‘Mounted’ as a word gets me so 😵💫😵💫,,, being mounted sounds so possessive, so encompassing, so primal,,,, hhhhh bunny brain likes the word a lot,, help. Getting ‘mounted’ is right up there with getting ‘bred’ I must confess whewf
Imagine you didn’t know you were pregnant when you went into labor
Imagine you didn’t know you were pregnant when you went into labor. Your light symptoms had easily been explained away by other conclusions, like your already-irregular cycle, and you hadn’t gotten very big. Your stomach had pouched out into a small, firm slope as if you were bloated, something you’d attributed to a newly increased appetite.
You haven’t had much morning sickness over the course of your pregnancy, but today you woke up ill. Since your cycles are so irregular you’d figured it must be time for another painful period, and if that wasn’t enough you also feel… Heavy. It’s strange– not quite like you’re constipated, but like there’s a softball weighing down on your pelvis, giving you occasional cervical cramps.
After a few hours of rolling around in bed, you get up to go eat, unable to wait much longer. You pour yourself a bowl of cereal and sit on the couch, vaguely aware of your tense abdominal muscles, and try to relax. Midway through your bowl, you have to put it down and breathe, clenching your fingers on your couch’s cushions as a cramp shoots up through you. It feels like that softball of pressure is being pressed down inside of you, and that pressure comes with a rather long cramp. The cramp eventually leaves, but the pressure doesn’t, prompting you to hurry to the bathroom.
pretty boy cockwarming my strap while ‘m studying that transitions into him bouncing on my strap and whining for my help until ‘m bending him over my desk and keeping his head pressed against the cold glass and watching how pretty he looks with his eyes rolling back and drooling and all dumbed out while my strap slides in and out of his pretty tight hole while making him cum over and over again <3
The Run-Away Prince and His Knight (original story)
*WARNING: This is fetish content! Read at your own discretion.*
Warning #2: VERY. LONG. 10 thousand words.
Also putting up some preemptive rules here:
You do not have my permission to re-post my writing (reblogging is welcome and encouraged, but not re-posting).
You do not, under any circumstances, have my permission to use this or any of my works for generative ai purposes.
With that out of the way,
The long awaited run-away prince x knight story is here! I tried to make this a long one but hopefully not to the point that it’s boring to read. Basic background is that a prince and his ftm trans knight run away from their kingdom which demands the prince be married and blah blah some medieval fantasy politics that the prince wants to avoid. The prince and his knight are in love with each other, though they don’t quite know it yet. But they’ve already been sleeping together and… well… made an oops!
This story has:
Very intense and realistic depiction of birth
Stealth FTM knight
Mostly long pushing phase (again. seriously. this is 10k.)
A cranky old midwife who is probably a witch but we love her for it
Dad’s (the prince’s) pov
Sappy love confessions
Introducing these original characters I made for this story and now totally love: Bastian and Leo. And their baby, of course.
~~~~~~~~~~
Bastian knows he’s pacing. This is fine. There’s nothing wrong with pacing, especially when his nerves are absolutely on fire and he has no other outlet. And here, though he’s struggling to accept this, it’s okay for him to let his guard down, to be afraid. Here, he is not a prince. Here he is just Bastian, with no duties and no expectations.
They had to stop somewhere in the south of Spain, Bastian and his knight, who is the bravest of all indeed. Their decision to run away together and leave France far behind had been an impulsive one, but one that barely needed spoken agreement. Leo, his brave, beautiful, strong knight, sees him like no other. And it is the same the other way around.
In the kingdom, Bastian was the only person with whom Leo had shared his secrets. Perhaps this was because, since early adolescence, they had essentially grown up together. They were not bound by the rules and expectations that a prince and a knight would normally follow. They were different, always had been.
So, it was only Bastian who Leo came to, to share his secret. This was a secret not a single other living person knew, and a secret Bastian had intended to fight to keep to his grave:
Leo was a woman.
Well, he was a woman only in the sense that his body was female. In all other respects, he was Leo, who had always been a boy, now a knight. He had told this to Bastian many years ago, when they were still adolescents and the weight of the world and all its expectations had not yet come down on them.
It was fun, for a while, keeping the secret. Now, it’s dangerous. Now, only they two can know.
Bastian had stopped denying his love for Leo a long time ago. What would be the use to deny it, when it burned so fiercely? He only hoped that Leo shared these feelings, though he was afraid to ask. He was not the brave one of the two of them…
They shared a certain carnality for each other that was undeniable. The first time they made love was when they were still within the kingdom, hiding who they were in the shadows, always keeping an eye on the door. They would meet in the stables and lay together there on the few nights a year that they had the chance.
Now free, unbound, they made love frequently and without guilt.
Of course, this came with its own consequences.
In the tavern’s cheapest, darkest, and most isolated room, Bastian continues to pace. He steals glances at Leo, afraid that if he stares too long he will break with guilt for what he’s done to his love.
Leo is also pacing, though much slower and waddly. As he waddles, his head drops forward then back, his long red hair shifting to cover his face. His expression is hard to make out in the dim candlelight, but Bastian can detect the hint of tightness between his brows, though Leo’s hair once again covers his face, and he can see it no longer.
Leo is still wearing his white linen tunic that he wears under his clothes, which once was long enough to go down to his knees. Now, it’s the mound of his belly that lifts it up and stretches the fabric taut, lifting the hem to the point of his hips. Leo’s hands are supporting the small of his back as he breathes very deeply and slowly with intention, closing his eyes to concentrate against the pain.
He has swelled very large in the last several months. For a time, the life within him went entirely unnoticed by both Leo and Bastian. Leo is not a small man, though he is not large either. He is slightly taller than average and very lean, with narrow hips. His muscles, of which there are plenty, are unique in that they hide so well beneath his skin, one would never know that he is a war-seasoned swordsman.
Perhaps it was his thinness or the tightness of his abdomen that made the mound invisible for so many months. Now, though, it has practically spilled out from the front of his body, round and low over his pelvis, with a popped-out bellybutton that is strangely sweet to behold.
Bastian’s eyes unwillingly take him to Leo’s belly and he can’t help but stare. It tightens inward with each wave of pain, which it seems Leo is having now, and it is honestly fascinating to watch. It pains Bastian, though. Really, he feels useless.
Leo has been labouring well though, all things considered. That is, it’s his first time and the two of them don't know enough about childbirth.
How careless Bastian has been. It is his fault Leo suffers now.
His eyes on the floor, Bastian hears a slap and looks back up to Leo, who has just batted the old lady away from him as he moans and breathes.
They had picked up an old woman in this town, a few hours after the onset of Leo’s labour. Or rather, she picked them up. She had seen them in the town’s stables, Leo moaning and clutching his belly, though he tried to hide it beneath his thick winter clothes, and had known instantly what was going on. She asked no questions, just took them along with her and got them a room in this tavern.
She did everything with an odd indignance, as if chastising Bastian and Leo for being stupid children. Bastian’s first impression of her, if he’s being honest, was fear. In all aspects, she resembles a witch. A bent back, long knobby fingers like twigs and overgrown, scraggly white hair. She even has some sort of wart or mole on her chin. She is the picture of witches in the fairy tales Bastian’s servants read to him growing up.
But as far as he can tell, she is not a witch. She had told them that she could help, that she is a healer and midwife, and of course Bastian immediately accepted. They didn’t know what they were doing, and certainly needed help.
Leo, on the other hand, had not been so welcoming to her. In the past, he often dealt with pain by putting it somewhere deep inside. Bastian, still, is the only person who has seen Leo vulnerable, the only person who could ever treat his wounds and who Leo felt safe around.
“Old witch,” Leo had privately called the old woman, with a twitch to his mouth, when she had gone to get water from the well and they were safe inside the room. Bastian had barked a laugh.
Then when she had returned, the old witch had put a wrinkled hand on the top of Leo’s belly. He had drawn back, his hands protective over their child, but the old witch had kindness in her eyes as she told him, “She will be beautiful and fearsome.”
Leo and Bastian had both been in a state of shock. “She?” Leo had asked in a quiet voice.
The old witch had only smiled with her eyes.
Bastian knows that Leo is still convinced it will be a boy. Bastian tries not to put thought into it, because thinking about it would then make it real. He tries to stay present in the moment, to make himself useful in any small way he can, though it is so hard to see Leo in pain.
The thing is, he has seen Leo in pain, many times. His knight is a valiant fighter and protector. Too many times, it was Bastian who would patch up Leo’s wounds or offer a damp cloth for his head when he was tired after battle or after protecting Bastian outside the kingdom.
It’s all Bastian can think to do now, offering a cold cloth for Leo’s head.
He takes it, still waving the old midwife away. He puts the cloth over his face and inhales, and Bastian watches quietly as the midwife surprises him by backing off.
He only notices then that she has mostly honoured Leo’s wishes. It is clear that Leo does not want to be touched or spoken to, and that he will only let Bastian assist him. The midwife, though they all know that the time is coming for her to be more hands-on, stays back and simply busies herself by stoking the fire in the fireplace and hooking a pot of water over it.
Hours pass like this. The only way Bastian can tell the time is by the notches in the candles around the room. The midwife replaces the shorter ones too.
Hours crawl on until it is deep into the night, and Leo’s labour takes him all around the small room.
He is free to move as he pleases, though Bastian knows he is still keeping so much control by not making loud sounds. There’s no real reason why he should be quiet beyond the fact that Leo does not like to be seen in pain. That, and the owners of the tavern had not been notified that one of their lodgers is in labour.
And it’s real, now. Leo labours hard, pacing the room, leaning on the baseboard of the creaky bed, then finally kneeling on the floor, rocking forward and back as each pain causes him to moan and growl lower and deeper.
Bastian knows it’s coming soon, then. He kneels on the floor next to his knight, who is still working hard to get through this one pain.
Bastian makes himself useful by gathering Leo’s hair into a twist and moving it off his neck. It’s so long and soft, so orange and beautiful. Bastian adores every part of him, even the deep grumble of his breath as he leans down into the floor, hands like claws on the boards.
Finally, Bastian finds his voice. “Leo,” he whispers, “you are so strong. I’m with you. I’m right here with you.”
Leo surprises him by grabbing his wrist, pulling him down with him as he grunts a little bit tighter, pressing his bottom down into his heels, his head tucking down and all his long hair spilling loose.
Bastian scoots in front of him, both of them kneeling on the floor, so Leo can grab his arms. The sounds he’s making are different than before.
“If you feel a lot of pressure,” the midwife says from across the room, “you can push down with it.”
Leo slumps forward then with his first real grunt, tight and deep. It seems his body commands him to do it, as it just goes on and on and on and he’s unable to get a breath. All Bastian can do is clutch his arms and Leo clutches his, and bite down on his tongue as he steels himself for what is to come.
An eternity later, it ebbs away and Leo is able to gasp in a breath. He grabs at Bastian’s arms, his nails biting his skin.
“My prince,” he gasps, ignoring the midwife, “I-I need to push. It’s time. I have to…”
Bastian looks quickly to the midwife for help, his heart jumping in his throat.
“Try it,” she says. “Push down with the pressure.”
But he doesn’t, not consciously. His face is pinched in fear and strain, his cheeks pink, as his knightly instincts command him to look to Bastian for direction.
His body does it for him then, forcing him to squeeze down, groaning tight in his chest. Bastian holds him fiercely, sweating just watching.
“Ican’t…” Leo garbles out as he’s bearing down, his teeth bared. Then the tightness releases him just enough to grunt out, “I have to– UHH! Oh, GOD! My prince, I need to push!”
Bastian takes his hand this time, prying Leo’s rigid fingers from his tunic. “Then push, Leo,” he says. “Only you can do this. Trust your body, and push.”
One heavy breath, then two, a fearful, brave moment of eye contact. Then wondrously, Leo doesn’t resist it. He bites down, clenching his teeth and closing his mouth, and sends it all the way down into the floor, and then it’s happening. This battle into the unknown.
Bastian remembers Leo telling him once, that before he decided to become a soldier and eventually was knighted, he grew up on a small farm. He had assisted ewes in the births of lambs; he's no stranger to animal birth. At the very least, he knows the strength and determination that it will take to push.
Bastian, on the other hand, is in over his head. His only anchor is his knight, and so he puts all of his trust and love into Leo, simply following his will and his body’s urges. It is only Leo who will be able to bring this baby out.
It’s coming now. It’s coming.
After those first efforts and Bastian’s words, something in Leo visibly changes. He is emboldened, focused, ready to go headfirst into the pain like a bull.
He rips off his tunic, now damp and stained with his labouring sweat, and takes charge of the pain. There is no fear in him as he exposes himself fully naked with the midwife in the room, something he never would have done before this, and he lets the pain flow in and out.
Bastian knows how it is in Leo’s mind. Leo hardens himself with the same fortitude as he does before heading into battle.
Pushing does not take much adjustment. Leo simply follows the will of his body as it commands him to bear the child down and out. The sounds he makes go from powerful and guttural to almost mute as he concentrates.
Countless minutes are spent where Leo goes into a sort of up-down rhythm. He stands up, planting his feet firm and wide beneath him, and pushes quietly with his knees bent. Then he comes down and squats wide, his hands still on the tops of his knees, and continues to push that way.
He goes up or down according to his own will, holding each push for a while before it bursts airily out his lips. His efforts seem big to Bastian, though he expects Leo to be louder so he looks to the midwife for guidance.
She does not linger her gaze on Leo, knowing he doesn’t like it, but every once in a while she looks over and nods, speaking soft words of encouragement. She is busy sanitizing linens in the pot of boiling water.
Leo is upright as another pain comes on, and he puts his hands on the tops of his thighs as he bends down and open like he’s sitting in the air. Then with a big breath in, he closes his mouth tight and visibly tightens as he bears down.
His skin is so pale, Bastian marvels at how quickly Leo’s face, neck, and chest turn red with his effort. He holds it for only a few seconds, his eyes squeezing shut, and Bastian wants to encourage him but cannot speak.
“Bwuh,” The effort bursts out of Leo. That is when Bastian gets his bearings and sits in front of his love, offering his shoulder for support.
Leo takes it immediately as he locks in for another push, unable to speak, balling up Bastian’s tunic in a fist on his shoulder as he squeeeeezes down, opening his legs more.
Bastian gets a full view of his belly and crotch, the skin of his belly tightening and going in. It looks hard to the touch. Compelled by love and overwhelmed at the sight of Leo in such pain, Bastian puts his hands on Leo’s belly and feels the effort with him.
“Buhh” Leo expels airily, then tries to breathe slowly. His belly drops back outwards, but Bastian had felt something shift within. The mound is still hard; Bastian knows Leo is not done with this one.
“Breathe,” he tells him anyway, and Leo does.
Then Leo bends forward and over Bastian, spreading his legs wide and bending his knees down, and Bastian puts his hands on Leo’s hips to support him. Bowing over and leaning his head on Bastian’s shoulder, Leo grips Bastian’s biceps and holds down hard. Bastian can feel the strength of it against his own forehead, which is pressed to Leo’s big hard belly.
Both of their eyes are closed, just feeling it together. Leo is so strong, doing so well, Bastian has to hold back his tears as he feels Leo’s belly tensing, tensing, tensing, and something tumbling beneath the surface.
That is them, their child. And Leo is working so hard to get them out… Bastian is terrified to think about it, but as he feels their little feet kick against his forehead, he finds himself leaning into it, making his touch known.
Then Leo has to let the pressure out with an airy, “Dhuuhhhhh,” still against Bastian’s shoulder, and Bastian feels him gasp right away and bear down again. He squeezes Leo’s wide open hips, keeping him upright as he trembles and dips down just a little more and more.
Then something incredible happens. There’s an audible pop, then before Bastian can understand what’s happening, a huge splash of warm water all over his lap.
Leo expels with a sudden and strained sound, his legs shaking. The midwife is coming closer, assessing the waters it seems. Bastian is beside himself, panting as if he were the one pushing. Leo leans back, and it seems his body is finally giving him a break. They look at each other, and there’s fear there, but there is also bravery, determination, love.
Leo puts his hands on his belly and rubs down and up, both of them looking at their child. His eyes are so soft and glassy, the faintest dusting of pink on his cheeks as he pants, and he’s smiling.
It’s then that Bastian knows Leo will fight with his life for their child, and the fight begins here. He loves him.
The skies spill hail while Leo regains his strength after this pain. It is loud against the roof and the window sill, though not as loud as Leo’s breath as he trains it to calmly come in and out, filling his entire body.
The midwife gives him water to drink, which he takes. The three of them know that this is where it begins: they are just at the threshold of the real hard work, and Leo needs every bit of strength he has.
When he needs to push again, he goes away from Bastian and retreats into himself, focusing. He stands, gripping the baseboard of the bed and spreading his legs wide as he bends down into it again.
“HHhhhhrrrrmmmmmmmmhh………..” he grunts into it quietly, a rhythm, one push after the other. He is a warrior, barely stopping for breath, trying so hard to work with his body and the baby.
Bastian’s only view of him is from the back, his red hair already clinging to the tacky skin of his back in clumps and strands. He has already worked up a sweat, and when the candle flames flicker just right, Bastian can see beads of it roll down Leo’s thighs and ankles.
“Is he feverish?” Bastian asks the midwife, trying to keep his voice calm.
She has no reaction to his little slip-up. It’s likely she has already heard Bastian refer to Leo as ‘he’ or ‘him’. Never once has she inquired or judged. Bastian feels that she already knows, and does not care.
“No,” she tells him, “it is just effort. Birth is hard work.”
It certainly is. Bastian had no idea. He tries not to get stuck in his head feeling guilty for doing this to Leo, as he watches Leo labour and sweat.
Of his own accord, Leo lets go of the baseboard and resumes a squat on the floor. This time, though, he leans his back against the end of the bed and leans back on his bottom, pulling his shins wide open and back, causing his feet to lift off the floor.
He must be truly in the throes of it then, Bastian realizes, because he’s exposing himself completely to the room, to the midwife who stands near Bastian.
Nothing can be seen of the baby just yet. Leo grunts as he bears down, his belly hardening and pointing, but his opening remaining unchanged.
He grunts hard as he pushes now, very focused on some invisible spot in the room which he squints at, crunching up his face and baring his teeth. With every grunt, he pulls his shins open and points his crotch up to the ceiling, curling in.
Leo’s next grunt is louder and more guttural than the last, and Bastian has to take a step back. He looks at his knight, naked and red in the throes of labour, his legs crunched up on either side of his distended belly and his teeth bared in a horrible grimace, and he can’t resist thinking anymore, I did that to him.
Bastian gets stuck thinking this, just standing there as Leo throws his head back and shoves his shoulders down with another push.
It’s happening now, and there is nothing Bastian can do to stop it. Nothing he can do to ease the pain or help bring their child out. If he could just get a hand in there and pull the child out, he would. Hell, if he could push it out himself, he would suffer double the hours and pain of Leo’s labour if it meant Leo could just rest.
Leo’s next grunty release startles Bastian into action. He goes to his knight as Leo pants and pants, still holding his shins, his legs folded up so tightly his feet aren’t touching the floor. He just pants, exhausted, as the midwife whispers calming words: “Good, you are using all your effort now.”
“Leo,” says Bastian. His own voice is shaky and foreign to his ears. “You want to hold my hand?”
But Leo is already grunting down again, spreading his trembling legs just a bit wider as he manages a tight and grunty, “Icanh…….” He holds it, holds it, holds it, and Bastian looks down at his opening.
He’s a bit shy, but still he looks. Leo is spread so open it’s almost lewd. But this is childbirth, Bastian supposes, the truth of childbirth. Past Leo’s wiry red pubic hair, it seems there’s a bulge, like the head of their baby is knocking at the door. He’s not opening much, not from what Bastian can see, but as he holds down the pressure harder and longer, the bulge presses outwards, beginning to stretch his swollen tissues.
Leo startles Bastian by releasing with a “GNUUHHH!!” and the bulge dips right back in. Leo pants hard.
Bastian manages to get his bearings. He brushes Leo’s stringy hair off his forehead and says, “Breathe, sweetness… Slow down and breathe.”
Panting, but trying to slow his breaths down, Leo slowly lets go of his legs. They stay open, but floppy, his feet now on the floor.
The midwife saves Bastian from feeling useless by instructing him to sit on the end of the bed behind Leo. This way, he can help hold Leo up as he pushes.
He does, and first puts his hands under Leo’s arms before he realizes this is uncomfortable for Leo who needs to use his arms. Instead, he puts his hands the other other place they can go, covering Leo’s breasts from the midwife’s eye. His fingertips brush the hard top of Leo’s belly as he makes it to the end of another push, grunting tight and loud.
He’s working hard now. The candlelight is dim, but Bastian can see the big slope of Leo’s belly, how it crunches in with each long and loud grunt, and Leo’s wide open legs, his curled toes which lift off the floor.
Bastian leans down over Leo’s shoulder, hugging him and cupping his breasts tight, and now he can see Leo’s opening from this angle. He’s curled so tightly, he’s practically exposing himself to the ceiling while still tucking his chin down into his chest. There is not much to see yet, still, but Bastian swears as Leo grunts hard one more time that he can see his tissues beginning to bulge out.
“...ggrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrRUHH!” Leo grunts out, and his tissues and belly relax. “Fuck. Oh, no…” he whispers, and Bastian realizes he’s trembling.
Bastian thinks Leo is done, but the midwife comes to sit in front of Leo and speak to him.
“Do not fear,” she says. “You can go into it stronger than that, just let your body guide you.”
Leo gives one small push, but it does seem that he’s done.
Then a knock at the door startles Bastian and he looks over. Leo is so into it, so tired, he doesn’t seem to react.
The midwife holds up a hand and groans as she gets to her feet. She only opens the door a crack, and there are whispers.
Bastian tries to lean in to see, but he cannot. The midwife is standing between the room and whoever is at the door, blocking anything from sight. If she were to open the door all the way, surely Leo would be seen. The bed is up against the wall at the head of the small room, the door on the side wall. The foot of the bed is practically in front of the door with how small the room is. No doubt they can hear Leo panting.
Thinking quickly, Bastian grabs the bed linen behind him and drapes it over Leo’s naked body. His legs are still parted, but he’s put his feet on the floor.
Bastian presses his lips to the salty skin of Leo’s temple, soothing him and whispering comforting words to him, rocking him a bit.
“Doing so well, just breathe now,” he whispers, and Leo does.
“We heard a concerning noise and wanted to see that everything was alright,” one of the voices says at the door. It’s then that Bastian recognizes it and the other voice along with it as the brother and sister who own the tavern.
“I have someone labouring in here, but everything is just fine,” the midwife explains.
Still rocking Leo, kissing his forehead and cheek, Bastian trains his ears and hears one of them gasp. He can imagine their fearful expressions. He leans down further, kissing and nuzzling Leo’s cheek, smelling him, and Leo brings a hand up to bury in Bastian’s dark wispy hair, leaning his cheek into Bastian, nuzzling him back.
“We will get a doctor for you!” the brother says at the door.
Kindly, the midwife tells them to fuck off, which startles a laugh out of Bastian.
Then Leo’s breaths pick up, and Bastian can feel the top of his belly harden under his fingers. Feet planted and relaxed on the floor, Leo opens his legs more, holding his belly. He whispers, “‘scoming…”
And Bastian can’t find it in him to care any longer about the people at the door and their muted discourse. He rubs the skin of Leo’s chest, presses his lips into his cheekbone as Leo grabs his shins and his belly points down as he bears down hard.
“Strong,” Bastian whispers into his ear. “Push as hard as you can, Leo, c’mon.”
He grunts good and hard with it, tipping his face back this time so he can hear Bastian’s encouragement in his ear.
“Good, good, bring him out,” Bastian whispers.
The voices at the door insist on getting a doctor one more time, as the midwife tells them that the person labouring knows what to do, and that she herself has delivered hundreds of babies.
“GGGGGGHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRUUUUUHHHH……” Leo grunts deep and tight, his wide open legs trembling.
The midwife slams the door then and turns back into the room, giving Leo space.
Leo gives a few more hard pushes, each with a crackly and prolonged grunt. Every time he releases, all the tension drops out of his belly and legs, going a bit floppy, before he steels himself and shoves down again.
It’s obvious Leo is getting tired. As Leo rests, Bastian covers his eyes with a cold damp linen and keeps his hand there, kissing his cheekbone.
Bastian looks at the midwife as she goes around the room lighting incense from somewhere in her pack, and he asks her if everything is alright.
“Yes, everything is normal,” she assures him, her voice flat as if she’s bored, or maybe that is just how she talks. “Just be patient. It takes a lot of strength and time to push a baby out.”
Bastian flushes at the prospect that she would think for even a moment that what’s making him restless is impatience. He will hold Leo through every pain as long as it takes for him to get their child out. But he doesn’t correct the midwife.
This goes on until one of the shorter candles burns out, Leo going from being curled up against Bastian’s legs to leaning over the floor on his hands and knees.
Eventually, he gets on the bed, and Bastian knows his role by then. He sits with him, always close to him, whispering to his brave and strong knight, his love, to keep working and push,
and push,
and push…
Every release is dizzyingly loud and hard, speaking to the immense effort Leo is exerting each and every time.
“UUHHRRR!” he grunts out, the sound high and strained at first and ending very deep and guttural. Then he just pants, gripping the tops of his thighs as he sits on his heels, facing the headboard of the bed.
Sitting behind him on the bed, Bastian can do nothing but rub his hand up and down the back of Leo’s shoulder, and he feels the tension under his skin as he breathes hard and fast like an animal.
It sounds like Leo’s body commands him to push, as the urge catches him in-between breaths and he tenses with a very tight and grunty, “Hhuh–”
“Well done, Leo,” Bastian whispers, still holding his shoulder as he trembles severely, his skin reddening. Then, after at least twelve seconds, Leo releases with a very strained sound: “..........UHHH! Please…”
“You are amazing, Leo. Keep pushing if you have to.”
And Leo does, breathing into it and preparing himself at first. He brings his fingers down to feel, sighs out his air in an almost frustrated way, then readjusts by sitting up on his knees more, opening his legs as much as he can in that position.
Then, to Bastian’s surprise, he reaches back and flaps his hands until Bastian laces their fingers together. He sits up on his knees behind Leo, mimicking his pose, and Leo whispers the count of two to himself before he grips Bastian’s hands and shoves down with a hitch of breath.
Bastian can feel the effort in his own body as Leo leans his torso slightly forward and down, crunching down towards his belly but still kneeling upright and gripping Bastian’s hands with such force that Bastian winces.
He feels a bit stupid as all he can say is, “Oh, Leo.”
Then the inevitable release: “.............................UUUURRRHH!” A huge inhale. Then he just grunts horribly the whole time he pushes. “UUUUUUUUUURRRHHHHH!!” Another. “UUUUUUUUURRRRRHHHNNG!!” Hard and deep and powerful, each time bearing down with his entire body, raising his shoulders as he gasps and sending them down hard and fast with each gigantic push.
Across the room, the midwife has been busy replacing the candles again. She seems so unbothered by Leo’s noises while Bastian doesn’t know what to do with himself. He tries to absorb some of her calmness, tries to comfort Leo by kissing the backs of his shoulders. His skin is salty with sweat and so warm. His entire body is hard and shivering with the pain and effort.
Leo’s next release is a grunty scream, his hands clammy in Bastian’s. “GNAAOOOWWMYGOD—” Then, already pushing hard, so strained, “............got..g’ttagetitout……..uururrrrRUUUUHHHHGOD!!”
“You are strong enough,” the midwife says from across the room. “Visualise yourself opening for the head and push the babe down with all your effort.”
“Ngh…” Leo grunts, “...ngI’mtrying…”
“Push the babe down,” she says again, her words calm and slow. “Open, open.”
Her words seem to work for Leo, because he gives hard and silent pushes one after the other, raising his face this time and Bastian can just about see his horrible grimace.
“That’s good,” the midwife says, coming closer. “That’s good, that means the head will soon come. You’re pushing well.”
“I-I-I can’t breathe,” Leo pants. “I need a minute. I need…”
“Take a break,” the midwife permits. She comes with a damp cloth and leans over the side of the bed to wipe Leo’s face, petting away his stringy red hair as he pants and gasps loud and wild, his hands still intertwined with Bastian’s behind him.
“Breeeeeaaathe,” the midwife reminds him, then shows him how to inhale deeply through his nose.
Slowly, Leo’s body begins to relax, and he lets go of Bastian’s hands to lean forward on his elbows, moaning and swaying his hips side to side. Bastian gets a view of his bottom raised in the air, but he still can’t see their child’s head yet. If any of it was poking out while Leo was pushing, it sucked back in.
Instinctually, Bastian begins massaging up and down the long length of Leo’s back as he keeps breathing and moaning and swaying, opening his pelvis. Leo is so lost in his own world, but it seems like it feels good.
The next time Leo gets a pain, there’s no warning. It seems to catch him off guard too, as he’s still on his elbows with his head way down, his hands clasped on the sheets in front of his head. He just tenses his back, and Bastian can actually feel each individual muscle hidden beneath the skin as with a little hitched grunt, Leo bears down hard.
He leans his bottom back and down as he pushes, so Bastian can’t see his opening. Leo’s bottom is touching Bastian’s legs, as Bastian still kneels upright behind him, and Bastian can feel him tremble. He can see the exertion, because Leo’s skin from the back of his neck to his middle is turning a violent red, his head down and beginning to tremble so hard.
Then Leo releases with a loud grunt, and he raises his head to gasp in as the midwife kneels down over the side of the bed and puts her hands over his, still above his head.
Just as she whispers, “Huge push,” Leo shoves back again, trembling even harder, his body somehow stiffer and his back absolutely shining in the candlelight, the sweat pooling in the long dip of his spine and the dimples at the small of his back.
He gives a few very big pushes for this one, almost screaming out at the end of each one. He thumps the mattress with a fist as he breathes too fast, complaining of a burning sensation once more.
Then for the next pain, he gets himself upright again, but shuffles towards the headboard this time so he can grab onto it. He moves according to his body’s will, and ultimately comes up in a deep squat, still facing away from Bastian with his hands gripping the headboard hard.
The midwife tells Bastian to press on Leo’s hips as he bears down, so he makes himself useful and does just that. He sits on his heels, pressing his palms firmly, and rests his cheek on Leo’s slick shoulder blade as the pain comes yet again. Leo does not have much of a break anymore.
“—UUUURRRRRITHURTSSOBAAAAAAD…………..”
Leaning over his sweaty, rigid shoulder, Bastian can see Leo’s big belly flex inwards between his wide open trembling thighs, his bellybutton poking out. Leo is incredible.
Bastian whispers into his shoulder and neck, feeling himself grit his teeth and wince too, “It’s there, beauty. Push hard.”
One after the other, Leo rocks down to push hard and long, with big loud gasps in-between, filling his lungs so his belly expands before tightening inwards.
All the while, Bastian encourages him into his shoulder, moving to mutter into his sweaty red-hot cheek, pressing his lips to his skin, “Goodgoodgoodgood Leo, you are strong. You are incredible.”
Leo’s head is loose on his neck, either going back over Bastian’s shoulder with a push or crunching forward. This time, as he gears up for a very big push, Leo crunches his chin practically into his breasts, gripping the headboard so hard it creaks as he roars.
“Good, push your baby,” the midwife says. Then she tells Leo that when this pain has passed, he’ll have to move. “You need to open. In this position, you will push your baby into the bed and that won’t be very helpful.”
Leo, who is definitely not in the mood for jokes, tells the old woman to shove it up her ass.
She takes this with grace, though Bastian blushes and looks at her apologetically. Then she reaches out and tells Bastian how to help her move Leo.
The midwife suggests he squat on the floor, but Leo follows his body and comes to stand next to the bed, leaning over the mattress and dipping down and up as he breathes evenly, opening his legs wide.
There is an air of intensity in the room as everything seems to have kicked up a notch. It’s close, Bastian can sense it. Not much longer now. Soon, Leo will finally be able to rest. His beautiful, loyal, strong knight…
Bastian looks at Leo, his knight, his love, labouring hard, and he feels his throat tighten. Leo is the picture of effort. He’s bent down, his quivering legs spread open and his knees bent, his fists trembling with effort in the sheets. His teeth are bared, eyes squeezed shut into tight wrinkles as he grunts hard and high.
Bastian and the midwife, who is sitting on the floor behind Leo, both keep quiet as Leo works hard.
It bursts out of him with a deep, animal grunt. “MNGUUHHTHEHEADIS– SOBIG–”
“Keep going,” the midwife coaches. “If it gets to be too much, just breathe it down.”
There’s no way to know if Leo hears her, because he’s still pushing. God, it looks so hard. His face is beet red and shiny with sweat, his hair plastered over his skin in knots. He has an expression on his face that reminds Bastian of constipation, and he guesses the sensation is really not too different.
“That’s good, that’s good, I see hair,” the midwife says. Then as Leo bursts his air out and seems to bear down even harder, twisting his fists in the sheet with that horrible expression worsening on his face, she says, “Oh, lots of hair.”
Bastian is beside himself, his heart thumping out of his chest as he watches his love work harder than anyone.
The sounds and faces Leo makes would be embarrassing, but he is so beyond modesty, embarrassment, and privacy at this point. Nothing in the entire world matters more in this moment than pushing their baby out of him and into the world, and he puts every drop of effort he has into the task. Bastian wonders if he’s even aware of the expressions, sounds, and secretions his body is making. It wouldn’t matter. All that matters is that the midwife sees hair!!
Bastian jumps back into action, putting his hands over Leo’s which are still tangled in the sheets.
“Push, sweetness, you are almost there. You are so strong, so brave. You are my pride, my knight. I know you can do this. Push.”
Leo had gotten at least two good pushes in as Bastian was talking to him, and it seems he’s done now, truly spent for breath. He puts his red cheek on the bed and his gasps for air sound more like exhausted shouts, as he flinches and a tear drops from his tightly closed eyes.
“Where is he…” Leo croaks out, truly spent, as Bastian brushes his hair out of his face. Bastian leans down to kiss his cheek and forehead as Leo still keeps his cheek on the bed, panting and heaving and animalistic.
“Not long now,” the midwife says softly.
Leo heaves out his air, then he suddenly raises his head and makes a quiet pained sound, almost like panic.
“He’s–he’s– ohh-h, why is it going back in…”
Bastian puts his hand over Leo’s fist on the bed as the midwife explains, “The babe’s head has to rock in and out to stretch you. Just let your tissues relax, let your bottom relax. Every time you push, you bring the head out little by little.”
“Every time,” Leo repeats, like he doesn’t believe it. He’s exhausted, dazed, putting his head back on the bed with his eyes closed. He has the strength to hold Bastian’s hand, though, and that is enough.
“Reach down and feel the head next time,” the midwife says. “Feel how it comes down when you push.”
Leo seems afraid to touch, possibly for the same reason as Bastian. Touching the head, feeling it, means it’s really coming.
But, brave as always, he does. He keeps his head on the bed and puts his hand down there, feels around for a moment, before his eyes snap open and he looks at Bastian.
“Is it there?” Bastian asks him, and only then realizes there are tears in his eyes.
Leo nods. “He’s right there.” Then his face crumples in a grimace as he grits out, “Iwantitout—.....” before he gasps, shouting. “Hoh! Oh! OoohhhitBURNS! Is’toobigIcan’t……”
The midwife tells him to wait for the urge to push, to not force it out. She tries to tell him it’s important for him to stretch, but Leo is in it. It’s impossible for Bastian to tell now whether he has a pain or not. After feeling the head, he’s sure Leo is ready to keep pushing hard until the whole baby is out.
And so he dips into another vicious push, baring his teeth, his face turning completely red and the vein in his temple bulging out.
“---OH! Ouuhh..hohh…” and his body commands him to bear down extremely hard again, of its own accord. “Ouuhhhhhhhh……..hhhhhyesohyesohyesohyesouuuhhhhhh……..” Then he releases with a huge breath, panting hard and loud. Bastian can only put his hand over Leo’s which still grips the bed. Leo’s other hand is still between his legs, waiting and supporting as he pushes the baby’s big hard head into his own palm.
Chin on the edge of the bed, Leo begs, voice wrecked, “Pull’mout! Aoh, God!” And as the midwife is saying, “We can’t it is all you!” Leo shoves back, almost in a squat now, as he grabs the edge of the bed with both hands and extends his arms, his knees touching the outsides of his elbows, and roars down, his head trembling severely from the effort.
“Yeeeeesssssss, yesyesyes, exactly there!” the midwife cheers, the first big smile appearing on her face. In a strained voice, she coaches, “PUSH! PUUUUUSH!”
Leo garbles out a scream then, coming more upright and standing in a crouch over the bed, still gripping the sheets with so much force they rip. He’s pushing his bottom back towards the midwife, who has her hands supporting his opening, though Bastian cannot see. He only sees Leo’s beet-red screaming face, the tendon jutting out of his throat, and his bare breasts dangling down as he pushes so hard he gags with it.
All Bastian can say is, “It’s coming, Leo, you are almost done!”
Then with barely a breath, Leo forces down with his entire body, clinging to the torn sheet on the very edge of the bed, going down into more of a squat so the midwife has to scoot back more to see, as he strains deep and hard and guttural, gritting his teeth up to the ceiling.
“HHHRRRRRRRNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGG…..GH…GH..GH…………”
“Yesss, good work, you’re stretching,” the midwife says to him at the tail end of the push. Then, “Alright, let’s get you on the bed now. You, open those shutters! He is burning up.”
Belatedly, Bastian realizes she’s talking to him. His arms and legs are tingling and his head light as he leaps up from the bed and stumbles to the window across the room. Behind him, his love grunts again, so hard and tight and deep down in his core, and he hears the midwife telling him to just breathe, just breathe.
“I’mtryingI’mtryinghe’scomiiinnngggg….” Leo grunts as Bastian’s shaking hands finally get the latch on the shutters open. He flings them out and they bang against the outer wall. The sky is beginning to lighten; it’s almost early morning.
It’s a small window, but any window is large enough to let out all the sound in the room for the whole town to hear. He will worry about that later. Now, he needs to be with Leo.
It’s as he’s having those thoughts that Leo, behind him, starts to push again. It’s a hard and gritty sound, totally involuntary, and in the middle of it he says, “Mnggrrrrrrrrmyprince–.....”
And Bastian snaps into action, turning back into the room to run to his love. “I’mcomingI’mcoming, I’m here with you!”
He doesn’t even see where he’s going, just runs with the only goal of getting to Leo’s side. But the midwife jabs him in the side and he blinks down.
“You,” she says, “come look! Look at your baby’s head!”
Bastian does.
Leo is lying horizontally at the foot of the bed now, his legs spread open so wide his thighs are flat. He’s keeping them that way, gripping underneath his thighs. The midwife, in a gesture of kindness, has thrown the sheet over Leo’s breasts, though most of his belly is still exposed, a mountain of tight and sweat-slick skin. Between his thighs, nestled within his wiry red curls, is a wet dome.
The midwife had pulled a stool over the floor to her side, where she has a dish of butter balanced, some damp linens, and a holder with several candles. It’s this light that allows Bastian to properly see…
Leo’s opening is stretched to an almost impossible degree, unrecognizable to Bastian’s eyes. His folds are pulled back, the skin taut, to make room for not a sliver, but a wide circle of curly, wet hair. It’s a little wrinkly, and definitely not out to its full circumference, as Leo’s tissue is bulging out around it, proof that there is more within. But it’s there. A head! There’s a little indent in the shape of a circle at the tip of the scalp, from when Leo must have been stuck trying to push it past that stage.
Bastian feels a sob bubble up his throat as the midwife brings the candle closer and gently pulls on a little curl so he can see the colour.
Their baby has red hair.
My baby… Bastian thinks, awestruck and speechless. A whole person, half him and half Leo, the love of his life…
“Tell Leo what you see,” she says.
Bastian goes to Leo, kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed so he can lean over and brush Leo’s stringy hair off his forehead. “He has red hair,” he says, his voice damp with tears.
It’s after this moment that Leo goes quiet, drawing into himself and summoning the last bit of strength he needs. Bastian keeps quiet as Leo concentrates, breathing into the urge to push their baby to a crown. It’s coming. So soon.
The pain takes a long time to come, and Leo touches the baby’s head to embolden himself. It hasn’t gone back in this time. Bastian watches, and sees that it’s surprisingly squishy, likely mostly scalp and not skull. When he’s done feeling, the midwife takes a clump of butter and starts applying it to Leo’s tissue around the head. Then Leo’s belly hardens, and it’s finally time to push.
He means business right away. He hooks his elbows under his knees, lifts his torso off the bed to crunch in, and forces down with a hitched grunt.
Immediately, the head bulges forth, pushing at the tight barrier that is Leo’s tissue. It is not that he’s not strong enough; far from it, he’s pushing with every fibre of his being, turning completely red, veins poking out of his skin. It’s that his tissue is tight, keeping the baby’s head in place in a ring.
Bastian whispers to him to encourage him, holding him up beneath his back. “Push… push… push, it’s coming out more!”
It is! The head pushes and pushes, jutting out and back in just a bit as Leo’s strength wears out, taking his tissue with it, and then Leo grunts out hard and falls back to the bed. The head goes back to where it was, but just a fraction of it is more visible.
It goes on like this, Leo pulling his legs back and pushing pushing pushing with every ounce of his strength, the baby’s head bulging out and taking his tissues with it, and Bastian expects Leo to tear clean open, the head bursting out. But that doesn’t happen. It’s a slow, burning stretch, and Leo uses all of his strength. No stopping now.
“A crown!” the midwife cheers as Leo drops his head back to the flat mattress, straining and grunting, his grip under his thighs slipping due to the sweat pouring off of him.
The midwife is trying to help him stretch, using small linens on either side of his opening, gently stretching the tissue back and open. She regularly reapplies the butter, which is beginning to clump in their child’s curls.
Leo is indeed burning up, staying so red and sweaty, so Bastian wrings out a cold cloth and puts it over his eyes. Leo is just a grimace then, blind under the cloth, as he crunches his chin into his neck and reaches down to grab the bottoms of his feet.
He doesn’t put his feet together, but pulls them wide open and back, his arms extended out straight. His legs tremble so hard, his toes curling over his hands as he white-knuckles it, giving their baby a good long shove each time. The head stays at a crown, moulding around Leo’s tight tissue.
He doesn’t even grunt out at the end of each push. He’s too focused, pushing much too hard. Every release is a quick and quiet hiss of air through his teeth, “Tihh,” before he takes in a huge gasp right away and goes again.
Bastian begins to fear that Leo cannot get past this stage. He finds himself retreating into his own mind against his will, the sight of his love in such pain and effort so overwhelming.
He cannot be sure, but he thinks he can pinpoint the time they made love that resulted in this child.
They had been on the run by then, in their shared tent in the night, well off the beaten path. The fireflies had lit up the grasses outside their tent and, awestruck, they had pulled the flap aside to see.
Bastian had been staring at Leo, which he had not noticed he’d been doing. There was something about the fireflies’ light that made the strands of his red hair glow, like embers.
Bastian had been touching his hair, tucking it behind his ear, and Leo had leaned in to accept a kiss. Then Leo had climbed on top and Bastian had slipped inside. They rocked together, humming and sighing in bliss and freedom.
That’s right; It was the night they ran away together.
Leo’s beautiful red hair fans out on the sheet around his head as he falls back against the bed, still managing to hold on for their child, his eyes still covered by the cloth, his skin red as a beet and his teeth bared like an animal, trying so hard…
He’s pushing more frequently but not as strong, and his pains are slowing down.
Finally, Leo releases the last of his effort with a breathy grunt, and he tips his head back, gasping and gasping, his chest heaving under the sheet. Sweat rolls off of him in the candlelight.
He’s let go of his feet, but he leaves his legs to fan out wide open against the bed. His bottom is on the edge of the side of the bed. If he were to extend his legs, they would simply fall over the edge.
The midwife is telling Leo to breathe deeply, to get his strength back, that the head is almost out. She doesn’t seem too worried.
Leo talks to him then, his voice a ragged croak. He says his name, and Bastian looks down at him as Leo removes the cloth from his face, blinking weakly up at Bastian.
“I can’t…” he says, “I cannot do it… I’m sorry, my prince… I tried.. so hard…” He turns his head to the ceiling then, and a tear slides down his temple. “I am sorry for not having the strength…”
And Bastian has heard enough already. He gets close, finding Leo’s sweaty hand and gripping it fiercely.
“Leo,” he says, “of course you have the strength. He is right there, you said it yourself. It’s just a little more effort and you’re done, I promise. I will never, ever let you hurt like this again.”
“I thought I could do it…” Leo groans, looking away as another tear slides down. “I wanted to keep your baby safe—”
“Our baby,” Bastian corrects. Leo looks up at him silently, and he says it again. “Our baby.”
“Leo, listen,” he speaks quietly and intimately, his heart hammering out of his chest, “you could never disappoint me. You could never fail me. We are free, now. I will ask just two things of you now, and then never demand anything again, and that is to push…” He gulps, fixing his grip on Leo’s hand. “...and that you let me stay by your side. I love you, more than anything in this world.”
And there it is, that bravery and light returning to Leo’s beautiful eyes. He assesses Bastian’s face, really drinks him in, and his breaths become laboured.
It is all the motivation he needs to hear in his life.
With a heave of a breath, Leo grabs under his knees, pulling his legs so wide open he could split in half, and he throws his head all the way back against the sheet, hitching his shoulders down, hitching his belly and his hips and every last drop of strength inside him, to puuushhh their baby’s big head out.
Bastian sobs at the sight, seeing Leo’s effort and the way their baby’s head juts out. “Oh, push, my sweet love. Push with all of your strength. You have it.”
“Steady,” says the midwife, as she gently flexes the baby’s scalp as it comes forward. “Steady…”
Bastian is mute with awe. Leo pushes their baby’s head out so beautifully. Every second slows down to a hundred seconds. Their little redhead’s wrinkly scalp trembles out with Leo’s effort, and the midwife keeps pressure around Leo’s tissue which has the head in a vice lock. His skin is so red, stretched beyond belief, but he still has not torn.
Steady, steady, out comes a forehead, facing down to the mattress and slightly sideways. Bastian leans in to see, and it looks like a little old man with its wrinkles.
Leo is still keeping that same push going as then comes out the baby’s brow, then their little crunched eyes, and out pops a tiny nub of a nose. Bastian knows he’s crying loudly as, with massive effort, Leo pushes out the baby’s lips.
Here, Leo releases with a huge breathy grunt, unable to hold it any longer. Bastian is still watching their baby’s head, so he sees how it dips back in just slightly, not quite fully out yet. Leo must think he’s done because he’s panting.
“Come on, now,” the midwife says as she wipes some goo off the baby’s face, “one more push.”
Bastian steals a quick glance at Leo’s face as he’s gearing up for another push. Leo is in another world, his eyes closed and his head thrown back, exposing the long length of his throat. His skin is completely red and shining in the candlelight, his red hair thrown about the sheets around his head. Leo gasps in once, and Bastian looks back down at their baby’s head in time to see Leo’s hands on the undersides of his knees grip hard again, his nails white, and he makes a sound like, “HUP—”
“Big big big big…” the midwife mutters.
It takes little effort at all. Compared to the rest of the night, it is nothing. Leo holds down hard, his body and raised feet trembling and his pelvis slowly widening more, and their baby’s head trembles out, out, and out comes the chin with a squirt of blood and a huge burst of air from Leo.
It’s out! The whole head! Bastian sobs, not knowing what to do with his hands. He kisses Leo’s forehead, but Leo is still in another world.
His battle is not over yet.
Bastian has seen Leo in battle. He has seen him swing a sword with the strength of several men. He has seen him stumble back from a battle with arrows piercing his armour, seen him pull a dagger from his own flesh, seen him ride into the fray on his horse, head high in bravery, and he has seen him keep that fortitude after so many unspeakable horrors.
All of that is nothing, nothing compared to the strength and effort he exerts to give birth to their child.
Every fibre of his being, every single muscle in his body is used for those long, long moments it takes Leo to push their baby's shoulders from his body. He hardly makes a sound, but for a barely audible, tight groan deep in his throat that just keeps going. Bastian frantically looks from Leo’s face to their baby’s slimy head as his love just keeps that gigantic push going.
It is incredible to watch. It is the most intense moment of his life. A look back at Leo’s face shows that he is deep red and puffy, veins absolutely popping from his neck and temples like roots, but his expression is completely calm. His mouth is closed and curved in such a way that it’s almost like he’s smiling. His head is tipped back all the way, almost upside-down, and his shoulders are lowered as he concentrates every morsel of strength in his body down.
Down and deep, incredibly long and hard without break. Bastian watches as the midwife’s wrinkled hands don’t even touch the baby. His little wet head turns, and there is his little purple face already grimacing. Bastian can feel himself pushing, helping his love grunt down, as their baby’s chubby shoulders begin to appear, and the pouty lips open with a wet gasp, and then the baby slides and trembles out.
It’s not fast. Shoulders, then elbows, then belly and cord, and the baby is already crying and gasping wetly, then his little hips, and Leo is done, he can stop pushing now, but he’s still pushing. He still pushes harder and longer than he ever has and ever will in his life, his legs shaking horribly and his grunt getting louder behind his closed mouth, until the entire baby is out, little feet and all. Then a massive grunty burst of air rushes out of Leo and he lets go of all the tension in his body, and the baby hiccups and starts crying, and Bastian is sobbing.
Their baby is pink and slimy and wiggly and shrieking already as the midwife turns it over in her hands and puts it right on Leo’s deflated belly.
Leo uses the last of his strength to rip the loose sheet off his chest, still moaning and gasping loudly as water and blood pour out of him, his hands open to accept their child. It takes him long moments to come back into his body as he lays there gasping, his eyes half-open and darting around the ceiling, his legs still wide open.
Bastian can’t speak, he’s crying so hard. The midwife is rubbing the baby with her bare hands, trying to get it to keep crying, and it does, gurgling and spitting up some mucus onto Leo’s blood-streaked breast.
Looking at their baby, Bastian realizes how small it is. Now on the outside, in the world, it does not seem so gigantic. It is chunky, for sure, with big chubby purple cheeks and fat rolls on the arms and legs. The baby is swollen and bruised from birth, but Bastian drinks in every detail of their little face. Their little nostrils, their impossibly tiny fingernails, the curve of their ears stuck against their big coned head, their wisps of long, wet red hair!
He is all at once overwhelmed by the bone-deep urge to wrap his body around his baby and protect them with his life.
“You did it, you did it,” he hears himself sob as he brushes Leo’s hair back, kissing his damp forehead. “I love you so much, you did it. You can rest now, my darling.”
Finally, Leo looks down at the baby on his chest, hovering his hands over the elongated head and the little wrinkly back. In his euphoric state, he rubs the baby’s flesh, sighing and sobbing himself, and then he lifts their little chunky thigh.
His glassy eyes go wide, and he says, “Oh!”
“Oh?” Bastian’s throat tightens.
But Leo looks up at him in shock, and his bottom lip wiggles as he says, “A girl! We have a girl!”
Bastian sobs again, practically falling over his little family. Outside the door, he hears the voices of the tavern siblings cheering, and then some. He laughs.
“Bastian,” Leo says in his ear, “I love you too.”
And Bastian hugs him tighter, careful not to crush their baby, dropping kisses to her little head and kisses all over Leo’s sweaty face as Leo laughs.
The midwife is congratulating them, telling Leo he did a very good job. She’s doing something with their girl’s cord, checking for a pulse, possibly.
Leo cranes his neck up to see her. “What is your name?” he asks her.
The midwife smiles a toothless smile at him. “Yvette,” she says.
“Yvette,” Leo repeats, dropping his head back to the mattress and gazing down at their baby girl. “Yvette…”
And all at once, there she is. There they are, the three of them. Free.
As its mothers day in the UK, I couldn't let the day go without a story of someone becoming a mother. So here's one I saved up from a while ago from a roleplay I did with @allkindsofpreg. Hope you enjoy it.
---
Some people would call it… unconventional, but it’s just the way we are. My phone is streaming birth videos to the tv, one after another. You give a little grunt. I look over and you give me a weary smile. We started our video marathon four hours ago after the third hour of contractions, both of us confident that this was the real deal. We had watched countless babies being born and right at this moment you were sitting on a towel, your trousers and underwear discarded, your fingers rubbing tight little circles on your clit as we watched the mother pull her legs back. You pull your top up and expose your belly, the fabric scrunching up under your breasts. I lean over and wrap my arm over your shoulder, my other hand reaching down to follow the route of your fingers. Your head lolls back as you sigh, the contraction finally passing.
“They make it look so quick,” you grumble, leaning heavily against the headboard as another head crowns and pops free on the tv.
I chuckle and move my hand to cup your firm stomach. “Movie magic, love,” I assure you. “We can edit ours to look that way too if you want.” The idea of going back later and rewatching the birth of our child together sends a shiver of excitement through us both. “Could maybe speed things up though.” My hand moves up to brush your nipple and you arch into my touch.
With some assistance, you get your legs folded underneath your ass and get to your knees. I follow. Your belly presses into mine and you loop your arms around my neck. Our lips find each other and my other hand reaches between your legs, the long, lazy strokes causing you to pant and moan along with the woman on the screen.
You don’t pull away as your core begins to tighten, just move to rest your head on my shoulder. Your hips sway in time with my movements until you're practically riding my fingers. I can feel when you stiffen, and gently nudge you back into rhythm. “Keep it loose. Just relax and let the baby move down on its own.”
“So heavy,” you mumble against my skin, and my grip moves to lift your belly. The relief is instant, gravity no longer pulling constantly at the small of your back, and you pull tighter against me. “Thank you.” you hum in acknowledgement, but it’s soon drowned out by your string of curses as the contraction crests.
“Fuck, shit, ow, ow ow ow.” You sink lower and lean forward, hips widening and belly lowering to rest on the bed. From here it’s easy to see how much I'm enjoying this, and you almost laugh when my hard cock twitches in response to your panted breaths.
“Done?” I ask, eyes questioning as you straighten up with a smile.
“It’s only just beginning my love.” A particularly wild scream draws our attention back to the playlist and your hand instinctively searches your own opening as the woman struggles against a massive bulge. “Check me,” you plead, desperate for some sense of fullness as you wait to be where she is. My palm cups your pussy, and all you want to do in that moment is fill it with the head of our child.
I move to get behind you, as you shuffle your elbows forward and hitch up your ass to give me better access. “I’d better remember this position for next time, seems like a perfect height for my hips…”
You turn your head, blowing out a breath in turn as you grunt “don’t think about next time… right now I’m thinking this time”
“I know baby you’re doing really well” I say automatically in response, all the while my fingers were cupping your opening. You grunt an acknowledgement and prompt me with “you were checking” as I giggle “yes dear!”
You suck in your breath as you feel my fingers slip in and probe deeper, feeling around. “You’re… you’re doing very well baby.” My obvious skirting around the number and tone has you picking up on it. “How much?” You gasp, puffing out the breath you were holding.
I try and sound cheerful “you’re at 6, almost there” I say. We both know you were at 5cm 2 hours ago and hadn’t really progressed.
You grunted a ‘damn’ as you elbow walked back and with my help got you back upright.
I glanced over to the four cameras we had placed over the room to record things, all were still blinking their lights showing they were still recording.
“Do you need to do anything with those?” You ask, pushing your top back above your bump and rubbing circles against the skin.
“No, not yet, they can do 6 hours each on the cards. If needs be and we get to 5 hours I’ll make sure I swap them over before anything spicy happens”
We started recording when we set the movie marathon away 3 hours ago.
“So speaking of spicy” you say coyly… “it sounds like we need to get things moving.”
I smile and run my hands down the length of your thighs. “You just want me for my sperm,” I tease. We’d read that it could help soften the cervix, and you’re desperate for anything that might speed things up.
“Mm,” You hum unapologetically and crane your neck back to look at me. “Kind of how I got into this mess in the first place, yeah?”
I lean forward and capture your lips in a kiss, then gently lower you down so you’re lying down on the bed facing away from me. Grabbing a bunch of pillows to nest and wedge around your awkward aching body, we manage to get your belly supported and knee propped forward and up enough to give me adequate access from behind. I wrap my body around yours, kissing down your neck and shoulder as my hand caresses down your curves, inching lower and lower until it finds your clit. I start torturously slow, effectively distracting you through several more contractions.
“I’m close,” You warn, and I nip playfully at your skin to keep you from tumbling over the edge just yet even as my fingers move rougher, faster. You whine in protest when I stop, but the stimulation quickly reappears at your opening. I drag my stiff cock up and down between your folds and you're already so wet it doesn’t take much before I’m prodding, pushing, thrusting.
“Fuuuuuuck,” you moan as I bury myself deep inside you. Your ability to move is limited, so you’re at my mercy as I slide in and out, in and out, adjusting the angle slightly each time until I find the one that makes you gasp and shiver and beg, “Please. Please.”
“Please what?”
You can only whimper as your own fingers find your clit. Another contraction is building and you know I can feel it too as I struggle to hold back from release as your internal muscles clench and spasm around me. My pace quickens and my arm wraps around your belly, giving me a bit of leverage to hit just a little bit deeper and sending us both over the edge.
The pleasurable muscular contractions from the orgasm mingle with the painful ones from labour, heightening both sensations and causing you to cry out. You intertwine your fingers with the ones I have moulded to the curve of your stomach and pant harshly until the vice loosens. There’s a new persistent twinge in your back and your other arm is beginning to go numb.
“Maybe you should stand for a bit - help the baby move down some?” you manage, panting from the exertion all the while.
I give you help to get up, your “oooh” of appreciation towards letting you straighten your back echoing in my ears. We position ourselves face to face, your arms wrapped around my shoulders loosely and my hands holding either side of your bump as we begin to sway with each other, the next contraction building. We rest forehead to forehead as I whisper to you “keep it going you’re doing great”. You don’t respond straight away, focusing on the pain until it finally releases, and you blow out a breath. Then, with a grin, you tilt your head back and look me in the eye as you say “you’re running down my inner thigh.”
We both burst into giggles as I rub my knee up and down your inner leg, moving it side to side to separate your knees, sure enough I feel the wet sloppiness against my skin.
“Will just have to break your waters and wash it all away” I reply.
“Don’t you dare, this baby comes when this baby comes” you groan as the next contraction picks up. Just before you go inward and focus on the contraction you whisper “though I think it might come pretty soon.”
We dance around in circles for the duration of the contraction, my eyes checking back on the tv screen. The lady on there is squatting down pushing hard, not making a sound other than occasional grunts as she pushes. “Staying upright seems to work for her, perhaps we should give it a go.”
It’s harder than you expect to stay on your feet, the full weight of gravity adding to the strain and pressure in your back, hips and legs. But I'm always there to support you and the freedom to pace and sway and bend and squat is easily worth the effort.
You lean forward, pressing your palms into the edge of the dresser as another contraction begins to build. I come up behind and trace my fingers up your sides to cup your breasts. I give them a gentle massage and the pain ratchets up a few notches in response. It takes your breath away in a high pitched moan and your legs widen out of instinct, though it does little to alleviate the mounting pressure.
“It feels like I’m about to pop,” you manage to make out with a little bounce and sway, as if that might have any effect on your waters. “Come on, baby, I know you must be ready to come out.” The only response was a sharpening of pain that had you doubled completely over.
“Hey, remember the woman on the tv,” I whisper, a gentle suggestion.
You turn your head and again am faced with the mother in a deep squat struggling hard against her child’s large head. You nod, and I help lower you so that your ass is almost to the floor. Your knees flare out to the side, your hard stomach rounding out between them like a huge bowling ball. You ride out the rest of the contraction this way before returning your eyes to the screen.
“Pretty soon there will be a head between these legs,” you say, your hand reaching back to search for mine.
I find it and kiss your cheek. “Very soon, my love,” I assure you as I help you back to your feet.
You turn to look into my eyes - they are a mixture of excitement and adoration and lust. You take one of my hands and position it between your legs. “Here is where the head of the child we made together will be. My legs wide open for you, just like they were on the night of conception, skin bulging into a tight dome, hole burning and stretching, being born right into our own hands.” This is our idea of dirty talk and it mixes with the desperate whines of the birth video and my fingers once again dance and stroke between your folds.
You don’t want to move as the next contraction picks up, so you grab onto my shoulders as ripples of sensation flow through your body. I know you so well that I somehow bring you to the precipice once again and your body clenches at the same time the contraction peaks and there is such a massive release that your knees buckle and you would have certainly fallen to the ground if I didn’t catch you.
When you come down from the high after a few breaths, you notice that it’s not just my hand that’s wet, but your legs and the floor as well. “Either that was one hell of a squirt, or my water just broke.”
The splash you just released was audibly loud, but lost on you as you gasped at the same time. My ankles and feet were soaked, caught in the splash back but to my inexperienced eyes it certainly looked like your waters had broken. The next contraction came fast - much sooner than any previous ones leading up to it, and based on the howl you made, was certainly more noticeable. Your fingers clamped down on my arms, my biceps feeling like you were trying to rip them out of place. I grimaced as you continued to yell at the unexpected intensity. My hands found a way to either side of the small of your back and you fell into the embrace, your forehead burying into my chest as you screamed into it. Finally after the longest 30 seconds of your life you managed a sniffling gasp, the contraction over.
“That one was hard?” I enquired. You just nodded, eyes filled with tears. Finally you gave a shuddering sob and said that the waters being gone meant you felt the full weight of the baby, with no cushioning… and with gravity adding to it… it hurt, bad.
We agreed we would get you down onto your hands and knees on the bed and see how the next one felt. It took a few moments of clambering to get you repositioned but eventually you settled as you gave a warning “it’s starting again.”
Thankfully this contraction wasn’t as painful - not sure if it was simply because of the fact you knew what to expect or indeed not being upright did help, but you vocalised with loud moans and groans whilst rubbing your belly, your weight supported on one hand and your knees. I pulled your hair back and tied it into a ponytail as I kneeled next to you, one hand wrapped over your shoulder, the other on top of your hand rubbing the belly, and my lips kissing the side of your neck.
Shortly after the moans and groans subsided as the contraction let go. “That sounds like it helped?” I asked.
You nodded, still certainly feeling more and more pain compared to before your water broke. “I feel the head behind my pubic bone” you say, your voice shaky. “It’s moving down.”
“Ahh” I say, racking my brain to think of something we had watched in a preparing for birth video. “I saw something about putting your knees together and lowering your ass to the ground, that opens the pelvis.”
You nodded as you rested whilst you could. I looked at the clock in the room, muttering under my breath.
“What’s up?” You asked.
“Cameras need to be played with.” I said. “Can you believe we’ve been at this for 5 hours now?”
Your head turns toward me “Yes!” you yell, mentally recounting the aches, pains and orgasms you’ve experienced so far.
“Don’t go anywhere” I say as I scramble up to swap the cards and check on batteries for the cameras. The ones in three corners of the room were straightforward, but the one we mounted above the TV unit - intended to give a nice wide angle shot of the room and hopefully catch you pushing - needed to grab the steps from the corridor. As I set them up you ploughed your head into the pillows and groaned, yelling at me to hurry back, the next contraction building.
I fiddled and fumbled with the camera, pulling out one of the SD cards and dropping it in my haste to put the other one in and start recording again. I glance down and couldn’t see it, mentally noting that I’d have to look for it when everything was over.
Jumping down off the steps I rush back over to you and catch a glimpse of your pussy exposed on the bed. Where it had been smooth before it was now noticeably bulging - your gasping cry announcing “I felt a pop I think the head got past my pelvic bone.”
The contractions are relentless—long, intense waves that crash over you one right on top of the other. You couldn’t move from this position if you wanted to, and I support you the best I can but your whining moans are constant.
“Too fast. It’s too fast.” You keep repeating it over and over, as if your labouring body would pay any heed to your concerns. But an invisible force has hold of you, and it seems to be reaching up inside, clenching and squeezing a battering ram slowly but forcefully against a hole far too small for it to pass through.
“What can I do?”
You don’t have the mental strength to turn your head to look at me, but you can hear my concern in my voice. You give my hand a little squeeze to let me know you’re okay. “Hot compress, please.”
I check the bowl of water we had prepared earlier for just this situation. The water wasn’t quite as hot as it had been, but squeezing out the facecloth inside it still felt warm to my fingers. The cloth was warm and comforting on your aching pussy and you press back further into my palm. Perhaps it slowed the descent to a more bearable pace, or perhaps it was enough to give you some illusion of control over the primal roiling in your body; either way, you were able to come back to yourself and focus on your breathing, on my touch, on the incredible, if terribly painful, sensation of our child’s head moving through your hips.
It takes a good half hour for the contractions to begin to slow again, and once there’s actually enough space between them for you to rest, you sigh deeply and slump over onto your side.
Your face is red and damp and lined from being buried in the pillows for so long, but I'm there with a cool washcloth this time, placing it on your forehead and giving you an adoring smile.
“Well that was intense,” you say with a chuckle, reaching out to brush your fingers against my jaw.
I take your hand, twisting it to kiss your palm. “You’re doing amazing, mama.”
The word sends a thrill through you, and you reach around your belly to the space between your legs. You’re surprised at how different it feels, the soft mound of your lips domed out by a harder object trapped behind them. You try to slip a finger inside to see if you can touch the head, but the angle and your current physical limitations make that difficult.
“Can you feel it?” You ask, finally giving up your own efforts.
I give you a quick peck on the lips before sliding my fingers into the spaces you couldn’t reach and stop just shy of the base. “Oh, baby. Hi, baby,” I coo, and your eyes well up.
“You’re touching our baby right now?” I nod in response.
The next contraction begins to build and the force of it alone pushes my fingers a little further out. “Won’t be long before you do too. Feeling the urge to push yet?”
You were going to say no, but your body answers for you as it curls in on itself and you let out a strangled, surprised yelp and bear down into your first real push.
“I can’t help it” you gasp as you come up for air after the involuntary push. “My body just won’t refuse… I can’t NOT push.”
I scramble around to sit next to you and rub your back as you gasp and once more bend forward, gritting your teeth, scrunching up your face and putting in the effort. In between contractions I dash out to the bathroom and bring a dish with a washcloth, ring it out and lay it on your head.
I lean back and grab the tv remote, turning off out little movie marathon… looks like it’s time to make our own.
Another two pushes like that and you’re panting. Finally though it seem to have released you from its grip, giving you some respite.
You collapse back, breathing deeply, my eyes drawn to your heaving breasts, moving up and down with your laboured breathing.
“That hurts more than I could have imagined” you say to me, in between your breaths. “I need something to take my mind off it… something top drawer.”
I know exactly what you mean and jump up off the bed, scuttling around to your side. I slide open the bedside drawers and pull out your pink vibrator - your favourite.
I flick it on - the buzzing sound coming on announces that the batteries are charged - and get back into my position.
“Hurry, hurry… I’m pushing… I’m pushing!” You trail off the last syllable lost to an anguished moan. I turn the vibe to low and rest it on your clit. The effect is immediate. You jump at the added sensation and let out a howl. Thinking I have hurt you in some way I pull it away rapidly and you practically hiss at me “don’t you fucking dare take that away until I say so.”
I gently lower it back onto your bud and press lightly, your howl turning into a moan of pleasure. “Faster, the contraction is ramping” you say as you hold your breath and push, my finger rubbing the control button with an audible increase in the vibrations.
Your hand darts out to the side and grabs me, the other gripping the sheets. Your vice-like grip clamps down at the first part of me you grab, wrapped firmly around my cock which had been hardening since watching the show.
I gasp in surprise—and maybe a tiny bit of pain—and you force your hand to loosen, to stroke, to tease. The contraction still has you in its grip, but there’s an undertone of familiarity in this mutual pleasuring. It gives your mind something else to focus on even while your body moans and tenses and struggles and heaves.
When the pain begins to recede, you take over the operation of the vibrator and I scoot to the end of the bed. I hastily prop you up with a mound of pillows and position myself between your knees. Your ass is practically hanging off the bed as you wrap your legs around my hips, pulling me closer. I press my palms into the bed on either side of you and lean forward over your belly to give you a deep kiss before pressing my cock against your pussy.
There is no longer enough space in there for both me and the baby, but you're wet with arousal and birthing fluids and the vibrations from your toy send shocks of sensation through us both. I begin to slide slowly through the rift between your folds, coating the length of me. As the lubrication increases, so does my speed and intensity, desperate to maintain that delicious friction.
Another contraction begins and I pause, eyes a bit glazed and breathing heavily but nonetheless more concerned with your pain than my pleasure. You uncross your ankles to let your knees fall open and pull back on your thighs, tossing the vibrator to the side for the moment. You throw your head back and push hard, biting back a guttural groan at the intense pressure that comes with it.
While all your focus is on pushing, I can’t help but be mesmerized by the feel of the baby’s head bowing out your skin as you push. My hips are still flush with yours and it presses against my dick. After several more pushes the contraction dwindles and I pick up where I left off with renewed fervour. I'm practically on top of you when you jam the vibe back to its intended location, hips pumping and jerking furiously and releasing increasingly enthusiastic grunts.
I finish first, but immediately click up the vibration intensity up to the max as my mouth goes to your breast, licking and sucking and nipping until you come tumbling over the edge after me.
The nipple play brought on another contraction quicker than expected and you wail in surprise as your loosened muscles allow the head to surge forward quickly with the next push.
“Uhhhnghhh,” you moan, helpless against your body’s instincts. “Oh, oh, ngh!” You try to catch your breath, but your abdominal muscles won’t release. “Fuck, babe. Fuck. Fuck!” You’re almost panicked now, your knees reflexively trying to snap shut.
My firm but tender hands keep them in place as I remind you, “Slow, love. Gentle pushes now. Your body knows what it’s doing.”
If it did know, it wasn’t sharing that information with your brain, but you nod anyway. You let out an almost meditative hum, and the controlled release allows you to draw in a long deep breath.
“That’s my girl,” I say approvingly, giving your leg a little squeeze.
When it’s finally over, your eyes find mine and there’s a hint of excitement in them. “What is it?”
“I saw the head on that last push,” I reveal with a grin. Your hand automatically reaches out to feel but I shake my head. “It’s gone back in now, but it means you’re so close, babe.”
You pout and flop back into your nest of pillows. “I want to see too,” you whine, somewhat petulantly, and it gets a chuckle out of me.
“I thought you might feel that way, and I’ve got a bit of a surprise for you that I think might help.” I get up and rummage around in one of the dresser drawers, pulling out a small camera and flicking the tv on as I walk back to the bed. I position the lens right in front of your pussy and then flip the switch to turn it on. The tv suddenly lights up with a big screen projection of your bulging, gaping hole. “Now you can stand or squat or sit or be on hands and knees and you’ll still be able to see exactly what’s going on down there.”
“You’re… you’re recording this feed too, right?” You ask, transfixed as you open your legs wider and use your fingers to tug at the stretched skin to see if you can see anything in there.
I prop up a ring light and flip it on, adjusting it until it illuminated the area perfectly. “Of course.”
“Good,” You gasp, setting your eyes on the large screen,” because the next contraction is starting.”
You grunt as the contraction rapidly picks up, trying your hardest to focus on the screen and not close your eyes. In front of you is a crystal clear, 42 inch high definition image of your lower half, and you are suddenly in awe.
The picture is so clear, you see the rivulets of my previous load dripping down between your legs. I grab the washcloth and wipe the mess up, as you grunt and moan a hurried “get out the way” in between contractions.
As I whip away the cloth, we’re both taken aback by the large scale image of your slightly parting lips, and the white mass in between… you squeal, the revelation magical to you, and watch as the head slips back as the contraction fades away once more.
“That… that was something” you pant, trying to recover your breath. “But I need you to help me.”
I nod, giving you a kiss as I move to kneel down between your legs, as you rush to stop me.
“No!” You squeal when you realise I’m blocking the camera. In my haste I hadn’t realised.
“Get behind me… I need to…” and once more you pulled your legs back and held your breath, this time eyes closed in concentration.
I climb up onto the bed and squeeze in close behind you, scattering your pillow nest around the room as I get into place. I get onto my knees, and rock back onto my haunches as you flop back against me at the end of the push, your breathing ragged as you gasp for air.
My hands wrap around under your arms and rest cupping your breasts, where once more I start to massage the pronounced nubs, resulting in wet fingers as your milk starts to flow around them.
As the contraction rapidly builds, I look over your shoulder and stare at the screen, my eyes wide at the image. “Look, look baby… you’re doing it, you’re doing it.” I’m full of enthusiasm as I see more and more of the head peeking out, and finally your lips going from flesh coloured to puffy and red as they stretch to accommodate the mass behind them.
Your hands rush to instinctively cover your opening as you whine about the burning as you push but as you lower your fingers once more we see the results of your work - the teardrop shape of the head in place - the previous white skin back to a more satisfying pink colour visible between your lips as the pressure is finally released on the head and you get a moment of respite.
You use the precious time between contractions to catch your breath and massage your opening. It’s strange, exploring this intimate part of yourself that’s so familiar and yet, at the moment, entirely unrecognizable. It’s round and heavy and stinging, and there’s a patch of skin right at the centre that’s not your own.
“There’s our baby,” You sigh, resting your head back against my shoulder and stroking the small patch of exposed head with the pad of your finger. “Can’t wait to finally meet you.”
Your hand moves higher as another contraction starts, pressing into your clit as the skin beneath presses painfully outward. You push and the dome distends out impossibly far, but the crown remains stubbornly small. You don’t want to force anything before your body is ready (or, frankly, obstruct the view), so you stay this way, relaxed and removed from the pain, and let the reflexive force of your muscles do most of the work for the next few contractions. I help by keeping your knees pulled out and back as you groan and tense and hiss and shake, helping with the stretching in the quiet moments between.
There’s a much more circular, but still quite small, opening that our child is trying to force its way through when some primal desperation kicks in. Why is this taking so long? Why are you not opening up enough? What if the baby won’t fit? It already hurts so much, what if you can’t handle the rest of the birth?
You are anything but calm when the next contraction comes and your sudden panic - strangled whines and restless thrashing - takes me by surprise.
My eyes immediately go to the tv screen, but all seems just as it was to me. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
You can’t put it into words. You just grip my thighs in an iron fist and throw everything into a wild push. The head surges forward and you scream as your hole stretches violently wider in one quick motion.
“Whoa, easy, easy!” I scramble for a warm wet cloth and leaning over your shoulder, press firmly against the modest crown. You try to squirm away from the counterpressure - at that moment you want nothing more than for this to be over with as quickly as possible - but of course I'm pressed up against you from behind as well; there’s nowhere for you to go. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, and you’ve got this.”
You shake your head and attempt another monumental push, but this time I’m ready. In fact, I have to press so hard against your efforts than when the contraction is over and you finally stop pushing, the head goes most of the way back in and when I pull my hand away, you're back at a teardrop.
“No, no, NO!” You yell, taking me by surprise. I stroke your hair, telling you it will be ok but you just shake your head.
“It’s so hard… I just want to push it out but my lips won’t let it.” You’re frustrated, in pain, tired and getting a little too grumpy for your own peace of mind, so sigh, shaking your head and taking a deep breath, trying to get your focus back.
“You’re doing so well baby… just pant when it gets tight if you feel your pushes aren’t doing anything - let your body do some of the work.”
You nod, taking another glance at the tv as the contraction builds. Your eyes close and you mutter under your breath “come to mummy” as your lips bulge and your fingers trace circles around the tiny peak of skin between your legs.
I watch as the head bulges out again, your red, flared lips hugging it tightly. Once more you reach a peak of pain and start to yell as I remind you “pant, pant.”
You gasp, realising how much on autopilot you were acting and do just that, huffing giant gulps of air. The head stops retreating when you let go of the push.
“Baby’s on its way!” I cry out, you can’t help but have a giant grin on your face as the contraction finally releases you.
You’re fascinated by the way your pussy looks like this. There is still pain there—of course there is, with the amount of bulge there is right now—but there’s also hope, excitement, awe, maybe even a bit of arousal. You remember the promises I made when we were trying to conceive, promises to fill you up with a big baby and then watch as you struggle to push it out. And now you’re doing just that.
Another contraction starts and you begin to pant along with my coaching. The head pushes out further, but your hole doesn’t get any bigger. You hold your breath in an experimental push, but it just has you crying out and I suggest you go back to breathing and moaning and letting your body do the pushing.
You can’t disagree, but it’s so much more agonizingly slow this way. It’s probably another twenty minutes before there’s a noticeable size difference, and by then the pressure is unbearable.
“I have to push. I have to- I have to push!” You yell as the next contraction begins to build. It’s not a decision so much as a warning and your body trembles with tension and anticipation.
“Just wait until you absolutely can’t keep from pushing for another second.” Your breathing picks up to an unsustainable pace and your vocalizations reach new heights and your feet are off the bed, knees pulling back of their own accord in preparation. “Go for it babe,” I urge.
And you do. You give a mighty roar, but you're doing it. You swallow your fear of the pain and the chaos and you train your eyes on the taut round ‘O’ on the screen. At the slightly downward angle of the camera, you can see just how distended and round the head is behind your opening. With another push, it’s like you can see the whole outline of it and once again it doesn’t seem possible, but it is. I tell you over and over again that not only is it possible, but it’s happening.
It takes another few contractions of full on pushing when the animalistic part nearly takes over again. The slowly building fire is suddenly a full-on inferno between your legs and you slam back into me as if trying to retreat away from your own body, head thrown back in a silent scream and a few tears of pain falling down your cheeks as the fading contraction does nothing to douse the flames still raging on between your lips.
“It’s crowning now,” I tell you, since your eyes are closed.
“Mmhm,” You manage weakly, though when you look at the screen you find that it’s still not quite to a full crown. “Maybe… maybe I need a new position.”
“Do you want to squat, let gravity do a bit?” I ask, and you nod your head without uttering a word. Knowing that time is very much against us in between contractions, I lift you up under your shoulders, a difficult task as you’re unable to help pull yourself up from your position, but with a strong tug, and your legs scrabbling under you in their wide-open gait, we manage to get you upright.
The weight between your legs is immediately noticeable with the added effects of gravity causing you to yell as the next contraction picks up. Your hands grab onto my arms, the only thing keeping you upright right now, as your head pushes back into my shoulder, your roar loud and free of any inhibition.
I can no longer see any sign of the head glancing down between your breasts and belly so look frantically at the screen - your back arches back toward me as you push, trying desperately to move things along, but perhaps more importantly, that results in your crotch poking forward, still on display on the screen.
Your pussy is stretched tight, the head bulging out, the baby’s forehead starting to appear.
I think back to the videos, most of them showed the head shooting out soon after it crowned, but for you, it was moving with an agonising slowness, but it was moving. I’m sure with the next contraction it’ll get past the nose and ears, and surely that would mean there are no other protrusions keeping the head in place.
You scream in frustration as yet another contraction passes, you sag your weight against me. You’re panting heavily, exhausted at the effort.
“You’re doing great baby, almost there, maybe on the next push” is all I can offer by way of encouragement.
Nothing can compare to the fullness you feel. There is so much weight still pressing at your back, in your hips, and of course behind your opening. You can see it on the screen, the way your skin is drawn out taut and tight and so thin that you can see the ridges of the baby’s features just below the surface. The pressure built up behind is almost unbearable, and you’re panting desperately just to keep from pushing before it’s time, before your body is ready.
You moan when another contraction begins to take hold and I tighten my grip on you as your knees bend and you sink into a deeper squat.
“Mm, please come out, baby,” you beg, waiting for the urgency to build. “Hmmm. Oooooh. Ngh!”
The pressure peaks and you bear down hard with it. The dome bulges out comically far as your abdominal muscles war with your tight pussy. It retreats a bit when you release your breath, then pushes out again when you do.
“Do you want me to help ease the skin back?” I offer after another fruitless contraction.
You shake your head, determined to deliver the head without intervention. You stay in a deep squat this time, not risking losing any progress, and I settle onto my knees behind you—I’m more steady, plus the camera angle is better for both of us this way.
I nuzzle into your hair and kiss your neck. “You’re doing so well, baby.”
“I’m tired and it hurts,” You pout. I hum in sympathy, but my eyes never leave the screen and you can feel that I'm hard again. “At least you’re enjoying this part.”
I kiss you again. “You know what those sounds you’re making do to me. How hard you’re working and how beautifully you’re opening up. All for our baby. Can’t help it if I’m excited.”
You know you will be too, watching this back. But right now, another contraction slams into you and you tug your knees back as far as they’ll go. You're shaking with exertion, but finally there’s movement and you howl as your skin stretches over the nose. The movement stops when you release your push and I urge you to keep going.
“Baby’s almost here, you can do it! Pushpushpush!”
With considerable effort, you suck some air into your lungs and hold it there, putting your chin to your chest and heaving another massive push. A desperate high-pitched squeal escapes you as you cross the mouth and chin, but you manage to hold onto the push until finally…
“Head’s out! Oh my god, the head’s out. You did it, baby, I’m so proud of you.”
Fluids leak out around the head as I check for a cord. The baby turns in my hands just before another contraction picks up—now you just have to get through the shoulders.
You’re stunned, the feeling of the “pop” resonating around your entire being as you felt the head come free. You’re panting, waiting for the immediate urge to push to finish all the hard work and effort you had put in today, but your body wouldn’t let you.
You relax, waiting for the contraction to build. Taking a moment you reach down, whilst simultaneously looking at the view of the head resting between your legs. It looks so… calm, considering the effort leading up to it.
Your hand strokes the baby and you mutter under your breath “I can’t believe it”
You can’t keep your elation in check. All of the last few moments passed in only a heartbeat in real time but for you the moment lingered for what seems like minutes. You snap out of it when I land a kiss on your forehead and join your hands holding the baby.
Suddenly the peace is shattered as the next contraction builds. You push, effort renewed, you go deeply inward wanting things to be over, but the hoped for release doesn’t happen. You expected the shoulders to slip out.
Another push, once again no movement. You start to fret a little, you yell with the next push “come out!”
I’m started at the exclamation as I look down between your legs and we see the baby’s hand poking out from under its chin. The next word summarises the moment perfectly… “fuck!”
You give a mighty heave, and panic slightly when progress halts and the pain ratchets up unbearably. You scream, partially in frustration but also very much in agony, and I immediately drop to my knees for better access to what’s happening between your legs.
“Wait, stop, stop pushing!”
The urgency in my tone is the only thing that could give you pause in that moment, and you look down to see a small trickle of red down your leg and absorbing into the pad beneath your feet. You try panting to keep from pushing and squeeze my shoulder. “Did I- shit, did I tear?”
I’m quiet for a moment, my hands gently supporting your skin and holding the baby firmly in place. “No, no I don’t think so,” I finally say, giving you a bit of a nervous smile. “But you’ve gotta go really slow now to stretch around the arm and the shoulders.”
“Right. Slow.” You glance down at my awkward crouched position, and yours is not much better. “Maybe I should try lying down again.” That had certainly slowed down progress before.
Bracing yourself with one hand on the mattress, you lean down onto your hip, then fully onto your side, keeping your other knee flared out and open as I adjust to accommodate the baby’s head. You grab a pillow to support your belly. You shift restlessly when another contraction starts and pull your leg back towards you.
“Easy, controlled pushes now,” I remind you, giving the inside of your thigh an affectionate stroke. “You’ve got this.”
You nod, more to yourself than to me, and slowly contract your abdominal muscles. Your breath leaves in a low hum with the effort as your stomach squeezes and compresses. You can feel the pressure build up behind your opening, but much like before, nothing progresses further into the world.
Several more contractions later and you’re starting to get tired and discouraged. “I don’t care about tearing anymore, I just want this baby out,” you whine, close to tears.
I run my free hand up and down your shin comfortingly. “You don’t mean that. And besides, you’re doing great.” When I see you grab your knee and curl forward again, I say, “Alright, this is the one, I can feel it.” you have your eyes squeezed shut, but I lean forward to brush your cheek and point your chin toward the TV. “Just look at how beautiful you are, how amazing your body is.” You’re stretched so impossibly wide and the head is so big, it really is a miracle the delivery has gone as well as it has so far. “You were made for this; now just let it happen.”
With your eyes on the screen, you join your hand with mine under the baby’s head, and push.
Your grunt starts low in your chest and builds and builds as you apply more and more pressure between your legs. I lean to the side so the overhead camera gets a good view - as the hand and shoulder slide out from between your legs. You’re obviously aware of it as you let out a joyful whoop of success.
“Keep going baby” I offer as you once more grunt and heave. I adjust my arms to support the weight of the baby as its second shoulder slides out, then suddenly without warning, once all the things blocking it leaving were removed, the baby’s torso and legs shot out, taking both of us by surprise.
Your eyes shot wide open. “It’s over?” You gasped.
“We have our baby… a daughter” I smile as I lift the - surprisingly large - baby up between your legs and lay it on your chest. Tears are flowing freely from your eyes now, the sense of success and relief washing away all of the last few hours.
I take a glance around the room, all camera lights were still blinking. I give a thumbs up gesture to be captured for posterity as I get up and move to your shoulders to coo over the baby who is now crying up a storm.
“Can’t wait to see how the video comes out.” I grin.
There tends to be a lot of shame/embarrassment when it comes to having a kink or fetish, especially when it’s something you keep strictly secret in your real life (like I do 99.9% of the time).
You feel guilt whenever the occasional thought crosses you in your day-to-day, you feel like something’s wrong with you when it takes that certain something to get you off.
Being interested in pregnancy/birth has not always been simple or easy, but I appreciate communities like this one I’ve found on tumblr where I’m reminded there really are other people like me.
After the final guests leave, we're both exhausted and in need of some relaxation. You're overstimulated and wiped out even from just lying there, the babies' have been rowdy the whole time in response to the constant shower of hands feeling and rubbing your bump. Every guest wanted to feel them kicking, and they couldn't believe how tight and pressurized your boulder of a womb felt underneath the soft layer of fat enveloping it.
I carefully waddle you back to the bedroom, carefully arranging the pillows into a nest that will help support your immense weight. I peel your dress off you; it's completely soaked with sweat and milk. Towards the end of the baby shower, you got so full and engorged that you couldn't keep yourself from leaking right through the thin fabric, to your great embarrassment.
Together we heave your colossal brood ball up and into our bed. I rest my hands on your soft hips while you softly whimper, wriggling around in the pillows to try to get comfortable. I notice your breathing is heavy and ragged, the telltale sign of a baby's head being painfully jammed up into your ribs. I carefully press down on the top of your belly, feeling the outline of the nearly toddler-sized baby, gently encouraging it to reposition so you can breathe. You murmur in relief as you feel the head slide free of your ribs, no longer feeling like you have to fight for breath.
"Tell me where it hurts, baby." I whisper to you. "Pumps", you plead in reply. I set up the milking machine and suction the cups to your fat nipples. You groan with pleasure and relief as the milk starts to flow freely from your strained udders. Tears are trickling down your face from the overwhelming relief you're feeling.
"My feet, please", you whisper. I move down to the end of the bed and start gently massaging them. The excess fluid from your pregnancy gets trapped in your lower extremities by the turgid weight of your womb, and being upright for even a few minutes exacerbates the swelling and aching. Your poor feet are pink and puffy, bloated unrecognizably by the immense strain of your huge pregnancy. I start gently squeezing and rubbing your flattened arches, gradually making them return to a more normal shape and color.
This was literally meant to just be a quick one shot, but I've already started writing a follow up/part 2. So please let me know if you enjoy this and I might submit the next part!
Written by @pregnancyismykink :)
**
“I think we should start heading to the hospital now,” Jason suggests, cringing a little as his mate’s stomach contorts with a contraction.
Leo lets out a breath, dropping his head back to the couch, shaking his head. “The doctor said only when the contractions are a few minutes apart. It’s been 10 minutes since the last one.”
Leo stays still, his belly poking out from him, sitting low in his lap. The last few weeks have been rough, on both of them, and he’s just ready to get it over with.
Jason’s brows pinch together, concern written all over his face.
Leo huffs a breath, one hand under his heavy belly and the other reaching for Jason. “It’ll be ok. We’ve made it this far.”
Jason takes the outstretched hand, sitting on the couch next to Leo and kissing over his shoulder. “I know, I’m just worried.”
Leo huffs again, his brows pinching together as he tries to adjust himself, but then he settles, leaning into the offered kiss. “You’re always worried. We’ll be fine.”
***
Several hours later, Leo regrets his decisions. He’s still on the couch, but his back is aching something fierce and the heat pad isn’t helping anymore. His belly was tight, the stretch marks stark against his skin, and even Jason’s careful rubbing with lotion couldn’t help.
Another contraction hits him and he groans, clenching his fist into the throw pillow next to him, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain. Five minutes. It had been five minutes.
“Jason,” Leo breathes, trying to take some deep breaths. “It’s time to go.”
Jason, though he tries to hide it, deflates in relief. “Okay. Okay, the bags are in the car. Car seat is already there. Let me help you up.”
Leo just nods, both hands rubbing circles on the sides of his large belly. At least he already had comfortable clothes on. Gray sweatpants that had once been too big for him now fit him like a glove, and an oversized sweatshirt that barely hid the large swell of his middle.
Jason stepped closer, wrapping his hands under Leo’s armpits, and braced himself for Leo’s weight. Leo groaned as they shifted, all of the weight that had been sitting on his lap now pulling on his back, making him arch.
“Careful,” Jason murmured, kissing Leo’s creased forehead. He then wrapped an arm around Leo’s waist, and they made the slow walk to the front door. The stairs were a daunting task, and Leo wanted to cry when he took the first step and felt a sharp pain shoot down his back.
“It hurts. Fuck, it hurts.”
Jason frowned in sympathy, his hand rubbing small circles on Leo’s back, waiting patiently for Leo to start moving again.
“I’m here. Just take your time.”
Leo gripped the handrail, his knuckles white from the grip. He could feel his hips widening, could feel the massive bowling ball of his baby sitting already so low in his hips. Maybe they really should’ve left sooner.
He turned to Jason and nodded, bracing himself for the next few steps. He kept his hand on the handrail, his other in Jason’s as he stepped down, grunting with each step, until finally they were down, on solid ground.
“I can’t wait to be able to feel my body again,” Leo said, a hand under his belly and the other on his lower back. He waddled towards the car, smiling as Jason opened the door for him, and then took a deep breath before getting into the car, relieved to be sitting down again.
Jason, without asking, presses the lever to lean the seat back, making it at least a little bit more comfortable. Leo thanks him with a kiss, not refusing as Jason buckled him into the car.
He breathed slowly as he waited, rubbing smooth circles over his belly under his jacket, needing that skin contact.
“We’re going to meet you real soon,” he said softly, smiling down at his belly. 9 months and 2 weeks, already past his due date, Leo was ready.
The car started and Leo looked up, letting himself watch Jason as he pulled out of the driveway, his focus only on the road. He was always so careful, so perfect.
“I love you.”
Jason smiles, merging onto the road and then reaching over to press a hand on Leo’s belly. “I love you both. So much.”
Leo lets himself relax as much as he can.
***
The car ride ends up being one from hell. The hospital was already a good hour from the house, but now as Jason pulls to a halt on the interstate, Leo realizes they’re in trouble.
“What’s going on?”
Jason shakes his head, looking out the window. “I don’t know but traffic is backed up as far as I can see.”
Leo groans, another contraction hitting him and Jason leans back into the car, his face crumpled in worry. “I can try to turn around and take the back way, but it’ll add 30 minutes.”
Leo shudders as the contraction ends, his legs opening up a little. He feels cramped in the car, unable to spread out like he wants. “Too long,” is all he can manage as his stomach cramps again.
He white-knuckles the door handle, breathing softly through the pain before relaxing back, his eyes closing.
“You know, my brother was born in my parents car.” He meant it to lighten the mood, but Jason looked scared out of his mind.
Leo reached across the console, gripping Jason’s fumbling fingers. “Hey, it’s ok. People have been doing this for years without help. I got this.” At least, he really hoped he did.
***
*Wreck on the interstate, blocking exits all the way north. If you’re going to the hospital, your best bet is exit 148*
Jason grumbles, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel impatiently, watching the stand still of cars in front of him.
Leo gasps, lifting a foot to rest on the dashboard, spreading his legs as much as he could. The baby was coming any minute now.
“Jason,” he gasps out, his head falling back against the headrest. “Help me get my pants off.”
“Shit. Are you sure? Can’t you…I don’t know, hold it or something?”
Leo turned a glare at Jason and Jason sighed, unbuckling and putting the car in park. “You’re right. Stupid question.”
Jason reached across the console, lifting Leo’s sweatshirt up so he could see the waistband of the sweats digging into his hips. They were comfortable at home when he could lay down and relax, but cooped up in the car, they were digging in painfully.
“Okay, I got you,” Jason whispers, his fingers pulling on the waistband and down. Leo grabbed the overhead handle, carefully lifting his hips and the pants are suddenly gone, no longer squeezing him.
He signs in relief, kicking the pants the rest of the way off and putting his foot back up on the dashboard. “Thank you.”
Jason nods, brushing his fingers through Leo’s short curls, unable to do anything but watch as Leo breathed slowly.
Leo felt the cramp building, felt his belly tighten and he winced, closing his eyes and breathing through the pain, pushing a hand between his legs to feel his hole. The movement must’ve jostled something because he felt a pop and then a sudden rush of fluids past his fingers.
He opened his eyes, looking at his fingers. “Holy shit. My water just broke.”
“Shit,” echoed Jason. He reached back into the backseat for a towel they kept in the car, putting it under Leo as much as he could. “Do you want me to call 911?”
Leo shook his head. He’d always dreamed of having an unassisted birth, especially recently. He wanted to just have the intimacy of only him and Jason. But Jason had been too scared so he’d at least agreed to a hospital birth with a doula. But now it didn’t matter.
“No. I can do this. This is what I wanted anyway,” he says, putting his hand back between his legs and letting it sit there.
***
It took another 30 minutes for cars to start turning around. Cars blocked the sides of the road, blocked the passage for any other cars trying to get out, and soon the highway was a cluster fuck of cars trying to get out of the traffic. They were well and truly stuck now.
Leo groaned softly through another contraction, only seconds apart now, and he knew it wouldn’t be much longer. He could feel it.
“Do you need anything? Water?” Jason, bless his heart, was trying his best to be accommodating given the situation.
“Water,” Leo answered, his head falling back to the headrest again, adjusting his legs to open wider. His hips ached so much and he couldn’t do anything but lean the seat back a little more. He hadn’t exactly planned on giving birth on his back like this.
Jason passed the water bottle over and Leo took a few sips, sighing as the cool liquid cooled his throat. He had to stay hydrated.
“I need to get this jacket off,” he mumbled, shifting his hips a little to relieve the pressure. “Help me. Please.”
Jason obliged, reaching over and lifting the sweatshirt up over Leo’s swollen middle, then up and over his head, putting it in the backseat.
“You okay?”
Leo nodded, feeling better now that he wasn’t so smothered. The shirt he had on was loose enough to give him breathing room at least. He pulled it up over his belly, revealing his naked middle and sighed, rubbing a hand over the side of it.
“I don’t think I ever realized how big I was.”
Jason huffed a laugh, reaching across to put a hand on top of Leo’s. “You asked me every morning for months if I thought you looked like a beached whale.”
“Yeah, true,” Leo said, smiling softly. His hormones had been killer in his second trimester. Crying over the most mundane stuff, starting arguments over stupid shit, then going right back to crying. He felt bad for Jason for having to deal with it.
“It just looks bigger now. Especially cramped up in the car like this.” Another contraction starts up and he breaths through, keeping himself as calm as possible.
“Do you want to move into the back seat? You’ll at least have some more room.”
Leo looked in the back, seeing the bags and the car seat, and shook his head. “I don’t think I could get back there even if I wanted to.”
He traced one of the stretch marks on the side of his belly, seeing the stark red against his lighter skin. He didn’t hate them, but they were itchy most days. He’d learned the hard way that he needed to put lotion on before bed every night.
His belly contracted under his hand and he hissed, humming out a breath as slow as possible to keep himself calm. If he panicked, everything would go to shit.
“Jason,” Leo started, his fingers clenched in the seat. “I need you to check me. Like we practiced.”
Jason looked horrified.
“Hey, it’s ok,” Leo said softly, reaching across. “It won’t hurt. You can do this.”
Jason shook his head, running a hand through his already unruly hair. “You know, when we did that, I didn’t think I would actually have to…you know.”
Leo huffed, shifting his hips again at the pressure starting to build. “You’ve had your fingers up my ass hundreds of times. Why is this any different?”
Jason choked on a cough, giving Leo an exasperated glare. “This is different and you know it.”
Leo shook his head, unable to keep the smile from creeping up over his lips. “Not really. You’ll just go a little deeper this time.”
Jason laughed incredulously, turning back to the traffic and watching people wander around. The traffic was completely backed up, and there was no other option.
“Fine. But you owe me dinner later.”
Leo mustered up a grin. “Deal.”
Jason shifted, leaning across the seat and Leo braced himself, dropping a leg so Jason could see.
Jason, carefully, moved Leo’s small limp cock up and pressed two fingers into Leo’s hole, pushing up until he could find the cervix.
His eyes grew wide and Leo watched him pull back. “What is it?”
Jason wiped his hand off on the towel and shook his head. “You’re already at 10 centimeters.”
Leo looked at him in disbelief. “It’s only been a few hours. There’s no way.”
Jason nodded, shock and disbelief written on his face. “I know. The doctor said the first one could take several hours. I expected it to take longer.”
Leo groaned, leaning back against the seat. That explained why the pressure kept growing. And why he couldn’t find a comfortable position to be in.
Jason ran his fingers through Leo’s hair again, wiping away the sweat gathered on his forehead. “You got this. I trust you.”
Leo felt his heart swell, hearing Jason utter those words. He knew it of course, knew Jason trusted him. But hearing it, that was so much better.
“I can do this.”
***
He felt like he needed to poop. And like he needed to be in a different position. He couldn’t sit like this anymore.
“Jason, help me turn on my side.”
Jason didn’t even argue, holding onto Leo’s arm and pulling when Leo nodded. Leo groaned, his heavy belly shifting to the side and hitting the console. It was a tight fit, but it already felt a million times better as he lifted a leg to push against the dashboard.
In this position, he could reach his hole a little easier, and he pressed two fingers in, feeling anxious. If something went wrong…
“Hey, you’re ok. Just breathe.”
Leo blinked up at Jason and Jason smiled, brushing a hand over Leo’s forehead. “I know you as well as you know me. You’re worried, but you got this.”
Leo blinked back tears, still not used to being understood so well.
“I got this.”
Jason nodded, encouraging.
Leo felt the tightening in his middle, felt the band wrap around him and force down, his hips widening impossibly more.
“I need to push,” he gasps out, his hand fumbling for Jason’s. Jason finds him halfway and squeezes, holding his hand with one and rubbing his shoulder with the other.
Leo braced his leg against the dashboard, shifting the other under him as much as he could, and then gave an experimental push. Nothing happened and he breathed, still holding Jason’s hand tight.
With the next contraction, he pushed harder, baring down. This time, he felt his body responding, the bowling ball in his hips moving slowly through him. Slick leaked out of him, preparing the way and he groaned, letting go of the push.
“This may take a while.”
Jason huffed a laugh, squeezing Leo’s hand again. “We have a little while.”
Leo wanted to laugh at that, but he couldn’t. Not as another contraction came and he found himself grunting through another push.
“Hoooo mmmm,” he groaned, his stomach tightening. His thighs trembled with the force of his push, and as he reached 10 in his head he let go, feeling the massive head sitting lower now.
He reached back again, feeling his hole. It was still small, but as he pressed his fingers in further, he felt the top of his baby’s head.
“Holy shit.”
Jason saw what he was doing and smiled, putting a kiss on Leo’s forehead. “Feel them?”
Leo nods, leaving his fingers there as he pushes again, feeling himself stretch around it. Some more slick leaks out past his fingers and he grimaces.
“We’re gonna need to clean the car after this.”
Jason laughed softly, watching Leo labor. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll handle it.”
Leo adjusts again, bending one leg up under him as much as possible. He wanted to squat, to be on his hands and knees.
He moves to tell Jason exactly that but another contraction tightens his middle, making him groan. He waits this one out, too uncomfortable to push just yet.
As it passes, the pressure falling away, he asks Jason for help once more. Jason obliges and helps him up, getting his legs under him, facing the back of the car now, leaning down on the seat. His belly sinks low between his legs, but he feels like he can spread his legs a bit more, his hips craving the release.
The baby must feel the same way because another contraction comes and Leo holds the headrest as he pushes, squatting down low, feeling the baby shifting ever lower.
Slick squirts out of him, pushing out of his hole and Jason grabs another towel, pressing it against Leo’s hole.
Leo thanks him softly, relaxing back onto his heels. The pressure is back almost instantly and Leo grunts as he pushes hard, clenching his fingers into the fabric of the seat as he felt his hole beginning to stretch.
“Holy fuck,” he breathes as he lets up, resting his head on his arm.
Jason keeps the towel pressed against his hole, providing that gentle pressure Leo had taught him.
Leo just breathed for a few minutes, letting his body adjust, even if it was uncomfortable. His hips stretched, his lower back screaming at him, and his thighs ached, but he could do this. He was ready to meet his baby.
He gave himself three more seconds in his head before pushing again, shoving back against Jason’s hand. “Ngghh Ahh Ahh,” he gasped, feeling the burn of his hole finally stretching.
He let go of the push, feeling his baby inch back in. Jason cleaned him up a little, pulling the towel away to check Leo’s progress.
“I see them. They’re right there.”
Leo wished he could see, wanted to watch as his baby came out.
“Can you set up the camera? I want to watch it later.”
Jason did as asked, setting the phone up on the door so it was facing Leo. Leo turned his head a little so he could see.
His hole looked red and angry, stretching slightly. Slick leaked out at a steady stream, coating his hole and thighs, and he sighed.
As the next contraction came, he bore down on it, watching the camera the whole time, watching the way his hole spread ever so slowly around the heavy bulge there. His hole pushed out with it, the skin tighter and harder to stretch.
As he ran out of breath, he watched the bulge fall back, leaving just the top of the baby’s head peeking through.
“A head full of hair on that one,” Jason said, pressing a hand under Leo’s tiny cock and balls, moving it out of the way. Not even the brush of his hand there made Leo feel aroused. Before, when he’d entered his third trimester, it had only taken a brush of Jason’s hand or his tongue pressing against the tip to make him come.
Now though, he didn’t care. He just wanted to get his baby out safely and without issue.
“Keep your hand there,” Leo instructs, his voice scratchy but still lucid.
Jason nodded, keeping his hand pressed between the underside of Leo’s balls and the rim of Leo’s hole. To keep him from tearing.
His stomach tightened, pushing down again and he pushed, once again watching the camera. His hole stretched wider this time, the rim widening around the head of his baby.
He almost cried when he let go and the head fell right back again.
Several more times he pushed, watching the camera as his hole widened and shrunk, bulging and then shrinking. Even with Jason’s fingers pulling slightly on his rim, the stretch was slow going.
“It’s ok Leo. Just rest for a second,” Jason said softly, running his unoccupied hand over the small of Leo’s back.
Leo felt frustrated for sure, feeling like he’d made no progress at all. Even with the slick making the way easier, it was too tight.
“I need you to stretch me out,” Leo said, shifting his legs a little.
Jason frowned but did as asked, pulling the towel away so he could see Leo’s abused hole. Leo felt Jason’s fingers pressing on his rim and he groaned, taking a deep breath before pushing.
His eyes clenched shut, his body tensing as he pushed as hard as he could, feeling Jason’s fingers pushing in past the head and pulling a little to stretch his too tight rim.
He cries out when Jason pulls harder. The stretch burns terribly, feeling like it’ll tear any second.
“Stop, stop, it hurts.”
Jason’s fingers still immediately and Leo sags in relief.
“You okay?”
Leo nods, breathing heavily. This was harder than he’d expected. He’d watched videos of course, of other omegas posting their births online, and while none of them had been stuck in cars, they had all made it look so much easier than this. Had made it seem simple.
“I’m okay,” he breaths out. “I’m okay.”
His hole stretches as he breaths, gravity at least working with him now. The head of his baby sat so low, the top of its head peeking through his stretched hole. Jason spreads some slick around Leo’s rim, massaging the area.
Leo, tired and aching, pushes again. His hole stretches slowly over the large head of his baby, skin going white at the stretch. He watches it, watches himself stretch around his little miracle, and then he lets go, taking another deep breath.
“You’re doing so good, baby.”
Leo just groaned in answer, his stomach cramping harder. He pushes again and again, giving up on trying to watch the camera now. His hips throbbing, his baby still sitting right there. He pushes again, this time holding it longer, his fingers white knuckled around the shoulders of the seat.
“That’s it baby, I can see more of the head!” Jason’s voice is drowned out by the screams.
“AaaaaAAAHAAHHHH,” Leo cries out, everything hurting as his ass stretches impossibly further, the burn building more and more.
Jason presses down on his rim again, probing and pressing the skin around their baby’s head and Leo wants to cry.
The camera pulls his attention again and he can see the head bulging out of him, stuck now. At least it wasn’t falling back in when he stopped pushing.
He shifted, putting a hand between his legs to feel his baby’s head and he sobbed, feeling the thick hair matted with fluids and blood.
“That’s our baby,” he sobs, keeping his hand between his legs.
Jason nods, his own voice wet as he responds. “It is. That’s our baby.”
Leo can’t believe it, can’t believe how close he is to meeting his perfect little baby. With renewed vigor, he pushes again, baring down into his hand, feeling the head moving ever so slowly.
It still burns, his skin stretching tighter and tighter, but he breathes through the pain as he pauses, letting his body adjust before going again.
“That’s it, you’re doing so good,” Jason encourages, his hand behind Leo’s on the baby’s head. Leo grits his teeth, his toes curling as he pushes again, feeling the head emerging more and more.
“I see the forehead. One more big push and the head will be out. You can do it.”
Leo breathed, his chest heaving, but he counted to three, took a deep breath, and pushed harder than he had before.
The head stretches, pulls, bulges out of him more, more, more, and just as he’s about to give up, it pops past his rim and Leo gasps, his hips twitching at the sudden release of pressure.
“Oh my god,” he sobs, his hand still between his legs. He could feel the little nose, the ears, the head full of hair.
Jason laughs wetly, his eyes watering too as he reaches between Leo’s legs, checking the baby’s neck for the cord.
“God I love you so much,” Jason breathes.
Leo can’t stop crying, his chest heaving as he feels his child. “I want…let me catch…”
Jason nods, understanding despite the hiccuped words.
Leo adjusts himself one more time, reaching both hands between his legs now. He feels the head still hanging between his legs and grits his teeth as he pushes again.
The shoulders press up against his pained rim and he screams, the stretch more than the head had been.
“Mmmmm fuuuuck,” he groans on the end of his push, feeling the baby’s shoulders so close now.
“You’re almost there Leo. You’re so close,” Jason said, his hand on the small of Leo’s back.
Leo ignored him, adjusted his grip on his baby and pushed again, pulling at the same time. He groans, his rim stretches, and he gives one big push and pull, the baby coming out in a rush of fluids.
His whole body jerks at the release, slick and blood leaking out of him as he pulls his perfect, screaming little boy up to his chest.
“Oh my god,” he cried, his hands shaking as he took the towel from Jason, wrapping it over his new screaming baby boy.
Jason digs into the middle console for a knife, pinching off the cord with something and then cutting it, but Leo was too focused on the pink skinned infant in his hands.
“Jason, he’s perfect.”
Jason moved to see, his own larger hand coming up to cup their son’s head, a slight tremble in his fingers.
“He really, really is.” Jason was choked up, his words coming out raspy.
Leo wrapped the towel around their son, rubbing his back softly, soothing his cries until he falls quiet, content to lay against his papa’s chest.
“You did so good,” Jason said, kissing Leo’s forehead.
Leo grinned, his body still aching but he ignored it, too fascinated with their son to notice.
A horn sounded off to the side and then another one behind them, and Jason looked up to see traffic was finally moving again.
He wiped his face, getting back into his seat, and moved the car forward, heading for the hospital. Leo shifted enough to get rid of the soiled towel underneath him and turned around to sit in the seat, hissing at the pain in his ass. He didn’t care that it didn’t happen like he’d wanted it to, he was just glad his baby was here.
**
*Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you*
Jason’s voice rumbled through the room, the voices of their family and friends echoing the words as they sang to Leo and Jason’s son, Luke.
Two whole years had passed since that fateful day, and Leo still laughed about it every time he told the story. Jason had mentioned they should name him Carson but that idea was shot down immediately by everyone.
Luke clapped his chubby little hands, loving the attention as always. His mop of curls over his head looked too similar to Leo’s and he didn’t even want to think about all the trouble he’d had this morning trying to get them to lay down.
Jason blows out the candle, putting it on Luke’s tray.
“Dig in kiddo.”
Luke had no issues with that idea. He dug his fingers into the thick icing, bringing it to his mouth and laughing when everyone clapped.
Jason looked over, catching Leo’s eye and winked, licking some icing off his finger before coming over.
“It’s a good thing he really likes cake,” Jason said, sitting on the arm of the couch next to Leo and smiling as he dropped a hand to Leo’s once again swollen middle.
They’d decided a two year difference would be perfect, despite how much they both wanted more kids almost immediately after Luke was born. But they knew they needed to be smart about it, to spread it out so they didn’t have too many young kids to care for.
Leo grinned, watching his son throw cake onto the floor, Leo’s mom dutifully cleaning it up.
“He takes after me it seems,” Leo said fondly, leaning his head to rest on Jason’s side. Being pregnant and having a two year old wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but he still wouldn’t give it up for anything.
“How about giving him a brother to play with, hmm?”
Leo laughed softly, rubbing a hand over his belly, feeling a kick against his ribs. “Or a little sister he can dote on.”
Jason nods, his eyes bright as he drops a hand to Leo’s back, rubbing small circles there. “Either works. As long as they’re healthy and happy.”
Leo agrees. He’d wanted at least two more, maybe three if he was lucky.
He watched his mom take away the ruined cake, moving it to the table now to keep it away from the messy toddler. Luke didn’t fight it, too busy playing in the mess of icing in front of him and on his little belly.
“You get bath duty tonight,” Leo says, smiling softly.
Jason huffs a laugh, pinching Leo’s back softly. “I get bath duty every night.”
Leo laughed, rubbing his hand over the constant little kicks in his ribs. “I have to carry them for nine months. You can handle them for their nighttime routine.”
Jason sighs, moving his hand up to the back of Leo’s neck and squeezing lightly.
“You’re right, I can handle it.” Jason leans down a little, placing small kisses over Leo’s temple, cheek and forehead, making Leo chuckle.
“For now though, we should probably get our child before he really ruins our floors.”
Jason looks up just in time to see Luke throw a handful of icing across the room and groans, standing from his spot. “Maybe we should put him into sports.”
Leo laughs, watching Jason pick up their filthy child, both of their eyes bright as Jason tickled him, blowing raspberries on Luke’s little belly. Leo looked down lovingly at his stomach, the kicks finally subsiding.
He couldn’t wait to do it all again, and to build their family more and more.
This is a list of all of my current WIP's in no particular order, which is unfortunately very long. Please forgive me XD You can read all of them at the links provided, though remember these are in progress and not finished yet lol. As always, I'm open to suggestions or advice!
**
A continuation of Maybourne Manor, which you can find (Here)
WIP here
2. Raylene escapes her cell with nothing but a shirt and underwear, naked and trembling as she runs away from the people who would kill her if they knew what she did. She finds a portal, transporting herself to Waterside, a place of wonder and beauty. But the longer she stays, the more she realizes that the people of Waterside are not what they seem. Will the prophecy come true? Or will Waterside fall?
(lesbians, fpreg, rape, noncon, magic, fantasy)
WIP here
3. A rich lesbian couple looking for a surrogate put out an ad and end up creating a threesome, a very happy family
WIP here
4. An arranged marriage between a sassy, easily annoyed short prince and a massive brutish man from a different kingdom. An heir is required even if they hate each other
WIP here
5. A prince has a one night stand with his favorite, and personal knight leading to him getting pregnant and having to hide this from the entire kingdom as well as his mom
WIP here
6. A meet cute ABO story about two guys fucking like crazy, accidentally getting pregnant, and then going through life figuring it out as they go.
WIP here
7. Another ABO story but based in college where an omegas first heat is dangerous and painful. Omega goes into heat on campus and the alpha jock finds him and takes care of him. Omega gets pregnant from the experience, they get together after some angst, and that’s as far as I’ve gotten.
WIP here
8. A werewolf clan just going through life.
WIP here
9. A continuation of my Home Ec story, which can be found (Here)
WIP here
10. A group of 5 dudes buy a house together, have orgies, and one or two get pregnant and they have to navigate life together
WIP here
11. A continuation of the Alien Eggs story which can be found (Here)
WIP here (FINISHED)
12. A young plant shop owner has fun with some of the extra vegetables that don't sell in his shop.
WIP here
13. The king of a country is a werewolf but nobody knows except a select number of people, and his mate. Who he dotes on when everyone else gets death glares
WIP here
14. An ABO story where once you meet your alpha, you're automatically their property. This was supposed to be kinky but turned out kinda fluffy
WIP here
15. A bodyguard (in his 40's) gets assigned to a young woman. She was raped and is now pregnant and suffering from her rapist stalking her.
WIP here
16. Phoenix, FTM, gets surprising news at a party with his housemates. And then he has to learn how to deal with the changes that will continue to happen as he progresses in his pregnancy.
WIP here (FINISHED)
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