secret spicy blog

The hospital room smelled like antiseptic and fear. Claire lay in the bed, her thin frame almost swallowed by the crisp white sheets, her blonde hair plastered to her forehead with sweat, her blue eyes wide and glassy with pain. She was thirty-nine weeks pregnant, and the baby had decided it was time. Layla and Catalina stood on either side of her, their faces pale and drawn, their hands gripping the bed rails like they were the ones about to go through this ordeal.

They had planned this moment together, the three of them, ever since those fateful pregnancy tests had all come back positive within days of each other. They had attended every birthing class, watched every graphic video, practiced every breathing technique until they could do it in their sleep, and mapped out every possible scenario they could imagine. But nothing, absolutely nothing, had prepared them for the reality of what was happening inside Claire's body right now, the way her abdomen would tighten and contort with each wave of pain, the way her face would twist and her breath would catch in her throat.

"I can't do this," Claire whimpered, her voice cracking, her blue eyes filling with tears that spilled down her cheeks and disappeared into the sweat-slicked pillow beneath her head. "It hurts so much. I didn't think it would hurt this much. Nobody told me it would hurt this much."

Dr. Morrison, a calm woman in her fifties with steady hands and an unflappable demeanor that came from decades of delivering babies in every conceivable circumstance, positioned herself between Claire's legs. The stirrups glinted under the harsh fluorescent lights, and Claire's feet were already strapped in, her knees spread wide, her body completely exposed and vulnerable in a way that made her feel like she was on display. The hospital gown was hiked up around her waist, leaving her distended belly and the dark thatch of hair between her legs visible to everyone in the room.

"Claire, you're doing beautifully," Dr. Morrison said, her voice soothing and measured, the kind of voice that had talked countless women through countless births. "Your contractions are strong and regular. Your baby is head down and in a good position. But we need to get you comfortable. Let's try you on your side. I think that will help with the pain."

The nurse, a stout woman named Margaret with graying hair and kind eyes that had seen it all, helped Claire roll onto her side. The relief was almost immediate. The contraction that had been building in her abdomen like a wave of fire subsided slightly, and Claire let out a shaky breath that turned into a sob of gratitude. "Better," she gasped, her fingers loosening their death grip on the bed rail. "That's better. Oh God, that's so much better."

But it didn't last. The contractions came faster now, harder, each one a wave of pressure that seemed to push from the inside out, building and building until Claire thought she might shatter into a thousand pieces. Her body was trying to do something, something primal and ancient and terrifying, but she didn't understand what. She'd read the books, she'd taken the classes, she'd practiced the breathing, but nothing had prepared her for the sheer physicality of the experience, the way her body seemed to have a mind of its own, the way it was taking over and doing things she had no control over. Her hands fisted in the sheets, her knuckles white as bone, and she could feel the sweat dripping down her temples, could taste the salt on her lips.

Layla grabbed one of her hands, squeezing it with a grip that was almost painful, and Claire clung to it like a lifeline. "You can do this," Layla said, her voice fierce, her brown eyes blazing with determination despite the fear that was clearly written on her face. "You're the strongest person I know. If anyone can do this, it's you."

Cat nodded, her fake blonde hair pulled back in a messy ponytail that was already coming undone, strands sticking to her damp forehead. "We're here. We're not going anywhere. We're right here with you, Claire. Every step of the way."

But as the labor progressed, Claire began to feel a strange sensation, something that made her stomach clench with a different kind of fear. It was like something was shifting inside her, moving in a way that felt wrong, felt unnatural. She looked down at her belly, at the way it seemed to undulate and ripple, and she felt a wave of nausea so strong she thought she might be sick. "Doctor, something is happening," she gasped, her voice high and reedy with panic. "The baby is moving weird. It doesn't feel right. Something is wrong."

Dr. Morrison moved quickly, her hands gentle but firm as she adjusted the monitor strapped to Claire's belly, the one that was tracking the baby's heartbeat and the strength of the contractions. "The baby is trying to turn," she said, her voice calm and reassuring. "It's still head down, but it's twisting a bit to find the optimal position for delivery. This is completely normal. The baby is just finding its position, getting ready to make its entrance into the world."

Claire didn't believe that. She could feel it, feel the way the baby was moving, twisting, fighting, like it was trying to escape her body from the inside out, like it was clawing its way through her flesh and bone. "Please," she sobbed, her voice breaking completely. "Please make it stop. I can't take it anymore. Please."

Dr. Morrison nodded to the nurse, who adjusted the IV dripping into Claire's arm, a clear fluid that was supposed to help with hydration and pain management. "We're going to give you some fluids," she said. "It should help with the pain. Just breathe through it, Claire. You're doing so well."

But the pain only got worse. It built and built until Claire felt herself drifting in and out of consciousness, the contractions pulling her under like waves in a storm, drowning her in a sea of agony. She could hear Layla and Cat talking to her, but their voices were muffled and distant, like they were speaking to her from the other end of a long tunnel.

Through the haze, she felt herself being shifted again, this time onto her back, her body arranged in a semi-reclined position with the bed angled upward. The stirrups were cold against her skin as her feet were lifted and strapped in, her knees spreading wide once more, leaving her completely exposed and vulnerable.

"Claire, I need you to push," Dr. Morrison said, her voice cutting through the fog of pain. "The baby is crowning. I can see the head. You're almost there."

Crowning. The word sent a bolt of terror through Claire that was almost as painful as the contractions themselves. She'd seen the videos in class. She'd seen the images of babies emerging, their heads stretching the mother's body to impossible proportions, the skin pulling and straining and turning white with the pressure. But seeing it and experiencing it were two completely different things, and Claire felt her heart hammering in her chest with a fear that was almost paralyzing.

"I can't," she said, shaking her head frantically, tears streaming down her face. "I can't do it. It's too big. It won't fit. It's never going to fit."

"You can," Layla said, her voice fierce and insistent, her hand squeezing Claire's with a grip that was almost bruising. "You have to. Claire, you have to. There's no other way. The baby is coming whether you want it to or not."

Claire's legs began to shake, the muscles trembling with the effort of being held up in the stirrups, the position making her feel even more vulnerable and exposed. The pressure was building again, an unbearable sensation that felt like she was being torn in two, split right down the middle like a piece of fruit. She could feel the baby's head pressing against her, could feel the stretch of her body opening, opening, opening to accommodate something that seemed impossibly, impossibly large.

"Push," Dr. Morrison commanded, her voice firm and authoritative. "Push hard, Claire. Now."

Claire bore down with everything she had, every ounce of strength in her thin, exhausted body. The scream that tore from her throat was raw, primal, animalistic, a sound she didn't even recognize as her own. She felt the baby's head moving, felt the sensation of her body stretching to its absolute limits, the skin pulling so tight she was sure it would tear. The burning was so intense she thought she might pass out, might simply black out from the sheer magnitude of the pain.

"Almost there," Dr. Morrison said, her voice calm and steady. "The head is almost out. A few more pushes, Claire. You're doing it. You're doing it."

Claire pushed again, and again, and again. Each push felt like she was being split open, her body being forced to accommodate something that was simply too big. She screamed with every breath, her voice raw and hoarse, tears and sweat mingling on her face. The baby was coming, she could feel it, and it was so big, too big, impossibly big.

"One more push, Claire. The head is out. Just one more push for the shoulders."

Claire gathered the last dregs of her strength, pushed one final time with a scream that seemed to come from somewhere deep in her soul, and suddenly the pressure was gone. She felt the baby slide out of her, felt the sudden, shocking emptiness, and then she heard the cry. It was the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard in her entire life, a thin, reedy wail that cut through the fog of her exhaustion and filled her with a love so overwhelming it almost hurt more than the labor.

"Congratulations," Dr. Morrison said, her voice warm with genuine joy. "It's a girl. Nine pounds, three ounces. She's beautiful, Claire. You did it."

Nine pounds, three ounces. Claire looked at the baby, at the tiny, squalling, red-faced creature being placed on her chest, and she felt tears stream down her face, tears of relief and joy and utter exhaustion. It was over. It was finally, mercifully over.

But Layla and Cat didn't look relieved. They looked horrified, their faces pale and drawn, their eyes wide with a fear that was almost palpable. "That was…" Cat started, but she couldn't finish the sentence, her voice trailing off as she stared at Claire and the baby, at the evidence of what had just happened.

Layla was pale beneath her tan, her brown eyes huge and dark. "I can't do that," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "There's no way I can do that. I can't. I just can't."

But she was wrong. Two weeks later, Layla and Cat were back in the same hospital, in the same maternity ward, but this time they were in a room together, two beds side by side with a curtain between them that was currently pulled back so they could see each other. The room was bright, filled with all the monitors, IV stands, and medical equipment they would need. Claire was supposed to be there to help them, to support them the way they had supported her, but mostly she was just talking about her own birth experience, reliving every moment with a kind of horrified fascination that wasn't helping anyone.

"So when the doctor was elbow deep in me," Claire said, gesturing dramatically from a chair in the corner, her baby girl sleeping peacefully in a bassinet beside her, "I thought that was the most painful thing ever. Like, I thought I was going to die. I literally thought I was going to die right there on that table. But then I started pushing." She shook her head, her expression a mixture of awe and terror. "I pushed for three hours. Three hours. Can you believe that? I thought my entire body was going to split in half. I was sure it was going to tear, I could feel it stretching so far I was sure it was going to tear right open."

Layla grimaced, clutching her belly with both hands as another contraction rolled through her. She was in the early stages of labor, still managing the pain with breathing techniques, but she could tell it was getting worse. "We get it, Claire. You had a hard birth. We were there, remember? We watched the whole thing. We don't need a play-by-play."

"No, seriously," Claire said, leaning forward with a look of intense earnestness. "Thank God my baby was only nine pounds. Can you imagine a bigger baby? Like the ten-pounders some women have? No, thank you. That would have literally killed me. I don't know how women do it. I honestly don't. Thank God my baby was only nine pounds." She waved a dismissive hand in the air. "I can't even imagine what you two are going to go through. I mean, look at those bellies. Those are big babies. I'm not saying that to scare you, but you should be prepared for a lot of pain. Like, a lot of pain."

Cat groaned, rolling her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn't get stuck. "Claire, you're not helping. At all. You're literally the least helpful person in this room right now."

"I'm just saying," Claire said, shrugging with a look of complete innocence. "At least my baby was only nine pounds. I mean, Layla, your hips are really wide, so you'll probably be fine. But Cat, you have those narrow hips. That baby is going to have a hard time getting out. I'm just being realistic."

Layla and Cat exchanged a look, a long, speaking glance that said everything words couldn't. They'd made a pact weeks ago, sitting together in Layla's apartment with ice cream and pregnancy books spread out around them: they would do this together, they would get through it together, and they would be there for each other every step of the way. But Claire's constant commentary was making it harder, not easier, and they both felt their patience wearing thin.

But they did not give up. They couldn't. The doctor came in to check the progress, and Dr. Morrison smiled at the two women, her calm presence a welcome relief from Claire's constant chatter. "Layla, Cat, you both look about ready to have these babies." She examined Cat's cervix with gentle, gloved hands, and Cat winced at the pressure. "Cat, you're at four centimeters. That's good progress. Layla, you're at five. We'll get you started on some pitocin to speed things up."

"Wait, I thought this was a low-intervention birth," Layla said, her voice tinged with anxiety. "We talked about this. I don't want to be induced. I want to do this naturally."

"It is a low-intervention birth," Dr. Morrison assured her, her voice gentle but firm. "The pitocin is just to get things going, to make sure your contractions are strong and regular. You'll still have a natural delivery. No epidurals unless you ask for them, okay? I promised you that, and I keep my promises."

Layla nodded, though she wasn't sure she was ready for this. Her legs were already up in the stirrups, the position making her feel exposed and vulnerable, and she felt the first real contraction wash over her, a wave of pain so intense she nearly cried out. She groaned, gripping the bed rails with both hands, her knuckles going white.

"Let's try a side-lying position," Dr. Morrison suggested. "It can help with the pain and it takes some of the pressure off your back. With your wide hips, it should be a good position for you."

With the help of the nurse, Layla rolled onto her side, and the relief was almost immediate. She could feel the baby moving inside her, shifting and settling into a better position. Her body was doing what it was supposed to do, and despite the pain, she felt a sense of wonder at the process. "Your baby is head down and in a great position," Dr. Morrison said after checking her. "That's exactly what we want. You're making excellent progress."

Cat, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky. Her baby was also head down, which was good, but facing the wrong way, the back of its head pressing against Cat's spine instead of her belly. Sunny side up. The doctor confirmed it after checking her with gentle but probing fingers. "Cat, your baby is occiput posterior," Dr. Morrison said, her voice carefully neutral. "Sunny side up. That can make labor a bit more painful and longer. The baby's head is presenting differently, which means it's going to put more pressure on your back. We might need to adjust your positioning to help the baby turn."

"Of course," Claire said from her chair, shaking her head with a knowing expression. "Because one of them has to have a complicated birth. That's just how it works. I knew one of you would have a hard time. I just knew it."

Cat gave Claire a death glare that could have melted steel, but she didn't have the energy to respond. Another contraction was building, and this one was different, more intense, more powerful. She could feel the baby pressing down, could feel the pressure building in her back and her pelvis. "I need to push," Cat said, her voice strained and desperate.

"Not yet, Cat," Dr. Morrison said, checking her cervix again. "You're not fully dilated. You need to wait until you're at ten centimeters. If you push too early, you could hurt yourself or the baby."

"But I need to push," Cat insisted, her voice rising to a near-shriek. "I can feel it. The baby is coming. I need to push."

Dr. Morrison checked her again an hour later, her fingers probing gently. "Okay, Cat, you're at ten centimeters. It's time. Let's get you on your back for the pushing phase. I know it's not the ideal position, but with a sunny side up baby, it's the best option to help the baby rotate."

Cat's legs were lifted into the stirrups, the cold metal pressing against the back of her knees, and she felt the position make her feel even more exposed and vulnerable. There was no time to think about that, though, because the contraction was peaking, and she was pushing before she even knew what she was doing.

On the other side of the room, Layla was also starting to push. Her legs were up in stirrups too, though she'd asked to try a semi-reclined position, with the bed angled up so she could see what was happening. The doctor was between her legs, and Layla could feel the pressure building, could feel the baby moving down with each contraction.

"Layla, your baby is coming wonderfully," Dr. Morrison said, her voice warm with approval. "The head is crowning. I can see it. You have wide hips, and it's really helping. The baby is coming out beautifully."

Layla pushed with renewed determination, a fierce concentration that blocked out everything else in the room. She could feel the baby's head moving, could feel the stretching, the burning, the sensation of her body opening in a way that was both painful and miraculous. It hurt, God, it hurt so much she could barely breathe, but it also felt right. It felt like her body was doing exactly what it was meant to do, exactly what it had been designed for.

"Cat, you need to push harder," Dr. Morrison said, turning her attention to the other bed. "Your baby is sunny side up, and that means the head is presenting differently. It's going to be more painful and it's going to take longer, but you can do it. I need you to really bear down."

Cat screamed, a raw, guttural sound that seemed to come from somewhere deep in her soul. Her hands were gripping the bed rails so hard her knuckles had gone white, and her entire body was trembling with the effort of the push. She could feel the baby, could feel the pressure, the stretching, the burning. It was everything Claire had described and so much worse.

"I can't," Cat sobbed, tears streaming down her face. "I can't do this. It's too much. It hurts too much."

"You can," Layla said from her bed, her voice fierce despite her own pain. "We're doing this together, remember? We're in this together. You can do this. I know you can."

Cat pushed with everything she had, every ounce of strength in her body. The baby's head was descending, she could feel it, that impossible pressure, that burning stretch. But it was taking forever, each push feeling like it accomplished nothing, like the baby was stuck and never going to come out.

"I see the head," Dr. Morrison said, her voice sharp with excitement. "Cat, you're almost there. Just one more push. One more push and the head will be out."

Cat gathered her strength, took a deep breath, and pushed one last time with a scream that seemed to shake the very walls of the room. Suddenly the head was out, and the sensation was indescribable, a mixture of searing pain and overwhelming relief that made her sob. She pushed again, and the shoulders emerged, and then the rest of the baby slid out in a rush of fluid and tissue.

"You did it," Claire said, her voice softer now, almost reverent. "You really did it."

Layla was still pushing, but she was so close now. Her baby had been head down and in a great position, and the birth was progressing much faster than Cat's. She could feel the head, could feel the stretching, the burning. "The head is crowning," Dr. Morrison said, moving back to Layla's bed. "Layla, push. Push hard. The baby is right there."

Layla pushed with everything she had, her body straining, the pain so intense it was almost blinding. She felt the head emerge, felt the sudden release of pressure, and then the shoulders followed. The rest of the baby slid out, and Layla collapsed against the bed, gasping and sobbing and laughing all at the same time.

"Congratulations, Layla," Dr. Morrison said, her voice warm with genuine joy. "It's a boy. Seven pounds, twelve ounces. He's absolutely perfect."

But Cat's baby was still being checked over by the nurses. The sunny side up position had made the delivery more complicated, and Cat had pushed for almost two hours. The baby's face was bruised from the birth, the skin mottled and swollen, but otherwise healthy.

"You have a healthy little girl," Dr. Morrison said, examining the baby carefully. "Six pounds, eleven ounces. She's small but she's mighty. She did great."

Cat smiled weakly, reaching out to touch her daughter's tiny fingers. "She's so small," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't believe she's so small."

"Small but mighty," Dr. Morrison said with a warm smile. "Congratulations to all three of you. You did it. You all did it."

Claire got up and walked over to Cat's bed, her own baby sleeping peacefully in her arms. She looked at Cat's daughter, then at Cat, her expression a mixture of awe and something that might have been jealousy. "You see?" she said, her voice carrying a note of triumph. "I told you it was hard. I told you it was going to be painful. But you did it. Both of you did it."

"Thanks for all your helpful commentary," Cat said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, though there was a tired smile on her face. "You really were a huge help."

Claire had the grace to look abashed, her cheeks flushing a dull red. "Sorry," she said, her voice small. "I didn't mean to… I just wanted to help. I thought if I told you what it was really like, you'd be prepared."

"Next time," Layla said from her bed, her voice weak but amused, "you can keep your helpful comments to yourself."

But she was smiling. They were all smiling, exhausted but happy, their babies finally in their arms. Three babies born from a night they'd barely remembered, a night that had changed their lives forever. A night at a frat party, a night of too much cheap beer and bad decisions, a night that had brought them here, to this moment, to these tiny, perfect creatures they'd created together.

The first sign of pregnancy coming from tender breasts

The slow (then fast) growth throughout

The first little dribbles, only noticable because someone is sucking on them when they happen

The first time it leaks through to the shirt for anyone to see

Using a pump to induce lactation so there's as much flow as possible after birth

Being in the middle of a social situation when boobs start aching because they've not been pumped recently enough

Nipples darkening and getting bigger

Dark outlines of the nipples being visible through shirts that used to be totally fine

The way nipples aren't just wider but also longer and pointier than they used to be

Rubbing specialty creams and oils on to soothe them because the growth is sooo much

(Choosing organic creams and oils so that after you use them, your lover can still suck them)

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.

I'm swollen and round, my big belly sitting low. Though my womb is warm and safe, it's growing much too cramped, and it's about time for our baby to come into the world.

The contractions hit fast and hard, and with each blinding ache I bury myself in your warm chest for comfort. You kiss my hair, hold my hand and reassure me the whole way through.

"Oh, god.." I moan. I can feel every stretched muscle constricting down, and I can feel just how low the head is sitting already, the way it settles above the bowl of my pelvis. The sensation is more intense than ever, and I toss and turn in distress.

"I know, I know. It's alright, you're doing so good." You attempt to reassure me. "It won't be long now and then the hard part will be over."

The contraction channels downwards and i suddenly feel a sense of urgency accompanying the pressure. "Ahhhnnggh, fuck, I feel like I have to push!"

"Okay, wait wait wait!" You jump up to reposition yourself between my legs, never letting go of my hand. "Let me check-"

"It's too late, I'm fucking puushhhingg!!"

It hits like a freight train, and by the time you've reached inside to check my dilation, I'm already bearing down. You don't find my cervix, anyway; the slick, bulging forebag of my unbroken waters dams the way through.

"It's coming. Ngggh.. It's fucking coming, I can feel the head entering my birth canal. Oh god, help!"

"It's ok, it's ok! You got this! Just take a deep breath and push!"

I push silently, my eyes shut tight and brow furrowing. I gasp and let got, and then push again.

You move down between my legs to watch, stroking my big belly comfortingly.

"Thats it, good boy. Keep going, while you have a contraction!"

I take a deep breath and the next contraction starts. I tremble and brace through it.

"Good boy.. here, open your legs up for the baby to come."

You gently spread my thighs wider and even without pushing, I feel my hips being opened up from the inside by the pressure of the contraction. I whimper and shake, crying out in pain.

"I feel something.." I reach down and touch the veil of membranes beginning to protrude from my slit. "Oh my god, is that him?"

You slip your fingers in underneath to see how far back the head is. "No, that's just your waters, but that means he's moving!"

I sigh and take a deep breath. As the next contraction comes I start pushing slowly. I pause and breathe, and with each push, the sac emerges from my opening lips.

"Alright, I need you to give me a big one here, alright? Okay, on three. 1.. 2.. 3.. PUSH! Yeah! Big push!!"

I brace and bear down hard with your instruction. "Push push push!"

You watch as the sac becomes more and more taut as it reaches its limit, the membrane stretching thin around the milky fluid within. Just as you think it ought to break any moment, it bursts from just below my clit. I moan at the sudden release of pressure as the water gushes out of my birth canal, surging out through my slit and pooling onto the towels beneath my hips with a splash.

Now you reach inside again and finally feel the head for the first time.

"Good job, there he is! I can feel him!"

I on the other hand am very, very aware of the position of the head inside me. The release of pressure doesn't last, and the tide lurches the head forward to sit firmly inside the narrow of my pelvis. The pain and intensity is immense, I can't even speak through it.

"Hey. Hey." You take my hand. "You need to breathe, long and slow okay? Take a good slow breath for the baby."

I nod and oblige, but it's not long before the contraction returns in force, and with it, the unbearable urge to push. "Nnnghh.. I need him out of my belly.."

"Alright, here we go again." You say, gently running a hand over the bottom of my belly. I'm already pushing, but you continue to reinforce me. "Come on, push push push!"

"Holy fuck! Unfhhhhh- Aaaaghh! Fuck, I have to give birth!"

"You're doing great, i can see hair! I can see the head!"

I grip at my belly as I push. The baby feels so fucking big, stretching me to the bone, unfolding me so agonizingly in its inescapable fate to be born.

"Push! Push!"

My muscles strain, I shake with the effort. Deep in the throes of labour I push, push, bearing down through the pain. The head comes into view but momentarily, and then retreats back inside the moment I stop pushing.

"Keep those legs spread, babe. You can do it. He's coming!"

It's so constant I can't stop. There's nothing but pressure and pushing, through the feeling of that excruciating stretch. I make progress with every push, my pussy opening slowly but surely.

"Nhhhh.. nnnggghhhh.. gaaaaaaahhhh...!" I moan through the pain.

The head begins to crown bit by bit between my legs with each desperate push.

"Keep pushing! Keep pushing! He's almost here!"

The head slowly approaches the crown, having been pushed all the way through my hips and now bulging out my slick, swollen entrance.

"There you go, you're pushing so good! Your baby's crowning, and you're stretching so well.

There's no stopping it now. I gasp and pant, eyes gaping as I'm blinded by the pain. My pussy stretches to its limit around the huge head, and with one more big push, the nose and chin slip out as the head is born into your waiting hands. You promptly check for the cord, which thankfully isn't around the baby's neck.

My whole birth canal is stretched from the inside out around the rest of the body and I feel the shoulders rotate inside me.

I pant and pant for a moment, and it isn't long before the next desperate contraction. Now is the final stretch.

I push and push, the head wobbles between my legs but doesn't budge. The pain and pressure are immense. The stretching feeling is different, deeper, but what I feel is fullness - so much fullness as the baby's entire body transits my body through my pussy.

"Aghhh, fuck, I can't! It's too much! Get him out of me!"

"No, you have to do it. You can do it! You're doing great!"

"I- can't.."

"Take a deep breath. Deep breaths. Now PUSH. PUSH! You have to push your baby out!

"AAAARRRRRGGGHHHHHHH!!"

You push back my thighs with each hand as I bear down, trying to open my pelvis and free the shoulders. Again the head wobbles from the strain but makes no progress towards being born.

"It's stuck, it's stuck!! I can't get him out! Help me, help me I need to birth him!"

You feel around the head and slip your fingers in under my clit and deeper inside. I moan as you finger my poor, swollen, birthing pussy. You don't find the shoulders, like you expected, but manage to hook your finger around an arm.

"Okay, I've got it! Push! Push for me!"

"Nnnnnghh- AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" I scream in pain as my hole opens wider as I push. This gives you the perfect opportunity to pull the arm free, sweeping it down over the baby's face.

"That's it! He's coming! Come on, big push! One more big push! PUSH!"

I throw back my head and roar, pushing as hard as I can. You pull and pull, and the rest of the baby begins to slide free of my pussy. With a sudden gush the other arm pops free, born up to the waist. I feel the relief wash over me.

I stop for a moment and breathe, the baby halfway out between my legs beginning to sputter and cry. "You did it!" you cheer. "There's our baby, he's finally here!"

2 / bed / 4 (extremely slow) / painful > Agonizing / No help / bath > bed / on side > squatting / Head first > posterior / Brutal > impossible / Second (you, female-minded)

Two for one

Word count: 1060

You woke up a few times during the night with cramping in your massive belly. Each time you tried to convince yourself it was just some Braxton hicks and went back to bed. That was until an unusually bad one had you gripping the sheets and crying out. When it was finally over, you made an attempt to sit up. It was quite the struggle with your massive belly and swollen breasts holding you down. With a bit of time you eventually managed to get yourself resting against the pillows.

Your contractions came and went through the day. Each one was getting more painful than the last and closer together. You found it harder to time when you could get up to use the bathroom or grab food. Each time you’d think you’d make it but a contraction would force you to lean against the wall in order to stay upright. 

Now it was nearly dinner time. You’ve been laboring all day and are exhausted. At some point you managed to move from the bed to the bathroom. Where you’re now clinging to the tub and fully screaming through your current contraction. 

(Birth Denial Request Game)

This definitely does make me think of a guy with a massive birth denial fetish engineering his birth so he can live out his fantasies… maybe he’s lied to his friends about wanting a home birth with only the midwife there, but actually it’s just him, 42 weeks pregnant with a baby so big that any doctor would have induced him a month ago.

When he goes into active labor he puts on several layers of tight clothes, and it works like a dream. He’s able to push the head right to his entrance, but no further. It’s agony, the massive head making his cunt burn, the pressure making him fidgety and listless, clinging to furniture and hitting walls to help him bear the intensity. He loves every minute.

The best part is the huge weight feeling like it’s falling out of him, yet still kept inside, pulling his hips towards the floor. He paces the house bow-legged, and keeps squatting instinctively, crying out as he feels his cunt spread just a little, the head straining his perineum. With all the layers on, the head can barely move even in a deep squat with what feels like all the gravity in the world trying to drag it out of him.

He reaches between his legs and feels how his body is struggling and bulging, then draws his fingers forward and hisses through his teeth as he finds his tdick. He rocks his hips back and forth and touches himself to the intensity and pain for a long time, until finally he cums with a scream and feels a desperate pressure-pain spike through his whole undercarriage as his abused pussy tries to squeeze with his orgasm.

Finally he decides it’s time to take off a layer of clothing. The moment he peels the leather pants down, he feels the head sag lower inside of him, his cunt stretching and the burn making him groan. The contractions are unbearable, and he’s exhausted from pushing already, but he keeps going, leaning against the wall and reaching down to feel the ever so slight bobbing of his crotch as he’s able to get the head a little further.

He drags this on for ages. Once he’s completely exhausted himself, he lays down in bed for the night with his legs spread around the struggling head and rests fitfully through contractions. The pain is like nothing he imagined, and he isn’t even turned on anymore, but he still wants it, needs it, addicted to the feeling of the massive presence pushing his body apart.

By the time he stands up in the morning, he feels like his hips aren’t even connected anymore and like the baby must be hanging out of him, but shedding a layer and feeling reveals that only a teardrop of the head is showing, his pussy still clinging jealously to the rest. He keeps pacing his house, making almost constant noise now, whimpers and groans that sometimes drop into silence as he pushes.

He ends up setting up his phone to record, getting out his favorite vibe, and taking a long video of himself leaning on the kitchen table, pleasuring his cock while the massive head spreads him. The overhead light catches his crotch beautifully, the shadows perfectly detailing every time the head inches a little further out with his pushing, before being pressed back in by his spandex shorts.

When he cums, his yelp of pleasure rises to a scream as the orgasm pushes the baby further. The camera records his perineum bulging several full inches away from his body as the head threatens to crown.

“Oh godddddd it’s about to come ouuuuut! It’s gonna crown, I’m stuck almost crowning,” he groans for the video.

He ends up taking his phone with him as he paces the house, rambling to the camera about how heavy it is, how much it hurts, how full he feels. “It’s so much inside me-“ he pants, cut off with a cringe as he pushes. “Hhhhhhh…! Fuuuuck!”

He drops the phone on the ground, and it watches him squat on top of it, filming his massive overdue baby crowning into his pants. He screams, fingers fluttering down between his legs as he desperately wants to touch, but fears to.

“It huuuurts!” He screams. “My pussy! Fuuuck, it hurts my pussy!” One of his hands fumbles away, only to return with the vibe from his pocket. The head spasms in his cunt and a long, agonized scream strains the phone’s recording capabilities as he presses the vibe to the tiny bulge of his swollen tdick.

“It’s too much!” he wails. “Too much on my cock, fuuuuck! No no no!” His hips lurch and tremble. Then suddenly his frenzied noise peaks with a truly startled screech as the crown lurches forward. The head should pop all the way out, but the clothes prevent it, keeping it easing dramatically in and out with the spasming of his pussy as he cums.

“Oh my god, oh my god…” He starts to bounce a bit where he crouches, whimpering as the head keeps up its ebb and flow, in and out. “Fffffffuck, I don’t want it to end,” he groans. “S’what I’m made for, made to push out babies, need my cunt full…” A few more delirious sounds. “Hmmmhhgh… M’so open right now, my pussy’s as big as my fuckin’ womb, not even a pussy anymore, huh, it’s- just a birth canal, I’m just a birthing bitch— AUGH!!”

The idle rocking of his hips and his own words wash over him, and the head almost bursts out as he cums, but he reaches down and holds it where it is, sticking so far out of him that it fills his whole hand. “Fuuuuck! My pussy, my pussy!” He whines like a dog. “Fuck, not yet, not yet… need it, need more…”

Audio distortion and strange shadows mark the video for a moment as he fumbles to pick up the phone. A moment later it lands back where it was in the kitchen, and he limps into frame with his hand desperately between his legs. “Fuuuuuck, I’m pushing, it hurts so bad, I’m pushing!!”

His face drips sweat, veins standing out on his forehead. The camera catches his heaving belly, contracted right up under his chest as his exhausted body desperately fights him to get the baby out. His shoulder trembles as he strains to keep it exactly where it is, even as he pushes against it.

“Oh goddddd…” He tips his head back, chest jumping, eyes clenched shut, “I need it, I need to push it out, fuck, fuck, I have to—!”

His eyes squeeze tight and his voice goes silent, all his effort diverted to pushing. He falls forward on the table, the head already straining the fabric of his bottoms. After a moment, it lurches even further out, at an odd angle as he births one of the shoulders.

“Augh!” His back heaves, head hanging as his body sags with relief. He squirms a little oddly for a moment, his spine arching and making the shape of the half-born baby strain his pants. “Hmmmmm fuuuck, fuck,” he moans, shuddering as he cums, “it’s coming out, I’m pushing it out, fuck, it hurts, I’m pushing it out of me!!!”

With a final shudder, he thrusts his hips back, and the crotch of his pants sag with the weight of what looks like a toddler. He clumsily reaches down to catch them, and waddles awkwardly towards the camera while he struggles to get them out. The video ends there.

He keeps most of it for himself, though he does clip the very end and remove the sound from it so that he can post it to social media: “Man Delivers Sixteen Pound Baby In Unassisted Home Birth”

- @distended-domes

Traffic was slow and silent that day. Stan and Elijah sat bumper to bumper as they had been since Stan’s water broke on their driveway. A sharp inhale brought Elijah’s hand to the top of Stan’s belly.

“Fuck they’re getting worse, how-ugh-how far is the hospital?” He shook with every word, feeling every muscle in his abdomen tighten more and more.

“30 minutes… but the gps tacked an hour onto that so we’ll see.”

“Uh ahhh fuckkkk I can’t do this, it hurts so bad.” Elijah stroked his cheek, waiting for the contraction to give way.

“It hasn’t been that long, I’m sure you still have time.” But it lasted even longer than the last one, and he had even less time until the next one.

“I can’t do this… I can’t do this… I-I think I need to push.” But Stan knew he needed to push. He’d managed to ignore it for a while but it only got worse.

“No. No! We need to get to the hospital I mean look at you! You’re massive and overdue, what if you need a c-section?” Stan cried out, gripping onto the car door and Elijah’s shoulder. He couldn’t think about the worst case scenarios and he couldn’t think about c-sections, all he could think about was pushing.

“It’s coming! I’m pushing! I-I-I can’t stop!” Stan bore down long and hard. He couldn’t hear Elijah telling him to try and hold back, he didn’t see his pussy already bulging in his tight boxer briefs trying to make room for the first kid, and he didn’t notice Elijah pulling over.

“Baby… this can’t happen in the car.” Elijah looked at him fearfully. He knew what he had to do, and he knew it was going to suck.

“I can’t stop… the pressure is so much, and I can’t deny this urge.” Stan threw his head back, knowing it wouldn’t be long before the feeling returned.

“Listen… there are some things we can do to stop it from happening-“

“Yes. Whatever it is just… yes. I can’t have this baby in the car, it hurts so bad and I’m so big.” Stan had pondered whether or not twins would be easier than delivering the belly he perceived as one giant kid, but he’d convinced himself it was just one baby, big enough to break him

Elijah reached into the back and pulled out a bag. In it, some toys. Stan knew what had to happen.

“Ok, your boxers are very, very tight. I think… if you can’t stop yourself from pushing they should stop it. If not…” Elijah pulled out a smooth, squishy plug and a chastity belt.

Stan gritted his teeth and scrunched his face up. “Please… drive.” He did his best to stop himself from pushing. It was agony, and every minute; every contraction, the pressure was more and more and more. He was already miserable by the time Elijah managed to get back on the road, but he was fully immersed in his own determination not to push by the time the car made it two feet. “I can’t do it… I’m so sorry baby.” Stan groaned and gave in, but Elijah wasn’t mad. He was terrified, but he wasn’t mad. After Stan finally released the push he looked down. His pussy was still bulging like crazy, but now the slit was solid.

“Ok love he’s teardropping. Do you think you can try and hold back again?” Stan closed his eyes tight and tried, but he felt the baby beginning to crown. He shook his head aggressively. “Ok hon… don’t be mad.” Stan looked at him teary eyed and watched his hand find the scalp. His fingers spread around his stretched lips and bulging head and slowly began to apply pressure.

“Ahhhhhh! It hurts! D-don’t stop!” Stan couldn’t even make any noise to deliver the feeling of his own progress being ruined. Every millimeter made him want to push exponentially more, but he knew he couldn’t. Slowly and strenuously he brought his hands to his waistband and tried to peel the soaked underwear off. Elijah stopped for only a moment to bring them to his knees and Stan was forced to hold the descending head in place. Before he knew it, there was a plug in his fluttering hole.

“I’m sorry baby we just-“

“No. I can’t have this baby in a car. You’re helping.” Stan’s words descended into a whine, and he felt his body trying to get it out. Elijah could see him shaking, and he saw his cunt trying to expel the plug. He put a hand on it and kissed his lover. They locked eyes and Stan cried out. “It wants out! I’m trying to so hard!” Stan began to cry and Elijah wiped the tears away.

“We can try the belt… it would let it move down a bit.” Stan swallowed hard and nodded. He gritted his teeth and held onto Elijah’s shoulder hard as he moved his hand away. With a pop the plug came out and you could see the head attempting to barrel down. Elijah managed to get the front of the belt on, and Stan sobbed as he sat up for the latch in the back

Stan began to giggle slightly through his sobs. “I think… I’m more upset about not being able to see it than I am about not being able to push.” Elijah burst out laughing and put his arm around him, planting a loving kiss on his cheek.

“We’re going to spend lots of time with this little one don’t you worry. You can stare at the top of its head for as long as you’d like.” Stan still felt miserable, sore, and desperate to push, but things weren’t so bad when he had Elijah with him.

“Oh fuck. Ohhh hmmmm… I’m not… gonna…” Stan closed his eyes and batted at Elijah for a hand to squeeze. He gave it, happily, and encouraged his husband.

“Don’t talk. Just focus. You can do this.” Stan’s chest heaved as the contraction ended after a few minutes.

“I can’t do it… it’s too low… it burns so fucking much Eli.” Stan whined as the next one followed almost immediately. “It’s trying to get out, I can’t do it! Please… please just let me.”

Elijah stopped for a second and pondered before regaining his consciousness. “Stan, baby, the hospital will be so much safer. I just… need you to be ok.”

“Aggghh… Elijah that’s very sweet, but - Ugh FUCK - I will be ok once I get it out.” Stan threw his hands up and gripped his headrest with all his might. “Fuck why did it happen so fast? I thought - aaaahhhhgg noooo - I thought it was supposed to take days the first time! OW SHIT!” The only two thoughts in Stan’s head were ‘don’t push’ and ‘holy fuck let me push’.

“But, b-but…”

“I’ve had my exposed pussy on this seat the whole time, except for when I had sex toys in or on it! Pull ovaaahahaahhhh.” Elijah did as he was told. “Hurry up and get this off me!!” Stan shook as he lifted himself so he could be freed, and the second the two saw the head stretching Stan’s lips he bore down. Almost immediately the head was out.

“Oh my god you’re doing it! Keep pushing.” Elijah unbuckled and kneeled on his seat to ensure that he had a good angle.

“Fuck! Oh my god it hurts so bad but I’m so glad I’m pushing!” Elijah kissed the top of Stan’s head as he bore down. Even though he whole head was free it was still big enough that the skin of Stan’s delicate cunt was white. It bobbed back and forth, the shoulders inching out ever so slowly but never being allowed their full width.

“Take a break love, you’re gonna hurt yourself. Let your hole adjust.” Stan stopped but sobbed loudly.

“I can’t do it! I just… can’t! Why won’t it get out!” Stan writhed in his seat, holding the head and daring himself to pull it out. Elijah put a hand on top of his.

“It’s ok. There is no one in this world who I trust to have a baby in a car more than you. You’re strong, and handsome, and smart, and…” Stan stopped listening and started pushing, he was desperate, “and I know you didn’t want to be pregnant, and I know that you were more sick about growing a person than you were morning sick, and I know that no one has ever tried harder to have a baby than you have, and I know I’ve never been prouder of anyone.” By the time Elijah was done with his speech Stan sat up and lifted the baby up from his seat, both of them crying loudly.

“Thank you… thank you Eli… fuck my pussy hurts so bad.” Stan laughed half heartedly and wiped his face off. He could still feel his contractions ebbing and flowing gently, but he ignored them, certain that they would fade. “I should probably try to push out the afterbirth, right?” Stan was still huffing quietly, but he bore down calmly without disturbing his own stillness.

“Gently my love.” Elijah watched as he did; the seat was fully soaked in birth fluids, and the severed umbilical cord lay limp between Stan’s legs.

“Ugh. Fuck this is heavy.” Stan tried once more and sucked in through his teeth. A strong pain gripped him again. “No. No no no no no no, nooooooowwwwww. T-take him…”

“Why? What’s wrong? It’s not… oh babe.” Stan sobbed once more as he realized what was happening. He pushed and felt movement deep inside of him.

“Hopefully this one will be as fast… I feel so stupid. How did they miss this?” He held onto his armrests as his body forced him to push more. He could feel it sliding into his birth canal.

“I guess it happens sometimes… well now we know why you got so big.” Stan yelped as the contractions peaked right as he had given himself some respite from forcing his second child out.

“I can’t do it again! Aahhhh, nooo get outttt.” Sweat poured down his skin as he pushed and pushed, his husband watching lovingly as he did his best to encourage him.

“You can do it. This is just… two for the price of one!”

“AHHHH FUCK! No! This cost is exponentially worse! I’m so tired.” Stan looked over at Elijah, the only thing giving him strength in that moment.

“It’s ok you’re doing so good. I think I’m starting to see something.” Stan’s pussy has started to bulge, but he was exhausted. His pushes had shortened to only a few mere seconds, and he could barely even feel his body screaming to bear down.

“Fuck I need it out. I think… you might AHHHHHH NOO!” Tears rolled down his cheeks and he pushed down once more, holding his belly and squeezing tight. Elijah looked at him curiously, waiting for his response. “Fuck you might need to help this time.” Stan feel back in his seat defeated. He couldn’t see past his belly still, but he could feel the openness of his cunt.

Elijah watched as Stan pushed frantically in short bursts. It wasn’t until the head sat comfortably in his ruined cunt that he answered. “You want me… to pull?”

Stan nodded as he hit the door flailing during a push. “Y-yes. I can’t do it. It hurts so fucking bad.” Elijah didn’t. He really didn’t, but he was going to. For Stan.

Stan continued to push, grunting, yelling, shaking, and sobbing until the head popped out. “FUCK ELIJAH.” Within seconds Elijah had managed to push his fingers past the stretched and ruined skinned of his husbands hole to hold his fingers under the shoulders. “FUCK FUCK NO STOP STOP STOP!” Elijah didn’t listen and managed to pull out their second child in the midst of Stan’s screams.

- a very sleep deprived Sol ✨

"Don't!"

Wren's plea is desperate, voice cracked and throat raw after the exertion of over a day and a half of labor and nearly an hour of pushing. They exhale a pattern of short little "ah-ah-ah" pants as their current contractions comes to an end and tapers off, leaving nothing behind but an overwhelming stinging pain low in their pelvis as the head grinds through the tight ring of their cervix. "It's... mm, it's too much."

"Too much? Really?" In the dim candlelight that bathes their bedroom in flickering shadows, their partner, Ramsey, grins, gleaming sharp and hungry. His hand remains between their thighs to cup the bulge of their cunt, marveling as the mass of the head (the overdue head, he thinks—Wren was what, 43 weeks, now? what must it weigh- 14 pounds? 15?) distorts the appearance of their sex and causes a significant protrusion of their vulva and perineum. "Are you sure about that? It seems like you could use a little help down here."

"Yes," Wren gasps, thrashing their head to the side as they gather their strength to push again. The heavy weight in their birth canal is almost too much to bear—they're too deep in it to find the pleasure, and the primal, driving urge to push is too strong to fight. "Just... need it out." Their hands clutches at the pillow behind their head, letting their knees fall as wide open as possible to encourage the descent of the head. "Oooooh," they groan, gritting their teeth as they bear down. "O-Oh! I- nnngh-I feeeel it."

"I feel it too, my love," Ramsey coos. What was prrviously nothing more than a small bulge had grown into a gaping "O" between Wren's legs, and a small sliver of the head had appeared between their slowly parting lips. Wisps of wet, dark hair peek through Wren's slit as they gather their breath and push again, and Ramsey can feel them press against his palm. "But I'm sorry, my little bird. You're simply not ready." He sighs, as if put out. "You're so tight down here. So tense."

Ramsey applies more pressure to the exposed sliver of the head, drawing a sharp snarl of anger and frustration from Wren. "Now, now," he tuts. "None of that. I'm trying to help you."

"You're pushing it back in!" they wail, bucking their hips against his hand. "Pleeeeease let it out, Ram. It burns so bad."

"You want it out?" Wren nods, frantic. "You want it to stop burning?" Wren nods again, whining as their feet slide against the silk sheets underneath them, desperate to get into a better position to deliver their child. "Most importantly, you want to be my good little toy, don't you? You want to give yourself over to me, right? Want me in control? I'm why you're so overdue. I'm why you're so full. I'm why you're so fucking desperate, panting and whimpering like a dog in heat, just so fucking eager to give birth so I can fill you up again. Is that what you'd like, sweetheart?"

A wave of arousal rushes over Wren, leaving them flushed and wide eyed, clit pulsing under Ramsey's eager touch. They stare at him for a moment—they take in the stern set of his jaw, the prominent lust in his eyes, the tip of his hard cock leaking precum against his thigh, the veins in his hand that flex as he pushes against the blossoming head and Wren's burning folds and—oh. There it is. Bleeding into all that pain and all that pressure is a heavy sensation of fullness. Desirable fullness. "Yes," they admit in a small voice. Wren's cunt flutters around the huge mass, and Ramsey groans in approval as he feels their sex begin to lubricate.

"Thaaaats it, baby. Oh, that's good. You're getting so wet for me, aren't you?"

"Yes... yes, sir." Wren struggles to sit up a bit more, and the shift in position causes the head to grind against a place inside of them that makes their ears ring and their vision go white. "Oooooh. Mmmmm." They begin to massage the underside of their belly as Ram works between their legs, letting the baby slip out to as far as their brow ("they're posterior, sweetheart- no, no, you can absolutely do it, don't start with that- you're going to keep pushing and believe me, you'll know when to stop") before he pushes it back in, never letting up on circling his thumb over their clit.

"Fuck," Wren grunts, thighs shaking. "I-I think I'm... oooh, god, iwannacumletmecum!"

Their body has gone taut as a bowstring, one hand gripped around the headboard as the other grabs their knee to pull it towards their chest, wild dark hair falling over their shoulder as they throw their head back and strain, shrieking with effort. "Need it... outtttt. Nnnngh, its crowning! Its so big, its gonna tear me apart." Ramsey had been right—they really are no better than an animal, sobbing and howling and screaming as they writhe and fight and struggle against the sting of their vaginal lips giving way to a massive head with a crown alone that's at least an inch across. But oh, the way that he looks at them for it. "Pleaseeee, Ram. Please, I can't hold it. Oh, shit, oh, oooooh. I'm gonna cum it out. It's right there!"

"I could listen to you beg for hours, baby," Ramsey groans. "Just leave you stretched like this, my baby spreading open that tight slit of yours. Let you cum over and over while I push it back up inside your hole. Get you so soaking wet that you'll start to think you'll be able to push out the shoulders with no problem- but you can feel how big they are, can't you, little bird? You know that's not true."

"They're huge," Wren sobs. "I-I'm so full of them. But Ram, Ram, I need to cum. Please. You can do whatever you want to me after. You'll probably need to, you- hoooo, y-you know best! But I ha-aaaave to push."

Wren falls back into panting: 'ah-ah-ah-ahhhhh-aggggrh.' They've bitten their lip so hard they've drawn blood but to their credit, other than an occasional little grunt, they don't push. So good, his Wren, Ramsey muses. Their eyes stay locked on Ram, who beams with pride as he toys with the idea of moving his hand.

He lifts it just a little, and Wren inhales sharply as the head surges forward, peeking out just past the crown. Arousal and amniotic fluid are trickling down their thighs, which quiver violently as they wait for permission to push. To give birth.

"You certainly have asked so nicely, my love. And the assurance that I can do what I want... well, that is persuasive." Splotches of red have blossomed across Wren's breast as they continue to pant through each contraction (ah-ah-ah-hnnnnnng- aH!- ah- ha), desperately fighting against something they can no longer control. The head slides out past its brow and the bridge of the nose bumps against the underside of Wren's clit. They whimper so deliciously in response, and the sound goes right to Ramsey's cock. "Poor pet. That must make things difficult, hm? You're so wet. So swollen. So eager for me." Ramsay leans back on his heels to survey the situation and then finally lifts his hand away for good. "Go ahead, baby. Push for me, harder now- harder than tha-."

Wren cuts him off with a wild scream, arching their back and lifting their knee nearly to their chin as they bear down. "Coming!" they shriek. "Pushing it outttt- holy fuck!" Their cries choke off into a primal moan, and their body shakes with the pleasurable release of their orgasm as the head pops free from the tight confines of their cunt, sliding out in a gush of fluid that puddles underneath them. "Oh...." they murmur deliriously, reaching down with a trembling hand to slide their fingertips over the scrunched features of their infant. "I did it."

yes, anon. yessss. such a good thought.

the head is out, just dangling between their spread thighs in the most obscene way, but they become overwhelmed and panicked by the sheer weight of the rest of the baby grinding through their pelvis. their poor, battered cunt is swollen and red and hot to the touch when their partner reaches down between their legs to provide support to their perineum as they announce that they're ready to push again, that they need to push again, words trailing off into a raspy groan as they draw their legs back and bear down.

"just so. fucking... big," they grunt, crying out in response to the sensation of the baby moving inside of them. despite their efforts, the head stays firmly stuck born to their chin, and no matter how hard they push, they can't spread their legs any wider, and theres absolutely no room for the massive shoulders to pass through to start to emerge. "think its... hnng, think its stuck." they suck in a deep breath, slightly dizzy from the exertion behind their pushes.

"yeah?" their partner kisses the top of their head, feeling around along the underside of the swell of their belly to try to get a feel for the position of the baby. "okay," he says in a soft voice as he finds the ridge of their pelvic bone, feeling the next mounting contraction as his partner's belly grows tighter and tighter around their womb. "okay, baby, we can do this, alright? im going to lift along here, see if we cant get that shoulder free, yeah?"

"no," they gasp, frantically shaking their head. the baby shifts again, movements so small and slight that they'd make no impression at all if it wasn't wedged inside their cunt with nowhere to go, and they breathe out a sob as they're forced to give into their urge to push. their thighs tremble and quiver with effort, sweat pouring down their chest and the gravid swell of their belly. "so... full. mmm, get it out of me! please get it out."

"ive got you, baby. ive got you. you just push, okay? use all of that pressure and bear down. oh, see, that's it. there you go. breathe and go again, dont let that contraction go to waste." as they push, he works desperately to manipulate their belly, but the shoulder remains stuck. his partner's energy is clearly waning, and after two more contractions and several solid, deep pushes, he knows they need to change something. quickly. "we need to move, baby. get you on your hands and knees, okay? can you work with me?"

they moan weakly, dropping their head back against the pillows stacked behind them. "it's just too big," they whine. "I-I cant do it." 13 to 14 pounds, the midwife had guessed. it felt more like 20. their vagina was spread wider than it ever had been, full and bulging with nothing but baby.

"stop," he says firmly, cradling their face between his hands. "you're going to roll over, and i'm going to help you. put your arm around my neck. lean on me." sensing their hesitation, he drops his voice into something more dominant. commanding. its the only way to get through to them now, he knows. "now."

"o-okay," they whisper. their voice is weak and their grip even weaker, clearly pushed to their limit after such a long labor and crowning stage. but as soon as their knees hit the mattress, a loud cry of shock rips from their throat, and they immediately tuck their chin to their chest and shift their weight so he holds the brunt of it, bearing down hard. the shoulder had cleared their pubic bone and slid straight through the loosened tissue of their cervix, coming to a halt right behind the enterance to their gaping hole. "fuck, it dropped! shoulders are comingggg."

gravity was working.

he slowly eases them onto their side and pulls their leg back, peering over their shrinking belly as the knob of the top of the first shoulder begins to spread their cunt. "god, you're doing so well, baby," he assures them, watching in awe as they grit their teeth and strain, face streaked with tears and sweat. "its working itself down, yeah? that sweet little slit of yours is really open now, baby. so open. can you keep pushing for me? just like- yessss, just like that. oh, thats it. here it comes, it's coming!"

"I know," they snap, pausing to take one short breath before bearing down again. their perineum bulges and they howl as they take hold of their other leg and pull themselves as open as they can. "mmm, im gonna tear. its gonna rip me apart!"

"it's not, love. its not, alright? thats just the shoulder coming free. I know it burns, especially pressed up against that pretty clit of yours, im sure. but you're doing it. breathe, baby. just keep breathing." he leans further over, eyes shining with pride. "shoulders are out! oh my god, baby. one more push and they'll be here. come on. you can do it."

they inhale shakily, lips of their cunt spasming around the torso of the half born infant. "o-one more?"

They've been stuck at the point of almost crowning for about two hours now— the absolutely massive head sits wedged and unmoving in their birth canal, bulging out their perineum and the structure of their cunt with its obscene size. The lips of their labia are an angry shade of red, gaping and dribbling fluid down their thighs each time they attempt to push.

But as soon as their tissues begin to stretch around the width of the skull barreling down through their cervix, they lose control of the push, and the game of 'out-in-out-back in again' they're waging with the crown starts all over again.

"Oooooh, its coming," they grunt. They shove up onto their elbows, pressing their chin to their chest as they grit their teeth and bear down. "Aghhhhhh!" Their cunt continues to bulge as they push with all of their strength. "Hnnnng, it hurts! My pussy burns!"

"Come on!" you command harshly, peering between their legs. Their furled slit has opened just slightly, giving you a small, brief glimpse of a few wisps of wet, dark hair. "Don't give up. Keep pushing!"

They wail and thrash their head from side to side, thighs snapping closed as the head slips back up into their tortured canal. "I cant!" they sob, legs shaking with effort as they attempt to hold the baby inside of them. "It hurts so b-bad. It-mmmmmph, it burns!"

"I know it hurts," you assure them, running your hand over their flank as you lean in to press a kiss to their sweaty forehead. "But you're only making it harder on yourself, baby. You need to push." You reach down between their legs, gently shushing their cries of protests as you make space. Their lower belly spasms as the head surges forward once more, earning a frantic, shrill scream in response. "Save your energy," you tell them firmly. "Use all of that to get this baby out."

They scream again, a deep shrill roar that rises from their chest as they throw their head back. "Let me go!' they yell, overwhelmed as the head begins to push their labia into a yawning teardrop, clit pulsing above the emerging skull. "Fuck, its burning! I'm ripping! I'm gonna tear ap-pa-rrrrrt! Hrrrrrrg!"

They continue to thrash and scream as they strain, working equally as hard to shove the baby out of their battered hole as they are to try to keep it inside. "ohmygodmakeitstopppppp!"

"It needs to come out, baby!" You watch the head peak-a-boo, groaning in frustration as your partner once again wrenchs free and snaps their legs closes.

"Hurts," they whine, panting for breath as they fall back against the pillows. "I can't take the pain. I didnt... didn't think it would be like this. I—ohhhh, nooooo." Their breath catches, belly going taut as it squeezes down around their contracting womb. "Mmmm, its coming. Ooooh, fuck. Oooooh." Their feet scrabble at the damp sheets as instinct overwhelms them and they push, cunt bulging wide until it pushes their thighs apart. "Its in my pussy! Ooh, my poor pussy!"

Taking advantage of their distraction, you lean over them and take them into your arms, pulling them into a kneeling position. Between their legs, the head surges from just barely visible to fully crowning with the help of gravity, and they scream and sob hysterically. "Holyfuck, my cuntttt. Oh, my cunt. It burns! Its gonna tear me!" They continue to babble as you reach down to cup the emerging head, pressing your thumb against their clit.

"Push!" you bellow over them, shoving your knee in-between theirs to hold them open as they howl and screech, leaking blood and fluid as the large, extremely overdue head painstakingly inches its way out. "Here it comes! Get it out, baby!"

"Nnnnnuggghhhh!"

"It's past the crown!" The posterior head has finally begun to show itself. You continue to provide counter pressure to your partner's clit as they bear down, veins popping and skin turning bright red as they shriek about feeling their pussy tear. "Go, go, GO! Keeping fucking pushing!"

"MmmmmphGOD!" The stretched ring of their vagaina has gone shock white, bloodless and gaping around the overdue infant. Its brows. Its nose. Its chin. "Coming outtttnnnngh-holy fuckkkkk! I'm gonna split in half!"

"PUSH!"

In our space, it's just you and me naked on the bed we conceived our child. The many hours of labour have been a blur of gentle foreplay, orgasms, ever intensifying contractions and my curiosity to check your dilation.

There is a collective rush up our spines as I announce that I feel your cervix is 10 cms dilated and fully effaced. Following our natural urges, you move from laying on a mountain of pillows onto your hands and knees. I watch intently as you assume the position, presenting your beautiful glistening pussy towards me.

Your gravid belly rests against the bed sheet. Your heavy milk-laden breasts shift softly to the motion of your hips as you brace another deep contraction. "Ungghhh ohh uhhh mmmmm uh ohh uhhhh please ahh uhh ohh take meeee," you pant, trying to rise above the pain.

Leaning towards the bedside I reach for a mirror to place on the bed underneath you to reflect your gorgeous pussy. In one swift motion I squirt some lube onto my fingers, rubbing them along my shaft and then teasing your tight little asshole, slowly sliding a finger inside in between contractions.

"Ahhhhh I need to push," you exclaim, grabbing the bed sheet in your fist. "Mmmm not yet babe, I need to feel you," I smirk, responding to your urgency.

Tapping the tip of my cock against your asshole. Your hips begin to shift wildly, fighting off the contraction while assisting my entrance.

I hold your hip with one hand as the other hand holds my cock firmly as I start to pull you onto me, watching intently as the tip of my cock starts to slide inside you. "OH MY GOD!" We moan in unison.

You pant and moan loudly, getting used to the sensation of our baby filling your birth canal whilst my cock inches deeper into your ass. I hold myself still inside, loving how you've taken my entire length.

"Fuckkkkk babe, I can feel you pushing, I can feel the baby moving against the wall of your vagina," I moan as my hips start to shift slowly outward but then back in. I follow your body's motions as you bear down for the first time with a deep gritted push.

You find it much harder to give birth now that your holes are full, I feel everything, making my cock throb hard inside you.

"Good girl give me another deep push, let's see if you can get the head to peek between your labia."

I look down intently watching the mirror looking for any signs of the head. Nothing. Just a heavily pregnant, panting woman trying her best to push.

"You'll just have to keep trying babe," I smile as my thrusts become a little faster and firmer, loving how much your tight asshole hugs my cock.

"Push on the next contraction babe," I wait. Your body tenses and your asshole twitches as your uterus spasms hard. "Ughhh push babe, now! Bear down nice and deep, oh yesssss good girl."

You give into your primal urge to give birth, swearing and groaning deep into the push. I look down and begin to see the dark sight of the baby's head prying your tight labia apart. I continue thrusting as I fuck you, losing my mind to the sensation of you pushing so hard.

"Oh my fucking god babe, if you keep doing that you're going to make me cum inside you by the time this baby fully crowns."

“Another?”

“Mmhmmmmph,” I groan, bracing myself on the rim of the tub as I bear down against the heavy mass shoving through the stretched tissue of my cervix. “God, it feels like it's right there.”

I recline on the bathroom floor, one hand wrapped around my knee to pull it up towards my chest as I lean against the cool porcelain of the tub. Riding out the tail end of a contraction, I curl over my taut, overdue belly, and grit my teeth as I strain, working to move the massive head into my birth canal. “fffffuck, there's so much pressureeee.” 

“You're doing so good, baby,” you assure me, leaning in to press a kiss to my sweaty forehead. “You're making so much progress.”

I simply moan, rolling my head to the side as I take several deep breaths. After nearly an hour of pushing, I'm halfway inclined to assume that the baby is simply never coming out, and equally as terrified by the notion that it will. That it is. The next contraction steadily begins to build, turning my belly into a white hot vice grip as it cramps down around my spasming womb. “It's comingggg!” I shriek, feeling my cervix finally stretch around the head.

“It is!” you exclaim, reaching between my spread thighs to cup your hands around my bulging sex. “Keep pushing, baby. You're really opening up.”

“The pressure!”

You gently shush me, quietly commanding me to look at you as you brush the pad of your index finger over the hard nub of my throbbing clit. “I've got you,” you coo. “Keep focusing on me. There you go. Thaaaaat's it.”

I pant the end of the push away before immediately bearing down into another one, staring up at you with widened eyes as my hips instinctively roll forward to meet your touch. “Ohhhhh. Oh, God.”

“Better?”

“Much,” I gasp. “But there's still—hnnng, still s-so much pressure. Ooooh.” 

"Use it, baby. Push for me. Let me worry about everything else.” You add a bit more pressure as you circle my clit, and my eyes flutter closed as I push down towards your touch, grinding my cunt against the palm of your hand. “You're getting so close.”

"Ohgodohgodoh—.” I cum with a choked off cry, and a significant portion of the pressure I'd been experiencing suddenly releases as my water breaks, fluid gushing out onto the floor between us. “Mmmm, there's the waters. It's coming! Holy fuck, its COMING.”

The lips of my slit begin to part, gaping open into a small ‘O’ as the head shoves its way down. My thighs shake and tremble violently as I push, throwing my head back with a shrill scream. “It's right thereeeee. Fuck, its gonna fall out of meee!”

“Breathe, baby,” you say sternly. “You need to slow down.”

I thrash my head from side to side in a steadfast, hard NO. “It BURNS.” My tissues are beginning to stretch, thin and red-hot to the touch. “Ohhh, get it out. Please get it out. The PRESSUREEEE.”

You press your fingertips into my clit, providing steady counter-pressure as the first glimpse of the baby's head begins to peak out from behind my slit. “I can see it,” you tell me, emotion shining in your voice. “You're doing such a good job, baby. Just keep using that pressure.”

My nails dig into the meat of my thigh as I pull it back, leaving crescent shaped marks embedded in the skin as I bear down hard. My other hand slips from the tub and flies down between my legs, guiding your fingers to a better spot on my clit as you hum approvingly. “Coming,” I mumble deliriously. “Coming. It's comin-oh, I'm gonna cum!”

And I do just that, pleasure washing over me from my head down to the tips of my toes. "Oh, God," I rasp, heaving to catch my breath. "It- ughhh- it's so low."

"I can see the top of the head." You beam as you press another kiss to my forehead, gently cradling my stretched out opening. "You're so close."

"But how close?" I ask, inhaling sharply as I gear up to push again.

You hesitate for a beat, eyeing the small, dime-sized patch of slimy wet hair visible between my parted lips and comparing it to the sheer mass of the head itself, bulging outwards from between my thighs. My outer labia are stretched from crease to crease, and my sex is swollen and inflamed. "Close," you finally say. "Ready to push again?"

I nod frantically as I bear down, a roar building up in my chest and throat. "Uuuuuurrrghhhhhh!" I push with every bit of my strength, skin burning bright red, and an unstoppable force (the pressure) meets a seemingly literal immovable object (the baby's head). "HHHHNNNNNGGGGGGG."

"Good! So good, baby."

"GET IT OUTTTT."

"It's coming out!"

"ffffFFFFUCKKKK!"

This was written by my collaborator @evertide05 (https://www.deviantart.com/evertide), who was also the main driving force behind creating Maya's character. Posted with permission and is to be considered canon for all purposes.

“Well, your weight and blood pressure look good for a six-week pregnancy.  How about we have a quick check of how things are going on the inside?” the doctor asks nicely, like she’s not the least bit bothered by the discomfort her patient is about to be in and, in fact, is eager to get started.

Maddie smiles a bit nervously as she lies back in bed, shimmying her panties down just enough to give the doctor access.

“I’m not going to be able to work very well like that, Maddie,” the doctor says as she pulls on a glove, the latex making a somewhat exaggerated snap into place as she lets it go.  “Come on, now.  Panties down, dress up, legs open.”

She mutters a shy, “Um...o-okay,” as she does as instructed: Dress up, then panties down to her ankle-high socks, and then legs spread.  She breathes a little harder as the doctor sits on her stool by the bed and rests a hand on her stomach, once again flat (at least, for a woman who had given birth to twins some time ago and a third baby just recently), and lightly chews her lip as the gloved hand, index and middle fingers extended, slides out of sight below her pubic mound.  This is the first of many such examinations she’ll be going through, which will be so much more involved than a simple gynecological exam, and she’d better be ready.

At least, that’s what the character she’s playing thinks, and Maddie can draw on plenty of her own experience to bring out that character.  Gotta make it look good for the camera, after all, which is indeed recording even if this is just for fun and to give her and Heather a little something to enjoy later.

“And here, we,” the doctor says before she slides in, making Maddie yelp.  She’s good at making pleasure sound like pain, and she’s extremely familiar with how well the two can go together.  “Go,” the doctor finishes, fingers deep inside her.  “Sorry, Maddie, I didn’t want you to tense up on me before I could get in.”

“Aah...y-yeah, doctor. It’s fine, I’m fine,” she whimpers as she breathes out through pursed lips and tries to relax as the doctor’s fingers flex a bit, making her visibly grip the bed sheets.

She’s not completely faking her pain: The doctor is deep in there, and she’s still recovering from the breech birth she went through not long ago, quite an ordeal even by the standards of childbirth.  There are no contractions crashing over her like waves in a storm-tossed sea, but these two fingers might be all she can handle.  Even pleasuring herself, in the rare instances she has the time, can get uncomfortable.

If it weren’t for Heather being there to keep lending a hand with her twin boys and newborn daughter, she wouldn’t even have that time.  Her friend has always been there to lend a hand.  Like right now, for instance, with a hand knuckle-deep in her vagina.

Speaking of which, she hasn’t revealed her secret camgirling to Heather yet, but she’s been thinking about it.  She’s also thought about asking her to join in; she polled her subscribers to see if they’d want to see her with another woman, and the response was a definite “Yes.”  This video would be a great way to introduce Heather to her fans, if she agrees to share it.  Even if Heather’s not comfortable sharing their intimate fun online, it would be a load off her mind if Heather knew what Maddie was up to and was okay with it.  One less secret to hide.

She kind of wishes she weren’t already so warm and wet, so any tension in her vagina could be real, not faked.

Heather’s doing a great job of staying in character while playing it up for the camera.  She’s staying calm but firm and keeping a polite smile on her face, though they know the doctor’s not being polite because she has to.  “Okay, everything’s feeling good in there.  Just need a sec to make sure,” she says as she pokes around, making Maddie squirm a little but force herself to remain as still as possible.

Like a good girl.

“So, while we’re taking care of this, any big changes to your health you want to talk about?” Heather asks calmly.

Taking a deep breath, Maddie looks up at the doctor and says, “Not really, doctor.  The morning sickness isn’t so bad, that’s what I was most afra-a-aid of,” she stutters out as Heather rubs a sore spot absolutely on purpose from memorizing where they are by now.  “My breasts are still kinda tender and feel...fuller.”  She’s also not lying about that, considering she’s nursing a newborn and is feeling a little full right now.

“Well, great!  Sounds like you’re doing great for six weeks!” Heather says cheerfully.

“Yeah.  In fact, I’m actually...more than great...” she trails off nervously, looking away.  The doctor’s questioning hum makes her glance around self-consciously.  “Ummm...nothing I say leaves this office, right?”

Heather smiles at her as she eases her fingers out but leaves her hand nearby.  “Of course, Maddie.  A lot’s going on with your body during your pregnancy, and I want you to trust me completely with it.”  Whether she means “trust me with your problems” or “trust me with your body” or both, the honeyed words go well with her sticky fingers.

After a soft giggle, Maddie says, “I’ve been really...needy, lately.  Like, y’know,” she nods down towards her privates, “that kind of needy.  I always figured, when you’re pregnant, your sex drive goes, ‘Okay, we made a baby, no need to think about sex for nine months!’  But not me.”  She squirms a bit on the bed, her toes curling in her socks.  “Before, I’d usually get myself off once a day before bed, maybe twice if I found something really arousing.  Now?  Three times a day...and that’s the opening bid.”

Her “doctor” laughs softly.  “Oh my!  That’s certainly a complication that I wouldn’t call a problem!” she says.

Maddie giggles again.  “It sure beats the first trimester blues I hear people talking so much about!” she agrees.  “But, um...the thing is, it really is kind of a hassle.  I have been, y’know, getting off faster, but I can’t control when I’m in the mood.  If I’m at home alone, it’s great.  But when I’m out, or I’m meeting up with someone, or driving around, or something like that, and suddenly I get the itch and I can’t scratch it, I can be in kind of a pickle.  Kind of hard to think about getting anything else done that needs getting done, you know what I mean?”

“Sure, Maddie.  It’s totally normal for your sex drive to get crazy.  Some women don’t even want to be touched until way after that baby’s out of them.  With others...you’d think they were already trying to make another,” she remarks, getting both to laugh.  “It should swing the other way and level out eventually...more or less...probably, but until then...hmmm, I can’t really prescribe any kind of medication for that.  Not something that’s proven safe during pregnancy, anyway.”

“Mmm,” Maddie grumbles cutely.  “You’re sure there’s nothing you can do for me?  Being horny all the time is kind of a pain when you’re single, you know.  I can only do so much for myself.”

Heather lowers her eyelids as her smile becomes more of a grin.  “As long as you remember...” she trails off before her fingertips brush against Maddie’s privates, trailing a slow circle around her inner thighs, “nothing leaves this office,” she finishes in a husky tone.

She quivers at Heather’s touch, her toes curling.  Again, she’s not totally hamming it up for the camera.  Heather knows what she likes and how she likes it.  Maddie isn’t pregnant, but her arousal is anything but faked.

Nor is the hiss of mixed pleasure and discomfort when Heather slides her fingers back in.

“Hmhmhm, just what the doctor ordered, huh?” she teases as she wriggles her fingers a bit.  Maddie’s hips lift a little, but Heather presses her other hand on Maddie’s stomach.  “Uh uh, if I’m gonna take care of you, you gotta do what I say,” she reminds Maddie.

“Okay...s-sorry, doctor,” she whimpers as she submits to Heather’s touch.

“If you’re going to be dealing with these...hormone swings,” Heather says as she starts slowly pumping her fingers in and out, making Maddie breathe harder, “maybe you can get a head start on getting ready for your delivery.  Have you thought about how you wanna do that?”

Of course, Maddie has: Her births have barely left her thoughts every time she’s gotten any action ever since her first birth, whether she’s been with someone at the time or not, and she’s still feeling the aftershocks of her daughter’s birth with the background soreness as her lover pleasures her.  Through her deep breaths, she gasps out, “Uh huh.  I...mmf...I was gonna try for a...natural birth.”

Ugh, just the phrase “natural birth” was already arousing after her first birth, now the dial’s gone up to 11.

“Yeah, I had a feeling.  That’s what I hear a lot of moms say, especially first-timers,” Heather agrees.  “I can give you some classes to attend, but what I want to cover here and now are some exercises.”  She lowers her voice a little, still sounding professional but letting some lust creep in.  “Like...perineal massage,” she goes on, adding a little more speed and force in her thrusts to emphasize it.

“Mmf!  L-Like...practicing ssstretching my...lips?” Maddie huffs out.

“Mm hm.  Specifically, down here,” Heather notes, sliding the tips of her ring and little fingers along her lover’s perineum.  “This is going to be under a lot of strain when your baby’s coming out.”

Doesn’t she know it.  This is making her tremble as the memories of how much she went through (and what went through her, physically and mentally) come flooding back.  She’s gotten a lot of use out of that video Heather took while she was delivering her daughter, and she can’t wait until she’s healed enough to go all-out on herself again.

 “Or how about doing Kegels?  You know, flexing your muscles to toughen them up?  Like lifting weights, only with your vaginal muscles,” she asks.

Maddie’s about to answer, but her back arches in surprise and, also to her surprise, pain as Heather slides a third finger into her.  She’s definitely not healed enough for that to be comfortable.

“Oh, Maddie, if this is too much for you, you’re going to have a rough time in labor,” she murmurs, leaving her third finger in as she keeps fingering Maddie.  “C’mon, gimme a flex.  Squeeze like you’re trying to hold in a bathroom break.”

“Sss, mmf, what...” Maddie pants, trying to stay in character and not call Heather by name.

She yelps as Heather curls her fingers a bit.  Her lover knows her well, but she’s walking a tightrope.

The grin on Heather’s face widens.  “Birth isn’t going to be any gentler.  Just one flex.  Be a good girl for me,” she purrs.

Through her clouding thoughts, Maddie gets enough control back to do as Heather says and tenses her muscles, which makes her whimper as the still-sore tissues contract over the increasingly rough intrusions.

“Good!  I felt that,” Heather praises her, still not withdrawing the extra digit or even uncurling her fingers.  “Do some sets of those a few times a day, and you’ll be glad you did later.  I’ve even heard of moms orgasming when they do it!”

Maddie would like to agree, but she’s building up to one, herself.  More accurately, it’s not an orgasm: Orgasms were supposed to be overloads of pleasure, not pain.  But ever since her first birth, she’s discovered something about herself.

She doesn’t just have orgasms.  When things are just right, she has...something else.

And while this doesn’t compare to childbirth, between Heahter’s fingers fucking her and the growing blur of pleasure and pain they’re causing, she’s building up to it.  Not as high, not as hard, not as intense, but it’s gonna be more than an orgasm.

Heather reads her moans for what they are and gives her a lustful growl as she speeds up again.  “Attagirl, Maddie.  You’re gonna do great giving birth.”

What’s Heather doing?  Since adding that third finger, she’s been going totally off script!  Not that they have word-for-word scripts to follow, and they’re just having some fun for now, but between her boys, her daughter, and med school, Maddie does not have a lot of time for herself so she has to make the most of it, whether or not she ends up sharing this video.  And Heather knows this very well!

If it weren’t working so well, Maddie would have already stopped her and asked what she was doing.

“Just take a second and think about it,” Heather encourages her.  “Do some visualizing when you’re getting ready for birth.”

Breathing heavily, she goes along with it.  Even if she doesn’t use this as a camgirl video, she’ll be watching this again later.  Her eyes flutter closed as she remembers what it felt like to give birth.  When all that crashing pressure hammering at her cervix suddenly turned into an irresistible command to force it through.

“Think about your baby moving through your body.  Through your hips,” Heather muses, her fingertips reaching all the way back with her thrusts now to just barely brush against Maddie’s cervix.

It’s increasingly uncomfortable as well as pleasurable in that way Maddie once felt like is “supposed” to be wrong.  This still isn’t even close to the real thing, but a combination of memories, videos, and her very active imagination is firing up her pain and pleasure centers again.  The fact that it’s someone else doing this to her, not her doing this to herself, is helping.

“Imagine it inching down, down, down through you.  Squeezing through that tight space.”  She rubs her fingers in circles along Maddie’s vaginal walls.

Maddie knows just how tight it can get in there.  She’s had a baby come through her headfirst, followed by a doctor’s whole hand reaching up in there to turn that baby’s twin, and long after that, a massively difficult breech.

And she’s very familiar with fantasizing during labor, as familiar as she is with fantasizing about labor.  She remembers how she thought back on getting fucked so hard it’s no wonder her first pregnancy was with twins even as her uterus, overcharged on Pitocin, was straining to get them out.  Knowing exactly what she wanted, she put on the show of a lifetime during her second birth, with herself as both the star and the audience.

Her whimpers and moans mix as her hips reflexively jerk to meet Heather’s thrusts, as if her body as well as her mind is wired to welcome the mix of pain and pleasure that she’s not in total control over.  Through her closed eyes, she feels Heather press down a little harder on her stomach as her fingers keep up their assault.

“And then...”

Her voice lingers for only a second before all four of her fingers are pushed inside Maddie, with her thumb the only remaining digit not inside and instead rubbing around her clitoris.  It makes Maddie let out a sharp cry as the pain starts overtaking the pleasure.

“Crowning.”

This doesn’t compare to crowning either, but holy fuck this is starting to hurt, and only sort of in the fun way.

Maddie remembers when she pleasured herself (if it could be called such a thing) while recovering after her twins were born just hours ago.  She was taking a little risk at crossing the line from causing herself pain to causing herself real harm, especially in the body part she loved the most, but when birth had shown her that her body was capable of such impossible heights of pain and pleasure and let her see a side of herself for who she really was, she had to explore it while she had the chance.

She’s had more time now to recover from her breech delivery, but it put her vagina through even more than the twins did.

Her overstretched, sore tissues are still releasing the feel-good hormones even as the pain grows from aching to burning, but the safety word is threatening to escape her.  She doesn’t want Heather to fully stop, she can feel a much-needed release building, but she needs Heather to ease up.

Her eyes squeeze shut and her head rocks from side to side while she tries to resist giving Heather the signal.  Even now, it reminds her of the times when she was giving birth and begging for an epidural, for the doctor to help, for it to stop despite knowing there was no escape and, more importantly, no mercy.  But as high as her body is climbing, she’s losing the battle against the pain again.

She barely notices as Heather’s hand leaves her stomach and slides behind her head.  Whatever Heather’s doing, Maddie doesn’t want her to stop, but she has to slow down before she hurts her.  She takes one more deep breath to stave off saying the safety word...and is, just for a second, silenced by Heather’s sensual, yet authoritative, whisper in her ear:

“Push.”

Her eyes pop open as she looks at Heather in shock.  Her thoughts were already a fog, and now confusion has been added to the mix of what she’s feeling.  Why would Heather-

“Come on, Maddie,” she says, lifting Maddie’s head off the pillow and encouraging her to sit up, her fingers thrusting hard, fast, and deep, “pull those legs back and push.”

Holy shit.  Heather would only say that if...

She can think about that later, she needs this now.

Giving in to the fantasy, she lets the memories of her births take center stage in her imagination as she reaches down, grips the bottoms of her thighs, pulls them back, and curls forward, bearing down on a pressure that isn’t there but she’ll never forget that feeling.  Her teeth clench and a low growl rumbles in her throat as she imagines Heather’s fingers spreading her wider.

She doesn’t have to imagine for long, as that’s what Heather does to her opening, making her scream.

“Attagirl!  Don’t let that baby go back up!  Push into that burn!” Heather encourages her, her thumb leaving Maddie’s clit and taking away what pleasure Maddie was getting.

The idea of “burning” is very appropriate to what happened to Maddie when she was giving birth.  Pain and pleasure were under so much heat and pressure that some of the wires in her head and her body welded together and, while the two parts were still distinct, they became something new.  Heather’s fingers aren’t nearly the same as a baby moving through her, but this is the closest she’s come to reliving the experience.

Just like then, she’s breaking into a sweat, struggling to focus, and grasping at the release she knows is there.  The release from the agony and the release from the sexual tension that can’t be put into words, that she can only get by pushing herself out of it.

By...just...pushing.

A tear leaks out of one clamped-shut eye as she gasps in a few shuddering breaths before pushing again, her jaw unclenching and her growl turning into a roar.  She can do this!  She can get what she wants!  She just has to feed that fire!

Her roar becomes a scream again as Heather stretches her opening wider.  It almost feels like she’s getting ready to shove her whole fist in there, the very thought of which makes her heart flutter.  But it’s enough to make her shriek, “I can’t do it!  Pull it out, pull it out!”

Heather’s voice pulls her back from the brink again as she speaks louder over Maddie’s cries, but keeps a steady tone, “Maddie, you’re at full crown, one more big push and we’ll have a head.  Come on, go for it!”

That gets Maddie to curl even further forward, feeling like every muscle in her body is straining.  She’s coming close to her breaking point, both from the release threatening to flood her and the risk that Heather is going to stretch her too far.  And she can’t stop now: If something’s going to give, she welcomes it, and as she feels that wave starting to crest, her voice rises to match.

She gets her wish when Heather’s thumb returns to her clit at just the right time, and that’s the spark that sets off an explosion.

Her voice hits that sweet spot of blending the most burning scream and the most thrilled squeal.  The true heights of both can only be reached by giving birth, but this is overloading her just the same.  Her vaginal muscles tremble and burn with phantom sensations of stretching around a nonexistent baby.  Her fingers grip her thighs so hard she might leave bruises before they leave her legs and reach up to roughly squeeze her breasts.  Her head falls back as she stays sitting up, making her a simultaneously rigid and floppy S-shape.

And her head...well, those welded-together pain and pleasure centers are turning everything else into a blur.  She hears Heather coaching her on what a good mama she’s being and saying something about the head being out; she can’t quite make out the words, but they keep fanning the flames that have filled her.

It soon dies down, and Maddie’s left gasping and sweaty as she lies back.  Heather relaxes her fingers, letting her opening ease closed, before removing them.  Maddie’s aftershock moans mix with her breaths.  She can feel dampness on her chest; she always leaks when she cums if she hasn’t pumped or nursed beforehand, and such a powerful rush along with her hands gripping her breasts have definitely soaked this dress.

Once the stars stop swirling around her head, she opens her eyes to see Heather sitting by the bed, smiling at her.  Not a knowing grin, just a satisfied smile.  They regard each other quietly before she gets up and goes to turn off the camera before returning to the bedside and calmly addressing Maddie, not as the doctor, but in her normal voice.

“I know.”

Just as she thought.  It’s way too late to feel shame or be called out, not that she has any reason to think Heather disapproves, but she feels self-conscious anyway that her secret’s out.  She slows her breathing as she sits up and asks, “When?”

“I suspected for a while.  You loved being pregnant.  Like...not just in the happy-glowy way.  But every time you’d talk about when you had the twins, you talked about it with such passion, such detail, such,” she gives a single wiggle of her eyebrows, “longing.  You couldn’t wait to do it again, and you wanted me to make sure you got what you wanted.”  She leans in a little.  “When you were in labor, I could hear the difference between your voice when you moaned and cried out with the contractions, but...Maddie, how many times did we go at it when you were pregnant?  I heard those sounds so many times, it’s impossible not to notice how similar they are.”

Maddie lets out a little “heh” as she wipes the sweat off her forehead.  “It was really that obvious?”

Heather chuckles back and goes on, “Heh, I had suspicions way before you went into labor, especially when you wanted me to be there with you.  Seeing you laboring didn’t do anything to disprove me, especially when you suddenly wanted me to start recording you and I could tell some part of you loved every minute on camera, the more painful, the better.”  She lifts her fingers, still slick with Maddie’s juices, and separates them to tantalizingly show the stickiness still covering them, making Maddie feel warmer all over again.  “Then you came when the doctor examined you...and I don’t know if you fooled him, but no way in fuck hell did that fool me.  That was when I knew what you were really doing and why.”

She can practically feel a little crackle of sexual energy in her privates from that memory, even after she just came.  “So, there’s no way I can pretend I didn’t cum again when my daughter was halfway out of me, is there?” she asks, wanting to see how Heather will react to this.  Cumming when having fingers in her vagina is one thing she might explain away, even if it was in the middle of labor.  But cumming when she was in the middle of giving birth?  To something as tough as a breech baby, no less?  That was pretty extreme.

Her lover is quiet for a bit, making Maddie stew in anticipation of what she might say.  If Heather knew what Maddie was really going through, she was nothing but supportive at the time, and if she’s ever felt any disapproval, she’s never shown a bit of it.  Then again, it’s dawning on Maddie that she isn’t as good at reading Heather as the other way around.

“I gotta admit, Maddie...I’ve only ever heard of childbirth as the most painful thing a woman can go through, as wonderful as it is.  I’ve heard the stories, I’ve seen the videos, I didn’t need convincing even before you wanted me as your supporter, and then as your camerawoman,” she says, shifting a little in her seat.  “I’d think about that and go, ‘There’s no prospects of that now, but holy shit, that could be me someday.’”

Maddie manages to resist the urge to say she’s fantasized about that from time to time.

“It’s...a lot to wrap my head around.  I would never’ve considered it was possible if it wasn’t for you.  Even with the biggest masochists, it’s just...how?”  She cocks her head a little at her lover, smiling curiously.  “I don’t even think of you as much of a masochist, and we fuck plenty.”

She lightly bites her lip as she tries to think.  Still a little lost in the buzz of such a great cum, she’s not really sure how to explain it.  In fact, she’s not really sure she wants to.  Some things are just too much to be put into words; they can only be experienced.  But holy fuck, if she can even get Heather curious about it, she’s more than willing to play the long game and feed that curiosity until Heather wants in.

And if she can’t have that, she at least wants Heather to accept her.

“It’s...like...” she starts uncertainly.  “Y’know what?  I never would have thought it either.  My first birth, I did it by accident.”

Heather snickers, “Heh.  Now you’re pulling my leg.”

“No, really.”

“...Really?”

“Yeah.  I was comparing labor to sex to cope with it.  It worked...sort of.  I cracked and wanted an epidural after a while...and I’m really, really glad I didn’t get one,” she lets out a lustful sigh, “because then when I was giving birth, it was as painful as they say it is...but then something happened that they don’t say.”  She smiles at Heather.  “The doctor reached up in there, and ‘painful’ doesn’t begin to describe it, but somehow, impossibly...I came.  I came harder than I’d ever cum before or than I’d ever cum since until the second time I was giving birth.  And I don’t know if it changed me or if it woke something up in me, but I was never the same.”

Heather doesn’t say anything.  She’s looking at Maddie thoughtfully.  Whether she’s curious, that’s questionable, but Maddie’s definitely given her something to think about.  She must have been planning this ever since the birth, Maddie figures.

“I’ll...think about it,” she concedes, making Maddie smile wider.  “It’s still waaay out there.  But...and maybe it’s because it was specifically you...when you were pushing her out and somehow, impossibly, I saw you cum?”  She licks her lips and huffs sultrily.  “Ugh...if my hands had been free and I could have gotten away with it...you wouldn’t have been the only one.”

Now that’s a step in a direction Maddie was hoping to hear.  “Then I got two things to say to that.  One: Those videos you took of me?  They’re all yours to enjoy if you want the real thing, and for you, I’d love to explore it with you, anytime and any way you like, whether I’m the mom or the doctor,” she says with a wink.  “Two: Maybe I couldn’t fool you, but you know how much of an expert I can be at sneaking in some relief.  I can give you some pointers there too.”

They share a laugh as Heather nods.  “Like I said, I’ll think about it.  But here’s something for you to think about, something else that’s been on my mind for a while.”

Maddie raises an eyebrow, looking forward to what else Heather might pleasantly surprise her with.

“Have you thought about us being a more committed thing?”

That is, indeed, a surprise.  “Huh?  We’re...not?  I don’t just mean that it’s been a while since I’ve seen anyone else.  You help out a ton with my kids, and it’s not like I let just anyone do that.  I couldn’t still be going to school if it wasn’t for you.  Hell, you’ve moved in with me, even.”

“Yeah, and that’s what I mean.  We’re besties, we’re girlfriends, we’re lovers and all that, and I love it all.  You even wanted me to be your labor support and camerawoman.  You really trust me with a lot,” she says.  “But what I mean is, where do you see this going long-term?  Or where do you want this to go long-term?  Would you want to keep doing what we’re doing, or would you...” she trails off, looking a bit nervous for the first time since this started, before she finds the words, “lemme put it this way.  Less ‘my kids,’ more ‘our kids?’  Or at least ‘the kids?’”

And again, Maddie’s a bit at a loss for words, though at least this time it’s both of them in that situation.  She wasn’t exactly ready to be talked to about her labor and birth kink, but it wasn’t hard to talk about, especially with Heather.  This is kind of different, though.

She manages to ask, “Are you...asking if I’d...y’know?”

“No, I don’t know.  We’re having this talk to clear the air, just say it.”

“Marry you?”  Maddie feels a little flutter in her heart as she asks.

Fortunately, Heather looks a little flustered, herself, fidgeting and looking like she’s resisting the urge to glance away.  “Or commit to being Mom and Mom, not Mom and Auntie Heather, if you get what I mean.  If you’re up for making it a lifelong thing but aren’t sure about marriage.”  She must pick up that Maddie doesn’t know yet, so she says, “I don’t need an answer right now!  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I wanna jump into...getting married tomorrow or something!  I just, y’know, wanted to say that if you wanna get super serious...I do, too,” with a flustered smile.

She’s right; Maddie’s got to think about that.  On the one hand, with her still in school and having young twins and a baby, she has a ton on her plate and Heather’s already been patient with her time constraints.  She doesn’t need to test Heather’s patience further by saying she wants a serious relationship and then not having time for it.  On the other hand, having Heather to not just spend time with but to specifically come home to, that has some definite appeal, and she’s never said that about anyone else.

Besides...

As much as Maddie’s looking forward to finishing her schooling and being the one enjoying the labors and births of other women, Heather’s a special case.  She’s privy to Maddie’s most intimate secrets, things that even her fans from the camgirl website might suspect but don’t know for sure.  Heather might actually want to be a part of her wildest fantasies.

And, if Maddie gets her way, someday Heather will experience what she was talking about for herself, and she’ll be there for every bit of it.

“I...don’t think...it’s the best time for that now with how life’s going,” she says, stumbling a bit over the words as she tries to be honest without letting Heather down, “but if you can wait for me to finish med school and see what life’s like when everything’s fully in place?  We’ll see what happens in the meantime.”

Thankfully, she answers with a relieved sigh and, “I can do that,” before she gets off the chair to lean closer.

They smile at each other before they share a kiss.  Quiet but lustful hums mix as Maddie enjoys the good feelings that come with their newly strengthened connection.  It’s not exactly a new feeling, but it’s one she doesn’t get very often.  She thinks she could do with feeling it more.  A lot more.

At least, when the time comes.

When Heather pulls back, she steps away from the bed.  “Now, one last thing.”

Maddie wonders what else Heather could possibly want to talk about, but first, she goes to get the plastic bag that she set aside when they came into the bedroom.  She had already assumed it contained some surprise Heather wanted to try out when the first part of their kinky fun was over, and now she’s eager to see if she was right.

“Now that we’ve told each other some secrets and I know we both like what we hear...a lot...” she murmurs, opening the bag, “let’s explore this whole...birth kink some more.”

With that, she pulls out something that makes Maddie’s horny hormones flow again at the sight of it.  One part of it has a hand pump, pressure gauge, and pressure release valve like she’d see on a hand-operated blood pressure cuff, including an air tube that connects it to its other part.

But that’s where the similarities end.  Instead of a cuff, it connects to something about the size and shape of a lamp-sized light bulb, and she already knows what it’s for.

Heather grins widely, her bedroom eyes making it clear she knows exactly why Maddie would recognize this.  “Yeah.  You know what’s up,” she says as she steps back over.

“Fuck yeah, I do.  That,” she points at the bulb, “goes in, it gets pumped up, and then you let it stretch you out to get ready for...birth,” she takes a deep breath to steady herself, “or...you’re not supposed to do this, but...you push it out.”

“Mmm hmmm,” she hums, her cheeks a little pink.  “We got another hour before the kids have to be picked up, and I got a good feeling one of us isn’t gonna be walking right when that hour’s done, so it’s not gonna be whoever takes this for a test drive.”  She leans in and kisses Maddie again.  “I’ll coinflip you for who gets to break this bad girl in.”

“Heather,” Maddie pants, “you are the fucking best.”

This day just keeps getting better, and it’s not stopping here.

"My coochie hurts so bad! Did I rip?!"

"My clitoris, oh God, my clitoris!"

"Oh God I'm crowning!"

"My asshole is burning!"

"Please pull him out!"

(moaning) "Oh, it hurts."

"Can this contraction be over now?"

"It won't stop!"

"Stop kicking me!"

"Get your fingers out of me!"

"Oh, I'm having one. I'm - yeah." (begins groaning)

"Will it hurt?" (at a vacuum cup for assisted delivery)

“I can’t push anymore.” “pull it out! Pull it out!” “I want it out!” “My clitoris hurts!” “is the head out yet?” (She hasn’t even started opening)

“can u see her head yet?” “I’m still stretching.” “I don’t want that in me.” (Referring to a forcep delivery)

“plz make it stop going back in.”

“I don’t wanna push anymore.” “I can’t do it.” (With the head literally crowning)

Why hello, Bunnies! 👋🏻🐰🥰 I am back with a mid-week drop and it's a commissioned story courtesy of my wonderful Vault member, @zenw2q — this one’s all theirs. Huge thanks for the killer concept (literally), and I hope you’re as obsessed with this stream-gone-feral as I was writing it. 💦👶📸

And if you're wanting to have a story custom written for you, my commissions are open! Check out details on this page 😍

Word Count: 3,691 words

Summary: Two heavily pregnant streamers face off live, trying to outlast each other through self-induced labor. Author’s Notes/Warnings: MDNI. 18+ only. Contains extremely explicit content involving pregnancy kink, labor, childbirth, lactation, twin delivery, orgasmic birth, clitoral stimulation, public exposure, streaming/voyeurism, squatting/jumping-induced labor, competitive birth, breastfeeding after birth (non-sexual), overstretching, vibrator use, placenta delivery, messy gushes and intense vocalization throughout. Full crowning and detailed expulsions included. All participants are adults, and all content is consensual.

Finally, a new story for the blog. One of my backlog that needed editing. First I have to acknowledge @allkindsofpreg for her usual contributions to my works, and I want to introduce @highlyrelevantnumber as well who has helped with editing this last piece. Many thanks to both of you, I would certainly not be anywhere near productive without you both! However, on with the story...

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"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to today's episode of "Lifestyles", the officially recorded highest rated show on air covering current affairs and entertainment. I'm your host, Gabby Sinclair, and today I'm joined by our special guest - celebrated author of the wonderful series of books entitled "Motherhood" Jessica Shallows."