A/N: This is a bit... heavier/darker than most of my previous works, but I got a bit intrigued by the thought of someone with control issues giving birth and wanting to do it all their way, but their body refusing to cooperate. There are also notions of the baby being unwanted, but I'm not going too much into detail on that - you can imagine what you want there, really. (Around 1.7k words)
You've always prided yourself on being in control. You love having control, and people appreciate when you take it, giving orders and making decisions. That's how you got to the point you are at in life. So, to lose control is horrifying to you, but for the past 9 months, you've had to watch your body change against your will. All because of one stupid night...
Sitting in your office, doubled over in pain as another contraction rolls through your womb, you refuse to bow to it any longer. You will be in control now. This baby is coming when you decide it's the place and the time and not a second before that! So even as your body screams at you to push, to move, to accept this, you fight. You stay in your seat, immerse yourself in your work to ignore the growing pains; to ignore the baby slowly but surely descending inside you, even as you refuse to push - your body is betraying you still.
You stay seated as the involuntary pushes your body forces out of you have the baby sit right behind you lower lips; not yet opening you up.
You stay seated, hands gripping the desk's edge tightly, as you fight to stay silent through your contractions as you seal another deal with a client on the phone.
You stay seated when the pain starts becoming mind-numbing as the baby's head starts spreading your hole until it can't go further with your clothes and the chair in the way.
You stay seated until you can be sure that no one else is still at the office, hours after your official end of the work-day. But you can't let anyone see you like this. Struggling to keep control over your own body. So you wait and wait until finally, everyone has clocked out, and you can start making your way to the parking lot as well.
The second you lever yourself to your feet, gravity and the newfound space force the baby downwards. Fire spreads through your groin, making you hiss against your will. Anger starts boiling in your chest. This is your choice! You're in control. You move a hand to the head protruding from your hole just slightly, your tight business trousers still doing a good enough job at caging it in. Then, with strength born of stubborn determination, you push against the head, forcing it back behind your lips. The excruciating pain feels like control.
Huffing, you manage to walk all the way to the elevator before another contraction hits, but you steadfastly ignore the urge to push, breathing heavily instead. The ride down takes forever it seems but eventually, you reach your car and can sit down, forcing your baby back in again. Victory. The seated position and the car seat underneath you keep the baby from moving again during the drive home, and your body seems to have gotten the message - finally - that you're the one controlling this experience as the contractions mellow again.
At home, you waddle into the kitchen to put down your work bag and grab something to drink. You're wondering how to do this the most efficient way. The tub or shower would be easiest to clean up, while the bedroom would be more comfortable... Not that you need comfort when this is all just a huge annoyance already. Bathroom it is then. You push away from the counter after downing the last sips of water and make your way to the stairs.
When you're barely halfway up, your belly seizes again. Harder this time, more insistent and painful than ever before. You double over, pushing without even realising that you've lost control of yourself almost completely. It burns again as the baby's head spreads you open, almost at a full crown in your by now rather soggy trousers. A scream - a mix of pain and frustration - tears itself from your throat as your legs bow slightly into a squat of their own accord. The hand that's not holding onto the banister, flies to your crotch again, feeling the baby's head right there. But this is not how you want this to go, so you brace yourself and start pushing the baby back in again. It's agony, but you will not let your body dictate your actions!
After that, you keep your steps as small as possible to not give your body any chance to force the baby's head down again. You enter the bathroom and rummage through your cabinets to find the oldest towels you have and won't miss. Placing them on the tub's edge, you start filling it with some warm water, hoping it'll help with the cleanup after. As the tub fills, you start taking off your blazer and button-down. Your bra follows and soon enough, you've only got your panties on. The tub is barely halfway full but that's enough, so you close the tap.
As you move to grab your phone that you've placed by the sink, you feel another contraction roll through you. Forcefully, you cross your legs even as your body pushes - though weakly since you're refusing to help by bearing down. This time, the contraction lasts longer than usually, and you start to wonder whether it'll ever stop again just before it begins to fade. Muttering to yourself, you grab your phone and waddle back to the tub.
Dropping your panties to the tiled floor, you carefully lift one leg to get into the tub. The water feels comfortably warm as you lower yourself down until you're seated again. With the baby having moved slightly, you feel extremely full like this, so you start shifting until you're leaning backwards against she side of the tub.
Good, now you can do this your way.
You wait for the next contraction - more or less patiently, you'd like this to be over sooner rather than later, there's more to do after all. Finally, the cramping starts again, and you get ready to push with the contraction. It's weaker than before, but that's probably to be expected after all the denial you put your body through. As pain laces through your belly, you push slightly - mostly to check how it feels. Unexpectedly, the baby stubbornly stays right where it is.
Frowning, you try to push harder, but the contraction is already over. You grumble and shift, hoping it will ease the stretch and help the baby move. One of your hands finds it way to your belly, running along the skin softly. Really, first the kid can't wait, and now, it's playing hide and seek, or what? But at least now, it isn't quite as painful as it was before...
You take that back not even fifteen minutes later. As if your body realised that you're now willing to work with it, the contractions started ramping up in frequency and intensity. The water has stopped being soothing minutes ago, but you're unable to move with the baby's head lodged firmly in your birth canal, barely spreading you open but low enough to force your legs apart. Your voice is beginning to sound hoarse as you scream with every push, willing the agony to be over.
This is not how you planned this.
This isn't supposed to happen like this, damn it!
The sound that leaves you as the head finally - finally - crowns is inhuman, guttural and so unlike you, you would probably be embarrassed if you weren't so busy. But you are busy. Very busy to keep pushing to escape the burning stretch of a full crown. But the contraction leaves you and uselessly pushing seems to do nothing but make the pain worse, so you stop. You're exhausted and done with the experience. Maybe you should have opted for a hospital delivery. Or at least admitted to being out of your depth and hired a doula or a midwife...
But it's too late to change your decisions now.
Another contraction sweeps through you, and you engage every muscle you could possibly have in your abdomen to get that baby out. The water around you is turning darker by the minute, amniotic fluid and blood and whatever else making it murky and dirty. Something that bothers you. A lot.
And suddenly, that's more important than delivering your baby. You need clean water. Now. No discussions, no delays. Even though the contraction is still going, you stop pushing and instead shift to reach the knob to open the drain. The water level sinks more and more until your sitting in an empty tub, shivering and wet. Quickly, you first close the drain again and then turn on the tap, warm water slowly spreading across your bottom, your thighs, your spread hole and then your belly until the water's surface sits just below your naked breasts.
Satisfied with the change, you lean back again. Hopefully, now this will all be better. More yours.
Your body decides to set you straight.
Without any time to react, your belly seizes, and you're pushing again, desperately and painfully. You try to stop, or at least, slow down, but it's no use. For the first time, you understand that this is it. This is happening the way your body demands, and you're just along for the ride - an unwilling victim of biology. With no way of escape and no say in the matter, you feel yourself stretch more and more until - with a quiet, mostly internal, pop - the baby's head slips out of you. Something like relief washes through you, but your body obviously isn't about to stop now. The contraction doesn't ebb away, instead, it seems to ramp up even more, and you're screaming as the shoulders force you open again.
At first, they don't manage to get out. It hurts, and you claw at the porcelain of the tub as the shoulders slowly twist inside you, dragging along abused flesh and overstimulated nerves. Then, one is released and the other quickly follows. You sob as the pressure lessens, the pain receding to a distant throb.
One last push, and you finally birth your baby into the 'not so clean anymore' water. On instinct, you reach out and carefully lift the body out of the water. Immediately, a loud sound - not quite a sob or cry but close enough - echoes around the room, and tears gather in your eyes.
You did it. You had your baby. Not the way you wanted, but right now, you don't even care anymore. Right now, you're just glad to hold the baby and be free of the pain again.
Hi, this is my first ever fic so I'm a bit nervous to share but I hope you enjoy it! : D
Warning: existential themes?
Word Count: 480 words
Plot: You and Fives meet in the afterlife!!!! <3
"Knock knock!"
Everything is blurry.
"Who's there?"
Your eyes are open, you can feel it.
"Kiss."
It's too bright.
"Kiss who?"
The world is materializing, colors and shapes.
"Kiss me!"
"Huh?"
You sat up, vision still bleary but Maker forbid you ever forget that ludicrous goatee. Your sight finally cleared but was just as soon clouded with tears. You weren't sure if it was the how-why-when's or the would-could-should-have's but your throat burned at the sight. Those amber eyes, taken too too soon; that foxy grin, never never meant to lower.
"Yeah, okay. That was bad! I know..."
That flirtatious, make you forget that you're dead kinda laugh.
"Alright, get a load of this one! Knock knock!"
And when you pressed a hand against him he didn't fade like some cruel cruel apparition. He only chuckled as you locked him in your arms to keep him there til the stars came down. Or had they already? Perhaps death persisted even after the universe died.
Head pressed to his chest, summery and soft. Is it permissible to be so full of life succeeding it?
With a sniffle your words came together.
"Who's there?"
"Heaven."
Heaven or not you were thankful for it.
"Heaven who?"
Whether this was a moment, a lifetime, an eternity you were thankful for it.
"Heaven seen you in awhile!"
Silky, delicate hands, supple like they never would, could have been in life, tilted your head up. You couldn't help the smile that scorched your face nor the tears that ignited your eyes.
"Kriff, Fives. I'm not sure I'll be able to handle eternity with you."
Maker, you could spend infinite eternities with him. You would spend infinite eternities with him even if only to hear him repeat the same stupid joke until the end of time. End of... death?
And Maker, that grin of his. That make you wanna cry kinda smile. You wished he could have shown it to Rex, Kix, Echo one last time! But the afterlife isn't the place for if-only's.
"Oh, cyare."
But where it usually meant oh cyare, another brother is dead, another battle lost, another day of this kriffing war, it was now oh cyare, you are here. When you're dead you feel no remorse that you died young, no remorse that you won't see the end of the war. As far as you knew, that war might still be waging on but you and Fives had done your parts. And until now you have never had a moment to just be together. Not be together, be together. Now you had eternity for it. Eternity.
Your hands tucked in his neat, knotted hair. Lips crushed irrevocably to his. This was eternity.
"Fives, tell me another one."
Heaven was in that crinkle of his eyes, the whimsical severity of his laugh.
"Not yet, cyare. I don't have enough for forever!"
"Good thing we have eternity for you to make more."
lying in bed, pleasantly tired and on the verge of falling asleep, when suddenly there's a shadow. you glance up, startling slightly, but can't see anything odd. You relax again and close your eyes.
then you jolt awake, minutes maybe hours later you're not sure, when the blanket is yanked away and something grabs your thighs, prying them apart. you want to scream but no sound leaves your throat as you stare at the creature kneeling between your spread legs.
it's nothing more than shadowy darkness, no real shape or features. Only it's eyes, a haunting red glowing in the darkness of the night are clearly visible, hypnotising in their supernatural beauty. you can't look away, even as you feel something cool slide along your thighs to your hot core. you can feel yourself starting to slick, dampening the fabric of your underwear. for some reason, you don't feel afraid - only oddly aroused.
as your underwear is pulled aside, you dare to glance down your body. black tentacle like shadows are curled around your legs from ankle to thigh. and one appendage is now running along your lower lips almost teasingly. you buck into the pleasurable sensation, but the thing holds you down. it makes you wetter.
and then you feel something enter you. it's cool and not much thicker than one of your own fingers, going in easy with how wet you are. then slowly it starts to thicken, stretching you until it feels almost like too much; you're riding right along the line between absolute bliss and uncomfortable fullness. it's intoxicating, and you can't help but buck into the slow and rather gentle thrusts the creature bestows on you. but that just seems to flip a switch as the motions become quicker until the creature is brutally slamming in before pulling almost all the way out again; you scream with it, a mix of pleasure and pain fuelling the fire in your stomach.
When something slides around your throat and squeezes, you're done. Gasping for air, you feel your orgasm crash over you, stealing your last shreds of sanity. Once you can feel your body again, you notice something else pressing against your quivering hole... And you realise, this isn't over, and you can't wait for the next orgasm this creature will bring you.
she's been trying to hide her pregnancy from everyone around her and for the past nine months, that has worked out well enough. some questions about her weight that she could wave off with little white lies about overindulging and her bad sweet tooth. Wearing oversized hoodies and jackets to hide her growing bump.
But now, her luck has run out. Her water broke while she'd sat at her desk at work, soaking her chair and pants. Luckily, she could explain that away with a spilled glass of water and some clumsiness, but now her womb keeps contracting, trying to expel the baby inside her. But she can't. She can't give birth here, surrounded by people who don't even know she's pregnant.
But as the head barrels against her cervix that slowly widens under the pressure, she realises that her time is running out. Trying to control her breathing, she contemplates what to do. She could go home; say she's feeling sick. Really, that's her only option. Concentrating on her computer to type out the mail to her boss, she almost loses control of her voice when her baby's head suddenly drops into her birth canal. Hurriedly, she sends the mail and then powers off the computer before grabbing her purse.
The moment she stands up, she realises that she might not make it home in time as gravity pulls her heavy load down even quicker, the painful stretch of her insides punching a low groan from her.
By the time she reaches her car, the head is resting just behind her lower lips, and she's breathing heavily. She needs to get home, but her body isn't on her side... She screams when she sits down, forcing the head back up with the shift of position, her pelvis tightening.
She can only pray for better traffic than she's used to.
A/N: So, this is a story requested by @unbirth1997 (Thanks for being my first request here on tumblr, btw).
It is different from my usual MO, as this contains unbirth aka the baby is birthed and then pushed back in. Also, I'd like to think of this as an alternate world with magical realism, just to have a possible explanation for everything that happens. Enjoy ;)
1.7k words
You didn't exactly plan getting pregnant, but now that you are, you enjoy it. You love it! It's like the best thing that ever happened to you. The weight of your belly, the way your breasts have swollen with milk, the way your hips have widened in preparation. You enjoy looking at yourself, and you enjoy the way people look at you when you go out. And of course, you love feeling your baby kick and move inside you. Sometimes, you spend hours just touching your belly to feel the reactions it gets from the child safely growing inside.
Actually, you love it so much that you've been dreading the end of it. The birth. Not because of the pain, no. But because it'll mean that you won't be pregnant any longer.
So, you try to make the most of the experience. You take photos, videos and even start journalling to remember every detail of the pregnancy. You check the internet forums for other moms who feel the same way, though most blogs and entries are mostly about how done everyone is after 9 months of carrying a baby. But then, you stumble across a different kind of forum. One where every single post speaks to you on an almost spiritual level. Posts about wanting to stay pregnant, wanting to keep the feelings and the bodily changes. You find entries describing how mothers tried to deny themselves, tried to stop nature, but eventually failed. And then, after days of reading, you find the post. The one that changes your world.
It's hidden and the user has been deactivated, but as soon as you read the first few lines, you immediately save it in a separate document. The person who posted it talks about permanent pregnancy. Of a way to trick nature. You're hooked. You research all the steps the person listed, the herbs to inhibit labour and the ones to take during. You will make sure that this is going to work! You gently caress your belly as you place the last of your orders.
"This is it baby... I just want to keep you safe inside, yeah? Mommy loves feeling you kick and move so much.", you whisper lovingly.
On the low table, you have the herbs and some sports drink to keep up your electrolytes and not get dehydrated accidentally. Additionally, you now have pillows upon pillows to lean back against and start pushing with your contractions. The pain sharpens as you feel your baby descend with every push, the burning of muscles being stretched that previously had no business doing so. After a while, your lower lips begin to feel even worse than your birth canal, and your soft groans turn into bitten-off screams.
Still, you do everything to prolong your pregnancy naturally; you don't walk much, you try to be as gentle with yourself as possible. But eventually, biology takes over, and you wake up to cramps and an oddly tight feeling in your belly and hips. Instinctively, you know that this is it. You're prepared, so you try to relax as your contractions become stronger and quicker. Your baby is moving more than usual as well, as if it knows that you're getting ready to birth it.
Around noon, your water breaks, relieving some of the pressure in your hips, but it also has your baby descend quicker than before. The kicking now becomes sharper as the buffering of the amniotic fluid is gone. After hours of labouring, the urge to push becomes impossible to ignore, so you make your way to the little nest you prepared in the living room.
"C'mon, baby, you need to get out, so I can work on keeping you inside longer...", you groan as the contraction tapers of for a few moments.
As the baby's head slowly begins to open you in a teardrop shape, you grab the first herb you need to chew on for a few minutes. It tastes bitter, but it doesn't matter much as the pain of an almost crowning head takes over your awareness for a while. After minutes of struggling, your baby's head finally pops out in a gush of fluids, and you spit out the herb to exchange it with the next one. You breath through the brief respite of the burning pain - now, it's just a throbbing kind of sharpness compared to the burn of a full crown. You still feel your baby's legs move in your canal, but it's surprisingly not too bad. But soon enough, your abdomen tightens again with another contraction, and you push again to get the shoulders past your opening.
"Yes, baby, like that. Just a bit more, c'mon.", you prompt, even though your baby can't understand you.
For a few moments, everything is quiet, only your laboured breathing disrupts the peace. The baby stays quiet too, but you can see its chest rising and falling shallowly, and you know that it's supposed to be like that thanks to the herbs you chewed on. With one trembling hand, you reach out to trace your baby's face while the other reaches for the last herb you need to take. It tastes odd, not exactly bad but not good either. But it does make the soreness disappear quickly until you feel almost euphoric. This is it. Now you can get on with making yourself pregnant again and for as long as you want to be.
The leaves in your mouth begin to grow spicy, your tongue burning slightly as if you ate some hot sauce or something similar. It slowly travels down your throat and into your belly, warming you from the inside out. It eases some of the discomfort.
The shoulders are stubborn, it takes you a while to get the first one out with a shout. The other one stays stuck for three or four more pushes before your baby slips out of you up to the waist. You shift your hips, lifting them off the blanket your seated on and with a last strong push, you force the whole body out of you.
Still chewing, you take hold of your baby's legs and carefully shift to press its feet to your hole again. Distinctly, you know this should be painful and possibly feel wrong, but all you can really think about is how great the pregnancy was. When the feet slip back in, you gasp in surprise before giggling softly. You feel them move inside you, trying to kick but being squeezed tightly by your walls. Readjusting your grip, you ease the calves back inside yourself until you feel the feet poking your womb again. Thanks to the herbs, it's still fully dilated and with some gentle prodding, the feet slip inside again. You groan softly as your child kicks you again, harder this time, but you push more of the baby inside while moving your hips forward to quicken the process. Your previously slightly deflated belly grows rounder again, and the image alone has you grinning widely.
You can do this. Just a little bit more, and you'll have all you ever wanted.
The arms are a bit tricky since you don't want to hurt your baby, but after some struggling and more kicks to your womb, you simply ball them into fists and press them to your hole. It takes a bit until you stretch around the added girth but then, with a soft pop, the hands slip inside you as well. The shoulders are almost easy after that, though there's some tightness again now that has you groaning softly.
Before you do the last stretch to get the head back inside you as well, you take a short break and spit out the leaves in your mouth. After you get the baby back into your womb completely, you need to drink and then just wait with your hips elevated slightly to keep the baby in.
"Okay, baby, let's get you back inside, okay? You love it inside there, too, right?"
"Bye, bye, little one. I'll see you again in nine months.", you whisper down at your child.
It kicks you again, but you take it as agreement. The baby wiggles slightly, turning a bit before stilling again. Grabbing the head gently, you press against it and feel the baby slowly move further inside you. Your hole stretches around the chin first and then, with almost herculean effort, you force the rest of the head into you as well.
A startled shout rips itself from your throat, though it didn't even hurt, but the sudden fullness is a lot to take after everything. But you're not done yet, you still need to get the head behind your cervix as well. The baby wiggles inside you, pressing against your walls and kicking at your womb again. It's probably confused about being back in a tight space, but it's not trying to get back out.
Shifting to get a better angle, you grab the lube you placed on the table and slick up your hand and wrist. You've never tried something like this before, but since you just had a whole baby, a hand shouldn't really be a problem.
Then, taking a deep breath, you carefully insert two fingers to see how tight you are. Unsurprisingly, you can almost immediately add two more, spreading them slightly to test. It pulls slightly, but you're getting impatient, so you press your thumb inside as well. Since the head is resting just behind your hole, you fingers press against it uncomfortably, so you shift and then start pushing the head further up your birth canal.
Really, you have no idea how long you keep doing it until you feel the head slip through your cervix again. You're bend around your now round and full belly awkwardly to reach your hole, but the second the head stops touching your fingers, you feel whole again.
"You make me so happy, baby.", you whisper to your belly, "We'll be so happy like this."
Moaning softly, you flop backwards, hand getting dragged out of yourself by the movement. Jerkily, you manage to place some pillows below your hips to angle them upwards before you just breath for a few moments. Then you grab your drink and swallow down half of it in just a few gulps. It feels refreshing and close your eyes to just bask in the moment. You're still pregnant. You'll stay pregnant now... You did it!
One of your hands slowly moves to your belly and caresses the swell of it. Still full, still round, still pregnant. And until you decide to change that, it'll stay that way. The baby kicks once more before settling down, obviously content with where it is.
A/N: I had this dream last night (which is kinda unusual since I'm not generally someone who remembers dreams that aren't nightmares), so I decided to share it. I did improve some things/change stuff that I started forgetting after waking up, but I actually dreamed it like a movie/story, so most of this really did go down in my brain. Just for some more input because I'm a story-teller at heart: there is magic in this, but it's still a more medieval setting. Magical realism you could call it, I guess.
So, have fun with this ;)
1.1k words
I was a young woman in a medieval-ish, magical world about to be married off by my father to gain more power. But I'd already fallen in love (and into bed) with one of his closest advisors, and we were planning to run away together before I got married. The thing that threw a wrench into our plan was the fact that I ended up pregnant. Luckily, I didn't show much, so I could hide it from my father and everyone else; only my lover knew and promised to get me out as soon as possible.
Unfortunately, my father seemed to have become suspicious of us as he sent my lover on a mission that lasted months. When he finally returned, I was almost nine months pregnant and about to give birth any moment. We needed to escape and soon. But first, my father had prepared for me to meet my soon-to-be husband at least once before the wedding (though it was more so that the guy could check out the 'wares' he was being offered).
The morning of the day of the meeting, my water broke. I sent my lover a message that we needed to leave tonight and steeled myself to keep the baby in until we were safe. Luckily, my body seemed to agree, and the contractions were mellow and rather far apart for the next few hours. But as I was called into the tea room to be shown off to my soon-to-be husband, the worry and stress took their toll.
I could feel my cervix widening ever more as I stood by the fireplace to be talked about, get praised in a way my father had never done before and feel the stranger's eyes roam across my body lustfully. I wanted to leave, but I couldn't unless I wanted to be punished. So, I stood silently, keeping my legs together tightly, and imagining my bright future away from this house.
Finally, I was sent off again, so the men could discuss the last details of the marriage deal. I made my way towards my room but had to stop every few steps to lean forward and breath through contraction after contraction. I forcefully kept from pushing, but gravity and my body's natural instincts weren't helping. The baby kept descending.
I reached my room and closed the door, awkwardly waddling to the bathroom, taking the little magic device with me. I needed to contact my friend who was supposed to help me deliver my child. She immediately answered, worry colouring her voice. I explained the situation, and she promised me that everything was going well, to just relax and not force myself to do anything. Since she couldn't see me, I allowed myself to frown at the ludicrous idea. Still, I agreed.
I laid down and managed to get out of lunch and dinner by claiming to feel ill. Father came by and told me sternly not to mess up the deal he'd made. I smiled weakly, balled my hands into fists underneath the duvet as another contraction rolled through me and nodded in agreement. And then night fell, and I could count down the hours until my lover would come to take me away.
But before it was even midnight, I realised that the baby wasn't going to wait that long. I was coming, and it was coming now. Quietly, I heaved myself out of bed and walked to the wardrobe. I had hidden away some pillows, blankets, and towels there. Also, some herbs my friend gave me to help with the pain and soreness. Worrying my bottom lip, I arranged everything in front of the fireplace in my room, the dying embers casting a weak light and little heat. Then, I lowered myself to my knees, hands on the chair that was usually placed in front of the fire.
I knew what to do, my friend and I had gone over this a few times in case of an emergency. With shaky hands, I reached underneath my night gown - I'd forgone underwear in anticipation of this - and inserted a finger to see how far my child had descended.
Almost immediately, my finger touched the hard yet soft and slick form of my baby's head. It was right there, about to be born. Sighing, I removed my finger, wiped it on a towel and then shifted slightly. I parted my legs more and leant onto the chair more. Like that, I waited for the next contraction. When it came, I pushed with it for the first time today. Almost immediately, I felt that it was different from denying myself; the baby moved quicker, beginning to spread my hole. Surprisingly, it barely burned, possibly the adrenaline and fear of getting caught dulling the pain. But I'd take that if it meant, I could limit the chance of being discovered.
Again and again, I pushed with my contractions, one hand placed on the baby's head as it crowned. It hurt, but I bit my lip and merely groaned lowly. And then, the head popped out, and I sighed in relief. Caressing the slick hair on my baby's head, I shifted my hips a bit to relieve the growing pressure as the shoulders began to press against my hole more insistently. With the following contraction, I pushed again and didn't stop even as it tapered off. The shoulders spread me painfully wide, and I had to bite down on a pillow to muffle my groans and moans. But finally, the first shoulder slipped out, quickly followed by the other one.
And then, my baby slipped out of me, pulled onto the mess of blankets and towels beneath me by gravity.
For a few moments, all I could so was pant. Then I reached down and picked the squirming babe up, placed it on my chest, uncaring of the blood and fluids ruining the night gown. The baby began mewling softly, but I quickly mumbled a little spell to keep it's voice hidden from others' ears.
Slowly, I sat down with my baby on my chest, waiting patiently for the afterbirth to come out. Then, I grabbed the leaves and started chewing while slowly going about separating the baby from the afterbirth and cleaning us both up. I swaddled it up in soft blankets and got dressed in more practical escape clothes myself. Then, we settled down and waited.
When my lover appeared in the room through a portal, his eyes practically bulged out of his head before they began to water as he took in the small form of our child cradled in my arms. He engulfed us in his arms, whispering apologies for not having been there and praise for us to have done it.
And then we started off into our new life to live a happy ever after.
Maybe she shouldn't have gone on this walk. But she'd felt so caged in, 9 months pregnant and slowly but surely going insane stuck at home now that her maternity leave had started a few days ago. And the baby had shown no signs of wanting to come out, so a walk had sounded like a really nice way to spend the afternoon. Maybe even start to move things along since she was kinda ready for this pregnancy to end. No more aching back, no more panting after getting up from the couch, no more big belly accidentally knocking into corners or pushing stuff over.
Now, clinging to a tree trunk and trying not to scream as her child barrels into her birth canal, she regrets this decision. She hadn't even taken her phone with her, only wanting to be gone for half an hour at the most! And despite the nice weather she hasn't seen a single soul out who she could beg for help.
"Shit!", she hisses as another contraction ripples through her womb.
At least her water hasn't bro-
A loud splattering sound and the sudden feeling of liquid running down her legs interrupts that thought. Almost immediately the contraction picks up in intensity and without the buffer of the amniotic fluid, she can now feel her baby's head so much more as it slowly but surely stretches her insides beyond compare. She can't bite down on the scream rising up her throat.
This is absolutely not like she'd planned. Another contraction makes it hard to think, and she bears down without conscious decision. And the baby that had been so slow and rather lazy the whole pregnancy suddenly seems to discover what impatience is. Two strong pushes is all it takes for the head to rest just behind her lower lips, ready to start crowning with the next contractions.
It's happening. She's going to be giving birth here, her jeans still on and no way of getting help. God give her strength...
I felt like writing a softer/cosier birth scene, compared to my other stuff. I hope some people might like this
Fruit of her Labour
She's lying in bed, all cosy and relaxed. Or well, as relaxed as she can be while in active labour. But mentally; mentally, she's relaxed. As she caresses her seizing belly, she smiles. This is exactly how she wanted this. It's all her doing. Only what she wants. No strangers giving their opinions unprompted; no stressful environment. Just her and her body.
When she feels like pushing, she does. Nothing extreme yet, just bearing down with the contraction and stopping again when it releases. Slowly, she works her baby until it's resting right behind her lower lips. Shifting to open up her hips more, she hums and waits for the next contraction.
It comes, and this time, she pushes with more force, though not enough to harm herself. She's read a lot about how to ward off tearing. She feels the burn of her baby's head slowly opening her up. When she stops pushing, it slips back in again, the burning receding as well. But she simply keeps breathing, one hand never leaving her belly. She works slowly and in-tune with her body until finally, the head stays at a crown - it burns but feels safe enough. She groans and hums and breathes to bear the pain as she waits for the next contraction; the one that will hopefully release her of this burning pain.
It comes, and she bears down with all her strength, moaning as she feels herself stretch impossibly more. But finally, the burning eases and with a low noise - and more amniotic fluid - the head pops out. Sighing in relief, she falls back against the pillows behind her back, now moving the hand from her belly until she can brush against her baby's head. Laughing softly, she keeps the hand there, not pressing just holding, as she waits again.
After what feels like a small eternity, her baby has rotated, and she's ready for it to be born completely. The contraction grips her again, and she bears down, moaning lowly as her opening is stretched again, though not as far as before. Still, it's not exactly comfortable, but the thought of finally being able to hold her baby is enough to make the pain bearable. Now, even as the contraction starts ebbing away, she keeps pushing. Just as she feels ready to give in and wait some more, she feels it. It's just a shift, a small, almost unnoticeable change, but she's so concentrated on her baby that it feels like time slows down for a moment.
One shoulder is released from her body, slowly almost in slow motion. And then, with another gasp and moan, the second one follows, and suddenly, her baby slips out of her completely, gliding onto the thick, soft towel she's placed all over the bed.
For a few moments, everything is quiet. She even holds her breath, all pain forgotten as she stares at her little miracle. And then, the baby starts crying, and she quickly gathers it in the towel and pulls onto her chest. Looking at her little baby, she can’t contain the delighted and slightly awed laugh that bubbles up her throat.
The fruit of her labour, safe and warm in her arms.
