check my PATREON for more of this ;)
SUMMARY: Ava is set on going to a concert she bought tickets for nine months ago. Except that nine months ago, she wasn't heavily pregnant and about to push a baby out any second. Ava is going to a concert she bought tickets for nine months ago, even if it means holding it in.
TAGS: fpreg, birth kink, graphic birth, birth and labor denial, public birth, nsfw, +18 content
A/N: Hello everyone! Hope you had great holidays and a very happy new year to come! Santa has come… Late. But has come! A small gift for you, an story uploaded sometime on August (or July, it's been a long year!) on my PATREON, now free here on Tumblr and Deviantart ;)
MINORS DNI
Ava paid, literally, a month's worth of groceries to get the ticket to see Jack Juniper.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, the mass phenomenon of the pop singer decided to launch his most important tour to date. She planned it all carefully: Ava made a virtual wait in line of six hours in the online store, fighting and reloading the page every five minutes to get the bloody tickets for her and her best friend, Jaime.
The occasion deserved a celebration. It wasn't every day that they got to see their favorite artist live —the voice of a generation, the mastermind behind the Point in History Tour, which was, indeed, a point in history, an inflection point in the history of music.
Nine months ago, the outfit Ava planned for the concert made way more sense. Now, nine months later, after a careless night… well, it didn’t fit as nicely.
The outfit had been carefully chosen, taking into consideration every single thing: originality, the color palette, how hot she was gonna look.
Was there gonna be anyone else who could be wearing anything remotely like hers? The tour color theme was red. Not a color Ava wasn’t fond of, not her favorite. It made her feel washed out and pale instead of hot. And she couldn't afford not to be the hottest girl in the waiting line.
A custom tight fit tank top that didn't make it past her belly button, covered in glitter and sparkling jewelry (yes, fake, but the expensive kind of fake) from an indie designer her friends had called obnoxious. Beneath the tank top, a red fishnet top. For the lower body, an obscene mini skirt that showed more skin than it covered and red Demonias with a seven-centimeter platform to finish strong.
Nine months ago. Nine months ago, when she tried the outfit on for the first time, it made sense. It made sense, and she looked hot as fuck in it.
Now, the only thing that fit was the fishnet top. The red mesh stretched precariously over the immensity of her now rounded stomach, a gravid orb that rested in front of her and stretched thin the already cheap fabric.
This wasn't exactly how she pictured it. Ava could feel the strain of her whole outfit. One single wrong movement, and it felt as if everything was going to snap out of place.
The only piece of clothing that didn’t have to go under urgent transformations was the fishnet top.
The tank top? She had to buy a new one that would actually fit. One that wouldn't squeeze against her now engorged, sensitive tits, and one that at least aimed to cover something of her stomach. The miniskirt? One of her friends let her borrow a new one that she could actually use and not look like a whale in faux leather.
The only thing she didn't have to change was her makeup look. Still flawless.
Ava finished applying lip gloss, her back screaming in protest as she leaned forward to see herself better in the mirror. Lately, it felt like even just getting her makeup done was a chore. With her whole new
Four hours. Just four more hours, and she was going to be seeing her favorite artist ever, just a few meters away from her. Not just her favorite artist ever, but the best artist ever.
Her parents didn’t understand. Of course, they didn't, but it wasn’t like they had a say on what she did with her own money. She didn’t bust her ass to not use it. It wasn't a surprise when they didn't exactly approve of her going to the concert, well... now. In her last trimester, heavily pregnant and looking like she should be anywhere but a concert.
But Ava saw as one of those babymoons people fawned about. If she had, well, a boyfriend, she probably would have wasted a bunch of money to travel somewhere far away with nice views and outstanding room service to say goodbye to the last moments of freedom before her baby came. But she didn't have no boyfriend. The baby in her gravid stomach was the result of a one-night stand after a night out at the club.
It didn’t bother her. Maybe a bit, at first. With all the nausea and all the slight existential dread about becoming a mother and all the incredibly annoying mood swings. But after a few months, it was as if her body was as resigned as she was about the whole deal and just… accepted it.
When Ava finally could look at herself in the mirror without a whole layer of denial washing over her mind, what she found wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t just the way her tits looked so great and the way her skin glowed. There was something in the way her body was changing, how it was behaving —her hormones were nuts, her brain was a wreck— that would turn her into an uncontrollable mess.
There was not a day spent where she was not thinking about fukcing.
Ava had thought that once she started to show, her sex life was going to be like the Sahara. But quite the opposite happened: men were crazy about it. The night spent at bars drinking soda and virgin piña coladas, where her friends would get wasted and she would just sit around, wasn't a waste because she would always leave with someone clinging to her arm.
And now, to think that this — her huge gravid belly, the way she had dropped— could get in the way of enjoying Jack Juniper's concert was ridiculous.
Her mom had been texting her constantly for the past few days. The last time she saw her parents, they wouldn't shut up about how she looked ready to pop. As if Ava didn't have mirrors at her place. As if she didn't spend the last few weeks going through the motions of everyone wanting to get their hands on her, on her massive stomach, to grope at the tender, stretched skin and comment on how low she was carrying now.
Her parents told her she probably should be at home, nesting or whatever bullshit that was, not at some concert filled to the brim with hormonal teenagers. But she wasn't going to miss this.
In the last few days, everyone seemed to have become a midwife. All of them had an opinion on how she had dropped.
Now, however. Now she had dropped. Ava turned sideways, staring at herself from head to toe.
She sprayed a ton of glitter hair on one side, another ton on the other side. That was gonna be a nightmare to wash off later. The glitter residues flying in the air landed on the exposed skin of her chest, and she didn't bother to clean them up. Her tits looked great. And lower…
Her stomach hung in front of her, the skin of her underbelly peeking from beneath the strained fabric that worked hard to cover it. If she stared for too long, she was sure she could see past the stretch marks and the raw red of her stomach, and point exactly where the baby was positioned. And if she couldn't see it, she could feel it: a low weight settled on her hips. The past few days, this baby had done nothing but settle on her pelvis and threaten to move down, ready to come out.
Her phone buzzed in the drawer. Jaime's name popped up on the screen, accompanied by the 'I‘m here' text.
Ava's body froze in place as she reached to grab her phone. A numb pain took over her stomach, muscles tensing and forcing her to stop in place, hand extended in the air to reach for her phone, and Ava exhaled a strained breath.
Her free hand moved to press against the side of her stomach: the muscle beneath was rock hard, and Ava shifted her weight from one foot to the other, letting out a small whimper as the pain went away. "God. Braxton Hicks, huh."
The pain finally went away. She checked the time on the wall clock. Texted Jaime to come in. Checked the time again. This was the third or the fourth in the last few hours —she wasn't counting. Or timing them. Or anything because this couldn't be the real deal.
At least not today. Not when she was about to go to the fucking concert of her life. This baby was gonna have to wait.
She finished applying the last of the glitter to the top of her hair as Jaime popped into her bedroom.
“So,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “Are you ready?”
The greeting was a bit tricky as Jaime leaned in to kiss her cheek. It was already hard to move around Ava's bedroom, even harder to do anything near her without bumping into her gravid stomach.
Jaime did a little twirl to show her his outfit: red tank top and red leather jeans. There was a small pang of envy in Ava's stomach at the fact that even Jaime could still wear a tank top — that he could still show off a flat stomach instead of... well, a nine-month pregnant belly.
“How are they?” Jaime asked, pointing at her stomach.
“Fine. Just coming and going, you know. I didn't bother timing them. They're just irregular.” She shrugged, moving to grab her bag. “They feel like... I don't know, like normal cramps, but really annoying. Don't worry about it, my mom told me that she was in labor for twenty-four hours with me.”
“God damn,” Jaime raised his eyebrows, applying lip gloss in front of the mirror. “Sounds like hell.”
“I'm sure it can wait,” she said. “At least until mommy sees Jack fucking Juniper live.”
Ava sighed, her hand moving to rub over the mound of her stomach, her thumb brushing over the fishnets as she stared down at herself. Her attempt to soothe the taut skin and the tired muscles was in vain, because no matter what she did, she couldn't shake off the discomfort of being so huge, so gravid, so pregnant. Full of a baby that didn't seem to want to make it any easier for her.
If she could, she would have joined Jaime to jump in excitement like a teen. Instead, she had to conform by holding his hands while he jumped and squealed.
This baby was gonna have to wait.
Ava didn't remember Jaime's car being this… cramped. It wasn't exactly a minivan for a suburban mom who had to take the kids to soccer practice, but she remembered there were times when they had fit more than four people without a problem.
Now, Ava felt cramped. So cramped. Against Jaime's complaining, she pulled the seat back as far as it went, but still. She felt like she was trapped in the passenger seat, her gravid body wedged against the seating, contorted in the most awkward position. Her hips ached just from sitting down with the weight of her stomach pressing down, legs spread apart to let it hang between her thighs. Ava spent most of the ride switching positions, moving right and left, feeling the sweat build up, feeling as if her outfit was shrinking on her in real time.
She counted three more Braxton Hicks on the way to the stadium.
If she didn't know better, she would have worried. But her eyes were fixated on the car clock every time her stomach tightened and relaxed, never following a pattern, contraction after contraction. Just an irregular and annoying pain that would make her squirm in place.
But if she could still pretend that everything was just fine, then it couldn't be that serious, right? Just Braxton Hicks. Practice ones. The real deal wasn't it yet.
Her mom said that she would know when a real contraction hit.
They were approaching the stadium when Jaime turned down the radio.
All they could see in front of them was a huge line of cars. After that, already piling up at the outside of the stadium, crowds of people buzzing with excitement, the faint sounds of their commotion.
“Shit.” Ava sighed, hips shifting on her seat. Now we gotta find somewhere to park."
She wasn't sure if the swearing was because of the prospect of waiting or because of the way she felt like she couldn't sit still for much longer. Ava spread her legs even further, letting out a breath as she rubbed the side of her stomach, trying to soothe the throb. There was pressure. A lot of pressure. It was getting harder and harder to just sit still, pressure building up in her pelvis and forcing her to shift her hips, trying to lift them from the seat, trying to escape the feeling of the baby's head moving lower.
She still had time. She still had time. She still had time.
As they got closer, she realized that actually there weren't as many people as they thought. They had decided to try and come as early as possible to get the best view possible, it wasn't like they weren't expecting people to show up at a massive show, but the decision of coming early was made nine months ago by normal Ava and not heavily pregnant Ava.
Just the idea of sliding in there, surrounded by crowds of people, bodies and hands bumping around her and her stomach, the claustrophobic heat of people, it wasn't exactly a dream.
Ava held her breath when her stomach tensed. She shifted on her seat, one of her hands moving to press against her stomach, sliding towards her underbelly to lift slightly, and she gripped at the seat. She looked down to see the taut, tense skin under the red fishnets moving and contracting, and she swallowed.
Just breathe. She just had to breathe. Her thumb started to brush soothing circles on her underbelly, trying to keep her breathing steady as she pretended to look outside the window. The pain didn't go away immediately, as she expected. Which could mean nothing. Because she was still having just Braxton Hicks.
“You good?” Jaime asked, eyes looking away from the road for a split second.
“Yeah. Just… another cramp.”
“Still Braxton Hicks, right?”
Yeah. Yes. Of course. What else would it be? On this day, at this moment, Ava was not going to allow
anything else but Braxton Hicks. She wasn't having this baby today. Not before the bloody show.
“Yeah. Just…” she squirmed again, letting out an exhale. “It's hot in here.”
By the time Jaime finally found a parking spot, the pain in her stomach had disappeared, leaving behind just the uncomfortable feeling of being full. The engine turned off just as Ava realized how tense she was. Her whole body was stiff, shoulders tense and jaw taut as her hand rested protectively over her stomach, the weight of her stomach pressing down on her closed legs —she didn't even realize when she pressed them together, almost as if she didn't even realize she was trying to keep something in.
God, all of this was becoming so uncomfortable. If she spent one more minute inside this car, she was going to explode. Ava swallowed, checked her reflection in the rearview mirror, and pretended to fix her hair. She looked like someone who was about to pop.
Ava exhaled any kind of thought about that when Jaime slid out of the car. With a groan, she did the same. One of her hands moved to grip the open door, and the other to support the underside of her stomach. One, two, three and… fucking up.
God, even that was tiring. She missed the point where all the mundane became almost impossible. It never felt any easier to get used to carrying all that extra weight.
The door closed behind her with a thud, one of her hands still holding her stomach for support as her body protested from the stiff muscles after sitting down. Ava turned around to stare at herself in the reflection of the window glass. She forced herself to wipe off the frown on her face and breathe out.
“Oh,” Ava gasped, eyes going wide shut as she stared at her own reflection. “Oh. Ugh…fuck.”
She leaned forward, using one of her hands to hold the car ceiling, leaning her weight into it. Her fingertips pressed against the warm metal, staring at her face bending into a grimace as the hardening on her stomach turned into a sharp pain taking over her middle. Shit. Ava swallowed, trying to keep her breathing as even as possible, as Jaime checked his phone next to her. This wasn't happening. She wasn't about to go into fucking full-blown labor.
Jaime said something, some complaining about the people or the heat or the waiting line. Ava nodded. She wasn't really listening.
Her mother's words echoed in her head: she would know when a contraction hit. And this was a contraction. And the only thing she could do right now was pray this baby would wait.
It turned out that being heavily pregnant in the middle of one of the most crowded events of the year did have some benefits.
She could feel the weight of people's stares on them —on her— as they walked past the people. The way they looked at Jaime, then at her, then lower: eyes stopping at the sight of her massive middle, going wide at the huge stomach wrapped in red fishnets, barely contained by the tiniest tank top. They stared at the way she couldn't stand fully straight, as if her own weight was crumbling her down, how she looked a bit too tight, a bit too pregnant.
She could feel her face heat up when she thought that they thought how she looked was just a few steps away from having that baby fall out of her.
Which, technically, wasn't exactly not true.
The benefits? Yeah, that the people who weren't total assholes would let them skip in line. Jaime was delighted when the people in front of them started to move, clearing the way to let them get ahead, and he wrapped his arm around hers and dragged her forward, too fast, too eager, enough to make her wince at the sole movement.
They didn't get exactly next to the door, but close enough. Just thinking about the walk back to the car afterwards, tho, felt like hell. Her feet were killing her already.
If she did make it to the end of this concert.
Because even when they were just next to the door, just a few hours away from the gates opening and with time passing as quickly as it could —and Ava would know, because she was checking the time every few minutes— she couldn't force a smile on her face. Not when the discomfort was growing by the second she stood there, when she couldn't shake off the idea that people were staring at her, at her gravid body as the contractions that would take over her stomach were now settling into a pattern, slowly but surely.
A pattern that started as a few sharp pains on her stomach, to a throb on her lower back that would travel to her hips and force her to squirm in place, her hands wrapping around the base of her stomach as she rubbed the taut skin, feeling the weight of the baby inside moving lower. She was sure that her lipstick looked gross because of how much she had been biting her lips.
The cramps were innocuous, harmless enough to let Ava force herself to believe that they were just the result of being standing there under the sun and surrounded by a crowd, to let her believe that she could make it. That she still was in to enjoy the night of her life. Enough to pretend in front of Jaime that everything was ok, to bite her lip and suck her breath every time the pain would take over, biting back whimpers.
Ava shifted, one of her hands gripping her bag and the other moving to rest on her lower back. She exhaled, feeling the weight of her stomach in front of her pulling her forward, and her fingers pressed in against the sore muscles of her back. The baby felt low. Low enough that it was starting to get more and more and more annoying to just stand. No matter how much she shifted or changed her weight from one foot to another, her legs always ended up forced spread open and her back arched, belly protruding forwards.
Every time she would become slightly aware of her body, Ava could feel the weight of the baby deeply nestled on her hips, and it felt as if it was slowly moving. Shifting, moving down. And she hated how slowly, but surely, the thought of pushing was nagging at the back of her mind.
The feeling that was starting to buzz in her stomach wasn't a contraction; it was the certainty that her body was telling her she was going to need to start pushing soon.
But her water hadn't broken yet, and of course, it all —the contractions, the pressure—could be nothing. Nothing but the strain of being this pregnant in this heat, standing for hours on end. She could have brought one of those pathetic folding chairs if she didn't insist on pretending, pretty much, that she wasn't a beached whale.
A drop of sweat moved down her neck towards her chest, losing itself on her cleavage. Once again, Ava hadn't realized how tense she was. How tightly she was carrying herself. As if she relaxed just for a second, her whole body would give in.
Ava breathed in, and her stomach shifted in front of her as she exhaled. She swallowed. Looked around.
People kept shooting looks at her, not at her, but at her body— at the low-hanging massive stomach in front of her, at the way her legs were slowly but surely getting forced apart in the past few hours as the baby's head descended in her pelvis.
She forced herself to stand straight, body screaming under the stiffness of her new position.
“Jaime,” she called, nails gripping at the hem of her bag.
A sharp pain took over her stomach, stealing the words straight from her lips. She sucked in a breath, biting the inside of her mouth to not fucking lose it. Shit. Shit. Shit. She breathed out, slowly, a low hum in her throat threatening to become a pathetic whimper as the muscles of her stomach cramped.
Thank god Jaime was too busy scrolling on his phone. If he wasn't, if he was paying any attention at her, Ava was sure that she would have crumbled and would have spitted out that she was in fucking labor and that they needed to go now if he diodn¡'t wanted her to have this baby in his car.
But Jaime's eyes remained fixed on his phone, and that split second that Ava had to relax the muscles of her face and pretend the head of the baby wasn't moving lower on her birth canal was enough to make up her mind. She wasn't going to miss this concert.
“Mhm?” he finally looked up. “You good?”
“Yes. Yeah,” Ava hissed through gritted teeth, looking away. “What time is it?”
“Ten past seven,” he sighed. “God, this is taking forever. But I mean, it's just two more hours."
“Just two more hours,” Ava repeated, nodding, forcing a smile onto her face.
Jaime raised his eyebrows at the suddenly positive output of his friends. Positive wasn't exactly the word she would use, more like hopeful. Hope that this baby will wait. That she could hold it in. She wasn't so sure.
The sun was starting to settle when Ava realized that she fucked up.
While the mosquitoes bit the exposed skin of their bodies and the excited murmur of the crowd started to die, Ava fucking despised how now suddenly they were quiet. That everyone was quietly busy on their phones. When she could have used some noise. Anything that could mask the way her breath turned into involuntary gasps each time a contraction would take over her. Contractions. Because she was having contractions— not cramps, contractions.
Ava realized she fucked up now, when her contractions were coming too fast, too soon, too consistent. Ava realized that her moment to quit was like... an hour ago.
She was becoming increasingly… desperate. That was the word: desperation. Desperation was slowly settling like a stone in the middle of her chest. She was desperate. Desperate for the stupid stadium to finally open the gates. Desperate they could get inside and see the fucking show start. Desperate to slide off these tight clothes. Desperate to be able to hold this baby in until the end. God, to think that she laughed when her mother talked about it, and now she was desperate to have a long labor. Maybe that meant that this baby would wait as much as he needed to.
It didn't feel like it. She could barely stand straight now, almost bent over herself, hands gripping at both sides of her stomach, the feeling of the head of the baby so, so low. It couldn't be right, could it? This whole thing was supposed to be slower. She read somewhere that first-time moms usually had long labors. This whole thing was supposed to let her enjoy the last moment of freedom she had before becoming a full-time mother.
“You sure you're good? You look kinda pale."
Jaime's voice snapped her out of her misery for a moment. She realized how bad she looked: almost hugging her stomach, legs spread awkwardly, and face twisted in a strained scowl.
“Yeah,” Ava lied, fixing herself. “Just…”
She looked around. It felt as if the crowd of people were closing around them. Her eyes were jumping from the people around her to the security to anything that could help her in this moment until they landed on the public restrooms, the plastic green cubicles that stood near the waiting line.
Just by looking at them, she could smell them. But there were no waiting lines there.
“I gotta use the bathroom,” she said, pointing at the porta-potty with her head. “Hold my things for a moment.”
As she handed Jaime her bag, he grimaced.
“You sure you can't hold it in?” He said, “I don't know if I would trust those bathrooms.”
Funny. She almost laughed at his choice of words. She wasn't sure she could hold it in; that was kinda the whole deal.
The pain of the contraction taking over her stomach didn't let her reply. Ava tightened her jaw, eyes focused on a point behind Jaime before she looked away, letting out a quiet groan as her fingers dug at the base of her stomach, nails scraping at the fishnet fabric.
“No, I can't-” she exhaled, shaking her head. “I really gotta go. I'll be back.”
Before Jaime could reply, Ava was already turning around. It felt almost impossible to walk as the explosion of pain took over her middle like thunder, each step was hell as she forced herself to walk through it. Her stomach was rock hard beneath the palms of her hands as Ava bit her lip. There was a scream trapped at the back of her throat as she kept taking slow and steady steps towards the bathroom stall.
“Fuck,” she hissed, eyes focused on the plastic stall. “Fuck, please, just…”
She wasn't sure exactly who she was talking to. If god or her body or the baby inside of her, but she was ready to thank all the heavens when she finally managed to get to the door and open it. Her stomach was still rock hard as Ava barged herSelf inside the claustrophobic space, the smell of cheap soap and something else—something more disgusting—almost made her gag.
She barely managed to turn around and lock the door with the very not trustworthy-looking plastic latch. The first thing she did as soon as the door was secure was to let out a loud whimper, her hands reaching the door to keep herself steady. Ava's legs trembled, and she leaned forward, her stomach hanging beneath her in the cramped space.
“Ughn…” she moaned, knuckles turning white as he gripped the door handle, resting her forehead against her arm. “Shit. No, please no…”
The contraction didn't go away. Ava was too aware of everything, of the pain in her middle, the smell and the heat and the feeling of the baby so, so low inside of her, the way she could barely fit inside the stupid confined space without her stomach hitting something each time she tried to move or—
a gush of water trickled from between her legs.
Her eyes snapped open. Ava lifted her forehead from her arm to look between her legs, staring at the growing puddle of amniotic fluid forming at her feet. Her boots were slowly getting covered in drops of liquid. Thank god for the stupid skirt.
“Ughn, no! I can't believe–" Ava breathed, eyes still staring in disbelief between her feet. “Shit. Holy shit. My fucking water just broke...”
A long whimper escaped her lips as the contraction finally went away, water still leaking from between her legs. God, this baby was coming.
One of her hands slid beneath the fabric of her skirt, lifting the fabric up as she pressed her fingers against the fabric of her soaked panties. The fabric stuck to her skin, and god, she couldn't catch a breath, could she?
Fuck. She couldn't stay like this. Thank god she wasn't wearing pants, she couldn't have dissimulated the wet spot on her groin.
Ava managed to move backwards in the minuscule space, hitting the toilet, and lifted her skirt up, enough to reach for her wet panties and pull them down, squirming with a gasp to try and get out of them. She couldn't keep them on.
“Shit…” she breathed, one hand gripping at the door as she leaned forward to take her own panties off. “Ugh…”
It was hard to do anything with that stomach getting in the way, even worse in the minuscule square she was in. She had to focus. She had to control herself because, right now, she had worse things to worry about.
She stared at her underwear for a second: red, nice, pretty lace covered in amniotic fluid. She threw them in the trash can.
Fuck. Another whimper escaped Ava's mouth, not because of a contraction, but because of the sudden discomfort that washed over her. It all felt wrong. From the way her sensitive tits were trapped against the tight fabric of her tank top, to the scratchy feeling of the fishnets over the taut skin of her contracting stomach, to the restrictive feeling of the miniskirt, the way the fabric clung to her hips. It was all too much. The feeling of the baby's head moving lower on her birth canal, threatening to split her pussy open was too much.
Someone knocked on the other side of the door.
Ava panted. She brushed the sweat off her face with the back of her hands and carefully stepped out. She didn't look back when the next person went in, but she did hear when they walked out immediately and moved to the next stall.
She swore people were staring at her as she made her way back to the line. She wondered if it was because of the way her walk had turned into a pathetic waddling, or because of the way her stomach seemed to get even lower in the past few hours, or because, somehow, they knew she was trying to hold this baby in. Trying to drive her mind away from the need to push that was starting to creep into her mind.
Ava stared at the time on her phone. Then, at the gates in front of them. Then back at her phone.
Just twenty minutes. They were just twenty minutes until they opened the doors, just twenty minutes away from the hundreds of people waiting out there, going into the stadium like animals following the smell of blood.
She wasn't sure what exactly was what made her still stand there, next to Jaime, with her legs pressed together —as much as she could actually close them— trying to pretend that her contractions weren't coming one almost behind the other now, trying to remain as quiet as possible each time her stomach tensed, each time the baby inside of her moved down. If it was the need to prove something to someone, or just the pure need to prove it to herself, that this baby was not going to ruin the night for her. The pure stubbornness to try and bend biology and her own body to show it who was the boss— because the boss wanted to go to this stupid concert she waited nine fucking months to go to.
Or maybe it was the idea that if she pretended it wasn't happening, then it wasn't. If she tried to ignore the contractions, then maybe the baby wouldn't keep moving lower. Then maybe she wouldn't feel the urge to push.
If she ignored the way the baby of the head was moving down her birth canal, the massive weight that was forcing her to spread her legs open, then it wouldn't happen that it would finally reach her pussy and force her to bear down and crown.
But Ava was set on holding this baby in. As much as she could. She was sure that if she reached between her legs, if she slid her fingers past the tight fabric of her skirt and towards her naked pussy, she wouldn't find that she was dilated enough to start pushing. That couldn't be, at all. Not before Jack Juniper.
One of the gates opened. Ava felt her whole body tremble with adrenaline —or it might as well have been just the strain of trying to stop the baby from moving down— and her eyes went wide as she stared at one of the security people coming out. Then, they closed the door behind them.
The crowd let out a sigh behind her. In front of her, Jaime muttered something that soudned like I cant fucking belive it. She wasn't quite listening.
All of her focus was on the contraction that was taking over her stomach right now. She was sure that if anyone would turn and look at her, they would have realized there was something fundamentally wrong with the heavily pregnant woman in the line. They would have realized that she looked like a woman right about to push a baby right there any minute.
“God, not now…” she muttered to herself. “Please. Not. Now. Just wait.”
She closed her eyes. Breathed in. Her fingers gripped at the base of her contracting stomach, teeth sinking on her lips as she buried a long moan at the back of her throat.
She could wait twenty minutes.
Ten minutes. Just ten minutes. That only meant two sets of five minutes each, and even less, four sets of two and a half minutes. Nothing at all.
Except that now Ava was fighting with claws and teeth, the urge to push. Urge, not warning. Ava was long past the warning.
Her body wasn't gently and lovingly encouraging her to push. It was screaming at her that this baby was coming whether she liked it or not, and it was coming soon.
It felt as if her stomach was just going through one big contraction, the muscles tense and the skin taut under her hands. And the pressure. God, there was so much pressure and Ava could barely stand straight without feeling like this baby was just about to fall right out of her.
She was trying so hard to just hold it in. She just…she just had to not push. Hold it in. Keep this damn baby in until the stupid concert finished. Rather an ambitious goal.
Specially when she was sure that if she slid her fingers past the tight fabric of her skirt and towards her naked pussy, if she slid a finger inside of her, she would feel the top of the head right behind her pussy lips, bulging her pussy as it moved down against her will. That was how close this baby felt.
But that couldn't happen before this stupid concert, could it?
It felt like it really didn't matter what she wanted, because her body was making all the choices. Because her body was still pushing even when she pressed her legs so tightly close together, and this baby was moving lower and lower.
And she had to push. She was praying to every single god she could remember to please just open the fucking gates.
Five minutes felt like an eternity when you're trying not to push a baby out. But there she was, still standing.
Wasn't there a song that went like that? Fuck. Ava was forcing her brain to scatter itself everywhere, anywhere. To focus on anything, from the impatient chanting of the people surrounding her to the way the stars looked, to the sounds coming from inside the stadium, anything but the feeling of the pressure growing between her legs.
And still, beneath all that, the urge to push was the last thing her mind landed on. That and the feeling that she couldn't stand straight anymore.
If the situation were different, the sounds of the faint music coming from inside would have made her jump in excitement and scream like everyone else, but now.
Now Ava could feel herself leaning forward, her thighs trembling as her eyes went wide. She was pushing. She could feel her body pushing and forcing the baby down. Fuck. Fuck. God fucking no she was pushing.
It was primal, desperate, and there was nothing Ava could do to stop it. Not when she couldn't even keep her legs pressed together to keep the baby from moving any lower. She just couldn't hold it in any longer.
A low groan escaped her throat as Ava gritted her teeth, one of her hands gripping the base of her stomach and digging her nails into the tense muscle. The other, in a desperate movement, reached forward to grip Jaime's arm.
The boy startled, turning to face Ava. For a moment, his eyes landed on Ava's face, and she could see the exact moment when he actually processed what he was seeing.
“You feeling good?” Jaime asked, tentatively.
Did she look fucking good?
“Jaime,” Ava breathed, fingers tightening around Jaime's forearm. Her words were clipped and tight, the pain barely letting her speak. “Listen, I– fuck, Jaime…god. My water broke.”
Jaime's eyes went wide open. Then, his face contorted in panic as he looked down at the floor.
“No, not- ughn…not now. Earlier. In the bathroom,” Ava moaned, letting out an exhale. “I… fuck, I'm in labor.”
Well, admitting it out loud didn't feel like she expected. It didn't make anything better. It didn't make the feeling of the head starting to spread her pussy lips open go away.
“Yes, right fucking now. Be quiet.”
“Fuck. Fuck. Should we… we gotta go.”
Yeah, that would have been the sensible thing to do. An hour ago.
“No, fuck no.” Ava shook her head, huffing out another breath. “I just- I can hold it in. I just gotta relax. They're about to open the doors anytime now-”
Jaime looked at her, then looked at his phone and the gates in front of them. Ava's hand was still gripping his forearm, and she was leaning her weight against him. Well, she did look like someone who needed to relax. Preferably in a hospital bed with an epidural.
“I gotta try,” the girl whined, trying to stand straight. “I just…gotta try. We're getting in soon.”
She just had to try. God, she wanted to try. But her body clearly had other plans.
She was pushing. Against her desire not to believe it, under the disbelief in Jamie's eyes, she was pushing.
Ava bit her lip, fingers tightening around Jaime's arm. Her face was blank, her eyes focused on a point behind her friend, and her lower lip as she tried to focus. On fighting against the way her body was forcing this baby down her birth canal, each movement of her body felt like it was forcing the head down, forcing it out.
Shit. This baby was coming.
“Oh god…” Ava muttered, a low whimper escaping her lips. “Oh god. Fuck me. Please not now..”
Jaime still stared at her, eyes wide and going from her to the rest of the crowd.
Shame. Shame was one of the things she felt. Shame of having a baby about to crown between her legs. Of being here, just a few seconds away from pushing her baby out in front of this crowd of strangers, just a few seconds from not filling a lifelong dream of, well, going to this stupid concert.
“Jaime,” she interrupted him. “Just- don't -.”
She tried to force something that made sense out of her mouth, something that could still be a battle cry about how she wasn't about to give in, to just bear down and push. But she couldn't speak. She couldn't speak, and before she realized she was gripping Jaime's arm and slowly lowering her body, her legs trembling as they gave in, Ava lowered herself into a half squat.
She moaned. She didn't intend to, but she did, letting escape past her lips a loud, pitiful moan she couldn't control.
“No, no, no!” She whimpered, shaking her head no as her legs trembled. “Oh, god, no!”
Both because indeed, her body was pushing, and she could feel the head moving lower, starting to to split her pussy lips open, and because security finally was opening the stupid gates.
A loud cry escaped her lips when she finally pushed. Against her will, but she pushed. In all of the places, in all of the moments in this day that this could happen, it was right before she was seconds away from fucking getting into the concert that she waited probably, her whole life for.
She was so close. So close to getting in. But she could feel her pussy stretching open around the head of the baby.
She pushed — she couldn’t help it. Her eyes shut as her stomach contracted. She squatted lower, the muscles of her legs on fire as her skirt rode up and her body contorted. Ava could feel the air hitting the exposed skin of her pussy and her thighs, wet by the burst of amniotic fluid that escaped her. She could feel the head moving lower, the mass splitting her pussy open, her lips stretching around the rounded shape. With her effort, the head moved down fast.
“Ughnn, it’s coming!” Ava moaned, legs trembling as the head started to crown between her legs. “Fuck, it’s coming out, now! Jaime, I- owghn. I can’t hold it in!”
Almost as if her body was only waiting for her cooperation to get this baby out. It all was happening too fast, the head splitting her open, a ball of black hair covered in fluids peeking from her bulging pussy lips.
Around her, the people were rushing in. Running past them to get inside the open gates of the stadium. A few small groups of people were, as she feared, staring. If Ava looked up, she was sure she would see the horrified looks of people on her: at the tense, gravid stomach hanging in front of her, at her squatting in front of the open gates in the middle of a concert, with a baby about to crown between her legs.
Some people watched, fascinated by the horror of seeing this woman giving birth right there.
Others had pulled their smartphones out and were filming. Most of them were still running inside,
waves of people trying to get in. They were supposed to be one of them. But she was giving birth.
“Argh!” Ava whimpered, shaking her head. “Oh, god, the head–” she bit her lips, legs trembling as she pushed again. “The head’s coming out…! It burns!”
She pushed. One of the biggest contractions yet took over her as Jaime shouted at security people that were coming their way —probably something about calling 911— but Ava was too focused on pushing. The head crowned with a gush between her legs, poking from beneath her skirt. She was crowing, her pussy stretching open around the head. God, she couldn’t believe she was giving birth now.
“Please, no, no, no..!” Ava cried, hissing as the head of her baby dangled between her legs. “Ughn…!”
Inside the stadium, people were screaming. Shouting, singing, lost in the wave of excitement as the show started. Outside, right there, Ava was screaming as she let go of Jaime’s arm to move to catch the baby that slid out of her with a gush.
As the baby started to bawl in her arms, she could hear the people inside the stadium shouting. It sounded like they were having the time of their lives.
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