genuinely love the thought of a mommy that's maternal even during sex
her laying my head on her chest as she's playing with my body because the pleasure is too much. "relax baby, mommy's got you. Focus on me"
her reminding me of our safe word when we've had a particularly strenuous scene "How you feeling hun? you can always say the word if you want mommy to stop okay? i won't be mad"
wiping away my tears when i'm completely dazed from my third orgasm "you did so well sweetheart, mommy is so incredibly proud of you. You look absolutely divine like this"
"shh shh mommy's just cleaning you up okay? don't want her little girl to be all yucky"
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i love it when someone deep in labor is desperate screaming at people to "get it out!!" and that they're "gonna tear!!" meanwhile their pussy is juuuuust starting to bulge, they don't know that what they're freaking out about is nothing compared to what they're going to experience in just a few minutes when they start crowning.
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That’s it, let it stretch. Just breathe for a moment. Baby’s head’s right there. It’s burning, I know it’s burning, but you’re almost done, you’re almost there. Little pushes for me now. Nice and slow. Good pushing, here it comes! Just a little more - get ready to meet your baby!
Pre story notes: So this story is going to touch on some themes that have some personal meaning. I'd like to start with this; I know that this isn't how autism is for everyone. I get that, and I also get that I cannot cover it's entirety with a single character. It's a spectrum. And while I myself have never given birth, I can say that this is probably how I would react if I were put into this exact situation. If anything, Gwen is probably the character that is closest character to myself that I've ever written.
CW/Ingredients List - Just labor, birth will be in part 2
~
Gwen could barely see in the room she was in. She didn't have to in order to know where everything was, the safe way through her own bedroom, and normally, she wouldn't use so much as a flashlight to get through it. But her friend, Lily, wasn't so used to the exact pattern of her room, and had to use her phone's light to avoid tripping. Her midwife, Monica, was even worse off, needing it constantly to move around. Gwen tried to keep calm about it, but every time she almost got into a pattern where she could handle the steadily accelerating contractions, Monica would turn on the flashlight and ruin Gwen's rhythm.
"Mmmmmmm turn it off…" Gwen moaned as Monica turned it on again to find something.
"Sorry Gwen," Monica apologized as she found what she was looking for and shut the offending beam off.
Gwen closed her eyes and tried to recenter herself, only to feel her body torn by the contraction that had snuck up on her while she was distracted.
"OH! OW owowowowwwwwwww…. AH!"
Gwen was autistic. Learning that she was pregnant had been one of the hardest days of her life, the two lines on that test telling her that her perfectly ordered world was about to change. She'd been ready to go and make the appointment to end the pregnancy when she realized that despite the upending of her life, she wanted this. She wanted to be a mother. Balancing pregnancy with her autism was a challenge, the shifts in her routine, needing to rearrange her room to make room for a cradle and having cravings for foods she normally couldn't stand. But by far, the worst thing was the visits to the doctor. Sitting in a waiting room with dozens of other strangers, then being escorted by a nurse she didn't know to a doctor who would poke and prod at her without warning.
It had been bad enough that she had decided to do a homebirth, an environment that she was familiar with, an environment that she felt safe in, and most importantly, an environment that SHE controlled. She'd wanted to do a freebirth, just her alone, but Lily, her best friend and protector since high school had talked her out of that idea. It had taken a while to find a midwife that she liked, but Gwen had finally settled on Monica, and had been meeting with her since she was five months along, getting used to her presence, her voice, and her bedside manner. Monica was the perfect midwife, picking up on Gwen's issues with touch and control, and had adjusted her style of care accordingly. Instead of going in and having a nurse simply start palpating her belly and running a tape measure on it, Monica would ask her if she could measure her belly. Instead of just squirting lube onto her for an ultrasound, Monica would ask her and warn her that it might be a bit chilly. It never was, Monica always kept it warm enough to keep Gwen at ease. Even when labor had finally had started, Gwen had felt calm enough to call Lily and Monica so that they could help out.
Now Gwen was laying on her back on her bed as Monica got ready to listen to the baby. She figured most mothers found the noise soothing, but the horrid screeching warbles of the doppler made her want to tear her hair out, so Gwen had gotten ready by getting her headphones, the dull orange light blinking on them the brightest thing she could see. Lily tapped the back of Gwen's hand twice, a signal they had agreed on so that Gwen would be ready for the check. Gwen nodded, but still flinched slightly at the sensation of the probe prodding her belly. She wasn't having a contraction, but her belly was aching from the constant contractions. She'd been having them for weeks now, but they had been erratic, and their strength was inconsistent. She'd called Monica more than once only to learn that she wasn't in labor yet. Lily had done her best to remind her that the baby would come when it was ready to come out, but at forty-one weeks, the clock had been ticking. Monica had told Gwen that she wasn't allowed to help her with a home birth past forty-two weeks, and Gwen had made it under the cut by just two days. So by now, with all of the contractions she'd had, her belly was sore and tender to the touch, even between contractions.
Gwen felt a light tap on her headphones, and she slipped one of the speakers off of her head and groaned tiredly.
"Ok, Gwen, I'm gonna need to check your belly a bit more here. I had a lot of trouble finding baby and-"
"What?" Gwen asked, her heart feeling pained with how hard it beat in her panic.
"No, no, no, I found it, but not where I expected to find baby. The heartbeat is good, I just need to see where baby is."
Gwen nodded, but stiffened right after, "Ok just one second…. oh my gooooooood….. Ow ow ow owowowowowwwww! Ahhh, holy shit!"
Her own voice was loud enough the Gwen had to take a hand off of her belly to replace the headphones to make it through. She'd tried going without them, but it had only taken a couple of contractions before she starting getting what she called 'noise claustrophobia.' It would feel like every noise in the room was piling into her head and refusing to leave. So now she drowned it out with a calming ambience of low strings with waves crashing in the background. Closing her eyes, she listened to the most relaxing music Black Sails had to offer and rubbed her belly through the contraction.
This contraction went a long time, and Gwen could fell rather than hear her own voice level off into a prolonged moan. She'd tried taking a birthing class, but had to stop. Not only was interacting with that many people on a regular basis draining, but acting out the exaggerated breathing and practice moaning had felt embarrassing. She knew that they were going to happen, but surrounded by people all doing the same thing had felt so bad that she'd stopped going. It didn't help that the woman running the class kept calling contractions 'waves' or 'surges'. Gwen wanted to call them what they were; contractions. When the contraction was over, Gwen laid still for a moment, catching her breath before she shifted her headphones again and nodded for Monica to begin.
"Ok, I'm just going to feel…"
Gwen gasped and tried not to tense up too much as Monica began to palpate her belly, pressing and feeling around the taut dome that had dominated her midsection for 9 months now.
"Sorry Gwen, I'm being as gentle as I can…"
Gwen nodded and gasped again as Monica pressed a bit harder until she could feel the baby through her belly.
"Ah! Ah, please hurry!"
"Ok," Monica said, pulling her hand back and sliding off of the bed, "Ok Gwen, I'm going to go grab something from my car, I'll be right back."
"Is everything ok?" Gwen asked, a small trill of panic edging into her voice again.
"I'm sure everything is great," Monica said, coming forward to kneel by Gwen's head, "But, and it's not your fault, but you're moving a bit too much for me to feel what's going on. I'm just going to grab my ultrasound."
Gwen nodded, relaxing. Monica had a wireless ultrasound probe that connected to her phone, letting her show Gwen what was going on inside her from the comfort of her own home. At least the device wasn't as bad to listen to as the doppler. Lily grabbed Gwen's water bottle and swished it, feeling that it was a bit low.
"Do you want me to refill this Gwen?"
Gwen shook her head, "Not right now. Wait until Monica gets backkkkkkkhhhhhh Oh GOD!"
Gwen hurriedly slapped her headphones back into place as she felt another contraction taking her breath away. Her lungs had been mostly empty when the contraction started, robbing her ability to let loose during the contraction, leaving her with a dull throbbing behind her ribs as she tried to keep groaning without any wind behind it. Finally, she had to inhale, and even through the headphones, she could slightly hear the ragged, pained inhalation as she began to cry her way through the contraction, her belly hitching as she did, the movement making the contraction feel all the worse.
Monica returned after the last contraction had finished, and the next was just starting.
"Hoooooo…. Ow!" Gwen moaned as she curled around her belly.
Once the contraction had begun, Gwen found the very idea of moving revolting. She trembled, locked in place as the contraction gripped her, trying to dilate her cervix. It took it's time releasing her, but when it did, Gwen stayed locked in the curled up position, panting. She felt the double tap on the back of her hand, but didn't respond right away. Gwen knew that labor would be tough, dealing with her own body acting up, getting covered in her own fluids, but she had no idea how mentally exhausting it would be. When she felt ready, she nodded and slipped the headphones back off.
"Gwen? Can I check you again?"
Gwen nodded, and spoke, "Lily, you can refill it now."
Monica chuckled, "Lily left to get that as soon as I got back."
Gwen nodded again, still not opening her eyes, "Ok. You can check."
Monica warned her, and put a quick squirt of lube on her belly and began moving the ultrasound wand around.
Lily returned with the refilled bottle to see Monica running the ultrasound wand over Gwen's belly. Even though this is what Gwen wanted, she could feel her heart tearing as she watched her friend suffer. In a hospital, she could have gotten pain relief, or at least Lily would have been able to help get her what she needed, but here? All she could do was try to make her friend as comfortable as possible. And with the contractions getting closer and closer together, comfort was swiftly becoming a fading dream.
"Hmm," She heard Monica hum as she moved the wand around.
"What is it?" Lily asked as she came up behind the midwife.
Monica glanced at Gwen and then turned to Lily.
"The baby is breech."
Lily blinked. She had read up on birth the day Gwen asked her to be here for her, and knew a bit about breech births.
"But she can still deliver, right?"
Monica shook her head, "That isn't the problem. From what I can tell, the baby is frank breech, which, all things considered, is probably the easiest version of breech to deal with."
"So what is the problem?"
Monica hung her head, "I'm not allowed to deliver the baby."
"WHAT?" Lily hissed, glancing at Gwen as she flinched, and moaned for quiet.
"What?" She repeated a bit quieter.
"By law, since I know that the baby is breech, I have to recommend a transfer. I can't deliver this baby now, or I will loose my license."
"Why?" Lily demanded, feeling fury mounting.
Monica shook her head, "Another midwife messed up a breech birth a couple years back. It was… it was bad. Both mother and baby died. Now if I can confirm a breech birth, I have to recommend a transfer to a hospital."
Lily closed her eyes, "Is there anything you can do?"
"I could try an ECV, but-"
"A what?"
Monica huffed at the interruption, "An external cephalic version. It's where I physically move the baby. But I don't think Gwen would be able to cope with that much handling."
"I don't-"
Monica brought up a video on her phone and showed Lily, who flinched and shook her head, "Yeah, no, that isn't going to happen."
"So I'll make some calls, and then we'll get Gwen ready for transfer."
Lily looked at Gwen who was just beginning to have another contraction. She wanted nothing more than to hold her hand, but Gwen had made it very clear, she didn't want to be touched as she rode them out.
"I don't think she'll cope well in the hospital either."
"We don't really have a choice," Monica said, "I can't deliver the baby, and a breech can be too dangerous to do alone."
"She isn't alone," Lily retorted.
Monica shook her head, "That isn't what I mean. Look, I get it. I'm not trying to be the bad guy, but the best thing for Gwen would be for her to get to the hospital to deliver there."
Lily began to slowly nod, understanding where Monica was coming from. She turned to break the news to Gwen, but froze.
"You said deliver, right?"
"What?"
Lily turned back to Monica, "What if we waited? She can still deliver in the hospital, but she could labor here, right?"
Monica thought it over, "If… if. Well, it depends on a few things…"
"Like?"
"How far dilated she is for one."
Lily winced. Convincing Gwen to accept that was going to be a challenge.
"Let me do the talking."
Gwen almost wanted to change position. Maybe being on her hands and knees would feel better? At least during the contractions. But between them, staying on her side felt nice, and for now at least, she had more time between contractions than she spent contracting. Abandoning the idea of moving too much, she simply shifted, getting an uncomfortable fold of sheet out from underneath her belly and sighing in relief. As she settled back in, she felt the double tap on the back of her hand.
"What?" She groaned as she once again interrupted her music.
She just wanted everyone to leave her alone. She was getting touched out from the doppler, the ultrasound and the endless tapping.
"Gwen, honey, can you look at me?" Lily asked.
Gwen cracked an eye open, relieved that it was still dark enough in the room to keep her mind calm.
"Gwen, this is going to be… hard to hear, but I need you to hear me, ok?"
Gwen felt a small chill of fear, but nodded.
"The baby is breech."
Gwen felt her eyes widen, and her breath came faster. Breech? No, that meant that the birth got more complicated! She could feel her breath coming faster, but Lily put a heavy hand on top of hers and she felt her whirling thoughts slow down.
"Gwen? Did you hear me?"
"What? The- breech?"
Lily brushed a stray hair out of Gwen's face. Gwen hadn't realized how much that had been bothering her, and she listened as Lily repeated herself.
"The problem is Monica thinks it would be safer to deliver in a hospital."
"No! I can't-"
"Hey hey hey… just deliver. She wants to check you, and see if it would be safe to labor at home for a while before going in."
"Ok, with the doppler?"
"No."
"The ultrasound?"
"Gwen, she needs to check your dilation if you want to keep laboring at home."
Gwen could barely think. Checking her dilation? She didn't want that! Her clit had gotten so sensitive the last couple of months that even peeing had triggered her a few times. As much as she enjoyed touching herself, it had gotten to the point where she hadn't been able to masturbate in weeks. It had taken multiple therapy sessions to even work her way into a headspace where she could give birth. But a cervical check?
"No, I don't think I can, I can't, I can't! AH! OWWW! AAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHH!"
It was too much, all this bad news and on top of it, another contraction. Gwen howled in agony as it felt like it would tear her apart. She didn't know how long the contraction went for, but unable to put the headphones back on, she suffered through it without them. She could hear her voice going into a tuneless keening as she refused. There was too much tightening, too much information, she suddenly couldn't stand the smell of the lubricant on her belly, the slick sensation of it… She was having a meltdown. A small part of her mind recognized that, the rest just shutting down. She was too tired to do much anything else.
After a few minutes, she could hear Lily again.
"Gwen? Are you back honey?"
Gwen tried. She really did, but the mere thought of speaking was too much. She closed her eyes and felt tears running out of them. She hadn't had a meltdown this bad in years. She hadn't gone non-verbal… since graduating high school. She gave the only response she could, flopping her hand in a weak gesture. A pair of half-hearted slaps on the mattress. Slap slap. Yes.
"Oh… can you talk?"
A single slap. No.
"What's-" Monica began, but she heard Lily shushing the midwife.
Gwen flinched at the sharp noise, and heard Lily making soothing sounds as she knelt back down.
"Hey… I got you… Gwen?"
Slap slap.
"Gwen, listen to me. Monica needs to check you to make sure it's safe to keep laboring here, ok?
Slap.
"Gwen. If she doesn't check, we have to go to the hospital now to make sure the baby is born safe. Monica will be quick and gentle, ok? And if we have enough time, we can stay here until we need to go to the hospital. Does that sound good?"
Slap slap.
"So she can check you?"
Gwen didn't want to answer. She didn't want to be checked. She didn't want to go to a hospital. But… but she could see reality. In all her reading about home births, she knew that since the tragic incident a few years ago, no midwife could do a home breech birth if they knew about the baby's position. She also knew that she didn't want to-couldn't deal with a hospital right at this second. She swallowed and steeled herself.
Slap. Slap. Yes. Check me.
Gwen reached out and clutched Lily's hand as Monica pulled on a rubber glove and applied lube to it. The smell it had been giving off during her meltdown was mostly gone, but she could now detect a faint trace of it.
"Ok Gwen, I'll do this as gently as I can, ok?"
Gwen squeezed Lily's hand twice, and Lily, her friend, protector, and now translator spoke.
"She says ok."
Monica nodded and reached a hand inside.
"HmmmmmmmMMMMMMMMMM MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!" Gwen hummed and moaned.
It was too much. Her legs trembled and she wanted to slam them together. She could feel every single nerve ending in her crotch as if they were on fire. Her jaw, still locked tight from her meltdown felt sore as she clenched her teeth harder against the sensation. The hand stopped moving forward, paused for a moment, and began withdrawing. That felt worse.
"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!" Gwen cried, her lips still glued together, and she reached her free hand down, locking Monica's wrist in her hand.
"Gwen, you need to let go. I need to get out before you have another contraction."
Gwen shuddered, feeling the hand inside her grate against her as her core shook. That sounded revolting. Her vagina trying to clamp down around a head? She released Monica's wrist and the midwife finished pulling her hand out. Gwen shook and spasmed at the sensation, putting her free hand on her belly and curling up slightly. It wasn't a contraction, it was something else. It was an itch. A need. A… Oh. Oh no.
Gwen reached a hand down between her legs and clamped it over her clit. It was throbbing, begging for attention. Gwen delicately put one finger on it and shuddered. That single touch was almost enough. Her eyes leaking tears, she simply pressed a hand to her sensitive womanhood.
"Alright then, Gwen? You're only four centimeters dilated. We can stay here until you get farther along, ok?"
"Hmmmmmmmm OkAY! Hmmmmooooowwwwwwww!"
"Gwen? Are you ok?" Lily asked.
Gwen felt her cheeks heat up. She needed release! But she couldn't with eyes on her… It was embarrassing, and she didn't think she could concentrate.
"Too… much… Need… Hnnnnnrrrrgggg."
Gwen felt her legs spasm close and she shuddered.
"Gwen?"
"Gotta…. Get… Got out!"
"Ok, let's get you up-" Monica began, but Gwen cut her off.
"No. You! Get out. I need-hnnngg!"
She clamped her other hand at her crotch. She had to touch herself. She could feel her legs shifting as if she were doing the potty dance. She had to get them out!
"Do you need to push?" Lily asked?
"No… privacy!" Gwen panted, and Lily's eyes widened.
"Oh… Um… Monica?"
Lily gestured for Monica to follow her, and Lily guided her out the door, closing it behind her. Gwen sighed and removed her hand, a finger dipping inside herself instantly. It had been so long. She pulled the finger out, slick with fluid and began to rub at herself. The circles she rubbed out were frantic, fast paced and erratic, her moaning a matching soundtrack.
"Hnnng… oh god…"
Gwen stopped the circles, feeling wet enough and cupped her hand over her pussy and dipped her fingers back in, flexing them as if digging. She thighs quivered and she bit her lip as her hips bucked from the overwhelming sensation. Her other hand alternated between rubbing her belly and trying to grab at one of her breasts. And with one, slightly deeper flex, her entire body arched like a bow as she felt the orgasm flood her system.
"Oh goooooddddd…. Oooooohhhh…. OH! OH GOD! OH YES!" She screamed, the scream becoming a groan as, unlike the rest of her body, relaxing in little fitful spasms, her belly throbbed, tightening in another contraction.
Gwen struggled her way through the painful consequences of her impromptu masturbation, but sighed in relief when she could fully relax. She heard a light knock on the door a few moments later.
"Gwen? Can we come back in?"
"Hmmmmmyeah…" Gwen sighed, feeling more relaxed now.
Monica and Lily returned, Lily coming to Gwen's side and giving her a hug. Monica looked slightly embarrassed, but Lily had… well, she hadn't seen this before, but she knew that Gwen would do this to help sooth a particularly bad meltdown. And while she hadn't had one this bad in years, she had stood guard for her before when this had happened.
"S-sorry," Gwen said, her system still flooded with endorphins.
"No, it's ok, you do what your body needs, ok Gwen?" Monica replied, pulling the glove off of her hand from her check and throwing it away.
On one hand, Gwen's labor felt like it went more smoothly. On the other, she labored under the knowledge that eventually, she would be told that she had to get dressed for a drive to the hospital. After her meltdown, recovery and the orgasm she'd had, her contractions had gotten a slight hiccup to them, coming irregularly for a few minutes, but they soon reasserted themselves, coming, if anything, faster and lasting longer. Soon, she could no longer bear being in bed and got her self upright. Her back protested loudly as the weight of her belly hung itself off of her back once again, and she had to bend over, leaning over the side of her bed, burying her face in the mattress as she groaned, swaying her hips back and forth as she began to feel pressure building deep in her pelvis.
"Ooooooooohhhhhhhhh," Gwen moaned as she moved her hips in a steady rhythm to ease the barrage of sensations.
She had to maintain her flow, the few times she'd interrupted it to get a drink or scratch at an itch, she'd nearly lost control again, only managing to hold onto herself by moaning louder. Without a clock, Gwen never had a good perception of time, but she didn't even want to look at one to see how long she'd been laboring for since she'd been told that she would have to change everything. The longer she put it off, the better she might feel about it. And if she didn't look, some part of her irrationally reasoned, she wouldn't have to go.
"Oooooooohhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnn," She moaned again, the consistent sound trailing off into a deeper, more guttural effort as she felt something shift.
"Gwen?" She heard Monica ask, "Are you ok?"
"Shut uuuupp," She whimpered. She had just felt a new sensation. For just a brief instant in that last contraction, she had felt something else. Not just pressure, but an flutter of a sensation of what to do about it. The tiniest urge to push. It frightened her. She knew that if she was checked, she'd have to go in. That she'd be ripped from her warm, dark, comfortable-
"Gwen," Lily murmured by her ear, and Gwen began to cry.
"No…. I-I… I don't want to go…"
"Gwen, what is it honey?" Lily asked, gingerly laying a hand on Gwen's shoulder.
Gwen flinched at the contact, but after a moment leaned over and held onto Lily.
"I… I felt…" Her sobs were hiccupping now, and she could barely get the words out.
"Gwen," Monica asked softly, "Did you just feel an urge to push?"
Gwen couldn't speak anymore, and simply nodded.
Monica hummed as she rustled in her bag, "Ok… I know you don't like it, but… I think we need to check you out. I want to make sure we leave early enough that the trip to the hospital isn't too bad, ok? Can I check you."
Gwen nodded again, and with Lily's help, miserably crawled onto the bed and laid there, sobbing as the rubbed her belly. She'd stimmed by tapping complex rhythms and rubbing soothing patterns on the bump for months now, and she was going to miss the taut surface she'd grown accustomed to. She did the tapping now, flicking her fingers in a soothing beat as she let her legs flop open for Monica. She still tensed up, as Lily tapped the back of her hand, and couldn't stop herself from crying out as she felt the lubed up fingers press into her.
"Ok… Gwen. You're at about… I'd say seven centimeters now. I think we should get going."
Gwen didn't want to. She wanted to stay here. She wanted to be in a calm, quiet place where she could control what happened. But she knew why she couldn't.
Gulping back her sobs, she nodded, "Ok."
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I am back he he. I just wanted to write something intense, with lots of effort. Not a lot of plot or details on the time period, but it's not important. The characters in this aren't part of any specific story. Baby is 11 and a half pounds. Whew.
Small warning, though I don't know how badly it needs one: Tiny bit of scat, though no actual.. shit occurs.
See this fic on AO3 and leave kudos and comments! (registered users only)
It's tipping over to the third hour of Aldo trying to push this baby out, and he is sparing no strength at all. They all knew the baby would be big, and Henry knows the strength of his love. Three hours of pushing as hard as he possibly can means he’s made a lot of progress. But the head has been crowning and bobbing out for an hour, and the town’s midwife is growing concerned. Aldo obviously knows this. He can feel it. Henry watches, rapt, as Aldo's tight back muscles flex as he grips the headboard and the hanging scarf and gives huuuge shove after shove, grunting deep and strong now.
"If the head is stuck, I have to intervene," the midwife says delicately. "Henry."
"I know," he says, without looking away from Aldo’s small and skinny frame. He leans close to his head, whispering to him and rubbing his lower back. "You can do this, my love, I'm right here with you. Big push now, use all of your strength for them. Push, love, good, just like that. Don't worry about anything else. You just push push push."
Aldo grunts like concrete shifting, and that's really what it's like trying to move the head just a tiny bit more. Aldo holds his breath and strains, flexing his bottom tight and down, popping his narrow hips. He shakes so, so hard as he pushes, his bottom muscles flexing and jutting out beneath shining sweaty skin as he trembles, opening up. With his hand on the baby’s head, Henry can feel it coming down, down, slowly and with SO much effort.
Aldo holds down so hard and long until he's shaking hard enough to wobble the bed. Then his air explodes from his lips and Henry feels the baby's head jump back in. It's really Aldo's tissue that has it in a vice grip. With each push, his tissue drops down, still keeping tight around the baby's head, then when he lets his power go, his tissue bounces back. Winding his wrist around the hanging scarf again, Aldo sucks in a loud gasp...
And Henry watches how incredibly strong and beautiful his love is. He watches Aldo's back and how his bottom muscles flex and jut down, shining in the lamplight, pools of sweat gathering in the long strong dip of his spine. He flushes red all the way from the back of his neck, exposed by his parted drenched black hair, down to his waist. Henry keeps his hand very gently below their child's head, and he feels Aldo's strength working. It's trembling down, so so tight, fighting against Aldo's body.
"That's it Aldo, c'mon," he whispers. "You have the strength for this, you're SO close."
His love's head begins to tremble so hard, face buried into the pillow, chin tucked, and he bursts that one out too. Then Aldo raises his head and really gives it, sparing nothing else in his body, his soul, as he turns himself inside out pushing with the strength of gods, straining hard and masculine.
"UAAMM-mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm......"
Sweat pours off of his slim naked body in rivers as he gives, gives, gives... The midwife begins to speak. "Henry--"
Henry silences her, keeping his hands where they are, supporting the love of his life as he fights the hardest battle of his life. "Let him work. He's close." Then he whispers to his love again. "Come on Aldo, come on come on, give us our baby, you've never been stronger."
Aldo's face is raised as his head begins to tremble, grimacing so hard it looks like he's grinning. His hair is wet and stringy with sweat, clinging to his face and hiding his eyes. It's stuck to his throat, which is jutting out and bulging and popping with tendons and veins like Henry has never seen before, and it's a frightening sight. Henry doesn't even know if Aldo can hear him in this state. All there is in the universe to Aldo is his baby's life and the urge to push. Henry looks back at their baby's head, and most of what he can see is Aldo's bottom tightening, trembling, creaking the bed...
"GUHH!" Aldo expels, and spit and sweat hit the pillow. The baby's head sucked back in, but it did come out more! Henry is about to tell him, but he's sure Aldo can feel everything. Panting and heaving after pushing so hard so many times, Aldo gets a hold of the undersides of his ass cheeks with a sweaty slap, and he drags in a loud gasp, sitting slightly more upright on his knees, before he LAUNCHES down, the most pained and constipated expression on his red face like he's shitting a solid brick.
His effort is immediately felt. With that direction, and how he spreads himself wide open, Henry looks down to see his anus puff way out and open, his tissue bulging out more than before and trembling so hard. Putting the tips of his fingers around the baby's crown, though it's so big he can't fully spread his fingers wide enough, Henry leans back over to see the side of Aldo's face, and he moves his right hand from Aldo's lower back to instead press his palm flat to Aldo's shaking, pounding red chest, to help keep him upright.
His love looks like he's pooping with every fibre of his being, his face puffed up and red with popped-out veins, unrecognizable. His eyes are crinkled shut until he fixes that, calming his face, but still showing gritted teeth through tight lips. Drool is dripping down his chin, tears cascading down his cheeks. Henry rubs his chest between his heavy bare breasts and, shaking like a leaf, Aldo's mouth opens and he begins to roar, long and deep and animal, and Henry feels the head sliding, sliding, then much faster! And with a small ripping sound, it POPS out and Aldo screams raggedly, his voice unrecognizable.
Henry looks back to see that the baby is out to their brow line, and what a big long head! Aldo's tissue still has it in a vice grip, even as Henry tries to pull it up and back. With a desperate gasp, Aldo pushes again, this time silently, with every ounce of effort in him. He buries his face in the pillow as he trembles so, so hard, all of his back muscles glistening and popping out, his hips flexing as he widens his legs even more, pushing his crotch down closer to the bed, and his silence crackles into a deep and masculine roar.
"Oh that's it Aldo, roar them out." Watching the head sliding out more past Aldo's tight tissue, Henry laughs, impressed. "Good job, sweetheart, good pushing. Little by little it's coming out."
In response to the praise, Aldo raises his head from the pillow and gasps in again. Grabbing the bed frame with his left hand and Henry's thigh with his right, digging his nails in, Aldo bears down with every muscle in his body, strong and sweaty as he roars like he never has before, mouth wide open and face raised to the wall, eyes open.
Henry watches and keeps his palm open as past Aldo's ripped and red tissue comes the bump of a nose, oozing fluid, then a pouty pair of lips, and then a tiny little chin. There's a spray of water as his roar dies down, and the baby's head dips down down down, trembling with him, and then he can't push anymore and the head jumps back up, chin against his perineum.
Their baby's head is huge! It's so long and coned, the tip of it almost touches the sheet.
Aldo holds down very hard and strong, the baby's head trembling with his effort. Then, his energy waning, he releases with a quick sound, "GIH!" and the baby's head settles back, big chubby cheeks squished against his body. Their baby's complexion is purple, their lips becoming blue.
Henry encourages him. "Push again Aldo, you did it. The head is out."
Aldo is breathing raggedly, gripping Henry's thigh and feeling between his legs for the huge head.
"Aldo, you have to keep pushing," the midwife says. "Your baby needs air, give it the hardest push of your life. Right now."
With a fearful sound, Aldo raises up with a huuuge gasp, raising his left leg in a lunge at the same time.
Then he tucks, left hand on his raised knee, right hand in Henry's, shaking and flexing in the air, as he tilts his bottom down and grunts with everything in his power.
"BWUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH....."
Henry goes quickly between seeing the love of his life's red, screaming, agonized face to their baby's head trembling as Aldo pushes their neck out and out. Aldo holds down for so long and so dizzyingly hard, but there's no sign that it's coming out. Henry prays quietly, begging their baby to work with their papa, begging for Aldo's agony to end.
He can hear the midwife supporting him, keeping her distance as Aldo wished, but still doing her job. "So strong Aldo, you're working so hard. Big push now, BIG, you're almost done."
Aldo's roar goes guttural and he raises his face, new tears falling to the sheet. He chokes a little and his breath crackles, and he throws up water on his pillow. Then, with a quick and strangely alert glance at Henry, Aldo plants his knuckles on the mattress like a gorilla and, keeping his back level and his bottom out, he raises his other leg too so he's crouched and wide, wide open, and Henry gets fully behind him for the great big push.
Aldo's bottom is stretched impossibly far out, still bulging. His pelvis looks like it must be snapping in half. Henry sees all of his individual back muscles flexing and trembling, and he sees how big the baby's head is compared to Aldo's body. The head is so big and so elongated, covered in thick, wet black hair. No room to go. Henry gets two soft hands under Aldo's bottom to help him raise up just a bit, and then he watches Aldo flex and open dramatically as he bears down with every last shred of his being, grunting and roaring like an animal trying to birth this huge baby.
Henry has them both. With gentle and loving fatherly hands, he guides his baby's big head up until he feels a shoulder release and Aldo screams, and then he pulls down, still gently, letting Aldo and the baby do the hard work of birthing. Aldo's skin, though drenched and dripping with sweat, breaks out in goosebumps as his back ripples and his head trembles and he PUSHES even harder, harder than humanly possible, and their baby's neck stretches so much until FINALLY, there comes a shoulder, and it POPS out!
But Aldo has to keep pushing. Henry can't pull the baby out. His tissue is still so tight, keeping the baby locked in, whose little blue mouth opens in a circle as it gasps. Henry feels their little ribcage try to expand in his hands. His baby.. their baby is so fleshy and warm, so so slippery and HUGE.
He encourages his strong love. "One more push Aldo, ONE more as hard as you can!"
He watches in amazement and love as Aldo drops both knees down and grabs the headboard with both hands, arms above his sweaty back, muscles pinching together, as he sends his bottom right back into Henry's hands, GRUNTS like a wild animal, pushing harder than Henry ever thought possible. And the baby's belly slips past Aldo's stretched-thin and torn tissue, then their hips, and the rest flies out in a huge splash of warm water and meconium, and Henry cradles every slippery inch of their heavy, solid baby in his hands, as much as he can. For a few seconds, it feels as if this will just keep going and the baby will never stop sliding out, it's so long and big. But the legs slide out and immediately drop to the mattress, and the bed shakes with the weight of their child. Aldo's birthing scream is raw, ragged, torn from his throat like his soul is being ripped out. Then, in an instant, it's over.
Aldo collapses to the bed, to the side of his wet pillow, and his eyes are wide and glassy as he looks down his still big belly to see his baby. Only managing to hold in his tears because of pure shock, Henry gives their heavy baby, attached by a short cord, to Aldo, and together they rub the baby on his chest and belly. They're so big, it's no wonder Aldo's belly was so distended! They take up his entire torso, chunky and long!
But they don't cry right away. Aldo rubs the baby, panting, moaning, in shock, and he sees before Henry what the sex is. His eyes never leave the baby as he says with a raw voice, "Get her crying– Henry–"
Henry is stunned silent, looking at the love of his life and their big, blue baby. His body works for him and he lifts up their big girl–their girl! A girl! And he instantly tips her head back and blows air into her tiny mouth. He pays no attention to the midwife, who is still giving them space. He forgot she was there. All there is in the world is his baby and her first breath.
And just like that, it happens. It's a strained crackle for a long time as he and Aldo wait, holding their breath, and then...
Imagine you're deep in labor with your enormous, oversized, posterior baby.
This hasn't come as a surprise. You've known what was going to happen for months now, and you and your partner have planned for this extensively. Still, though, it's one thing to make plans for this in the cold light of day, and quite another to actually endure it.
"Theeeeere you go, just like that for me." He supports you from your side, holding you close while you moan through a punishing contraction. "Just let your body open up. You're doing so good right now." A C-section is off the table, so you're definitely going to need forceps. Still, you don't need them just yet, so, for now, you can labor in your own birth suite before you need to go to the delivery room.
"Nnnnnh- Fuck- Pressure-" You feel your contraction peak as a bowling ball settles between your hips.
"Alright, spread your legs nice and wide for me." Your partner settles himself between your thighs as that weight drops even more, until it feels like your pelvis is splitting apart.
"Now, give me a hard push- I need a hard, hard push, okay?" He presses back on your legs, and you curl forward and scream with the effort as you give in to your body's urges. "There you go. And again for me-" You curl forward again, giving everything you have and then some to bear down on the huge mass in your hips. "And again-" More screaming, more pushing, more of the same desperate struggle through the overwhelming pressure. "Again-" You push one more time, fighting hard to move your baby down just a little more, bearing down with every bit of your strength until you slump back on the bed at the end of the contraction.
You push just like that through the next contraction, and the next, and the next, and the next… You struggle for what feels like hours as he mops your sweat and kisses your forehead and holds your hand and tells you again and again just how well you're doing, that you're so, so perfect like this. You feel the endless pressure crash over you more times than you can count, like your womb is trying to crush you to death, like your hips are so full you're about to crack open, like you're pushing so hard you're going to turn inside out. He presses his fingers inside you over and over again, reporting with excitement on every millimeter of progress as you work your baby down until, finally, he watches your lips start to bulge just a little. He spreads you open with his fingers and-
"Oh my God, I can see the head!"
You fall back against the pillow in relief. This is it! You're doing it! You were so afraid you wouldn't be able to get this baby out on your own, but now- "Alright, push again for me." You curl forward with renewed energy, determined to push as long and as hard as it takes to have your baby right here. "Good! Good! Come on, hard push for me!" You cry out again as you bear down onto the mass in your hips, as you give in completely to the huge pressure deep inside you, struggling as long and as hard as you can until your body forces you to breathe.
"There you go! Push again for me!" You give another huge effort, bearing down with everything you have while he watches the head intently for any sign of movement. "One more, okay? Come on, have our baby!" You throw your head back with the effort, squeezing your eyes shut and gritting your teeth as you try to force that huge weight in your hips just a little farther down. You don't even have to notice the look of sympathy on his face to know you haven't gotten anywhere - you can feel the head wedged deep inside you, stuck, if anything, even worse than before.
Still, the thought of the "delivery room" makes your stomach turn. You know what's in there. Stirrups, drapes, catheters and masks, forceps, scissors, and needles, bright lights and antiseptic and harsh metal. If you give in, you'll be spread-eagled, cut, pried open, and- Yeah, you don't want to go in there. You shake your head to his questioning eyebrow.
"Alright. Get these wide open for me." He presses your legs back as far as they'll go, and you hold them there while you feel the pressure build to more than you can stand. "Give me big pushes now. Hard as you can, okay?" You do. You push long and hard, again and again, struggling through the whole contraction without feeling the head move a bit. You fight to catch your breath and, before you know it, that pressure is crushing you again, taking your breath away as you desperately bear down against the obstacle lodged in your hips. Your belly clamps down and lets go and clamps down one more time as you pull back your legs, pushing with tears streaming from your eyes as you feel every bit of your effort ultimately wasted, as you feel your baby's head stuck hard inside you no matter how much you push.
"Alright." Your partner takes your hand tightly in his. "I think you're ready now-"
"NO! No- Please- I can't-" You can feel tears running from your eyes.
"Shhhhhhh, you're okay, you're okay." He pulls your head against his chest, and you can feel his fingers in your hair. "I'm here for you, but this head's just not going to come out on its own." You choke out a sob against his neck. "I'm sorry. You're going to need the delivery room eventually." Another cry. "But we can push right here as long as you need to. We won't go until you're ready, okay?"
No! It's not okay! It's the opposite of okay! Why can't he see that you don't want- "Nnnnnh-" You're cut off by another surge of pressure as your belly contracts again.
"Come on, hard pushes for me. Let it alllllll out." Your body doesn't give you a choice as you bear down, a feral animal giving in to instinct as you struggle with your stuck baby. You're no better with the next contraction either, giving a huge desperate push down into your hips that gets you exactly nowhere, nor with the one after that while your partner waits patiently, telling you, "Go ahead and push, we're not in a hurry", and "Don't worry, we can take as long as you need."
You hang your head forward and pull your legs back, fighting your way through the contractions one after the other. You feel pain and cramping, then pressure, so much fucking pressure, and then you push, and scream, and push again, and scream again. Then, a few quick moments to catch your breath, to feel yourself tired and soaked in sweat, clinging tight to his hand before it all starts again. You just want the nightmare to end. You'll do whatever it takes to get your baby out, anything to stay out of the delivery room, but there's nothing you can do. You feel the contractions come and the pressure crush you and you pushpushpushpushpush with everything you have, but the head stays right where it is.
Nothing you do seems to help. You try squatting and feel the pressure get somehow even worse as the head rides down in your pelvis, as you push again and again with brutal, uncontrolled fury. For a while it feels almost like you're making progress, so you suffer your way through the endless, punishing contractions, squatting and pushing like your life depends on it- at least until your partner checks you and finds out that all you've been doing is wedging the head inside you even more. You try pushing on your hands and knees, feeling your belly weighing you down like a stone. You try standing to push, and find that your legs can't even support your weight. You try getting on your back again, and find that your baby is just as stuck as before.
You're not sure how long it goes on, the endless haze of cramping and pressure and pushing, growing more and more exhausted with each desperate, struggling effort, but eventually things reach a breaking point.
"Hey-" Your partner nudges you back to awareness. "Look at me." He manages to catch your gaze. "You need the delivery room." At this point, you're too tired to argue.
"I'll call ahead - we'll need a wheelchair, too." Fortunately, there's one nearby for just such an occurrence. You moan with discomfort as he helps you into the wheelchair and you feel it force your legs closer together, and he can see the dread radiating off you as you make the short trip to the delivery room. "Shhhhh, you're okay. You're okay." You sink back in fear as you catch sight of the doors. "You're going to meet our baby soon! Just think of that, okay? You're going to meet our baby." He gives your hand a short squeeze before he wheels you into the room.
It's just like you expected - a large obstetrical table at the center of the room, a spotlight pointed directly between the stirrups, trays of gleaming metal instruments, the doctor and nurses in surgical scrubs, and you the star of the show. "Alright, we'll get you set up on the table here and then we can get started!" The nurses get started on the preparations, and they go just as you feared. Stirrups, drapes, mask, catheter, spotlight, more and more restraints… You catch a brief glimpse of the doctor, an older man beneath his mask and gown, as he runs through your chart. "Let's see here… Significant macrosomia, persistent occiput posterior expected - and confirmed - scheduled forceps delivery, pushed for… how long?" "About four hours since the head came down." Your partner checks the time, and the doctor raises his eyebrows. "This is pretty much a textbook 'undeliverable', but I'm sure you had your reasons."
The nurses finish their preparations, spreading the stirrups wide apart as the doctor approaches. You can feel his gloved finger trail along your lips for a moment before pushing inside, feeling for the position of the head. Apparently satisfied, he reaches for the forceps, and you watch as he takes a moment to coat them in lube before he takes his position between your legs.
"Alright, just take a deep breath in-" You hear your partner's voice beside you as you feel a burning, stinging coldness between your legs. You can feel everything as the doctor levers the hard metal inside you, pushing in deep and sweeping into place. "And let it out, there you go." You feel weak, shaky as you grip his hand for dear life. "And breathe in-" More stinging pain, more hard metal pressing, twisting deep inside, sweeping into position. "And out." You let out your breath, and-
"Oh, FUCK-" You feel the blades lock together around the head, forcing you open somehow even wider inside. "I can't-"
"Shhhhhhhh. Yes you can. I know you can, okay? Just a little longer." Your tear-filled eyes meet his for a moment, until you're interrupted by the cramping in your belly.
"Alright. Hard push with this one." The doctor tugs gently on the head as one of the nurses adjusts the stirrups a little wider. "Hard push for me now."
You feel the fullness in your hips finally overwhelm you as you curl forward and bear down against the crushing, unbearable pressure of your contraction. You don't even have the breath to scream as you feel yourself slowly opening up, as you feel the head bulling forward bit by bit, burning more and more with the doctor's steady pulling.
"Come on. Cooooome on. Have our baby now." Your partner grips your hand tightly, and you do your best to focus on his words, on his touch, rather than what you can feel between your legs.
You can feel the pressure crushing you, making you drive down against the baby stuck inside you with all your might. You push with a fierce, desperate intensity, gritting your teeth through the burn that grows worse and worse as the harsh metal tools drag your baby forward. Eventually, your concentration fails, and you cry out as the head forces your lips apart wider and wider, as you're forced to stretch so unbearably far for your oversized child.
"Push through it, okay? Just push through it! You're doing so good right now!"
As though you could do anything else, with your belly crushing the breath out of you, with the huge baby wedged deep in your pelvis, with every cell in your body screaming at you to push and push and push even more. You scream again as you give everything you have to try to get your baby out, fighting against the stirrups and the straps holding you down as you feel yourself pried open even further before you collapse onto the bed again.
"There you go, theeeeeere you go." Your partner's voice cuts through your weeping as the contraction fades. "Just hold on, okay? I know you can do this." You're not so sure as you fight to catch your breath, as you tuck your head beneath his chin and press your face against his chest, but your body isn't giving you a choice. All too soon, you feel that familiar cramping tightness, feel that same desperate pressure building up in your hips.
"Alright, push just like that with the next one." You can hear the voice coming from between your spread thighs, see the light glinting off the metal wedged so tightly inside you. "That's it, hard as you can. I'm going to pull-" You let out a cry of pain as the burning between your legs flares all at once. "Push. You need to push now."
You grit your teeth as the pressure finally overwhelms you, screaming internally as you feel the forceps steadily prying you open more and more, as you lose any semblance of control, bearing down on instinct as your opening catches fire. All you can do is just try to let it happen, to try to focus on the warmth of your partner's hand, on his words in your ear as your lips stretch and stretch and burn for the head.
"I know it hurts, I know. Just have our baby, I'm right here for you."
You can't make it stop. Can't slow it down. All you can do is hold on and try not to scream. You're almost doubled over with the force of your pushing, with your body's involuntary, desperate effort to force your child out right this second, feeling the relentless, steady pull of the forceps dragging the head out towards the world. You can feel the fire catching between your legs as your most sensitive place stretches wider and wider with no end in sight.
"Little more now, just a little more. I know you can do this."
Eventually, your resolve breaks down. You scream, long and wordless even as you still can't help but bear down with all your might. It's all just too much, the unbearable, agonizing pressure, the brutal cramping in your midsection, the inferno growing worse and worse as you're mercilessly pried open with cold, clinical efficiency. It's just more than you can take as you cry out again and again, as you push and scream and cling on for dear life, feeling the head open you more than you could possibly imagine until your contraction finally lets you go.
"PLEASE- PLEASE- I CAN'T-" You give your partner a wild, desperate look. "IT HURTS- I CAN'T-"
"Shhhhhhhh, you're okay, I've got you. You're going to have our baby now."
The doctor keeps a tight grip on the forceps and stops the head from receding. You fight to catch your breath while you're forced to stretch so wide open, struggling through every bit of the burning those harsh metal tools inflict on you. Through it all, the doctor can see your clit as stiff and ready as ever, standing proud over the stretched-tight circle of your lips around the head.
"Here we go now-" The doctor watches your belly start to harden once again. "You should crown with this contraction."
Relief and dread wash over you in equal measure. One one hand, you're that much closer to the end. On the other, this is going to get worse before it gets better. In the end, it doesn't matter - your baby is coming out no matter what you think. You feel your partner's hand tighten around yours as the pressure builds again, as your belly does its best to crush you once more.
"Alright, hard push for me now-" You start bearing down long before he says anything. "There we go. Let's have this baby."
"BURNING- FUCK- IT BURNS-" You feel the doctor start to pull with the forceps, feel yourself forced open wider and wider around the huge, hard mass of the head, feel your lips stretching more and more and more, pried open mercilessy no matter how much it hurts. You try to fight against the restraints, to squirm away, to buck your hips, but it doesn't matter. You can't stop pushing, can't stop stretching, can't stop screaming- "MAKE IT STOP! PLEASE!"
"You're tearing just a little now. We'll take this niiiiice and slow, okay?"
His words fall on deaf ears as you push with everything you have to just get this over with, to just have your baby whatever the consequences, but the doctor keeps a tight grip on the forceps, easing the head out of you inch by brutal inch. "GET IT OUT- GET IT OUT- GET IT OUT-" You scream, and struggle, and bear down as hard as you can, but none of it makes a difference - you're forced all the way open as the doctor pulls your baby out of you in a textbook medical procedure.
"Annnnnnnd, that's a crown! Nice and slow, just like that."
"GETITOUTGETITOUTGETITOUTGETITOUT-" You push again and again in huge, desperate surges, struggling in uncontrolled, animal panic as you feel yourself slowly splitting open, as you beg and scream and fight against the forceps delivering your baby. The head is barely moving inside you- the doctor maneuvers as carefully as he can, leaving you stuck stretching and burning and crying out again and again at the endless, inescapable ring of fire.
"Come on, just a little more now. Just a little bit more."
"GET IT OUUUUUUUUUT-" You writhe on the bed, frantic and desperate as you bear down like your life depends on it, pushing until your breath fails you, then pushing again, and again, and again. "PLEASE! GET IT OUT!" You nearly crush your partner's hand in a white-knuckled grip as your entire world shrinks down to the searing, blazing circle between your legs, to your frantic, futile effort to just split your lips open and get the head out while your baby is slowly, methodically extracted.
"Almost there now- Allllllmost-"
"PLEASE- PLEASE- PLEASE- PLEASE-" You're reduced to a begging, sobbing wreck, pushing involuntarily with your legs held open as wide as they'll go, a whole roomful of people staring intently at the titanic bulge forcing you open, at the medical instruments making you cry out again and again. "PLEASE JUST GET IT OUT-" You feel the head pulled forward so, so slowly, just a little bit at a time, dragged out of your most sensitive place in an endless, burning agony. You throw your head back and give one long, wordless scream as the doctor pulls again, as the forceps hold you all the way open, as-
"And, there's the head!"
"That's it! You did it! You did so, so good!" You collapse back against your partner, sobbing in relief. He takes you in his arms and you press your head against his chest, doing your best to shut out the world for just a little while.
The world, though, isn't quite done with you yet.
You hear a click the doctor unlocks the forceps, and you wince just a little as you feel him probe a finger around the edge of your opening. "Alright, looks like… bilateral labial tears, then a midline tear as well." You don't want to think about that right now. "They don't look too bad, though." His finger probes deeper, and you wince again. "And, nice rotation from the shoulders- We should be good to go!"
You try to hide from this, to just bury your face in your partner's arms and escape, but your body won't let you. No matter what you want, you feel the next contraction coming, feel the pressure start to crush you again. You just want this over with. With a few fresh tears in your eyes, you curl forward once more as you give in to the pressure.
"This is it! Push, and have our baby!"
You push. You squeeze your eyes shut and grit your teeth and push with furious, desperate intensity. You feel the shoulders shift forward, feel them bulge outwards more and more, feel them stuck there for a single, horrifying moment-
"Alright, let's have these shoulders."
You feel the burning explode between your legs as the doctor pulls down on the head, growing worse and worse as you struggle with the size of your baby. "GET IT OUT!" You feel yourself stretching even more as the upper shoulder comes, forcing you wide open as the doctor starts to pull up. "GET! IT! OUT!" You push desperately as you feel the lower shoulder coming, pushing with everything you have as you feel a fire blazing between your legs. "AAAAAAAAA-" The shoulders come slow as you scream your way through the pain, as you bear down with a huge, final effort. Your body jerks as you give one last push for the hips before you're left shuddering and gasping and so, so blessedly empty.
After a moment, you feel something heavy and warm and wet placed on your chest.
"Oh my God!"
You open your eyes, and look down to see your baby. Neither of you say anything as you stare in wonder at the life you created together, but you don't need to. You're both already counting down the days until you'll do this again.
what would you say to me if i was in the delivery room, legs spread, shaking, knees pulled back to my chest? we’ve just been informed that the baby lowering into my vagina is at least 20 pounds, but you insist on a vaginal delivery… would you softly encourage me to breathe through the pain? or would you take charge, forcing my legs to stay as open as possible as you command me to push? what about when the enormous thing gets stuck, and the doctor prepares to insert forceps as a last resort? please, comfort me as he pulls the giant head out of my pussy.
I watch you gasp for air as the contraction finally fades. Your eyes wide and terrified of the pain yet to come, but you have no idea how bad it's about to get.
"A word, sir," your doctor gestured to me, "are you aware this baby is over 20lbs? We'll prep the theater for C-section immediately-"
"No." I cut the doctor off coldly.
"But-"
"This baby WILL be born naturally." I demand. You let out a shrill scream as a new contraction started, and that was enough to end the conversation.
I rush to your side and push your sweaty hair out of your face, "please baby, breathe through the pain. I know you can do this." I lean in and whisper sweetly as you pull back your knees and continue to grunt and scream through labor.
----------
"Push baby, PUSH!"
"RRREEEAAAAAAARRRGGHHH!!"
I'm standing at the foot of the bed holding both your legs as far apart as they'll go. It's been a few contractions since I last saw the doctor, so I took over in the meantime.
You gasp for air, and I shout at you, "PUSH NOW!" I don't remember telling you to take a breath? How dare you disobey me. I push your legs further back as punishment, and you howl in pain.
"MMPHAAAAAAHHHHFFGGGG! PLEEAAASE, MAKE IT STOOOPP!!
"I can't even see the head yet, baby. This is no time to take a break. You have to keep pushing." I command.
Suddenly, the doctor is next to me...holding forceps.
"That's it, keep the legs nice and open, and I'll use these to get that stubborn baby out!" The doctor pushed the large set of forceps into your tight hole.
"NOONOONNONOOOOOOAAAHHHHHKK!"
You thrash and scream in protest, but there's no option left. In a few short moments, this baby is going to get yanked out of your tender hole whether you want it to or not.
The doctor takes a moment to lock the forceps in place around the 20+lbs baby's head, and I take the opportunity to get your attention, "shhhsshhhshh baby, it's alright. Look at me."
Your eyes lazily roll around the room until they find mine, "please," you moan, "comfort me...?"
How could I ignore such a request? I move around the bed until I'm beside your head, and I wrap my strong arms around you, "I've got you now baby. You can do this! Feel another contraction coming? Okay deeep breath for me...aaaand....PUSH!"
The doctor yanked on the forceps, and you let out a shrill scream. Several nurses rushed in to help the doctor pull as you pushed. I let go of your shaking body only for a moment to catch a glimpse of the massive head. I watched your hole tear open as the largest part of the head ripped through you.
You screamed bloody murder as the doctor and three nurses yanked out the shoulders, and the rest of the goliath baby fell out of you. A perfectly natural birth of a 22.5lbs baby.
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