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you kneel between my spread legs and encourage me as i bear down, the first of seven puppies making its way along my birth canal. your fingers part the lips of my puppy cunt as the head of the pup begins to bulge and crown.

you have to force my legs apart as i cry out in pain and try to close them to escape the sensation, eventually giving up the fight and collapsing onto my side as the next contraction hits and forces me to push. you lift my leg up and rub my thigh soothingly, moving to place your hand on the crowning pup. you tell me to push. with a loud whine, i deliver the head into your hand and squirm uncomfortably as the shoulders rotate, panting and whimpering. with one more hard push, the rest of the pup slid out onto the towels. i whined tiredly, groaning as the pups shifted in my belly.

Hi, bunnies! 👋🏻🩷 I hope you're all doing well. Finally, I am able to post week 76, now I just owe you week 77 then, 78 this coming weekend. lol

I hope you enjoy this little story. And let's just pretend, that in this universe, preggo people can tavel by plane up until past their due date. lol

Word count: 5,632 words Summary: A heavily pregnant woman runs into her ex-husband and the father of her child. Author's Notes/Warnings: MDNI. 18+ only. This story contains explicit erotic content involving orgasmic birth, heavy lactation and nipple stimulation during active labor, graphic childbirth scenes...

I've posted the full uncensored warnings in the Vault to make sure this update doesn't go against the community guidelines of Tumblr ^_^

daddy said i wasn’t allowed to tell anybody. he pulled me out of school before i started to show. that was months ago, and my tight little tummy is squeezing down on the baby that is about to be born. daddy takes me in his lap and spreads my legs.

he tells me to breathe but i’m panicking, it hurts so bad and i’m so scared. something hard and huge is opening my private parts, and daddy holds pressure on it, shushing me and whispering, “shh, it’s okay baby, it’s okay, breathe, breathe. what you’re feeling is baby’s head, it’s right there. reach down, can you feel it? i know, i know, it’s big. but it’s almost over baby, i promise. you just have to keep going just for a little bit longer. i love you, it’s okay. you’re doing such a good job.”

i’m panicking. i’m breathing fast and heavy, whining and screaming as daddy frantically shushes me and puts his hand over my mouth, pulling me down into his lap. my tummy tightens again and i shriek into daddy’s hand.

“hush sweetheart, you have to be quiet. if any of our neighbors hear you we’re going to get in trouble. push, hard, if you can’t get baby out i’ll have to help you, and that will hurt even more than this. you need to push your baby out. ready? one, two, three.”

i push. i make only long, low grunt at first, but my muffled screams begin to emerge behind daddy’s hand as my sweet baby’s head spreads my little hole wide, so wide, and i frantically thrash in daddy’s lap. i’m not pushing anymore, but the baby’s still moving. the head has reached the point of no return, squeezing out so painfully slow. so slow that i can feel each of its features slipping out. the tiny nose, ears, and lips feel impossibly huge as they emerge from my most special parts. finally, the head pops out, hanging limply from my little body, as i shake and pant.

“that was it baby, good job, gooood job… baby’s almost out. one more, push it out. daddy’s so proud of you.”

i tense one last time, and a broken sob leaves my body as the baby explodes through my opening, flopping to the ground and starting to cry. daddy picks me up and lays me down, and i lay so still, my body screaming from the pain, my frantic panting the only sound in the room besides my baby’s shrieking. daddy retrieves the baby, holds it close and bends over to show me the baby he gave me.

“look, honey, it’s your baby sister. yes, it’s a girl! she’s so beautiful. you did it, baby. oh, i’m so proud of you. i can’t wait to do this again.”

when i go back to school the next week, my classmates look at me funny, and my teachers whisper to each other as i start on the work i missed while i was out. my tummy is still swollen and my little girl parts are still sore. but it’s all worth it. i’ve never seen daddy happier. when i get home from school, he’s watching a video on his laptop. my video. i can see my daughter’s head sticking out of my body on his screen, and i can hear myself screaming. when he notices me, he turns the laptop towards me.

“hi baby girl, want to watch?”

My alpha pins me down in the sun-dappled leaves with his front paws, snarling, his fangs snapping dangerously close to my ear. His body trembles and I know he’s in pain, but all he shows outwardly is anger. He lowers his knees to the ground on either side of my hips, and he hovers his naked pelvis over me. His eyes bore into mine.

“Fuck you,” he hisses, teeth clenched.

“Do you need to push?” I ask. I know his tell-tale signs of resistance. He holds off as long as he can but some things are inevitable.

He snaps so close to my eye that I feel his hot breath. Birthing fluid drips out of his pussy onto my bare cock, and I begin hardening.

“You won’t do this to me again,” he growls.

“I won’t,” I agree, and reach down to cradle his oversized belly in my paws. He tries to pull away, but he’s too deep in his labor pains—if he shifts and loses his concentration, his body will start pushing for him.

“You need to push out my pups,” I say.

“They are my pups!” he roars, and bites down on my shoulder.

I yelp. It hurts, but he’s barely piercing my skin. He’s in far more pain than me—and I inflicted it on him. He deserves to inflict a little on me.

His hairy belly goes taut beneath my paws. He whines around a mouthful of my shoulder. I reach up and clasp one paw against the back of his neck, pulling him close to me.

“Push,” I whisper. “Your litter needs to be whelped.”

He pulls in a wheezing breath, then another, then a third, and then he closes his eyes, teeth clamped in me, and pushes.

pretty sure this is my new favorite thing

gravity speeds things along fairly quickly—you can already feel the slow grind of the head passing through your cervix as your partner helps to get you situated, making sure that the straps around your ankles bear your weight comfortably and lavishing cheeky kisses along the curve of your knee and your inner thighs.

"you'll have my permission to push as soon as im ready, pet," she tells you, pressing a kiss to your sweaty, furrowed brow. "deep breaths, remember? just gentle little pants."

you exhale sharply as you nod your head, grasping on to the upper straps with a white knuckle grip. "h-hurry," you plead, toes curling as another contraction grips your womb. "hoooo, its coming."

"you're not in charge, my love. don't forget that." she fixes you with a stern stare, watching every ripple of your belly as you whimper and pant your way through the urge to push. she makes a show of stripping down- of getting settled- and she makes it a damn good one, knowing that you're hanging onto every move she makes. "god, you look incredible like this, baby. so ripe and swollen. so... open." her eyes are hungry as she stares at the bulge of your cunt, becoming more and more prominent with each contraction. "poor thing. you're fighting so hard, aren't you? I can see how badly you need to push."

and you do. the mere suggestion of it causes you to tense, struggling to suppress the urge to bear down. your hips are on fire, legs spread wide to accommodate the wide girth of the infant. "h-how much longer?"

a beat passes. and then another. another. the tail end of one contraction begins to bleed into the start of a new one, and you whimper as you squirm in the swing, desperate to try to close your legs together. "please," you whine, belly heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. "feels... nngh, like it's going to fall out of me."

"poor thing," she coos. "I can see the head, you know. that pretty pussy of yours is all stretched out. you're opening so well for me, baby." she lifts a brow, playing at the illusion of contemplating your request. "i'm just not sure i'm ready. this is such a nice view, and it would be a shame to rush it, don't you think?"

you cry out in protest, toes curling with effort as you struggle with the desire- the need- to push. the head surges forward in spite of all your work, peeking out from between the folds of your furled slight. "i-it's coming."

"oh, I know, my love. you're being so good. your body was made for this, wasnt it? you haven't even needed to push. all you need is to have those legs spread nice and wide, and you do whatevers asked of you, hm?" her grin is so sharp its almost predatory- your animal instincts are heightened in response to it, and you wail and thrash as the head begins to crown in earnest, stretching you wide. "does it burn, sweetheart?"

"so ba-aaaad." your words trail off into a small grunt, your eyes going wide when you realize that you've just pushed. "oh, god. its coming out. I... I can't hold it."

"I'm afraid that's unacceptable," she says with a disapproving click of her tongue. "hold still, pet. if you can't keep it in until I've had my fill of you, I suppose we'll just have to start over."

"no," you whine, eyes filling with tears. "it's just... hooo, this position. gravity." your thighs are trembling violently on either side of the slowly emerging head- almost two inches wide and still not even at a full crown- and you struggle against the straps of the swing to try to spread them wider. she wanted a show, after all. "I can be good. i-it's making me so full. so- hnnng, fuck- so wet too. you can... come feel."

The minister was very kind to take you in, especially when his wife had only left him a year prior. Your fellow parishioners had urged you to accept his hospitality, citing his kindness and charity, and you did not want to disappoint them by looking a gift horse in the mouth. You’d grown up in the church-run orphanage, and were not young enough to likely be adopted, quickly aging out of the system with nowhere to go. So you went home with him, and he took care of you.

Father gave you a bed in the room across from his, took over your remedial schooling on his own so you didn’t need to leave the house, took you to service on Sundays, and fed you better than you’d ever been fed before. In exchange all you had to do was help him with chores and keep him company.

You are allowed to eat whatever you want whenever you want, and after almost a year of living with him, you’re no longer the sickly figure you once were. Your thighs and arms have plumped out. Your ribs are no longer visible, covered by a nice layer of chub. Your concave stomach is gone, replaced by smooth skin with a few little rolls. Your once small chest has been nourished as well, combining with your grown into hips to create a youthful hourglass.

Father always tells you how pretty you are, helps you brush your hair and helps you get dressed in the morning. He helps you put on your panties and dresses and runs his hands over your new curves, complimenting how you are growing up. You are Father’s miracle, and he always tells you that he loves you.

When you keep Father company, you go to his bedroom and play games with him. Sometimes it’s hide and seek, when Father always hides under the covers and pulls you into bed with him. Sometimes it’s Blind Man’s Bluff, where Father has you tie a blindfold around your eyes and find him. Sometimes it’s Simon Says, where Father tells you what to do, where to touch.

Father takes care of you when you are sick too. Recently you’ve been sick a lot. You wake up in the morning feeling like you’re going to puke, and some smells make you sick too. You’ve been sore all over, like when you have a cold, and are always tired. Your feet get puffy and ache to walk on. When you lay down on your stomach your chest hurts, and the way your nipples rub against your dresses makes you make moan sometimes, and you touch yourself in the places Father usually does.

You want to keep Father company more often now, have become needy for his games, and he chastises you for it sometimes. Never seriously though, because there is always a knowing twinkle in his eye. You see him smirk in service when you have to cross your legs, discreetly bouncing up and down on the bench in the back of the church because it feels good. Your panties are wet, and you think it’s your cycle, but it never is. Your panties are always wet nowadays, and when you ask Father about it he says it’s normal, and he can fix it.

When you play games now, he pokes at your stomach. You are confused, because it’s gone from flat to poking out a bit, and Father tells you how nice it is you’ve gained more weight, encourages you to eat more to “feed that growing belly”. You blush when he rubs a hand over it, and moan out when his hand travels lower. And you obey from then on, eating everything he puts in front of you, no matter how much.

After a while, your ‘growing belly’ gets larger, pressing uncomfortably against your now tight dresses and pushing the elastic of your panties down in a way that makes you squirm. You don’t want to say anything to Father, don’t want to ask for more than he’s given you, but the waistline of your dress has been forced up under your bust, and your front buttons are close to bursting. Father gets you new clothing when your waistline rips to reveal your big, round tum and your buttons fly off into his mashed potatoes at dinner. The new dresses are not loose, but they’re stretchy in a way that hugs your curves, and Father doesn’t get you new panties. He says you’ve ruined so many pairs that you can go without. It’ll be easier for him to fix the wetness without them in the way anyways.

You initiate the games more than he does now, having him walk into you playing Simon Says by yourself, touching how he would. He always laughs and plays along, though it’s harder now with the obstacle between you. The roundness of your belly isn’t chubby like your hips or your thighs, but firm. When he is inside you, he presses down on it uncomfortably, which makes you moan. One time, you feel something inside you flutter when he is on top of you, and you move his hand to feel it. You play all night after that.

Your body changes a lot after that. Your belly continues to grow, and one day it feels sore when pressing against your dress. You peel it up and find a dark line leading to your belly button, which is completely flattened and uncomfortable. A few weeks later when you’re alone, it pops out when you rub your thumb over it, sending a shiver across your whole body. You feel more of those little fluttering movements, which are no longer light and more feel like your stomach is kicking you from the inside. You nipples get darker, and one day Father rubs them until they leak wetness. Now they make dark spots on your dresses to match the one at your crotch. When you go to service people coo over your tummy, asking about the ‘little one’ which you find odd, but you tell them it’s growing, and when they touch it you have to make an escape to the bathroom to wipe yourself dry.

Just when you think you’re done changing, your bump explodes outwards one day, completely dwarfing your body as it proceeds to slope down and rest over your aching hips. It forces you to walk with your back arched and your legs spread wide, which makes you feel exposed below. Father is more gentle when you spend time with him, peppering the red lines on your bloated belly with kisses and touching you gently. He teases you, you think, saying that he didn’t want you to “pop” before you were ready. You don’t appreciate it, needier now more than ever, but you think you understand. You’ve been getting really bad tummy aches recently, and Father doesn’t want to hurt you. You can see the impatience in his eyes whenever you rub the twinging underside of your massive belly.

Your cramps get worse during service one day, and you writhe uncomfortably in your seat in the back the whole time, occasionally letting out little noises that the congregation can’t hear over the organs. When you sing the hymns, you can’t help but moan them out, the sounds making you feel better as you rub your belly with both hands leaning back and spreading your legs. They continue to get worse even after service is over.

You waddle back to the car behind Father, the pain slowing your gaite as you keep one hand on your aching back. When you get in the car, you can’t help but keep your legs spread as you groan to Father that you think you you might be sick. He strokes your heaving girth and proceeds to push the end of your dress up til you’re naked from the hips down, slipping a finger inside you. You groan at the pressure and bat his hand away futily as he touches you. You feel your toes clench and your legs shake. Your body twitches, and Father makes a disappointed noise, urging you to do what your body tells you till you get home. Halfway through the drive something changes. Your moans turn to grunts as you try to push something out of you. You tell Father you feel like you have to pee, or maybe poop. He unbuckles your seatbelt so he can push your dress up farther, the cool air hitting your shiny belly as you watch it clench and move. You keep grunting, spreading your legs farther in the seat, and stretch your arm around to feel yourself. Your privates are hot and pulsing, and you feel more open than usual. It makes you feel strangely vulnerable, and you can’t help but place your hand firmly over your crotch, the counter pressure encouraging you to grind against your own hand.

Father pulls into the driveway and tugs your dress down before ushering you inside. You try to make a beeline to the bathroom, but he tugs you to the bedroom instead when you stop to groan. You don’t want to play right now, the pressure in your stomach hurts too much, but Father says he doesn’t have to be inside you. You get on your knees take him in your mouth instead, moaning around him as your tummy roils and clamps down, and he spills quickly.

Then he tends to you, peeling off your sweaty dress and rubbing the heavy bottom of your belly to try and sooth the growing pressure. You grunt, still on your knees, and your body clenches. You bring your hands down on the floor as well, your belly hanging so low that it just barely brushes the carpet. You spread your legs, groaning and grunting as the pressure increases around your hips. He gets down next to you and slides a finger inside you like he did in the car. You can’t push him away because your body tightens again and the pressure moves to your privates. You struggle back up on your knees and hold your rock hard belly with both hands as you try to push whatever is pressing downwards out of you, teeth firmly together.

Father pulls you up to your feet, about to walk you to the bathroom, and for a moment the pressure abates before you need to squat down. You scream as the pressure squeezes your belly like a vice, and you push down hard without stopping. Something explodes from you. Your thighs are drenched and there is a puddle on the floor. You’ve squirted the wetness before, but never this much, and you moan out to Father that you had an accident, your knees sliding further apart as you try and spread them while standing. Father tells you to sit on the edge of the bed while he goes to get some towels, presumably to clean up the mess you’ve just made, and you blush with embarrassment as you perch lightly on the clean sheets, trying not to get them too wet. When you sit down, something feels very wrong, and a panicked feeling rushes through you, your body automatically leaning back so that your privates aren’t obstructed by the bed, legs open as wide as you can keep them.

You’re panting in time with the clenching of your belly, the rhythm of the pain coinciding with the need to bear down, and you really need to stand up again and squat once the brief respite ends. Your crotch is burning and you let out a scream as your belly hangs between your knees, breasts heavy and leaking atop them. Father rushes back in and kneels under you, fingers skirting along the edge of your hole, and you can feel something large coming out of you. You want to ask what is happening, but you find yourself incapable of anything other than screams as the solid mas slowly inches its way through you. It doesn’t fully get out though, and the vice squeezing your belly once more eases, the big mass slipping back inside. You instinctively reach a hand down to your crotch. It feels hot and open and tender, and it’s still dripping as Father’s fingers move to stretch your opening.

Father pushes you back so that your butt rests on the edge of the bed, the sudden contact with your lower half causing you to moan and press your crotch out towards the air to avoid grinding it into the bedsheets. He places towels over the puddle on the floor and then has you stand so he can place one on the bed beneath you,something within you telling you to rock your hips back in forth as you wait for him to be finished. Your belly feels rock solid, and it almost hurts to touch but you can’t take your hands off it. The skin ripples under your fingers, and the underside is so tender that it makes you keen. Soon the vice grip begins to squeeze your belly once more, and Father pushes you onto your back on the bed, fingers digging into your sweat slick thighs still coated with fluids. Immediately it feels wrong, the pain in your lower back intensifying with the position, but you don’t have time to object before Father tells you to grunt with the pain and “push”. Whatever is stuck inside you must have to come out, and you do as he says, Grunting and pushing as the pressure increases, the burning around your opening coming back full force as you feel yourself stretch wider and wider. Suddenly it’s like your lower half is on fire, and you screech as your body keeps pushing, the tight squeeze not stopping until suddenly the stretch is over.

You flop back into the bed, still feeling something big between your legs, keeping them open. After a few moments catching your breath you notice Father talking to you, telling you what a good job you’re doing, that it’s almost over. You whimper, begging him to make it stop, but he just caresses your thigh before rubbing a palm over the thing coming out of you, a sensation that makes you moan and makes your stomach tighten and flutter. Your belly is a little lopsided now, the top less firm and the bottom heavier. It feels weird, and you ask Father if you can squat, the twinges in your lower beginning again. He helps you to your feet and then onto your knees, your belly keeping you from seeing just what is spreading you open.

You keep your thighs apart, rubbing your lower belly and moaning, noticing how much softer it feels overall, all of the weight shifting downwards. You grunt and give an experimental push to try and alleviate the pain in your back. But instead of easing it, your whole belly clenches, the swell pulled in and the muscles outlining the bulge within you, and the ache in your hips intensifies. Quickly your squat sends you to your knees, and you can’t help but pray that whatever ordeal you’re going through is ended swiftly. Father is behind you, and his hands are around the object coming out of your opening. You feel yourself stretch once more around it, your fists meeting the floor as you give one solid, final push. A scream tears itself from your throat, and you feel the fluid burst from you once more, and suddenly you know it’s over.

You’re on your  knees, gasping for breath and rubbing your tender belly with one hand while the other braces you on the ground when you hear it. Crying. Suddenly, from between your legs, Father hands you a baby. Your nipples are hard and leaking, and you instinctively bring the child to your chest. When he’s back in front of you, you can’t help but look at Father in wonder.

“You had a baby.” He says matter of factly, looking curiously at the child in your arms.

“good job, love,” i whisper just above your ear. “i can feel you pushing, you’re doing so well.” i pet you and stroke along your skin as the contraction ebbs. you nod into the crook of my neck, a soft whimper bubbling up on your lips.

“so much pressure,” you whine. “fuck, sir, i can feel them moving in me.”

“good,” i say. “i can feel your body, baby. time to push again.”

a high noise crests out of you as your body begins to push involuntarily, and hard. i take it as my cue to pin you down on our bed, thrusting my fat knot in your cunt. hard breaths bounce out of you as you writhe and push against me. then there’s a large pop!, and warm amniotic fluid gushes out past my knot as you cry out, pushing with all your might. i fuck in and out of you again, more of your waters leaking out of you with the motion.

“good girl,” i breathe. “i can feel your next contraction starting, my love.” you nod shakily. i pull back from you, stretching your hole again to the point that my knot is practically crowning.

“oh, fuck, sir, please!” you moan. “fuck, it burns, the pup is coming!”

“then push,” i say, eyes locked with yours. your body obeys, convulsing the hardest it has yet.

“fuuuuuuckkaahh,,” you breathe, exhaling long and focused as you push with your body. your breaths mount and careen as finally, you push my knot past its crest and out of your cunt, the rest of my cock following.

“yes, good girl, good dog, just like that,” i say into your neck, mouthing at the soft, sensitive place just above your collarbone while i finger and twist each of your puffy, sore nipples. “breathe deep and push for me.”

you do, and the head of our first pup descends through your sore cunt quickly. you breathe again and bear down, and with a hard exhale the head pops free.

“fuck, sir, thank you,” you slur, drunk on hormones and the mix of pleasure and pain. the pup’s body squirms in your birth canal, its born head rotating, the top of its shoulders beginning to emerge as your body softly pushes, then settles to rest for a moment.

“you’re doing so well, my love. the first pup is almost here.” i run my hands over your full belly. it begins to tighten again, and you breathe in sharply, a wince spreading on your face as pain mounts again.

“i can’t do it, fuck, i can’t!” you shake your head, the reality of what’s happening suddenly crashing down on you all at once.

“you have to, baby,” i say. “i know it hurts, but you have to push.”

a cry starts low in your chest and rises, loud, as you bear down again. “hooo—aaauuuhhhh!!!!” the pup’s first arm pops out of you. its second follows shortly with another gush of liquid. you breathe in sharply, with another short moment of rest. “hello, little darling,” you whisper to our firstborn. though not yet full born, the pup’s tiny muzzle opens with its first breath, hiccuping softly then opening its mouth, nose snuffling the outside world for the first time.

“oh,” you breathe softly, arms reaching down around your gravid form to cup the pup’s upper body. “come along now.” your body pushes again softly and you birth our first pup, wailing properly now. i pick up the pup and place her on your full chest. she latches and begins feeding, suckling eagerly.

“she’s beautiful,” i whisper, in awe of what has occurred, what continues to go on as your face scrunches with a new wave of pain mounting in your taut abdomen.

“fuck, sir,” you moan. “the next one, alre—aaAUUGHH!!” your body pushes again, hard, and the next pup shoots through your cervix without pause.

"yes, puppy, push!" i urge, helping you spread your legs out and up in the air to make room. your cunt starts to bulge out once more, and i run my finger just under the edge of your hole, stretched around the second pup. you moan, your clit swollen and throbbing from the pressure against it.

"please, oh fuck," you whine, trying to push but making less progress as the contraction ends.

"please who, my love?" i say, gripping your hard clit and tugging on it with the question.

"motherfUCK, i mean, fuck, sir, pleeeease," you moan, writhing your hips around as the pup thrashes within you.

"good dog," i breathe over your nipple, licking over it after. your whole body shudders, the pup moving downward with the motion. the three last pups wait impatiently in your womb, distending your stomach with harsh kicks and tumbling around in the space newly freed up by their littermates.

You can't control when the contractions begin, right in the middle of a terrible thunderstorm that's knocked out the power and the phone lines.

You can't control when they jump from fifteen to nine to seven to five minutes in an hour, the baby sinking lower and lower in your pelvis as you waddle your way around the house in candlelight.

You can't control when a contraction overtakes you right in the entryway to your house, causing you to grip desperately at the console table by the door and spread your legs wide, you're water breaking as you arch your back at the the release of pressure.

You can't control the grunts and gasps leaving your mouth as you waddle to your bedroom, urgently grabbing the phone only to let it clatter to the ground when a new contraction takes hold while the clear static of a dead line comes from the phone.

You can't control the way your belly drops over your lap, the baby sliding down inside you and making its way through your hips. It's coming fast. You had to be close to going into transition, and you had no way to contact anyone for help.

You can't control dropping into a squat, your hands clutching at the bedspread as you let your legs spread wide. "Oh god, " You gasp as your back arches and your belly contacts, "Oh god, I'm pushing!"

You can't control when your body begins pushing for you, the muscles tensing as the head drops through your cervix and begins to bulge out your lips from the sheer size of the baby making it's way through you.

You can't control the noises coming out of you as your lips spread into a teardrop shape, you're hand slipping from the sheets to cup at your bulging pussy. Your hand barely covers the mass that's emerging from you, and for a moment you feel dizzy with worry about how large the head is.

You can't control when the next contraction comes and you have to arch your back again, bearing down on the huge head as the teardrop shape opens even more into a wide, perfect O as the baby slides forward.

You can't control the fluids dripping and squiring out of you, spraying out around the head as you push harder and harder to get the baby out of you.

You can't control the visceral urge to narrate everything happening to you despite the fact that you're alone. "I- I'm stretching!" You cry as more of the head pushes into your hand, "Stretching so much! This baby is so big!" "Mhhh oh god, it's coming out!" You groan, your hand cupping the head as you birth it by the side of your bed, "It's coming out, its coming out of me!" "I'm crowning!" You can't help but scream when the head bursts into a full crown, filling your palm with its incredible weight, "Ooohhhhh I'm pushing it out! I'm giving birth right now!"

You can't control how you squat even lower as the baby's face begins to emerge, the eyebrows popping free with a gush of fluids. The rest of the face requires a bit more effort, the nose stretching you so thin you can feel it tugging behind your poor, abused clit. You rock your hips up and down, trying desperately to force the baby from you as if you're going to dribble it out like a basketball.

You can't control the cry of relief to let out when the head bursts free. "It's head is outtttt--" You moan as your pussy flutters for a brief second after being held open so wide for so long. Your legs shake, threatening to give out a you check for the cord.

You can't control the sound that you make when you look over your shoulder and see your reflection in the mirror. The way your legs are spread, thighs open wide and resting close to the ground as the baby's head hangs so heavily from your stretched pussy.

You can't control the desperate urge to just lay down and birth your baby, so you give in. One hand cradling the head to keep it from being jostled, you lay down on your side, letting the hand that was holding the head now grip behind your knee, hooking your thigh open as the head rotate and the shoulders slot into place.

You can't control the way the shoulders get stuck for a brief second. You push wildly, your thighs trembling and your belly squeezing and your pussy working hard to expel the huge baby inside of you. "Ohhhhh-- Come on baby, " You gasp ruggedly as you throw your head back, pushing hard and clenching your teeth, "Come on, you're so close, I can feel you!" And you certainly can feel the way the shoulders bulge against your hole, stretching you so thin you think for a moment you may tear.

You can't control the gutteral moan that leaves your mouth as you pull your leg up and open, one hand clutching at your huge, contracting belly and the other holding your leg open at the ankle. Your hips stretch do wide you think they may break, but you can't do much about it as the shoulders begin to open you up and you babble nonsense. 'My pussy!" You cry as one shoulder pops through, more fluid splashing out of you as your belly heaves, "Ughhhhh, I'm giving birth-- I'm pushing it out, oh fuck, it's coming out of me!" The second shoulder pushes free to, the rest of the baby coming out with a sick gush onto the floor beneath your sites thighs.

I had done an amazing job hiding how I felt the last few months. She'd told me so many times her greatest fear was getting pregnant, only for one guy poking holes in the condom to make that nightmare a reality.

She'd sobbed in my arms that she didn't want it, but hadn't realized what was happening to her until it was too late. I'd had my suspicions, but kept them to myself. It's rude to just accuse someone of looking pregnant, after all, even if it could have made them take a test in time to not have to endure childbirth.

Alas for her, she did. Her belly kept swelling, just getting more and more beautiful. Basically relying on me to be her birth plan, setting up everything needed to give up the baby. Just had to drive her to the hospital when the day came.

I knew she was in labor, of course, but once again, she was in denial. I was so excited as contractions got closer and closer, down to about six or seven minutes apart when her waters broke. It was very serious, I could tell. She went to change her pants and sweatpants, by the time she came back they were five minutes apart, had had three more contractions as she got changed.

We piled into the car, pulled out... And before long, got stuck in traffic. It was a dead stop at the beginning of rush hour, I was so happy.

I sat in the car, listening to my friend whimpering, moaning, panting, crying out through increasingly painful contractions. Then her eyes went wide. "Sh-shit... I think I need to push..."

The words hit me like a truck, even as she followed with "I can't push, I can't give birth here! Not like this!" I leaned back in my seat. "Sure you can. It sounds like you have to. Here... Get those sweatpants down, the panties too. Make space. You're about to be a momma..."

Another contraction came, her whole body tensed, and I ached for her. She was so beautiful in this state, and even worse, I could see she was pushing without meaning to. "That's right... Just like that. You can feel it moving down, huh?" I asked, undoing my own pants, making space for myself, off hand finding its way between my legs.

She nodded, sweating, hair a mess, clearly scared and overwhelmed. Giving into my urging, she tugged down her clothes, leaving her swollen pussy exposed. I helped her lean the seat back as well, to get more comfortable.

"you're going to have a baby in this car... You're about to give birth, it's happening right now!" She let out a little sob. "No, no I don't want a baby, don't want to be a mom... I can't have it in the car like this, I... Mngh... F-fuck!!!"

Another big push, and I couldn't help myself. The cars around us stayed completely still, and I began to shamelessly masturbate as my beautiful friend started to deliver her unwanted burden. "It's... Moving... Down!" She forced through grit teeth, unable to fight the commands of her body.

"keep going, keep going..." I panted. "Tell me how it feels, don't stop..." Pleasure surged as she managed "Opening up... So low... Hurts! I hate this!"

I nodded, gasping out "good, it's supposed to hurt, you're supposed to hate it..." A few pants as her contraction released... Then a gasp.

"Are you... Masturbating?! As I give birth?!" I nodded. There would be concequences, but I didn't care. "You're too sexy right now for me not to. You're perfect like this, I'm so lucky you're having it right next to me."

She shook her head. "I can't... That's so fucked up, stop, I can't... Oh... Mngh... N-no, no, stop! I can't have my baby while you- NGH! MNGHHHH!!!"

Any concept of choice was gone. I reached over, between her legs, and felt her as she began to bulge. I let out a lustful moan, cupping her as her lips began to spread. "Crowning, crowning, keep going... His baby is coming out... You're gonna be a mommy for Him!"

She sobbed, but pushed like she was meant to. The head crowned her more, more... Then sprayed into my hand fully as I came, hard. "Fuck! Just birthed... The whole head!" I grunted, a mess spreading as orgasm took me.

I came back to my friend panting, gulping in air between sobs, hand between her legs. "Gods... It's a baby... It's a whole baby... I can't do this, I can't really have a baby..." I just reached over, patted her leg. "I know. I know, you're so overwhelmed. But you have to. One more big push, ok? Just get those shoulders out and you'll be done... We'll go to the hospital, and you'll be ok..."

She nodded, refusing to look at me. It's ok, we were old friends. I knew she'd forgive me, eventually. Her belly squeezed down again, a deep, primal moan of effort radiating through her, devolving into a desperate grunt... Her legs shifting, crotch bulging... And just like that, dripping wet newborn skin quickly slid out of her most intimate place, into the world, where it began to cry.

I had a small aftershock hearing the baby slither out of my beautiful friend. Then rubbed her leg again. "There you go... It's out... It's over. You're a mommy now... The baby is out and we're gonna give it up... But you birthed it. Made it. You're a mom, and I'm so proud of you..."

Contents: Natural birth to triplets, lesbian fpreg, supportive and experienced birth partners, natural birth to large babies, intense, implied hyper belly

!!

It had just passed 5 in the morning, the orange sun barely shining through a small opening in the hut. Wyome was lying flat on the mattress, her stomach visible in her sight, a ball of light-blue, patterned fabric. She was making deep breaths, in and out, her girlfriend, Nascha, by her side, gently stroking her stomach. She’d been in labour since around half 3, but it wasn’t as bad as this, only a few occasional contractions.