Lomar Undercroft Mk2

Backup of Lomar Undercroft - Male, 40-something

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An introduction:

For those that don’t know my other account (@tbgblr) this is a blog focused around writing pregnancy and birth stories.

I had to create a new account as Tumblr didn’t seem to like the fact that I was sending messages out to my new followers welcoming them to the blog (think it was some sort of anti spam system as I sent a few in quick succession)

I always welcome feedback and discussions do please get in touch.

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The Water Park Day

With the summer (and blisteringly hot days even over here in the UK) well and truly apon us, heres a little something that we thought up to titlate your kinky little tastebuds. As usual many thanks to @allkindsofpreg for the co-authorship, and @highlyrelevantnumber for editing and tweaking to get it readable as a coherent story.

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The record-high summer heat had been brutal for everyone, but especially for you and your large, overdue belly. Our non-airconditioned house was almost as stifling, and in lieu of continuing to run up the water bill with cold showers, I suggested a trip to the amusement park. It was a little ridiculous to take someone so pregnant to a place where most of the attractions were off-limits, but they had a sizeable water park, and that was enough incentive for you.

You pawed through the dresser drawer of rarely used clothing items to find a swimsuit that would fit. A bikini would have been the most likely to accommodate the bump comfortably, but you hadn’t bought any new ones and your old ones would never contain your newly enlarged breasts and hips. After some more digging past old Halloween costumes—including the sexy maid outfit that had gotten you into this predicament in the first place—you found a one-piece that looked like it just might cover everything.

It was easy enough to remove the loose shift dress that had constituted most of your wardrobe over the last couple months, but getting the suit on was a different beast. The material was designed to stretch, but it looked so small compared to your curves, and your body was in a persistent state being of slightly damp at all times.

You laid the swimsuit on the floor and stepped into the leg holes… and that’s as far as you could get. You tried shuffling over to sit on the bed and roll the fabric up your legs, but that turned out to be both unsuccessful and uncomfortable. And that’s how I found you—sitting naked on the edge of the bed, belly spilling over your lap and a wad of bathing suit on the floor.

“Need a little help?” I asked, failing to completely hide the amusement in my tone.

“It is the least you can do, considering this is entirely your doing.” You lifted your leg and I slid the suit on one side, then the other.

“Is it now?” I helped heave you upright so I could pull it up your thighs, pausing at the waist. “I seem to recall you being the one wanting the double thrill of having sex without protection and possibly getting caught at the party.”

My hands lingered at the lower curve of your belly, and you leaned forward to give me a kiss. “That was a good night,” you recalled with a hum of satisfaction.

“You sure this is going to fit?” I asked as I tried to tug the fabric up and out toward the crest of your stomach.

“You promised me a day of cool, weightless water. We will make it fit.”

It took about twenty minutes—including two five-minute rest breaks—but we did finally get the straps over your shoulders. The bold colors and pattern did little to negate the overly stretched balloon look.

“It looks like I’m trying to smuggle in a beach ball,” you giggled, examining yourself in the mirror.

My hands pressed into the firm sides of your stomach. “Pretty solid beach ball.”

“You don’t have to tell me.” you arched your back in a stretch, and something deep in your core twinged. You winced and let out a little ‘oomph’ of surprise.

Of course I noticed and came up to wrap myself behind you. “Everything alright?”

You waved off my concern. “Same old, same old—big baby, small wife.” You grabbed your sun hat from the counter and caught my eye in the mirror. “So, pool?”

"Just a moment" I grinned, as I dropped my jeans to the floor, your 'humph' of frustration at the ease of me dropping my clothes soon replaced by a licking of your lips at the anticipation of me dropping my underwear soon after.

I didn't disappoint. Your swimsuit was practically see-through as it was stretched so much - and it was evidence by the bulge in front of your eyes.

A quick bend at the knees, my fingers tugging down my underwear, and as I stood up, you noticed the pole sticking out at 90 degrees from the rest of me.

"My my…" you were lost at the sight of it. "No… I just spent 20 minutes getting into this thing, no way I'm getting out until I feel 20 degrees cooler at least…"

I could only chuckle as I pulled up my swimming shorts which I had fished out of the drawers. I had to reach in to twist my cock a little to get it to sit down the side of my inner thigh and get caught on the netting, otherwise it could get a bit embarrassing.

Pulling my jeans over the top, and sticking my underwear back in my pocket for later after I was dried, I helped you up off the bed, and we headed for the car.

Thankfully, the water park offered towels as part of the entry price, so that was one less thing to bring with us, but I was polite and carried the bag as you heaved your body down the stairs behind me and squeezed into the passenger seat of the car.

Getting to the amusement park only took thirty minutes, but with you in your gravid state, that was thirty minutes too long to be bent double in a car. To say you were pleased to stretch your legs was an understatement. The idea of getting out of the airconditioned car to go back into the heat outside wasn't exactly your idea of a good time, though.

What shocked me was the fact that you didn't want to go to the toilet soon after we got out of the car. You shook your head. "I can't get this bloody suit off me. Not without help. I'll cross my legs… or make the pool water a little bit warmer if need be."

I gave a tutting noise and giggled, but as we travelled, hand in hand to the front gates of the amusement park, swiped my credit card, and walked through the doors, we caught sight of the crowd.

It was a warm summer day, of course the place was going to be crazy packed. The queue board was saying thirty minutes wait for everything, some as long as two hours. Don't think we would get any opportunity to get onto any rides, but turning right at the entrance and under a covered walkway took us to the water park.

It was as busy as the main park had been, but we found two loungers with access to the main pool, and, after dropping my trousers and pulling off my top, I dashed over (again to grumbles at my agility) to pull a few towels out of the store.

Finally, helping you back up onto your feet, your coverup discarded, we stepped into the cooling waters, now suddenly waist deep as we made our way down the steps.

The baby had been sitting lower and lower in your pelvis for weeks now, making walking or sitting or even sleeping uncomfortable. But once your belly was submerged, you must have made some very inappropriate sounds of pleasure, judging from the sideways glances you were getting as well as the somewhat conspicuous readjusting of my swim trunks.

The water was warmer than you would have liked, overly heated by the burning sun and the number of bodies in it, but it would still be difficult to coax you out at some point.

If your suit had been slightly see-through before, it was practically obscene now that it was wet. Absolutely no curve or crevice or texture was left to the imagination. But you were fine with that—as long as you stayed in the water, no one would notice, and you had no intention of getting out anytime soon.

You still weren’t quite as agile as me in the water; you couldn’t really flip or dive or freestyle swim, but at least you could walk without needing to sit down every few minutes to give your back a break. This all proved a little too tempting for me, though, as I pulled you into a kind of water dance and whispered dirty things into your ear.

“God, you look so sexy right now.”

You would have argued that that was impossible, but you could feel the evidence of it pressed against your skin through my suit. “Yeah? Think you can fuck me into labor later?”

I groaned. “Later is too long from now.” My hands traveled lower, below the curve of your stomach, and I rubbed my knuckles firmly against your clit through the fabric. “Want to risk some more indecent exposure charges?”

“You might have to cut this swimsuit off of me in order to do that,” you warned, gripping onto my shoulders and trying not to make any sounds or facial expressions that might draw attention.

My finger slipped beneath the tight hem between my thighs and stroked once, teasingly, before pulling back out again. “Don’t tempt me with a good time.”

Honestly, all the edges of this tight suit were painfully digging into your skin, and you would have been happy to see the thing torn to shreds… but you also hadn’t brought any other clothes to change into and needed something to wear home.

Another twinge tugged at your insides, and you leaned into my shoulder. “I don’t think the baby is too fond of this thing either,” you grumbled, and I rubbed at a spot where it felt like there might have been a foot jutting out against your skin. “Can’t we get our own pool built?”

I laughed. “Where? On the balcony?”

“A small one would fit.”

“I’m not even sure we could get an inflatable one set up before the baby comes.” Then, when you continued to pout, “We can look into it when we get home.”

Eventually, it was our hunger that drove us out of the pool. Despite the plea of a miserable pregnant woman, they would not allow food to be eaten whilst in the water.

“Ugh, why is this humidity even worse than it was a few hours ago?” you groaned as you heaved yourself from the water, one hand on the handrail and the other in my tight grasp.

“Because now you’re all wet,” I said, wrapping an assistive arm around your waist once you got to the top step. “Not that I think that suit will hold much water, stretched as it is right now.”

We barely made it over to the lounge chairs before you collapsed onto the one that had our towels slung over the back of it. You must have snoozed for a bit while I stood in line to order our lunch, because when you opened your eyes next there was a tray of food and a pair of virgin daiquiris on the table.

It took you another second before you realized what had awakened you—yet another tightening sensation in your stomach. Leave it to Braxton Hicks to ruin a good pool day.

I sat down sideways on the lounger facing you, as you tried to lift up into a sitting position to grab your food.

You failed. Twice. You gave me big puppy dog eyes and finally asked for a hand up as I jumped up and offered to help you sit upright.

“You make that look too easy” I heard you mumble under your breath. I couldn’t help but grin.

As I leaned in to kiss you, I whispered: “And you make growing our baby easy, my dear.”

You coughed and grinned, reaching out for the frozen drink. After taking a long drag on the straw you finally looked up and smiled “don’t you forget it when it comes to changing that little baby. Dad gets a turn at that, too.”

We both giggled as your free hand reached down to your belly again, rubbing at the taught skin (and even tighter swimsuit covering it).

“Little kiddywinks wants to make it clear she knows we are talking about her?” I asked. We didn’t actually know the sex of the baby, but you had your hunch, and I was just rolling with it. Said baby would be dressed in yellow and green for its first set of baby grows either way.

“That, or my body doesn’t like being so constrained. Folding me in half with nowhere for the bump to stretch to isn’t exactly comfy.”

“But… “ I interrupted. “It feels good in the water.”

You nodded, “so good” taking another big mouthful of the drink.

We moved onto our food - burgers - typical theme park fare, but aside from the twenty dollar price tag, they were quite tasty.

Another bite, another sip of drink and you looked a little worried.

“I need to stand up” you groaned. I looked at you with concern in my eyes. “Heartburn. Being folded over REALLY doesn’t agree with me.”

A nod from me and I got up, helping you up in turn. You let out an appreciative groan as you arched your back to stretch it - I got a face full of Lycra fabric stretching and struggling to keep its stitching in the process as you walked back to the pool.

You had taken on the pregnancy waddle - both hands pressed behind your back above your hips, your belly pressed out. Yeah I had to bite my lip and hope it wasn’t apparent to the onlookers what was going through my mind by the shape of my shorts.

As you walked down to the water, submerged waist deep once more, your hands were cupped under your belly and you were pulling up, as if to try and lift the baby off something that was causing you pain.

It wasn’t unusual for you to only be able to take a couple bites of food before the limited space your stomach could occupy was full, but it seemed like the baby was particularly offended by this choice of meal. The dull ache in your back now wrapped around all the way to the front, squeezing and sharpening. The water helped, but not as much as you’d hoped.

You took a couple more trips in and out of the pool—with my assistance—to grab more nibbles of food, but it ended up costing more energy than was gained and eventually you gave up and let me finish off the plates.

Although it didn’t seem possible, the meal left you even bigger and tighter in your swimsuit than before. Everything pinched, pulled and squeezed, and your discomfort must have been apparent because I quickly came up behind you, wrapping my arms around your waist and underneath the belly.

“Little one still causing you trouble?” I asked, thumbs stroking across the dangerously stretched fabric over your stomach.

“Somehow her feet are in my lungs and her head is between my legs.”

“Didn’t think there would be any danger of that in this suit, I figured she would be hugged in tight” I said, hands once again wandering lower.

You turned so that you were facing me, pulling as close as you could with your huge globe of a stomach in the way. Admittedly, we were not very close, so I pivoted you to the side so that you were kind of sitting on my lap—a feat you only attempted because the water made it so I wouldn’t be totally crushed. From this angle, it was easy enough for me to reach your lips, your breasts, between your legs.

If anyone was looking too closely they might have noticed, but most of the naughtier play was happening beneath the surface of the water. We still split apart like teenagers about to get caught making out in a parked car whenever the lifeguard walked by, but that just made us giggle more.

The Braxton Hicks pains still came and went regularly, some intense enough that I began to suggest making our way back to the car, but the thought of getting out and letting the full weight of gravity add to the pain in your back made you pout, and I couldn’t deny you anything. Especially not in this state.

Still, you saw me glancing at the clock every time I noticed your face scrunch up in discomfort, timing the space between the pains.

“Are you sure these are just practice contractions?” I finally asked when they were coming only a few minutes apart.

“I… don’t know,” you admitted.

“Maybe we should try getting out?”

You breathed your way through another tightening sensation and nodded hesitantly. I kissed your temple and guided you over to hang on the edge of the pool while I gathered our things. When I came back for you, I held out my hand, beckoning, but you shook your head.

“I don’t think I can,” you huffed, an arm wrapped around your stomach.

I waded into the water to retrieve you, curling an arm around your waist and taxiing you over to the stairs. As soon as your belly breached the water, you gasped and crumpled forward. You hadn’t realized just how much pressure the water had taken off your aching body, and the full force of it slammed into you and took your breath away.

“It’s okay,” I said, arm tightening around you. “Breathe, I’ve got you.”

“I need to sit,” you said, your ass already rocketing toward the top step. This allowed some partial support by the water, but the internal pressure was like a valve threatening to blow.

“Talk to me,” I pleaded when you finally released my hand from your death grip.

“I don’t think this is false labor. I think- I think maybe I’ve been in labor since this morning. Or maybe even last night. It’s hard to tell when everything hurts all the time,” you explained in response to my stricken expression.

“We need to get you out of here,” I said with renewed urgency, but another contraction hit you out of nowhere and I sat next to you to wait through it with you.

“Feels like—mmph—something’s gonna—“ you clutched at my stomach, almost clawing at the top tight fabric.

There was a small release, an almost imperceptible shift in the tightness of your suit and a spot of warmth blooming between your thighs. You looked down and there were a few light pink tendrils that quickly dissipated in the large body of water.

You looked up at me, your anxiety suddenly matching my own. “I think my water just broke.”

“Shit” I exclaimed, my face blanching white at the realisation.

“Shit indeed” was all you could echo, your eyes wide with something between concern and panic.

Whatever your body had been leading up to right there hit you like a tonne of bricks. You didn’t yell out, at least managed to keep some composure, but both hands pressed tightly into the bump and your eyes scrunched tight like you were trying to change the course of things by sheer will alone.

“Breathe baby. We won’t get anywhere with you collapsing” I gave you a scolding tone, hoping it would get through to you. Truth is you hadn’t even realised you were holding your breath.

“What do we do?” you grimaced. This had thrown you for a loop and you needed some sort of anchor.

“First off… breathe” I said. I watched you intently until I saw you take in a big lungful of air and blow it out slowly though your mouth.

“Good girl.” Your eyes shot up at me. I grinned. I knew your triggers… how much you enjoyed hearing me say that.

“Not appropriate” you grunted. Your eyes closed again. It was happening again. It was quick. You grabbed onto me, hoping your fingers digging into my skin would somehow stop the roiling sensations within you. Of course, that was not going to do anything, but you did admire the bright red welts you left on my skin, shining brightly out from under the water. Another contraction had passed before you realised, and we hadn’t even made an attempt to move.

“I can’t get home with these pains as frequent as they are” you whispered to me. “We might need to call an ambulance.”

I nodded as I scanned for a lifeguard. I couldn’t flag him over so said I’d have to go fetch him. You panicked. Told me I can’t move, you have to hold onto me, you might drown.

I felt your fingers grip me once more. Again… so soon. This was quick. I remembered from the birth classes contractions would be noticeable at ten minutes apart, and would be important to move to where you wanted to give birth at five minutes apart…at two… does that mean we wouldn’t even have a chance to get out of the park?

“I think we need to get you out of that swimsuit” I said. Don’t know if it registered what I had said. “I think the tightness is causing things to be amplified.”

You shook your head. Don’t know if that meant there was no way you were going naked in public, or if you didn’t think it would do anything to help the contractions.

You were in a strange state of calm urgency. Logically you knew that the baby was coming. That we had to get help. That the swimsuit would have to come off. But after the initial shock of realization, it was like your body clicked into focus mode.

You didn’t want to move. The water was just taking enough of the edge off to keep you from being overwhelmed. Now that your waters had gone, it felt like the baby’s head had dropped even lower, which you hadn’t thought possible.

“Feels like she’s right there,” you breathed, reaching a hand around the massive bump to palm between your legs. Of course nothing was there yet—you were sure there would be much burning and stretching before anything started bulging—but you could almost imagine that if you slipped a finger in, that just inside you’d be able to feel it.

You couldn’t quite test that theory, though. It was as if your whole belly had dropped even lower—maybe it had, with the baby locking into the birth canal—but the bottom of your suit was stretched even further, so tight against your skin that you couldn’t even get under the hem.

“Babe, the suit?” I prompted, now worried enough for the both of us.

You nodded but held up a finger to wait a minute, your face tightening into a grimace. I went into focus mode as well whenever you were having a contraction, one hand in yours, the other on the crest of your stomach.

With the tightness of the fabric, I could see every change—how it condensed and hardened and pressed down, down and out, as if trying to forcefully expel the child within.

“That… looked painful,” I finally said when your grip loosened on me.

You nodded, all you could manage as you came down from the contraction.

“Let’s see about that suit now, yeah?”

You nodded again, but getting up and out of the water felt monumental. Your body screamed in protest at the added weight and you groaned, even without the addition of a contraction.

The internal pressure spiked as you got your feet on the concrete; without the cushion of the amniotic sac there was nothing to prevent or soften the baby’s descent. If you were waddling before, it was like you were straddling a horse now, and I had to stifle a laugh as I tried to lead you to the changing rooms. The rooms were near the lockers and towel exchange, and we slipped into the disabled stall. It was bigger, but still only contained a hard wooden bench to sit on. I deposited you there while I went to the desk to see if you could buy an extra large towel, assuming that you would soon need some coverage to get out of the park.

Any movement expended energy that you needed to focus on not making a scene, so you waited until I came back to try and get the suit off. Three more contractions came and went while I was gone, and you were breathing through a fourth when the thin privacy curtain was thrown aside and I knelt in front of you.

“No big towels,” I said apologetically when you finally opened your eyes again. “But I got like five regular towels—maybe we can Frankenstein something together.”

Maybe it wouldn’t matter, though, if we couldn’t get this stupid swimsuit off. The wet fabric clang to your skin like it was glued there, and no manner of tugging could free you from it. The quick pace of contractions certainly didn’t help things.

“We may have to wait until it’s dry,” I concluded, mostly to myself, as you were so focused inwardly that you weren’t really paying attention.

“My ass hurts,” you whined, shifting uncomfortably on the wooden seat.

Happy to have something I could actually do something about, I folded up some of the extra towels and put them on the hard ground, guiding you as you slipped off the bench and onto your knees, kneeling on the towels as you used the bench to rest your elbows on.

I wrapped another towel around you, hoping to get you dry quicker, as you leaned forward, resting your forehead on your clasped hands. The contractions felt like they were on top of each other now, the pain a constant rolling and squeezing and sharpening sensation, and you shivered despite the heat.

You don’t know how long this lasted, maybe ten minutes or maybe an hour, but your suit was almost dry when you looked back up. I smiled encouragingly, but it faded when I saw your look of worry.

“I need to push.”

I didn’t have much time to react before you were doing what can only be described as yoga, on your knees, bending forward, stretching your back… cat pose? This was accompanied with a deep, low moan which should things have been different would have had me rushing to check my trousers in case of protrusions.

But right now, I was worried. You needing to push had come on so fast.

“Are you pushing right now?” I almost stumbled on my words. You didn’t reply, your head was between your arms, slowly rotating right and left as you let out your continued low noises.

“Baby?” I tried again. No response. I got down on my knees and ran a hand up and down your back. That seemed to snap you out of whatever trance you were in as your eyes gained focus on me.

“Sorry… just focusing on the pain.” You looked a little worried… definitely uncertain.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m worried too” I said as I stroked your back. “Are you actually pushing when you do that?”

Your head shook. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. This is all so… alien.” You leaned back into my hand and pushed yourself up with your hands on your thighs.

“It feels so big. So much like a boulder. It feels like one wrong grunt and I’ll split apart. I don’t think I’m doing it involuntarily, but I’m trying to buy us some time… breathe through them. I think that’s what they said in the preparation classes.”

I stepped back a few seconds. “Buying time for what?” You looked confused. I continued with “it’s just you and me baby. You need to think about standing up, getting in the car, we go to the hospital and we have our baby.”

“I’m buying time for you to figure out what the hell I can do about this costume…” that’s when I realised you had tears in your eyes “I’m trapped. How can I push out a baby when my pussy is contained in fabric that I can’t even get a finger between it and my skin?”

You grimaced, and I noticed you hold your breath. A slight look of strain on your features. Whatever you were trying it was a losing battle.

The urge to push was like a papercut—it didn’t bother you until you noticed it, and then it hurt like hell. You had been focusing on breathing, on keeping your body loose and relaxed… but that was damn near impossible with this corset-like suit making everything tighter. At least it didn’t restrict your movement; your hips and shoulders were free enough to bend and open at will, even if it did cause the hemmed edges to bite into your skin.

“Here, let me try,” I said, sure that you must be exaggerating about the tightness.

You shifted your weight again, leaning forward on your elbows and sticking your ass into the air. I was on my knees behind you, and the pause did not go unnoticed. “You’re thinking about the suit getting in the way of more than just the head crowning, aren’t you?” you teased.

The idea of the baby’s head pushing out between your legs caused you to grunt, your own discomfort growing (though of unreleased pleasure rather than pain). I adjusted myself, then probed gently around the fabric hugging the creases above your thighs. My fingers trailed along the cut of your hips, finding no weaknesses in the fabric there. I tugged gently at the flat expanses, but it only had a little give and I ended up pinching your skin more than the fabric.

I laid my palm flat against your blanketed pussy, and you shivered in mild pleasure as I stroked you gently through the fabric.

“Another one,” you warned, but I kept my hand where it was, curling my finger so that my knuckle dragged along the length of your opening and then pressed into your clit.

Any semblance of concentration you had before was gone with that touch, and something in your body released, as if a switch had flipped, and insistence turned to instinct, need.

You groaned, long and low, and pressed back into my touch. The contraction and the suit and your muscles all worked together to push down and out on the large baby making its way toward a currently blocked exit. There was so much pressure, like a balloon slowly expanding in your core from between your hips, deeper and lower as it moved closer toward your opening.

“Hmmm. Hoooo. Ohhh, oh fuck this hurts,” you moaned, shuffling your knees so that they could push even further apart. Your belly now scraped across the ground as you rocked forward and backward.

“That’s it. Breathe, baby. Breathe it down. Breathe down the head.”

It wasn’t like you had a choice. The baby was coming whether either of us were ready for it or not.

“I can feel it moving,” you said, partially in awe and partially in despair. “So big. So full.” It was my turn to groan again and you smiled to yourself. “You know, I’m a little busy here, but if you wanted to fuck as much of me as you can access, we can probably pass it off as amniotic fluid.”

“What?” I sounded bewildered, but also maybe a little excited. “I don’t- I mean, do you really think now is a good time for that?”

You shrugged, another contraction already beginning. “At least one of us should be enjoying ourselves.”

It was your growing moan that finally pushed me over the edge. You pushed your hips back, and I grabbed them, one hand on each side. You must have slipped my trunks just low enough to allow my cock to spring free, because you felt it slide along the taut fabric that might as well have been a chastity belt.

I bent forward over you, my hands furiously cupping the curves of your belly, your breasts, your neck, then back to your ass. I stroked myself against you a couple times and then paused. I waited until the contraction was over and then cupped my hands around your stomach.

“Wanna feel you. You look so sexy like this.”

You were getting uncomfortable like this anyway, so let me pull you up. Space was limited, so you simply stood, legs wide and leaning forward with your palms pressed into the bench. My hands stayed glued to your belly as I pressed up against you, and this time my hips were free to tilt and pump.

My rhythm and pace quickened as you hummed and whined through another contraction. My hand snaked between your legs as it built, and at its peak your knees bent of their own accord, and you sank down, a small cry escaping your lips at the same time I exclaimed, “Holy shit, is that- I can feel you bulging!”

And you were still trapped in this damn suit.

I stood for a few moments in confusion, my pants basically around my legs, my hard cock digging into your ass (and getting stopped from going anywhere by your swimsuit) - and perhaps more importantly considering our current situation - my hand cupping your pussy which was noticeably more rounded than what it had been this morning.

You were whimpering. In fact it was worse, you were shaking.

You reached your hand back to find my cock. It was slick with juices, my body almost ready for release moments earlier. I felt it grab and pull, your hand making slick sounds as it moved up and down.

Finally you spoke. “Have you cum. I want you to cum… fuck… cum. Fuck… Fuck…” You pressed your ass into me as I heard you grunt. You were pushing again. I couldn’t respond. I was bewildered by the moment.

“I… I…” I stammered, confused by the obvious nature of how far your labour had progressed, and your apparent lack of awareness of the same issue.

“Here, I’ll help.” You spoke, it was breathy, like you had been heavily exerting yourself. You reached back with a hand “help me balance”

I held onto your hand as you stood and rotated so you were facing me. You grabbed onto my shoulders and lowered yourself down into a squat, groaning non-stop as you lowered.

I looked down at your wide open legs and yes… it was there in front of my eyes. The area between your legs was bulged out. Almost as if a head was just behind the skin wanting out. The swimsuit clearly showed the edges of your lips… I guess camel toe if we were going to be crude about it… so I breathed a sigh of relief… it’s not that your lips had parted and the head was visible as we had seen so many times in the videos we had watched during our preparation for birth.

But suddenly my entire nervous system felt like it was hit by a bolt of lightning as your hands grabbed my ass cheeks for balance and your mouth enveloped my cock, suction applied to my engorged shaft.

I couldn’t do anything but moan myself as your head moved back and forth, my view downward now your damp hair, and swimming costume clad breasts and belly taking up the rest of my visible life right now.

Thirty seconds, maybe a minute of wet and sloppy noises came from you as I lost awareness of the immediate problem and fell into the wave of pleasure that coursed through me until finally my cock flinched, bounced in your mouth and discharged its warm load.

You let my flow of cum dribble out your mouth and chin as it dropped onto your swimsuit as you felt my cock once more convulse and finally start to recede, slipping out of your mouth.

I breathed a sigh of relief at my release. The feel good hormones coursing through me as a result of the orgasm leaving me momentarily clueless, until that half moment later, as you gripped hard to my ass cheeks, causing pain as your fingers dug in, another contraction rapidly peaking. Your open leg stance and gravity-aided position making you feel the contraction effects so much worse than being on your knees as you were earlier.

So many conflicting feelings roiled within you at once. There was pain, obviously, but also some pleasure. A squeezing pressure, but also an opening, a stretching. And of course a torturous mix of movement and inertia.

Your body was acting of its own accord, the sounds and movements and straining grunts that forced the baby lower and lower. You whined as you rocked back and forth between your heels and the balls of your feet, belly hanging low between your knees as you gripped me tightly.

“Babe. Babe, baby,” I repeated, breath catching every time your fingers dug in and eventually just prying your hands from my hips to prevent any permanent damage. “I know how fond you are of my ass; it would be a pity if you tore it to shreds.”

“Fuck, sorry. Sorry,” you mumbled as I pulled my trunks back up, keeping one hand in mine so you didn’t fall over. “Tight. Hurts.”

I knelt down so I was at eye level with you. “I know, baby. But you’re so close. It’s almost over.”

“W-what?” you asked, finally processing what I’d just said once the contraction was over. “What do you mean?” you looked down at your still very round and full and heavy belly, the impossibly tight fabric still clinging to the most essential parts of you, and then back up at me.

I guided your hand between your legs, and you gasped. You hadn’t been able to spend much time there the last few months—that duty had fallen to me once the belly had gotten too big—but you still knew it well enough to tell how drastically different it felt now. More of your skin had been forced out of the sides of the suit, pushed out wide and slightly outward, the force of the baby’s head already spreading you open.

“Is it- do you think it’s hurting the baby?” you asked in somewhat of a panic as you tugged fruitlessly at the hem of the suit again. “I don’t want there to be a crease down the center of her skull when she’s born.”

I kissed the side of your head. “I don’t think you have to worry about that just yet. You’re not even close to crowning yet.”

You pouted a little at that. “How do you know? We can’t see anything with this stupid suit in the way!”

I didn’t have time to answer before you were pushing again, and oh how you wished I could return the favour and get you off right now. You could feel the press and retreat of the bulge against your hand in time with your efforts, but it never seemed to get any further. Couldn’t get any further.

It went like this for another fifteen minutes or so, and it was getting harder and harder to keep the situation between just the two of us. Your noises, along with our lengthy occupation of the stall, had resulted in several questions about our status. You had been adamant about keeping this between just the two of us, but I had made no more progress on freeing you and you had made no more progress on crowning.

You were sitting on top of several towels on the ground, leaning up against the wall with your knees up, the thin strip of fabric between your legs bowing out and snapping back into place as you huffed and grunted. We locked eyes, and I placed a hand on your heaving belly as we both came to the same conclusion—we needed help.

“I think it’s time we called in some reinforcements,” I said gently, perhaps expecting you to still protest.

You simply nodded, tired of all your efforts being in vain and ready to meet our baby. “Just make sure they have a pair of damn scissors.”

I threw the curtain back and was greeted by two faces peering back.

“Everything OK?” came the voice of a man. He was joined by a lady. Both were wearing swimsuits… neither appeared to be representatives of the water park.

“My wife… she’s in labour. She’s pushing… need to get her suit off. No… scratch that. Need to cut her suit off. Can you get someone to get me a pair of scissors and can you get someone to ring an ambulance?”

The man went off to find a lifeguard, and the woman dashed to the gift shop. I didn’t even have an opportunity to ask their names.

I turned back to you and you stared at me wide-eyed. “They’re going to get help…”

You nodded as you groaned, hands grabbing your inner thighs and pulling apart your legs. You made no attempt to stop it now, you pushed hard, wanting desperately to expel the force that was building but… completely unable to move it.

I stared focusing between your legs. The swimsuit was no better than a second skin and I could now see your lips had opened, the baby’s head would be visible as its teardrop shape signifying you were progressing towards crowning, had there been nothing in the way.

You gulped in a breath of air and screamed at the top of your lungs. Frustration and pain finally got the better of you.

As you let off the push, I saw the receding of your lips. The tight fabric twanging back as tight as a guitar string.

Another push a few moments later and I stuck my head out of the changing room looking for the salvation of the people who had ran for help - no sign of them.

You had a moment to rest as the contraction faded, but it was short-lived… baby wanted out, and your body wanted to play along with that plan…

I finally heard footsteps… several footsteps. Your scream had them barrelling down on us. There was a hand on my shoulder and a pair of scissors pushed in front of my vision.

I didn’t even say thanks. I grabbed them and shoved the icy cold blades against your skin. You shrieked. For half a moment I thought I had cut you, but then the blades came together, there was a sound somewhere close to a ‘thwap’ and your split apart swimsuit simultaneously rolled half way up your belly and over your ass, leaving you exposed to everyone in front of you.

You glanced up. There was the man and woman, someone wearing a suit, and a lifeguard carrying a first aid kit. And right there between your legs was the first sight of our child’s hair.

Your breasts were still partially covered by the tattered remains of the swimsuit, and you lifted your arms and looked at me pleadingly. It was easier to cut away at the straps instead of trying to pull it over your head, and you breathed a sigh of relief once you were finally free. Some part of you considered modesty—we still had a couple clean towels left—but the idea of any fabric touching your body after having been trapped for so long made you squirm.

“Better?” I asked, stroking your exposed skin and feeling it contort and harden as another contraction began. “Push now. Let’s get this baby out of you.”

“Uh, the ambulance should be here in about 20 minutes, but they’ll have to make their way through the park to get back here,” the lifeguard said.

You looked over at him, still standing awkwardly by the stall entrance holding the inadequate first aid kit. He was young, probably a college kid trying to make some extra money over the summer, and trying to look everywhere but between your legs.

“Hate to burst your bubble, kid, but I think we’re a little late for that.” This came from the woman, who was the only other person who had dared to venture into the room. “You’re doing great, mama, just keep listening to your body.”

She was a calm, grounding presence as your stress and emotions were going haywire. “I need to push!” you yelled to no one in particular.

With no barrier holding the baby’s head in place, it surged forward, and you screamed.

“Slow, slow,” I reminded you, using my hand now to keep the head from coming too quickly. “You still need to stretch.”

You wanted to smack my hand away and throw everything into another push, but with the paramedics still so far out and the meagre experience with childbirth in this room, you didn’t want to risk injuring either yourself or the baby.

“I want it out,” you whined between panted breaths, mimicking the pattern I coached for you. “Everything hurts. I’m so uncomfortable.” That was the understatement of the century—the bowling ball between your legs kept them spread open painfully wide, and sitting on the ground, even with the towels, was hell on your spine and tailbone.

“What can I do? How can I help?” I asked, but you couldn’t answer.

You shook your head, your fingers wrapping around my forearms and squeezing at the same time your breathing picked up. The instinct to bear down was overwhelming, and you ended up clenching everything except your core. Your panting breaths were practically obscene, your full breasts and belly heaving with each one.

“Maybe she wants to change positions?” the woman suggested, correctly reading your body language as you shifted and twisted.

You nodded furiously in confirmation, and I turned back toward the crowd. Whatever position you ended up in, someone would need to help you balance while someone else managed the baby. We were going to need a helper.

“Alright,” I said. “Who wants to hold, and who wants to catch?”

No one jumped forward to volunteer, though, after a few moments, the silence must have been too cloying, as the man put his hand up.

“Happy to help… but feel a bit self conscious. You know, nakedness and all that. I mean we have only just met,” he finished with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

You reached a hand out, flexing your hand to get my attention. I grabbed it and pullled you up to your feet. You took the opportunity to wrap your arms around my neck, pressing your body into me as you swayed, moaned and gave the occasional yell.

“Could I…” the suited man looked embarrassed but continued after a moment. “Could I get you a hand towel? Something to perhaps bite down on… to muffle some of the more… emotive sounds?”

He was of course worried that word of mouth would get out. They had roped off the changing area we were in with maintenance signs to keep other members of the public out… but the sound carried.

“Seriously…” I growled. “Have a bit of fucking empathy, my guy.”

The suited guy scowled at me, feeling a little put out “if you hadn’t come here trying to give birth on site… trying to get the press’ attention”

I nearly lost it. Grabbed his shirt lapels and was almost ready to give him a punch when you put a hand on my shoulder.

“Please…” your eyes were wide and I could see you needed support. “I need to push!”

You buried your head back into my chest and yelled… my chest muffling the noise which would no doubt appease the suit.

I looked over and the three other people here, even the lifeguard who no doubt worked for the guy in the suit, were all giving death stares.

You stepped your left foot one step to the side and then again with your right to open your legs, and bending at the knees, you pushed again.

The woman got down on her knees and smiled up at her husband and me. “Heads coming along nicely. Nice and slow. No need to do yourself an injury.”

It was harder like this, in some ways—the same gravity that was tugging at the baby and bringing it steadily down was also wreaking havoc on your spine, your knees, your feet—and you were clinging to me with perhaps more force than I was expecting, as I was having a hard time keeping you upright.

“My back, I can’t—!” Your words were cut off with an involuntary moan as you dipped lower into your mini squat. The pressure bordered on painful, both nowhere and everywhere all at once deep in your hips, and you felt like you couldn’t close your legs again now that they had spread. You thought surely the head must be nearly out by now, and you slipped your hand between your legs. But all you felt was your own skin—hot and stretched and distended, yes, but still not crowning. There weren’t many folds left to pull aside and it only took a little prodding to find a sliver of the head.

“Try leaning over, dear,” the woman said, gently guiding you to turn to face the back of the stall and lean down to brace your hands against the bench. “Then you press here,” she said, placing my hands flat against your lower back.

You whimpered, your fingers wrapping tightly around the edge of the seat as your dipped lower again. “Mm. Nghh!” you experimented with smaller grunts and pushes. “Hooo. Oh. Oh god, I can’t- I- nghahh!”

“That’s my girl,” I praised, kneading into your skin as you gasped and trembled.

“Wanna… I wanna see…” you managed between panted breaths.

“See what?” one of the men by the entrance asked, and you felt me tense in barely contained frustration.

“We didn’t bring a mirror, baby,” I said apologetically, ignoring them. But then I had an idea. “We’ve got the tablet, though?”

When you nodded, I pulled away for a moment to rummage through our bags. We had brought the tablet so I could read while you took up permanent residence in the pool; I would have been concerned about the potential of bodily fluids, but we had it in a waterproof case because, well, we were taking it to a water park.

I placed it between your spread legs and turned on the camera, flipping the view so that we could all watch the progress and subtly pressing the record button so that we could rewatch it later—you were too deep into primal instinct to truly appreciate and enjoy it now. After some adjusting for your movements and pushing position, I managed to position it so that everyone could see.

Just in time for another contraction.

You grunted whilst looking down, over your belly as best you could to glimpse the screen below. You saw the petals of your lips spread wide… no… bloom, as you applied downward pressure.

You huffed, moaned and repeatedly gasped for breath between pushes, but there was movement.

“That’s my baby, that’s my baby” you shrieked with joy as you caught a good glimpse of the head as it - finally - didn’t retreat as you let up the pressure.

Your body let you take a moment to rest, deep panting breaths heaving your belly and chest as you realised just how strenuous this really was.

“You’re doing great, baby” I said, my hand rubbing your back. “A few more like that and we might have the baby’s head.”

“Shall we have a race?” You panted. Huffing out a breath you added: “Do I get the head out before the paramedics get here?”

The suited man looked shell shocked. He had visions of you splitting apart, blood and gore splattering the changing room floor as you pushed harder than your body could manage.

“Please…” he stammered. “The professionals are near. I understand if you pant and don’t push, you can slow things down, keep everything calm and relaxed until help arrives.”

“No can do, boss man” you grimaced, the respite between contractions over once more as you grabbed me, squeezing, your grip echoing the downward force you were experiencing. “Baby wants out, and I can’t stop it…”

Your sweaty forehead, the signs of exertion evident in your matted hair, pressed against me and you screamed loudly. You were stretched now, the head keeping your lips parted. So close to a full crown and the birth of the head, and the relief you hoped would follow.

You knew things would get worse before they got better, but holy fuck you were not prepared for just how much worse. Getting the head down this far had been exhausting as the pressure grew and shifted with it, but now that it was finally at your opening it refused to budge.

At least it felt that way. I assured you that there was progress with every push, and you felt the burning sting as your skin stretched with every effort, but every peek at the camera seemed to show the same image.

After several contractions passed with little perceivable progress, you began to whine against me. “Too big. It’s too big.”

I stroked my hair and rubbed your belly—it was still taut, but had shifted and dropped significantly with the mass inside. “We knew it was gonna be big,” I reminded you.

“And I’m uncomfortable.” you shifted and swayed on your feet, bending and stretching your knees and back to the limited extent your current position would allow. “I want our home. I want our bed.”

I looked back at the suit, and he at least had the good sense to be a little contrite about accusing us of intentionally getting into this mess. “I know, baby. But it’s almost over. You’re so close. And then we’ll have our baby, and we can go home. Our whole little family.”

You were only partially listening, but nodded anyway—just hearing my voice was grounding, calming—and redoubled your focus on pushing. Your legs were shaking and even your elbows and wrists protested as you braced against the bench. You wanted to sink lower, to really open up and center all your strength into your core, but you couldn’t. Not like this.

“Need to move,” you gasped as another contraction waned.

“How? Where?”

My hands fluttered about aimlessly until you tugged me over to the bench, then pushed down on my shoulders until I was sat in front of you. You managed to turn around, slowly, and settled yourself between my legs. With my hands supporting you as you lowered down, you hooked your arms over my thighs and was able to go low enough that your ass practically touched the ground.

The woman readjusted the tablet so that you and I could still see—everyone else hovering at the entrance now had a front row view—and you tested out the new position as the pressure began to build yet again.

“Another one. Coming, it’s coming.” Your deep breaths turned into rapid, desperate pants as the head pressed insistently behind your stretched lips. “Burning!” you cried at the same time the camera showed your opening held in a perfectly round ‘o’ shape, the bulge of the head pressing out behind it. You were almost afraid to push, afraid of tearing, but also just afraid of the added pain. “I can’t- can’t take anymore.”

“It’s okay, you’re stretching nicely. Take a minute to breathe here if you need to,” the woman still monitoring your progress said.

I kissed your temple and my hands found their way to your breasts, giving them a light massage and effectively distracting you. You rested your head back against my chest, trying to focus on the sensations I was producing as the raging inferno between your legs threatened to overwhelm you.

The circle widened even as you breathed, the pressure of the contractions and gravity and your wide open stance enough to force the head further and further toward its inevitable exit. Your noises condensed into high-pitched squeals and you tensed against me, your jaw clenching and your body becoming rigid as you attempted to hold back your scream, now at a full, pronounced, obscenely stretched crown.

The contraction ended as you were held open at the widest point, and you let out a noise something like a choked sob.

“Relax, baby. Head’s almost out,” I soothed. “Just let it come.”

“It’s coming quick… it’s coming quick” you squealed, unable to control the sensations coursing between your legs.

“Listen to me… pant… huff huff huff” I regretted not being able to look you in the eyes as I tried to get you to focus on me and not your own body. I knew I needed to stop you actively pushing - I was scared you were going to tear. “Focus on me, baby… on me.”

Your focus drifted towards me and I saw you breathe in, then let out little huffing pants. All the while the head moved tiny bit by tiny bit as more and more of it became visible.

The slightly deformed shape - oval and not round like an adult head - peeked further and further out as you continued to pant over and over again, rapid shallow breaths echoing the ones I was doing in front of you.

Then all of a sudden, as the head slipped past half way… the baby’s nose slipping past your lips, you tensed up, gasping. Your body went rigid, and whilst it lasted just a moment, I knew exactly what was happening. I heard a noise that I could only describe as a ‘slap’ as your lips, stretched tight up until a moment earlier slipped back to the baby’s neck, a gush of fluid splashed out and sloshed on the floor, and the room went suddenly silent except for your heaving, panting breathing… everyone who was observing in front of you shocked into momentary silence as finally our baby’s head had been born.

Your hand reached down almost instinctively and felt around the protruding shape, simultaneously the most natural thing in the world… yet at that time felt so out of place it was surreal.

The woman was the first to move, her hands gently pushing yours out of the way as she tugged at the umbilical cord, slipping it back and over the baby’s head, removing the risk of it getting tied around the baby’s neck.

You blinked. You knew you were only half way done, you knew there were shoulders and a body to be born… but you relished the moment of intimate connection between yourself and our first born child, first instance of mother and baby skin to skin contact as your hand dropped back down to cup the head once more.

“That’s our baby!” you exclaimed, your hand cupping the soft, wet mass that was simultaneously both huge and very tiny. “It felt so much bigger coming out of me,” you giggled breathlessly. You looked at the image in the tablet camera, which gave a different viewing angle. “It’s so pointy.”

The woman between your legs nodded. “That’s what happens with most natural births. Especially with a babe this size in a mum your size.”

Something shifted in your hips, and you winced as the head in your hands twisted and turned to the side, a familiar pressure building as another contraction started. “Guess it’s time for the shoulders.”

Everything was still so sore and though your belly had deflated somewhat with the release of fluids, there was still plenty of pressure and fullness insistently pressing behind your loosened hole.

You pushed, hard, ready to get this over with and finally meet our baby properly, but nothing happened. You shifted on the balls of your feet, circling your hips in an attempt to dislodge whatever was holding up this last bit of effort, but the contraction ended with no additional progress.

“You’ll have it on the next one,” the woman said, though she sounded more unsure.

You looked back at me, and I gave you a worried smile. “Next one.”

You redoubled your efforts when the next contraction came, but the baby was still stuck half in and half out.

“Keep pushing!” the woman encouraged, but you shook your head.

“I don’t want to hurt the baby,” you hiccuped, practically in tears—this was supposed to be the easy part. “The paramedics should be here soon, right?” Surely it had been long enough now that they would have almost made their way back here.

The guy in the suit withdrew from the entrance so he could look around. He didn’t see anyone right away, so took out his phone to call and locate them—apparently, they had gotten waylaid by another emergency on the way to the back of the park, but they would arrive any minute now.

Another contraction was starting up and, god, not pushing felt so much worse. The instinct to bear down was so strong and your panting breaths so fast that you were a little concerned that you might hyperventilate and pass out.

“Slow, deep breaths,” I coached, letting you squeeze my hand as hard as you could.

“I can’t- I have to—“

“Breathe. Let go. Do it for our baby.”

Your face contorted in pain as you whined, long and loud, but you managed to keep pace and mimic my measured breaths. Your body may have been pushing some on its own, and your hands found their way back to the baby’s head as you focused all your efforts on not giving in to the desperate and all-consuming need.

“Just hold on, baby,” you said in a strangled whisper. “Help is coming.”

“Good job, baby,” I praised as you relaxed, slumping against me. “Just like that.”

“I don’t know if I can do that again,” you confessed, looking back at me worriedly.

A new commotion sounded just outside the door as two uniformed medics pushed their way through the small crowd.

“Looks like you won’t have to,” I said, equally relieved.

“Good,” you said, breaths picking back up. “Because another contraction is—ngghh!”

The paramedics arrived at the scene without any real fanfare - the suited man ducking out of the room to guide them towards us.

A man and a woman made up the paramedics team. Slinging their bag to the ground the lady knelt down between your legs and took charge of the situation.

She saw you were pushing, actively in the middle of working through a contraction, straining cords at your neck and your hands gripping into mine, looking desperately for some way to move things on between your legs.

You finally started panting, and took focus of the two new attendees to the room.

"You're doing great, mama" came the voice from the female paramedic. "Call me Sally, and this here is Nick. Looks like you've done most of the hard work already, so we're here to get you through that last little step. You okay with that?"

You nodded your understanding, exhausted breaths getting sucked in and out of your lungs, limiting what you said verbally in response.

"How long has the head been like that?" came the voice of the male paramedic, Nick.

I answered. "Three pushes. She thinks our baby is stuck. Can't get the shoulders out."

Nick nodded. "That's OK, sometimes babies can be stubborn. We'll pop that cork right outta ya!"

Sally rubbed your leg and heaved herself back up. She smiled at you as you'd recovered enough to stop sucking in big gulps of air. "I've been in your situation" she grinned. "My first baby didn't want to come out. Had two more since then. If it at all helps… next one should be easier."

You chuckled. These two certainly helped lighten the mood, give an air of calm to things. But all things come to an end, and yours was signalled by the onset of another contraction. You scrunched your eyes closed and moaned loudly as you started to push again.

"That's it, big strong push!" that was Sally. A gloved finger slipped inside of you around the babys neck and felt around. "Ahh… there we are. I can feel where things are stuck."

Your composure failed. "Get it out! Get it out!" was all you could wail. You finished your push with a wailing, pleading cry.

"Up on your feet, please, mama" came the voice from Sally. You groaned as you had to move once more; I stood with you. "Okay, daddy… I guess you are the daddy, yeah?" she looked at me. I nodded in confirmation. "I want you to hook your hands together under her arm pits, and cross them under her chin." I did as I was asked, and Sally nodded. "Good… now Mama. You squat down low. Deep as you can get. I want those hips to open nice and wide."

You went limp in my hands and sunk to the ground. I was taken aback by the sudden dead weight in my arms and had to react quickly just to hold your weight up. Sally got down on the floor and once more sunk her fingers in behind the baby's neck. She tugged on your skin, which resulted in you giving a howling screech of unexpected pain, but you felt the baby physically move inside of you, and suddenly there was a pop, and the first shoulder, second shoulder and baby's torso all slid out in quick succession, right into Sally’s hands.

A moment later, after a small tug to free the legs, and and our baby - our daughter - was born. The cries of the baby were echoed by the cheers and claps of the small group that had mustered around us. It didn't take the paramedics long to cut the cord and hand the baby up to you. I kissed and embraced you as I settled you on the ground to bond with the baby.

The paramedics carried out their paperwork and helped you deliver the placenta as they started to get us ready to transfer to the hospital for a check up. Nick took a look around at the shredded swimsuit, and seeing no other clothes he looked inquisitively at us. "Do you have anything to get changed into?"

You went red with embarrassment. "Didn't think I'd be needing to get cut out of the suit" you mumbled.

"Not to worry, hang here for 5, do new mummy stuff, and I'll go fetch you a blanket to cover your modesty. The hospital will have the height of fashion available to you, paper gowns, as daddy here goes home to fetch you something more suitable for leaving the hospital with a newborn baby in tow" He chuckled as he left the room and trudged back to the ambulance.

[highlyrelevantnumber]

Sam/Mariam in the middle ages

Sam and Mariam live in a village in the middle ages, and they're about to have their first child. Featuring Valerie, Artemis, and Bianca as Sam's cousins! In the attached image you can read the beginning of the fic.

...and here's the AO3 link to enjoy the fic in full:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/85857826

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Bit of promo for another friend and writer.

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On one hand - wife is away for the weekend. On the other hand… birth video marathon!

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Lifestyles

Finally, a new story for the blog. One of my backlog that needed editing. First I have to acknowledge @allkindsofpreg for her usual contributions to my works, and I want to introduce @highlyrelevantnumber as well who has helped with editing this last piece. Many thanks to both of you, I would certainly not be anywhere near productive without you both! However, on with the story...

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"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to today's episode of "Lifestyles", the officially recorded highest rated show on air covering current affairs and entertainment. I'm your host, Gabby Sinclair, and today I'm joined by our special guest - celebrated author of the wonderful series of books entitled "Motherhood" Jessica Shallows."

The host had practiced polish to her style. I watched as she gave a few moments to allow for the canned clapping to be added by the mixer desk back in the office - in reality, we were in a room with the two of us, a camera operator, and the understanding that there would be a need for a whole lot of post-processing to go to get the show ready for the screen.

I felt uncomfortable in my seat. Truth be told, I was not really one for public spectacle. I was an author, a doula - and I felt most comfortable either behind a screen typing away, or in a delivery room holding a nervous mother-to-be's hand as she undertook a major journey in her life.

Another major reason for my lack of comfort was the fact that I was 9 months pregnant - and it was very obvious. The lady who had helped hundreds of babies be brought into the world was finally becoming a mother herself. With my enforced maternity leave, I had decided to put the finishing touches to my latest book so the proceeds could help smooth out the lack of money coming into the home.

My mind was on other things, though. 30 minutes ago I was in the dressing room getting my makeup done by the team, having a bit of small talk with Gabby - when I felt a twinge. I knew it was my first baby, and it would take time... but the twinges had seemed to become all the more noticeable when the cameras were pointing right at my face.   I was struggling to decide if it was nerves… or something more.

"So, Jessica" asked Gabby - the show was underway - "You have a five-book series so far recounting the many births you have attended, and they have become best sellers all over the globe. Now you're readying for undertaking the same journey yourself. Tell me - how does it feel to be at the other end of the action, so to speak?"

I smiled as my hand moved to my bump as I felt another heave. I just hoped that I could get through this interview. I had plenty of time, I was sure of it.

“Well, it’s a beautiful experience, of course,” I said, waiting for her to nod in agreement, even though she didn’t have any kids. “If your idea of beauty includes constant nausea and the walking speed of a centenarian,” I added, hoping that it came off as humorous and relatable rather than bitter and exhausted.

She chuckled appropriately and watched as I shifted yet again in my chair. “Getting down to the finish line now, yeah? Any details on your own birth plan you want to share?”

I absolutely did not want to describe to however many thousands or millions of people that would see this all the intimate and vulnerable details of how I was intending to give birth, so I just said, “I’ve been witness to the process enough times to know that whatever plan I may have, babies tend to have plans of their own.”

As if to make a point, my belly tightened again, and my smile may have turned a bit tight as I attempted to hide a wince.

“Perhaps we’ll read all about it in your next book, then,” Gabby proposed, waiting until I gave a non-committal shrug before moving on. “Speaking of which… I’m sure most of our audience has heard of your work, but for anyone who might not know, why don’t you tell us a little about what your series is about and the reason you started writing it?”

I took another few seconds to catch my breath—maybe it just looked like I was composing my thoughts—and then recited the boiler plate answer I’d given dozens of times before. “Well, my mother was a midwife, and I realized at a very young age that the education I received about women’s bodies and experiences was vastly different from that of my peers. There was always so much fear and mystery and shame whenever these kinds of topics came up, and it didn’t make sense to innocent little Jessica who had seen and heard only the power and strength and beauty in it all.” A foot jutted out against the wall of my stomach, and I patted the spot, still somewhat in awe of what my body was capable of doing.

“So you wanted to show that the journey of becoming a mother is something to celebrate, not fear?”

A particularly stabbing pain wrapped around my lower back, and I arched against the chair with a small hiss, my very round stomach spilling even more gratuitously over my lap.

“Are you alright, Jessica?” Gabby asked, practiced professionalism slipping into genuine concern. “Maybe we can find you a pillow or something to make you more comfortable.”

I shook my head, not wanting to prolong the interview. “No, thank you. Just running out of room in there, you know?” She didn’t quite look like she believed me, but I continued, answering her earlier question. “I would say it’s less about celebration and more about normalization. There’s nothing especially dramatic or unique about the women in my books, but because we as a society don’t bring up things like placentas and episiotomies and cervixes in ‘polite’ conversation, I figured it would be less intimidating, less clinical, coming from actual lived experiences.”

“Kind of like regaining that tribal knowledge of womanhood.”

“Exactly!” My sudden excitement triggered another pain, somehow even worse than the last one, and I found it ironic that all that tribal knowledge seemed to be failing me now. Things were intensifying too much too quickly. I’d heard about precipitous labours but never attended one—the few opportunities had passed before I could even arrive.

I took a breath, willed myself to calm down. I had never actually been through labor before; maybe this was all normal. Maybe it wasn’t even labor. Surely, I was just jumping to conclusions…

"So do you have any fond memories of any particular births?" came the next question from Gabby.

"Let me think" I pondered a moment, my brain part-focused on the ache that had come back, once more, around my midsection.

"I know a good one" I added. "It was a young, first-time mother. Her pregnancy was an accident. But there was one thing evident in the room as she came in - she was strong. She was hard - knew a life of hard knocks. She suffered her labour like a champ - she hardly made a sound, thinking showing any weakness would be a failing for her. She knew she couldn't ride things out like that for the full duration of the labour. She asked permission to cry out. The girl felt she needed to be allowed to make noise and deal with something that pretty much every mother I have dealt with just allowed to come naturally."

I took a moment to reminisce. "When she finally got the head out, screaming like a banshee, really letting herself go, she reached down and felt the baby for the first time. It was right then I saw love in her eyes. As she took a moment to rest before she had to push out the shoulders and the body she told me, with tears in her eyes that this baby would be the love of her life. And it was - we still keep in touch. In fact, I hope to deliver her second baby after I get back from my maternity leave. She's married now and made a decent life for herself. A real star of the schools PTA it seems!"

My hand absentmindedly pressed into the side of my belly, as the tightening sensation drew across it once again. I blew out a small breath.

"Everything OK?" asked Gabby.

I nodded my head. "Just late-stage pregnancy. Not the easiest thing to sit still when junior wants to poke you in every internal crevice possible." I gave a weak laugh as my hand pressed harder against the aching band of tightening muscle around my middle.

"If it helps..." offered Gabby "we can stand. That's the beauty of our set, we can just move around to suit - we often chat in front of the screen when a guest wants to chat about a video or presentation."

"That would be lovely" I said, as I put my hands on the sides of the chair and pushed myself up to my feet, smoothing my dress down around my knees. I felt like I was a bit of a spectacle on camera trying to get up, but at least I managed it somewhat gracefully.

"Can you do some editing to make me look more graceful?" I asked  Gabby as she stood up and moved next to me.

"Of course, my dear. One of the beauties of this not going out live - editing can solve a multitude of sins!" came the smiling voice of Gabby next to me.

It wasn’t a huge studio, and I had to take extra care around all the lights and camera equipment as my huge belly swung around, but moving around definitely helped alleviate some of the ache. Of course, instead it now felt like the baby’s head could just fall out at any moment, but rationally I knew it wouldn’t be that easy—no one would ever need my services if it was.

“So, Jessica—do you want to give us a sneak peek into this latest release?” Gabby asked, trying to move the interview along.

I paused to grip the back of a chair, channeling the tightness in my midsection into my grip. “Sure, yeah. It’s really a story of endurance.” I bowed my head, taking in a few puffs of air, and then straightened. “It was the longest birth I’d ever attended. This young mother was in labor for days.”

“And you stayed by her side that entire time?” she asked incredulously.

“Most of it, yeah,” I said, somewhat out of breath. “It helps everyone involved to know that the mother always has someone by her side to support and encourage her. Takes the pressure off and makes it a more enjoyable experience overall.”

I must not have been masking my wince very well because Gabby paused the interview yet again. “Are you sure you’re alright? We can schedule this for another time if you’re not feeling up for it.”

I shook my head—it had already taken almost a year to set up this time slot; if we tried to reschedule, I’d likely already be back to work with a nursing child to take care of. I swiped the bottle of water left out for guests on the side table and pointed to it. “Just need a little water and a lot of movement.”

Ever the professional, Gabby took what she was given and followed it down a new path. “Perfect! You can demonstrate some of the positions you describe in your book.”

“Most of them are doula-assisted and require another person…”

She raised her hand like the solution was obvious. “I’m another person.”

“Oh. Right.” It would be a little awkward, using myself as a test dummy with someone I’d only just met, but I had to admit I was curious. “Now I guess we’ll both be ‘on the other side of the action’,” I joked, echoing her own words back to her.

She smirked at that, seeming to like the challenge. “Alright, what do you want to try first?”

“Do you, by any chance, have something I can kneel on?” I asked, as my hands migrated around to my back and pressed, forcing me to jut out my belly in turn. The moment of relief felt like heaven.

“Let me see…” pondered Gabby. As she looked around, the cameraman pointed to the chairs we were previously on. “Oh yeah, we can just remove the cushion from the seat.”

I nodded. “That will be good. Is there anywhere sturdy I can lean against?”

Gabby’s eyes looked around the room once more. Aside from the two chairs and a table in between them, the rest of the room was mainly populated by electronics and lighting equipment. Nothing that anyone would classify as ‘sturdy.’

Whilst Gabby scanned the room, I did some mental arithmetic. It had only been an hour, and I was already at the point where contractions were established. I hadn’t been timing them, but they certainly felt 5 minutes apart at this point. I didn’t think it was sensible to get Gabby or the cameraman to do a cervical check to make certain, but I had to be prepared in case things took a rapid turn. I inwardly sighed. I had the choice to cancel and go home - if I could make it driving in my current state, or this could be an excellent marketing opportunity for the business. It would just mean giving birth on camera. That  couldn’t be so bad,  could  it? The business didn’t have any similar promotional material as all the videos of births I’d attended were kept by the parents.

“Can I make a suggestion?” I spoke as Gabby gave up looking.

“Sure my dear, I’m always open to suggestions.”

“How about I call my husband? He’s certainly sturdy. Most of the time the labouring positions I recommend involve partners to be present anyway - the flow of oxytocin is helped when you feel loved and supported.”

Gabby nodded. “How far away is he? We’re not in any real rush as this is the only recording of the day, but I’m just thinking of practicalities here - how about using Matt, our cameraman - he’s here right now and I’m sure we could set the camera up to capture us all on the stage without him needing to move it?”

I panicked, causing the first word to come out much louder than expected. “No… please. I know he’s just down the road, we were going to get food after the recording. I’d feel more comfortable with him, some of these positions can get quite… intimate.”

Gabby nodded, and I heard Matt breathe a sigh of relief - he certainly didn’t want to be in front of the camera.

I scurried - well, waddled - out of the studio, giving a polite nod to the receptionist outside as I headed to the green room. Opening my purse to grab my phone, I texted the following:

“SOS. Baby coming? Get here.”

I had to take a moment to rest, the next contraction grabbing me in its grip before I had a chance to leave the room. By the time it had finished, my phone had buzzed.

“Shit. On my way. We going home?” I left that unanswered.

I headed back, pushing my phone down my bra so I could keep it with me, and told the receptionist to expect my husband in a few minutes.

As I stepped back into the room and gave Gabby a thumbs up gesture, I suggested “until he gets here, how about some upright movements, like slow dancing? That’s great for loosening the hips and stretching out some key muscles during the labour process.”

Gabby stood in front of me awkwardly as I placed her hands on my hips and put mine on her shoulders. “Now, I’m going to have you put gentle pressure on my hips, squeezing lightly where I have them placed.” She must have been nervous, as her grip tightened painfully, but relaxed when she noticed my wince. “There, that’s good,” I said when she’d found an appropriate pressure.

“It’s not too much?” she asked, just to make sure I wasn’t humoring her after her first attempt.

I shook my head. “No. But communication is key, especially in the earlier stages of labor while talking isn’t too difficult yet. Once it is, hopefully the supporting partners understand the mother well enough that they can recognize what her noises and movements mean and anticipate what she needs without having to verbalize everything.”

My fingers tightened slightly on Gabby’s shoulders as another contraction ramped up and my head dipped low between us—if we were more comfortable with each other, it would be resting on her chest as she helped support my weight.

“And what are you doing now?” she asked to the back of my head.

I tried to bite back any irritation—it’s not like Gabby knew this was anything more than a demonstration—and catch my breath enough to answer. Through gritted teeth I managed, “When a laboring mother is having a contraction, bending and swaying can take some of the pressure off her lower back and overall just makes it easier to breathe and focus.”

“Oh, so you’re ’having a contraction’ right now.” I could hear the air quotes in her tone, but nodded anyway. “Then would something like this maybe feel good for you?”

She repositioned her hands slightly, somehow both squeezing and massaging the tense muscles and I let out an obscene sound that probably belonged more in a barnyard than a television studio.

Gabby chuckled. “I guess so.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, slightly embarrassed now that the contraction was easing up, and looked up at her. “Baby’s pretty heavy. You’re sure you’ve never done this before? That was masterful.”

She beamed at the compliment. “I do like to think I have a way of observing and playing off of my guests honestly in the moment.”

I briefly detailed the anatomical flow of contractions and why what I was doing and what she did worked so well to take the edge off, but it wasn’t long before we returned to our previous positions. My noises were becoming a little too realistic, but before Gabby could comment there was the sound of a door being flung open.

“I guess my husband is here,” I said into Gabby’s chest.

She hummed in affirmation, but then asked, “Why does he look like he misplaced his child at an amusement park?”

I supposed I had my own lack of text response to blame for that.

Matt looked over to see who everyone was talking about. Stood framed in the doorway was a 6 foot 6 giant of a man, and then as he glanced back at me and my relatively tiny 5 foot 3 inch frame… his brain suddenly realised just why my pregnant belly was so, so big.

In the doorway the man stood with a baby carrier / car seat in one hand and a bag in the other.

Both Matt and Gabby recognised him immediately. Matt was the first to speak.

“Bruce Curtis… whoa man. I’m a major fan.”

Bruce was a well-known tennis player, but he was not one for public appearances and was very private. Up until this point the marriage of a world class sportsman and a celebrated childbirth professional and author had not been public knowledge.

“Hi. Thanks. Just here to see my wife” he announced, as he spotted me in Gabby's arms. “Got your birth bag Jess… don’t know what you would need.”

Before anyone could comment on the obvious reference of birth bag to question it, I moaned out loud, grasping hard onto Gabby’s clothing as the worst pain yet held on to my midsection, feeling something like I was being squeezed in every point at once.

It took a monumental effort to stay standing.

Gabby’s eyes went wide with shock as she suddenly spurted out “wait… this is real?”

I was left short of breath after the surprise contraction, but managed a hum to at least acknowledge the fact that yes, I was in labour.

Surprisingly Gabby’s eyes lit up and her lips parted with a grin. “This… is… amazing! Wait… you’re bringing your bag here… does that mean you aren’t heading off? Are we getting an exclusive first look at the newest addition to your family?”

I managed to raise my head enough to look Gabby in the eyes. I certainly hadn’t recovered from the last contraction and was mentally trying to figure out if I had gone insane, but I confirmed it.

“Yeah. I think I’m having a precipitous labor. In the last hour I’ve experienced things that often take 8… maybe 10 hours for a first-time mother. I don’t think I can make it back home in time. Please help me.” My tone was pleading as much as anything else, all semblance of hiding the truth now gone.

In between all of this, Bruce had placed the bag and baby carrier on the ground and made his way over to me, concern evident in his eyes. He took me in his arms as I turned away from Gabby and gave me an embrace that had his long arms wrapped tight around me, even with the large mound at my midsection taking up space between us.

“Here we go baby. Daddy’s here” he spoke softly to me. Gabby and Matt just looked at each other, shock and confusion stilling their movement. They were unsure what to do given the situation, it certainly wasn’t what they were expecting to happen at the start of the show.

I tried not to panic. The contractions were already right on top of each other and at this rate it likely wouldn’t be long before I was beyond words and coherent sentences.

“I’m sorry, precipitous labor?” Gabby said. “What does that mean? Is it dangerous? Do we need to call an ambulance?”

It was riskier, but this was happening right here right now one way or another, and I wasn’t going to tell her that.

“A precipitous labor is when labor and delivery happen very quickly, a couple hours from start to finish,” Bruce supplied, saving me from having to answer. Gabby and Matt must have worn some shocked expression because he added, “What? My wife likes to talk about her work.”

I could almost hear the two of them putting Bruce on an even loftier pedestal. But I couldn’t blame them—he was pretty perfect. Other than his genetics producing a freakishly large fetus that I would somehow now need to birth with very little time for my body to stretch and prepare.

“Alright, what can we do?” Gabby asked, fully on board with her unexpected involvement.

I gasped and buried my face into Bruce’s chest as he held up a finger to indicate that they would need to wait a minute for an answer. I tried to breathe and relax like I’d instructed so many mothers before me, but the pain and pressure had just gotten so intense so quickly. I just barely managed to keep from crying out as the wave crested and broke, but I wasn’t sure how much more I could endure calmly and collectedly.

My throat was hoarse, and I cleared it before turning to answer. “Once my water breaks, the baby’s head will descend quickly. The baby is big,” I looked accusatorially up at Bruce for the 11-12 pound range we were given as an estimate, “and I would like to open and prepare my body as much as possible to limit the possibility of complications.”

The next contraction snuck up on me, and I groaned, my knees bending as I leaned forward. Gabby instinctively held out her arms and I grabbed onto her forearms as I got down into a squat. But the position only increased the internal pressure and I yelped, shaking my head. She pulled me up, with Bruce’s help, and I went back to ‘slow dancing’ with her while Bruce held me from behind, lifting some of the weight of my massive belly from my spine.

I pointed at the chair and Bruce dragged it over to me. With some more assistance, I got one leg up onto the chair in an almost side lunge. It was a little awkward, but I loved how open it made me feel.

“Why do you keep changing positions? And why is this one good?” Gabby asked, and I wasn’t sure whether she was still in interview mode or just genuinely curious and invested now.

“This allows my pelvis to really open up, while also maintaining freedom of movement if I need to adjust. Baby needs to get into position too, and the more I move, the easier that is.”

Even this quick explanation was almost too much for me because now I was winded going into the next contraction. There really was no buildup for them, they just crashed full force into me, and I was sure I would’ve lost my balance if Bruce and Gabby didn’t have me on both sides.

Despite all my breath work and vocalizations, my body was pushing against something on its own and I cried out as it pressed behind and stretched my unprepared opening.

“What is it, baby?” Bruce asked softly, unfazed by my animalistic noises.

I panted in an attempt to keep my body’s instincts in check. “Need. Someone. To check,” I managed between puffs of air.

“I don’t suppose you’re okay with nudity on this show?” Bruce asked.

There was a pause, then Gabby said, “We can edit it in post.”

I hiked up my dress, gathering the fabric at the top of my oversized mound. As I waited for Gabby and Bruce to decide who would do the honors, I could only hope that it was just the intact amniotic sac and not the baby’s head.

I could tell Gabby was itching to get involved, but Bruce was the first to speak.

“Let’s get this leg down and get those knickers off” he said, almost playfully, considering the circumstances.

He tapped me on the raised knee which was perched on the chair for emphasis.

I groaned as I dropped my leg to the floor, but quick as a flash, Bruce had dragged my underwear to the floor, and bundled it up into a ball in his fist and stuffed it into his pocket.

“There we go. First step completed. Now onto the appetiser”. He was still smiling, completely unfazed, wiggling a finger in the air. “Let’s just hope we get some time to digest before it’s time for the main course!”

I cough-laughed, his lighthearted attitude helping alleviate the stress, as Gabby was caught giggling.

My leg got lifted onto the chair again as Bruce directed my hand onto his shoulder, and he got down to his knees. I suddenly felt the slip of 2 fingers enter into me as I grunted “contraction” and gripped tight hold of the polo top he was wearing.

His fingers continued to press in deeper, as my moan reached a crescendo, the contraction rapid and rough in its approach.

Suddenly there was a release, and water gushed down Bruce’s arm. I turned red, and let out a yelp at the unexpected sensation.

Bruce looked up apologetically. “Your waters were bulging. I might have been a bit rough. Sorry, baby!”

At the same time, Gabby flinched at the sight of the liquid pooling around my feet. “What’s that?” She asked.

I took a deep, steadying breath. Taking a moment longer I started, “It’s amniotic fluid. Think of it like a shock absorber around your baby. Keeps it safe in the womb.” Gabby had nodded, taking in the knowledge whilst staring at the pool which was now soaking into the carpet.

I continued. “It’s good that it’s clear. No sign of blood or meconium is positive.”

“And that is…?” Asked Gabby.

“Baby’s first poop” came the voice of Bruce as I responded by patting him on the shoulder, my fingers no longer clenched.

With the water bag burst, I felt Bruce’s probing fingers within me. I gave a little gasp as Bruce’s fingers slid out from between my legs and he announced “You’re about 7 or 8. Almost go time.”

My head shook “it’s too fast, it’s too fast.” My mantra got Gabby more than a little worried.

“What’s the problem?” She asked, nervously glancing up to Matt, her eyes giving a nonverbal ‘have we gotten in too deep here, is something going wrong?’ look.

I grit my teeth, knowing another contraction was ramping up. “8cm typically brings the transition phase. It can be the most demanding part before pushing, and most mothers tend to go inwards, be non-verbal at that time… I… I…”. That was all I could manage, the next sound out of my mouth was a haunting wail as my body forced me to bend to what it wanted at the time.

Bruce stood up, grabbing my hand from his shoulder and letting me squeeze his own hand as tight as I possibly could. He wrapped his other arm around my own shoulder and I pressed my head into his in return. I felt the press of wetness into his top. I wasn’t sure if I was sweating with how tough it had been for me so far, or if I was simply shedding tears.

Gabby came in behind me and tugged at my dress, slipping it back over my bump and watching it flow down to my legs once more.

Any relief I might have felt with the breaking of my waters was short-lived. The amniotic sac, at least, was filled with fluid and therefore more forgiving. Now that it was gone, I could feel the baby’s head descending at an alarming rate, and it was all huge unyielding skull.

The new weight settling deep into my pelvis sharpened the pain in my back and rectum. I twisted and squirmed into various positions and postures, but nothing seemed to alleviate the intensity of the pressure there. At one point, I ended up on my knees on the chair cushion that had been placed on the floor, sobbing into Bruce’s shoulder because there was no relief—if anything, it was only getting worse.

“Hurts. It hurts,” I mumbled over and over again into the wet fabric of his shirt.

“I know, baby,” he said softly, sympathetically, stroking my hair and kissing my temple. “What can I do?”

“My back. My, my s-sacrum,” I could barely get out the words. “Feels like I’m gonna break in two.” I cried out again as the contraction peaked and then rolled right into the next one with no break in between. “Counter-ngh-pressure.”

Bruce locked eyes with Gabby, then looked down at my back, then back up to her. He inclined his head to indicate that she could—and, in fact, should—be doing something to assist.

“Open your hand and press your palm flat against the base of her spine,” he instructed.

She touched me lightly, but it was more in the lumbar region and far too delicate to do anything against the strength of my contracting muscles.

“Lower,” I growled, and she startled a bit before adjusting her position. “And harder. Please,” I added in what I hoped was a less feral tone.

She put a good amount of body weight behind her hand and finally, finally, it didn’t feel like my coccyx was about to snap off. I whimpered, this time crying for even the smallest amount of relief, and Bruce gave her a thumbs up.

I wanted to move, but it felt impossible to close my legs even a fraction of an inch, so I settled for just shifting and circling my hips whenever I got twitchy. To her credit, Gabby followed my various cat/cows and figure 8s perfectly, and even started experimenting with pressure and position and kneading the muscles around my spine, paying attention to my reactions to continue with what worked and stop what didn’t.

It was maybe 20 minutes of nonstop contractions before no amount of movement or counterpressure could lessen the pain. Everything in my body was tightening, forcing the pressure in on itself and down through my core—a coiled spring ready to flip a switch in my brain that would force me to start pushing whether I was ready or not.

But I wasn’t ready. I was supposed to have a calm, leisurely home birth surrounded by professionals and people I trusted. I was supposed to have music and a bath and- and time. Most of all, I was supposed to have time.

“I- can’t- do- this-“ I half-panted, half-sobbed between gasping breaths. It was the same thing I’d heard from many laboring mothers before, but I never truly understood how true it must have felt for them until now. “I want an epidural. I want a c-section. Anything but this. I can’t- I can’t- I—“

My desperate pleas were cut off by a scream that left my body shaking and my throat raw and hoarse.

“How can I make this easier for you?” Bruce asked in that same infuriatingly calm tone.

It grated on my nerves and I snapped, “Push out your own big-headed fucking kid.” Then, feeling contrite, “Sorry, I’m- god, it just hurts so much.”

I could feel the chuckle behind his lips as he kissed me. “I’m a professional athlete—I’ve heard worse from 10 year olds on the internet. It’ll take a lot more than a jab from my beloved laboring wife to hurt my feelings.”

The urge to push slammed into me with enough force to knock the air from my lungs. I collapsed against Bruce’s chest as both my arms wrapped around my impossibly taut stomach. “Fuck, fuck, oh god, FUCK!” My profanities dissolved into an incoherent wail as I put every ounce of willpower into not pushing with the unbearable instinct.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Gabby’s frantic voice asked from behind me.

“If I had to guess,” Bruce said over my howling, “I’d say she’s hit 10 centimeters.”

“And what happens at 10 centimeters? I can guess… but humour me?” asked Gabby.

“I… I need to push. I gotta push!” came my wailing cry as if in response.

“Pretty much that” quipped Bruce. He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me, gently shifting me around so I was sat on my ass on the cushion. He wrapped his arms around my neck and over my shoulders, whispering close to my ear so that only I could hear it.

Affirmative words like ‘you can do it baby’ and ‘let it happen, you know you can do it’ came from his mouth into my ears and, despite every nerve in my body being on edge, I managed to relax into his wrapped arms.

I breathed out a calming mouthful of air, trying to regain my composure between contractions.

“I only have a few moments,” I managed, “then the next contraction will hit, and I’ll be pushing. This is the pushing phase, I have to get the head and body of the baby past my

lips…” I trailed off as I parted my legs, raising my knees, and groaned as my chin dipped down to my chest, making contact with Bruce’s hands pressed against my collarbone. My dress skirt was tented but still covered any view the camera may have had - right now the shot was of a dishevelled mother-to-be wrapped in the arms of her husband, sweat-matted hair plastered to her face.

“Lips…?” It was Matt to ask.

Bruce waggled his finger and pointed downwards, aimed squarely between my legs.

“Oh…” of course Matt knew how the process of birth happened, it’s just right here, right now with things happening in front of him, he was simply dumbstruck.

Gabby kneeled down in front of me, between my legs. “Can I help?” she enquired.

I couldn’t answer, right now I was pushing, and no force in the world was going to interrupt me from that task.

It was a good thing Bruce was able to infuse some of his calm energy into me because, as soon as the next contraction hit, the rest of the world faded away. The only thing I could hear was my own primal grunting; the only thing I could feel was the ballooning pressure spreading me wide from the inside out; the only thing I could think was ‘push, push, push’.

But I might as well have been trying to push over a concrete wall. The baby’s head was low and heavy and full, but my body was still adjusting to its presence and would not budge until it was ready to release. No matter how great the force of the instinct to bear down, the fact was that the enormous head still had to somehow fit through my narrow opening. Preferably without tearing me open.

“I need… gravity,” I panted out in the brief break between contractions.

Sitting directly on my tailbone was not helping the pressure in my hips and ass, but I was too exhausted to fully stand and kneeling would not open my hips wide enough to allow my giant of a husband’s baby to engage properly in the birth canal.

“Where do you want me?” Bruce asked, arms still around me ready to pull me into whatever position I requested.

“Chair. Behind,” I grunted as my stomach began to tighten again.

Despite the lack of cushion, he dutifully sat on the chair and pulled me up between his bent knees. Positioning myself toward the end of his thighs, I could use them to lean on as I got my feet under me in a very deep squat while still allowing my knees to flare out as far as they needed to in front of his shins.

The edge of my dress came up over my knees, but pooled and draped over my pussy, obscuring anything that might be going on between my legs as I pushed. My milk-filled breasts pooled over my heavy, dragging belly and it all felt too contained, too restrictive in these clothes that were never meant to give birth in. I wanted nothing more than to take them off, to let my natural naked body move and flow whatever way it wanted, but there was no way I could articulate that desire in any coherent way at the moment. Instead, it presented itself as a whine, an uncomfortable shifting of knees and hips and back, a throwing back of my head onto his knee as Bruce fanned my flushed face.

“You’re doing great, baby,” he praised, running his fingers through my tangled mess of hair and gently massaging my scalp.

“What can I do?” Gabby repeated once I had come back to myself. “Should I help coach you? Maybe count down from 10?”

I shook my head, not really having the energy to explain but desperate to dispel this clinical, controlled image of pushing. “They do that a lot in hospital settings, along with having the laboring mother lying on her back with her legs in stirrups, but that is for the doctor’s benefit, not the mother’s, and it often causes more harm than good.” I hummed, which turned into a moan as the baby’s head slipped down another millimeter. “Luckily, healthcare professionals are starting to recognize the benefits of mother-led labor and delivery, including spontaneous pushing.”

“No doubt in part due to the popularity of your books and the experiences of the women in those stories,” Gabby said, ever the interviewer.

I turned and whimpered into Bruce’s thigh, lightly tapping and squeezing his generous athletic muscles.

“I think that means ‘thank you, that’s very generous of you to say, but I’m also just one of many advocates working to raise awareness and empathy for this important issue’.” He leaned down to stage whisper to me, “How’d I do?”

I gave a thumbs up without bothering to lift my head, only half-listening to either of them, but Bruce had seen enough of my press junkets to know what I would say.

Feeling how tightly my fingers were digging into him, how tense and still I was, Bruce suggested, “Maybe we could try making the room a little more relaxing? Dim the lights, put on some music, tell her how good she’s doing.” Then, leaning down to me again, over my strained whine, “That’s right, mama. That’s my girl, opening up so good for our baby.”

Gabby cleared her throat. “Maybe I’ll leave that last one to you,” she said.

I heard her heels click and then the brightness behind my closed eyes darkened. When I opened them, the only light in the room was the lamp on the side table, normally just meant to add warmth and character to the set. More clicks, this time her nails against her phone, and some low-fi music began playing and she set the device in the background next to the lamp.

I finally lifted my head, wrapping an arm beneath my heavy belly and adjusting my stance with a wince and a deep, exhausted, exasperated puff of air. Bruce’s hands were kneading my shoulders, so I was surprised when I felt a gentle touch on my knee and found Gabby knelt down in front of me.

She used her other hand to cover mine where it rested on my stomach as she said, “You’re doing great, Jessica. Really.”

Tears flowed freely from my eyes now, the sensations were overwhelming, and the simple act of kindness and sincerity from Gabby pushed me over the edge.

Of course, my body had its own agenda, and within seconds I was once again pushing, grunting and groaning along with my body clenching within me, all towards its goal of expelling the child held within me.

I pressed Gabby’s hand into my belly, and she felt the skin of my midsection tighten as the contraction flowed through me, the belly shrinking until it seemed as if it wrapped tightly around the mass of baby inside.

My grunt as the contraction peaked turned into moans of pain - nothing unusual in that by now - but Gabby did notice the time I was making the most noise seemed to be getting longer and longer as each contraction passed.

Finally, it passed, and I was left panting for air. I managed a weak “this is tougher than I imagined it would be. No amount of seeing this happening prepares you.”

I took a few seconds to gather my breath and next, I spoke out, directing to no one in particular, “I have some puppy pads in the birth bag - can someone spread some of them out around the floor. There should be a plastic sheet too. I think it could get messy soon, and I don’t want to be responsible for cleaning this place.” I managed a weak laugh.

“I need to stand again, stretch my back” I advised, as between Bruce and Gabby they got me to my feet. Matt had left his post at the camera and grabbed the supplies I asked for, laying them out. It took a bit of stepping in and around him, but soon the floor was covered. I noted the cushion I had kneeled on earlier was underneath the plastic tarpaulin-like sheet now - making a mental note so I didn’t trip over the small hill it created.

I fell into Gabby’s arms as the next contraction hit me unexpectedly. I wasn’t prepared and could do nothing but wail. Bruce came in behind, kneading my lower back, but I swatted his hand away. I managed a growling command of “dress off, now” as Matt looked over at Gabby, who in turn shrugged.

Bruce pulled the fabric up over my ass, exposing my naked legs to the camera, shoved it over my head, and between Bruce and Gabby they moved one arm at a time until the dress fell to the floor between me and Gabby.

I was naked now except for my bra. And right now, I couldn’t care less. Right now I was cooled down, the studio air conditioning chilling my sweat-streaked back.

That was when I realised I was standing with my legs apart. My fingers dropped down and I felt my vulva. I was bulging. I finally felt progress!

The relief must have been evident on my face because Gabby asked, “Can you feel the head?”

Ohhh, could I feel it. But I knew that wasn’t what she meant. “Not exactly. I can feel the shape of the head stretching out behind the skin, but probably not visible yet.”

I thought I heard Matt mutter something to himself about that being a lot of work and noise for not even being able to see the baby yet, but Gabby was speaking over him. “Can I— I mean, would it be alright if I… you know, took a peek?” She pointed down between my legs, as if it wasn’t obvious where she was asking about.

Normally I would have shied away from allowing someone I barely knew down there, but we were short on hands in this scenario and I figured it was inevitable. I nodded, “Quickly,” and the grunting noises started again as my knees bent into a half squat. My huge globe of a belly shrank and tightened with the contraction, outlining the dips and hollows around the large baby still inside it.

Gabby knelt down on one knee to be able to see around my stomach, and I held onto her shoulders for stability as Bruce drove his knuckles into my bare back.

“Oh wow,” Gabby said as she watched the effects of my pushes. “The baby’s head must be right there; I can see it dome out between your legs whenever you push.” Then, after doing some quick mental math, she asked, “Are you sure… like, is it going to fit through there? That’s a big head; it doesn’t seem physically possible.”

It didn’t quite seem that way to me either at the moment, but it’s not like I had a choice. “It always—hoo—feels impossible—hngh—until it isn’t,” I managed between heaves and moans. The makeshift waterproofing on the floor kept sticking to my feet and pulling up anytime I moved and I kicked at it in frustration several times before concluding, “I need to sit.”

The cushion was trapped on the floor, but Bruce volunteered to be my seat. He positioned himself on the chair first and then I sat on his lap, draping my legs around the outside of his thighs while he kept his open enough to keep my pussy open and exposed. He was tall enough that he still towered over me, and his arms were able to wrap around my front, belly and all, and coming to rest on my inner thighs, spreading and gently kneading them in an attempt to get me to relax.

There was nothing left to the imagination anymore for the people in the room—if Matt lowered the camera a foot or two he’d have a front row view. As it was, he kept a more tasteful side profile at an elevated angle so that my stomach obscured any of the graphic bits. But if things had gone to plan, we would have had a birth photographer present in the room, and so I had Bruce slip Matt both our phones to set up to record the more closeup shots. My own phone was sweaty to the touch because of being stuffed in my bra against my overheated skin, so Matt had to give it a good wipedown on the fabric of his shirt upon receiving it.

“I’m gonna ask for a raise,” he said as he mounted the devices to some small tripods and adjusted them to an appropriate angle, a slight blush coloring his cheeks as he zoomed in for one of the captures.

I chuckled and then gasped  “Fuck!”, the suddenness and intensity of the next contraction somehow still managing to take me by surprise. I threw my head back against Bruce’s solid chest and he kissed my temple as I pushed, my fingers digging into his forearms where they rested on my thighs while his hands moved to my center to gently coax back the emerging volcano forming between my legs. His thumb brushed against my clit and I gasped again, and this time it was my turn to go red.

I knew arousal was an effective pain management technique, but most clients were always too self-conscious to actually try it out in the delivery room surrounded by people. Despite knowing it was nothing to be ashamed of, I still tried to muffle my noises any time he grazed the sensitive nub.

I leaned forward, my breaths heaving, and gave a guttural cry as the instinct to bear down overwhelmed everything else and the first hints of burning teased my opening.

“I think- yes, I see the head!” Gabby exclaimed.

I managed to punctuate my grunting pushes with a small nod as I took in Gabby’s words. I knew myself she was about to get a rude awakening into the process of birth, but couldn’t get the words out. I knew I’d have a chance to explain but finally as the contraction relented I heard her give a disappointed cry as she exclaimed “where did it go” a few moments later.

I was hoarse and needed a drink. It was evident in my voice, I was raspy. I soldiered on, however, and explained, “Think of it like waves. They slosh forward and then draw back. Like the tides, eventually the high tide comes in and you’re up to your ankles in seawater.”

Gabby looked a bit confused at that analogy and asked, “So, the baby doesn’t just keep on coming stretching you wider and wider until it pops out?”

I shook my head. “No. It pokes out a bit, goes back in, pushes out a little more. Eventually it won’t retreat anymore and will be there permanently. Eventually it pokes out to its widest point…”

I was cut short by the next contraction, and I closed my mouth, trying not to irritate my throat further. Closed-lip pushing did not feel like it was giving me anywhere near enough air flow, and I frustratingly gave up, back to an open-mouthed moan.

However, because it was different to my previous pushes, Gabby thought it was just me taking a breath. She continued “and what happens then?” That’s when she saw the peeling back of my lips, the top of baby’s scalp showing once more and then following that, my moan coming through. She shut up and placed a hand on my ankle giving it a gentle pat. She stared as the head once more retreated.

“Crowning,” I finally replied as I caught my breath. “And the ring of fire.”

“That doesn’t sound fun.” Gabby gave a worried look into my eyes.

“It’s not, but it only lasts moments. I’ve heard it’s a rite of passage. I’m certainly not looking forward to it,” I managed. Finally, I asked:  “can I get some water, please? My throat feels like it’s burning.”

Gabby apologised, realising just how bad my voice sounded. She was too intensely focused on the action between my legs. She dashed out of the studio, and suddenly it was just us two and Matt, who was doing his best to have a camera as a shield between himself and the messy situation developing between my legs.

“So… err… anything else you guys need?” he asked. Bruce smiled and looked up. “I guess an epidural is out of the question?”

“Sorry all out of those” Matt gave a grin back as the humour helped lighten the tension in the room a little.

I was soon pushing again, hands digging into Bruce’s thighs as I grunted “that’s OK I wanted it to be natural anyway”. The end syllable elongated into a ‘aaaaaaaaay’ noise as the contraction did what it had to do and once more, at least for 30 seconds or so, I was overcome by my natural instincts  and lost all sense of the world around me.

When I regained my composure again, I found Gabby standing next to me, glass of water in hand - and she’d remembered a straw to make it easier to sip it.

After a pull on the straw, my smile was evident. “Thanks, that feels so good.”

The exhaustion caught up with me then, the immediate need to quench my thirst satiated enough for me to really feel just how tired my body was. It made sense—it was working overtime to condense days’ worth of effort into just a couple hours. And, even though the instinct to push was strong, progress was slow, and my mind was beginning to doubt.

“I need to rest for a bit,” I announced, untangling myself from Bruce’s limbs to put my feet flat on the floor.

Both Matt and Gabby looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “How are you possibly going to do that?” she asked.

“Wanna lie down on my side.” The cushion was still there on the floor, if slightly buried, and I looked between it and Bruce pleadingly.

“Am I to be your pillow then?” he guessed, and I nodded.

“Please.”

He kissed my neck and gave my thigh a gentle squeeze. “Anything for you, love.” Then, Bruce got down on the floor above the cushion, helping me down before sprawling out to be used however I needed.

My hip rested on the cushion while my top half splayed across Bruce’s considerable mass. My belly spilled out over his body and we both had a hand rested on it, while one leg rested on the floor to give some stability. The other leg was bent up with my knee toward the ceiling in an attempt to keep my hips open, but it wasn’t quite enough and so my foot just kind of dangled helplessly in the air until Gabby took hold of it.

“Want me to hold your leg up?” she offered.

“You’re a saint,” I breathed, glad to have found purchase.

She grinned and hooked my knee over her shoulder, leaning back and settling herself on the floor next to me once we’d found a good position where I could rest even as my body continued to work.

I let the next several contractions just roll over me, through me, pushing if I needed to but not trying to force anything to move quicker than it naturally wanted to—the tippy top of the baby’s head might have breached my opening, but there was still a long way to go before the rest of it would fit through there and I didn’t want to exhaust myself before the effort truly began.

The back and forth peekaboo game would have been maddening were it not for Bruce and Gabby’s gentle touches and whispers of encouragement. Bruce told me how beautiful and amazing and strong I was while Gabby gave a play by play of everything happening between my legs—first a dime size peek, then a quarter; then she ran out of coin analogies and switched to a golf ball, a tennis ball, a baseball. Every time my opening got wider, the head pushing out further, but every time I stopped pushing it would get sucked back into the depths of my tight folds.

“I need to move again,” I huffed as I felt the head slip back in for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Rest time over?” Gabby asked, and I almost scoffed because how could I have possibly thought I could rest when the baby was so close to being born.

“Something like that,” I said with a bit of bitterness. “Hands and knees, please.”

Because Bruce was still under me, Gabby and Matt helped pull me to a more seated position and I hissed at the added pressure that put on the baby lodged deep in my hips. But I transitioned quickly, now kneeling on the cushion over Bruce’s body, still using him as a pillow.

My legs widened until my pussy was just a few inches above the floor and everything felt so much more open like this. It was as if something shifted, just a millimeter or two, as the next contraction barreled through my core, the head shooting forward as I pushed, the pressure and burning nearly unbearable. I howled, the sound only slightly muffled against Bruce’s clothes, releasing the push and taking frantic breaths, waiting, desperate for the relief of the head retreating back inside, but the terrible stretch remained.

The head was staying put.

Gabby sounded frantic. “Are you ok? That sounded painful.” I blew out a breath, trying to regain composure. The exhale lasted for a good 5 or 6 seconds, which to me didn’t seem to help much but to those looking in, seemed to last a long time. I shook my head, clearing away the cobwebs, and explained the situation.

“Think of it like trying to squeeze your hand into a very tight glove… but in reverse. You’re the glove.” My  hand patted Bruce as a way to keep my mind focused. “If you get it so far in, and let go, you’ll feel it squeeze you tight but it won’t… hurt, per se… but if you pull on it you’ll feel it tugging your skin. Right now my skin is being pulled… tight… when the contraction pushes the baby out of from between my legs. And to be blunt, it hurts like hell.”

Gabby let out a nervous chuckle. “That does not sound fun. Is this position you’re in comfortable?”

I shook my head, not wanting to point out the obvious. “Nothing is comfortable, but this allows me to widen my hips, giving more room for the head to emerge.” I felt the next contraction build and let out an apology as I grasped tight onto Bruce’s arms and once again let out a yowling groan, internally counting to 10, taking a breath, then going again.

Gabby got down to her hands and knees, and then lay on the floor, trying to get a good view of the emerging head from underneath me. She let out a frustrated ‘fuck’ - completely forgetting the fact she was on recorded television.

I leaned forward, ass in the air as I panted against Bruce following the aftermath of the contraction, when Gabby gave a little cough.

I turned my head to look at her, not saying anything, but my look suggested she should speak.

“I know I’m not in any sort of position to ask this, but could you flip back over? I can’t see anything in the position you are in.” She sounded genuine, and certainly interested in seeing how things would pan out.

I gave a groan. “Normally I’d berate you. You should never tell a mother-to-be how best to give birth as it should be an entirely mother-led affair. But I appreciate this is a learning experience and a little different to the norm…”

I looked up into Bruce’s eyes. “Can you give me a hand up?”

The next few minutes consisted of a lot of rolling around, getting picked up off the ground, Bruce and Gabby holding me tightly as I stood wide-legged, trying not to close tightly on the emerging head, and a 30-second pause as the next contraction worked its way through me – my head buried into Gabby’s shoulder as I muffled my yowl as a result.

“I need… need to take off my bra. It’s constricting” I whispered to Gabby. Part of me had a moment where I figured whilst I was wearing a bra I wasn’t ‘naked’ and felt that this was a final breaking point where I finally gave in to my base instincts and let the pregnancy take over. I had seen this moment dozens of times with mothers I had helped. It was always the first-timers. Another rite of passage I must go through, I figured.

Gabby didn’t hesitate. Her arms reached behind me, wiggled on the snaps and suddenly the fabric slid off my breasts, sliding down my belly and landing with a plop in front of me.

I stood up in front of Gabby and she couldn’t help but give a little involuntary blink at the sight in front of her. She pictured her own breasts from her shower this morning. Perky, pink-tipped things with tiny nipples. Mine, in comparison, had dark brown-ringed areole, long, puffy nipples almost the size of the end portion of her little finger… and they had stretch marks. She refused to comment, but this was one more physical change she noted was an after effect of the pregnancy.

Another push came upon me, my hands finding Gabby’s shoulders to hold as I dipped into a squatting position, which could be best described as a wide-stanced plié from ballet – my knees bending and my hips dropping low.

My head met her chest, and my groan reverberated through her. As it passed through me, I blew out a breath and looked up at Gabby. “Think I’m ready? Can you help me get down to the floor?”

As Bruce retook his position to give me somewhere to rest against, Gabby held my hands and lowered me down to his thighs. I settled into place as he found the gap between my breasts and belly to hug me close as Gabby got down onto her knees in front of me. She was almost at eye level with my waist and could see all the intimate details of my pussy stretched against the head poking its way out of me.

“It’s starting again” I gave a grunt as my feet found Gabby’s shoulders, using her almost as stirrups, Gabby in turn grabbing my ankles to help brace herself. Bruce changed the position of his hold so he was crossed arms, his left hand grasping my right breast and vice versa. I felt his thumb and forefinger of each hand find my nipples as the sensation caused me to groan, lightning sensations from my sensitive nubs coursing through my body and, somehow, finding their way between my legs.

Gabby sat wide-eyed as the white, compressed head between my tight lips moved a fraction wider as my eyes scrunched tight and tendons on my neck bulged as I gritted my teeth. She had a front and centre view as Matt had brought the camera around to get a straight on view of me all from above her head. I knew the head must have been almost out, the burning sensation had been growing and growing with each contraction since I had been on my hands and knees.

“How much- of the head- is out?” I managed between panted breaths, trying to focus on the pleasure of Bruce’s hands in the brief respite between contractions.

Gabby formed her hands into a circle that was far smaller than it had any right to be. “About this much.” She studied the remaining bulge behind the visible ring. “Still looks like there’s a lot left to go.”

An annoyed growl rumbled through me and Bruce soothed me with his touch. I wasn’t upset with Gabby, per se, more at my own ineffectiveness. Maybe it was silly, but part of me really believed that I would be better at this, that it would be easier for me because of what

I did and what I knew. But nothing was happening like it was supposed to, and as quick as the labor had been, the second stage seemed to be taking an eternity.

I knew I’d agreed to it, but this position was really not doing me any favors. My hips were pressed awkwardly into the ground and, the full weight of my stomach adding to the painful pressure despite the buried cushion. My feet on Gabby’s shoulders helped keep me open wide, but she was unpracticed and the angle wasn’t always quite right—she leaned forward as I bore down, pushed my knees so far up and out that they were pinned on either side of my belly, emphasizing the enormity of its curve.

“Wow, you are really working hard,” Gabby said suddenly, temporarily removing one of her hands from my ankle to lay on the surface of my tight stomach as I pushed. “You can actually see your whole stomach move up and down as you push.”

Matt moved the camera in closer, changing the angle slightly to better capture the way my belly scrunched up, its peak becoming sharper and higher even as the whole thing moved further down my body. It must have been quite a sight, getting every primal feminine bump—belly, breasts, and pussy—on full display, each heavy and full and straining with the process of giving birth.

Gravity was not on my side, and I could feel myself working harder than before to make any kind of progress. If the head had already truly crowned it would have been easier, but there was still a bit more stretching to do.

“Come on, girl, you’ve got this,” Gabby said, giving my ankles an encouraging rub even as I whined in frustration.

I reached down between my legs as I pushed again, pressing lightly against my distended clit as it stretched around the baby’s massive head. “Need help stretching,” I realized after several contractions with no progress.

“Wha- how?” Gabby asked, quickly going from confused to eager.

I moved my hand lower, tracing the outline of my stretched lips. “Here. If you can-“ I didn’t know how to explain, so I demonstrated the delicate motion that would push the thin skin further around the bulge.

“Doesn’t that… hurt?” she asked when I winced and hissed.

“Only a bit,” I lied, biting my lip to keep from crying out. This was necessary, and she might hesitate if she knew how much it fucking hurt. “I can’t reach with both hands.”

Gabby still looked skeptical, but I grabbed her hands and guided them to my opening. “Good thing I keep my nails trimmed short,” she commented, testing the give in my skin around the head and surprised that there was still any give.

I groaned, indicating that the next contraction was starting. I positioned Bruce’s hands back to cup my breasts, silently communicating my needs, before reaching back behind my head to grab onto Bruce’s shoulders in an imitation of how I might be holding onto our headboard if I was giving birth at home in our bed.

With the first brush of Bruce’s fingers against my nipples, the pain of the contraction skyrocketed, and I couldn’t stop the wail that came up my throat.

Bruce’s touches turned gentle, coaxing, as he instructed Gabby to, “Keep going, that means it’s working.”

I could’ve kissed him if I didn’t also want to strangle him—childbirth was complicated. Because Gabby’s hands were otherwise occupied, Bruce took over keeping my legs pulled back as I curled around my contracting stomach, face turning red and veins popping as I threw everything I had into the push. The burning stretch was almost so intense that the pain was numbed—almost—and finally I could feel when it crested as I reached a full crown.

I took a couple desperate breaths, but refused to lose the momentum. If I was still on my hands and knees, the rest of the head might have slipped out easily. As it was, it took several more long, hard pushes to get past the eyes, nose, mouth, and then finally the chin. Gabby’s cheers mixed with my cries as a gush of fluids erupted from between my legs. The floor, at least, was mostly waterproofed. Gabby, not so much. But she was all smiles as she cupped the newborn head in her hands.

The relief from the pressure and pain may have felt better than any orgasm, right there and then, at that minute. My head sank back into Bruce and I revelled in the success for just a brief moment.

There was still the shoulders and the body, I reminded myself. Not over yet.

I tuned back into the room as Gabby was making all sorts of celebratory noises to the room in general, and I felt the soft touches of her fingers probing around at the head between my legs.

“Feel for the cord” I announced, though my voice likely came out a lot quieter than expected in the general ruckus of the room.

“Come again?” Asked Gabby, her eyes and focus back on my face rather than my lower half.

“Check for the umbilical cord, should be nice and loose, not trapped. Baby still gets oxygen from my placenta until he’s fully out and he takes his first breath,” my voice recovered and explained - admittedly punctuated with heavy breathing, trying to recover from my ordeal.

Gabby gave a nod as I felt her fingers press deeper into my sore opening, to around the baby’s neck. I felt her finger hook over the cord and give a tug. The sensation felt completely alien to having it all happen with me rather than my acting on it externally, but I felt a warmth by the fact that I felt the cord pull away, suggesting it wasn’t caught tight.

“Seems to be loose” Gabby said. “Though I don’t know how much I should pull?”

“No… no, that’s enough” I gave a smile as response, which was soon replaced by a wincing grunt as the next contraction built up on me.

I pressed down into my hips, splaying my pelvic opening wide as I did an experimental push, feeling the shoulders press me from the inside. I reached down with a hand and felt the head, my fingers brushing against Gabby, who seemed reluctant to let go.

I pushed, harder than I expected if I was going to be honest with myself, and felt a popping sensation as the baby’s lower shoulder slipped out from between my legs.

My hand felt the baby’s chest fill it as it slid out, and I maintained the pressure of the push. The second shoulder gave a slick sound as it slid out of me, and suddenly I had half a baby out of me.

“Do I pull? Do you push?” Gabby was flustered, however I was unable to answer. I shook my head, a gesture that meant nothing in the context of what she just asked, but when she didn’t act on her own accord, I doubled down, taking a breath and pushing again as I felt the baby’s belly widening my opening until a strange slithering sensation followed as the baby’s long legs and feet slipped past my lips.

Suddenly it was all over. I was breathing hard, stunned into silence. Holding a hand onto my baby’s belly as Gabby did the manual handling work and lifted my baby up to my belly. My hand was suddenly clutching the wriggling form tight to my skin as a gurgling sound was soon followed by a piercing wail as the baby took its first breaths.

Gabby suddenly burst into tears - and both me and Bruce soon followed, the emotion of the moment taking over any sensible training I may have previously considered should the roles be reversed.

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Hi! I discovered your blog (both versions, actually) a few days ago and have since devoured the content. Love your writing style and how you play with tropes, mixing and matching seamlessly. I also noticed a post where you said you're open to interacting with blogs that are not exclusively geared towards birth stories. I have a general interest blog, but I do enjoy writing stories featuring pregnancy and birth as well. I'm trying to promote my recent works on here, so could you please help me reach more people? From what I understand, the community is pretty tight-knit. I'd like to join in some capacity, but my blog is new and I'm new to Tumblr (I post more on Twitter). I post my works in full on AO3, so I'm going to leave those links here as well. Have a lovely day/night, and I really hope for our Tumblr paths to cross at some point. 🌼🪻

Links

- Tumblr sneak peek posts

https://www.tumblr.com/highlyrelevantnumber/814440083404013568/sammel-fic-the-seventh-floor?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/highlyrelevantnumber/814451967802949632/final-fic-for-today-i-swear?source=share

-AO3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/83481671

https://archiveofourown.org/works/83484586

Hi there. Firstly, thanks for the kind words, I must be doing something right getting 2 similar messages just a few days apart.

Secondly, a message for those out there - new writer alert! This lady (sorry, making presumptions from your profile as you don’t specifically state it) is looking for new readers, so I’ll do what I can to enhance the signal (sorry, not really a fan of the spy novel genre so it’s what I imagine is something that would be said!)

Could I just ask you to make sure your age (or at least confirming 18+) is written somewhere in your profile / intro post - minors interacting with fetish blogs is very much frowned upon.

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What are everyone’s ideas for the ideal number of pregnancies?

Im thinking 2 pregnancies of my own children, and 8 as a surrogate. Lots of pregnant and birthy fun to be had.

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I'm so in love with your work, and I'm desperate for another fic like home videos... It was just so gorgeously, lovingly written and I want more fics of yours where only the mother and father are present. If you ever want some inspo: I'd love to read anything that takes place in nature, or maybe an innkeeper and his laboring wife that tries to offer hospitality to their guests for too long before finally giving birth upstairs... More ideas:

Naturalist couple/campsite birth while studying in the field

A poor late 19th/early 20th century couple travelling to America in the steerage of a non-commercial cargo ship (the only passengers, a sailor friend helped them get this deal but it's rly not suitable for people)

An alchemist knocked up his apprentice and she's giving birth in his tower

Yay

Hiya - thanks for the kind words and I’ll take your ideas into account. Can’t take all the credit though, a lot of the story fun, games and shenanigans are worked out jointly with @allkindsofpreg. In fact part of the problem is (which I’ll admit has me sounding like a broken record) that I have several ‘finished but need to be edited’ stories on my computer that I can’t find the time to actually go back and tidy up ready for posting.

[bumpasauruspregs]

Hello!!!

Yes that’s right, your big momma is back! Posting and reblogging again very soon!! So please do share/reblog this to help me catch up from where I left off!!

Those who share will be treated to something in their DMs!!

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Hi All. Just wanted to drop a message to say this lady had contacted me saying she had come back to tumblr, and wanted to re-grow her old network / find new faces. So me being the sucker I am for damsel in distress stories, I’m reblogging (mainly because she posts original content and not just endless reblogs…)

And yes I realise the irony of the fact she’s reposting her own old feed stuff, but new stuff will be coming I’m presuming !

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https://www.tumblr.com/speedyparadiselover/804642895563997184

Thanks. That wasn’t the specific story I was looking for but it was certainly on the theme!

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I may be going mad… I distinctly remember reading a birth story where someone was at a concert and basically gave birth at the front of the crowd whilst resting on railings. If it was on here I would have thought I would have liked it, but can’t find it in my liked stories. Does anyone recall it at all?

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Happy valentines all. Hoping to hear plenty of stories of November babies to be :)

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Not really often I post stuff that isn’t my work… and even rarer where pregnancy isn’t involved - but found this series of stories earlier today and it’s too good not to share.

It’s on Reddit though, so hopefully the link works.

Reddit - The heart of the internet

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A New Family Dynamic (Polyamoury)

Another story that I worked on with @allkindsofpreg. As usual - it gets a little kinky in spaces. Here's hoping you enjoy it - first one of 2026.

---

You groaned as you lay back in bed, your large belly prominent in your lap. I straddle your legs, supporting my weight on my arms as my chest skims lightly over the stretched skin of your bump. The hairs on my chest scratching and tickling your belly.

“I just wish these babies were here, I’m as big as a whale” you whine, though your tone was playful rather than complaining.

“You know how big you are turns me on…” my voice is breathy as you feel the hardness of my cock rub against your knee. “They’ll be here soon… let’s just enjoy being child free for as long as we can… hell it could be days… or even hours at this point in time.”

I lean forward stretching, my chest rubbing against your own chest, your nipples swelling at the contact as my lips meet yours and we kiss, our tongues meeting and swirling together.

“You’re gorgeous babe.” that was the voice of Stella, the third of our little polycule. She looked up from her position between the legs of Georgie, the final member of our little poly family, who was, let’s be honest, in no fit state to say anything, her moans had just echoed around the room as she came to the feel of a tongue across her folds, her chest heaving as she came down from whatever ecstasy she was experiencing at that very moment.

We had found out only last week that Georgie was expecting her first child and Stella certainly wanted to celebrate the best way she knew how.

“She’s right,” Georgie added, finally coming back to herself. She looked at your belly longingly and placed a hand over her own still flat stomach. “I can’t wait.” She reached a hand across the bed and cupped one of your milk-filled breasts. “And I really can’t wait for these,” she teased, thumbing your nipple and causing you to gasp, your whole body having been super sensitive for weeks now.

Lately, what with your being so close to going into labour, the three of us loved to gang up on you to make you forget all about the aches in your back, hips and feet. Almost as if we’d rehearsed it, Stella joined in by slipping her hand between your legs, and between our kissing, Georgie’s teasing, and Stella’s fingering, you were breathless for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with the two babies compressing your lungs.

There was so much pleasure zinging through your body— your lips, your neck, your chest, your clit — it had you writhing, arching, simultaneously trying to lean into and pull away from the sheer magnitude of sensation. “Fuck me,” you moaned.

“Is that an exclamation or a request?” Georgie asked with a giggle, pinching your nipple a little harder.

“Mm, fuck. Both, I think.” You were already wet and Stella’s fingers, while talented, didn’t fill you up the same way as my cock. You kissed my jaw, my cheek, up to my ear. “Need you inside me.”

“As you wish.” I sat back on my heels and suddenly the attention shifted to me. I watched for a moment as the two ladies started with their ministrations, stroking me to make sure I was nice, hard and thick for you. “What position would feel most comfortable for you right now?”

It was hard for you to think clearly, but you knew at least you didn’t want to be on your back. “On top. Me. On you.”

You weren’t sure if you were even forming coherent words, but I grasped the idea. I rolled to the other side of the bed and, with both Georgie and Stella’s help, you got to a seated position and crawled over to straddle my thighs.

“I’d suck you off if I could reach you over this thing,” You said, hands tracing around the curve of your huge belly to wrap around my cock. You gave a few languid pulls and cupped my balls before I jerked and grabbed your wrists.

“I’m already well prepared for you, baby,” I explained. “C’mere. I know what you need.”

You shuffled forward on your knees until you were flush with my hips. My hands reached up, rested against the sides of your belly, travelled around to your generous behind, and settled on your hips, guiding you down onto me.

Once I was fully sheathed in your folds, Georgie tilted your chin in her direction and teased your mouth open with her tongue. Stella got behind you, poured some oil into her palms, and kneaded her knuckles into your lower back, up your spine, and into your shoulders.

Your head lolled forward and slumped in pure ecstasy. Georgie turned her focus to me while Stella worked at your overtaxed muscles, and you twisted your hips experimentally. The slow drag of my cock on your walls left you panting. But then you tilted and shifted just so as I happened to thrust up at exactly the same time, it hit a spot that caused stars to burst behind your eyes.

“Fuck. Yes. There. Right there.”

Encouraged by your breathless plea, my pace quickened. “There?”

You nodded, reaching back to weave your fingers through Stella’s hair. You craned your neck back and she kissed you deeply before moving down to nibble at your neck.

“I’m close. I’m close, but I—“ you didn’t know what, but you certainly seemed to be enjoying the moment.

My hand brushed the underside of your stomach as my thumb found your clit. My pace slowed but my thrusts became harder, deeper, resulting in your exaggerated curves bouncing with every one. Soon you were almost entirely still, the three of us doing all the work to make you whine, moan and clench.

My thumb pressed deeper, Stella’s tongue and teeth danced across your skin, and finally Georgie returned her focus to you, to the breasts she was so fond of, and you came undone.

You shouted as your whole body seized and then released itself in spasming waves of pleasure, but as those waves receded they were replaced by a different tension—longer and more painful.

Your hands flew to your stomach as you tried to catch your breath. The sudden stillness drew everyone’s attention back to you, and there must have been a strange look on your face because Georgie grabbed your hand, kissing your palm before interlocking fingers with you.

“What is it, love?” she asked.

“I- I think I just had a contraction.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. I’ll admit, I sounded concerned – we’d been preparing for this day now for the last 4 weeks after being warned that twins could come early, but here we go – 39 weeks, and it may be the sign that things were underway.

“I… think… so…” you sounded each word out as if you were unsure. “I mean, I’ve no point of reference, but it certainly felt different to all the Braxton Hicks contractions I’ve been having. Look, lets not get all worked up right now. I mean I think you’re supposed to track them over hours and hours… and you have something that needs to be drained.” You of course were referencing my rod-hard cock which was still sheathed deep into you. I of course, was well aware of the fact, but given the situation we were in right now, I wasn’t sure if you’d be having second thoughts.

Your hands crept up my body as you lifted your hips, holding your pelvic muscles tight as you did so. I swear the sound was almost like a pop as I slipped out of you, and the gasping groan that escaped my lips was all the sign you needed to know that had hit just the right level.

Stella and Georgie took their own role in this, taking my hands away from you, inserting two of my fingers on each hand into their own mouths. They mimed as if they were sucking my cock by swirling their tongue around my digits, but most importantly, it took away any sort of control I had over your movements. I was lost to the pleasure as I shuddered – you slipped back down my shaft as I felt the pressure building, knowing it was close to release.

“Let it go” you whispered, sensing my quivering body ready for release. “Cum for me…” you continued to whisper breathy little statements like that as you bounced, the sounds of the other two reduced to grunts and moans as they played with my fingers.

“I can’t, I can’t hold on.” I sounded almost pleading, as if I wanted to keep this moment going forever.

“Cum… daddy!” you moaned as your head fell back and your eyes closed, another surge taking you. You knew that if this was the real deal, you likely would be a few weeks before you would feel me inside you again, so you were determined to make me have the best orgasm you could.

Your hands pulled back on your belly, as if trying to ease the weight for a few moments, but I couldn’t hold on any longer. The groan escaped my lips as I felt my twitching cock expel its load. You lifted yourself off me, a sticky trail of my fluids dripping out of you as you shuffled back. Stella noticed the mess and turned toward you, her fingers dipping between your legs – to another gasp from you, as Georgie let go of my fingers and her head turned towards the glistening mess between my legs. I was half expecting her to try and take me in her mouth, but she ran her finger through the puddle we had left and brought it up to my chest, trailing her wet finger through my hair.

“Look at the mess you made, we’ll have to clean the sheets” she said wickedly.

“We might have more than a bit of cum to worry about getting the sheets dirty.” You interrupted, hand pressed hard into your side. “That was another one.”

Just to make sure it was the real deal and not just a very intense false labour, Georgie brought you a glass of water while I led you around the house for a bit. Despite the hydration and the movement, a combination that would usually stop the Braxton Hicks, the contractions still came regularly, and closer together than seemed normal for this early in the process.

After a couple hours, a light snack, and about a hundred trips up and down the hallway, we determined that this was likely happening, finally.

“Are we ready to be parents?” You huffed, the last contraction strong enough to leave you winded. I kissed you as Georgie wrapped her arms around you from behind and Stella wrapped herself around me. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Stella took to changing out the linens - both because we had made quite a mess of the sheets and so she could replace them with the special waterproof ones we had bought in anticipation of labour. We weren’t entirely sure that a home birth would be possible, as multiples tended to have more complications, but you’d had a healthy pregnancy and the midwife said we could give it a go as long as things seemed to be going smoothly.

This initial stage had you restless - not quite comfortable enough to allow you to rest, but not quite uncomfortable enough to feel like any real progress was being made. You walked and leaned and swayed as much as your body would allow, but eventually your back began to ache and the continuous movement started to hurt more than it helped.

“What can we do to make it better, love?” I asked.

Your skin was still coated in now dried salty liquids from our earlier escapades, and some hot water sounded heavenly. “Shower?” You suggested.

Our extra large shower could normally accommodate all four of us, but now that you had two extra people on board that hadn’t been logistically possible for quite some time now. We still managed to wedge three of us in there - Georgie in front, me in the back, and you and the twins sandwiched in between.

The warm water was a balm to your aching joints and you leaned back into me. I reached my arms around your waist and clasped me hands beneath your huge belly, supporting some of the weight and relieving it from your spine as I dipped my head down to kiss the crook of your neck.

Georgie lathered you up, take her time massaging her hands into your shoulders, your breasts, your hips, your thighs. As your face pinched with the start of a new contraction, she dipped her fingers into your folds and you gasped, pressing back into me. I was getting hard again, holding myself still in an attempt to quell the rising urge.

“It’s okay,” you said, craning your neck to kiss my lips. You tilted your hips back and ground your ass against my cock. “Want to take care of you too, daddy.”

My grip on your stomach tightened and I pressed myself even closer. I moved my hands to your breasts and slotted my dick between your ass cheeks as my hips began a steady rhythm, sliding up and down between them as my fingers teased your sensitive nipples. This intensified the contraction causing you to gasp, the pressure increasing from a dull indistinct ache into something sharper and more precise. Georgie stroked your clit and her fingers danced inside you as she leaned over your shoulder, pulling you into her bosom and in for a deep kiss.

In what could be a truly impressive display of acrobatics considering the situation, you managed to duck under Georgie’s arm and switch positions so that she could finish me off while you rode out the rest of the contraction. The soap, water and pain was making you feel a bit unsteady, so you got out of the shower – you figured it would make things easier for us two without you in there anyway.

Stella immediately wrapped you in a warmed towel and brought you over to the newly made bed. There were at least a dozen pillows, soft blankets essential oils being diffused in the air and romantic music playing - this was so much better than giving birth in a hospital.

“Rest while you can,” she instructed, helping you onto the mattress and shoving soft things into every uncomfortable crevice until it truly felt like you were floating.

Your back was elevated to about a 45 degree angle, your naked belly and breasts spilling out over your thighs. Your knees were up and bent, lazily opening out to the sides and putting your vagina on full display. It almost looked like the position women traditionally gave birth in, and when I emerged from the bathroom with Georgie in tow, you could tell the sight awakened something primal in me.

Your stomach squeezed, the pressure returning, and you made a show of opening your hips wider, pulling apart your folds to give me a good look at where our babies would soon be coming from.

“Pretty soon there’s going to be a head crowning right here,” you said, tracing your opening. “But it’s so small, and our babies are so big.” You laid your hand atop the peak of your swell for emphasis - it was an impressive distance. “Is this how I should do it?” You hooked your hands behind your knees and pulled them back so that your feet were off the bed. You looked at each of the three of us in turn. “How do you want to see me birth these babies?”

“As long as both you and the babies are healthy, then I’m not bothered…” there was an audible gasp in the room as both Stella and Georgie’s hands went to their mouths in shock.

My proclivity for birth was well known between the three of us, even before you were pregnant I had the three of you dress up with fake bellies and play out scenes from birth videos we had watched. They always made me hard and if truth be told it was probably a result of those videos that caused the babies to be conceived in the first place. Hence the passive attitude was completely unexpected.

“Who am I kidding…” I added with a smile, looking from eye to eye with each of the ladies in the room watching them realise I was leading them on. “I want to see you push, I want to see you stretch, and maybe… just maybe I want to see you howl as you do it. I want you nice and wide, moaning through your pushes, and I want my other ladies teasing you throughout. I want to cum on your belly as you push, maybe even feed you my cum so it dribbles out of your lips as your pussy lips drool their own juices. I want you to reach that pinnacle of pleasure and pain so you cum as the head pops out of you. And of course I want a good view of it at all times. I want these two beautiful ladies make you beg as they suckle on your breasts, getting you ready for feeding two hungry mouths in the aftermath. All in all I want the birth of my first children to be a memory all four of us will treasure.”

My speech had all three of you looking wide eyed and wanting, the four of us all ultimately wanting the same thing. It was your wince, as the next contraction picked up that broke the reverie of the moment.

As you lolled your head back, offering your hands for both myself and Stella to take one each so you could squeeze as the contraction built, you let out a chuckle.

“One hell of a voyeurs show coming up daddy…”

You laboured in this position for quite a while, being stroked, kissed, massaged and fingered until you’d come at least twice more. But then progress stalled and you were brought back to your feet for a bit.

The added pressure on your spine caused you to be more vocal during the contractions, but you figured I’d rather like that.

“Mmm. Ohh. Oh, they feel so low.” You bent forward to massage the bottom of your stomach. It had dropped considerably since labour had started, and while it gave your lungs a bit more breathing room, it increased the pressure between your hips even more. Your legs shuffled apart so you were standing in a wide V. “Like they might just—mmm—fall out of me any minute.”

I came up and dipped a finger inside of you - deeply. “Not so low after all,” I teased, adding in another finger. “You’re gonna have to work hard to get my big babies out of this tight little pussy.”

You shuddered in anticipation. It would feel so good to start pushing, but your body wasn’t ready for that yet. You bent over the dresser, resting your forehead on your crossed arms as all the mass of your belly pooled down and to the front. Your full breasts swayed side to side in time with your hips as you rode out the contraction with my fingers inside you and Stella’s hand pressed firmly against your sacrum.

“Gooood, mama,” Georgie praised, stroking your hair as you mimicked the measured breaths she took. “Breathe it away.”

You gave up leaning on the furniture and had to walk around. After a few more laps of the room, your legs got a little too shaky, your sweat dampened skin got a little too cool and your stomach got a little too nauseous, so you requested a stint in our massive tub.

It took a while to fill, but it was so worth it. The weightlessness instantly relieved the pressure on your back, knees and feet and the warmth loosened some of the tightness in your muscles. You didn’t want to lose the comforting touch I had been giving you all this time, so begged me to follow you into the tub – I was hardly one to argue at a request like that!

Still wanting to move things along, you stayed in a squatting position, with me supporting you from behind. I wrapped my arms under yours, hands resting on your breasts and stimulating your nipples during contractions, making them come hard and fast and in turn making you moan and whimper.

Georgie and Stella were kneeling on the side of the tub to help support. Georgie held your hand while Stella massaged your hard belly whilst you rode out wave after wave of contractions. Some combination of the water, the stimulation and the relaxation ramped up the intensity. You could no longer speak – were reduced to primal grunts and groans that transformed into meditative howls at Georgie’s prompting you to be loose. Your eyes drifted closed as you focused only on the physical sensations of your body. Your nipples, gently rolled between two fingers. Your stomach, sharp and tight and full. Your clit, circled and stroked and pressed thanks to Stella’s roaming hands. Your hips, aching from being held so open for so long. Your ass and thighs, making small figure eights in the water as you rolled your hips.

The sensations were constant now, both pleasure and pain, and you gave yourself over fully to feeling them. You writhed and panted, thrashed and growled and it got to a point where finally you decided the water did absolutely nothing to ease the mounting pressure. The next contraction came upon you so fiercely and suddenly that you screamed, lurching forward onto your knees and gripping the edge of the tub with one hand and your stomach with the other.

“Hnghh, fuck! Ow, shit, fuck!” you gasped, slamming your fist against the rim to emphasize your cursing. “Hahh, ahh, mmmmm.” You tried to relax back into the flow state you’d managed previously, but something was different now.

“What is it, love?” Stella asked, pushing a strand of hair out of your face.

You whimpered, tried to stand, failed miserably. “Bed. Please,” you managed.

We worked in unison to pull you up out of the water. You cried out at the sudden weight of gravity adding to the already unbearable pressure, and after stepping out of the tub, I had to carry you the few feet across the room.

You laid in much the same position you had teased me with earlier, only this time the display was real. “Check me,” you begged, your legs falling open as your face scrunched up in pain. “I think- I think I need to push!”

“Are you sure?” Georgie asked, excitement mixing with worry. “Your water hasn’t even broken yet.”

“That’s why I wanted someone to fucking check me,” you groaned out, and Georgie looked like a kicked puppy. “Sorry, George, I - fuck, I just really need to start doing something with all this pressure building up inside, you know?”

She nodded, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles. You added “I just don’t want anything to go wrong. Plus… pregnancy hormones.”

We all had a tension relieving chuckle at that, which was interrupted with a hiss as I stuck your fingers inside and probed your cervix.

“Well?” You had the blanket in a death grip as I sought my determination. But I was too slow. Another contraction came right on the heels of the last one and you couldn’t help but push with it. “Fuck, I’m pushing, I’m pushing!” Stella grabbed your other hand as you threw your head back, knees pulling up and back as your heels dug in and your toes curled with the effort.

“Mmmnahhh!” At the crest of the contraction, something gave way. A dam broke, both literally and metaphorically, and the entire lower half of my arm was coated in amniotic fluid as the push broke your waters with my hand still inside you.

We all stared down between your legs for a moment, a bit shocked and definitely excited. Some of the pressure had been released, but that fluid was quickly being replaced with the very large and solid head of our first baby. Your back arched, pushing out your belly and breasts even further, at the sensation, as if your whole insides were being pulled down and out through my vagina by a very strong, very large string.

“Baby’s still pretty far up there, but you’re at ten.” I smiled at you, kissed your knee and looked back between my legs hungrily. “Time for Stage 2.”

You blew out your breath, you were unconsciously holding it in following the soaking that my hand had just gotten, and the thoughts of what was on the horizon - and more importantly, what you’d have to do to scale that proverbial mountain. You looked down. There was an expanding pool of murky water just visible past the extremities of your belly, prevented from soaking into the sheets by the waterproof top cover.

“Can you clean…” you were cut short as you noticed your belly tighten around the babies within it, the next contraction building rapidly and squeezing you forcefully. You closed your eyes and winced, squeezing the two ladies hands as you sought something to do to react to the sensations that were surging inside you. Your knees closed almost involuntarily, trapping my arm in place as I’d extracted my hand, but weren’t quick enough to move out of the way.

“These feelings are just too much… it hurts, it hurts, what do I do… what do I do.” You were in a bit of a panic, and the other three of us all joined in at once.

“Just breathe… let it come” came Stella, her free hand moving to your shoulder.

“Push when you need to, you’re doing great!” That was Georgie, her free hand moving towards your knee trying to separate them to release my arm.

“This… this is so beautiful… you’re so beautiful, you’re doing great.” That was me, who at that very moment was transfixed by the shape your belly had made.

It was absolute cacophony, four people making noise at once, though it was suddenly all overridden by your own roar as your knees flopped wide, you grabbed your inner thighs and pushed. The rest of us were awestruck. Finding my arm released once more I scrambled forward through the water puddle on the bed so I was directly in front of you, my hands on top of yours, interlocking with your fingers digging into your thighs so my head was visible over your belly, and we locked eyes.

“That’s it, Push!” I spoke in front of you. You could only nod as the contraction faded. “I need you all to help me!” The frustration was definitely still there in your tone.

-

This was new for all of us, so you tried to allow everyone some grace… but damnit, it hurt and nothing anyone said or did seemed to be helping. You pushed with everything you had with every contraction, but you may as well have been pushing up against a stone wall. When you yelled, more in frustration than pain, Georgie patted your arm in sympathy.

“You’ve just got to relax, mummy. The baby will come when it’s ready.”

Stella must have been able to sense your less than helpful retort sitting there on your lips, and interrupted with, “Why don’t we try something a little different then, yeah?” She sat on the bed behind you, leaning back against the headboard and moving the pillow tower out of the way, opened up her legs, and pulled you up so you were pressed directly against her chest.

I took the opportunity to soak up the birthing fluids with a towel and toss it into the bathroom before crawling back between your legs. “Alright?” I asked, tracing a line up and down your inner thigh. When you didn’t answer, I dipped into your folds and smiled. “It’s so close now, love. I can feel the head just inside.”

“Really?” you asked, hopeful. I nodded and you placed your hands around the curve of your stomach. “Just a little more, babies. Momma needs your help.”

Your belly contorted and clenched as a new contraction began and you reached your arms overhead to grip on the headboard over Stella’s shoulder as you gave myself over to another push.

“Hnghhhhahh! Ahh, fuck!” Your heels pressed into the mattress, bringing your hips up until I forced them back down into a stable position. “Fuck, stop, I need to- I need—“ you gasped as Georgie’s tongue stroked long and hard across my chest.

“You need to relax,” she repeated with a wicked smile. She trailed kisses across your collarbone, down your chest, and then took one of your breasts in her mouth, lapping and sucking at your nipple in such a way that a different kind of pressure began building inside of you. “You like that, huh momma?” she hummed against your skin.

“Oh. Ooooh, oh god. Mmmmnahhh!” Something finally gave way and the head surged forward, bulging out your lips and pressing insistently against my hole.

“That’s it, it’s right there!” I called from my post between your legs, shuffling closer. “You’ll be crowning in no time.”

You pulled Georgie’s face up to yours and kissed her while Stella took over massaging your breasts. You paused to push whenever there was a contraction, but in between there was always touching, kisses, love.

When your folds began to part in earnest, you howled, “Burns! It’s burning!” and the three of us redoubled our efforts. Every sensual part of you felt like it was being tended to simultaneously — your lips, your neck, your breasts, your ass, your thighs. You had the vague sense of me working to stroke your clit at the same time as I was stroking my cock and my words from earlier came back to you.

You reached between your legs and your hand found its way to my shaft. You brushed its hard length with your fingertips and then felt for the coin sized bit of pubic hair that was left sitting at your opening after we had recently styled you. “Come on me,” you said, moving your fingers to your clit, taking over pleasuring yourself in the downtime between contractions.

“What?” I asked, incredulous, as if I hadn’t been the one to suggest it in the first place.

“Mark me as yours. Paint me with your seed. Make me taste you, make me scream, make me come as I’m spread open unbearably wide.” You let out three quick huffs of air as your fingers moved with greater urgency. “And do it quickly-eee!” your last word morphed into a squeal and then a shout as the next contraction slammed into you.

Your hands moved, hooking under your knees and pulling them back as you locked eyes with me over the huge dome of your stomach, as once more, you pushed.

It was as if all my birthdays came at once… and I wasted no time in reaching down between my own legs and stroked my shaft, feeling the slickness meet my fingers at the tip.

I shuffled back and got up on my haunches as I slowed my breathing and let my fingers start to play. Back and forth my hand moved, squelching noises soon following the back and forth movement.

My eyes met with yours over your belly and though you were obviously in pain as the contraction built, your eyes also showed longing, and I knew then you wanted this rather than just saying it knowing it would please me.

Your chin dropped to your chest and you moaned out loud and low as you pulled your legs back further, Stella and Georgie maintaining the touch and massage they had started.

With Stella behind you, she focused entirely on you, her hands rubbing circles and tugging at your nipples, finally squeezing out a few drops of colostrum as you gasped and pushed. She let go with one hand and turned your head so her lips could meet hers in an embrace.

Yours moans met her voice purring into yours “you’re so sexy, stretch for me mamma, push that head out. “

The show was electric for me, and quite soon I was beginning to huff and puff myself, starting to lose control.

Georgie sensed the progression and stepped off the bed, leaving you as she walked in behind me, reached a hand under my ass and between my legs, brushed her fingers over my balls and took a long finger and stroked it down my shaft from as far as she could reach back to my ass. The added sensation caused me to flinch and a spurt of creamy white cum flowed out of me and dribbled down my hand into the bed.

I could do nothing else but groan, my own moaning noises meshing with yours, your focus now on Stella’s tongue playing with yours. Georgie got in close behind my ear and nibbled lightly whispering “that cum is the same stuff that’s going to make me swell as much as this gorgeous lady… 8 more months and we’ll be doing this all again.”

Her hand wrapped around my fingers and joined in with the back and forth movement as her eyes caught sight of between your legs.

It was clear that the baby was on the way. Your gasping pushes had bulged your opening to grotesque levels, your lips open in an oval and the view of the first tufts of the baby’s matted hair more than visible.

“Look at our baby, look at our baby” she was elated, and she kissed my neck.

That was what pushed me over the edge, that kiss. I knew I was close with the dribbling, but I couldn’t hold any longer. The stream of cum flew out into a gigantic arc and splattered into your tummy, soon followed by a second and third splatter until the force behind it had dissipated and all that was left was another dribble into our combined hands.

I stared at the fluid as it slid down your belly but Georgie wouldn’t let it travel too far, moving past me to rub it into the giant mound you held in front of you.

Her sticky hands slid down the side of your belly and rubbed the wet liquid into the hand you were gripping your inner thigh with.

“You feel that babe… your pushing has looked so sexy you’ve made him cum that much… and it’s all for you and the good work you’re doing with the baby… now… let’s see the head!”

You grunted again. Turning your head away from Stella you wined “it’s coming, I can feel it stretching… I’m burning, I’m burning!”

Georgie’s hand drifted inward, providing gentle counterpressure against the emerging head.

“What are you doing?” you practically screeched, trying to shuffle backward but blocked by Stella’s firm presence. “It needs to—fuck—come oooout!”

“It’s gonna come, baby,” Stella soothed, peppering kisses along the back of your neck and rubbing a hand up and down your belly when your lips turned down into a pout. “Just not too fast. Gotta keep mama safe too.”

“Plus this way it’ll last longer,” Georgie added wickedly, fingers tracing the modest crown in fascination.

In the space between contractions, you were grateful for the pause, the time to revel in the beauty and strength of this moment - your naked body, soft, round and full, growing and nurturing life and then labouring to bring it forth surrounded by all the people that created this family. You cupped your palm around the dome between your legs, wincing in anticipation of everything still behind the skin breaching the small hole at its peak.

“I believe you promised that crowning would come with an orgasm,” you sighed, leaning heavily against Stella.

“I believe you’re right.” I looked wicked, and though you missed it, you were certain that I had winked.

You were kind of joking - now that it was happening, you couldn’t imagine how that would be possible - but then you felt my hands replace yours. I moved them out, massaged your thighs and relaxed your knees open even further. I drifted a finger over the glazing work on your stomach. My finger then pressed into your clit, which was prominent and distended with the baby’s head pressing out beneath it.

“It’s- it’s coming. Another one’s coming,” you warned, licking your lips as your breathing picked up.

Stella slipped out from behind you and I slid my hands under your ass, pulling your hips forward so that you were lying flat on your back. Stella and Georgie each hooked an arm around the back of one of your knees and hiked them out and back, pinning your legs practically down to the bed.

“How am I supposed to push like this?” In response, each of the girls took one of your breasts in their mouth and began to suck. You gasped, instinctually reaching behind to grab hold of the headboard and arching further into the warm, wet heat of their mouths. The pressure mounted and you pushed, howling as the unbearable burn returned. As if they’d practiced, Stella and Georgie simultaneously took your nipples between their teeth and gave a little tug, lapping and swirling the area with their tongues – your hips would have bucked if they weren’t held in place.

This continued in a cycle, you giving little pushes only to be distracted by pleasure, then giving in to the pressure long enough to stretch a little more only to be overtaken once more.

A different kind of tension began building in your core, always just beginning to surface when it was drowned out by the pain of a contraction. Your hands let go of the headboard and darted between your legs, fluttering uselessly around the tight circle of flesh that was so close to giving way, but also seemed to retreat at the last second.

“Please, more. I need more. I need—“ you hissed in frustration as another contraction began.

“I know, love,” I said, as if I’d been waiting for you to beg. I’d been enjoying the show, and knew your body well enough to know what you needed even when you didn’t. I grabbed the little vibrating wand from the nightstand and waited until everything picked up - Stella’s and Georgie’s kisses, your grunting pushes, the pressure behind the bulging head - and then flicked it on. Your body jerked when the vibe pressed against your clit, causing you to scream in surprise.

“Keep pushing,” I urged, firmly holding one of your hips and the toy in place.

You started panting, writhing and gasping for breath and sanity against the conflicting powerful sensation zinging through my body. “Unghh, nghhhhah!” You managed to focus some energy on pressing back against the pressure bearing down in your hips.

“Good girl, more,” I instructed, other hand now moving to gently press against the skin surrounding the tight crown.

You took one deep breath and held it, bearing down with more force than any of your previous pushing attempts. You howled, your hole stretched almost to the point of breaking. Time seemingly stood still for you, but only a moment later the pleasure finally, finally peaked.

“Ffffuuuuuuck!” you yelled as your climax rolled through you, the waves of muscle contractions adding to the effort of your pushing and relaxing the tissues just enough to allow the huge head to finally slide through, another spray of fluids released behind it and spraying onto me and the bed.

“Guess we’re gonna need another towel,” Georgie said, looking at the mess and pressing a kiss into your temple. “Good job, mamma.”

You could only nod as you breathed deep, ragged breaths coming down from the sensations that coursed through your body, the feeling of fullness between your legs abated somewhat, but there was still fullness around the baby’s neck… and the ever present feeling of shoulders just behind the entrance.

It must have only taken a second or two before Stella had dug two fingers back between your legs leaving you to gasp at the intrusion.

“Sorry” came her apologetic announcement “but I need to check for a cord.” Her fingers circumnavigated the neck and you felt a slight tug as she pulled on the cord making sure it had plenty of movement. She suddenly let out a squeal of pleasure as the head turned and we all got a proper look at our first baby.

I know ‘they’ say parents will love a child unconditionally, and I’ll be honest, they’re probably right… but right now that baby was a squashed, bloody mess and needed a good wipe down but sure… I can see how it can happen.

“Someone support the head I need to push!” Your announcement was sudden and broke us all out of our reverie. Georgie had thrown another towel down under your ass and the baby to give somewhere to lay it down on after it was born so she was closest, barging me out the way to be involved. Your eyes scrunched up and we were back to pushing once more.

I stood by your lower quarter where you rested your leg against me, Stella scooting around to grab your other leg and together we urged you on to push. Together we operated as one, your downward force and the two of us opening your pelvis as Georgie’s fingers slid into your opening and pressed down on your skin, guided out the first shoulder, then soon after the second.

You gasped, announcing the relief was impossible to measure and soon after the slippery infant was lifted up from between your legs, you gave a yell of success and the messy bundle was placed to rest on your belly.

“Go mamma… it’s a boy!” she announced. In parallel, your body flooded with hormones and tears flooded your eyes. We knew you were expecting one of each, non identical twins in their own sacs… we found that out from the scans we’d been having - what we weren’t sure was which would be born first as the babies had been awkwardly placed when room ran out in your womb.

Tears continued to leak from your eyes and this little body jostled up and down on your chest in time with your own silent cries. Stella leaned back on the bed to pull you closer into her side as you buried your face against her for a moment, entirely overwhelmed.

Seems our firstborn child was a son… what we didn’t know was how soon he’d be joined by his sister.

“He’s so beautiful, babe,” Stella said, kissing the top of my head and rubbing a soothing hand up and down my arm. “So proud of you.”

You nodded, took a shuddering breath, and finally looked down at our son. He was waxy and red and scrunched and a bit cone shaped… and the most beautiful thing you’d ever laid eyes on. Georgie had come over with a towel and started to rub the baby down to get off most of the vernix and birth fluids.

I in turn pulled one of the soft baby blankets from the pile beside the bed and pulled it over the two of you as you both got to know each other. After a few minutes he seemed to settle, recognizing the scent of your skin and surrounded by warmth.

The flutters in your stomach reminded you that you were only halfway done, but the contractions were weak and sporadic and it seemed as though his sister was going to take her sweet time coming out. You twisted your hips and stretched as the ache began to settle in from being in this position for too long.

“Alright?” I asked, wondering at the discomfort evident on your face. “Contractions?”

“No,” you shook your head. “Well, yes, but nothing to be bothered about yet. I’m just—maybe help me sit up?”

Stella and myself sprang into action, propping you up and shoving pillows behind your back until you were semi-upright.

“Better?” I asked.

You nodded. “Much.” The shift in position jostled the baby and he got restless. After a moment, you realized his movements against your chest weren’t random — he was rooting. “Oh! Oh, you’re hungry.” You pulled him a little to the side, but he still wasn’t quite in the right position. “A little help?”

Stella shoved another pillow under your arm as I reached to nudge the baby’s head toward your nipple. When he still wasn’t latching, I scooped a hand under your breast, filling my hand with it and aiming it toward the baby’s mouth like a bottle.

“There it is,” I said as his mouth finally closed around your offered nipple.

“Oh that’s so strange!” You said, looking up at each of us in wonder. You giggled, cried a little, went back to smiling. Once he’d gotten the hang of it, he sucked like he was starving.

“Be sure to leave some for your sister,” Georgie chastised lightly, brushing her fingers over his thigh and up his side.

As if listening to her, he released you with a wet pop and a soft mewling sound. You put a hand behind his head and brought him up to your shoulder, gently rubbing and patting his back until he released a soft hiccup burp. Once he settled again, your own eyes began to drift closed and you realized just how bone tired you were.

“Why don’t you take a rest?” Georgie suggested, kissing one of your still-bent knees.

You released a whine of protest as Stella gave your arm a sympathetic squeeze. “We’ll take good care of him, I promise. You should try and sleep if you can.”

“It’s funny,” you said, handing the baby off to me, now shirtless in preparation for some skin-to-skin time with my son, “these early contractions seemed so unbearable before; now they’re just a minor inconvenience.”

As I snuggled in beside you - and Stella and Georgie beside me - you drifted off thinking maybe, just maybe, the second birth would be a little easier than the first.

Wishful thinking.

I listened contentedly to the sounds of the room - your sighing breaths as you seemed, somehow to drift off, and the mewling noises of the baby as he became accustomed to his new found freedom.

About 15 minutes had passed as Stella looked up and over at you. “Is she asleep? I mean… how. Isn’t she having contractions?”

Georgie piped up “yeah but she’s also pushed that big blob out… that’s got to take some effort” pointing towards me and the baby.

“Hey!” I retorted “our son is not a blob… he’s cute and chunky!” The three of us had a little giggle between ourselves as your eyes opened. I put my fingers to my lips, and announced “shhh” to the other two as you smiled, laid your head back and closed your eyes again.

The two ladies got up off the bed and picked the baby up off me as they walked over to the crib and wrapped the newborn up in a swaddle and laid him down. His own ordeal seemed to have worn him out as much as his mum as the baby’s eyes were closed and he nodded off as soon as he was laid down.

I decided to get up. Placed a kiss on your forehead as I pulled a blanket up to cover you. I announced I was going to jump in the shower and wash off some of the grime and muck that covered my hands and arms. Georgie decided to follow me as Stella announced she wasn’t going to take her eyes off the baby.

We got under the warm water and had only about 5 minutes of relaxing into each other’s touch when we heard your grunting. We nodded at each other, mutual understanding that things were starting to happen again as we shut off the water and started to towel down heading back toward the bedroom.

We got into the room to see you out of bed and bent over the crib, you and Stella staring at the contented baby inside. You turned as you saw me enter and grinned “time for take two I think.”

I walked to greet you in the apparent mid point of a contraction as you turned and leaned into me, your back and shoulders against my chest. You let out a groan as I captured your belly - noticing it seemed a lot looser - not really surprising considering - and held it. The feel of the contraction was evident. You rested against me, legs parted wide as your groan echoed around the room.

You suddenly held your breath and closed your eyes. “That’s it girl, big strong push, let’s get baby sister out okay” - the words of encouragement came from Stella who’s eyes had followed you as you moved around the room.

Another grunt, another push and your hands pressed into your thighs. You leaned forward and I felt your ass stick out to and press into my own belly. You shimmied - yes, shimmied, down my torso as I felt your ass slide down my body and rest in my crotch. My hands moved from your belly and grasped your hips as my fingers pressed into your lower back. “That’s it… right there” you groaned, the pleasure evident. “Stick them in me…”

Georgie could only giggle. She caught sight of my uncomfortable situation between my legs as she announced “I don’t think that’s what he’s thinking of sticking in you!”

A part of you was tempted to let this play out and feel what it would be like to have me inside you right now, like this. But the bigger part of you was so incredibly sore, tired and already aching with fullness once again. You reached between your legs but there was nothing to feel yet, not even a bulge to indicate our daughter was close to making her appearance. You pulled your hand away with a hiss as another contraction forced you into a pained hunch.

“Mmmm. Whooo. Oh, it’s already hurting,” You groaned as you pressed back into my hands, spreading your legs further apart as you let gravity and some gentle pushes bring the baby further down.

“I know, mama, but you’re almost done,” Stella soothed, giving the baby in the crib one last look before fully turning her attention back to you. She got to the side of you and cupped your quivering belly, letting you lean into her shoulder as I held your hips and spine. “Just keep pushing and she’ll be here before you know it.”

We stayed like this for several contractions, progress slow and steady, the only movement gentle rocking on the spot. At some point Georgie had placed a small mirror on the floor between your feet so that we could all watch each push with anticipation. At first there was nothing much to see - your already red, loosened hole fluttering open and closed around nothing; a few drips of stringy fluid reaching to the floor; the occasional pair of fingers peeling back your lips, probing the area, searching. All the while I suffered with you, the strain in my cock reaching painful levels in itself.

Then it finally happened, taking you by surprise once again. Pressure peaked, a hard push, and then a release of a huge gush of fluids. It drowned out the mirror, but you didn’t need it to know the baby had dropped dramatically into position. You gasped, nearly dropping into a deep squat if it weren’t for me and Stella holding you in place.

“Wanna—ngh—push on you,” you grunted as the burning returned — she was close.

“I think you already are,” I pointed out with a laugh, adjusting the position of my hips against yours.

You shook your head, but waited until the contraction had finished before elaborating. “Bed,” you commanded, pointing and nudging me in its direction, and I obeyed. I sat tentatively on the edge, but you chased me on your hands and knees until my back was against the headboard. Only then did you pause, your knees by my hips, and sit back on your haunches, on my lap, facing me.

You shimmied forward almost up onto my stomach until your opening was pressed up against my hard, erect length, your hands holding onto my shoulders for support as mine gripped your hips, pulling you even closer. Then, when another contraction started, you pushed.

“Fuuuck,” I groaned, my fingers digging into your ass as your vagina bulged and pressed into my dick. “Fuck, I’m close.”

“Me too,” you joked with a breathless laugh, which turned into a moan as you bore down again.

“Yes. Push, baby, push,” I encouraged, trying and failing to keep my hips from pumping on instinct.

You didn’t have such control, and tilted your hips forward and back, rubbing your clit against my engorged length in a desperate attempt to balance the stinging pain with a tiny bit of pleasure. You squeezed your knees to keep yourself pressed up against me as you leaned back, surprised but relieved to find Georgie right there to help hold you up. You leaned against her chest and she reached under your arms, stroking down your belly to between your legs to take over stimulating you while Stella, who seemed to appear out of nowhere, toyed with your nipples and massaged your lips with her tongue until they parted for her. She swallowed my groan as you pushed, finally releasing the hold keeping your knees in place so that they could widen.

“Coming, it’s coming,” you panted, the warning morphing into a cry as the head bulged obscenely outward, pulling your lips tightly away from your body, like a little volcano about to erupt into a full crown. “Are you?” you asked, unable to see the state of me from this angle over your still round stomach.

I’d lost control… unable to respond. My body was shaking, massively over stimulated. In front of my eyes you were pushing once again, the two other ladies joining in to give you support and what could only be described as a sensual massage as I basically lay there a quivering mess. I tried to say something - anything - but all that came out was a groan of my own. I felt my crotch pulse… usually the surefire sign of cumming… but nothing came out. I was dry. Between the sheer amount of times I’d ejaculated today I was basically spent.

You’d started to feel the contractions more and more and by this point you were leaning forward, ass in the air, your face buried into my chest where I could feel the heat of your breath on me as you sucked in a breath, roared it out, and sucked in once more.

Stella held one hand whilst you had the other scrunched hard into the bedclothes and mattress whilst Georgie had moved around behind you and had started applying oil around the tight ring forming around the baby’s head.

That’s when we heard her panicked gasp. Stella was the first to realise and asked what was up.

Whilst there was a certain protrusion now between your legs which was no doubt the next baby… it was certainly not the baby’s head. The baby was coming out breech. And to make matters just that little bit worse, her legs were tucked up inside you making everything all the more complicated - and bigger - to push out.

“It’s burning already” you cried. “I thought I’d nearly had the head again… I’m… i’m…” you lost focus on what you were saying as you put all the force you could muster into pushing once more, the need overwhelming you.

“My back, my back!” I cried, letting off the push as the unusual position of the baby put pressure on the nerves there. Any progress I’d made was lost, and her bum disappeared back inside. At least it took the edge off the burning.

“What’s wrong, love?” Stella asked as you removed yourself from my lap and crawled to the other side of the bed. “I know we were hoping for another head-down birth, but it’s not like we didn’t prepare for this.”

“Pretty common, really,” Georgie added, giving your thigh a little pat as she tried to reassure us both.

“It’s not that, it’s — ah, fuck!” It was a little that, but mostly it was that the contractions now felt like daggers in your spine. Your arms gave out under you so that you were laying on your side facing me. You grabbed for my hand and squeezed, twisting and writhing in a futile attempt to find some sort of relief even as Georgie and Stella attempted to hold your legs apart. You never got more than a couple of half-hearted pushes in before you’d cry out and shift uncomfortably.

“You have to let her come,” Georgie soothed, a little shaken by your inability to focus.

“I can’t- I don’t know why it hurts so much more this time.” You brushed a hand across your slightly deflated belly before balling it into a fist and jamming it into the small of your back. “Help me,” you whimpered, too tired to help yourself.

“Let’s try a different position,” I suggested, rubbing my thumb across your knuckles in sympathy.

You nodded, but the next contraction was already starting. “Mm, hurry,” you warned as the three of us not currently pushing out a baby hurriedly flipped you over so that you were on all fours. Your arms were shaking, so no sooner had you got into position, you dropped to your elbows, burying your face into a pillow as your ass stuck up in the air. You felt someone’s hands – unmistakably female - on your thighs, traveling up to spread apart your folds.

“She’s right there,” Stella said. “I can still see her little bum sitting right inside you like this.”

“Want to try giving a little push for us?” I asked, close to your ear.

You gave a little grunt of acknowledgement, hunching up and bearing down as best you could. The burning instantly returned and you hissed, tensing your legs and clenching the pillow in a death grip.

Georgie tsk-ed. “Focus that energy, mama.” She cupped her hand over your bulging sex. “Right here now.”

You released a shaky breath, pulled in a fresh gulp of air, pressed back into her palm, and pushed.

“There you go, just like that,” she praised, tracing her fingers around my tight hole.

You rocked back and forth with each push, as if the added momentum would get her out faster. But over the course of several more contractions, you could never get her out past a modest crown.

“I think I need to stand,” you finally huffed after the last push had you seeing stars. It was hard to breathe in this position and your legs were starting to go numb.

Georgie wasted no time in dropping a towel on the floor while Stella and I helped you slide your legs to the ground. You planted your feet wide and pressed your hands into the mattress, belly and tits pulled low by gravity and half a newborn butt bulging out of your vagina. “I must look so hot right now,” you joked, once again leaning forward so that you were on your elbows.

“Honestly?” Georgie said, giving my pose a once over.

“Incredibly hot,” I finished for her, giving your ass a playful bite as I made my way to my knees between your legs.

Another contraction wound its way through your belly and around your back, and you gritted your teeth to keep from crying out.

“Push, mama,” I said, sensing your hesitation.

“Hooooo,” you breathed out with the push, bending at the knees as the pressure barreled down between your hips. “Hnghhhhahh!” You wailed as the stinging burn intensified. “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you muttered over and over as the pain not only remained, but continued to get worse. “It’s burning, why is it still burning!”

“I’m sorry, love,” Stella rubbed your back as you sobbed at the end of a contraction. “When they’re head first, you get the crowning over with and you’re basically done. But with her hips coming first, you’re gonna feel that ring of fire with her whole body, yeah?”

You sniffled, nodded. “And… how much of her is out now?”

“About this much” it was Georgie, holder her fingers an inch or so apart, but she was stood out of your line of site so you couldn’t tell.

“Numbers… or get your ass over here and show me.” The incessant pain was starting to grind on you. You blew out a calming breath. Had to keep on keeping calm, letting it get to you was a sure fire way of making things worse.

Georgie went red with embarrassment, so focused on watching the action unfold that she forgot that you couldn’t likely bend round to see her.

“Sorry babe! Silly of me. You have about 3 inches poking out of you, and each push gets us a bit more. We can see baby’s thighs and she’s kind of folded in half so you’re pushing out belly and thighs right now. And oh god it looks so strange compared to the head. But you’re doing great… let’s just hope our little miss doesn’t have thunder thighs.”

I let out the snort of a laugh before I caught it, not wanting to dishearten you, but you certainly noticed.

“I’ll have you know…” you stopped for a grunt and pushed for a few moments interrupting your flow. You roared out and grasped hold of things, the effort you were putting in was massive at this point - no doubt exhausting as well. You were left panting as the contraction ended.

“Women in my family have very sexy, sleek thighs. If that’s the case, it’s from his DNA”

Your hand shook as you reached between your own legs, feeling the unfamiliar protrusion distorting the skin there. You tried to pull gently at the stretched outline, but whimpered and flinched as it became too much.

“Just let it stretch,” Georgie coached, taking back over the job of supporting the emerging butt.

You threw your hips back into a deeper squat with the next contraction, so much so that Georgie had to scramble back to get out of your way. A guttural moan escaped you as you curled around your belly, bearing down in equal parts instinct and desperation.

It was like all the air being forced to one side of a balloon animal, all that pressure building up behind and pressing out with nowhere to release. Every part of you ached, exhausted, in some kind of pain or another — or multiple kinds simultaneously.

“I have to- get her out!” you yelled, coming off a push that held everything you thought you had left. “Why isn’t she coming out?”

“You’ve just to get her past her hips. The rest will come easier after that,” Georgie explained cheerfully.

You frowned at her even though she couldn’t see you. “And the second baby was supposed to come easier after giving birth the first time,” you grumbled.

“My thighs,” I said, which threw you off enough to turn to look at me. I was smiling, somewhat sympathetically. “She’s definitely got my family’s thighs.” You let out something between a laugh and a sob and I pushed your hair back to kiss you on the temple. “You want to try a full squat?”

You had no idea if that would help — at this point, you’d hope for nothing but try anything — but Stella and I were already turning you around to face outward.

“Hey, beautiful,” Georgie said, giving you a little peck on the lips since she was finally able to see your face. “Have I told you how amazingly sexy you are like this?” she waggled her eyebrows.

“Let’s see how sexy you feel when it’s you here in a few months.” Her eyes widened, but more out of excitement than anything else. We’d see just how long that would last. “Ooh, another. Another!” you shouted, just as I settled in behind you on the bed to hold you up.

You pressed back against my chest between my legs and hooked your arms over my thighs to keep you upright as your ass dropped toward the floor. You squeezed and pressed forward, opening your knees out wide and tilting your hips up. Stella held up a large mirror so that we could see the progress as you pushed.

“Ooooh she’s so big, she’s not going to fit!” you cried, as each push only drew you wider.

“Yes, yes she is, look!” I said excitedly, pointing toward the mirror.

She was now out to the equivalent of her brother’s whole head, and the pain of crowning was still just as all-consuming as when it had begun. “Oh god, it hurts. Oh fuck, she’s got your torso too!” you wailed as you continued to push for what seemed like forever.

“Breathe! Breathe, mama, it’s okay,” Stella soothed as your desperation caused you to keep pushing even when there was no contraction. “She’s close. She’s so close.”

You looked in the mirror. Almost all of our daughter’s body had been born, but her legs were still folded, tucked up inside and keeping you stretched to the fullest.

“Next one,” I promised. “Next contraction you’ll have her out.”

You were devolving into whimpers, the constant burn-aching between your legs becoming too much to bear. “I’m going for it” you grunted… “this better be the last one, or I’m never letting you near me again!”

Neither one of us tried to correct you or make any sort of sarcastic quip.

As your eyes scrunched down and you started to moan loudly we actually saw the baby slide forward - Georgie’s hands supporting the majority of the baby until you let out a wail, soon followed by an exclamation of “finally!”

The baby’s legs had finally came out and boy they were long. Once the feet were born they sprung back into place flopping over Georgie’s wrists who had to adjust her hold because of the shift in balance but you had done it. Myself and Stella congratulated you, kissing and cuddling you, as Georgie shouted on, otherwise too preoccupied to give you any physical contact.

You were elated. You knew you had to still push out the head, but for now you could rest. Get your breath. Relax.

It was short lived though as your body decided it wanted the head out - now. The next contraction only gave you 30 seconds of respite before you wailed “no… too soon” and closed your eyes again, the next push upon you.

“It was supposed to be quick. This part was supposed to be quick!” you lamented when the next contraction didn’t bring the head out. You’d given two strong, solid pushes, but apparently either your strength was too small or her head was too big.

“It’s okay, you’ve got time,” Stella said from between your legs, having moved to help Georgie support both you and the baby from this awkward angle.

“Time. So much time. I’m tired,” you whined, draping dramatically in my arms and making me chuckle. “Can’t you just pull her out?” Your knees, hips, feet and… everything ached and you were only partially kidding.

“We’ll do everything we can, but you still gotta push, mama,” Georgie said.

You weren’t ready for the intense burning to return, but your body didn’t care — it wanted her OUT. The next contraction came swiftly and with a vengeance, squeezing and bearing down hard before you had a chance to catch your breath.

“Push, push!” we all encouraged you, chanting in unison.

And you did, if somewhat weakly. It was strange to feel so empty and yet so full at the same time. There was nothing left in your womb / stomach area besides organs and extra fluids, but your hips and vagina burned as they held tightly to the head of our daughter.

You could feel her trying to release. Stretching and receding, stretching and receding. Her little chin emerged and you gasped as the reverse crown pried you open wide once more.

“That’s it, now you’ve got her. Big pushes now,” Georgie said excitedly.

You shifted, pushing yourself on my thighs a tiny bit so that you could drop back down, adding gravity to the weight of your pushes.

“You’ve got the nose now,” Stella narrated as we watched the painstakingly slow emergence in the mirror.

You blew out a breath, nodded, and gave one more primal yell, throwing your head back into my chest bearing down with everything you had left. The white-hot searing pain peaked, then left as quickly as it had come as the rest of the head finally slipped out, a small gush of bloody fluid following it. Finally the ordeal was over. We gathered the full family together, and shared a bond that only our family dynamic could really have.

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Happy new year from the UK!

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Twins at the wedding - Part 3

“What the FUCK?!”

You nearly dropped the baby in your arms when Sophie yelled and dropped her comically large bouquet. Greg wisely spun around and looked in any direction that wasn’t your naked body.

“I came to see if you were alright after, you know, the weird end to the ceremony and then you not showing up to the reception. Guess you weren’t.” She gathered up the lace and tulle gathered at her feet and walked toward me. “Why didn’t you say anything.”

Maybe it was the hormones, or maybe you were either afraid or awkward, or maybe you were just really glad to see your best friend at this moment, but you burst into tears. “I… didn’t… want… to ruin… your wedding day,” you managed between sobs as she wrapped her arms around you.

“Aw, babe, you could never. I get a godson and a husband all at once—happiest day of my life.”

A familiar pressure was beginning to build in your core and the well of emotion faded back to a focused calm—this wasn’t over yet. “About to be two,” you said, catching my eye over her shoulder. I rushed over and took the baby from you before your energy was concentrated elsewhere.

“What, now?”

As much as you loved Sophie, she was not much of a planner, and you were not surprised that the thought hadn’t occurred to her. “Soon.”

“Are you having a contraction right now?” she asked, noticing your pinched expression. You were busy controlling your breathing and just nodded, so she pulled you closer against her for support.

“Your dress,” you groaned out, trying to keep your body and its various fluids as far from the clean white fabric as possible. Luckily you’d just gotten out of the shower and were relatively clean, but who knew how long you would stay that way. You weren’t sure how well amniotic fluid came out of lace.

She was going to wave you off, but glanced at the mess that was on the floor by the chair and thought better of it.

“Maybe we should call an ambulance?” Greg suggested to the door that he was leaning heavily against.

“Maybe it’s a little too late for that?” Sophie called back. “It’s too late for that, right?”

You nodded in confirmation. “But you don’t have to be here for this. We’ve already done it once on our own…” She gave me an ‘are you serious right now’ look and you conceded. “Or you can stay, if you want.”

She looked positively giddy at that and kissed you on the cheek.

To avoid damaging the dress, Sophie was wearing shorts under her dress - because of course she was - and borrowed Greg’s undershirt to wear. He was given the task of holding the baby while the rest of us focused on getting his twin delivered. You could already feel him shifting, dropping, lowering.

It wouldn’t be long now.

The next few minutes were a whirlwind of activity.

I held the baby clutched against my chest as Sophie and Greg rushed into the bathroom to get changed.

You in turn focus your attention on me, grabbing my shoulder for support as you feel things beginning again, widening your stance a little subconsciously, and closing your eyes to ride the wave, as the contractions weren’t too tough - yet.

I suddenly hear a yell from the bathroom. I kind of predict what they have just found. “Placenta” I call out, and I feel your shoulders shake as you struggle to hold in a laugh.

Greg pops his head out the door. “Thanks man, we were worried her insides had fell out or something.”

“They, uhhh, kind of did” you manage to say.

Greg catches a view of your swaying ass then looks at me “sorry guys, looks like this has been hell.”

“Naaah…” I retort. “Best day of my life, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“Glad to hear it” you grunted into my shoulder as the contraction peaked. I felt your fingers dig into my flesh as the worst of the pain hit you, followed a few seconds later by a sigh as it released.

“Got anywhere you want to be?” I asked.

You shook your head against my shoulder. “Right here, right now is fine for me.”

We were deep into the next contraction before those two emerged from the bathroom. “Wedding dresses are NOT easy to get out of” moaned Sophie.

You didn’t give them any acknowledgement, just sat with your head buried in my shoulder, quietly humming to yourself whilst swaying. The baby was starting to squirm again, so I twitched my head to summon Sophie over and offer up the baby to her.

“Can you put him on the bed and try and pen him in so he can’t roll over?”

She took the baby from my arms and between the two of them, they lay the baby down and wedged him either side with pillows. I watched from across the room.

“Thanks guys. Greg, can you keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t roll over and you know, stays alive and stuff.” I wasn’t really in a mood to mince my words at this point in time.

“On it” he confirms as he smiles down to the wriggling human below his gaze.

“And what can I do?” Asked Sophie. “Guess you can call me your doula now.” She seemed to certainly enjoy the prospect of being involved whilst you give birth.

“Do you even know what a doula does?” you asked, slightly exasperated.

She scoffed, insulted. “If you recall, I was actually training to be a doula once.”

“Was that before or after acupuncturist?” Sophie had a lot of interests, none of which seemed to last more than a few months - in fact, it was somewhat of a mystery how Greg had managed to keep her attention for so many years.

“Before. But after equine therapist,” she said, as if these were completely normal career paths to jump between.

Greg was looking at her with such adoration, but you just rolled your eyes. “Okay, but do you really know what you’re…” your words were cut off with a gasp and then a moan that bordered on obscene as she pressed her hands firmly into just the right spot in your lower back.

Greg flushed a bit, but Sophie was grinning from ear to ear. “Nice, right?”

“Understatement,” you sighed, leaning further into her touch.

I sidled up beside her, taking careful note of what she was doing. “I’ll have to remember that for later,” I said. Then, leaning closer to your ear, “I thought I was the only one who could get you to make that sound.”

“Mm, I don’t care who does it, just don’t stop,” you said breathily. I chuckled, but returned to focus when you started humming in concentration. You squeezed my shoulder as your knees bent slightly, your breaths coming out shaky and uneven.

“Breathe, babe. Slow and steady,” Sophie reminded you in a calm, low tone.

“I can’t, I feel—“ you hissed in pain and just shook your head, unable to get the words out.

“I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong. What are you feeling right now?”

You swayed your hips and tried to put it into words. “I just thought there would be more room in there after…” you nodded toward the squirming baby on the bed, “but it still feels so tight. So much pressure.”

I put my hand to your stomach to feel for myself. “It’s definitely gone down some,” I observed. My hand travelled lower, pressing in gently to feel the baby still inside, causing you to wince, I let go, apologetically, adding, “definitely still another big baby in there though. And your waters haven’t even gone for him yet.”

“Ah, well that explains it,” Sophie said. Then she gasped excitedly, quickly releasing and then replacing her hands on me at my resulting glare. “That means I’ll get to be here when your water breaks! Oh, oh! Can I check you to see how low the baby is?”

Now you knew she definitely didn’t have the level of training required for that. “Soph—“

“Right, right, too much. Sorry, I’m just… really excited for you. And to be here with you.”

You reached back and wrapped your fingers around her forearm, giving it a little squeeze. “Me too.”

You held on a little too long and I noticed just how tired you looked. “You want to change positions? Maybe rest a little bit?”

“I don’t know how that would be possible,” you admitted. “These contractions are getting worse and everything is so sore and—“

“I’ve got an idea.” Sophie bounded off into the bathroom and came back with a couple of towels and a robe. She folded the towels up on the floor beside the bed and helped me get down to my knees on them. Your upper body remained supported by the mattress while you were still free to sit or rock without putting any additional pressure on your belly or pussy. Then she draped the robe over your back and shoulders, suddenly you realised you had been cold until the fabric was around you. “Better?” she asked.

You hummed in confirmation, but buried your face into the crook of your elbow as another contraction began to build. You felt me take one of your hands in mine and squeeze, so you squeezed back.

“That’s it, just focus on your breathing, mama,” Sophie encouraged from behind you. “Baby will be here before you know it.”

I clambered down to my knees to be next to you at the foot of the bed, hand grasped in yours as you squeezed tightly, we both had our heads bowed like we were praying.

I looked over and saw your eyes clench closed and your jaw tighten as the force of the contraction built up around you.

“Just ride it out. You’re strong. Nothing you haven’t already beaten” I spoke low and slow to you.

Sophie looked a little like a lost dog - she paced back and forth trying to find something to do or somewhere to be. You can tell she wanted to copy me and get down on your opposite side but there was no room. She settled for coming in behind you and pressing her hands into your shoulders and massaging them.

You didn’t react - a little too deep in dealing with the pain, so she gave up after a few moments. “No” you managed to grunt out.

I looked up and smiled at her “I think that means she liked it” I saw your head bob as a confirmation out of the corner of my eye.

As Sophie returned to her ministrations, the contraction finally lost most of its ferocity and your moan echoed out around the room, and finally you felt up to speaking. “I don’t know how you do it but you have the perfect grip and pressure.” Your tone was appreciative.

Sophie was giggling “Just lucky I suppose. Though the horses never complained.”

You blew air out from your pursed lips in imitation of a horse and that was it, the room burst into laughter.

As the laughing calmed, Greg came out of his shell a bit. “Can I do anything for you guys - the baby’s sleeping and definitely breathing. Kinda feeling like a loose end just standing here.”

You ponder for a moment then say “I put some water in the minibar fridge earlier, I could do with a drink.”

Greg gave an enthusiastic ‘on it’ response as we heard him move from the other side of the bed, open the minibar, grab the bottle of water, and we heard it sloshing into a glass.

Your body picked this time for the next contraction, and as he walked up to you offering you the glass, you shook your hand free of mine a second and put a finger up to signify ‘one moment please.’

That moment lasted a full minute. As it peaked you let out a deep sonorous moan, all the more aided by Sophie’s fingers in your shoulder and lower back. She had actually remembered something she had seen before and kneeled down behind you and squeezed your hips together. You couldn’t say anything but it felt heavenly.

Finally after things calmed down, you leaned back on your haunches and accepted the glass of water.

As you drank deep from the glass, a thought came to my mind. “Greg, how’s your phone?”

He took it out of his pocket “full signal, do you want me to ring for the ambulance?” He asked.

“No… how’s the battery?” I corrected.

“Pretty much full. I’ve been a bit preoccupied today to use it… why?” He sounded a little confused.

“Can you record her pushing the baby out? We don’t have any video of the first twin, but an extra pair of hands would be useful in that regard.”

Greg blanched. “That’s a bit inappropriate isn’t it, me looking at your wife’s pussy?”

You grin, but Greg is facing away from you so he can’t see it. “Greg, I give you permission to look at my pussy. Think of it more like a very small door that something surprisingly big wants to come out of…”

Sophie piped up. “What about those strippers you went to see last weekend on your stag do. You see plenty of tits and ass then?”

Greg went from white to red instantly. “Yeah… but I wasn’t married then.” A moment later, realising that he was outnumbered three to one he said “OK point taken I’ll record your video.”

It was Sophie’s turn to flush with colour. “Could I… erm… keep a copy? It’s not every day you get to say you helped someone give birth and I’d like to look back on it too.”

As the next contraction ramps up and you hand back the glass of water, rapidly grabbing my hand, you announce “if you keep on doing whatever it is your hands are doing, then you can have whatever you want. I’ll even name my first born daughter after you…”. You then started to moan.

It was already so different from the first birth. Yes, you were already tired and sore, which made things more difficult, but you knew what to expect now. The contractions were painful, but familiar, and you had much better awareness of what all those different kinds of pain in your body meant. The slow tightening and release of a contraction. The sharp sting of the full amniotic sac pressing low. The deep, ever present and ever building pressure of the baby moving down into position. He had been at the top of your belly, and had much further to travel to engage in the birth canal, but you could feel him trying to shift into place.

A thought suddenly occurred to you. “Do you think he’s head down?” you tried to feel around on the outside of your stomach, but there was still too much fluid rounding out your bump and he was too far down. “What if he’s breech? Isn’t that common with twins?” The uncertainty that had come with the first birth was upon you again and your breathing sped up. “I don’t know if we’re ready for a breech birth.”

I stroked your hair and brushed my thumb across the worry lines that had formed on your forehead. “Don’t worry about that now. Don’t focus on anything but what your body is telling you.” When you still looked wary, I said, “And if you ever feel like something’s off, I’m sure there’s a doctor staying in one of these ridiculously overpriced rooms somewhere.”

“Hey,” Sophie protested weakly.

“He’s not wrong,” Greg added, earning him a light whack from his wife. “I’m just happy you’re happy,” he said on a sighing, almost defeated tone, as if this was an argument he’d lost more than once before.

“Oh. Mm, hmmm,” You hummed as another contraction began to build. Your head was back to its bowed position as you closed your eyes and tried to measure your breaths. Sophie was still working her magic on your muscles and you tried to focus on that pleasant sensation, but the pain kept drawing you back in. “Things are—hngh—picking up,” you warned, blowing out several rapid breaths in an attempt to keep your body relaxed.

“Oh, is it time?” Greg asked nervously, perking up from his position on the bed and fumbling with his phone so much it skittered to the floor.

I chuckled. “Not yet. Trust me, you’d know if she was close to crowning.”

“But feel free to film any of this,” Sophie said, a little too enthusiastically. “It’s alright if he films this, right?” you gave a single nod, and that was enough for her. “It’s just so exciting! I mean, I’ve always found the process of giving birth so empowering, so raw and sensual. You’re the most in sync with your needs and instincts than you’ll ever be again in your life.”

“Soph…” you whined.

“What? Don’t you feel powerful, and primal?” you practically growled at her and her grin widened. “See? So sexy.”

You knew I had a thing for seeing you like this, so didn’t know why you were surprised that someone else might enjoy it in the same way. Even Greg was having to shake his head and adjust himself in response to Sophie’s commentary.

You let the contractions continue to crash over you in waves, only able to relax at all because of my words and Sophie’s hands. But eventually they both lengthened and the time between them shortened – and to make matters worse, your knees ached and legs were half asleep.

“I need to lie down,” you panted, barely able to speak through your harsh breathing. The two of us tried to lift you up, but that just made you nauseous, so shook your head. “Floor.”

Our firstborn was in his makeshift bed of pillows, but luckily this fancy place had about a dozen to spare and I made a nest of soft things to cushion your joints as you laid down on your side. I kept my hand in yours, draped over your waist and resting on your belly, for you to squeeze while Sophie drenched a washcloth in cold water, folded it up, and placed it over your eyes. Your breaths were coming out more like whimpers and you were shaking, but not from the cold – adrenaline had its hold on you.

Gradually, your punctuated gasps turned to long, sustained groans. The pressure felt worse now than it ever had the first time, maybe because the baby was so low and your water still hadn’t broken yet. The residual soreness wasn’t helping either.

Just when you thought things would come to a head and something would give way, the contractions spaced back out again, giving you time to catch your breath while another all too familiar urge began to build.

Your legs flopped open, exposing yourself to the room. Greg’s face was priceless, trying to look anywhere but directly at you.

I took a moment to glance down and noticed the starting suggestions of a bulge around your perineum. Things were starting to happen.

“I need” you grunted out between panting breaths.

“What? How can I help” asked Sophie.

You looked at me. I saw in your eyes immediately what you wanted. “Clit. You know what to do.” Sophie’s mouth dropped open as she watched me reposition closer to your hips.

“It helps her relax into it.” I say as I grasp one of your hands in mine and the second finds its requested position between your legs.

Your eyes close as I make contact then suddenly you’re grimacing. I know you’re pushing. “Good girl, let’s see you push for me, big strong pushes” I say.

You nod your head as you dig your heels into the floor and press your pelvis into my hand, rocking back and forth feeling my fingers brush back and forth against your nub.

Sophie just sat there, flabbergasted, hands on her knees down on her haunches as she watched this unfold.

“She’s pushing, should I record now?” Greg piped up from behind.

“No way” cried Sophie. “She’s basically getting finger fucked right now. That’s not giving birth.”

You gasped “record the fucking video. And let me tell you, when you’re doing this… give this a try. It helps.” You had barely had a chance to get your words out when you moaned out again, all your focus back on pushing.

Your moans broke out into a kind of mantra. “Come… come… come…” you chanted.

Sophie turned back to Greg “her or the baby?”

I smiled. “Probably she means both.”

Unfortunately, no one came during the last round of pushing. I kept my hand between your legs but ventured lower to circle around my hole. You hissed in pain and fought the instinct to jerk away.

“You’re starting to bulge a bit,” I said, probably mostly for the benefit of the recording — you were well aware of the internal pressure. “It’s just inside. Soft and squishy, though —I think it’s the amniotic sac.”

“Wait, that’s not the head?” Sophie asked, her previous disbelief replaced with intense curiosity. She leaned down between my legs to get a closer look. “I don’t even see anything.”

“You might when she starts pushing again,” I said, dipping my fingers inside once again just to double check that it was still close. When you let out a little groan I added, “Which sounds like it’s going to be very soon.”

You take a few quick breaths as the contraction builds and my thumb returned to your clit. “Yes, keep doing that,” you moaned as one of your hands gripped your thighs and you threw yourself into another push. “Mm, there’s so much pressure.”

“I see something!” Greg announced excitedly, crawling forward and getting the lens very close to its subject.

“You have zoom,” Sophie grumbled, somewhat annoyed that he was now blocking the view.

“Just keep pushing. That’s my girl,” I said, leaning down to give you a light kiss.

“Maybe he’ll be born in the caul,” Sophie commented. “I think that’s supposed to be good luck.”

You whined and pressed into my hand as I chuckled, knowing what you wanted, knowing you were close. “You need more?” You nodded, and in turn, my strokes became rougher, providing more friction.

“I’m going to—“ you gasped as the forces of pain and pleasure waged war in my centre, two different kinds of pressure building up. Your eyes were squeezed shut and your body trembled.

I leaned down to whisper into your ear, probably because, as close as Sophie and you were, she probably didn’t want to inadvertently be part of making a porno. “Let go, baby. Relax.” My tone was deep and coaxing. “Come for me.”

Your chest lifted off the floor as you pushed, hard, and let out something between a cry and a scream as everything clenched tight and then… boom.

Liquid poured out from between your legs like a fountain with enough force to make it all the way across the room, your internal muscles clenching just as the contraction ebbed and left you gasping, both in relief and pleasure.

I whispered to you one more time, “Good girl,” before sitting back up and looking to Greg. “Please tell me you got that?”

“Get it?” Announced Greg. “It nearly got me. That was kinda epic” his tone was impressed at least. Sophie was just smiling looking back and forth at the trajectory.

“Fuck” you grunted, causing everyone to focus back on you “I felt that one.”

You blew out your breath and shook your head “no rest for the wicked” you mumbled as you felt the beginnings of the next contraction. You’d let go of my hand and had each of yours on your inner thighs pressing down and giving you somewhere to refocus the pain by digging your fingers into the soft flesh around there.

I shuffle behind you and support your back, hands on your shoulders as I press and provide a little something else to distract you.

“You want me to do the clit thing?” Asked Sophie. You shook your head, not willing to open your mouth in case of a shriek escaping that might wake the baby.

Sophie looked a little crestfallen but didn’t press the matter.

My hands snaked around to your front and found your nipples. You know what I’m doing. Draped over your front I gather engorged nipples between my fingers and squeeze, eliciting a moan from you as you felt your insides twist half a second after my ministrations started. You nearly lose it, open mouthed gasping coming out as a yowl as you feel the roughness of the head pressing tight against your skin, but it had the desired effect.

“I can see it.” Yells Sophie. Then realises how noisy she had just been. There’s a grumbling noise from above us on the bed but it stops. I breathe a sigh of relief - I didn’t feel like having to deal with a fussy baby right at this moment.

“Sorry…” she whispered. “I saw it, but now it’s gone.”

“If you wake that baby up, I swear I’m stripping you of godmother status,” you grumbled somewhat petulantly. You were more frustrated than angry, and she seemed to understand.

“I’m sorry, babe. You’re doing really well — I could definitely see the head on that last one,” she said with an encouraging smile, rubbing a hand up and down one of your ankles.

“Good,” you said. Part of you was relieved that this was almost over, but another part was anxious about having to push out another baby. “I’m starting to get tired.” I kissed the top of your head from behind you and you guided my hands back to your breasts. It was a lazy tease, gentle and coaxing, but clearly your body was ready to get this baby out because the next contraction came on quickly and ferociously.

“Already?” Sophie asked when she noticed you shuffle and squirm.

“Nipple stimulation tends to ramp things up,” I explained, as you were busy humming as the intensity ramped up.

“Huh. I just assumed you two were kinky like that,” she said, helping you widen your hips.

“Hoo- it can be both,” you growled, curling forward around my belly.

“Ooh, get a shot of the head!” Sophie pointed excitedly, but apparently Greg was too slow for her liking and she just grabbed the hand that was holding the phone and yanked it down to get the front row view.

“Great framing,” Greg added, as if they were shooting a tasteful avant-garde film instead of a messy impromptu birth scene.

She took a screenshot and turned the screen around so we could see for ourselves once the contraction was over. Your bulging pussy with just a hint of the head peeking out was front and centre, taking up the majority of the frame. Behind it your belly looked mountainous, and your pushing face was equal parts agony and strength while mine was all joy and excitement.

That picture — this whole video, honestly — was probably going to feature in many future bedroom activities.

You reached down between your legs, pressed gently on the hot, distended skin, and used your fingers to gently part your folds. Another photo snapped, and when Sophie showed us, we could see that the head really was right there, sitting just inside.

“What does it feel like?” she asked, unable to look away from the picture.

“Like I’m being filled up from the inside out. Like there’s a big rock inside me that’s being tugged toward the outside by an invisible string between my legs. Like every muscle in my body contracts in sync and I can’t help but push with it.”

“Sounds intense,” Greg said genially, and you and I both gave him a look.

“That’s an understatement,” I muttered.

You kept your hand where it was as the next contraction built, willing yourself to hold off until you literally couldn’t stop. “Come on, baby. Crown for me,” you pleaded, finally giving in and pushing.

I felt your shoulders tense as you pushed, you were like a coiled spring focusing all your strength downwards. You moaned low and long throughout your effort, fingers sliding around in your opening, feeling desperately for the head.

"Just let it come…" I whisper into your ear.

You shake your head. "I'm tired. I want it… him out." The best way I could describe your tone was petulant. Your voice had a whining tone to it unlike anything I had heard today. I could tell you were starting to tire, starting to lose focus.

"You need to take a moment. Relax… let things happen." I advise.

You snap. "You're not pushing a watermelon out of a keyhole. I. Want. Him. Out."

I nod, and confirm verbally too, as you wouldn't have seen my head move. "OK. lets get him out. I need your hips nice and wide. You need to make your opening nice and big."

You shake your head. "I'm not moving. I'm his mother and he will obey me. When I say he will come out, he will come out!"

I couldn't see your face, but I was certain you were pouting. I saw it reflected in Sophie's expression. I could tell you were too tired to think straight.

"Next push" I say. "I want you to give me everything you have."

"That's what I'm doing!" you gasped.

"No… more. Do it for me, do it for our son. Biggest, strongest push you've done all day." I tried to give you my best dose of enthusiasm.

"It's coming" you grunted and you closed your eyes, pushed your chin to your chest and heaved.

"You two, grab her legs and push them back." I commanded. Before you had any chance to argue, Sophie came to one side of you, Greg to the other, both by your sides and pulled back your knees. I watched as Greg managed to stretch his other arm out with the phone and capture the four of us in a perfect selfie style frame.

Suddenly he announced "There's the fifth person in the shot" as the baby's head crowned - I looked up to the tiny frame of our baby’s head visible on the screen on his outstretched arm. You cried out with the added sensation, but it had the desired effect, there was no going back now, the head was coming out either on this contraction or the next.

You’d thought the crowning of the first baby was intense, but this was worse. At least with the first one, you still had the strength and energy to put your all behind each effort; it hurt, but it was over relatively quickly. This time, you knew what was coming, your opening was already so sore from the first birth, and your pushes were weaker, more hesitant.

The encouraging cheers of your audience helped keep you going, but it wasn’t enough. You pushed as hard as you were able for as long as you were able, but you could feel the aid of the contraction wearing off and the head was still stuck at an almost perfectly full crown.

When you finally gave up, collapsing back against me and heaving desperate pained sobs, I grabbed your hand and squeezed. “He’s never coming out!” you whined, using your other hand to tenderly probe your obscenely stretched hole.

“It’s okay, you’re so close. Next contraction, I’m sure you’ll have the head out.”

You were still panting as you looked down at the small screen image of what was going on between your legs. Your skin was pulled up and away from your body around the mountain of a head. A large round peak of the baby’s head remained exposed, holding you painfully stretched wide even between contractions, but the largest part was waiting just underneath.

“It’s not gonna fit,” you pouted, even though we both knew that wasn’t true — one way or another, that head was on its way out.

“Sure it will,” I soothed, still sympathetic despite your petulance. “You already did it once; your body knows exactly what it’s doing.”

“This is wild,” Greg commented. “The fact that your bodies can do all this…” He shook his head in amazement, and Sophie gave him an adoring look.

“Looks like it might not be too long before they’re doing this themselves,” I whispered to you, clearly having seen the same silent exchange between them as you did.

“Mm,” you hummed in agreement, slightly distracted as the tightening began to wrap itself around you again.

“You ready?” I asked. In answer, you flared your knees out to the side, and Sophie and Greg took back up their jobs in pulling them back to frame your stomach. “You can do this. Let’s get this head out.”

You blew out a quick breath, and then bore down with everything you had left. At first, it felt like nothing was happening. But as your pushing got more desperate, something finally gave way. White hot pain exploded between your legs and you couldn’t help but cry out in a high pitched keen as the widest part of the head rounded out your hole.

You stopped to take a few panting breaths, hoping the rest of the head would just slide out on its own, but no such luck — it stopped when you did. You groaned, then threw yourself into another push, grunting and growling as bit by bit the head slid out to the forehead, ears, nose, mouth. After another quick breath, and with only the tail end of the contraction, you heaved and the chin finally revealed itself. As soon as some space opened up around the neck, another huge spray of fluids released — it didn’t quite have the distance of the water break, but the volume was impressive.

You fell back against me as Sophie and Greg cheered, despite having gotten a little collateral amniotic spray.

“Good job, mama,” I praised, rubbing a hand up and down your finally somewhat deflated stomach.

Now you just had to get past the shoulders.

"I'm tired" you complained. "I'm sore, and I'm very, very tired."

I was sympathetic. My hands wrapped around your shoulders and gave you a hug - I realised right then that you were soaked with sweat following your exertions. My hand found your forehead, and sure enough, it was damp. "I have an idea" I said. You told me to continue with a mumbled acknowledgement.

"We need to get you vertical. Let gravity do its thing." I said.

"I can't stand up, there's a head right there you know." you said pointing out the obvious.

"No… he's right." Offered Sophie. "I'll help you up, he can protect the head. We can do this. Get you up and that pesky baby will just fall out."

You at least gave a chuckle to that. "OK. So we do this. Do I stand up when I'm pushing, or before?"

"I think we need to get you up now. Wouldn't want to be doing it whilst you're focused on the contraction." I offer.

"Lets get it moving then" you say "The head being out has lessened the sensation, but I know it will be back soon much like his brother."

"Agreed?" I said. You and Sophie confirmed your agreement and we moved into action.

Greg moved out of the way, dropping your leg on the floor. He repositioned himself to get a good view with the camera - I wonder if when we watch this one back we would end up getting dizzy with the amount of spinning around he was doing. Sophie got up next and kneeled down in front of you, offering her hands to you. She was going to lift up and pull you in the process.

I had the heavy lifting so to speak. I had to wrap my arms around over the top of your breasts and under your armpits, whilst leaning down to cup a hand over the head make sure nothing happened to it in case you stumbled. Good thing I had a lot of strength in my thighs - they would be burning tonight that's for certain - admitting to myself I certainly didn't have much to complain about compared to you!

"On three" I said. Sophie nodded. I counted down, and at the end of the chant, Sophie pulled, I pulled and Greg cheered as you got lifted up into a vertical position. You almost stumbled forward, but braced yourself against Sophie's shoulders as you steadied yourself.

I was behind you, now you were stood up, I kneeled back down, head pressed against your ass cheek as I reached between your legs and positioned both hands onto the baby's head. Without warning, you yelped out loud, going into an immediate push as I felt the movement of the head between my hands.

"Go, push!" I exclaimed. You didn't say anything, just roared. My stretched out fingers felt your lips spread further and further around the baby's body as it slipped further and further down.

"Go Mamma, go!" came the excited squeal from Sophie as you gave a squat and suddenly the wet, floppy form of our second son dropped into my hands. I caught the baby and offered it up between your legs as Sophie grabbed him in turn and brought him up to your chest. I managed to stand and hold onto your shoulders as you swayed back and forth, exhaustion having you on the brink of collapsing under your own weight, but the elation of having given birth to the second twin gave you energy reserves you didn't think you would have 10 minutes ago.

Your laughs mingled with tears as you held our second child. Your legs felt unsteady, but I had a firm grip on you and you leaned into it. Everything from the waist down was a mess again, but you didn’t care. You were done—our babies were finally here.

“He looks just like you,” Sophie said, standing next to me and offering a towel to wrap the baby up in.

The baby was still connected to you, making him impossible to fully swaddle, and you looked up at me. Without having to say anything, I knew what you wanted, and (after making sure you weren’t going to collapse) moved around front and made quick work of tying off and cutting the umbilical cord. As soon as I did, another mild contraction hit you and you handed off the baby as you bent forward, hands pressing into your thighs as you grunted and gave a small push.

“Oh shit, is there another one?” Greg asked, fumbling to get the camera back out, having put it away after he’d thought his part was over.

“Placenta,” you and I said at the same time.

I held you from the front, allowing you to rest your head on my chest. When I saw that nothing was happening, I coaxed, “Come on, baby, just give me a little push now.”

“I’ve already done so much pushing,” you pouted.

I hummed in agreement, running my hands soothingly up and down your arms. “You did. Pushed both of our sons out of your body. Just need to give one more push for me.” You whined and I assured you, “Just a little one.”

You removed your grip from your thighs and opted to grab onto my forearms, squatting slightly as you gave one small push — it was all I requested and all you had left to give. Luckily, it was enough. The squishy blob moved through your opening and landed on the towels that had been laid on the floor.

You would have collapsed from relief were it not for my grip on You. I led you into the bathroom to gently rinse down your legs and bottom before you returned to the bed, laying a few more towels under you to catch any fluids that might still be coming from inside you. I joined you there, picking up our firstborn twin while you held the second.

We had Greg take a few pictures of the four of us on the bed, then the six of us, though between the wedding and the birth, you doubted Sophie or Greg would have any trouble remembering the occasion. As they looked at us, I’m pretty sure I heard one of them asking if they should go ahead and start trying, and I figure you heard the same as I saw you smile. Maybe we could try and get pregnant at the same time—not that we wouldn’t have our hands full with the twins, but you had a feeling I wouldn’t be opposed to knocking you up again soon.

After several minutes, Greg finally broke the silence. “Okay, NOW can I call the ambulance?”

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Question… would there be interest in me posting old stories that I have saved that I don’t have any idea of who the original author is? I’m sure there are people from here that weren’t on the scene 5-10 years ago and may never have seen them? I’ll obviously mark them as ‘not my work’