delightfulturkeyegg

by Dropster

Chapter 1

The wailing cries of pain were now echoing down the corridor, the hands clutching convulsively at the rails beside the birthing bed, the young shapely legs lifted high and apart by the stirrups were twisting and straining against the restraints.

“Push! Monica, Puuush!!” urged the doctor, her hand pressing on the hard mound of the young woman’s labouring belly.

“Aaarrrgggh… hoooooph, hoooooph, hoooooph,” came Moni- ca’s guttural cries, sweat pouring from her contorted face as she heaved against the boulder wedged in her bottom.

“Aahhh hoooo,” she sobbed, “Can’t! … it’s too BIG! … AAARRR- GGGH!! … No ROOM!!” And with that shriek her pent up breath burst out of her and the tension of her straining body ebbed.

“Please, doctor, it hurts!” she whimpered pitifully, “I can’t take it any more!”

“Yes you can, Monica, your baby’s head is right down into your vagina now. That means it will soon be over and you’ll have a darling little baby,” said Doctor Eve Crowther soothingly. “Now breath deeply for me and get ready to push really hard on the next contraction.”

Nurse Alice Jones looked sympathetically at the pain wracked body spread open on the bed. So many young first timers these days with the troops passing through and out to get some pleasure for what might be, for many, the last time. The hospital so short handed too, with the male doctors mostly away with the forces. Who would have thought she’d see the day when a young female doctor would be delivering babies! Not that Dr Crowther wasn’t a good doctor, but in her condition too! The nurse glanced at where the doctor’s white coat stretched tautly over the hugely swollen abdomen of a woman obviously in the very final stages of pregnancy. I wonder if she’s only carrying one, she thought to herself, surreptitiously appraising the bulk of the doctor’s fully stretched womb.

At that moment Monica gave a gasp, her pretty brown eyes went wide in fear, and then her instincts took over and her hands clenched the rails in an iron grip.

“Uuunnngghh! … Uuuunnngghh!! … UUUuuunnngghh!!!” she grunted, the tendons in her neck standing out like steel hawsers with the terrible effort.

“That’s it! Good girl!” encouraged the doctor, lifting up the bottom of the girl’s sweat drenched nightdress to expose the full dome of Monica’s tortured belly, smaller now than when her agony began but standing up narrow and hard as a drum from her wide feminine hips.

“Aaarrrgggh… Aaarrrgggh,” screamed the poor girl, “It’s tooo- oo big! You’ve got to make it stop, doctor, please!!”

“Serve you right you silly girl,” muttered Nurse Jones, “Spreading your legs for a negro.” For Alice Jones had seen the anx- ious face of the man who had brought young Monica to the hospital. “Everyone knows that negro babies are too big for white women to handle.”

Oh god, I hope not, thought the doctor and she felt the child twist and kick out heavily in her swollen tummy. In her mind’s eye she could see the beautiful, and very black face of her lover as, on the very last day before he left for the front, his urgent caresses finally overcame the resistance of her throbbing body and she let him pull off her silken underpants and push his glorious weapon into her vir- ginal, but very wet, vagina.

That was so very close to nine months ago that she didn’t like to keep track any more, and she leant her weight on the birthing bed for a moment, bracing herself for the cramping pain that in recent days always followed the rebellious movements of her baby.

“Oh!” She gasped and her hand flew to her huge belly as she felt the sudden painful tightening. “Heh, Braxton-Hicks,” she mumbled with a plastered-on smile when the pain subsided and she realized the clients in the waiting room were staring at her. Her brow was furrowed, though, as she checked the clock. Two more hours left on her shift. She was sure it was nothing, but couldn’t hurt to call the midwife when she got home for a check-in. She did feel awfully funny, though.

She set in to do some filing, swiveling her high-backed office chair away from the waiting room. When the next contraction hit, she was bent in her seat towards the lower drawer, aimlessly shuffling files. Her belly hanging between her knees opened up space in her hips which felt good, and she was able to breathe through this one relatively silently. The client intake sheets in the cabinet swayed back and forth as she puff-puff-blew through a surprisingly long spasm, only letting out the slightest of moans on the exhale at its peak.

“Um, hello? Miss?” Shit! She whirled the chair around, totally unsure of how long the couple had been standing there. “WelcometoFertileValleyDaySpayourmasseusewillbewithyoushortly,” she spat out, roughly gesturing towards the waiting room chairs. These definitely weren’t practice contractions. She reached for the intercom. “Teresa, could you come up front?” “Sure, just as soon as I finish this—“ “It’s *urgent*,” the receptionist hissed.

The manicurist must have heard the panic in her voice, since she bounced into the waiting room in record time. “What’s up?” “I’m in labor, whispered the tiny front desk girl. “Are you sure?” asked Teresa. “I mean, first babies take a while—“ “They’re two minutes apart,” she told her, with a look of despair on her face. “Oh, shit.”

Too Good to Call it Quits

Raquel was 39 weeks pregnant and her body made certain to remind her of it every minute in an hour, every hour in a day and every day of the week. Her feet were sore and swollen, back ached from the bottom to her shoulders and if her hips flared her gait anymore she

All of this was why Raquel was quickly waddling to an appointment with a prenatal massage therapist. Her mother-in-law gifted her a free visit as one of her baby shower presents. She was certainly supposed to use it before she was anywhere close to her due date, but moving and nesting had filled up all of her time till now.

"Babe, are you sure this is alright? You were feeling contractions earlier," her husband, John, looked at her dropped and tight belly with concern.

"I'll be fine, they're just braxtons. I need something like this right now anyway," Raquel rolled her eyes.

She loved her husband, but he hovered over her like she was a fragile glass. It was cute at times and a bit aggravating at others.

The pair signed in and sat down. As Raquel waited, a slight pain went through her stomach. Only enough to make her wince a bit. It didn't worry her the least bit though. Not yet anyway.

"Raquel Johnson?" A young woman in purple scrubs asked from the doorway.

Raquel waved and rose slowly from her seat.

"Alright, babe, I'll be right here if you need anything." John said behind her.

Raquel waddled behind the young woman and into a room. The massage table sat at the very center while set of sheets, bottles of oils and a body pillow laid neatly on a separate table next to a music player.

"My name is Melanie, I'll be taking care of you today." Melanie smiled. "Is there anything I need to know before we get started?"

Raquel felt her stomach tighten once more. "Nope, not at all. I'm ready for the full body service!"

this is a commission for @thebabyscomingnow, an erotic retelling of Heracles’ birth! with everything you could wish for: greek mythology, birth denial and hot, difficult labor. hope you enjoy as much as i did :)

The savage movements of the child in her womb were eager to steal moans from Alcmene’s lips. The Princess of Mycenae had become a throbbing, whimpering mess in the sheets of the King’s bed.

Her son was huge. With every little movement, she could feel the weight of the baby pinning her down, making her lose balance. Of course, it must be like father, like son; there was something deep inside her that told her, since the moment she confirmed the new life growing inside her womb, that it was special.

She was the bearer of a beauty that made men weak in the knees and caused women to look twice, and of course that it would catch the eye of unexpected guests into her life.

Being impregnated by the god of gods himself was definitely one of them.

Her water broke the night before. The contractions came and went, remaining in a not very concise wave, varying in pain and intensity as if they were just casual cramps. At some point, the contractions had completely stopped, leaving Alcmene sagging in discomfort and mild agony.

She didn’t know what was worse at this point—to push that baby out or to keep it inside her, the massive weight of it resting on her pelvis.

She was sure it was a boy. It had to be. Vigorous and sturdy, just like his father, her son only proved to be the owner of enviable strength and energy, even in the womb.

***

If there was something Zeus could be proud of, it was every single one of his offspring. And all the tricks and feats he managed to pull just to get it his way. And now, contemplating the beautiful, delicate frame of Alcmene’s body being disrupted by his son, her gravid stomach was almost coarse in comparison with her delicate beauty; more than proud, he was horny.

As the pregnancy progressed, he would only find delight in seeing his unborn child grow. To the surprise of no one, his wife wasn’t as happy as him.

"You bastard! How dare you!?" or something along those lines was the only thing he received when Hera found out, but he was used to Hera's rage.

And jealousy. It seemed that his desire for the fertile body of Alcmene grew in pair with Hera's wrath.

Zeus watched as Alcmene rocked her hips in the air, her naked body glistening under the light of the candles in the room. The way her gravid stomach hung low under her as she swayed back and forth, how she moved with her hips in the air, how she lowered herself against the bed, arching her back and rocking her hips as her gravid stomach pressed against the mattress

He was responsible for making her labor progress as he wished. And Zeus wanted to start easy, to take in every bit and savor it slowly: let Alcmene get used to the feelings slowly.

Let her enjoy every single moment of childbirth as much as she could.

Her water broke after hours of leaking; the contractions were slow, steady, and so far from each other that you wouldn't even consider them labor. The baby was so, so slowly descending in her pelvis that Alcmene would only realize it when her walk turned into a waddle; her calm breathing became sturdy, and her steady sighs became unashamed moans and whimpers.

Zeus was enjoying it. Just at the thought of seeing his child being born, storms would fill Zeus' glistening eyes.

***

Alcemene pulled her legs down to the side of the bed, placing both hands beside her body before taking a deep breath and pushing through to pull herself up. A sigh escaped her lips when she finally managed to stand up, with a hand on the wall to stabilize her. She reached her arm to her lower back for support.

Waddling, she made her way to throw over herself a robe. These days, the only comfort she could find was in letting her sensitive body be bare. At the same moment, her husband made his way into the room.

Amphitryon looked her over. Her face was flushed, her hair disheveled, but her body still carried its own unique grace.

"Tomorrow there is going to be a meeting with all the generals to discuss... important things," Amphitryon announced in the most casual tone, "and I need you there."

This sentence caught Alcmene off guard; usually, she was not asked by her husband to attend meetings; war was not something she was fond of; and she found no interest in politics, but she nodded nonetheless. What her husband said, she did.

"I don’t think..." Her words were interrupted by a small cramp. "Ugh… I don’t think my presence can be any useful."

"A beautiful woman's presence is always good," her husband replied, looking at her over his shoulder. "A good reminder of what we're fighting for, mhm?"

"But…"

Ampythrion turned towards her, smiling lightly as he walked over to place a kiss on her temple. Well, if her presence would be useful, even if it just to boost morale.

"I insist." Amphitryon slid his hand under the robe, pressing against the tender flesh of the gravid stomach. "You have been like this for days. He isn't going to be born tomorrow. We both know this can take days."

Indeed, it didn’t seem like it. Her pleas were interrupted when the man held his finger up in the air, shushing her before starting to make his way out of the room.

"We'll be waiting for you."

***

"I simply cannot believe that you would do this…" The scream echoed in Zeus' ears' "...again!"

The goddess crossed her arms against her chest, stomping her foot against the floor. She was furious and raging with Zeus and with that woman. How could Alcmene be so oblivious about her husband's antics? Wasn't it obvious to everyone?

Well, it is late now. What’s done, it's done. Hera should have complained nine months ago, not now.

For Hera, it was in the way his eyes darkened, the way his lips parted, and the way his hand was clutching tightly to the armrest. Zeus was enjoying it, watching the woman enjoy the fruits of his labor nine months ago.

"Can't you be happy?" He shrugged, "A king is being born today!" Zeus slammed his hand against the armrest. "Son of mine, strong and born to rule!"

"You're enjoying it, don’t you?"

The burning fire in Hera’s eyes became quiet, her gaze wandering in the nothingness for a moment. She had a way better idea than to argue with an old man. Zeus couldn’t care less what her opinion was. But it would serve her right to remain quiet. If he was enjoying Alcemene's labor with such joy, who was she to private him from such a simple pleasure?

Alcmene wasn’t going to give birth. She wasn't going to give Zeus that one pleasure. 

***

"Ilithyia'' Hera's voice rang in her ears, and the gravid goddess turned around to see the face of rage.

Hera was fuming, stomping towards her. Moving a hand behind her back and another under her stomach for support, Ilithyia stood up, waddling to meet Hera with a small smile. The goddess of childbirth, glowing and gravid as always, tended to be a pleasure to deal with for Hera. Only with exceptions, like right now. Hera approached the goddess, grabbing a hold of her shoulders, her fingers digging at the soft skin.

"Alcmene…" Hera began but was unable to finish her sentence.

"Yes! She’s looking forward to giving birth to a wonderful baby boy!" The pregnant woman cheered, rubbing her stomach excitedly.

"Listen," Hera raised her eyebrows, emphasizing every one of her words, "Alcmene won’t give birth today."

Ilithyia frowned in confusion, tilting her head slightly, she remained quiet. She knew better than to question Hera.

Hera released her grip on her shoulders, her mouth set in a thin line as she stepped back.

"This is an order, Ilithyia," the woman said. "Sit down. Under no circumstances, Alcmene can give birth today."

***

Alcmene squirmed, trying to dissimulate her constant shifting and changing positions on the uncomfortable chair with a small cough. Her back was on fire, and the pressure that slowly but surely was forming in her pelvis only grew more and more powerful, almost impossible to ignore now.

She tried all the positions that her body allowed her to contort into to look for a bit of comfort, but she always ended up the same: her legs spread and her head almost thrown back, her huge belly resting between her hips.

She spent a restless night, moving around and groaning and panting. Every time it seemed like things were going to progress, they stopped. No contractions, no need to push—just the uncomfortable weight of the baby’s head resting on her pelvis. 

So against her pleas, her husband still dragged her along to the council meeting.

War, travel, plans and maps. The words of the men in front of her went in one ear and out the other, unable to focus on something that wasn't the sensations cruising through her body. It was a buildup of everything—the unexpected contractions she was unable to predict, the sensitive skin of her taut stomach, the heaviness of her breasts. The way the baby was positioned so, so low that it was painful to do anything.

A drop of sweat traveled down her forehead, falling to stain her dress. She looked down to find that her breasts were leaking, leaving wet patches on her chest.

It was a travesty to find something to wear lately that didn't rub her body in the wrong ways; everything seemed too tight, too harsh, too suffocating. Alcmene had resorted to being naked most of the time, but clearly, a council meeting wasn't good scenery to be like that.

She threw on herself the first thing she found, the chiton specially confected for her. Some other time, it would have been a pleasure to have such genteel fabrics covering her body. But now she despised it.

The fabric was constantly rubbing against her way too sensitive nipples, she was starting to leak. If she had had one more minute to consider her dressing, this wouldn't be happening.

A sharp pain shot through her abdomen. Alcmene hunched forward, one of her hands moving to bury itself under her belly and the other to grip the armrest of the chair.

In front of her, the group of men engrossed in their conversation ceased their conversation in unison, turning their attention to the woman behind them.

"Sorry," Alcmene panted. "Please... continue. Do not mind me."

Amphitryon cleared his throat, gathering the men's attention back to him.

She parted her lips slightly, letting out a slow breath as her hand massaged her womb where she could reach, trying to soothe herself. The pressure between her legs was intensifying.

Until a few hours ago, she was able to try and distract herself from it. She tried to lose herself in thought, counting the cracks in the ceiling and the tiles on the floor, but now it was impossible to ignore. Her body was sending all the signals that she wanted this baby out, and her brain wasn't able to brush them off now. She was in labor, and there was a baby coming.

Alcmene excused herself from the meeting, politely whispering to the woman sitting next to her that she needed a moment to collect herself. Every step to the door felt heavy, each movement was making her entire body ache. She swore she could feel the eyes of everyone burning on her back as she walked away, but when she looked over her shoulder, nobody was staring. Everyone else seemed to be deep in their own thoughts, engrossed in their work.

She stumbled into the hallway. Leaning against the cool stone wall of the hallway, Alcmene took deep breaths, trying to steady herself amidst the waves of pain. The sound of her own heartbeat echoed in her ears, and she closed her eyes, focusing on the rhythm of her breathing.

She realized how wide her legs were forced apart by the massive weight of the baby’s head resting low on her hips and how close it was. Her hands rested over her abdomen, gently massaging the muscles under her skin, trying to relax them and relieve some of the pressure, but she soon found herself panting when another contraction took over.

Alcmene forced herself to take a step, then another, and every moment that passed, it felt as if the baby's head was forcing her lips apart wider.

As soon as she was out of sight, Alcmene’s face contorted into a grimace as she squatted down, her hands turning into fists as she gripped the fabric of her clothes to pull it up her knees and pushed.

Now, it was as if all the progress that she should’ve had in the past hours was coming all over her in one fast and furious wave. It was as if her baby was ready to come out, but her body wasn’t cooperating.

She slid her hand between her legs, tracing the bulging shape of her pussy lips, and a low groan vibrated in her throat. Her shoulders tensed and her knuckles turned white as she gathered all the strength she could think of at the moment, forcing her chin to her chest as she pushed.

Her nails dug into her thighs as she let out a strangled cry. Her eyes squeezed shut and her arms trembled from the effort, but it seemed like she was going nowhere.

"Ughnn!" Alcmene pressed the palm of her hand against the crowning head, and she felt it move slowly for a bit before it slid back inside. "Ah! Ugh…!"

***

"Stand up!"

 "Do not you dare!"

On one side: Hera's voice, on the other: Zeus' screams.

The screaming contest was driving Ilithyia crazy. The goddess of childbirth moved her hand to rub her fertile womb, feeling the life inside of her squirming. Hera was very clear with her order: to prevent Alcmene from giving birth today. But it also meant to face the rage of Zeus for ruining his little party.

Cross-legged, Ilithyia cleared her throat, shifting her hips to accommodate and find a more comfortable position with the imminent life that was coming down her birth canal.

"Ilithyia!" Zeus barked, "Stand up now, you don’t want to face the consequences later!"

The goddess gulped, feeling the familiar pressure that accompanied the impending push start to grow and spread through her body. She looked between Zeus and Hera, her face scrunched up in irresolution.

***

Alcmene felt her whole upper body tense up as she breathed in, closing her eyes and focusing on pushing. She pushed with all her might. Panting, her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she couldn’t help but cry out when the weight of the baby moved down her birth canal.

Her knees buckled beneath her, and Alcmene fell to the ground. Her body was trembling with every contraction, hands clutching tightly to the material of her clothes as a loud moan escaped her lips when she finally felt the head, this time moving forward down her entrance with a push.

A bit, just a little inch, but it was enough to make Alcmene let out a loud breath, sighing in relief that this time her efforts were actually doing something. She inhaled again, her hands clenching as she closed her eyes and pushed again, biting her lips to contain a scream.

"Mhgn!"  Her face became red, and sweat was now covering her whole body. "Gods…!"

With a loud groan, her hands pressed against the cold floor as her body tensed in another push, the contractions now piling on top of each other as her body was washed over by an overwhelming urge to push that baby out.

The pain, the pressure. Alcmene gritted her teeth, her eyebrows furrowing as she focused on pushing with all her might with the next contraction that ripped through her stomach.

"Aughn!" Alcmene cried out, her head falling backward as her eyes flew open.

The baby’s head pushed on and stretched her entrance, Alcmene’s legs trembling and treating to close, trying to escape from the pain, from the burning feeling of the head stretching her open.

She remained there, puffing as her chest rose and fell wildly. It was that she wanted to feel the painful stretch of the head coming to its biggest point, but she was afraid to tear if the head came out too fast.

She moved one of her hands over her stomach to grace her fingertips over the shape of the baby’s head. Someone was coming from the other side of the hallway, their footsteps echoing in the air, but everything Alcmene could focus on was the baby crowning between her legs. She had left all decorum and modesty behind a long time ago.

Taking a deep breath in, pulling her chin to her chest and closing her eyes, she pushed. Her hips moved upwards in the air, her forehead resting against the cold floor and her legs trembled as the head slowly made its way out.

With a grunt, her hips jerked upwards again, and she screamed into her clenched fists.

A gush of amniotic liquid rushed out of her, the wet fabric of her gown sticking to her thighs and to her sweaty body. All of her ached, from her sensitive, leaking breasts to the taut skin of her contracting stomach; the worst of it was her crowning pussy. 

Alcmene pushed, every muscle in her body tensing with the effort, and with a gush, the massive head of the baby popped out of her. She gasped, and then she felt the feeling of a warm hand pressing against her lower back.

She tilted her head over her shoulder to find a man kneeling behind her, catching the baby’s head.

Alcmene closed her eyes again, resting her forehead against the floor as she panted heavily. Her lips turned into a thin line to keep the moans contained. Taking a deep breath, she focused on pushing as soon as the next contraction took over. Slowly, the shoulders started to make their way out of her.

"Nhgn!"  Alcmene whimpered, her back arching in an attempt to escape the pain. "Ohhhhhhhh!"

She cried, gripping onto the floor desperately as she gritted her teeth, her body tensing as she pushed again. After what seemed to be an eternity of pushing and squirming, the shoulders were out, and the rest of the baby's body came out.

Alcmene gasped for air, her eyes screwed up as sweat trickled down her temples. 

Breathing hard and fast, she remained there, trying to catch her breath.

Next one? Alcmene opened her eyes, looking around to see what he was talking about, but she was interrupted when another cramp hit her. She grunted, and her eyes opened wide when she felt something coming down her birth canal.

As she felt the mass descend rapidly, Alcmene panted when a contraction hit her again. Soon, she felt that familiar feeling taking over her again: she needed to push. 

Again.

The head of another baby was descending slowly through her birth canal. Faster than the last one, her body seemed to do what she knew, and pushing with every contraction, the head descended faster, crowning in a matter of just a few pushes. 

This one was smaller than its brother.

"Ughn!"  Alcmene groaned loudly when the head stretched her open again, and with a small grunt, she pushed it out. "Ah!"

The rest of the body came out easily, and soon Alcemene found herself holding two small babies against her chest, the two boys sucking frantically at her breasts.

"We have two more in labor!" A nurse yelled over a cacophony of labored howls while clutching their own distended mound. An older woman breathing steadily and a very lightly dressed young woman crying while holding a supremely large belly stood next to the nurse.

"I'll be there-ngh, in a moment!" You shout back as you press your arm firmly into a woman's abdomen. Your own stomach constricts viciously as seconds pass.

"I-I don't want it! Don't make me have it!" The woman shrieked beneath you. The shoulders of her child spread her pussy wide.

You ignore her and press harder. You need to clear some beds out and you couldn't wait for this woman to give in to her body or lose consciousness. The baby needed to be birthed now or else. You jam your elbow in harder.

The woman shrieked as the baby erupted from her pussy into the hands of one of the nurses. The woman fell into a heap, her crying intensifying as the cries of her baby entered her ears. The nurse tried to put the baby in the mothers hands but the act was met with stern and frantic rejection.

You instruct the nurse to clean them up and get them out of the bed as soon as possible. You take one step back from the bed and are met with the feeling of water dripping down your legs. Your time is coming soon too.

You look out amongst the rows of birth beds. Women young and old filled them, struggling against the trial of birth.

You were in the same struggle the other women here were in. Your baby is sitting right behind your dilating cervix, waiting to be born. Your skin tight bump's underside is visible to all with how ill fitting your clothes were. It didn't help that it had dropped significantly. Each wide gaited step you take is accompanied with a downward shift in your crotch.

She pushed hard while squatting, feeling the baby’s head began bulging her tight pants. Her husband can only watch from behind her as the head crowned into her pants.

She took a deep breaths in between the contraction and tried to climb the stairs but the pressure was too much.

Midway through the stairs, she pushed standing up, her hands on the last 3 steps and her legs wide open as the baby’s head pops out and then the body slips out into her pants shortly after.

He's always been a sound sleeper. You ride him slowly, gently, every chance you get. You give him pleasant dreams and hide the evidence inside your fertile body.

(Hello! You may call me RaikbowEye. This is just the introduction to a story that will have two versions dealing with mpreg and fpreg respectively.) 

“Fuck this shit, how did it even happen?” The succubus was in a bad mood. A really bad one. But, who could blame her? Her situation was one that only naive or young succubi found themselves into. Negod was way too old for having to deal with such an ordeal. She was pregnant. Succubi could take on any form they desired, and as such have sex with anyone they took an interest in. Their nature made them horny -no pun intended- most of the time, so to fight monotony they were constantly changing shapes and looking for exciting partners. Negod absolutely loved to tease people who thought they had a chance with her, even if the end she was rather picky with who she would have sex with that night. She also loved to completely turn the tables and dominate those who were hoping she would be an obidient, submissive buttom. It was rather funny to her, as in the heat of a moment you really can’t say no to a succubus - her very own sweet, magic breath has a ridiculous aphrodisiac effect that would turn off any of your worries or so-called “limits”. She had been having fun with humans for centuries,  to the point that she barely remembered the last time she visited her home realm. 

Imagine I'm heavily pregnant and constantly horny. I'm overdue almost two weeks, and every day once you get home from work we have sex. It's supossed to help start labor, but it hasn't worked so far. I'm sitting on your face. You lick my pussy just as I like it. Suddenly, my water breaks, drenching your face with fluids. I hadn't even noticed the contractions, but things seem to be moving fast, as I feel them now, very strong and close to each other. You continue pleasuring me, despite the mess I've made over you and our bed.

Also I've been thinking about a hard car birth, whether they are alone or with their partner I just think pushing a baby out in a tight cramped space is hot af

I barely registered your words at first, too occupied with breathing my way through another contraction. They were almost on top of each other by now, and by now I'd pulled my dress up and above my belly, the feeling of fabric on the taut skin being too much for me right now.

"Wh-what was that?" I panted. You craned your neck to look at me in the backseat, your expression not exactly promising.

"The AM station says there's a pileup about a mile down from us, so we're um...not gonna be moving for some time," you finished with a grimace. My face, previously flushed with effort, now paled with fear.

As if to punctuate how dire the situation now was, another contraction rolled through me, accompanied by what I'd hoping would happen anywhere else but the car.

"Fuck, n-not yet...!" I moaned, my thighs now slick with birthing fluid, dripping messily off of the leather interior. My hands grasped the sides of my belly while you looked on helplessly, stammering words of encouragement while gradually inching the car forward.

Breathing heavily, I braced myself against the side door, one leg hitched up by my chest while the other spread wide. You watched in the rearview mirror, eyes widening.

"M-maybe we can still make it, you just have to--" you babbled, but I cut you off.

"I can't, it's right there...!!" Whimpering, I tucked my chin close to my chest and waited for the contraction to reach its peak. When I finally couldn't hold out any longer I gave in, moaning loudly as I pushed, hard.

Inch by inch, both traffic and our baby made their progress, although it was clear which was ahead of the other.

My moans had escalated to screams, my thighs shaking and sweating as I felt the baby fully crowning. The backseat was thoroughly drenched in fluid now, since more seemed to gush out of me with every push. Reaching down, I groaned deeply as my hands helped to guide more of the baby out, freeing one shoulder before pushing the other one free.

You looked over your shoulder again just in time to see one last torrent of fluid gush out of me, drenching my hands as I caught our baby, shakily bringing it to my chest. Your mouth gaped, closed, until finally you managed to speak.