Wish there was a giant head bulging just behind my lips, my breathing as controlled as possible and gathered to aide in pushing. Letting my lips part ever so slightly, so a sliver of the head shows, then releasing the push as the contraction ends, the head slipping further back into my birth canal. Going on like that for at least an hour, stretching just a bit further with each contraction to let my cunt adjust and try not to tear. I cry out from the pressure and the burn as the head slides further through me, parting my hole into a teardrop shape around it. I blow out all my air as the contraction ends, wailing as the head sinks back, at the loss of progress, or what feels like it at least. At the next contraction, I push the hardest I have yet, and the head comes nearly to a full crown as I moan low and deep. The contraction ebbs for a moment, but I hold the push enough to keep the head from retreating again, keeping my breathing steady. As the next wave of pressure and pain rolls through me, I bear down with all my energy, moaning in what’s nearly a roar. The head crests into a full crown, bulging out of me to just above the eyebrows. The contraction ends, but the head is done retreating. I’m left in between waves still moaning, a ring of white-hot fire around the bulging mass of my baby’s head. One hand drifts downward to cup it, the other playing with one of my puffy nipples, my tit solid and engorged with milk, a large vein running across it on full display with the effort of birth. My downward hand traces around the head, feeling how stretched I am from the outside now as well as internally. At once, another contraction rips through me, ascending my spine starting from my tailbone. I cry out and push, goddamnit, straining with the effort, lips on fire. And then, finally, the head pops free with a huge gush of liquid.
The pain eases for now, and my focus shifts to my tits again, squeezing my teats to relieve some of the pressure of the weight of my milk. Small white beads form and then drip from my nipples, making my massive bump wet with milk, as well as the sweat I’ve worked up during my labor. A grunt escapes me as the baby moves, its body squirming within the tight confines of my birth canal in an effort to rotate for its big entrance into the world. A new contraction rips deep through my abdomen. I pull my legs back, moaning as I bear down with all my might, and the shoulders finally burst from my puffed-up cunt, the rest of the body shooting out of me with another wave of liquid.
I bring the baby to my chest, greeting her as she wails. She latches quickly, and I nurse her as I wait for the afterbirth to come, so we can both sleep shortly after. Cramps start again, a little less intense this time, and I sigh with relief, ready for this to be over. I push again, softer this time, knowing the placenta will come easier. But the sensation deepens, pressure running from my lower back around my still-taut abdomen. Another wave, stronger, rolls through, my stomach clenching hard as a rock as I cry out in pain and give in to my body’s demand to push. A huge weight shifts through me, pulling a low groan from me as intense pressure settles again deep in my pelvis. The wave eases for a moment and I take a shaky breath of realization. This is happening— another baby; a twin.
I toil through my second birth, pushing and grunting with contractions. The pain is worse this time, searing hot at the base of my spine and outward. The weight inside me inches down contraction by contraction, filling my birth canal once again as I moan low and long through the burning pain. Finally, my cunt starts to come to a bulge again. I reach under my huge belly, reaching two fingers into my hole as deep as I can to try and feel the second baby’s head, but it’s just out of reach. I roar out with the next surge, moaning and pushing hard with my fingers still hooked in my hole. The baby’s mass hits my fingers, and I cry out, realizing the source of the burning pain, why this birth has been more taxing than the last. The child is breech, I learn, from a tiny foot and bum pressed against the pads of my fingers.
I push like that for another half hour, crying out and grunting through contractions until the first foot and some of the baby’s bottom have opened me up again. The contractions are still coming, but pushing progress has stalled with the sheer size of the baby forcing its way out of me. Between waves of pressure, I manage to carefully pull myself to standing, my stance wide to accommodate the mass stretching my cunt open, hoping that gravity will help. It does. With the next contraction, I bear down hard, bending my knees and sinking into it. The first legs pops free, dangling out of me as I pant with exhaustion. The pain mounts again, my stomach spasming with the contraction. With a guttural scream, I push as hard as I can. The second leg shoots out of me, the rest of the lower body unfolding with it. I sob with the pain, the exhaustion, all of it. How can it not be over yet? My heavy stomach heaves with my cries, the baby’s dangling legs and body shaking in time with my labored breaths. There’s a jolt inside me as the baby moves, half-emerged, and I interrupt my own wails with a little shriek as it bends its knees, bringing its thighs to its belly. Its feet hit my own thigh as its legs kick forward and back to dangling. Then the pain returns, like fire dancing around my hole and throughout the underside of my tensed, solid belly and my low back. I gather my strength and PUSH, push with all my might and a high scream. The arms come forth with another huge rush of liquid. I keep pushing with the momentum, reaching down instinctually to catch this unexpected child as it finally barrels out of me, wailing and purple.
The afterbirths are much easier than the rest of the ordeal, each placenta beckoned forth with small pushes while the babes suckle, one on each teat at the same time.
I’m just glad it wasn’t three…. Maybe next time ;)
