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!"

The contraction ripped through Rayna's lower back like a blade being twisted, and she gripped the edge of the bathtub so hard her knuckles went white. She was twenty five years old, completely alone, and her daughter was coming. There was no midwife pounding on the door. No mother to hold her hand. No partner to tell her she was doing a good job. Just the steam rising from the too hot water and the sound of her own ragged breathing echoing off the bathroom tiles.

She had been laboring in the tub for what felt like days. Maybe it had been twelve hours. Maybe fourteen. She had stopped checking her phone after the third hour of active labor, when the contractions started coming every two minutes and she could no longer see straight through the pain. The water had gone from scalding to tepid to cold, and she had refilled it twice with the hottest water the old water heater could manage. Now it was cooling again, and she did not have the strength to reach for the faucet.

Rayna leaned her head back against the inflatable pillow she had wedged behind her neck and let out a low moan that built into a scream as another wave crashed through her. Her belly was enormous, stretched tight as a drum, and she could feel the baby moving down with each contraction. The pressure in her pelvis was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It was not the pressure of needing to use the bathroom. It was the pressure of a human skull forcing its way through bones that were not supposed to separate.

She had planned for a home birth. She had saved money for a midwife. But the midwife had canceled two days ago when a flu swept through her other clients, and Rayna had been too stubborn and too broke to go to the hospital. She had no insurance. She had no family nearby. She had moved to this small town six months ago to escape an ex who had made her life a living nightmare, and she had not made a single friend in that time. So when the contractions started at three in the morning, she had simply filled the tub and gotten in.

Now it was nearly noon. The sun was streaming through the bathroom window, and Rayna was shaking.

She felt the urge to push. It came on suddenly, overwhelmingly, like her body was being taken over by something primal and unstoppable. Her diaphragm seized, and her abdominal muscles clenched of their own accord, and she bore down before she could even think about it. A guttural sound tore from her throat, something between a grunt and a roar, and she felt the baby drop.

But she was in the tub. The water was cloudy with sweat and a little blood, and she knew she could not deliver in here. Not safely. Everything she had read said that birthing in water without a trained attendant was dangerous. She had no Doppler to check the baby's heart rate. No one to pull the baby to the surface quickly if something went wrong. So between contractions, Rayna hauled herself out of the tub, water streaming down her legs, and crawled on hands and knees across the bathroom floor.

The living room was fifteen feet away. It took her ten minutes to get there.

She had prepared a space days ago, just in case. A thick pile of old blankets and towels on the floor, a stack of clean sheets nearby, a bowl of water and a pack of newborn diapers within reach. She had even bought a pair of medical scissors to cut the cord, though the thought of doing that herself made her stomach turn. She collapsed onto the blankets, her soaked nightgown clinging to her body, and immediately rolled onto her back. It was not a position she had wanted. Every birth class she had watched online said to squat, to get on all fours, to let gravity help. But her legs were trembling so badly she could not hold herself up, and the only way she could find any leverage at all was to lie flat and pull.

The next contraction came, and Rayna grabbed the backs of her thighs and yanked her knees toward her chest. Her belly was so huge that she could barely see past it, but she pulled her legs back as far as they would go, until her knees were almost touching her ears, until her calves were parallel to the floor and her feet were in the air. She tucked her chin to her chest and pushed.

And she screamed. A long, piercing, sustained scream that started in her gut and tore out through her throat. She screamed with every fiber of her being as she pushed, her face turning purple, veins bulging in her neck. The scream did not stop when the contraction faded. It only dropped in pitch, becoming a raw, sobbing wail as she collapsed back onto the blankets, gasping and crying.

She reached down between her legs. Her fingers touched something slick and foreign. The baby's head. It was right there, just inside her, but it would not come out. She could feel the hard curve of the skull, the soft spot pulsing, and she started to sob.

"You have to come out," she whispered to her daughter. "Please. Please come out."

Another contraction. Another push. This time she screamed before she even started bearing down, a high pitched keen that built into a full throated roar as she pulled her legs back so hard that her hamstrings screamed in protest. She bore down like she was trying to push a boulder up a mountain, and the scream never stopped. It was a continuous, ragged, desperate sound that filled the living room and bounced off the walls. The head moved. She felt it stretch her perineum to a point that she was sure would split her in half. And then it stopped. The contraction ended, and the head slipped back inside, but Rayna kept screaming for several seconds afterward, her body shaking with the effort.

She had been pushing for an hour. Maybe two. She had lost track of time completely. The sun had shifted across the living room floor, and her shadow had stretched and shrunk and stretched again. She was covered in sweat and amniotic fluid and streaks of blood. Her arms were shaking so badly from holding her legs back that she could barely keep them in position. Her thighs had cramped and released and cramped again. Her lower back felt like it was on fire. And through it all, she screamed. Every push brought a scream. Every strain brought a scream. Sometimes she screamed even between contractions, when the memory of the pain was still fresh enough to draw the sound out of her.

She looked around the room wildly, her eyes landing on a folded blanket on the edge of the couch. She lunged for it, dragging it toward her with a desperate cry. She had an idea. It was a stupid idea, a dangerous idea, but she was out of options. She wrapped the blanket around her legs just above the knees, crossing the ends over each other, and then she threaded the loose ends under her head and pulled. The blanket acted like a makeshift strap, holding her legs in that hyperflexed position without her having to use her arms. She pulled the ends tight and tucked them under her shoulders, and just like that, her knees were pinned almost to her ears and she did not have to hold them there herself.

It was not comfortable. It was not even close to comfortable. But it freed her hands, and she needed her hands for what came next.

The pushing went on. And on. And on.

The clock on the wall said she had started pushing at 11:47 in the morning. The sun was high and bright when she first felt the urge. Now the light was slanting through the blinds at a sharp angle. It was past one o'clock. Then past one thirty. Then approaching two.

Each contraction brought the same ritual. Rayna would feel the pressure build low in her pelvis, a deep, bone crushing weight that made her moan before the peak even hit. She would brace her hands on her knees, pushing them even farther back against the blanket strap, and she would bear down. And she would scream. She screamed until her face turned purple. She screamed until her eyes bulged. She screamed until she could feel the blood vessels bursting in her cheeks and forehead, leaving tiny red pinpricks that would later look like a rash. She screamed until her rectum bulged outward and her entire pelvic floor felt like it was being turned inside out. The scream was constant during each push, a single unbroken note of agony that only stopped when she ran out of air and had to take a gasping breath before the next push began.

And the head would move. Just a little. Just a fraction of an inch. She could feel it descending through the birth canal, scraping against her sacrum, rotating to fit through the narrow space. Each push would bring the skull a little lower, a little closer to the outside world. And each push came with that same scream, that same raw, desperate wail. But then the contraction would fade, and the head would slip back. Not all the way. Never all the way back to where it started. But back enough that each new push had to cover the same ground again, and each new push brought the same scream.

By the second hour of pushing, Rayna was delirious with exhaustion. Her body was trembling uncontrollably, a fine tremor that started in her legs and spread to her abdomen and her arms. She had vomited twice from the pain, thick bile that she barely had the strength to wipe from her chin. She had bitten through her lower lip, and blood mixed with sweat on her face. The blanket strap around her legs had soaked through with sweat and amniotic fluid, but it held. And still she screamed. Her voice was growing hoarse, cracking at the edges, but she could not stop. Every push demanded a scream. Every strain demanded a scream. Her throat was raw, her vocal cords were shredded, but the sound kept coming.

She pushed. The head advanced. She screamed. It retreated. She screamed again. She pushed again. The head advanced a little more. She screamed louder. It retreated a little less. Inch by agonizing inch, over the course of what felt like a hundred contractions, the skull worked its way down. Rayna could feel the shape of it now, the hard curve of the crown, the slight give of the fontanelles. She could feel her own bones shifting, her pubic symphysis aching as it stretched, her coccyx bending backward at an angle it was never meant to achieve. And with every push, every shift, every millimeter of progress, she screamed.

At two fifteen in the afternoon, two hours and twenty eight minutes after she started pushing, Rayna felt something change. The head was low. So low that she could feel it bulging against her perineum even between contractions. The skin there was stretched tight, shiny, hot to the touch. She reached down with shaking fingers and felt the hard curve of the skull just inside her opening. It was not retreating anymore. It was right there, crowning, and it was not going back in.

The next contraction hit like a freight train. Rayna screamed, a raw, ragged sound that tore out of her throat, and she pushed. She pushed with a force that made her vision go white. She pushed until her abdominal muscles cramped into hard knots. She pushed until she felt the head stretch her perineum to its absolute limit, until the skin began to thin and flatten and turn translucent. And she screamed through all of it, a continuous, piercing shriek that did not waver.

The head advanced. The widest part of the skull reached her vaginal opening, and the ring of fire began.

It was not a ring. It was a circle of pure, liquid agony. Rayna felt every nerve ending in her perineum ignite at once. The burning was so intense that she could not tell where the pain started and ended. It was the feeling of being split open from the inside. It was the feeling of skin stretching beyond its capacity, of tissue being pulled thinner than it was ever designed to go. She felt her labia stretch sideways, felt her urethra compress, felt the pressure on her rectum become unbearable. And she screamed. She screamed so loud that the windows rattled. She screamed so loud that her ears rang.

She pushed again. The head moved another millimeter. The burning intensified. She could feel her skin starting to tear at the edges, tiny micro tears that stung like paper cuts made of fire. But the head was still not out. The widest part was lodged against her opening, and every push only made the stretching more extreme. Rayna kept screaming. Her voice was a constant, unbroken wall of sound now, rising and falling with each push but never fully stopping.

She pushed again. The head advanced. The burning became a tearing sensation, a deep, structural failure that she felt in her core. Her perineum was giving way. She could feel it happening, could feel the skin separating, the muscle fibers ripping apart one by one. It was not a clean cut. It was a ragged, violent split that traveled from her vaginal opening backward toward her anus. She felt the tear happen in stages. First a sharp sting as the skin broke. Then a deeper, hotter pain as the underlying muscle tore. Then a wet, sliding sensation as the head suddenly had more room and surged forward.

The pain of the tear was unlike anything she had felt before. It was not the burning of stretching. It was the pain of being broken. Rayna felt it travel through her pelvic floor like a crack spreading through ice, and she screamed. She screamed until her voice gave out, until only a hoarse, strangled cry came out. She screamed because the tear was still happening, still propagating, and she could not make it stop. She could feel blood flooding the area, warm and slick, and she could feel the head descending faster now that the tissue had given way. Her scream cracked and broke but never died.

The contraction kept going. Rayna had no choice but to keep pushing. She bore down through the tear, through the screaming, through the blood, and she felt the head slide forward another centimeter. The widest part was almost past her opening now. She pushed again, and the head crowned fully. The skull was visible, a dark curve of wet hair and pulsing fontanelle, and the tear had opened up a gash that ran from her vaginal opening almost to her anus. She could feel the edges of the wound gaping, could feel the raw, exposed muscle underneath. It hurt in a way that made her want to pass out. It hurt in a way that made her want to die. And still she screamed, a broken, ragged, desperate sound that came from somewhere deeper than her throat.

But the head was out. Just the head. The baby's face was turned toward her left thigh, eyes squeezed shut, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Rayna looked down at her daughter's head emerging from her body, and she laughed and sobbed at the same time, the sounds mixing with her screaming into a chaotic symphony of agony and relief. She reached down and touched the soft cheek, the tiny nose, the wet hair plastered to the scalp. Her fingers came away bloody. The tear was still bleeding, a steady trickle that ran down her thighs and soaked into the blankets.

"Almost there," she gasped between screams. "Almost there, baby."

But when the next contraction came, something else went wrong.

She pushed. And she screamed. The baby's head rotated slightly, the way it was supposed to, but the shoulders did not follow. Rayna pushed again, harder than she had ever pushed anything in her life, and her scream became a shriek of frustration and pain. Nothing happened. The head was out, but the rest of the baby was stuck. The neck was pulled taut against the ragged edges of her torn perineum, and every push only made the baby's chin press harder against the open wound. The pain of the tear flared with each attempt, a fresh wave of agony that made her see stars. And through it all, she screamed.

She knew what this was. She had read about it. Shoulder dystocia. The anterior shoulder was caught behind her pubic bone, and if she could not get it free, her daughter would suffocate. The cord was probably compressed right now. Every second mattered.

Rayna did not panic. She could not afford to panic. She took a deep breath and reached down with both hands, gripping the baby's head as gently as she could. She had read about the maneuvers. McRoberts position, which she was already in with her legs hyperflexed. Suprapubic pressure, which she could not apply to herself effectively. But there was another one. The Rubin maneuver. She was supposed to push on the baby's shoulder from the side of her abdomen, but she could not reach that far. Instead, she did the only thing she could think of.

She hooked her thumbs under the baby's armpits from the outside, as much as she could reach, and she pulled. Not hard. She knew not to pull hard. She just applied steady, gentle traction while she waited for the next contraction to build. When it came, she pushed with every muscle in her body, and at the same time, she rotated the baby's head slightly, trying to free that trapped shoulder. Her scream was a constant, vibrating roar that shook her whole body.

Nothing.

She tried again. Still nothing. Her scream cracked with despair.

The baby's face was turning purple. Rayna could see it. The little lips were going blue, and the cord was stretched so tight against her torn perineum that she could feel it pulsing against the raw edges of the wound. She had maybe two minutes. Maybe less.

"Come on," she screamed. "Come ON!"

On the next contraction, she pushed so hard that she felt the tear widen. She felt it happen. A fresh rip, traveling deeper into the muscle, heading toward her anal sphincter. The pain was blinding. It was a white hot spike that drove the air from her lungs and made her whole body convulse. She screamed again, a sound that was half pain and half fury, and she pushed and pulled and twisted all at once. Her scream rose in pitch until it was almost ultrasonic, a sound that no human throat should have been able to produce.

Suddenly, with a gush of fluid and blood, the anterior shoulder popped free.

The baby slid out of her in a rush of wet warmth, followed by a flood of amniotic fluid and blood that soaked the blankets beneath her. Rayna caught her daughter with shaking hands, bringing the slippery, screaming baby to her chest. And finally, finally, her own screaming stopped. It cut off abruptly, replaced by heaving, sobbing breaths as she held her newborn against her bare skin. The cord was still attached, pulsing with life, and the baby was crying. A thin, reedy cry that was the most beautiful sound Rayna had ever heard.

She held her daughter against her bare chest, wrapping the edge of a towel around her to keep her warm, and she sobbed. She sobbed for the pain. She sobbed for the fear. She sobbed because she had done it alone, completely alone, and they were both alive. Her throat was raw, her voice was gone, but she did not need to scream anymore.

But when she tried to move, to shift her weight to a more comfortable position, she felt the full extent of the damage. Her perineum was shredded. She reached down with trembling fingers and felt torn skin, jagged edges, a gash that went deep into the muscle and nearly reached her anus. She had torn badly. Third degree, maybe fourth. She could not tell. All she knew was that it hurt to breathe, and the bleeding had not stopped. Every time she moved, she felt the edges of the wound pull apart, and fresh blood welled up.

She lay there on the floor of her living room, her newborn daughter nursing at her breast, and she looked at the mess around her. Blood on the blankets. Blood on her thighs. Blood on her hands. The placenta was still inside her, and she knew she would have to push that out too, but she could not move. Not yet. And for the first time in nearly three hours, the room was silent except for the baby's small cries and Rayna's ragged, exhausted breathing.

Rayna closed her eyes and listened to her baby's heartbeat. It was fast and strong, right up against her own. She had done the impossible. She had birthed her daughter alone, through a brutal, endless pushing phase that had lasted nearly three hours, through a shoulder dystocia that should have required a team of doctors, through a tear that would need stitches she could not afford. And she had screamed through every second of it. Her throat was ruined, her voice was a whisper, but they were alive.

She opened her phone with a bloody finger and dialed 911. The operator answered on the first ring, and Rayna whispered four words before her voice broke completely.

"I had my baby."

The ambulance would come. The paramedics would cut the cord and wrap them both in blankets and take them to a hospital where a doctor would sew her back together. But right now, in this moment, Rayna was still on the floor of her living room, her legs still wrapped in that makeshift blanket strap, her knees still almost touching her ears. And her daughter was alive. Her daughter was screaming and squirming and perfect.

The first contraction hit Marley like a freight train derailing inside her pelvis. She was 19, a sophomore, and six weeks early by her careful calculations. She had been crouched over her biology textbook, highlighting the stages of mitosis, when her body decided to rewrite the entire chapter on human reproduction.

Across the cramped dorm room, a sound ripped through the stale air. A wet, guttural groan. Not from Marley. From Jess, her roommate, who was on her hands and knees by the window, her sweatpants already soaked through. Jess was 20, and she had been hiding her pregnancy under oversized hoodies for eight months.

Then a sharp cry from the bathroom. The door was half open. Cass, all of 19 and fiercely private, was leaning over the sink, her knuckles white on the porcelain. Her water had just broken, a clear flood spreading across the linoleum.

And in the corner, on a pile of dirty laundry, sat Rachel. She was the quiet one, the one who never complained about the midnight kicking or the sciatica. She was also 21, and she was crowning. No warning. No fanfare. Just a dark, wet curve of a head pushing its way out of her while she stared at the ceiling with an expression of pure, animal shock.

Four girls. One room. No phones. No RA. No ambulance that could arrive in time. The snowstorm outside had sealed them in, the campus on lockdown. They had been lying to themselves and everyone else for months. And now the lie was tearing its way out, all at once.

Marley was the first to move. Not because she was brave, but because the pain was worse than fear. She kicked off her jeans and stumbled to the center of the room, dropping into a deep squat. Her thighs burned. The baby was low, impossibly low, a hot bowling ball splitting her from the inside. She had read every book. She knew the theory. Theory did not prepare her for the raw, wet tear of her own cervix stretching to the size of a bagel.

"Push," Jess hissed through clenched teeth, but Jess was also pushing. Jess had her forehead pressed to the cold floor, her back arched like a feral cat. A low, vibrating scream came out of her, not loud, but deep, like a cello string snapping.

Rachel made no sound at all. She reached down with trembling fingers and touched the head. It was slick, dark haired, and wrinkled like a walnut. She let out a single sob, then bore down. Her body took over. There was no stopping it. The head rotated, slipped free, and the shoulders followed with a wet, percussive pop that made Cass vomit into the sink.

Marley watched Rachel catch her own baby. A tiny, bluish girl slid into Rachel's shaking palms, umbilical cord pulsing like a thick rope. Rachel looked up, tears and sweat dripping from her chin, and whispered, "She's breathing." A thin, reedy cry filled the room. It was the sound of a battle won.

But Marley was losing her battle. Her squat had turned into a collapse. She was on her hands and knees now, like a wounded animal. The baby was stuck. Not sideways, not tangled, just stubborn. A second contraction hit before the first one finished, a double wave of fire. She screamed. Not a movie scream. A real one. Raw, throat shredding, the kind that leaves you hoarse for days.

Jess crawled across the floor, leaving a smear of amniotic fluid behind her. She was still in early labor herself, but the urgency of Marley's scream cut through her own pain. Jess positioned herself behind Marley, straddling her hips, and pressed her palms against Marley's lower back. "Bear down on my hands," Jess ordered. Her voice was shaking but commanding.

Marley pushed. She pushed until the veins in her neck stood out like cables. She pushed until she saw white light and the taste of copper flooded her mouth from biting her own lip. The head descended. A fire rim of pain, the infamous ring of fire, and Marley understood with perfect clarity why women in history bit down on leather straps.

"I see the head," Rachel said, still holding her own newborn against her chest, umbilical cord trailing. She shuffled over on her knees, one hand supporting her daughter's neck. "It's right there. Small. Lots of hair. One more push, Marley. A real one."

Marley dropped her forehead to the floor. Her whole body clenched. She curled around the contraction like a fist closing. And then she pushed with a force that felt like she was trying to turn herself inside out. The head emerged. A gush of blood and fluid. Then the shoulders, twisting in that strange, corkscrew motion that no textbook can teach you. And finally, with a slippery, shocking release, the whole body slid into Jess's waiting hands.

A boy. Red faced, furious, and perfect. He screamed immediately, a lusty, indignant wail. Jess placed him on the floor between Marley's knees, and Marley turned over, hauled the baby onto her chest, and laughed. A wet, hysterical laugh that turned into a sob. The cord was still pulsing, thick and primal.

Across the room, Cass had not moved from the bathroom. But she was no longer leaning. She was squatting over a pile of towels, her face a mask of concentration. Her labor had been silent, almost secretive. But now her body was shuddering, and the unmistakable curve of a head was visible between her legs.

Jess, still on her knees, still in active labor herself (her own contractions were now two minutes apart, grinding and relentless), crawled to the bathroom. She grabbed Cass's hand. "You have to push through the burn," Jess said. "Don't fight it. The burn means it's almost over."

Cass pushed. A short, brutal push. The head stretched her perineum to a translucent pink, and for a terrible second, Marley thought she would tear to her anus. But then the head slipped free, followed by a rush of shoulders and limbs. A girl. Small, silent, and then suddenly screaming with a pair of healthy, furious lungs. Cass caught her own baby, sinking back against the toilet, her legs giving out. She was crying and laughing and saying "thank you thank you thank you" to nobody and everybody.

Now only Jess remained. And she was deep in the tunnel. The kind of deep where time stops and pain becomes a landscape you live inside. She had helped deliver two babies while her own waited, and now her body demanded payment.

Marley, still lying on the floor with her son nursing instinctively at her breast, reached out and took Jess's hand. Rachel, her daughter wrapped in a sweatshirt, positioned herself behind Jess. Cass, exhausted but euphoric, wet a washcloth in the sink and pressed it to Jess's forehead.

Jess pushed standing. She grabbed the edge of the loft bed frame, planted her feet wide, and bore down with a scream that rattled the window glass. Her knees buckled, but she did not fall. She pushed again. The head descended. She could feel it, a stretching, burning, impossible fullness. She roared. A pure, feral roar.

The head emerged. She reached down with one hand and touched the wet, wrinkled scalp. She felt the tiny ear, the curve of the skull. And then she pushed one last time, a push that lifted her onto her toes, and the baby slid out in a rush of fluid and blood, directly into her own shaking hands.

A girl. Jess caught her own girl. The baby opened her eyes immediately, dark and calm, and did not cry. She just looked at Jess with that ancient, knowing stare that newborns have, as if to say, "What took you so long?"

Jess sank to her knees, cradling the baby against her chest. The room was a disaster. Towels soaked in blood and fluid. Four placentas still inside four exhausted bodies. Four tiny, mewling infants. The snow was still falling outside the window, muffling the world.

Nobody spoke for a long time. The only sounds were the wet, snuffling breaths of newborns finding their first meals, and the occasional groan of a girl shifting on the hard floor.

Finally, Rachel looked around the room at the three other girls, three other new mothers, all of them strangers to each other just six hours ago. Her voice was barely a whisper, raw and stunned.

"Cleanup is going to be a nightmare."

Marley laughed, a genuine laugh that made her son startle and then settle. Jess snorted. Cass just shook her head, staring down at her daughter with an expression of complete, bone deep disbelief.

They had done it. No doctors. No epidurals. No ambulances in the snow. Four teenagers in a cramped dorm room, and they had torn open the gate of life with their bare hands and brought four souls screaming into the world.

Oh baby girl, what are you doing? I heard you moaning so low and deep. Oh. Look at you. So horribly pregnant you can't find comfort in anything. Your back screaming from the baby and the all the weight in your heavy belly and tits. Belly aching as my big fat baby drops low in your heavy uterus. All the terrible pressure bearing down right on top of your poor vagina as you get lightening crotch.

Sweetheart, you look like your in pure misery carrying Daddy's baby right now. Want you to squat as low and deep as you can and you ride the wave. I know you want to push so badly. I know you've reached your limit. You're doing such a good job. Daddy is so proud of you for carrying his babies.

That's it baby girl, keep moaning it out loud. Daddy will get on the floor and softly rub and play with that swollen bulging pussy while you groan and grunt with your heavy pregnancy.

I do have one particular permapreg fantasy where I prove myself as the alpha werewolf’s favorite womb and he starts breeding me daily. Near my due date, during a hard breeding, my water breaks and I whelp a few pups while he watches, but my belly is still huge. My contractions stop and it’s over. I get checked out and it turns out I have litters upon litters of pups inside me, each at a partial stage of development. There’s another litter of pups just ready to be whelped. The next day my alpha fucks me into labor again and I whelp another small litter. Every single day my water breaks and I have to squat and whelp a litter of pups, but my belly is always still full. And every day I’m bred and fertilized with a new litter while pregnant with 4 months’ worth of werewolf pups, all waiting their turn to be whelped.

(Content Warning: Unwanted pregnancy, reproductive abuse, talks of abortion and neglect, trauma)

The first time, he insisted it was an accident.

My boyfriend said he loved me, that he would stay with me. Obviously we were too young to get married. But we would stay together, raise the child together.

Yet, I often felt like I was alone. Struggling with classwork, dealing with my changing body, even things like getting dressed and cleaning my room getting more and more difficult.

Watching the way the pregnancy completely took over my body, my life, was painful on a different level. The fact people no longer asked me about me. They only asked about how the pregnancy felt. How the baby was doing. When I was due. If I knew who the dad was. Not about my interests or hobbies or shows we enjoyed. If we even got there, it was a distant step after every question down to what I want to name it.

The entire time, I kept telling myself I would learn to love it.

Submission note: this can be tagged fpreg, nbpreg, and tmpreg! You can credit me.

---

You are special. You are the brilliant, shining star of his class.

Sure, maybe he fucks some of the other students, too. Maybe you’re far from the only person who’s been on your knees and gagging on his cock. Maybe his desk has seen all kinds of young, vigorous minds bent over his desk and reduced to brainless, cock-hungry sluts.

But you’re special. You’re absolutely certain of it. After all, you’re the one carrying his child.

If you weren’t special, then why is no one else pregnant? Why are you the one who gets to call him by his actual name instead of just Professor Hale? Why does he look at you like that during department events and guest lectures? He’s so willing to risk everything for you. After all, when it was first obvious to everyone that you were expecting, he had followed you out of the ballroom, pulled you into a janitor’s closet, and gripped your belly as you rode him. It’s already hot enough to have his baby inside of you; it’s even hotter when his cum is rolling down your leg while you talk with the department head about your upcoming senior thesis.

421.1. A request: The Queen of a nation is about to give birth to the next heir to the throne. Naturally such an event can’t take place in her private chambers, instead she must give birth in a public space, for the court and commoners to see. Bonus points if she has to be restrained in some way.

A Crown for a Queen

A Valiantremnant original

Pre-Story notes: Oh did this prompt ever inspire me. I initially planned on doing a fun little short story, but as I went, I wound up expanding and expanding (lol) until I got to where the story is now. I might do more with this world, but who knows. Now, quick note, due to the nature of this story, it's not very dialogue heavy. I tried to break it up as best as I could, but if I put a ton of dialogue in it, the main character would mostly be talking to herself, and given the setup here, (some dehydration) that isn't really a good idea.

Labor of Love, Pt. 1

A Valiantremnant original

Pre-story notes: Firstly, an important note. I get that the premise/setup of closing hospitals for the location of this story is somewhat topical, and genuinely, my heart goes out to anyone who finds themselves in this situation, be they a doctor or a patient. Moving on, with birth, there is a large 'mind-over-matter' mindset. If you go into labor in high spirits, it might still be difficult, but you'll at least be starting from a good point. If you go in feeling more defeated from the get go, it's only going to get worse from there. So I've put my characters though decent amounts of physical torment throughout my stories, I figured for once, I'll let labor just be labor, but play mind games. Extra note written while this story is awaiting release: I had not seen really any amount of Friends aside from the occasional clip that shows up on reels, so imagine my surprise when at someone's house, I found, essentially, the plot of this story being played out on tv! Extra extra note: This wound up being much longer than I intended, so I'm splitting it into two parts. But all things considered, it works out better that way.

CW/Ingredients List - Mostly emotional warfare and a difficult birth

~

Jenny Bird rubbed her belly, huffing through the latest contraction as a nurse wheeled her through the county hospital. Due to budget cuts, the hospital near her had shut down a few weeks prior to her due date, and had been forced to get a ride from a friend. The original, five minute drive replaced with a forty-five minute rush to the nearest hospital that, even though was much large than her own, preferred clinic, was far too small to be taking the sheer volume of patients from the city and surrounding towns. At least her OB was working at this one. Or was supposed to be. "But you're sure he's not in today?" Jenny asked as the Nurse leaned forward to push the elevator button to get them up to the labor and delivery ward. "I can check, but I think Dr. Kail called in today. But don't worry, Dr. Jay is just as good as Dr. Kail." Jenny didn't doubt that this Dr. Jay would be just as competent, but more importantly, whoever they were, they weren't her doctor. The nurse kept on talking while Jenny worried over this. "But the good news is right now we have an empty labor room. If you're lucky, you might not have to share before you give birth." "Wait, what?" "Well, we aren't really a large enough hospital to take on the patient influx we have been, and we're trying to keep up, we we've gone back to shared labor rooms. But it's all good, like I said, you get your own for now!" "No," Jenny protested, and put her hands down to try to stop the wheelchair, and she began to claw her way out of it, "I don't… I want to go home, I can't do this… AH! OWWW!" Just as the other contractions had been, this one felt like it ripped through her back and legs more than her belly.

Jenny, her hands now raw from trying to stop the wheelchair, writhed and tried to press where the pain was worse. By the time the contraction had ended, she found herself in a labor room that looks like it was dropped from another decade. Three beds were in a row, but could be separated by curtains. Or at least could have been. The tracks for the curtains were present, but the fabric walls themselves were gone. But the beds at least looked like they were new, or new-ish. "Let's get you into bed then," The nurse said, and helped Jenny get out of the wheelchair. Jenny knew she had a ways to go, but the amount of pain she felt when standing up was why she had wanted the wheelchair. "Can't I just stay here?" Jenny moaned, her breath hitching a the mere idea of getting up. "Sorry, but we'll need the chair. We'll have you in a gown and into bed in no time, you'll see." Jenny didn't remember much of that process, but eventually, she had a gown that exposed her back on, and she was laying, sobbing and gasping for breath on the bed. "Alright, we have the remote here, it controls the bed, the tv and has a nurse call button. Like I said earlier, we don't have a ton of women in labor right now, so we have enough rooms for privacy, but that could change." The nurse looked like she was about to say something else, but a beeping came from the pager at her side, and she checked it. "Sorry, I need to dash off. I'll check in on you soon, alright?"

The nurse was gone before Jenny could say anything. Before she could ask if her doctor was even in. If an epidural was possible. That if someone else came in, if curtains could be found. While she was quiet, or at least quieter between contractions, she could hear voices out in the hallway, the voices of nurses, doctors, other women in labor, and their partners. Something she didn't have. Her boyfriend, Greg, had cheated on her with a former high school… friend wasn't the right word, and while Jenny had never been the target of it, bully was the correct term. Once Jenny had walked in to see Greg and Crystal on their be-her bed! She had been the one to sign everything for the apartment and pay for everything, she had had kicked him out. Her grieving for the death of the relationship had nearly killed her, but she had managed to pull herself together and shape up. She buried her feelings at the gym, working harder than she ever had in her life. It hadn't taken long for her notice changes. Her arms were stronger, her shoulders were more defined, her legs were so fit she could almost imagine doing that trick where one crushes a watermelon in them, and her abs were cut to a razor's perfection. At least they were. No sooner than she had started getting noticeable improvements in that area when it seemed like all of her progress on her tummy had started undoing itself. After changing her regimen, her diet and even her fluid intake without any change, at least for the better, she went to the doctor. One positive pregnancy test later, and she knew that no amount of working out would flatten her belly. At least not for a while. She had kept working out during her pregnancy, enduring all of the comments and judgement of cramming her body into tight, moisture-wicking bodysuits for at the gym, and completely changed her lifestyle around. She had hoped that getting into the best shape in her life would help make the inevitable labor and delivery easier.

So far, it hadn't been. Hours after she had been put into the room, Jenny hadn't been able to get through a single contraction without nearly crying by the end of it. "Hi Jenny, how are you holding up?" "Oooooooooohhh….OW! I feel like I'm dying." "Oh no, let's look you over, ok?" The nurse helped get Jenny back into her bed, and propped her up to check her dilation. "Well, you're dilating nicely, looks like you're at five centimeters." "Five? Can I get an epidural?" The nurse pulled her hand out and stripped the glove off to throw away, "I can put in the request, but it might take a while, We only have one anesthesiologist here today, and she's tied up right now. But we'll get you numbed up as soon as we can, ok?" "Ok," Jenny mumbled, feeling miserable, and began writhing as another contraction began ripping mercilessly into her. "OW! HuuaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAGH! AH!"

When the contraction finally let her go, she saw that the nurse was still in the room. "Jenny, I know I said that we'd try to keep you in your own room for as long as we could, but we're starting to get some overflow. I initially came in here to tell you that your roomie will be in here in a few minutes." "Is there anywhere else?" "Sorry honey, but this is the last room we can use." "What about… there are tracks for curtains, can we get something put up as a divider?" "I can look, but I don't think we have anything that goes in those tracks anymore." The nurse left after a short word of encouragement and Jenny did her best to hold herself together for another few contractions. "Oh. My. God. Jenny? Of all the rooms in this hospital…" Jenny flinched, and turned in her bed to see the one person she didn't want to. Crystal was being helped into the other bed in the room, and the nurse left, saying something about getting swamped. "Crystal? What the hell are you doing here?" Jenny could feel her cheeks getting flushed, and not from labor. "I thought I'd have a baby, see where things go from there." Jenny knew she looked like a mess, her hair was disheveled, the little makeup she'd had on when she came into the hospital was a fading dream, and her eye were running with tears from the pain, and now the stress of Crystal showing up. Crystal on the other hand looked like a goddess of labor. Her hair was immaculate, her full face of makeup was flawless and even her nails were boasting a polished sheen as if she had just come from a spa and salon day and got interrupted by having a baby.

"Is it Greg's?" Crystal's voice came from across the room. "Shut up," Jenny moaned as she worked her way through another contraction, "OW owowowowowowowwwwwwWWWWW!" Crystal sighed and adjusted herself in her bed, rubbing her belly, "If it is Greg's, don't expect him to have to take on any responsibilities for it. He's mine, and I won't have you getting involved." 'The feeling is mutual,' Jenny thought to herself, but winced and held a hand to her own belly. She hadn't been able to stay in her bed. Laying back or on her side felt like hot irons were being pressed into her spine. Standing was tiring, but at least it offered some respite from the abuse her own uterus was putting her through. After a handful of contractions, Jenny began wondering why she hadn't heard so much as a peep from Crystal. At least nothing to indicate she was having contractions. She didn't like how much space Crystal was taking in her head, and tried to ignore it, but she couldn't help but discreetly watch for a moment. There! the monitor she was hooked up to was indicating she was having a contraction, but… As Jenny began to have a contraction of her own, the overwrought muscles in her belly rippling with pain and tension, she couldn't believe it. Crystal had merely closed her eyes, shifted slightly and was lightly moaning, a smile on her face. It was almost as if… "Ahhhhhhh…. Oh my god…" Crystal moaned, opening her eyes and looking at Jenny with something like fake remorse, "I'm sorry, I can't help that. Labor just feels so good, doesn't it?" Before Jenny could even think about responding, she was taken by yet another contraction.

It wasn't fair. Jenny was suffering, unable to even sit from the wretched throbbing and tearing in her back, one hand pressed there for support and the other under her massive stretchmark covered belly. She knew that negative thoughts were more than just unhelpful during labor, but she couldn't help but feel jealous at comparing her massive stretched out belly to Crystal's neat, cute, almost picturesque bump. "Hooooooooooo, Oh my goooooooddddd," Jenny moaned, her lips pressing together after and humming her way through the contraction, "HmmmmmmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmm….." As she did, she became aware of a sound from the other side of the room. her head snapped up and she could see Crystal's lips pressed together, making a humming noise of her own. At first, Jenny felt a surge of vindictive satisfaction, thinking that Crystal was starting to get a taste of what labor was REALLY like. But as she had another, and yet another contraction that she hummed through, with Crystal following suit, Jenny began to realize that Crystal wasn't doing it to cope at all. It was a small look that Crystal gave her, a sly smile that barely formed before it vanished, but Jenny saw it, and knew. Crystal was mocking her. "What-Augh!….. What are you doing?" Jenny bit out after a contraction fitfully died away. "Nothing," Crystal said with mock sweetness, "Just trying to have my baby. You're being awfully loud."

Before Jenny could say anything, her nurse came in, having clearly heard only the last bit, "Well, some women have more difficult labors than others. How are you holding up Jenny?" Jenny glared at Crystal, but decided not to bring it up, "Not great… can I get the epidural? My back is killing me!" The nurse nodded, helping Jenny into bed so she could check her, "She's out of the surgery she was in, and is making rounds right now. I can see if she can swing by this way. Does it feel worse if you're in bed? Like the only way you can get comfortable is when you're standing up and leaning over?" "Yeah…" Jenny whined, feeling her belly tighten up again as another contraction built up. "Yeah, that sounds like textbook back labor. I'll get you up to the top of the list. But good news, you're at six centimeters! It shouldn't be long now." The nurse left, leaving Jenny alone with Crystal again. "So, getting the epidural? Can't handle it naturally?" "Shut uuuuppp…" Jenny moaned as the contraction peaked, taking her breath away again.

It took another few contractions with Crystal mocking her during every single one before the anesthesiologist came through. "Hello there," The anesthesiologist said, bringing his cart to a stop, "Let's get you numbed up, ok? Stop that back labor." "Ok," Jenny mumbled, feeling defeated. She knew that it wasn't rational, but somehow, knowing that Crystal was in the same room, doing the same thing, yet not getting an epidural made her feel weak, and like a quitter. Getting the epidural was a nightmare. All she wanted to do through the three contractions while she was getting it was to move, to rock and to pace, but she had to sit on the edge of the bed, curled over and around her belly to let the anesthesiologist get at her with the needle. But after, she could feel it working right away. "Thank you…" Jenny moaned as the nurse helped her lay back into bed. She knew that she couldn't pace anymore with the epidural in, and now she was tethered with plethora of I.V. lines and monitors. But she knew that it wouldn't matter, cause now she could relax through them. She could feel her legs getting heavy, warm and somehow cold all at the same time, and soon, she couldn't move them at all. "Ok… that's better," She breathed to herself.

The next contraction took her off guard. "WhoaUUUUUGGHHHH! OWWWWWWwowowowowowowwwWWWWWW. Holy FUCK!" Jenny howled as she mashed down on the epidural button and tried to writhe away from the pain. The blissful feeling in her legs kept her from moving too much, but Jenny managed to sit more upright as she dug her hands into her back and belly as the contraction rolled around her torso, gripping and biting her back and belly with a fury. When it was done, Jenny collapsed back on her pillow, panting. "Epidural didn't take?" Crystal asked pointedly from her side of the room, "That's what happens when you try to not do it naturally. Oh! OW! Owowowow fuck!" Jenny could feel tears brimming in her eyes as Crystal mocked her own desperate cries. "It's fine!" Jenny snapped, barely able to see through her tears of pain and growing frustration, "It just needs more time to kick in." "Whatever. Just keep it down. You're making it difficult for me to focus." Jenny snarled silently, and settled back in, willing the numb sensation to move up. To leave her legs and settle into her belly. Her back. She just had to wait… just had to wait… just had to-

"Auuuugh! OWWWWWWw owowowowowohmygOOOOOOOOOOOOD!" Jenny screamed again through another contraction that was horrifically devoid of any sort of relief. The epidural wasn't helping, and she couldn't even get out of bed to help. "Oh my god, can you stop being so dramatic?" Crystal asked from the other side of the room. "SHUT UP!" Jenny sobbed, arching her back and shuddering as she tried to get through the contraction. This was a nightmare. Little did Jenny know though, it was about to get worse. The first came when Crystal's nurse came in and she overheard Crystal's question. "Is it possible to get moved to another room? I don't want to be rude, but she's making it hard to concentrate on my own labor." "I'm sorry," The nurse said, "But our rooms are all full right now. And unfortunately, unless we're moving you into the delivery room, we're not allowed to move patients around, it's a liability thing." Jenny didn't know if Crystal genuinely wanted to move, or was just making herself a victim in all of this, but the end result was the same. Jenny was stuck here until she got to 10 centimeters and was ready to push. The second thing that made it all worse was who came in next.

"How's my girl?" Greg asked as he came in and gave Crystal a hug. "I'm doing just fine honey," Crystal said, hugging Greg right back, "I think the classes are paying off, I keep having orgasms while I go!" "Nice," Greg said, giving her another squeeze. "And you'll never guess who my roomie is?" "You have to share a room?" "Yes, but look!" Crystal said, the sickly cheerful attitude clearly hiding a malicious enjoyment of Jenny's suffering. "Holy crap, Jenny?" Greg said, looking genuinely startled to see her, "You're here? In labor?" Jenny didn't respond, instead looking away, feeling fresh tears she didn't know she had left run down her face, as well as feeling another contraction building. "OoooooooHHHHH MY GOD! OWOWOWOWOWOW…." As she struggled to pull fresh air into her lungs, she could hear Crystal speaking with fake concern to Greg, "She opted for an epidural, but it failed, and now she has to deal with back labor without being able to move anymore. Isn't that awful?" "Geez, that sounds like it sucks," Greg agreed. At least for his part, Greg sounded like he actually meant it, if only a little.

"How are you doing Jenny?" The nurse asked when she came back in. "I wanna die…" Jenny moaned as she tried to writhe through the contraction, only to be hampered by the epidural's effects, "Why isn't it working?" "Have you pushed the button?" The nurse asked, checking everything that she could. "It isn't workinggggg," Jenny whined, even though she did her best to keep the pleading tones from her voice. "It might not be set up properly," The nurse said, "Let me check you dilation and we'll see if we have time to get it fixed, ok?" "Ok," Jenny mumbled, miserable. She had another two contractions back to back before the nurse pulled her gloves on to check. Jenny tried to hold still for the check, but with as much as she was going through, she wouldn't help but pathetically trying to roll away, her numb legs still completely useless. "You're at a solid… I'd say eight? But it feels stretchy, so I'd actually call that nine. I don't think we have time to get that epidural fixed sweetie. But I'll let the doctor know, and we should have you pushing soon." The nurse left, and Jenny broke down.

Her face was buried in her hands as she sobbed. It was so unfair! Everything was going wrong! She couldn't labor the way she wanted to because of the back pain, she couldn't get pain relief that worked, and worst of all- "See, that's why I wouldn't get the epidural. It would be so crushing for it to not work if I gave up and got it." "SHUT UP!" Jenny screamed, the sudden jolt her body gave for the effort trigging another tsunami of a contraction. She'd never got why people called contractions waves, but now she did. She felt like she was drowning in contractions, each one squeezing her, ripping the air from her, and just when she thought she could breath, another one came crashing over her, starting the process all over again. "Not that you'd need it baby," Greg said in a sickly sweet voice to Crystal, "You're so strong." Mid contraction, all Jenny could do was struggle not to cry, the hitching motion making the pain unbearable.

But despite her efforts, each time she sobbed, she was becoming aware of a new sensation building, one that filled her with dread. Deep in her hips, she could feel pressure. It was almost time. Jenny could almost hear her hips creaking as something massive began making it's way down. "Whoa, noooo," She groaned, trying to open her legs up, but only succeeding in making them twitch limply. Using her arms, Jenny managed to get herself positioned better, and struggled through the next contraction. Both her efforts to move and the contraction only made the pressure worse, a feeling that told her that not only did the epidural not help her aching belly, it also wouldn't dull a single sensation while pushing. Pushing! She had to push it out soon! "I change my mind, I wanna c-section!" Jenny began pleading to no one at first, but then to the doctor as he came in. "Only if you need one," He said, pulling gloves on, "We don't really have the resources to do voluntary cesareans at the moment…" "I can't! The pressure is so bad, AIIIEE!" Jenny yelped as the doctor went in and checked her without so much as asking. "Yeah, I'd say that you're at a nine for sure… No, I'd say nine and a half. Let's get her into delivery." "What? Right now?" Jenny panicked, her breathing coming fast and then strangling off as she had another contraction. "Yes ma'am, between the pressure and your dilation, you're ready to push." The nurse had gone over to the phone in the room, and was speaking softly, "Can we get a delivery room ready for Ms. Jenny Bird? We'll be right over."

As the Doctor and Nurses swarmed, getting Jenny's bed ready to roll, Crystal made a soft sound of surprise, and she pulled her blankets down. "Oh my god, is that my water? I think my water broke!" Jenny was too preoccupied to care, but the last thing she heard from the labor suite was the nurse calling for Crystal's doctor, "I think she's just about fully dilated." The hallway Jenny was wheeled down was both the longest and the shortest Jenny had ever experienced. On one hand, she knew that getting to the delivery suite meant that her labor would end and the pain would stop, and that made the journey seem to take forever. On the other hand, giving birth meant that her first true step into raising her baby would begin, and the dread that filled her with made the trip seem all too short. "Oh my god, I think I want to push!" She groaned as she felt another contraction, the last one she would have outside of the delivery suite. "Don't push yet," The doctor said, "I gotta help you that last little bit so your don't hurt yourself. Just pant until we get there, ok?" "But I want to push!" Jenny wailed as the bed was wheeled into the delivery suite. At least these were private. Jenny didn't know how she would have pushed her baby out if she'd had to share this space with Crystal and Greg.

"Ok Jenny, you ready to have this baby?" Jenny couldn't answer as the next contraction had started, "Hnnnnnggggggg!" "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Don't push yet," The doctor said as the overhead light was turned on and aimed at Jenny vagina, now exposed with her sheets ripped away and her gown hiked up above her belly. "I… I can't stop!" "You need to wait until I can help you, just breathe!" Jenny began hyperventilating. The pressure felt like someone was trying to rip her pelvis apart. All she wanted to do was find a comfortable position and push with everything she had. Not being able to move very well, she would have settled for pushing, but even that option was being denied to her. "Please, please hurry!" She cried as the contraction faded, only to ramp back up almost as soon as it had faded, "NooooOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNGGGHHH! AUGH! PLEASE HURRY!" "Ok Jenny," The doctor said, "I'm going to help move that last bit of cervix out of the way and then we can get this show rolling!" Before Jenny could ask what meant, she felt the doctor's hand going deep inside her. She screamed, trying with all her might to buck her hips to get the hand out. All she wanted to do was push something out, and now something was trying to go in? But the worst was yet to come. With her next contraction, she knew she couldn't hold back from pushing any more, and pushed with all her might, only to feel a sharp jab at her cervix, and a sensation of hard pinching inside.

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! OW, OW, OW! STOP IT!" "You need to push Jenny," The doctor said between her legs, "Push and I can stop." "I am pushing!" she shrieked, but the doctor shook his head. "You're wasting all your energy when you scream, take a deep breath, hold it and push!" Jenny did her best to follow his instructions, but the pressure behind her eyes and in her cheeks grew unbearable. She was faintly aware of the nurses holding her legs back counting down from ten, and she thought she made it farther than seven, but got lectured again when she fell back, panting and gasping for air. "Jenny, you need to buckle down and push. If you only push for like, three seconds, you're never going to have this baby." Jenny started crying at the seemingly harsh words, and she heard one of the nurses talking to her. "When you hold your breath, hold it in your chest and belly, not your cheeks. It'll help, ok?" Jenny nodded, and began whimpering as she felt another contraction. Taking a deep breath, she tried doing what she'd been told, and to her amazement, this push didn't hurt her head as much. But it did hurt her vagina more, and she felt the doctor dig harder into her cervix as she did. She wanted to stop, but found that she couldn't her body was pushing on it's own, a frantic, unyielding drive that took her breath away. Just as she felt her vision swimming, she felt something inside lurch and she gasped, pulling in a huge lungful of air as she felt the baby jolt down.

"That's the cervix gone Jenny," The doctor said, pulling his hand out, "Let's have a baby!" Jenny was crying too much to answer, her whole body shaking with her sobs. She watched the doctor and a pair of nurses going through items on a metal tray that all terrified her. Scissors, scalpels, clamps, and more items she didn't recognize. But after all too short of a rest period, she felt another contraction and tried to squirm into a more comfortable position, the dead weight of her legs making the task difficult. "Oh, here we go again," a nurse said, and helped pull her legs back. Jenny hooked her hands behind her knees and flinched as she felt the doctor's fingers press into her vagina. "No, don't touch me," She whimpered, her voice nearly lost with how tired and breathless she was, but couldn't repeat herself as she was fully taken in by the contraction. "That's it Jenny, push push push push puuuush!" "Oooooohhhhh… HaaaaaAAAAAAARRRRGH! OW! AAAAAHHH!" It felt like as she pushed, something was trying to push the baby back up, or at least stop it. Jenny gave everything she had, and still, at the end of the contraction, the pressure barely felt lower than it had before. "Why isn't it coming," She moaned, letting her arms flop down. "It's just because baby is posterior," The nurse next to her said, "It's just going to be a bit more work to get them here, but you got this!" Jenny didn't feel like she had this, but another contraction took her focus before she could do anything about it. "Hoo…hooo… HooooUUUUAAAAARRRGH!"

"Good push Jenny, good job!" The nurse reassured Jenny after what seemed like an eternity. Jenny was no longer capable of verbally responding between contractions, instead just weeping bitterly between pushes. Looking at the clock on the wall, Jenny figured she had been pushing for roughly an hour, and didn't feel like she was making any progress. Each contraction kept building pressure, and if she could, Jenny would have been writhing to try to make it stop. She wanted to change position, hands and knees, squatting, anything, but her numb legs wouldn't cooperate, so she had to stay in place. The best she could do was wiggle back further into the bed, only to get pulled back down by the nurses each time. "I think we should try the vacuum," The doctor said quietly to the nurse who was helping him between Jenny's legs. Jenny could barely pay attention, and hardly noticed as the nurse began setting up on the bits of equipment on the metal tray, a pump attached to a cup with some tubes. "Jenny, I know you said you didn't want a c-section, but your baby isn't making any progress. I want you to give everything you have on this next push, and we'll see how things are sitting, ok?" Jenny nodded miserably, and braced herself for the next push. "HooooooOOOOAAAAAARRRRGGGHHH….. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUGHH!" As much as she tried, Jenny couldn't keep quiet, no matter how many times the nurses and doctor told her that screaming wasted energy. But given how long she had been pushing, Jenny didn't think that the occasional screaming was doing much overall. The doctor grimaced and shook his head. "Jenny, I'd like to try a vacuum pump. It's very simple, I just put this cup on the baby's head, and I'll help guide it down. I think once we get it started, it should come out much easier. What do you think." "Fine, yes, please, yes," Jenny sobbed, to broken to care what happened so long as the baby came out. It didn't take long for her to regret that mindset.

The doctor started by inserting the cup. She could feel every curve and feature of the instrument as the doctor slowly pushed it and his hand inside her vagina. "Oh gooooddd!" She moaned, trying to squirm back in the bed and away from the feeling. "Jenny, I need you to hold still for me," The doctor said, and nodded at one of the nurses. The nurse came and helped hold Jenny steady while the cup was pushed in until it was on the baby's head. Once it was in, the doctor began pumping on the handle, and Jenny groaned. She could feel the cup sucking further in and flattening, and she tried to move again, only to be guided back to the edge of the bed. "Ok, now Jenny, next contraction, I want you to give it all you got. When I start pulling, we're gonna feel some progress, but you gotta keep pushing through whatever you fell, or it's gonna hurt the baby. Can you do that?" Jenny nodded, unable to speak, her chest tight from fear. Fear of things going wrong, fear of what was about to come, and fear that it would never be over. Her belly hurt each time she sobbed, but she couldn't stop. The only thing that could make her stop were the endless contractions, which didn't leave her enough breath or energy to cry.

The next contraction came well before Jenny was ready. Her sobbing halting as she felt every one of her muscles clamping down, Jenny arched her back and began to push. Then the doctor pulled on the vacuum. Her eyes shot open and she let out her breath in an explosive scream, her back arching against the sudden intense pressure that built up and began to drive down into the deepest parts of her hips. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHHH! OH MY GOD! OW, STOP IT!" But no matter what she screamed, the doctor didn't stop. And his warning about her not pushing now could hurt the baby, she sucked in a deep breath and pushed into the building pressure. She pushed and pushed as hard as she could, but no matter how much effort she put into pushing, the baby didn't seem to be descending any faster than what the doctor pulled. A part of her began to wonder if she could have delivered the baby without assistance at all, or if she was too weak to do so. But she kept pushing as hard as she could, her teeth gritted so hard her jaw began cramping. The contraction began to let up, and Jenny let out her breath, shuddering and panting, but still the doctor didn't stop pulling. Panicked, Jenny rallied herself and began to push again, the sensation feeling far weaker without the contraction, and she wiggled her hips trying to help the pressure move faster.

"Need… to… stop…" Jenny grit out after another minute of this. The doctor blinked and looked at the monitor in surprise, "Whoops, kept that one going a little long there. Ok, let's have a look and see…" He took one of monitors strapped to Jenny's belly and began probing the bottom of her belly and moving down. "There we are, that's some good progress. Tell you what, I think on the next contraction, we might get the head out. You ready to have your baby?" Jenny nodded, and began groaning as the next contraction began to build. "Ok, let's go," The doctor said, and began pulling again. "AAAAAAAAUUUUUUURRRRRRGGGGH! OW!" "Try to keep that inside," The nurse told Jenny. "YOU TRY!" Jenny howled, and bore down again. Then she felt it. Her lips began pulling apart and stretching, the feeling so alike the sensation in her birth canal she could barely tell the difference. But it quickly grew worse, as if instead of a vacuum tube, the doctor had shoved a hot brand into her vagina. "OH MY GOD!" Jenny screamed as she felt the head stretching her wider and wider. And with an audible pop and a jerk that send shocks of pain through Jenny's entire body, the cup came off of the head. "There we go," The doctor said, and stuck a finger in, running it around the edge of Jenny's lips, making her shudder with the overstimulation of her most sensitive area, "Told you we'd see the head. Now if you still have the contraction, give us a nice big push." "It's… It's gone," Jenny moaned, panting, her mind buzzing from the pain of the full crown in her hips. "Ok, let's give you time to stretch then."

The next contraction seemed to both take forever and come all too soon. Jenny felt her belly starting to seize up and she shifted uncomfortably. "Oh godddddddd," She groaned, deep and low as she gathered everything she had left and pushed as hard as she could. As she pushed, she began making a whining noise in the back of her throat as she felt the burning growing, getting more and more intense. She could feel her heartbeat pulsing in the ring of fire, each pulse making the sensation burn hotter and hotter… Until with a sudden release, she felt the burning vanish! Not entirely, but it dropped to a much lower point so quickly, she fell back and just panted and groaned in relief. "And that's a head," The doctor said, but Jenny could barely pay attention. The head had barely come out before the baby began turning and Jenny made a gagging noise. She almost felt sick at the slick sensation of the mass of the baby roiling inside of her, repositioning itself for the final push. And with a final surge of effort and pressure, Jenny pushed one last time and felt the body tumbling it's way out of her. "And we have a baby!" The nurse who had dragged Jenny back into position over and over again shouted as the baby began crying. The cord was cut and the baby was taken to get examined right away. On one level, Jenny hated that. She had read about the benefits of immediate skin to skin, but she was so worn and so mentally disconnected from everything that she didn't think she could have safely held the baby at first. To her, it was still, 'the baby' not 'my baby.' But after a few seconds, it was brought back to her and she felt her heart swelling, and her mind sharpening into clear focus. "Here's your baby," The doctor said, laying the bundle on Jenny's chest.

Despite her initial mind fog, Jenny bonded quickly, crying and smiling at her little girl. "Only five and a half pounds?" Jenny asked, disbelieving. "Sometimes their position can make the descent a little difficult," The doctor said, "But that is awfully small…" Jenny felt another contraction and groaned, shifting her hips. The epidural was starting to wear off a bit, and she had some movement back, but everything still felt heavy and sluggish. "Ah, that will by the placenta," The doctor said, and grabbed one of the steel trays, ready to catch the afterbirth. Jenny groaned and strained, feeling her belly ripple and seize again. "Just push like you did for your baby," The nurse said, "And it should come right out." "She didn't come right out," Jenny murmured before feeling something solid press into her hips. She groaned as she felt an all too familiar pressure driving down. "Oh god, I think there's another baby," She groaned, twisting as far as she could while still holding her daughter. "No, that's just the placenta," The nurse said, but the doctor cleared his throat. "Uh, can I get a monitor in here, that felt… pretty solid." Blinking, the nurse grabbed the fetal monitor and pressed it to Jenny's partially deflated belly. And everyone fell silent as another heartbeat began pulsing over the speakers. "Did you know you were having twins?" The doctor asked, his eyes wide. Jenny shook her head, and began groaning as she felt another contraction building.

"Page the station, get a second set of care gear here," The doctor said, and turned back to Jenny," Why don't you let the nurse take her for a bit, this is going to be a pretty intense feeling down here." As soon as Jenny handed her baby off to one of the nurses, the doctor put his fingers in her. And he didn't stop there. Jenny gagged and writhed, feeling the doctor's whole hand and wrist feeding slowly inside of her. "Oh my GOD! What are you DOING?" Jenny screamed. "I need to see what position baby is in," The doctor said, pulling his hand out, "But it feels like it's head down, so I think we're good to go if you wanna do it vaginally?" Before Jenny could answer, another contraction drove into her, and she curled forward, gripping the rails of the bed and pushing as hard as she could. "Whoa, I guess that's a yes. Ok yes, Jenny, push, push, push, push, push, push, puuuush." Jenny felt her thighs quivering as she pushed even harder, the head of the second baby stretching her birth canal all over again. If anything, it felt bigger than the first. But it was coming faster. "OH GOD! MAKE IT STOP!" Jenny screamed as she felt her lips stretching open into the ring of fire once again. "Keep going Jenny, push, push, push…" Jenny didn't have a choice but to keep pushing. And she knew that if the doctor said 'push' one more time, she would try to kick him in the head. She knew she had to push, she didn't need him to remind her to do that. "You are so close Jenny, you gotta push, push, puuuush… "I know I need to push! Fuck!" Jenny howled as she bore down. She tried to kick the doctor, but only barely managed to make her leg spasm, half jumping out of the stirrup and landing flat. The nurse grabbed it and shoved it back. "OWWWW! OW OW OW, STOP IT!" Jenny shrieked, before she felt her belly seize again and she was unable to do anything but push as hard as she could. "And there we go!" The doctor shouted as the baby went from a full crown to spilling out in the span of that single last push.

The soft lighting of the gallery hall draws attention to each and every contour of your exposed flesh; emphasizing the flushed patches of skin atop your shoulders, across your face and chest. Sweat glistens at your hairline, your temples, a droplet trailing along the column of your throat and following the downward curve of your craned neck. Your arms are drawn taut and bound behind you, elbows and wrists touching each other, and the sturdy chain links clink softly as you absently test the strength of the anchor point.

You stand with your legs wide apart, your plush thighs trembling slightly as the cool air of the room clashes with the heat emanating from your skin. In a bid for a little more comfort, you attempt to adjust your stance, but the spreader bar attached to both of your ankles make this an impossible task. In every sense of the word, you are well and truly bound, and with the choice of movement having been stripped from you, there is only one thing left for you to focus on.

One thing left for everyone to see.

With your head bowed it is difficult for you to tell whenever someone approaches you, but they make their presence known well enough; after all, you are an interactive piece. Hands roam over your sweat-slickened flesh, some tracing the line of your backbone, while others follow the curve of your heavy belly, cradling the hanging swell as if they are the one responsible for it. Voices surround you, some murmuring amongst themselves as they observe from afar, some rumbling close to you as they praise and admire your artfully bound and swollen form. There are coos of awe when they watch and feel your taut belly tense with contractions, coupled with dark chuckles of arousal as disembodied fingers trace between your legs, collecting and spreading the slickness they find there.

It is only when your water breaks with a thick gush that the hands remove themselves from you, your admirers stepping back and taking their place amongst the crowd that has gathered around you. The rules are clear from this point; they cannot touch, and they cannot help. You can’t see your audience in your current position, but you can feel their eyes roaming over you; watching as more amniotic fluid trickles freely from between your spread legs, syrupy droplets spattering onto the floor and accumulating in a messy puddle beneath you. Again your legs tremble as you cry out, another contraction rippling through your body, and your eyes squeeze shut as you brace yourself as best you can.

The restraints binding your arms shift and clink as you pitch further forward, curling in on yourself as much as you can as you bear down and give your first, true push. It feels so primal this way; your body bare and your belly swaying beneath you as you obey the whims of your instincts, pushing and panting in a way that borders on animal. Leather and metal creak as you move in what little ways you can, writhing and whimpering as each push brings you closer to the peak of your performance. Faintly you register the voices of the crowd, encouragement and objectification swirling and blurring and surrounding you entirely.

A keening cry erupts from your throat when you finally, finally feel it, the deliciously burning stretch of the head fully crowning. More fluid spurts out of you, and at this point there isn’t an inch of you that isn’t glistening with either sweat or birthing fluid. Your slick thighs tremble, your knees too, and you vaguely realize that you’re only being kept upright by your arm restraints. There isn’t time to dwell on this, though, not when you’re so close—

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!"

18+, MDNI, Word count 5500, Third Person POV

Contains: Rapid pregnancy, masturbation, orgasmic birthing, and fluffy couple nonsense

Description: Years following the birth of her first child Ruby finds a spell to live through her birth fetish one more time. Will she be responsible and end the spell before things get out of hand? Or will she lose another lover that experiences her indulging in her greatest kink?