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Hook me up to a TENS unit to give me contractions. Make me bounce on my birthing ball like a good laboring slut…but rub my lower back too because you’re a kind and loving Daddy. You can even put your hand inside me and ‘check’ my cervix, I won’t mind. Work my nipples with one hand and my clit with the other as I breathe through the simulated contractions.

Eventually it’ll be time to push, so you can lube up my inflatable while I sit on my birth stool. Push it inside me while you rub my belly, then make me count each squeeze of the pump as you inflate it to the size of a real head. Tell me to enjoy the stretch deep inside, swirl my hips around to feel the delicious pressure.

"you're doing great!"

"keep going!'

"I see the head!"

"push push push push push"

"oh wonderful pushing!"

This could be you.

Lounging all day, barely clothed, and flaunting your gorgeous, pregnant body while your crowded womb throbs with life.

I’d be waiting for you to get home, propped up against the headboard with my legs spread. It’s been an after-work ritual the past few weeks—because I’ve just been too insatiable—that you walk through the door and you’re inside of me within ten minutes. But this particular time there’s just a tingly ache at my core that can’t be held off to wait for you. It’s no surprise when my hand snakes down my body slowly, first brushing over my sensitive breasts, down to lightly cup my belly, and then hovering between my thighs as I start to softly rub myself. Head thrown back, humming softly, remembering all the times you’ve done this to me and how much better your hand feels than mine.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

I recoil my hand and snap my head up to see you, smug as ever as you lean on the door frame. A flush of red would overtake my cheeks—silly given that you’ve seen me in the most vulnerable positions possible. You walk towards me to sit on the bed, placing your hand on my knee.

“Couldn’t wait for you to get home, ‘m sorry. Just love being so full. Got caught up in how beautiful I look now.”

“Don’t ever apologize for taking care of yourself. Just prepping yourself for me ‘til I could get to you. And you were always beautiful. But now? Fuck, not even perfect would describe what you are now. Still can’t believe you’ve got my baby in there.”

I giggle a bit, because I can never fathom how you can’t believe it. How you don’t ever grasp that your babies are the only ones I’ve ever wanted, that I wouldn’t change my body like this for anyone else.

I grab your hand and place it on my swollen tummy, rubbing circles on your thumb while the warmth of your palm feels like it radiates through my whole body.

“Mhmmm. So special, yeah? Made this together.”

I absolutely love "I have to puuuuuuush!!" With such urgency. I love the "OOOHHH" and "MMMPHHHHH"s.

Like yes, narrate what's happening to you. I want the characters to talk me through what they're feeling, thinking; get specific with it. Super descriptive.

"Ohhhh my god, the baby is coming out. Oh shit, the head, the head is– oh my god I can see it. I'm so full, it's so– AGH it burnsssss!!!" Like that's my favoriteee.

"You look like you're having a contraction. Oh, okay, oh you're pushing. Baby, let's get you into the bed or something, okay? You're literally giving birth, right now. Don't tell me you're not, you're literally pushing, I can see you. You're grunting and your belly is hardening. Baby, come on. Babe, I– ooookay I think you need to take off your pants, oh my god you're crowning. I think you're crowning." Like unff give me that.

"Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck. FUCK!" Even just that tells me so much about what's going on and how badly it hurts. The timing, the emphasis.