie paces at the end of the bed, trying to calm her racing nerves as Jonah breathes through another contraction, his dick achingly heavy between his legs.Â
âI think my dick might actually fall off,â he half jokes, the heavy bowling ball between his hips shifting lower. He has to bend his knees, widening his stance to relieve the pressure on his hips, but his balls hurt. Theyâre so heavy and swollen.Â
âDo you want me to fuck you before she gets here? Maybe it will help like it did before?â
She pauses her pacing just long enough to offer, but Jonah shakes his head, leaning his forehead down on the bed, groaning softly.Â
âNo, itâs okay. I can handle this. Maybe.â
Katie scoffs but doesnât argue, going back to her pacing. Jonah didnât pay much attention to her, instead focusing on his body shifting and preparing. Heâs thankful though when he hears the knock at the door, practically drowning in Katieâs scent of relief when she rushes out of the room to welcome the doula.
The woman comes in a few minutes later, a gentle kind smile on her face. Sheâs older, but Jonah had liked her smile the most. Thatâs why he chose her.Â
âHi dear, howâs it going?â she asks calmly, placing her bag down on the floor and grabbing a pair of gloves.Â
Jonah smiles through the pain.
âOkay right now. Definitely feeling the pressure though.â
She nods, slipping the gloves on and then moving towards him, looking between his legs at his swollen cock and balls.Â
âYouâre definitely in labor,â she says. âIâm going to check you okay? Let me know if I need to stop.â
Jonah nods, not really caring at the moment as long as she helps him get through all of this.Â
She places a hand on the small of his back to brace him and then reaches under his heavy belly to squeeze his balls. The feeling makes him hiss and Katieâs low growl comes from the other side of the room, her scent heavy in his nose.Â
âHeâs okay,â the doula placates, still massaging him but keeping an eye out for Katie. He could tell she was used to this.Â
Her fingers move down lower, the pad of her pointer finger pressing to the head of his cock.Â
âYouâre pretty far along. I think we might be meeting your pup sooner rather than later.â
She pulls back and Katie takes her place, scenting over his shoulder as he groans through another contraction.Â
âJust keep doing whatâs comfortable. If you need to move or switch positions, let us know.â
Jonah nods but savors the affection from Katie, not realizing how much he needed it. He didnât want her to fret over him, but having her close like this, scenting him, it made him feel so much better.
**
âPush on 3. 1âŠ2âŠ3âŠâ
Jonah bears down, groaning as he feels his cock spreading around the pup heâs been growing for 9 months. Everything in his body was screaming to protect, provide, and push, so he listened and did as he was told.Â
Heâd changed positions a few moments ago and knelt on his knees, leaning onto Katie, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. She continued to scent him, her hands rubbing his back and shoulders.
The doula was on the floor next to them, monitoring everything and making sure he was okay. Heâs so glad he chose not to do this in the hospital, even if it meant no epidural.Â
âYouâre doing so well,â Katie says softly, leaving a kiss on his temple and brushing her fingers through his hair. Sweat gathered on his brow and she wiped it off, doing whatever she could to make him as comfortable as possible.Â
The doulaâs fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, massaging it slowly, drawing out the pup and he could feel it moving further down, stretching him out. Amniotic fluid dribbled out of him, mixed with cum and slick, all produced to help ease the pup out of him.Â
He bore down again, pushing as hard as he could, breaking off with a gasp when the head of his pup finally breaches past the base of his cock.Â
âThere they are,â the doula whispered, her fingers still working at his cock and balls. âYouâre doing great Jonah.â
Jonah scoffed but didnât respond, his whole body trembling and exhausted. But he was determined to meet his little pup.
âThey better look like me,â he jokes, resting his forehead on Katieâs shoulder. âKatie canât get all the credit.â
Katie chuckles, running her fingers through the hair at the back of his head, kissing his temple.Â
âI would never take this accomplishment away from you. Especially since I still want more pups in the future.â
Jonah shakes his head, completely serious when he answers. âIâm never doing this again. You can keep your stupid dick away from me.â
Katie just hums and nods, knowing full well when his heat comes roaring back after having been gone for 9 months, he would eat his words.Â
They continue like this for a while, Jonah breathing through contractions and pushing at the command of the doula, and Katie taking care of him as he struggles.Â
Jonah screams through the latest push, the head of his cock stretched impossibly far around their pupâs head.
âThatâs it! I see the head.â
Jonah wanted to sob, the searing pain of the stretch making his whole body hurt. If he could see his dick right now he just knows it would be massive.Â
âThereâs a lot of hair. Dark like yours,â the doula says, and Jonah smiles through the tears, excited to finally meet their little one.Â
Determined, he bares down again, pushing through the pain as the head slowly, inch by inch, spreads him open. Itâs so heavy now the doula has to hold his cock, keeping him from straining it too far. She massages the base of his cock, urging the pup further down, and as he pushes again he lets out a loud scream, not holding back until the head of his pup pops out, making his hips jerk.Â
His chest is heaving, his breasts leaking now. They were still just swollen pecs, but he knew they would round out soon as the pup started to feed more and more. The warm liquid dripping from his nipples turns him on despite himself and he pushes again, the pupâs shoulders pressing up against the head of his cock. The slit is stretched so wide he could probably fit his whole fist in there, if not more considering the size of his pupâs head that just popped out of there.Â
âOnly a few more pushes to go, Jonah. Youâre almost there.â
Jonah braces himself, clenching his fingers in the back of Katieâs shirt, and then heâs baring down once more, feeling the burning pain as the pupâs shoulders stretch him open even more. The doulaâs fingers press past his stretched urethra, shifting the pupâs shoulders, and then suddenly thereâs a flood of fluids dripping out of him, his pup slipping out and into the hands of the doula.Â
Shrill, wet sounding cries fill the air and Jonah nearly collapses against Katie.Â
âOh my god,â she sobs, holding him and helping him turn around, so heâs leaning back against her chest.Â
âCongratulations on your baby boy,â the doula says grinning. She passes the squirmy baby over to Jonah and he takes the tiny little boy with shaky hands, holding him close to his chest.Â
Sobs work through both of them as they stare down at their perfect little boy, his little nose scrunched up and face red in anger.Â
âWelcome to the world Isaiah,â Jonah says through his tears.Â
Katie brushes a trembling hand over the pupâs head, her own tears turning her face red. âHeâs absolutely perfect.â
It was everything they could ever wish for.
**
Shrill cries echo through the speaker of the baby monitor and Jonah groans, turning to see the clock reading 3 in the morning.Â
Katie shifts in her sleep, but continues to snore, exhausted. Jonah felt bad that sheâd been doing everything around the house while he recovered, but he couldnât have done anything even if he wanted to. Even with her mom here, they were all run ragged.Â
His cock ached something fierce for the first two weeks after the birth, and even now he struggled relieving his bladder. The doctors assured him it was normal, that his body was just adjusting back to normal, but he still didnât like it. Theyâd at least given him some ointment to apply when it got bad.
He looked once more at Katie, at her hair all over the place, her arms stretched up over her head, and he smiled softly, kissing her forehead before slipping out of bed.Â
He still walked with a bit of a limp, his hips still sore, but it wasnât as bad now.Â
The nursery room door sat ajar and he smiled as he walked in, looking at his beautiful bundle of joy wrapped up in his favorite panda onesie.Â
âHi baby boy,â he whispered, lifting him out of the crib and bouncing him gently in his arms. He shuffled over to the rocking chair, settling down and lifting his shirt up, bringing his pupâs lips to his swollen nipples.Â
Isaiah latched almost immediately, his little lips pulling roughly at his sore nipples. Nursing had proved easy enough since Isaiah latched well, but he still wasnât used to the feeling of the pulling sensation. And even though itâs only been a few weeks, his breasts had swollen enough to be considered Bâs. He pretended to hate it when Katie mentioned it, but he liked it. More than he thought he would. And he knew Katie could see it.Â
He looked down at the pup in his arms, his little cheeks chubby and red, the dark hair on his head thick and straight. His little fingers stretch and close on his breast, patting at it as he drinks, and Jonah watches his eyes droop.Â
Katieâs mom had left only a few days ago, but they were still trying to get into a rhythm. Isaiah woke every few hours to feed, and Katie had to go back to work soon so she was trying to get as much time with him as she could. But even Jonah could see how exhausted she was. He felt the same way.
âYouâre a handful little one,â he murmurs softly, patting his butt as he feeds. âBut youâre still perfect.â
I sit behind you in the massive tub, the water doing nothing to ease the pressure ramming through your pelvis. My hand is between your legs, fingers circling the teardrop shape of your opening. You pull your knees back, hips opening painfully wide as you bear down hard with another contraction. My palm fills as the babyâs head bulges and strains against your tight folds. My fingers part to trace the outline of the modest crown, stretching and teasing apart the sensitive tissues until your desperate whines condense into a scream.
Itâs okay, take a breath. Iâve got you. The headâs not going anywhere, but now the only way to make it better is to get the baby out. Keep pushing.
My other hand reaches around your massive belly and together they form a ring around the little protruding dome and give you something to push against. Itâs burning now, but you canât stop. Your feet find purchase on the rim of the bath and fingers clutch desperately at your shaking thighs to keep them from snapping shut against the unbearable fiery stretch.
Youâre doing so well. Youâre at a full crown now, but youâve got to wait for another contraction to push again. I like you like thisâmoaning and writhing against me as you struggle to birth this massive head. Perhaps my hands will stay right where they are, keeping you at the peak of fullness for just a little while longer.
Our relationship began when we were just boys, before either of us knew what it meant to be called âmasterâ and âservantâ, âroyalâ and âpeasantâ. And as we grew into men, we took with us the easy banter and unrestrained affection weâd cultivated for each other. Henry had told me, on numerous occasions, that the time we spent together was the only thing that made his stiff, often oppressive princely duties bearable. Serving as the castleâs mageâsquandering my talents making beauty potions and sleep tonics for bored monarchsâwas not exactly my lifeâs passion either, but it kept me close to Henry, and that was enough.
But then his father, the king, announced that Henry was to be married to the princess of a neighboring realm, one with grain to fill our empty silos and ships to protect our vulnerable coastlines. It was the best thing for the kingdom, and the worst thing for us.
We were foolish to act like this could last forever. Even more so to actually to believe it.
A week before the wedding, the king came to me in my chambersânot unheard of, but definitely unusual. He requested that I produce a fertility elixir. For his son. To ensure the wedding night was⊠fruitful.
This was normal, necessary even, to ensure the royal bloodline would continue. I nodded, though my stomach had already begun twisting itself in knots. But Henry loved children, had always wanted them, and it was bittersweet to know that this was the role Iâd play in giving them to him.
It still would have been enough just to be near him. To see Henry grow into the role of husband, father, and one day king. And even though I promised his father that I would do whatever he asked, that I would not interfere, that Henry did not even love me in the same way that I loved him, he knew how close the prince and I were and could not risk my presence interfering with his judgment, his duty to his people.
He would be sending me away as soon as they were married.
The room swayed like the flutter of his royal cloak as he left me to prepare, both the potion and for my departure.
It was easy enough to withdraw from Henry in the following weeksâhe was busy getting fitted for robes and hunting for the feasts, and I was busy trying to figure out how to live my life without the man that I loved. Several times he pulled me aside to make jokes about how ridiculous and over-the-top this all was, about how archaic these arranged marriages were and how he would probably barely even see her and nothing much was likely to change.
He would look at me then, as if asking me to confirm this to be the truth, but all I could ever manage was a tight smile and the promise that all would happen as it should.
I delivered the potion to the king a week before the wedding, but celebrations were already underway. A caravan was to take me away the morning of the ceremony and I just had to hold on until then. It would be easier once there was some distance between us. It had to be.
All my mental preparation was shattered, though, when Henry came bursting into my quarters the night before his wedding. There was a spark of accusation in his eyes as he waited for me to speak.
âYou cannot leave me,â he finally said when I remained silent.
âIs that a request or an order?â Not that it matteredâeven Henry could not trump the command of a king.
âNeither, it is simply a statement of fact.â I raised my eyebrows and looked pointedly around at the boxes in the room. âI cannotââ He paused, cleared his throat, and sat beside me on the bed. âI do not want to do this without you.â He leaned to the side, taking my hand in his and resting his head against my temple. âI love you.â
And that was both why I wanted to stay, and exactly why I needed to leave. âHenryââ My voice broke on just the utterance of his name, and any elegant, composed goodbye speech I might have intended shattered with it.
He kissed me then, long and slow and deep. He tasted of wine and honey, though sweeter and more intoxicating than either. âDonât go,â he whispered against my lips, swallowing any refusal I might have given. His hands grabbed for my thigh, my waist, my neck, every desperate movement echoing his wordsâ entreaty.
I knew he didnât really want me like this, he just didnât want me to leave. But at that moment I was too selfish to care.
I took every part of him he offered and gave all of myself in return.
I let him make love to me, and let myself believe that he meant it.
I let him say goodbye.
. . .
We traveled for weeks before reaching the rocky coastline that was to be my new home. I was almost glad for it, as the constant jostling hour after hour, day after day had started to make me ill.
The small seaside town was nice enough, but something about it clearly did not agree with me. The scents of saltwater and seafood followed me everywhere and caused my stomach to lurch. The sun was brighter here, the air hot and moist and clinging to my skin. These were the excuses I made for myself to indulge my grief by sleeping the days away in my dark empty room.
I was supposed to be running the apothecary alongside the local witch, so it should not have come as a surprise that she came looking for me. Perhaps it was the healer in her, or perhaps I had spent too long in the company of entitled noblemen, but it was not her ire I received, as Iâd been expecting, but rather sympathy. Kindness.
I broke down in her arms.
After a few weeks of adjustment and good company, I started to feel like myself again. There were still plenty of tears, but laughter too, and there was so much to learn, so much the witch was willing to teach me.
She was the first to suggest I might be pregnant.
It was a ridiculous assertion, until it wasnât. The nausea, the exhaustion, the rounding out of my middle. It would have made perfect sense if it werenât impossible.
âWe perform magic for a livingâwhat is impossible to us?â sheâd said.
And thatâs when I remembered the fertility potion. If the king had given it to Henry at any point before the weddingâŠ
I pressed a hand to my stomach, fingers molding to the soft curve beneath my belly button. Joy and hope swirled with fear and melancholyâthis child was supposed to belong to Henry and his princess, to the king and his people. But there would be other children, even without magical intervention, and I could not bring myself to regret taking this piece of him with me.
The first whispers of war started around the first time I felt the babe stirring in my womb. A conscription for soldiers came soon after, followed closely by a call for healers. I was the obvious choice, strong and gifted and young, but the witch would hear none of it.
Sheâd volunteered herself in order to keep me from the battle, but even she could not keep the battle from coming to me.
Over the next few months my services shifted from delivering babies to delivering funeral rites, from casting enchantments of blessing and bounty to ones of shelter and separation. Boats flying foreign banners gathered in the harbor as the beaches crowded with camps of our own.
I offered sacrifices to the sea to keep her churning and tumultuous, too dangerous to approach her jagged shores. Spells of protection spilled constantly from my lips, and the armies took it as an auspicious sign that no men were lost even as the sky darkened with volley after volley of arrows.
But the continual release of magic took its tollâone that I couldnât afford to continue paying once the contractions started.
They kept me up most of the night, so I was already awake when a soft knock sounded at the front door in the quiet pre-dawn. The man was obviously a soldier, though he was not currently in uniform, and cocked an amused smile at me.
âAnd I thought the war was taking its toll on ME.â He shifted slightly under my irritated glare. âEhm, youâre the town mage, yeah?â
I pressed the heels of my palms into my tired eyes and sighed. âWhat do you need?â I asked, annoyance suddenly replaced with an anxious weariness. A piece of paper was placed in my hand and I looked back up at him. âWhatâs this?â
âA note.â Obviously. âFrom my commander.â He glanced back toward the cliffs overlooking the shore before giving me a quick salute. âBest be getting back now.â
A sense of foreboding washed over me and I sat heavily into a chair as I unfolded the letter. I recognized the handwriting immediately and the baby twisted wildly in response to my racing heart.
âI was supposed to die out here. To sacrifice myself. To perish in dishonor and anonymity and hope it would be enough to appease the disgraced king. And I was readyâit was my fault, after all.
But you saved us. You are still saving us. I know itâs you. I can feel you in the air, the salt, the sea, just as real as the last time I saw you, the last time I held you in my arms. But you cannot forestall destiny forever.
There is so much I wanted to tell you, but it is enough to know you are here with me at the end. Just as you always were. I would not change a thing.
I love you.
âHâ
I ran out of the house, stumbling over frantic unbalanced feet, and dropped to my knees at the precipice of the bluffs. He was down there, somewhere among the thousands of armored men arranged in neat, intimidating blocks glinting in the golden light of the rising sun.
Henry was here, and he still loved me, and our child was coming⊠and the ships were getting closer.
The rocks beneath my hands were warm and hummed with anticipation. I tried to force my magic to travel through them, to seek out the soldiersâ feet and ward them with whatever power I had left to give. But a sharp pain in my lower back broke my concentration and it didnât even reach the beach.
The ships anchored close enough to the shoreline that the navyâs longer range weapons could easily find their mark, but too far for any man to hope to swim there without being shot down. The invading force didnât need to strike hard or fast, they just needed to bide their time and pick off Henry and his men one by one until there was no one left.
Cowards.
Righteous fury burned away the weight of fatigue and I began the long trek down to the ocean. My enchanted cloak was better than any shield, the spells on my tongue sharper and more deadly than any sword. I was waist deep in the still water when the only voice that could have pierced through my cloud of anger reached my ears. It was yelling my name with the same intense desperation I felt. I turned, and the world fell away as my eyes landed on Henryâmy friend, my prince, my love. With a flick of my wrist he stopped, mid-sprint, but his gaze never wavered.
âI will not let you die here today.â The words were barely more than a whisper, but I sprinkled them in with the wind and knew they had reached him when his face turned desperate and he began struggling against the invisible shackles at his ankles. âI love you too much for that.â
I didnât wait to see how he responded to that before turning back to the reason Iâd come. I began chanting and the water receded around me in a circle. The ocean held its own kind of magical power, and all wizards knew it was a foolâs errand to try and control a force of nature.
But I had always been a fool when it came to Henry.
The connection Iâd established was intense and threatened to consume and overwhelm. Drown. But the twinges of pain and flutter of kicks moored me to my body, my mission. Shafts of arrows sprouted from the sand around me, but stopped suddenly when a wall of water rose up and blocked their path. It felt as though I bore the whole weight of it on my shoulders and I shouted my own battle cry even as I was brought to my knees. My body twisted and trembled, but did not break. When it towered as tall as the surrounding cliffs I threw out my hands and fell forward, the giant wave falling with me. A thunderous crack echoed off the rocks, the mighty road of the water mingling with the cries of broken men and splintering ships.
The sun was high, but to me the world was dark and cold and heavy. Arms were pulling me from the foamy aftermath, but I didnât even have the strength to dispel the water flooding my lungs. My whole body ached and I recoiled from the fist pounding into my back. I tried to scream in pain, but all that came out was a violent spray that tore at my throat and caused my chest to spasm and seize. The air that replaced it was like breathing fire, but then Henryâs mouth was on mine and there was nothing more I wanted to do than keep breathing him in.
I gasped and pulled away when the insistent pressure between my hips peaked, unable to answer Henryâs frantic, worried questions.
âGet the healer!â he commanded, and I saw a shadow retreat from my curled up position in the sand. Then, leaning in close to nuzzle at the spot just below my ear, âYou cannot leave me.â
âIs thatââ I coughed and winced, holding tightly to the hand he offered, âa request or an order?â
There was some shuffling and grumbling and then I heard a familiar voice that almost brought tears to my eyes. âWhat were you thinking taking on Mother Nature like that? Have I taught you nothing!â The witchâs warm, motherly face tutted affectionately as she knelt down and took in the state of me. Her assessing gaze paused on the hand I had wrapped around my stomach, which was still pretty well concealed beneath the folds of my robe. âHow far along are we then?â
âIâm⊠not sure,â I admitted, but the next contraction told her all she needed to knowâI was close.
âFar along with what?â Henry asked, looking between the two of us. âWhat donât I know?â
âThis the guy?â the witch asked in a stage whisper. I nodded and she hummed in approval. âCute. Can you make it back to the shop?â My inability to answer was answer enough and she turned to Henry. âI donât suppose the princeâs quarters are equipped with a bed?â
I would have been difficult to carry all the way to Henryâs tent in the sand amidst the wreckage even if I werenât weighed down by the drenched fabric, so I was maneuvered onto a shield and dragged. It was undignified, but at least it was quick.
I tugged at the stifling garment as soon as the flaps closed behind us, but my muscles were spent and I whined when it clung stubbornly to my body. Henry took over the task and his breath hitched as the changes in my body became apparent, now only thinly veiled beneath a light dressing gown.
âWhatâs wrong with him?â He was looking at me but the question was directed toward the witch.
She ignored him, instead running her hands lightly over my prone form, checking for injuries. She lingered at my feet, my wrists, my chest, my head, and the cool tingle of a healing spell soothed cracks and tears I hadnât even realized were there. âYouâre lucky, kid,â she huffed when she was satisfied, settling her hands on her hips.
âHeâs okay?â
I wanted to ease Henryâs concerns, to wrap my arms around him and kiss away the worry lines between his brows, but my arms buckled as soon as I tried to push myself up to reach him. I have the witch an accusatory look, but she just shrugged unapologetically.
âCanât do much about the energy drain,â she explained. âThatâs the magicâs doingâyou picked a hell of a time to bring your body to its limit.â
âWhat does she mean?â I groaned and Henry tucked me into his side, holding me as I crumpled and shook under the force of a pain he did not understand. When I stilled a minute or so later, he stroked my hair and brushed his thumb across my cheek. âYou know you can tell me anything.â
I took his hand, stroked my fingers across the place where his wedding band would be if he werenât on the battlefield. He shook his head, didnât understand. My throat was ragged and raw but I managed, âYour w-wifeâŠâ the word burning worse than the saltwater.
âMyââ He pulled away just far enough to give me an incredulous look. âIâm not married. I couldnât go through with the wedding afterâŠâ he glanced toward the witch and a light blush swept across his skin. âWell, after. Her father was not happy, obviously.â He nodded toward the entrance to the tent, toward the tattered fleet just on the other side, and yeah, that was an understatement. âI thought you knew, I thoughtâfuck, you did this thinking I belonged to another?â
âI didnât know,â I rasped, âyou loved me like that⊠too.â
He took the hand I still had on his and intertwined our fingers. I squeezed him back tightly as a cramp wound its way around my stomach, my hips, my back.
His other hand fluttered around me uselessly as he begged us both, âPlease, what can I do? Whatâs wrong?â
âFrom what I understand,â the witch explained to Henry, as I was otherwise occupied, âyour father slipped you a fertility potion right before your wedding and you knocked up the wrong person. That about right?â
I cringed at the crass explanation, but nodded.
âI donâtâwhat does that mean? What do you mean?â
I positioned his large hand across the firm expanse of my belly. âIt means Iâm having a baby, Henry.â The next contraction was starting, bringing with it an urge almost as powerful as the ocean. âMm, right now,â I warned, my knees shifting restlessly in a fruitless attempt to open my hips.
âWhat? You canât!â Henry protested.
âI wouldnât argue that with him right now,â the witch said, putting a comforting hand on my knee. âWhaddaya say, kid? How do you wanna do this?â
âBed. Please.â
With considerable assistance, I made my way to the small cot and it was heaven against my aching joints. Following my bodyâs instinctsâfor whatever they were worth in a situation like thisâI rolled onto my side, drawing one knee up to pull against as I bore down with the immense pressure building inside me. Henry quickly took over holding the position when it was apparent that my strength should be focused elsewhere.
âYouâre doing so well, my love,â he whispered, though there was no way either of us could know that was true. âIâm right here. You can do this.â
My hips were much more narrow than a womanâs and progress was torturously slow. My already meager strength waned and I had no way to replenish itâI couldnât eat or drink anything without it coming back up. The sky had just begun to darken when a hellish burn started to accompany my efforts and I could not stop myself from wailing with each push.
âI canât,â I sobbed for the thousandth time as my body stubbornly refused to release the life trapped inside it.
âNo one else gonna do it for ya,â the witch reminded me, quite unhelpfully.
âIâm going to tear in two.â
âYep, yep. Thatâs the head tryin to come throughâthis is the hardest bit, lad, but itâs right there, I can see it even now!â
âWait, really?â Henryâs eyes went from anxious to alight as they flicked to to gap between my legs. âThatâs a baby,â he said, as if it was the first time he actually believed it. Maybe it was. A tear eked out from the corner of his eye and followed the strong line of his jaw as he kissed my raised knee with a disbelieving and semi-hysterical laugh. âThatâs our baby.â My stomach tightened before I was ready and I whined. âPush now, keep pushing.â
I would give Henry anything he asked of me, but in this case there was nothing left to give. As soon as I held my breath, my head went fuzzy and my grip slackened. I tried again, sucking in a quick breath only to release it on an anguished cry.
âI canât,â I said again, shivering despite the heat radiating from my body. âYou need to save the baby. Please, I canâtâjust save the baby.â
Henry studied me seriously for a moment before releasing his hold on my leg. Whatever he saw must have been enough to convince him that I meant it, and he took my face in his hands, forcing me to look into his eyes and see the determination there as he echoed my own words back to me. âI will not let you die here today.â
I believed him.
Henry pulled me gently but firmly to a seated position the end of the bed, then settled himself at my back. At the start of the next contraction he inched forward, forcing me off the edge and into a deep squat. His strong grip kept me from collapsing to the floor but I howled as gravity added to the unbearable weight in my core.
âThatâs it, just let it come now,â the witch soothed as the head suddenly came to a full crown in her palm.
âHenry, Iââ I gasped and shuddered, slumping in relief as the rest of the head slipped out.
âI know, itâs almost over.â
âNo.â I craned my neck so that I could look up into his eyes. âItâs only just beginning.â His returning smile was radiant, fighting back the dark pull of unconsciousness long enough for me to give one last strained, desperate push.
âBorn in the caul,â the witch remarked as she cleaned off the baby, rubbing it down until it began to wriggle and cry and then placing itâhim, I realized, my heart skipping a beatâin my arms. âSupposed to be good luck, and seems to me you all are gonna need it.â
You swallow over your knuckles in your mouth, hissing with each breath. Your boyfriend holds you, shaking your shoulder with concern. âWhy the fuck did you do that?â
âI-If I got hurt, itâd be ok because I can take it.â You give a shaky thumbs up, before pain grips you again with a groan. He holds onto you tight.
âDo I look like I know what to do?? What if you get hurt?â
You lean your head against his chest, whining. âIâd rather you be here.â He looks down with worry, gripping you tighter. Another cramp seizes you as your back arches. He slips your hand into yours, giving it a gentle squeeze.
In order to get close to the monster, to even hit him, you needed to get close. And as you did, with its appendages sliding over you forcefully you knew what it wanted. A thick one pushed back into your throat, pulsing gently as more moved across your hips and ass, trying to find its entrance. You just needed to get close enough, you had one shot to hit this thing. Dragging closer, Your clothes are peeled off your body. One the size of your fist ruts hard against your ass, pressing insistently. Somethingâs pumped down your throat. It makes your vision blur, the things rubbing harshly over your legs feeling vaguely pleasurable now. You feel like itâs trying to break your jaw as it forces deeper, the one at the back painfully breaching your ass. With a gagged cry it plunges deep, rubbing against your insides slickly. It rummages deeper, going farther than you thought possible. Thank fuck it wasnât anyone else, this might not be survivable. Bright pain fills your stomach, and the thing grinds into you, thrumming and pushing. Your cock is limp against your leg, and something light and thin takes it, stroking over it. The contrasting pain and pleasure makes your vision almost white out, your dick getting hard against your wishes. You ball your hands into shaky fists, and the things stop for a second, observing you. Youâre not close enough to do anything, you canât move yet. You sob as the one deep inside you thrusts again, the pain sparking. The smaller one rubs lazy circles around your tip, feeling almost uncomfortable. It rubs over your slit, and your eyes flick down as more come in from the sides to restrain you. The tip slowly dips inside of you, and your hips and arms immediately move, rejecting it. The monster stills you, pressing deeper with a horrible stretching pain. Youâve had things in your ass, but never here. The pain is unfamiliar and your body screams in rejection as it slides so deep you feel like it must have met the other inside you. Sharp pain bites inside you again, and it starts to thrust, slowly. You cry out, trying to bite on the unyielding rubbery object in your mouth. Your stomach feels like it flips as the one in your ass moves impossibly deeper, snaking its way through. A thick warm huge lump the size of a watermelon rests at your ass, as you really start to freak out. You clench, trying to keep it at bay as itâs forced into you painfully, screaming. Your legs are spread, and it feels heavy and unyielding as it horribly spreads you, popping inside. It works its way deeper, an uncomfortable lump resting inside you, visible from your once flat stomach. As another meets your ass, a worse pain comes as something tries to come into your cock. You try moving your hips away desperately again, gagging as it presses hard into you. You feel it inch into your head, then through your shaft as another presses at the tip again. You hope this ends soon.
He gently rubs your back. âYouâre so stupid. We could have done something, anything but this.â You take heavy breaths against him, shaking, the new pain too much to say anything. Youâve been filled, way too much than what should be possible, and your bodyâs trying to push everything out in rejection, even though itâs settled and grown inside of you. Another pain blooms up your back as your legs shake, hugging your boyfriend. âIt needs to come out, honey.â You shake your head. Nobody should have to see this, he was supposed to deal with it alone. The objects in you feel like gravel against your insides. Youâve been alone for hours, your body can keep it in for just a few more until youâre alone. Another horrible pain hits you, you feel something shift painfully.
ân-noâŠâ The monster was killed, your goal accomplished and nobody else hurt. He looks at you with a deep worry, propping you up against his chest.
âYou need to, youâre in pain.â You know itâs going to hurt worse coming out than it did going in, the objects have only grown. He gently lifts up your legs despite your protests, and you feel something huge almost brush against your spine. You choke out a sob, and he squeezes your hand, kissing your forehead. âCâmon, please.â You bite your lip, another hard cramp hitting you as one of the objects shifts lower.
âI canât... J-just let me wait until we get home-â Another groan as a new pain hits, the object settling heavy against his hips. It rests uncomfortably against the bone, and your boyfriend gently presses into your ass with his fingers, opening you up gently. Pain radiates up your back. You hold onto him as you groan, his fingers meeting the smooth surface of the object. Itâs an egg, hard and unyielding. You grip onto his arm as your body forces it lower against your will, your hips aching. It gets caught there, refusing to move lower for now. He can see the eggâs shell as you shake against him. He rubs your stomach.
âPush, honey. I canât see you like thisâŠâ Another pain rolls through as your body forces you to bear down, as you hold your breath. The egg painfully comes to a crown, getting caught and scraping against bone.
âI-I want it b-back in⊠I canât do thisâŠâ He kisses over your forehead as you breathe through your teeth.
âKeep going, honey.â He rubs against your lower stomach as another horrible pain hits, and you can do nothing but sob as the egg refuses to move.
â PleaseâŠâ Another sharp pain, and you push, your hips spreading impossibly far only for it to shift down a small centimeter. His hands press uncomfortably on your stomach, and he finds the fat end of the stuck egg. He gently pushes as you scream immediately, clenching hard. ân-no.. stop pleaseâŠâ He looks down at you pitifully.
âIt needs to come out, I canât watch you be in pain like that.â He squeezes your hand, pushing again. Your back arches as you try and hold it in, the egg grinding against your hips as your body and his hand work against you. With a sharp crack, pain fills your body.
âFUCK! S-STOP!â He jolts his hand away. Your fractured hips rub together painfully as your body continues to contract, the egg now pressing at your hole. A sharp, new pain hits. Your cock stirs impossibly, you should be in too much pain to be getting hard. Your boyfriend looks down at you as your eyes are glued shut, as something shifts in you. You cry out again, the egg causing your ass to wink as you feel pain like youâre about to split open. The fiery hot pain comes to rest as an egg sized lump against your crotch, behind your cock. You cry out, holding onto him as the urge to push rolls through you. âSomethingâs happening-!â
He holds you, unsure, as more pain and pressure builds at your crotch. ââŠCalm down, ok?â You groan, arching your back as it feels like the pain is squeezing through into the base of your cock, the round orb being visible.
ââŠoh godâ He swallows thickly as you openly cry, your cock throbbing thickly against your stomach, refusing to let anything move further. Your hand moves down to your cock, and you desperately try to squeeze the egg back into you, the pain too much to deal with. It proves resistant, the second you inch it lower is accompanied by blinding pain. âstop doing that. You need to keep pushing.â You whine. Your body does it for you, another egg seeming to weave through you painfully, pushing the other into your cock.
ân-no!! stop it!â The egg is fully in, a bulge very visible as your cock stretches around it. A painful urge at your back tells you to push, your body insistent that both eggs leave. A weak push at your ass and immediately the one in your cock decides to move, with a scream. It rests painfully at your head. You thrust, crying out as the egg crowns and then keeps slipping back inside. Itâs too big but the pain is too much to deal with. Another egg pushes into your cock impatiently as you sob. The urge to push again, harder as you bear down. The egg peeks out with all the effort you can muster, the tapered tip visible before you relax and it slips back inside with a cry. Another pain coming up from your stomach, another egg. There are three in your cock now, itâs incredibly painful and the first one is blocking their exit, the pressure building impossibly. Your head is stretched to the maximum, the soft yellow of the egg showing, but it refuses to stretch further, blocking its only exit. Another egg. It feels like youâre about to scream again as the fourth pushes in, thereâs no room in your cock for four eggs. You see more of the egg slip through, but your head still refuses to stretch. You push, the egg slowly making its way through. âItâs n-not gonna fit!!â You say with a sob, pushing as hard as you can. With a sharp pain, an egg slips past another inside you, and you cry out, not stopping your pushing in desperation. The pressure is unbearable as more and more eggs line up behind it. You cry, pushing and pushing with little progress. Then another horrible urge hits you, the urge to cum. You jerk yourself off quickly, crying as you touch your cock, the bulges in it palpable. Your boyfriend watches you with concern, his hand slowly going to replace yours, jerking you off for you. He gently pumps you, and for a moment the pressure worsens painfully. You whine as he keeps pumping you, and with two more strokes you cum, the egg popping out while cum dribbles out of you. He kisses you, rubbing over your stomach as eggs slowly push out of you with the cum. The one at your ass sits there hard and heavy, your body clenching and pushing around it impatiently. He finds the end of it again, gently pushing. It makes a small crown, but canât go any further without you pushing. It inches out, and something in him pops as he loses concentration. Something in his stomach moves and heaves.
âYou need to. leave.â You say with a whine, the egg blocking the creature's exit.
âIâm not leaving you, honey.â You wail as it descends, resting at his aching hips.
âI need to push, please. Please I donât want you hurt.â It presses hard against his hips, and he cries. âSTOP!â The egg rests impatiently inside him, as this big creature places tons of pressure right on his hips. âItâs coming, please go. Oh my god please.â You clench around it, trying to slow it as it painfully pushes the egg out. It stretches, slowly coming to its widest point before sinking back inside. You cry out, bucking your hips. The eggâs really starting to become painful.
âIâm not leaving you.â
ân-no.. itâs coming pleaseâŠâ He kisses over you as the egg pushes out again, this time slowly popping out with a slick noise. He sees that the eggâs huge, and something even bigger is currently exiting. You get the urge to spread your legs as it barrels down lower, pushing as it quickly spreads you fully. Itâs far too big to exit like this, and you cry as it continues to push even when you stop. A slick tendril pops out of you, pulling its way out as you cry, something tearing painfully before the mass slides out of you. He kicks it away.
âYou did it honey. Youâre so great, thank you.â He kisses you, holding you as you cry. âI love you so much.â
hey! Idk why the formatting is so weird but thank you :)
Hi, if you're still doing the potion game, can you do human baby with orgasmic birth + painful + horny? Thanks, xoxo
He'd be the one to bear heirs, he'd been told. It was his duty as the betrothed to the throne. He'd brushed it off, aware he didn't have the parts necessary. He'd attended numerous births - as was his duties as the castle midwife, of course - so he was intimately aware of what parts were needed to bear young. Of which he did not have.
So now, a year and some after his betrothal (and subsequent marriage) to the crown princess, labour pains cramping his belly as his child writhed within. His love was behind him, her strong hands massaging into his lower back, where the much of his pain seemed to be centered. His hips swayed, easing the pressure within as it grew.
Bard ran his hands over his belly, feeling the child moving, following his hands with their own movements. He could feel the head pressing down, the pressure of the heir and the waters that contained them pressing to the exit of his womb. The impending birth weighed in his mind as much as his hips, his cock rising at the soon to be events.
"Mhm... my love, do you want to move?" The sweet voice of his wife rang in his ears, and he hummed softly, leaning against his love. She leaned closer, lips brushing his ear. "We could even do what I'd proposed last fortnight." A teasing lilt tinted her voice, the smirk evident before he turned his head.
"I'd like that, my love. Do you have it?" He asked, hands pressing to the underside of his belly, low breath blown through his lips with the next pain. She nods, the jewels woven into her hair glinting in the candlelight, helping him to the bed behind her before crossing the room, pulling something from the secret chamber hidden amongst the wall.
She crossed the room back to him, holding the object up for him to view before setting it beside him, shedding the rest of her garments into a pile on the floor. Alais clambered into the bed, splaying herself amongst the linens, reaching for the toy. It looked much like a cock, with a small gallows on the end. She slipped it between her folds, letting her glistening slick collect on it, gently easing it into herself.
Bard moved his hands from his gravid belly, grabbing the gallows and pumping them a couple times, hearing his love moan, her head tipped back. She spread her legs more, the pressure within growing as he worked the gallows, pumping until she begged him to stop. He gently pulled the gallows from the end, having practiced these motions numerous nights before with Alais.
As crown princess, her beloved was to carry their heirs, leaving her in a steady position for ruling. Yet she still craved the feeling of being stretched around the head of an heir, so they'd found a substitute, allowing her to feel the stretch, yet keep with her duties.
As his own due date approached, they'd agreed to this, the two of them 'laboring' next to each other, only to birth when he felt he was ready. Alais shifted her hips, feeling the pressure within, the toy pressing against her insides. Bard's own insides felt similarly, the head of their firstborn bearing through the exit of his womb.
He'd shed his clothes earlier in the evening, the stiff fabrics too much for his laboring form. And now they both lay together, naked as the day they'd been born, pressure growing in their hips with each moment.
Alais folded first, the pressure growing too much for her to bear, and Bard positioned himself between her thighs, one hand on his contracting womb. "Alright, love. Push, bear down on our child," he says, leaning between her thighs, looking at her over her slightly rounded belly. She bears down, feeling the 'head' barreling through her, bulging her pussy out against his face. He grinned, tongue dancing over the tip of her clit, watching her hips jump from the bed at the stimulation.
"Push, my love! Push, birth our child," he rambles between licks, his hands on his own low belly. She bore down again, thighs trembling as she did, the head starting to stretch her apart. Bard's cock hung between his thighs, and one of his hands moved to it, rubbing it in time with her pushes. His thighs trembled under the pleasure, hips jumping as he fucked his hand lazily, focused on his wife.
She bore down, chin to her chest, letting out a gasp as the toy stretched her more, nearing its widest point. He fucked his hand faster, determined to make her cum the toy out as he came. His tongue danced across her skin, flattening against her clit with a soft sigh of warm breath. "Almost there, my love. Feel our child stretch through you. One more solid push should birth them," he praises, lifting his head and moving his hand from his belly to her clit, rubbing it earnestly.
Her back arched as she screamed in ecstacy, toy popping from her cunt. The sight brought him through the edge, his cum soaking into the bedlinens. A pause, contraction wracking his womb, followed by a release of pressure, which flowed from his cock with a moan. He felt their child moving, pressing into his tunnel.
He quickly sat up on his knees, feeling the base of his belly, a bulge starting to form there. He moaned at the feeling, knowing that the worst pain would come. Alais moved, kneeling in front of him, hands gently cupping his cock.
"Coming, the heir is coming." His voice is strained with the pressure, with the urge to bear down. He did so, hands moving to grip his wife's shoulders. His stance widened, knees spread to allow the heir room to press into his cock. His wife's hands gently massaged his cock, forcing him to moan as the pleasure of her touch melded with the pain of the stretch.
A breath, and he bore down again, breath hitching as the head stretched his cock more with each effort. A cry sounded as he forced the head to his tip, the slit starting to round into a circle as the head pressed against it. He felt Alais's fingers moving, one hand cupping his balls under his swollen shaft. He moaned, bearing down again, feeling the head stretch him more and more with each push.
Near crowning, the pain overwhelmed the pleasure from Alais, and he shook his head, collapsing forth to all fours. "I can't, ohh, the heir is too big, they won't fit!" He babbled, body shaking with the pain brought by the stretch. Alais crooned in his ear, fingers gently moving to press against his ass, slipping in with little resistance, causing him to moan.
"Good boy, focus on my fingers, focus on my fingers and the urge to push, ignore the pain and the pressure," she hummed, gently thrusting her fingers into his ass. He eased a little, bearing down again with a cry of pain as he forced the head to crown, cock stretched wide around it. He panted for breath, legs trembling beneath him.
Alais crooked her fingers, pressing them to his prostate, causing him to moan out, back arched as the head surged forth. "C'mon, my love. Almost done bringing my heir to the world. Now push," Alais instructs, feeling his body tense as he bears down again. The head pops free with a scream, of ecstacy or pain, Alais isn't sure.
Bard shudders, kneeling back on his haunches, reaching to cup the head of their heir with a shaky breath. "Right there, our heir is right there," he sniffles, looking to Alais. She nods, smiling to him.
"Knew you could do it, love. Now, breathe, focus on the shoulders. Finish your task!" She encourages. He nods, taking a breath before bearing down again, feeling one broad shoulder stretch its way free of him. The other follows quickly, the tip of his cock stretched grotesquely around the torso of their child. He pauses, huffing for breath before pushing again, birthing scream torn from his throat as the baby slips free, a rush of fluid following, and Alais pulls her fingers from her husband.
"So good, my love. Look at our heir," she coos, nestling herself against him as he cradles the child. "Did good," she adds, kissing his temple. He sniffles, overwhelmed at the comedown from birthing, panting softly as he watches his child start to sup.
Fill for 264.8: Imagine that you're death who has fallen in love with life
Note: Longtime lurker, first time poster. SooâŠI had this in my WIP folder since 2020 and decided to finish it.
Prompt: Death is pregnant but hides it from others until one late night he feels his bones crashing from the contractions and gives birth to another death -K
Here you go:
â
To put it simply, Death hated everything about Life. He hated everything about how she moved so easily across the human realm. How people would rejoice in her footsteps unlike the raucous parade of sorrows that Death would incur. He hated how she fixed everything when he had things just how he liked it.
Yet they moved together. Where there was Death, Life was always present and where Life would go, Death would follow. In the human realm with his pockets full of souls, Death would linger in hopes that sheâd appear. In the cracks of concrete, in disparate deserts, in final rasping breaths, Death would look for her and she would find a way to make herself known.
Sometimes she would leave him gifts, a rabbit being torn apart by a pack of hungry cubs or a blooming belladonna. And Death tried in his own way. Mostly, he brought her rot to feed insects and nourish her flowers.
Piofiore no Banshou -Episodio 1926- FEATURE from Bâs Log Magazine December 2020
~New characters, new scenarios~ Episodio 1926 will feature a story continuing where the previous game left off from the TRUE ending epilogue (as well as an after story following the GOOD ending). Also included is the prequelâs story in the male love interestâs POV and Henriâs after story.
Scans: katokathy
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