That was the lie I kept telling myself as I waited on the subway platform. I had held labor at bay all day, pretending everything was normal while the head slipped further and further into my pelvis. “Your face is a little red, are you sure you’re okay?”s and “You look like you’re in pain, everything alright?”s had been constantly asked throughout the day as the contractions got worse and worse, the head slipped lower and lower, and the pressure went up and up…
And now I was done for the day, homeward bound, where I could call my girlfriend, and everything would be okay. It was just a quick subway ride, how bad could it be?
Well, fifteen minutes into waiting for the seemingly late subway, I found out just how bad it could be. I knew I couldn’t sit down or else I’d never get back up, so I started leaning on a support pillar about five minutes in. No one paid me any attention, and I was grateful for that small blessing. I don’t know what I’d do if someone noticed I was deep into labor. I tried just rubbing my belly, seeing if I could soothe my muscles. No use.
Now, here I was, harsh cramping every few minutes and a head grinding into my pelvis. I don’t remember when I started panting, nor did I really care. I was just glad the noise of the underground station drowned out my occasional whimper. I tried to keep it to a whimper at least, but as time went on, everything got worse. Soft whimpers turned into middling whines as cramps turned into true contractions. I could feel the peaking pressure that I felt all day bubbling in my hips, threatening to make me pop all over this platform. Just a few more minutes, and the train would be here. I can make it.
Another fifteen minutes and the contractions had become unbearable, forcing me to whimper into my arm to keep quiet. There was no way in hell I was going to let out all the groans and screams bubbling in my throat. That would attract attention, and attention was not what I needed right now. Right now, I what I needed was relief. Less pressure, lighter cramps, calmer baby, anything.
Maybe squatting would make the pressure better? Yeah, no harm in a little squat. Just sliiiide down the pillar… There we go, slowly, slowly… Ignore the rising contraction… Just like that…
I let out a small groan as some of the pressure dissipated. Squatting was looking like it was a good idea until I felt the trickle of water running down my leg. My eyes shot open, looking down. I stretched my neck forward, trying to look past my bump. Sure enough, gathering between my feet was a tiny puddle. My breath hitched in my throat as I extended a shaky hand down to my crotch. It hovered there for a moment, scared to reach up and touch my lips underneath my pants.
I didn’t need to, as the rest of my water gushed from me a second later, cascading through my pants and pooling underneath me. I had barely registered that my hand was now covered in fluids that had formerly been in my womb before the urge to push hit. And it hit hard. I let out a choked gasp as I suddenly found myself pushing. I slapped my dry hand over my lips to stop any noises, but I had a feeling it probably wouldn’t do anything.
I could feel the head descending from my cervix, sliding into my canal. I wasn’t used to things being that deep into me, much less things with that kind of size. I let out a sound that was between a whimper and a groan as my canal stretched around the big head. It hurt. It hurt more anything I had ever felt before. But what hurt more was that I was alone. I was giving on the verge of giving birth, and my girlfriend had absolutely no idea.
Of course! My girlfriend! My soaked hand dove into my pocket as soon as the contraction faded, fishing for my phone. I’d call her, she’d come get me, and I’d probably give birth in the car, but at least I’d be with her. I grabbed it as I felt the next contraction start to build, mere seconds after the last had ended. I fumbled with it for a moment and successfully turned it on…
Only to see that I had no service. A muffled sob made its way through my hand as I stared at those two words in the corner of my screen. Okay, that’s fine, maybe there’s a payphone down here. I’m pretty sure I had money. I glanced up, and my heart sunk. Somehow, the amount of people had multiplied from the few dozen that were down here when I had last looked. There was no way I was making it through the crowd.
My body didn’t want me to either, as I found myself bearing down without even thinking about it. The head stretched my tight cunt out as it descended. I wasn’t ready for this. I hadn’t even thought about how my tightness would impact my labor. I was a lesbian, so that meant I had no boyfriend to stretch me out. And I almost never used dildos, so I was as tight as could be.
The tears started almost right after I stopped pushing. It hurt, I was alone, I wasn’t ready, and now people were starting to notice. I saw someone jab his friend in the arm, looking at me and whispering. The next thing I knew, there was a phone pointed at me as I slid down the pillar into my own mess. I whimpered as someone else looked too, pulling out their own phone.
I didn’t have time to consider the consequences of giving birth in public, the contractions were nearly on top of each other now. Again, I made a noise between a whimper and a groan as I bore down for the internet to see. I bit into my hand as the head traveled further, nearing my exit.
I opened my eyes once the contraction had faded and froze. Everyone was looking at me. A small quarter-circle had formed on my right side, with the tracks on my left. I’m pretty sure there was someone behind me and on my left too. I sobbed, managing to choke out a plea. If anyone heard it, they’d didn’t move.
Again, I didn’t have time to worry about the people staring at me, as another contraction soon fell upon me. My whimper-groans turned into full groaning, only partially muffled by my hand. I squeezed my eyes shut again, bearing down as hard as I could. My crotch suddenly began to burn, causing me to yell, but I couldn’t stop pushing. I doubted I could stop pushing even if I tried. The burn spread, worsening as I continued to push. I half-heard whispers from the small crowd and picked out the words ‘crotch,’ ‘bulge,’ ‘baby,’ and ‘birth.’ Someone whispered behind me, but all I heard was the word “crowning.” Someone else said something in response, and this time I caught it.
“Holy shit, she is crowning!”
My eyes flew open as I stopped pushing, looking down at myself. Idiot. My belly, still big and firm, blocked my view of my crotch. But sometime after I sat down I had spread my legs open subconsciously. It was probably for the best, but it now meant everyone could see what I couldn’t; the small bulge of my baby’s head straining against my pants.
Frantically, I reached down to pull my pants down and to give my baby room, but it was useless. My legs were spread too wide, and the baby was too low to close them again. I groaned out loud as I pushed into my pants, feeling the tight fabric strain against the head. Hey, at least I wasn’t wearing jeans.
My groans got louder and more animalistic as the ring of fire got worse. My pussy wasn’t ready for this, it was still tight as a virgin’s. But my body didn’t care, and my baby didn’t care. I continued to push, my noises echoing around the underground space.
I had lost count of how many contractions I had pushed through. I had lost track of time. All I knew was that it was only getting worse. I screamed, abandoning my goal to keep quiet. The head stopped moving when I pushed. I tried pushing again, but still no movement. I started panicking, wondering if the baby was stuck. That was the last thing I needed right now. I grabbed my thighs, trying to spread my legs apart further as I bore down. Then I remembered. I never took off my pants. I was still pushing into them.
I sobbed, on the verge of breaking into tears as I cried out for someone, anyone to help. The burn was at its worst, and it wasn’t getting any better. Nor was my progress. The head had completely stopped in my pants. It was a push, maybe two, away from fully crowning, and I could do nothing. Nothing. Nobody in the growing crowd moved to help me as I started to beg, tears flowing my cheeks as I desperately bore down. Nothing. Nothing at all.
I was about to burst into tears when the head moved just a tiny bit forward, and I heard a pop from my crotch. Immediately I assumed the worst, that my tight pussy was starting to tear. Slowly, a hand moved from my thigh to my crotch. I almost vomited as I felt around my bulging labia, looking for the tear in my skin. I started pushing, babbling that my baby had to wait, that I didn’t want to do this. But I bore down nonetheless. I heard more pops, and with each one the head moved forward the tiniest bit. My hands grabbed my thighs as my instincts demanded I spread myself open as wide as I could. I screamed as I finally crowned, blonde head bursting out of my pants.
I sat there in shock for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. First, and probably most importantly, I didn’t tear. That I was sure of as trembling hands felt around my burning lips. Second, I had crowned the head. Apparently the pops I heard wasn’t me tearing, but seams in my pants tearing. My panties were somehow still very much intact, despite being soaked with birthing fluids and close to tearing themselves. Third, I was now soaked from the waist down with my own fluids.
I sat there, stunned as the body slowly rotated so that the shoulders could pass. I heard shutters, and I saw flashes, but I didn’t notice them until a moment later. I yelped, trying to cover my throbbing cunt and the head hanging out of it with my hands. Of course, it wasn’t any use, and the pictures had already been taken. The tears returned as I begged people not to look. Again, if anybody heard me, they didn’t move.
I got maybe a minute to breathe and ‘relax’ before the shoulders were in place and ready to go. I was exhausted, humiliated, horrified and numb at the same time. I was done with this, and something inside of me took over. I screamed as I pushed, feeling the burn that announced the head return. It was worse, way worse, even with the extra space given to the shoulders and the stretching from the head. My voice started to crack, then quiet. I bulged out, shoulders just behind my lips.
With a silent cry, one shoulder popped out of my abused cunt. Things started to blur. Someone was starting to yell. It might’ve been me. I blinked, trying to keep my eyes open as I began to push again. Things got blurrier. Everything started to quiet suddenly. My pussy strained, trying to close even as I tried to push. It was right there…
I felt the second shoulder pop out of me, the body sliding from my burning pussy, the last of my fluids adding to my mess. Seemingly automatically, I reached down and picked up the wailing newborn between my legs. I felt empty. Everything started to fade as I held my daughter to my chest.
The last thing I heard before I passed out was the subway, pulling up beside me.
