I want to feel full

A ragged breath rips from her throat as she rolls her head forward, grunting softly as her next contraction begins to build. Her legs are spread for you, thighs trembling wildly on either side of the bulge of her cunt. No head is visible yet, but her lips begin to gape and spread as her grunts evolve into a small roar, fluid leaking from her hole as she pushes in earnest.

"Ohhhhh," she groans, half delirious. "Oh, its- OH. It's comingggg." Her nails dig into the flesh of her thigh, face screwed up with effort as she pulls her leg further back. Her cunt bulges obscenely around the emerging head and more fluid leaks from her vagina, coating your fingers in slick as you reach forward to slide the pads of them over her folds. The skin is red, hot to the touch, and she whimpers as she thrusts her hips forward.

"Coming," she repeats, vouce clear with intent. And yes, yes it is. Her labia part as she shrieks with effort, exposing the smallest sliver of wet, dark hair. "I- I'm pushing. I'm pushing! I can't stoppppp."

Despite the bulge of the head in her canal, the crown of which has spread her labia to the point of turning her soft folds bloodless and white (oh, the burn must be delicious, if her cries tell you anything about the sensations she's experiencing), her shaking thighs attempt to snap shut, trapping your hand against her cunt. "Mmmmmphhh!" Her chin hits her chest as she pushes again, grinding her sore and swollen clit against your fingers. "'S it- can you- fuck! Oh, fuck. I need it ouuuuuuut."

The vice grip in her belly releases, the sides of it heaving around the shape of the child as she struggles to catch her breath. "So low," she moans quietly, comtinuing to rock her hips. "God, the stretch-."

And... well, fuck. The stretch. The burn. The teardrop shape playing peekaboo behind her lips. You brush your thumb over her clit, inhaling sharply as she whimpers in a way that let's you know she's preparing to push. "Ohhhh, its gonna come. Its coming. Its-." Her words break off rapidly, and the only sound that escapes her is a wild scream as the head surges forward. She makes an attempt to twist away from you, thighs clamped tightly around your hand as she shrieks and struggles to hold the child in.

"MMMMM, FUCK. BURNINGGGG!"

You press against the bulge of her crown, applying the smallest hint of pressure. With a small hiss, she forces her eyes open and turns to you, panting sharply as the child continues its descent. Her eyes are wild and wet with tears, and you appease her with a gentle smile and a soft kiss as you shift closer to pry her legs back open.

Completely naked, spread, and exposed, she hisses and struggles to no avail. The child sits at half crown; her clit is hard and pulsing against the ridge of its skull, and her labia are shiny with amniotic fluid and what you know to be her own arousal. Maybe you'll have a taste, you muse.

As her belly tightens once more and a groan builds in her throat, you shift your hand just slightly to completely cover her rapidly spreading hole. "Oh, you really can't stop, can you baby?" you croon, experiencing a jolt of arousal as the head surges forward against your hand. "Pushing like that? So... uncontrolled?"

"Get it out," she pleads. "I-holy FUCK, I need it out."

You wait a beat. Feel her push. Feel the head slip further out (nearly to the brow bone that time; you can hear the little noises she makes when it grinds against a sweet spot inside) and feel it retreat. Feel her go limp as she slumps back against the edge of the bed behind her, legs falling open as the bulge has become too prominent to deny.

"Oh, baby girl," you murmur, giving her clit one last gentle stroke to invoke a sleepy smile in return. She must think she's close. Poor thing. The size of the head, as well as the yet unseen shoulders, would disagree. "Is it starting up again?"

"Mhm." Roughly 15 seconds later, she hums again, reaching down to pull her legs back once more. "Mmmmm, here it comes. Oh, its gonna be out soon."

You beg to differ, but you don't dare tell her so.

Another push begins with a ragged scream that rises from the depth of her chest. "ffffFFFFUCK GET IT OUT. I WANT IT OUT."

He makes his way to the bathroom and find you in the bathtub, curled tight around your pregnant stomach with your forehead resting on the cold lip of the tub.

You'd been in here for hours - far longer than you'd intended, actually.

The only reason you got into the tub in the first place was to alleviate some of your late pregnancy aches and pains. You hadn't expected to go into full blown labor so quickly, but the baby has slipped low in your hips while you rested in the warm water and when you went to get out you found it nigh impossible.

"What's the matter, baby?" Your partner hums softly in your ear, rubbing a hand down your tense back as your eyes roll back to look at him over your shoulder.

You take a second to answer, your voice a bit rough after hours of its only use being low grunts and groans as you'd labored.

"It's - ooh, it's time." You groan out, rocking back into your partner's hands as the familiar tightening in your core begins.

There's a soft startle in your partner's grip when the words come out of your mouth, a tremor against your back, but you're too wrapped up in the sudden sinking feeling in your hips to think about much else besides how it shoves downward and fills the space between your thighs.

The tightening of your belly is fierce, drawing up hard and tight and earning a long, low groan of urgency from you for its efforts.

You need to push.

You need to push right now.

You part your thighs even further, spreading them wide and shoving your hips back closer to your partner's hands. One hand comes up to clutch onto the wash cloth bar and the other slips into the water and clutches at your thigh.

"Oohhhhh~!" You moan out, feeling yourself stretch and widen to accommodate the changes inside your body, "It's - it's coming, I can feel it stre-stretching me!"

Your partner's hands move down from your hips to your thighs, feeling blindly under you until he successfully finds your entrance.

"Oh!" He gasps in surprise as he cups your sex, feeling the heavy weight that barrelling through you pressing outward.

"What?" You grunt out in shock, too lost in the need to give birth to actually stop your body from pushing into his hands.

"You're - you're starting to bulge-" He says, his fingers feeling gently around the mass.

It burns a bit, a sharp spark of pain that causes you to whine at the intrusion, but suddenly the pressure doubles down as something insides you shifts and all you manage out is a shaky warning to your partner before you start pushing again.

"Ughhhhh fuck, babe~" You pant out, you back arching as the immense pressure grows too much, the sudden thought of feeling like a bottle about to be uncorked flitting into your mind, "I can't stop... can't stop pushhhiinnggg~"

And it's true, a sudden urgency filling you, screaming at you to strain deeply and get this baby out of you.

"Oh yeah, you're starting to open," Your partner says behind you, his fingers tracing the spreading skin of your hole, "Keep pushing baby, keep pushing."

It feels so big inside of you, the weight of it filling you to the brim and any second now you're just going to burst like a balloon.

And then, because the universe is funny like this sometimes, something does burst inside of you.

There's a brief second where the pressure dissipates, your hips dropping down at the release and your hole fluttering now that it's not being spread open.

That lasts only long enough for you to suck in a few lungfuls of air before the much bigger, much less flexible head of your baby drops down into place. You can't help the startled yelp that you let out, soaking your partner in bath water as you suddenly turn to face him.

Your hand shoots out and grabs ahold of his shoulder as you start to part around the head. He looks shocked as you squat facing him, your legs spread wide as you cling to him with one hand and cup your bulging entrance with the other.

The head wastes no time sliding through you, the mass you are cupping filling your palm almost completely as you grunt gutterally and bear down with a massive effort. It slips forward easily, spreading you into a year drop shape that has your thighs quaking in effort when you let up on your push.

You come down a bit dizzy, your head swimming from lack of oxygen and your opening stinging and burning from the stretch.

"Oh fuck-" You pant out, feeling your belly starting to tense with another contraction so quickly after the last one had let up, "Oh fuck, it's coming..."

Your head slams backward as you start pushing again, your belly drawing up tight against your frame as you start to spread even further around the coming head.

"It's coming ouuUTTTT!" You groan out desperately, your words cutting into a sharp cry as you feel yourself open into a wide, tight circle around the head.

You feel your partner's hands coming down to take over holding the head and immediately move yours to cling to his other shoulder, squaring your stance and dipping your hips low as you let out a long, low moan of urgency.

"Yeah it is, you're doing so good, love." He says as he runs his fingers over your stretched skin.

" 'm gonna... gonna crown on the next one..." You pant out, giving your partner enough time to prepare as you start to bear down and centimeter by centimeter your pushed open wider, until finally you reach the widest point. "It's gonna... ooooOOOHHHHHH~"

Your head shoots straight up when you feel yourself stretched into a perfect circle around the head, how the weight settles and how tight you've stretched and suddenly you're standing upright on shaky legs, pushing yourself desperately into your partner's hands to ease the pain.

"It's crowning!" You cry out, as if the man holding said crown between your thighs isn't aware of this. But you're far too preoccupied to be worried about the semantics of your words.

You bend your knees out awkwardly, standing wide legged and bent over your heavy middle. Your hands rest on your knees as you gasp for breath wetly, your body fighting to make sense of what it's feeling.

All too quickly the need to push comes back, and you find yourself dropping into a squat again as you feel the head start to slip through again.

"Theresababyohfucki'mhabingababyyyyy-" You grunt out through gritted teeth as you spread wider and wider.

It's out to it's brow, the bridge of its nose, and you suck in a quick breath before doubling down on the tail end of the contraction and grunt and groan the nose out.

"That's it, baby, that's it!" Your partner cheers over your primal noises, his hand keeping steady pressure against the crown to keep it from coming to quickly, "Push, push, push!"

And it's true! The only thing they can't change about me is my great big belly. I'm quite barrel shaped around the middle.

Imagine the heart attack I give my owner when I'm unusually temperamental all day on a trail ride, and I go into very sudden labor, my waters breaking and my middle contracting hard, my tail arcing up as I scream and try to heave out my overdue foal - the pregnancy having lasted longer than it should have because of how stressful my previous living conditions were.

“It hurts,” she whimpers, eyes closing with a hard wince. My other hand closes around her jaw and I softly blow hair into her face to cool her down.

“I've got you, darling.”

She shakes her head in refusal, a cry bubbling up her throat, “oh. Oh.”

“Tension isn't helping our baby, please relax.” She gives me a look that makes me want to bury myself alive to recover from it. A hopeless scared gaze that makes me want to claw out my eyes on top of being five feet underground.

“Help me,” she whines, “get him out of me.”

I flash a look at the royal healers around me, their eyes mildly impatient. I give them a cold stern look that has them shifting into action to avoid my ire.

“I'm still convinced it's a little girl,” I smile, brushing her hair that's matted onto her forehead.

“There's nothing little about her then,” she groans and shifts away from me, her body locking up, “no, not again,” she cries and her fingernails dig into me. I have several of these wounds now but I can't even register it with the way I've been watching her so intently.

“Breathe,” I remind her quickly, “breath in and out. Relax your jaw.”

Her teeth are bared to the world, the entirety of her rigid, airless.

“Breathe,” I bark, my worry crawling up my mouth.

She does but the sound that leaves with it is enough to drive me over an edge. My hand leaves her face and falls onto the swell of her stomach, bare to the room, our child begging to escape it. A blanket covers her lower half and I'm tempted to tear it away to see if there is progress. A healer beats me to it, bending my wife’s knee up and opening her legs like a butterfly, blanket falling away.

“That's the sound we were waiting for, your majesty,” the midwife coos gently. “You’re ready to start pushing. It’ll all be over soon.”

Terror strikes me like a hard fist to the jaw and I sit there in stunned silence. My wife on the other hand starts a tantrum, limps a chaos as she tries to leave the bed. None of us expect this but with her so bloated, she barely makes it before I'm holding her still, pinning to the mattress. Her eyes are crazed and dazed with pain and anger.

“I am not pushing,” she hisses at me as if I was the one who suggested it.

“Are you saying that because you're afraid of the pain or because you don't think you can do it?” I challenge, raising an eyebrow. I dare to let my hand travel down between her legs, my fingers breaching the now expanded opening. I almost groan, “darling,” my head slumps towards her with near relief, “you are so close.” I feel the spot of thin hair, the curvature of a baby’s head. Our child.

“Get your fingers out of me,” she groans, whimpering.

“First I've heard that one,” I smirk. She flashes me a warning look that I eat up.

She again seems to be primed with a retort when both hands furiously find the bottom sheet. Giving my hand, wrist, and arm a break from her piercing touch. A terrified little yelp breaks from her mouth and one leg loses grip on the bedding and kicks out.

“Oh please,” she heartbreakingly pleads. So unlike my vicious wife. “Make it stop.”

I instinctively brush my knuckles to her cheek, my other hand resting low on her stomach. “You need to push, darling,” I press on her skin, “and hard. You're going to be just fine if you do that.”

She says something incoherent, a blubbering mess of raw emotion, exhaustion, and pain. Still she does what we all hoped, pushed. Her face tight with determination, chin to her chest, the sound of an animal in full heat coming out of her. She's never looked so beautiful.

“That's it,” I encourage softly and twist, getting a cold cloth for her forehead and neck. She relaxes instantly, tears streaming down her face.

“I can't do this,” she says, voice breaking.

“Of course you can,” I say softly.

She shakes her head in defiance of my words. Head tipping back against the pile of pillows behind her. My wife shrieks, her body shaking violently. “No, please, no,” she begs.

“It comes, your majesty, push,” the healer beckons.

My focus waivers between how vulnerable and how strong my wife is in this moment that I too am breathless for a spell before I am smiling, staring down at the peek of dark hair.

“I see her, darling, push oh please push.” Our ‘please’ is so contrasting that I laugh. She follows my suggestion and cries out again, this time her hand finding my forearm and holding tight. She looks at me, a face full of unabashed fear and loathing, “you did this to me.”

I still can't wipe the joy from my face so my, “I know,” comes out manic.

She whimpers, tears cascading down her face and mingling with sweat. She swears colorfully. That head of dark hair moves forward and now holds her folds open and taut. She's screaming loud enough to break the windows and I'm there, holding her head against mine, getting closer and closer. “Shh, it's almost over, you're doing so well.”

“Small pushes now, blow out, stretch wide,” the healer mimics the breathing she wants to achieve but my wife just lets out the most pathetic of whimpers.

“Hurts,” she mumbles.

“You're amazing. I'm so impressed,” my lips brush into her sweaty hair.

“Don't say that like you're surprised,” she huffs at me.

I chuckle, leaning back to take in her burning blue eyes. “I'm not surprised.”

“Just a few more pushes,” the healer coaxs.

I watch the head pop out with a bit of liquid and a shrill cry from my partner, who now pants wildly, eyes lidded with weariness. “Pull it out,” she demands, narrowing her gaze to menacing.

“You'll push in a minute here,” the healer amends for her.

“Just take it out,” she begs and then groans deeply, eyes closing quickly, “ohhh nooo” I watch in fascination as the baby starts to rotate slowly.

“Hold on, dearie,” the healer tugs the cord up and over our child’s head eliminating a threat against its life already. “Open these legs wider for me, there you go. Push, push, push.”

Thankfully my wife follows her orders. Her face bright red, and voice raising as more and more of the child emerges. Unceremoniously the screaming is replaced by the baby who now flails around in her mother's arms. Her. Our daughter. My wife and I lock eyes, her face split with adorable shock as if she hadn't just gone through all the work to make this happen. I slump towards them both, my adrenaline wearing off and I'm realizing my own hand has left crescent moons into my flesh from concern. I relax my body and take a deep breath.

“Thank gods,” I murmured to no one in particular. I look up timidly to my wife who wipes our baby with a towel and scrunches her entire chin towards her neck to get a better look at the purple screeching face. Our daughter finally has a lapse in annoyance and her eyes open, stormy gray eyes forming a perfect mirror to gaze into. My wife drops back, a lifeless laugh forcing out of her, “all that only for her to look like you.” She sounds both bitter and proud.

I grin, “she will no doubt be a stunner like me then.”

She huffs loudly but matches my smile, content with such a notion.

“The next one will look like you.”

She slunk as quietly as she could into the camp, but her heavy belly made it hard to move quietly. She hated when she got big like this. She was slow and useless and fat and it meant that soon there would be a lot of pain and another mouth to feed. There were already five and she was not a good enough hunter to provide for them, especially not laden with a swollen belly like this.

I want the father of my child to fuck me while contractions get stronger and closer together. I want to feel his cock take away all of the pressure building between my pelvis as he penetrates my plump pussy.

Every stroke stretches out my future birth canal and my body gets overwhelmed, whimpering while taking him and breathing through the pain. My contractions coil me tighter around him. When his cock starts twitching inside of my overdue pussy I hold his hands, making sure he presses into the body he made ripe with his child.