~~~

holding his legs open as he screams, letting the baby descend naturally, against his will, crying and writhing as his hole is opened, begging to close his legs

opening his legs wider, not letting him wiggle away from the pain, opening him wider until his thighs tremble from the stretch, watching until he gasps, breathless, as the baby descends through his open cunt

listening to the rapidly building whine coming from his throat, as another contraction makes the baby descend until it breaches his lips, he begs again to let him close his legs, to let him get leverage to push

his legs are kept in place and a hand spreads his pussy open, feeling the head, he sobs as another contraction pushes the baby down, his arms are tied and his lungs crushed as his chest is pushed into his belly, his back tenses and tries to straighten to give him leverage, but he can't move, he can't push, he cries as the baby is pushed out slowly, contraction-by-contraction

During an important exam, twins, overdue, with a friend.

~ I kept having to shift my hips on the hard plastic chair, the top of the desk pressing uncomfortably into the tender area of my ribs where my belly once firmly sat before it dropped, now hanging nearly over my whole lap in a lopsided torpedo. I was so exhausted. I got almost no sleep yesterday between cramming as much as I could for the exam I was currently suffering through, and breathing through the braxton hicks and back twinges and bladder punches the twins put me through the whole evening and into the night. This was my midterm for the last gen ed class I had to take before graduating next semester, and the consequence for failing the class is either summer school or not graduating, neither of which were viable options, so I had to focus on the Intro to Philosophy and Logic test in front of me. I groaned softly under my breath and then began to quietly pant as another cramp gripped my lower back and wrapped around my belly, setting my pencil down to rub my hand firmly across the broad side of my bump. These practice contractions are starting to get extremely annoying. And they had to be that, the baby book said that braxton hicks are relieved by walking around, and I spent hours last night pacing my tiny dorm as the cramps came over me in waves, not quite consistent in time enough to worry me any more than any other labor scare has in the past week I’ve been overdue. They had to be practice contractions that just happened to be getting closer and closer together... Just like the pressure over my hips and my pelvis had to be from the babies shifting around and not from my body slowly working them down. And like the very full feeling just above my cunt that had me clenching my muscles was obviously the need for a bathroom break. And also the spotting and light leaking that had me wearing a pad was normal spotting and not me losing my mucus plug during class earlier today. None of this had to do with the fact that these babies should have come a week ago, and my belly was dropped so low it rested between my knees. I breathed out as the cramp released me, not noticing how much time had passed, and hurried to continue working on the essay portion of the exam in front of me. Thankfully the professor didn’t seem to notice anything either, her eyes firmly fixed on the enormous pile of research papers that sat in front of her, in the process of being read and graded. She also didn’t notice as a tiny, balled up shred of paper hit the back of my neck, forcing me to turn and look at my best friend in my track, who was suffering through this final gen ed with me. He raised an eyebrow at me and crudely mimicked the act of spreading his legs and motioning to something shooting out from between them, accompanied by a questioning thumbs up and thumbs down. I rolled my eyes at him and turned back around to continue working, my essay about a fourth of the way through with a cool 45 minutes left to complete it. I had to focus, and I couldn’t let my friend or the damn babies distract me from doing well in this class. I can hear him sigh behind me, and can feel his gaze boring a hole in the back of my head, but elect to ignore him. I see my phone light up where it sits on top of my backpack, and a notification pops up on the lockscreen under his name. | Dude, you can’t just ignore that you’re extremely overdue and literally actively about to pop out those babies, holy shit. | A moment passes. | I’m timing them, disphit. | I grumbled, shaking my head and returning to furiously writing about Pythagoras and universal ratios.

After a while of scribbling, though not as long as I would have liked, I could feel my back muscles start to tighten up, and I try to squeeze my thighs shut on instinct. It’s an action that does more harm than good, as I squeeze my already contracting belly between my legs, and press it up against the hard surface of the desk’s bottom, the vice grip of my muscles tightening further in reaction to the external force. I let out a soft hiss and hunch over my drum tight belly, both hands frantically rubbing at my bloated flanks to try and soothe the pain, but it doesn’t help. The cramp lingers, and I’m forced to ride it out by breathing heavily through my nose. I’m bouncing lightly in my seat, my already sore and achy pussy twinging every time it grinds down into the plastic, but my hips feel so tight that I need to move them. I can feel one of the babies’ heads shift down to rest right over the base of my pelvis, head pressing down right between my hips, and it feels like if I move wrong it’ll just fall out of me. The other is still up higher, but I can tell its head is facing downward because it gives several firm kicks to my ribs, unhappy with the pressure squeezing around it and forcing it down. There’s a light on my periphery. | THAT WAS SIX MINUTES. HOSPITAL. NOW. | I once more ignore his text, not even waiting for the contraction to end before I’m back to writing my essay, now at least half way done. I’ve always been a quick writer, and we were given a set of potential prompts beforehand, so I had an idea of what I wanted to write anyways. I could do this. I could finish this and then I could go to the hospital and have my babies.

I quietly groaned my way through another four contractions before I got to the conclusion of the essay, pausing every still-six-minutes-somehow to let out a steady stream of air in my nose and the back of my throat. The bouncing was consistent, except for when I had to stop to either swivel my hips, or slide a hand between my trembling thighs to apply pressure to where I could feel my lips starting to bulge a little. Fuck, the head was right there. I could feel it. I had been fighting the growing urge to push for the last three contractions, knowing that I probably was almost totally dilated, if not at 10 centimeters already. My phone had been blinking with light as well, my friend urging me to finish the exam later, telling me we needed to go now, asking if I was insane. I continued to ignore it, focusing on the last few lines I needed to fill out the end of my essay. I’d done it. The exam was over.

I put my pencil down, and let out a breath of release, my whole body naturally relaxing as the weight of academic failure was brushed off my shoulders. But that was a big mistake. As if sensing the permission it was being given, immediately my belly was caught in a vicious contraction that had me clinging to my desktop, with one hand clutching my bump in alarm as it was gripped in a cramp so strong that the outline of my uterus was visible, and the torpedo droop of it stood straight forward. I let out a hiss of pain through my teeth, tears immediately springing to my eyes as I felt the bulge in my pussy press further. I couldn’t help it as my legs shifted ever so slightly apart, and I let out a soft grunt. *POP* *Splash!* The sound of my water breaking seemed gargantuan in the silence of the classroom, and immediately all eyes were on me, panting softly and holding my belly in both hands as a wet spot spread across the crotch of my pants and the carpet beneath me. I was flushed as I quickly gathered my backpack and handed in my exam, gesturing with my head for my best friend to follow. He scrambled after me, muttering apologies to the professor and assurances that he’d make up the exam later as he quickly moved to support me. As soon as I got out of the lecture hall and into the hallway, I let myself moan. My massively overdue waddle was pronounced, legs bowed and gait heavy as I dripped a trail of amniotic fluid behind me, shuffling toward the exit as fast as I could. “Holy shit, are you fucking nuts? I’m calling a fucking ambulance, your water broke, and we’re at least twenty minutes from the nearest hospital and I don’t think you have that long, idiot!” My friend grabbed my backpack from me, and I let him as I stopped right before we got to the exit, pausing our escape by putting a hand on his arm. “What?” He asked, finger stilling over the call button. I swallowed heavily, suddenly feeling like I might throw up. “I definitely don’t have that long. The head’s coming out.” My voice was a mournful groan as I felt another contraction pull every muscle in my back and belly taut. I bent my knees and held a hand to my lower back, frantically squeezing at the tight muscles there as my other hand reached down into my sweatpants to cup my pussy where I could feel it starting to spread through my pad and underwear. Fuck, I was pushing. I didn’t mean to be, but it’s like I didn’t have a choice. There was so much pressure, and the baby was coming now. I whimpered a bit, squeezing my eyes shut to push once more before the contraction relented enough that I could start hobbling in the direction of the men’s room. My friend quickly rushed after me, holding me by the elbow and one hip and ushering me along as his phone’s dial tone rang and rang and rang on speakerphone. As soon as I got to the restroom, my knees hit the tile. I ignored everything else around me. I grabbed my thighs, digging my nails into them as my back muscles screamed and my gravid stomach tightened so hard that I could see the shape of it change under my shirt, shifting up and under my ribs instead of hanging down low into my lap. I grunted with the effort as my body started to once more push against my will, eyes scrunching up as I finally gave in and let out a strangled moan. One hand quickly moved from my thigh to my crotch as I felt the bulge in my panties grow. I was going to crown, and my pants were still on. I couldn’t speak while the contraction still gripped my body, reduced to grunts and groans and half-screams as I tried to work the first baby out of me, but I was able to pull down the waistband of my sweats enough that my friend realized what was going on. He quickly set down the phone, the first responder on the other line audible but incomprehensible to me as I panted between hellish contractions. All of a sudden, my friend's hands were there, gently yanking down my sweats and starting to roll my maternity panties down my thighs. My fingers found their way back to my pussy, where I could feel the baby’s head was almost at a full

crown, and I moaned at the feeling of being stretched in that way. “Oh god, it’s almost out. Oh fuck, oh fuck, I’ve gotta- I’ve gotta… Hhh? HhhhHHHNNNNNG.” My knees slid as far apart as they could with my sweatpants still around them, and immediately my whole body was on fire. “HHHHHNNNNNNNNG oh god, burning, burning, the head-” I groaned, and leaned forward my belly drum tight but still massive enough to brush the cool tile. My hand was trapped between my bump and the floor, fingers trying to help spread myself open as the head inched forward and backwards through my stretching cunt. I let out another frantic grunt and suddenly the tile under me was slick with the gush of fluid that accompanied my baby’s head. My friend’s warm palm gently rubbed my lower back where my muscles were cramping with the residual shock of my last contraction, and I could hear him whispering words of encouragement to me. “Ohhhhhhh, it’s out, it’s almost out, please, god, my belly, please!” He seemed to understand what I meant, and his arm around me to rub firm circles into my flank as I panted and rested, waiting for another contraction to help me shove the rest of my baby out. For a fleeting moment, it was just him holding me while I breathed. And then I felt my body tense once more and knew this was it. My spine hunched and belly jumped as I let out a series of short, sharp grunts, slowly forcing my baby out of me inch by inch until… “UGH UGH UGH UGH UNGH HHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” The head shoved my hand out, and soon the body spilled after, the shoulders twisting as they pushed past my burning, aching pussy. My friend let go of me, quickly catching the baby before it could hit the cold tile floor, and instantly the sound of crying echoed through the bathroom. Tears streamed down my face as a wave of relief rushed over me, and I fell backwards onto my ass so I could reach out for my baby, cord still connected. My friend quickly handed him over, and I swiped my finger around his mouth and nose, clearing his airways, before I suddenly remembered. My baby, a little boy, rested atop my still-occupied belly. I moaned, suddenly aware of how sore I was down there, and dread crept up my spine. “I can’t… I can’t do this again. I can’t.” My friend looked at me with such sadness and pity in his eyes. “The ambulance should be here in about five, if you can hold off that long.” I paused, taking assessment of my body. I still felt like I needed to push, but it wasn’t quite as urgent. The second head was still right there behind my lips, and I could feel the heavy bulge in my pelvis. I nodded, and he let out a breath of relief, kneeling down to put an arm around my shoulders to help support me while I held my son to my chest. Five minutes doesn’t seem like much time at all, in the grand scheme of things. I could make it five minutes. Of course I could. I could ignore the tell-tale tightening of my lower back, my whole body tensing in response. I could ignore the need to shift my hips that left me wiggling my bare ass against the slick bathroom tiles. I could ignore the subtle spread of my legs as the pressure, the insane amount of pressure, quickly ratcheted up. I clearly wasn’t doing a good job hiding my discomfort, because immediately my friend’s hand went to my bump and rubbed it as if he could convince it to relax. “Nononononono! No, you cannot have another baby in this bathroom! One bathroom baby is enough! You gotta hold it.” By this point I was panting, trying so hard not to give in and start pushing. I shifted my baby to one arm, my free hand coming to join his in rubbing my contracting belly as I let out a moan of despair and frustration. “ I can’t! Pressure! The pressure-! I’ve gotta push! It’s right there, the head is right there, I gotta… gotta… oooooooooh… ooooOOOOOOHHHHHHH FFFFFFFFFUUUU-” In an instant, my legs were as far open as I could spread them, and I felt the tell tale sting of a baby’s head starting to inch its way past my lips, bulging out my pussy as I pushed with all my might. I screamed as the

​“Breathe, 042. Deep, controlled breaths,” Dr. Thorne commanded, his voice muffled by a crisp blue surgical mask. He sat perched on a low stool between the boy’s trembling thighs, his eyes cold and clinical.

​The kitten boy, known only to the staff as Rin, let out a broken sob into the plastic oxygen mask. His hands clawed weakly at the thin paper lining of the delivery table. On either side of him, two orderlies held his knees pinned back toward his chest, their grip unrelenting as they ensured the dozen medical students behind them had a clear, unobstructed view of the crowning.

​“I... I can’t,” Rin mewled, the sound thin and reedy. “It hurts too much. Please...”

​“Hush,” the doctor snapped, not looking up. He pressed two gloved fingers against the rim of Rin’s stretching anatomy, gauging the tension. “Save your energy for the work. You’re fully dilated. We have a litter of five to get through today, okay? Push nice and hard for me, kitten.”

​The First and Second: The Breaking Point

​A massive contraction seized Rin’s body. His back arched off the table, and his small, furry ears flattened against his damp hair. He let out a guttural groan that vibrated through the oxygen mask, his toes curling in agony.

​“Push! Keep it steady,” one of the orderlies barked, leaning over him.

​The doctor’s hand was firm, pressing against the perineum to guide the emerging life. “Good. The head is visible. Again, now.”

​Rin screamed, a high-pitched, desperate sound that was promptly ignored by the staff. He pushed with every ounce of his dwindling strength. With a wet, sliding sensation, the first kitten—a tiny, slick bundle of dark fur—spilled into the doctor’s waiting palms.

​Before Rin could even catch his breath, the second contraction hit. It was faster, more aggressive. He didn't have time to sob; he could only gasp as the doctor cleared the airway of the first and handed it to a nurse.

​“Don’t slack off. The second is right behind,” Dr. Thorne warned. “Nose down, chin to chest. Push.”

​Rin’s petite frame shook violently. He felt split open, his body no longer belonging to him but to the room of observers. He gave a long, agonizing shove, his face turning a deep crimson before the second kitten slid out. He slumped back, his chest heaving, tears streaming down into the seal of the mask.

​The Third and Fourth: Exhaustion Sets In

​“Halfway there,” the doctor noted, his tone unchanged. He reached back in, his gloved hand stretching the raw, bulging opening once more. “You’re losing your rhythm, 042. Focus.”

​“Please... stop... tired...” Rin whimpered. He looked small and swallowed by the clinical environment, his tail twitching weakly against the table.

​“You don't get to be tired yet,” Thorne replied sternly. “The third is breech. I need a massive push on my count, or we lose it. Do you understand?”

​Rin nodded obediently, though his eyes were glazed with pain. When the next wave hit, he didn't just push; he shrieked, his voice cracking. The doctor’s hands were deep and intrusive, manually adjusting the kitten’s position. The sensation was agonizing. Rin felt his consciousness flickering, the "cacophony of encouragement" from the students sounding like a dull roar in his ears.

​With a sickening squelch, the third and fourth kittens—twins sharing the same sac—were forced out in one long, harrowing effort. Rin’s legs went limp in the orderlies’ hands, his head lolling to the side.

​The Fifth: The Final Toll

​The room fell into a heavy silence, save for the rhythmic beep-beep-beep of the heart monitor and the soft cries of the four newborns being cleaned nearby.

​“Last one,” Dr. Thorne said, his hand resting on Rin’s now-deflated but still-quivering belly. “This one is the largest. It’s the sire’s pride, kitten. Don't fail him now.”

​Rin couldn't even find his voice. He let out a faint, melodic trill of distress, a primal kitten sound he couldn't control. His body felt hollowed out, yet the pressure of the final kitten was immense.

​“Now! All you’ve got!”

​Rin’s eyes flew open. He gripped the orderlies' wrists, his knuckles white. He pushed until the blood vessels in his neck stood out, his entire body vibrating with the effort. He felt the doctor’s fingers prying, guiding the wide shoulders of the final kitten through the narrow, exhausted passage.

​“ARGHHHH IT’S COMINGG!!” Rin shrieked, his body racking with a final, violent convulsion.

​The doctor caught the large, ginger-furred kitten with practiced ease. “Time of birth, 05:22. All five accounted for.”

When you place a careful hand over the taut and rounded dome of your belly you can feel it, the distinctive shape of each smooth segment as the massive millipede curls in on itself within the confines of your womb. If you remain perfectly still, you can feel the restless movement of hundreds of tiny legs as the growing insect attempts to make itself comfortable inside of its host.

When people stop you to congratulate you, to ask you questions about how many babies you’re carrying and when are you due, you smile and lie to them, weaving one story or another to explain away how swollen and full you’ve become in such a short time. They can’t know that it’s because somehow, some way, a monstrously sized millipede has been rapidly gestating inside of you for a few months now, and you certainly can’t tell them that you have no clue when you’re due simply because it just keeps growing, with no end in sight.

In the end, it continues for another month, almost two, until your body can take no more. By then, you look more than full term with triplets, with the millipede having grown to a length and girth rivaling that of an anaconda. When your knees buckle and a strange milky fluid gushes from between your legs, your heart races as you realize that oh god all of it has to come out and you have no idea how much of it there is, but you’re about to find out.

The thick, blunted collum of the millipede bullies it way past your rapidly dilating cervix, stretching your birth canal to make room for the rest of its slick, engorged body. When it emerges you can feel the wet antennae twitching against the stretched and sore lips of your cunt; almost as if the millipede is just as curious about you as you are of it.

Time blurs and everything burns as you fall into a cycle of constant, desperate pushing, fighting to birth every inch of this creature. Each smooth segment of its shiny black carapace is slick with fluids as you bear down, and sweat trickles down your temples as you tap into strength reserves that you didn’t even know you had. The bedroom grows humid and dark, and as you clutch at the ruined blankets beneath you, you wonder if it’ll ever stop, or if it’ll just keep unfurling from inside of you forever.

Finally, oh god finally, you feel the impossibly long body of the millipede taper ever so slightly, until at long last you feel the final segment slip free of you with a wet pop and a final gush of milky fluid. Completely drained, you collapse back against the headboard of your bed, chest heaving as you gulp down air. Soon, you feel the familiar twitch and wriggle of hundreds of legs as the millipede coils itself gently around your body, as if to thank you for all of your hard work.

—

they're overcome with sheer need, just desperate to be close as they labor, grinding down on their partner's lap and their fingers and their mouth until they physically can't anymore, whining about how full they are and how badly they need to push and that the baby is coming, its coming right now

they end up sitting right on their partner's lap, grabbing behind their knees to pull their legs up and open, bracing their feet on their partner's legs

"gonna start pushing," they groan as they curl around their heaving belly and force their hips up, giving their partner a clearer view of their bulging cunt as the crown of the head pushes outward and causes a prominent protrusion between their thighs, trembling with effort as they shriek that the head is going to come– that it hurts, that there's pressureee, that they can't. stop. pushing.

their partner begins to finger them, circling their throbbing clit and cooing softly into their ear as they talk them through it:

Anon, your brain is HUGE

Absolutely fucking MASSIVE

You didn't mean to stare.

You really didn't.

But the scene playing out to your left was really hard to ignore.

Really, really hard.

Just like your cock, straining against the front of your swimtrunks.

At first, the crashing of the waves had covered her noises - something she'd no doubt been hoping for - but eventually, her straining groans and yelps of pain were too loud to be ignored.

She was on her front, arms propping her torso upright as she gave short, grunting pushes.

Just visible under her tail from this position was... a bubble - the amniotic sac, your mind supplied. She's giving birth.

You couldn't pull your eyes away.

She was too preoccupied to notice - or care - that you were watching as she bore down again, the sac protruding more from her, the dark shadow of the pup's nose just barely visible.

it’s only when you feel something big, like, really big, pressing up against your hole, that you snap back to reality. “wait, wait—“ you plead, but the round object makes its way up the tentacle and into your body, stretching you obscenely. it presses against your cervix until it finally breaches the tight seal, and you yelp as you feel a weight settle into your womb. you try to fight it, but you’re too weak from whatever substance is intoxicating you. egg after egg presses into your womb as you feel your insides get stretched. you put a hand on your belly and feel it slowly expand, fearing you might pop. but, when you look just a few months pregnant, it stops. you feel a hot, thick liquid be pumped out of the tentacle, before it withdraws, and leaves you alone.

you try to forget about it in the coming months, but the seed is planted. there’s no removing the life that’s inside of you. sometimes you sit there, hand on your swollen stomach, wishing you could get these little burdens out of you. but you know they’re stuck there, until they’re ready to come out on their own.

the day it finally happens, you look more than full term. you look pregnant with triplets, and with every step you take you can feel the eggs bumping against each other and rolling around inside of you. you hate the incubator you’ve been made into, carrying a life you had no part in creating. but then, finally, you feel a weight drop into your pelvis while you’re in bed one day. you rush into the bathroom as the contractions start.

it’s a bit fascinating how your body treats this just like a human pregnancy. the cramps, the back pains, it’s as if you were laboring out your own baby. but you aren’t, of course not. you feel a rush of fluid come out between your legs, and are struck with the unbearable urge to push as you squat down. you feel something huge positioned between your legs, slowly descending down your tight birth canal as you push and push. the process is slow and arduous, you can feel every inch of progress it makes in your body as it moves down toward your hole.

you wonder absently what kind of creatures you’ve been growing inside of you for the past several months, as the first egg begins to crown. you push, and push, and push as hard as you can. the circumference is slightly smaller than a newborn’s head, absolutely enough to make you cry out in agony as it reaches a full, perfectly circular crown between your legs. but, as the contraction ends and you relax, it sinks back inside of you, fully hidden within your body once again.

this process repeats a few more times, as you push and push and push with everything you have, only for all your progress to be erased as the slick egg slips back inside of you. but finally, after what feels like an eternity, the egg bursts from inside you and falls onto your bathroom floor.

you feel another weight shift down.

Again, she prays to god to ease her burden. Again, her stomach stretches another inch and the head at her entrance grows even wider. How long before she yanks the key off her neck and gives in?