Imagine You're A Pregnant Prisoner (AKA: Don't Push)
Imagine you’re a pregnant teen, who was imprisoned by her insane boyfriend when he found out you got pregnant. The whole ordeal started out fairly generically. In a night of passion (passion not entirely being accurate, sex with him wasn’t all that great, to be honest) you both forgot a condom. And you forgot to get more birth control pills. Anyway, a few weeks after your tryst, you began waking up to bouts of horribly intense nausea followed by hours of puking into your toilet until you dissolved into dry heaving. After the third instance this, you decide to bite the bullet and take a pregnancy test. You awaited nervously for a result until… positive. Fuck. Well, you didn’t necessarily want to become a mother at the age of 19, but you decided you should tell your boyfriend and talk about all the options.
When you arrive at his house (at the time, you didn’t find it odd that at the age of 20 he already owned a relatively large multi-story house) he senses your nervousness. You both walk into his living room and you decide then and there to just say it. “I’m pregnant,” you exclaim. He starts. He looks nervous. He rocks back and forth on his heels. Finally, after a horrific silence, he says he needs to leave the room. So, he does, and you resolve yourself to nervously pacing the room. By your fourth revolution you feel a rag pressed to your face wet with something… but it doesn’t matter anymore, you already feel your consciousness slipping.
You wake hours (at least, you assume it’s been hours) later on a bed in a dimly lit room. You notice the walls are… padded? Yes, they’re padded, with squares of corrugated foam arrayed in an alternating pattern. You recognize it, it’s the kind of foam board used to dampen sound in recording booths -oh no… Oh nonononono. It comes back to you in a rush. Going to your boyfriend’s house, admitting your pregnancy, then someone coming up behind you and pressing a cloth to your face. This can’t be happening, you think. You panic at first… then you convince yourself to calm down and take deep breaths. For the first time, you actually take stock of what’s in the room with you. You’re shocked to see its fairly well furnished, for a prison cell. The bed you find yourself sitting on is incredibly comfortable. There’s a desk, with a reading lamp and digital clock (reading 3 AM, you note). Next to the desk is a bookshelf, full of books of various genres. Suddenly, a voice comes over some hidden intercom.
It’s your “boyfriend”. He explains that he’s wanted to try something like this for years, only he’s just now found someone that fits one criteria in particular. He was looking for someone with uncommonly wide hips. It’s true, your hips were wider than most. Forcing you to wear embarrassingly large pants to accommodate your ample hips and ass. Even though you were in all other respects, rather petite, at not an inch over five feet tall and around 110 pounds. He goes on to say that despite what you might expect for someone in your situation, you wouldn’t be mistreated, but that attempting escape or active disobedience to any of his commands would be harshly punished.
A routine was quickly established, but strangely, catered to you somewhat. You woke up… whenever you wanted, though if you slept in past noon an alarm would eventually go off. You then would eat breakfast, which, oddly enough, was always delicious and incredibly balanced, nutritionally speaking. Then you’d have a few hours of free time, which you would spend reading or drawing. Next was… very strange… always, you would be led to another room filled with exercise equipment and told to exercise until you were ordered to stop. You tried to resist once, and you hated the result. You were dragged into another room, chained to a wall, and… spanked on the ass with a paddle. You hate pain. In school, they mocked you for it, calling you sissy, pussy, girly, etc. This was the only instance where you actively disobeyed. You hated pain, yes, but it was worse than that. It was humiliating. So you obeyed all orders given from then on out. After exercise was lunch, which was again, delicious and highly nutritious. Then followed by an indeterminate amount of free time. Which was quickly followed by another round of exercise, always different from your first round. Then came dinner. Again, delicious, nutritious, etc. And finally, more free time in your cell, after which you’d fall asleep, wondering why all of this was happening.
As days turned into weeks, then weeks to months, you started noticing something strange, something you nearly forgotten. You noticed one day, that your stomach was oddly hard. While you did exercise daily, it wasn’t enough to actually improve your physical condition. You remembered with a start that you were pregnant. In all this… you had forgotten. You put it from your mind. It would only make you feel even more melancholy then you already were. But you couldn’t forget it, no matter how hard you tried. Because it seemed like your pregnancy was progressing too quickly. One day, you asked your captor if he had been adding some kind of supplement to your food. He just smirked, and said it was about time you caught on. He told you that he’d been adding special pre-natal vitamins to your food. He exclaimed it was having the effect it he was hoping for. Then he barked that any more questions would be met with punishment. Though incredibly worried, you shut up, and went on with your exercise.
As the months rolled by, you got more and more worried. By month the fourth month, you had looked to be around six months pregnant. By six months, you looked to be nearly full term. You risked asking your captor if accelerated growth meant that you’d give birth early. He laughed, and said of course not, you’d carry your offspring to full term. He also told you, that no, you weren’t carrying multiples. The pre-natal vitamins were just ensuring that your baby would be nice and large. He laughed as the color drained from your face. Then he barked that further questions would be met by punishment. It was around this time that the exercise regimen stopped.
In its stead came an… intensely uncomfortable, yet incredibly comfortable, new regimen. He’d enter the room, and slowly strip you down to nothing. Sometimes he’d sit on the bed and order you to strip yourself. Then he’d tell you to lie down on your back. He’d splash some scented oil onto your gravid middle, and slowly, tenderly, lovingly, massage you. He’d start at your belly, rubbing slow, lazy circles all over your stomach. Each time, one hand traveled lower and lower, until he barely brushed the top of your clit. You gasped and moaned, arching your back. It had been months since anyone has intimately touched you like that. You nearly came at that slight brush against your sensitive nub. He giggled and slipped his hands fully between your legs (which you unconsciously spread) and began at first just teasing you. Ever so lightly brushing your clit, until you begged, pleaded, cried out at the top of your lungs, for more. And more he gave. He slipped a few fingers into your folds, again, causing you to nearly cum. Then he began slowly pumping his fingers. By the third rather shallow pump, you came. Gasping and moaning, you thrust your hips into his hand and to your surprise, squirted a not inconsequential amount. But he didn’t stop. Instead, he drove his fingers ever deeper, brushing his fingertips against your spot. All the while using his other hand to tweak and brush your clit. It was too much. Too much! You quickly came again, and again, and again, in quick succession. Each time the pleasure never abating, but building upon itself again and again and again until… You shrieked, bucking your hips wildly, pussy squirting liquid almost across the room. Your eyes rolled back, and you passed out from the blinding, white-hot pleasure. Your last conscious thought was that you could get used to this. You noticed though, that not once had he tried to actually fuck you with his dick, as much as you now craved it. You begged for it, over and over. But always he ignored you. And that was your new routine, for a few months, at least.
Your gravid stomach continued to grow. And grow. And grow. It got to the point where moving was becoming difficult, and you were confined to your bedroom, no, prison cell, you reminded yourself. You could barely wrap your arms around it as it is, and you still apparently had more to go. Eventually you noticed your belly seemed to “drop” and now it hung much lower than before. This drove you into paranoia. Every twinge in your stomach made your blood run cold. Every time your baby moved, you’d stop whatever you were doing and wait… hoping against hope that wasn’t what you thought it was. At one point, you asked when It was going to start. Your captor shrugged his shoulders and simply said it’ll happen eventually. And eventually, It did. But not in the way you expected. You woke one night, to a slightly sharp instance of lower back pain. It wasn’t localized in your stomach, so you discounted it and went back to sleep. Then, later, how later you didn’t bother to look, it happened again. But you simply (but with slight difficulty) wiggle your hips and go back to sleep. Then it happened again, but the pain seemed to last for a few more seconds, and was ever so slightly more sharp. You froze. You remembered reading somewhere that some women mistake lower back pain for the earliest of contractions. You yell out, screaming that Its happening. Your boyfriend- no- captor, rushes into your room-no- cell asking how bad the contractions are. You say you aren’t even sure they’re contractions, but your lower back hurts periodically and it’s getting worse. He nods, confirming that you’re indeed in very early labor. Then he leaves, saying he’ll be watching, but he won’t be sticking around for the “boring part”, whatever that meant. You yelled for him to come back, to get help, to get medicine or something. But he ignored you. And in any case, you had bigger things to worry about.
You supposed that you should use the digital clock to time your contractions. But… after waiting for nearly ten minutes, you got bored and decided to at least read to pass the time. As you got up, you felt it. The first pain localized in the expanse of your womb. It wasn’t that bad, and didn’t last that long. But nonetheless, you were terrified. You checked the clock, and it read 1:37 AM. You decided to stick with your plan of reading, not only to pass the time, but to get your mind off of It. And so, you read, every once in a while, stopping to stroke your belly as you felt it tighten. You’d mark the time of each contraction, and note their length and intensity. Eventually you gave up reading, finding yourself reading the same line over and over again, anxiety building for the next pain. This went by for hours, until the intensity and length of the pain got severe enough for you to grunt out loud, and breath heavily after they stopped. Eventually you gave up marking them down, as they increased in intensity, though you noted that it had officially crossed the three hour mark since your labor began. Then your grunts became growls and moans. You bent over the bed, wiggling your hips as your belly tightened, feeling as hard as steel to you. For the last dozen or so contractions, you felt pressure in what you only assumed was your cervix, only for it to abate as the contracted ended. But now the pressure was ever present, building and building with each contraction. You were so wrapped up in your pain, that you didn’t even notice that your captor was in the room with you until he was moving your panties out of the way of your now throbbing and engorged pussy. You felt him thrust his fingers into your pussy, fingertips brushing against your cervix, back and forth, left and right, up and down. You moaned, and not in pain this time. He reported that you were nearly five centimeters. Then he left, once again. And once again, you begged for meds, for him to stay, for any help whatsoever. But he was gone.
If you thought the pain was bad before, it was nothing compared what you anguished over now. His ministrations in your birth canal seemed to stimulate something, and your contractions went from merely agonizing to utterly, unbearably excruciating. You started squatting, using the bedposts as support. With each contraction, you’d drop from a slight squat to as low as you could go, trying to force your colossal baby out of you. And it was huge. You always knew it was very, very large. The massive expanse of your womb was a testament to that. But now you could feel it, literally feel it, against your cervix and against your womb. Every contraction your baby would flail a bit, adding to your agony, but you could now see obvious little details. An arm, a leg, an elbow… and you could vaguely tell… This baby would be monstrous…
As your next contraction built, you felt something else. Something new. Some fresh hell for you to suffer. You felt an urge… an urge to… you couldn’t even think it… It was so frightening and so painful. But yes, you felt it… the urge to push. Some other women would welcome this urge. It was a sign that you could actively start working towards the end of this horrible ordeal. That soon, it would be over, and the happy mother would get to meet their lovely baby. But not you. You hated what this meant. You dreaded what would come, the inevitable burning, the stretching, and God forbid, the tearing. So you resisted, for a while. You think you resisted for maybe five or six contractions (which now lasted for upwards of a minute and with barely 20 seconds between them). Each time, the agonizing pressure built. You practically see it in your mind’s eye, your womb crashing in on itself, nearly imploding. Your baby within, its poor head being squashed against your barely yielding cervix. And your cervix itself, stretching, straining, its still too small opening bulging. You could only resist for so long before… “Ugh…ha… ha… ha.. Urgh… Ha… Ha…Urrrghhh… Ahh… Ahhh… Aaaaaahhhh…. AAAAUUUUUGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” You tried barely grunting pushes first, punctuated by panting. Followed by one slightly protracted push, and near yelling. You wanted to take it easy at first, but he pressure was so great, your next push was long and loud and… FUCKING HELL IT FUCKING HURT!!!! You imagined your baby battering through your cervix, massively stretching your birth canal before causing your tiny, sensitive opening to cruelly bulge into a hideous full crown.
Again, you didn’t notice your captor let himself in. You barely noticed when his probing fingers plunged into your aching hole. You only noticed him when he said
“Don’t push. You aren’t ready yet. Your water hasn’t even broken. Hell, your cervix is barely at nine centimeters. You don’t want to tear it. Trust me.”
What? That couldn’t be. No…. No… NOOOOO! You had so far left to go. You were already crying, but now you started sobbing
“What do you mean, don’t fucking push? I feel it… I have to! I HAVE TO! I tried not doing it before… didn’t work… couldn’t last. No… No… NO! NOT ALREADY, I’M NOT READY! I NEED REST!” you sobbed, cried, and begged.
But you’d get no reprieve, you sobbed “I have to push… I HAVE TO PUSH! Ha… Ha.. HA! HA! HAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! PUUUUUSHHHHIIIIIIIINNNGGGG!!!!!”
Your captor seemed to get really, angry at that, and he hissed in your ear “No, babe. We can’t have any of that, not yet. I told you, not yet. Now you need to be punished”.
He pushed you onto your back, and grabbed both of your legs, tucking them under one arm. You were so shocked and in so much pain that you couldn’t resist. He produced a roll of duct tape and began wrapped it round your thighs just under your hips. Then around your knees. Ankles too. You begged, pleaded, screamed, shrieked, but to no avail. Then he got both of your hands and bound those above your head. Then he got a rope and tied your ankles to the bottom left bedpost, and tied your arms to the top right. You couldn’t move. You could do nothing to get out. And worse of all, he tied your legs together so tightly that pushing would do absolutely nothing.
It also didn’t help that you couldn’t change position to alleviate a tiny fraction of the pain. You just had to lie there. Moaning as each contraction built, shrieking as you pushed with each contraction. Somehow, they were coming even faster, and even harder. You weren’t lying when you said you couldn’t resist the urge. Worst of all the pressure kept building and building, and now pushing did nothing to relieve it. Eventually your captor produced some scissors, and started cutting your nightclothes off you. You begged for your captor to rip open your womb and just take the baby out, or to otherwise just kill you already. He just laughed. You noticed he hasn’t left either. Apparently, this was the “exiting” part. Finally, mercifully, you felt a pop, and felt hot liquid cascade out of you. It was a blessing, as much as it was a curse.
Your captor decided it was a good time to cut the tape around your thighs and knees to check your progress. As soon as you were able, you spread your thighs as far apart as possible. You wanted to push while you could, but this was the time between contractions, and you knew that pushing now would do less than nothing.
“Ah, finally. Twelve centimeters. I think you’re ready to start pushing of real, babe,” gleefully exclaimed your now definitely ex-boyfriend.
“Tw-twelve? But I thought… Oh… noooo…. Its that big? ITS THAT BIG?!?” you cried in anguish.
He laughed so hard at that he nearly fell of the bed. And as he laughed, you sobbed, for you felt another contraction build. And you knew that now you’d be pushing for real.
“Hooo…. Hoooo…. Hey! Gotta push… Uh… Uh… Ugh… Let me out… Gotta PUUgghhh… Hey! Heeey…. Heeey… Pushing! Puuuuuuuusshhhhhiiiiiiing!!!! PUUUUUUUUUSSSSSHHHUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAARRRGGAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!” You tried to get his attention so he’d cut you free and you could push in a more comfortable position, but he was still laughing at something you thought couldn’t be farther from funny. He noticed when your grunts of “pushing” turned into a long shriek, thank goodness.
He cut you free and told you that you could get in whatever pushing position you wanted. Instinctively you went down on your hands and knees. He laughed with glee and told you that you chose his favorite.
You ignored him and tried to focus on your hellish task. You yelped when he once again plunged his fingers in your birth canal. He told you that he reckons the baby’s head is finally past your cervix. Initially the news make you feel good, then you realized just how far you had left. It hurt so much, but you hadn’t even got the head to your opening. You couldn’t think of that any more however. You felt another hideous contraction building.
“Oooooh nooo…. Hoooo… hooooooo… haaaurghhh…. Haaaaaauuuuuuuurggggghhhhh… ha… ha… HAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!!! Ooohhhh…. Oooohhh…OOOOooooooooohhhhhh….” You pushed with your previous strategy, it felt right to you. Two short grunting pushes, followed by a long, loud one. You felt it do something, the baby slipped agonizingly slowly down your birth canal. Your “ohs” were because you felt two things. First, the baby’s head virtually at your opening, and second, the shoulders were starting to tease your cervix now.
As soon as he knew your contraction ended, your captor tried to finger your birth canal again. Tried, because he could only go about two knuckles in before running into your baby’s head. He whispered in your ear how good you were doing and that the hardest part was about to begin. Then he sat behind you, eagerly waiting to see the first signs of the head.
Again, like clockwork, you felt another hideous contraction build, and you slowly went from your hands to your elbows, and stuck your butt out, trying to lean into your pushes.
“HmmmmmmmmMMMMMMMAAAAAHHHH… Haa…. Haa…. HaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAUUUUUGGHHHH… Uhhhh… Uhhhggg… UuuuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!! MOTHERFUUUCKKAAAAAAOOOOOHHHHWWWW!!!!”
You tried to make your first two pushes easy, and the last one hard, but your body wasn’t letting you do that anymore. The first two were really hard, and the last you could only describe as “fucking really fucking hard”. You felt the head crash into your opening, stretching it out agonizingly far. You were probably stuck at the widest point now, all you had to do was wait for the next contraction and you’d have the head out.
“Good job, babe. I can see the head now. I think there’s maybe a nickel sized patch of head visible. A couple more pushes and you’ll start feeling a full crown. Then the real fun part starts”, explained your single audience member.
What? WHAT?! That couldn’t be! Oh noo… Oooooh noooo… You did nothing. You might as well have accomplished nothing! The head was barely visible, and already you felt like you were gonna tear in half. No. No. You can’t continue. You decide it’s better to just wait to die. You won’t push anymore. You can’t. The last one felt like it was gonna kill you. Don’t push. Don’t push. Don’t. Push. This becomes your mantra as the next contraction builds.
“Don’t push. Don’t push. Dooon’t. Puuuushhh.. Haa… Ha… Nooooo…. Puuuushh… Hooooo… Hoooo…. Huuuurgh… Ahhh…. Can’t… Push… Agaaaiin… Huuuurrrtssss…. TOooooo… Muuuuuuhhhh… Ohhhh…Preeeeessuuuure! No! I’mpushingI’mpushingI’mpusuuuushhing! OW! Can’t… puuuuuush… Goooootttaaa… stoooop… Puuushing! Nooooo! Don’t puuuushh… Doooooooon’t… Puuuuuuuush… DOOOOOON’T… PUUUUUUUUUUUSH!!! NO! I’MPUSHINGI’MPUSHINGI’M…. PUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSSSSSHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHH!!! AAAAAAAAOOOW! NOOOOOOOOO!!!!”
You tried. You honestly tried to not push. But, almost as if your body anticipated what you were trying to do, the contraction seemingly wouldn’t stop, the pressure just built, and built, and built, until you couldn’t take it anymore and you pushed! And with the push came the searing pain of the stretching, which would shock you into stopping. Then you’d tried again, but like before, the pressure became too great and you gave in, this time, pushing hard. Really hard. You felt the searing stretch slowly ramp up and up and up until…
You suddenly stopped. You couldn’t take it anymore. And besides, the contraction seemed to end. Your lover -no- captor giggled to you “I know what you’re were thinking; that if you didn’t push, then it won’t hurt as much, right? Wrong. Your body will make you push. And you really do have to push. Normal babies would make progress with a contraction, whether or not the mother pushes. But this one is really big, and your contractions need to be boosted by your pushes to do anything. So, next time, bite the fucking bullet, and push, will ya?”
No! No! No more pushing! It hurts so bad. You steel your resolve. You’ll never push. You’ll never let the baby be born. You will die, and the hurting will stop. Your resolve was never stronger.
“Don’t Push. Don’t Push. Don’tpushdon’tpushdon’tpushdon’tpush! Preeeesssuuuuurreeee…. NOOOOOOO!!!! Don’t. Push. Haa… Haaa… Haaaa… Don’t… Puuuuuuush…Hooo… Hoooooo… HOOOOOO… BREATHE! DOOOOOOOON’T… HAAAA… HAAAAAA… HAAAAAAA!!! PUUUUUUSSSSSHHHHH!!!!”
You were doing it! Or in this case, not doing it. Uh, both maybe? In any case, you weren’t pushing. The pressure was agonizing, and kept building… and building… But you weren’t pushing! You felt the contraction ebb… You did it! Until…
“Haaaa…. Haaaa…. Haaaaaaaaa…. Don’t…. Ha…. Push… Aaaaaaauuugghhh…. AAUUUUUGGHHHH!!!! NOOOOO!!!! PREEEEESSSSSSUUUUUUUGGGHHHHH!!!! I’M PUUUUUUUSSSSSHIIIIIINNNNGGGG!!!!! CAN’T STOP! I’M PUUUUUUUUUUUSSSSSHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!! IT’S OOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUT!!!!!HAAAAA…. Haaaa! Haaa…. It’s out….”
Out of nowhere, another contraction crashed into you. You had no warning, no break, no buildup. It just happened. You wouldn’t even call it a contraction. It was more like your uterus was trying make itself implode. It felt like your womb was constricting so tightly that it was trying to squish its contents until it created nuclear fusion, and let all the pressure explode outwards. Except it didn’t go outwards. It got focused on the opening of your poor, tight little pussy. It got forced open, bulging out hideously. Stretching murderously, tearing open agonizingly, but mercifully letting the baby out, head shoulders, and all… No… Wait… Ooooooohhhh Fuuuuuuckkk! IT HURTS! IT HURTS! WHY DOES IT STILL HURT SO MUCH! OOOOOOOOHHHH FUUUUUUUUUCKKKKK!!!!
And malignantly, your captor answers your question. “It’s out? No, it’s not You’ve nearly got the head to a full crown, but you’ve still got a long way, babe. Though, I understand your confusion. If this was a normal baby, say, seven to eight pounds, you would have the head out by now. I’m amazed you didn’t tear with that last push. That was a monster. But, I can’t have you tearing. So, do me a favor, babe? Absolutely no pushing on your next contraction, kay? Let your body get used to the stretch. Remember your ‘don’t push’ chant? Well. Don’t. Push. If you do… well… You’ll tear… and if you think it hurts now, just wait until then…”
Tear? TEAR?! It hurts this much and you haven’t even torn yet? It could get WORSE?! The thought makes you nauseous. You actually do start dry heaving, and your captor springs up and brings you a bin to throw up in. The convulsions of your stomach seem to start a contraction. You feel it build, mercifully, slowly this time. And you once again steel yourself. Don’t. Push.
“Don’t. Push. Hooo… Hoooooooo… HoooooOOOOOOO… Dooooon’t… Puuuuuuuusssshhhhhh… Preeeeeeesssssuuuuuurrreeee! DOOOOOON’T… HA! HAAAA! HAAAAA! PUUUUUUUSSSSHHHH! AAAAAAAUUUUUGHHH! MOVING! IT’S MOOOOOVING! Uuuuughhh… Gon’tear… GON’TEAR! TEEEEAAAARIIIINNNGGG!!!!”
You didn’t push at all. Even when the pressure built above and beyond that last contraction, you held, and didn’t push. Even when your body started violently trembling and shaking from the pain, you didn’t push. Even when your vision started to go dark around the edges, you held, and didn’t push. But it didn’t matter. The force of the contraction moved the baby anyway. Your opening was stretched as far as possible. To stretch even a millimeter more meant tearing. But still, your baby came… and just as you felt that a tear from your pussy to your ass was imminent, your savior-no- captor slapped one hand to your over-stretched pussy, and braces the other hand against your spine, thus stopping the destruction of your perineum.
“UUUUUUUuuuuuuuhhhhhhggg… Thank…. You… Hoooo… HoooOOOO… HOOOOOO! Contrac…tion… still… going… I… can’t… anymore… gotta… PuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHssshhh… Goooottaaaa… PuUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHssssshhhhh… GOOOOTTAAAA… PUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUGGHHH! NOOOOO!!!!! LET IT COOOOOOOOMMEEE!!!”
The contraction never abated, and you eventually gave in to the insidious pressure. You pushed once. Twice. Three times, each harder and longer than the last. You want it out, now that it’s so close. You want it over and done with. You don’t care about the pain of tearing anymore. The pressure you’ve been enduring must be worse. It has to be. IT HAS TO! But the baby won’t come. You’re pushing as hard as you can, considering what strength you have left. But it’s not… wait. You realize he’s holding it in. You scream at him to let it come out… But you know he won’t. There only thing you can do is…
“Let… It… Come… Out. LEEEEEET… IIIIIIIIT… COOOOOOOOME… OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTTTTTTTTTTTTTT! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGHHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII”
Somehow, you push harder than ever. Probably harder than all of the other pushes combined. So, hard, that your hips start violently shaking. His hands slip, just a little, just enough. The head moves a millimeter… your pussy bulges almost comically out and with a cascade of amniotic fluid and a nearly audible pop, the head squeezes out to its eyes, then ears, then finally, to its chin, letting your pussy elastically snap around its neck like a choker made of your most sensitive slit. As the head rushed forward, your vision went bright white. And mercifully, the pain and pressure causes your consciousness to slip away.
You wake later, how much later, you don’t know. You initially think it’s over, all that pain, pressure, stretching near the end. That means it’s over. Then… as your vision fully clears and you gain more of an awareness of yourself and your surroundings you feel an incessant tug against the stinging, sore, and still moderately stretched, opening of your pussy. And with it, an all too familiar feeling in your womb…
“Come on… Come on… Wake up! Wake up, cunt! You’re not out of the woods yet, bitch. You still gotta squeeze out these shoulders. Come ON! You push, I’ll pull!”
You recognize the voice of your ever-present antagonist. Oh… noo…. It’s not over. He’s right. Even as he says that you start pushing again.
“Uuuuuuuuuuuugh… UuuuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRGHHHH! UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!”
With your pushing, you feel… nothing… The pressure is mounting again, more and more, but you don’t feel any movement besides your ‘assistant’ occasionally lightly pulling one way or another in an effort to get a shoulder to at least start being visible. The pressure is getting worse… The contraction is really starting to ramp up. Your body must know that the ordeal is almost over. But that is no conciliation to you, as you start to panic. It’s nowhere near the level when the head was being forced out, but you can feel the pressure increasing exponentially.
Just when you start another desperate push, when your attendant flipped you on to your back. You cried out in absolute agony the shift in weight made your birth canal stretch in a new way, opening up yet another fresh hell to you. But that wasn’t the worst of it. That… utter… fucking… scum… He waited for the signs of another contraction building, then, he put his hands on the upper swell of your slightly less gravid orb, and pushed down in the direction of your birth canal.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGHH!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!”
You nearly passed out again, the pressure and pain was that intense. What’s worse, is the fuckers little plan worked. You could feel your opening start to stretch again, this time with one of the shoulders. It didn’t come out all the way, unfortunately. It was stuck with the clavicle just barely still inside your pussy. You wanted to curl up and die, the stretch was very nearly worse than the crowning. But it only got worse from there.
“Huh. Well. Looks like you’ll have to tear to get this big kid out. Your hips are wide enough, that’s for sure… but it looks like the limiting factor in this case is your pussy’s ability to stretch. Oh well, can’t be helped.”
What was he doing? Oh God… Oh God no… You felt him somehow twist his fingers between the baby and your overstretched opening. He slowly pulled them down, working them to the lowest point of your perineum, and the most… tearable… point. Then… he slowly, ever so slowly, began to pull them diagonally apart until…
“STOP IT! STOP IT! STOPITSTOPITSTOPIT!!! NOOOOOOO!!! STRETCHING!!!! I’M STREEEEETCHING!!!! NOOOOOOOOO!!! IIII’MMM STREEEEEETCHIIIIING!!!!!! I CAN PUUUUSH IT OUT! LET ME PUUUUUUUSHHH!!!! I CAN PUUUUSH IT OUT! PLEASE!!! LET MEEEEEE PUUUUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIII- TEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAARRRRIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNG! Uuuuuuughhh…”
Farther and farther you stretched. It became obvious to your torturer that indeed, you could push it out, if given enough time. But no, he was growing impatient. He wanted to see his baby now. So, he kept pulling, wrenching, stretching. Slowly, agonizingly slowly… until he saw the barest hint of a tiny tear forming at the base of your perineum. Then he tugged. Hard. And in one instant, that tiny tear ripped through the flesh of your perineum. Down and down it went, until it reached your sphincter… and tore that too. And thus, two holes became one. The pain… the searing, blinding, white-hot pain… of course, you only actually felt so much. You passed out the instant the pain from his hard tug transferred to your brain. It was too much, and once more you slipped from consciousness.
origamiaround
ellievsbear
romaincrisis
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