PreggoPushes

“Hi, my name is Sarah. I’m twenty-six, single, and honestly? I’m pretty cute. I’ve got the bouncy, curly-blonde thing going on, a top-tier ass, a great smile, and breasts that recently underwent an upgrade. I’ve always figured my perennially single status was due to my high expectations for men,  or my “attitude problem,” if you ask my mother, rather than my actual looks. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

Lately, though, it might be something else entirely.

Those growing breasts? A heavy C-cup now. They’re also leaky, milky, and ready-to-feed-a-human mom boobs, or as I’m now calling them, “moobs.”  Because yeah, I’m nine months pregnant. “Full term,” according to my OBGYN. I’ve got the beachball belly, swollen ankles, and completely unhinged hormones to prove it.

My water broke last night, so right now, I’m mid-contraction in a hospital room, bantering with two men who are neither my husband nor my boyfriend. One of them, however, did provide the sperm for the baby currently trying to bulldoze his way out of my once-cute, once-tight, once-pretty little vajayjay. And even though I shaved my kitty two nights ago, knowing I’d be spreading my legs for strangers soon, I’m not exactly primo dating material at the moment.

I shift, trying to ease the deep, grinding cramp seizing my uterus, and lean over the back of a blue vinyl hospital chair. I’m laboring upright, resisting the urge to lie down and rest. My doula said gravity would help things progress, and at this point I’ll try anything to get this hell over with. Though honestly, my biggest grievance right now isn't my cervix trying to rip itself open, it’s this tragic hospital gown.

It’s a depressing pastel green with tiny umbrellas, and it does absolutely nothing for my complexion. I’m about to do the most powerful, feminine thing imaginable, and I look like a sad, pastel blimp. So much for my dream of the perfect, Insta-worthy delivery photos.

Another contraction comes, squeezing my midsection like a boa constrictor. I crush the paper cup in my left hand, ice chips scattering across the floor, while my right hand clamps down on Mark’s fingers like a vise.

Mark, my best friend, doesn’t even flinch. He just flexes his forearm and lets me try to break his fingers. Solid, steady, unshakable. Which is good, because his husband is spiraling.

“Breathe, Sarah! Like this: Hee-hee-hoo! Hee-hee-hoo!” Lucas flutters at my side. He’s in a designer sweater, tight jeans, and full panic mode. He’s swaying back and forth and fanning his face like he’s the one trying to push a watermelon out of an exit that, keeping with the food analogies, struggles to take a grocery store cucumber. 

Don’t judge. Sometimes a girl has to be creative.

“Lucas,” I wheeze, glaring at him. “My uterus is evicting a nine-pound squatter, YOUR SQUATTER, and if you ‘hee-hee-hoo’ at me one more time, I am going to rip this itchy fetal monitor belt off my preggo belly and use it to throttle you.”

The monitor’s beeping finally slows, and the contraction eases, giving me a much-needed break. I straighten a little, blowing out a long breath, trying to look pretty in this terrible gown while swaying my hips like my doula taught me. The little dance is supposed to help me “open up,” which, trust me, feels exactly as horrible as it sounds.

Mark steps in, handing me a fresh cup of ice and shooting Lucas an exasperated but affectionate look. “He watched an unedited labor video last night,” Mark says, his voice calm and deep. “He’s having a full-blown crisis about female anatomy.”

“Excuse me, I have a right to be traumatized!” Lucas snaps, hand to his chest. “Look, I’m a professional bottom, and Mark is… well hung. So I thought I understood stretching. I thought I respected stretching. But whatever that was? That was something else entirely.”

Mark smirks, reaching up to rub the back of Lucas’s neck. “You do take me like a champ, baby. I just hope bringing our baby home doesn’t change things in our bedroom.”

A hot blush creeps up my neck, briefly distracting me from the ache in my pelvis. “Okay, gross. Stop. Boundaries. Also, jealousy. You’re probably having a hundred times more sex than me.”

Lucas grins, already loading his comeback.

 “Oh, absolutely,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not a slut, Sarah.”

I give him a slow, deliberate nod. Honestly, I love the guy. Inappropriate banter is our love language.

"Takes one to know one, hun," I shoot back, unfazed.

Mark lightly punches his husband’s shoulder. "Be nice," he commands. "She’s our hero today. And every day."

“Fine,” Lucas sighs. “Sorry, Princess Sarah.”

"But I'm just saying," he expounds, eyes wide, "a whole human is going to come out of you…down there? It's going to be like a stargate opening to another dimension!"

I roll my eyes, but I’m grinning.  “Wow. Thank you, Lucas. Truly. Thank you for comparing Mark stretching out your ass with his penis to me pushing an actual baby out of my vagina for you two.”

I gesture towards my big, round belly. “Can your stomach grow a human, Lucas? Can your man-ass deliver one? No? Then maybe you should bow down to the fairer sex, because, yeah…my damned vagina is a freakin’ stargate."

Lucas looks highly amused by my sass, his panic softening into something genuine. “If I could have Mark’s baby, I would in a heartbeat.”

“I know you would, Lucas,” I say, my voice softer now. “And since you can’t, I’m happy to do it for both of you.”

And then it hits.

A fresh wave of pressure clamps down on my belly, stealing the air from my lungs. I freeze, bracing hard against the chair, fingers digging into the vinyl.

“naaaaah… ah… fuck…”

The sound slips out before I can stop it. My body folds forward, hips rocking instinctively as the contraction tightens.

I try to breathe through it, fail, then force it out in shaky bursts.

 “hh… hh… haah… hh… haah… oh—geez…”

My eyes squeeze shut. A low groan builds in my chest.

 “naaaahhh…”

It finally starts to ease. I sag forward, breathless, damp hair sticking to my face.

“Thanks, Lucas,” I pant, letting out a weak, delirious laugh as I glance at Mark.

“Mmmm… hhoooooo… yeah, this is exactly the conversation every girl wants while her cervix is trying to dilate to the size of a cantaloupe. hh… hh… ahh.”

Looking at Mark now, it’s hard to reconcile the macho, slightly terrified expectant father with the goofy kid who used to play in the street outside my bedroom window.

He moved in next door when we were seven and I harbored a massive secret crush on him for years. He grew up tall and handsome, and I spent all of seventh grade charting our astrological compatibility in sparkly gel pen like it was a legal contract.

He was the very first boy I ever kissed. We were thirteen, behind his dad’s shed. It was awkward, toothy and so clumsy. That turned into two years of experimenting together, so when Lucas calls me a slut, yeah… I don’t exactly argue. I started early.

My dream romance came to a crashing end when we were fifteen. We were down in his basement watching a movie. I was hoping for a french-kiss. I had spent an hour picking the right lip gloss, thinking it would be the ticket to getting some tongue action.

Then a locker room scene came on. The lead actor’s bare ass hit the screen, and I glanced over.

The look on Mark’s face told me everything.

A month later, he came out to me and from that moment we were closer than ever. We picked colleges close to each other, moved to Charlotte after graduation, and built our lives side by side. He became a wildly overpaid finance bro, I joined an architecture firm. We’ve survived a lot together.

Which is how I ended up here. In a hospital room. In labor. Delivering his baby.

The bang of the door shatters my daydream, and a nurse with entirely too much energy strides in.

 “Hey y’all, Sue just went off shift, so I’m your new L and D nurse. I’m Tina.” Her eyes flick between the monitors and my chart. “Looks like those contractions are picking up.”

“No kidding,” I mutter, my grip tightening on the chair as another wave starts to build.

It hits fast.

“nnnah… ah—ahh… shit.”

My fingers clamp down hard, knuckles whitening as the pressure surges through my abdomen.

“Oh yeah, that’s a big one,” Tina says, way too cheerfully.

“Okay, okay, you’ve got this,” Lucas says, stepping in closer, his voice softer now, steadier. “Just breathe.”

Mark is instantly at my side. “I’m right here, Sarah. You’re doin’ so good.”

I don't even have the breath to throw a sarcastic comment at either of them. There’s a perfect comeback somewhere in my brain, but I can’t reach it. The contraction is already overwhelming me. 

I grit my teeth, fingers tightening around the chair as the pressure builds, low and heavy. It feels like everything inside me is shifting, forcing its way downward whether I’m ready or not.

“Mm… nnnah. Okay… hahhhhhh… okay…” I try, the words breaking apart as I exhale.

My knees wobble, and I have to lock them to stay upright. The sensation isn’t just pain anymore. It’s pressure. Huge, overwhelming, impossible to ignore.

I want to say something. Anything. A joke, a threat, something at Lucas. But all that comes out is a strained breath as my body takes over.

“Ahh… hh.”

My head tips forward, forehead nearly resting on the chair as I ride it out, completely focused now. No commentary. No sarcasm. Just getting through it.

Through the pain haze, I catch a glimpse of Mark’s face. His eyes are wide, glassy, completely locked on me as he watches me work to bring his child into the world."

The look on his face pulls me back to the night he first met Lucas.

I was Mark’s winggirl at the club. I knew immediately that Lucas was the one for Mark. He had the patience for Mark’s stubborn streak and just enough sass to keep him on his toes. Obviously, I took that as my cue to make his life a living hell for a few weeks. If he was going to get my best friend, he had to prove himself worthy and earn it.

It backfired, at least at first. Lucas was jealous, convinced I was some bitter straight girl trying to keep Mark all to herself. Which, okay, fair. I wasn’t exactly helping. The truth was simpler: We clashed because we’re basically the same person. Loud. Protective. A little vain. Total control freaks. Of course we were going to fight over the man we both loved.

It took a truly catastrophic boyfriend on my end to fix things.

Mark was out of town when it all blew up, and Lucas swooped in to help me escape the disaster. We ended up spending that entire night drinking way too much wine at his apartment. He gave me his bed and slept on the couch, and we've been a united front ever since.

When Mark and Lucas got married three years ago, I proudly stood at the altar in a sharply tailored navy pantsuit as the official "Best Woman." I delivered a flawless toast, too. Slightly drunk, completely perfect.

And now I’m delivering their baby. 

The nurse steps back from the monitor and snaps on a fresh pair of gloves. “Alright, Sarah, I need to do a cervical check so we can see how you’re progressing.”

I nod, but a sudden wave of heat rolls over me, my skin prickling. Everything in me feels tight. Trapped. Overstimulated.

“I just…” I reach back, fumbling with the ties at my neck. “I need to be free.”

I yank the gown over my head in one clumsy motion and toss it aside. Cool air hits my skin, and I suck in a breath, relief washing through me.

I’m left in a tight sports bra that barely contains my heavy, milk-full breasts, my big belly jutting out, round and proud, and somewhere down there where I can’t see, I’m still wearing a pair of panties that came from the maternity section. 

“Additionally,” I add, still catching my breath, “that umbrella print is a crime against fashion. Good riddance.”

Lucas immediately turns his head toward the wall, aggressively averting his eyes from my lack of modesty.

“Lucas, seriously?” I gesture vaguely at my chest. “They’re just boobs. And they’re contained. Relax. Plus, you're gay. Remember? It’s not like they do anything for you."

Mark chuckles, stepping up to play the peacemaker. “He’s just being a gentleman, Sar—”

Mark’s sentence dies in his throat as I hook my thumbs into the sides of my panties and slide them down my legs. 

Mark clears his throat, his gaze shooting straight up to the ceiling like it might have answers.

The nurse gestures to the bed, and I lumber towards it, still catching my breath.

“Oh, come on,” I mutter, kicking the panties aside as I climb onto the bed. I try to be coordinated as I hoist my lush thighs into the stirrups. "You two are literally about to watch me push a whole human out of my pussy. We’re going way past modesty here, boys.”

Neither of them looks down. Instead, they lock onto the only safe place; my face, with intense, unblinking focus.

The nurse steps between my legs, brisk and professional, and applies a generous dollop of lubricant to her glove.

“Okay, quick check,” she says.

She enters me gently. It starts polite. First date polite.

And then she suddenly pushes deeper.

Hey…easy. I’m still a princess down here.

She’s deeper than I expect, her fingers pressing high against my cervix. The pressure makes my hips reflexively lift off the bed.

“HO. haaaaaa… heeeessss.” I hiss, gripping the rails as the intrusive pressure spikes.

"Sorry, honey," Tina says, wincing. "I know I've got the hands of a farmer. Just breathe for me, I'm almost done."

I suck in a breath through my teeth, trying to stay still.

I’ve only been fisted once in my life. I was twenty-two, wasted, of course, and in my very brief lesbian phase. Feeling the nurse’s entire hand up inside me is a stark reminder of exactly why that phase ended quickly after my "girlfriend" thought it would be sexy to surprise me by putting her whole hand inside my dainty little pussy. 

Meanwhile, Mark and Lucas are still staring directly into my eyes like their lives depend on it.

"Honestly, guys," I pant, forcing a breathless laugh.  "The intense eye contact with my two best friends is actually more awkward than getting fisted by a woman I only met ten minutes ago."

The nurse withdraws her hand and peels off the glove. “Well… um… you’re doing great,” she says, clearly trying to stay professional despite… all of this. “You’re at a solid seven centimeters.”

I exhale, long and shaky, my body finally easing as the pressure fades.

Seven. That’s real. That means this is happening. Soon.

And somehow, lying there waiting for the next contraction, my brain decides now is a great time to replay how I got here.” 

Their wedding was amazing, sure, but it had nothing on the Sunday brunch we shared a year ago.

Mark sat there pushing his eggs benedict around his plate, a glossy, absurdly expensive surrogacy brochure sitting between our coffee mugs like a live grenade. Lucas was beside him, rubbing the bridge of his nose, already stressed.

“They said it could take two years just to find a match," Mark mumbled, looking utterly defeated, the macho facade completely stripped away. "And that’s before we even start the medical process."

I took a slow sip of my mimosa, peering at the two of them over the rim of my glass. 

I narrowed my eyes, waiting to see if they would casually pivot and ask me if I would do them the ultimate favor.

But as the silence stretched, it became obvious that my uterus hadn't even crossed their minds. I was still just Sarah. Fun. Perpetually single. Prone to the occasional questionable decision. But not breeding material, apparently.  

My gaze drifted back down to the glossy pamphlet on the table. The cover featured a gorgeous, serene-looking pregnant woman glowing in a sunlit field. I stared at her perfectly round belly, and an old, familiar ache bloomed in my chest. 

I had wanted to be a mom ever since I was a little girl carrying baby dolls around Mark's driveway. Suddenly, a flutter rippled through my pelvis and my empty uterus practically jumped, begging to fulfill its biological purpose.

I set my mimosa down with a decisive clink.

"You guys are idiots," I announced.

They both blinked at me, startled.

"Look at me," I commanded, gesturing broadly to my own body. "I have a perfectly good, unoccupied uterus right here, with absolutely zero pending offers from anyone else wanting to use it.

 Plus, look at me, I’m built for this. Look at these child-bearing hips! Look at these tits! I’m practically a fertility goddess. You can put your bun in my oven, boys. I’m serious."

The utter shock on their faces was comical. It took me an entire month of campaigning to finally convince them I was dead serious. 

We went over everything. Risks, logistics, worst-case scenarios. We talked about what pregnancy would do to my body, my job, my already questionable dating life.

And, okay, yes, as I currently resemble an overinflated beach ball, some of those concerns were very valid.

Mark, bless his protective heart, must have asked me if I was sure at least four hundred times over the course of that month, right up until I was on the clinic table, legs in the cold stirrups, about to make it official.

The nurse steps back, snapping a crisp paper drape over my raised knees and letting it fall into place to cover me.

"Alright, boys," I wheeze out, waving a sweaty hand vaguely toward my lower half. "The birth canal is officially under wraps. You can drop the eye contact now."

Mark and Lucas both exhale in unison, their shoulders visibly dropping as they finally allow their gaze to wander around the room.

Tina, the cheery nurse, offers a sympathetic, tight-lipped smile. "We’re moving into the transition phase now," she warns gently, smoothing the edge of the drape. "It can be very difficult, Sarah. The contractions are going to change."

"I know," I say confidently, waving off her concern. "I've done my research. I expect it to be intense. I’ll be okay."

And then, as if my uterus heard me and decided to humble me on the spot, the first true transition contraction hits.

It doesn't build like the others. It slams into me like a damned freight train. My confident, witty surrogate act completely evaporates. I want to crawl out of my own skin. Run. Escape. But I’m trapped in this heavy, sweating preggo body, writhing on the bed. A relentless ache explodes in my lower back. I let out a sharp gasp as it feels like my pelvic muscles are tearing and the bones are prying apart to make room for their kid.

After more contractions than I can count, Dr. Evans, a tall, calm man with greying hair, strolls into the room. He nods pleasantly at Mark and Lucas and pulls the terrified men aside.

"Hi, dads. Let’s talk about some logistics," he murmurs, though the room is quiet enough that I can hear every word. "Mark, you’ll be cutting the cord, right?” 

Mark nods proudly.

“Also, I usually ask,” Dr. Evans continues, his eyes flicking between the two of them. "Do either of you have a tendency to faint?"

Mark immediately snaps his head toward Lucas.

"I’ll be fine," Lucas hisses defensively.

"Well… if you start to feel lightheaded at any point, sit down immediately," Dr. Evans cautions. "Labor is hard enough to manage without unconscious men on the floor."

"And I just want to prepare you both, Sarah is going to get loud and primal. Delivering a baby is the hardest thing the human body can do. There will probably be screaming and swearing. It might sound scary, but don't worry. That's just the reality of a natural delivery."

I shoot a withering, deeply unamused glare at the back of the doctor's head, but I don’t have the breath to argue. 

Dr. Evans steps up to my bedside, his hands warm as he presses firmly against the outside of my rock-hard, tight stretched belly, mapping the baby's position by touch.

"You're doing really well, Sarah," Dr. Evans says, his voice soothing. "We're in the thick of it now. I just want to confirm one last time before it's too late. No epidural, correct?"

"No epidural," I gasp, tossing my head back against the damp pillow.

I’ve been planning my first delivery since I was a girl. I saw a mom on Deliver Me push out a massive baby with zero medication, and I’ve been determined to do this like her. Like a real woman.

"Alright, you’re very brave," Dr. Evans murmurs, his hands still tracing the firm outline of the baby through my taut skin. "You're also very fit and quite well-built for labor and delivery. Just keep up the positive attitude and you’ll have this baby out soon,” he says before turning to leave.

I snap my eyes toward Mark and Lucas, shooting them a strained, triumphant look through the haze of pain. "Did you hear that?" I pant, a smirk fighting its way onto my sweaty face. "The OBGYN says I'm a fertility goddess. See? Remember, I told ya I was."

Then I cry out again as I’m slammed with another incredible surge. A raw, guttural sound tears out of me. “AArrggggaaaaa… Uuunnnnnnhhhhh.”

My belly seizes, tightening into an impossibly hard ball. I barely get a break between waves. They stack on top of each other, fast, heavy, and merciless.

Mark is at my right side, his large, warm hand holding mine. Lucas steps up on my left, his perfectly manicured fingers gripping mine so hard I think he might break my knuckles. I squeeze back with everything I have. Having them anchor me is exactly what I need right now. I close my eyes tight, drawing the pain out of my body and straight into their grips, deriving every single ounce of my strength from the two men who I’m about to make into fathers. 

It’s not the first time we’ve been in this formation.

Nine months ago, I was reclined on a clinic table, legs spread, a crisp paper drape covering my lap while Mark and Lucas gripped my hands on either side.

A week before, we’d gotten absolutely plastered. We treated it like my last night of freedom, knowing it would be my final drop of alcohol for the next year. The boys swore a drunken oath to quit drinking in solidarity with me.

It was a beautiful gesture and it lasted maybe ten days. After that, I started finding empty bottles tucked under junk mail in their recycling bin. Lying there in the clinic, though, I wasn’t thinking about any of that. 

I was embarrassingly turned on. Because as clinical and sterile as the room was, my biology knew exactly what was happening. 

I was getting knocked up. My sluttiness apparently knew no bounds, because my body was, shall I say…responsive. Fine. I was wet and loose. I believe I gave that ultrasound technician the easiest embryo insertion of her entire career.

When she finally withdrew the catheter and snapped off her gloves, she shot me an amused, knowing little smirk over the top of my knees. 

“Well, Sarah,” she murmured, her eyes bright, “your body was certainly… ready to receive.”

I couldn’t help but blush at the woman who had just knocked me up and called me loose.

Two weeks later, the three of us were crammed onto the edge of my bathtub for the moment of truth. 

Lucas, in true form, had gone to three different pharmacies and bought literally every single brand of pregnancy test on the market. He made me pee on every last one of them. 

We lined them up on the bathroom counter like a bizarre science experiment, clutching each other's hands as, one by one, they all showed positive. 

The physical reality hit fast. I got off pretty easy with the morning sickness, but my body wasted zero time transforming. My lower tummy pooched out into a soft bump, and my breasts got heavy and tender.

But all the bloating, the hormones, and the lack of wine faded into the background at our first ultrasound. Lying on that exam table, looking at the tiny, flickering little bean on the screen, I felt an overwhelming, fierce surge of pride

I was doing it. I was actually growing their baby.

And when I looked over and saw Mark openly crying, Lucas pressed into his shoulder, both of them completely undone.

I knew.

Every uncomfortable, inconvenient, exhausting part of this was going to be worth it.

As magical as that ultrasound was, I did not expect today to feel this physically brutal.

Another wave crashes over me, and the pressure in my pelvis spikes straight to an eleven. I writhe on the bed, fingers clamping down on Mark and Lucas’s hands so hard I can feel their rings biting into my skin.

“I feel like I’m actually going to die,” I groan, throwing my head back against the sweat-soaked pillow. I groan, “Uuhhhh, hooooo–hooooooo. Oh! My back. Fuck, my lower back is killing me.”

Tina steps in at the foot of the bed, snapping on a fresh pair of gloves.

“I know it’s intense, Sarah,” she says calmly. “Let me do one more quick check, okay?”

“Fine,” I grit out, letting my knees fall open as the contraction finally starts to ebb.

This time, the sensation is completely different.

As she reaches inside, everything feels lower. Tighter. Like there’s no space left at all. The baby’s head is right there, heavy, pressing down with undeniable weight.

The check is quick. She pulls her hand back, eyes crinkling into a smile behind her mask.

“You’re at nine centimeters and fully effaced,” she says. “You’re almost there. Just a little longer. Try to breathe through it. You might start feeling like pushing, but not yet, alright?”

A collective, giddy exhale moves through the room.

Mark presses a kiss to my sweaty forehead. Lucas lets out a shaky, relieved laugh.

The nurse turns to prep the tray, her tone light again. “You’re handling this beautifully, Sarah. Do you think you’ll want one of your own someday?”

I let out a breathless, exhausted laugh.

“I’d like to,” I pant. “But Mr. Right would actually have to show up first.”

It’s the painful truth. I do want my own family someday, but the dating pool is a nightmare on a good day. Adding “human incubator for my two best friends” turns it into an extreme sport.

I tried to keep dating anyway. I updated my apps. Slapped my baby bump photo front and center. Described the surrogacy into my bio to weed out the weak ones.

It did not work.

One guy literally sprinted off when he saw my bump in person. It wasn’t even very big yet. I was around three months along, rocking more of an “I just crushed a massive burrito” vibe. But he looked at my stomach like it was a ticking time bomb and bailed before our appetizers arrived.

The worst were the ones who made it past the shock but failed basic anatomy. 

One absolute trash fire asked me, dead serious, if my pussy would “go back to normal” after I delivered. I dumped him on the spot.

I was making out with another guy on my couch. He rested his hand on my belly. It was sweet, intimate, perfectly timed. I literally swooned. And right then, Mark and Lucas’ baby kicked him square in the palm. He jumped like there was an alien inside me. He said he needed a glass of water.… and I heard the front door slam as he beelined out. 

The tragic finale was around six months. Fourth date, great guy. We made it all the way back to my bedroom, which felt like a miracle at that point. Everything was going great. He had me undressed, I’d sucked on his cock and he’d returned the favor on my very sensitive pregnancy clit. I was very ready for the main event.

And then he froze. “Wait,” he said, pulling back. “Am I… going to hurt the baby?” I blinked at him. “No. Your penis is not going to magically bypass my cervix and poke the baby. That’s not how female bodies work, man.”

I pointed between my legs. “Come on. Go ahead and put your penis in me and let’s have some fun, stud!” 

But he did not look reassured. He nervously excused himself to use the bathroom…and he too ran out.

Nurse Tina shifts into efficiency mode, transforming the foot of the bed into a sterile staging area.

She gives me final coaching, calm and direct. When it’s time, I’m supposed to  grab behind my knees, curl forward around my belly, tuck my chin, and push like hell. Short bursts. Hold it. Count to ten. Do it again.

Apparently, my body will just… know what to do.

We’ll see.

Mark gets assigned to counting duty at my head, tasked with counting me through every push. 

I turn my head toward him. “Hey, finance bro,” I mutter, breathless. “You sure you can count that high? All the way to ten?”

Mark doesn’t take the bait. “I’ll manage,” he says, squeezing my hand. “Just focus on pushing.”

“Alright, let’s get you set up,” Tina says.

She consults my birth plan, then stows the cold metal stirrups completely out of the way.

“Good call skipping these,” she adds with an approving nod. “You’ll get way more power with us holding your legs.”

Great. Love that for me.

With a quick motion, she pulls the paper drape away.

Today’s main event, my very pregnant, very puffy vagina is fully exposed to the entire room.

Tina takes my left leg, lifting it under the thigh. Lucas, after a brief moment of visible internal panic, steps in on my right and mirrors her, helping pull my legs back and open

In the brief lull between contractions, while I’m catching my breath, I catch Lucas out of the corner of my eye. Curiosity gets him and his gaze drops, then it immediately snaps back up, but it’s too late. He saw everything. 

His cheeks flush a bright, guilty pink as he realizes I caught him looking.

“I mean…” he stammers, visibly unraveling. “I think it’s a very nice vagina, Sarah.” Then, inexplicably, he adds, “And... it's very well-groomed."

I let out a loud, genuine bark of laughter. "Well, thank you, Lucas. I had to make sure things were neat and presentable for the grand finale."

The truth is, I’ve kept things well-groomed for the past three months. 

You’ll never guess why. Well, actually, you might.

After all those dating disasters, I eventually broke. By month six, my hormones were in full overdrive. I didn't just need to get laid. I was having actual, feral cravings for semen. Which, for the record, is backed by science. It’s packed with prostaglandins that are good for the cervix…honestly, I was just being a good surrogate.

So I called my ex, Jake. Total desperation move. I was huge, exhausted, and felt like a walking duplex.

And the funny part? Guys will go along with just about anything when sex is guaranteed. I showed up looking like I had a beachball smuggled under my shirt, and Jake didn’t even blink.

The absolute best part? No birth control.

The first time he reached for a condom, I just patted my stomach and said, “Jake, honey. The inn is already booked. You can’t make me more pregnant.”

The logistics, though? Hilariously awkward. Like trying to parallel park a delivery truck. 

I let him bend me over once or twice, but mostly I would build a comfy pillow fort, lie on my back and let him get to work, taking very good care of my extremely needy pussy. 

Not glamorous, but honestly? It did the job. I got my orgasms and cream pies, satisfying both of my very feral hormonal demands

My scandalous daydream is violently cut off by a sudden, massive shift in my pelvis.

A fresh, blinding wave of pressure slams into me, dragging me straight to the brightly lit reality of the delivery room.

This is different. This isn’t just pain anymore. It’s pressure. Huge, overwhelming, completely primal. An undeniable, instinctive need to bear down.

My hands clamp onto the bedrails, knuckles whitening as my body tries to force me to bear down.

“I have to push!” I gasp, eyes wide. “I feel him, he’s right there…fuck…there’s so much pressure.

Urrgghhaa… urrgghhaa!! Urrgghh… Uuurrgghh!”

Tina massages my shoulder knowingly. “Okay, I know,” she says, firm but calm. “But you need to wait until Dr. Evans is back in the room. Don’t push yet. Short, quick breaths. Pant through it.”

“I’m trying to!” I snap, thrashing my head back as my body bears down anyway. “Tell him to hurry up!”

The contraction crests, then slowly starts to ebb.

I sag back against the bed, completely breathless, legs trembling in Tina and Lucas’s grip. “Hh-ohhh, hh-ohhh, hh-ohhh.”

Tina presses an ice chip to my lips. “You feeling nauseous at all, honey?”

“No,” I wheeze, shaking my head. “I’m a rock. Barely even had morning sickness.”

I lift a shaky hand and point at Mark. “He did, though.”

Even now, I can’t help it.

“I’m serious, ahhhaa-haaah—” I drag in a breath. “I had nothing. Meanwhile, this macho, gym-obsessed dude developed full-blown Couvade syndrome. A sympathy pregnancy.”

It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever witnessed. Mark completely fell apart. He was the one sprinting to the bathroom every morning to dry-heave. He was the one sending Lucas out at midnight for pickles and peanut butter. He was the one openly crying at commercials for senior dog food.

“It’s a documented medical phenomenon,” Mark mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face, trying to salvage his dignity.

I nudge him weakly with my elbow. “Honestly? Only fair you took some of the hit. It is your baby, after all.”

“Oh, I’m fascinated,” Tina says, eyes wide despite herself. “I’ve read about it, but I’ve never actually seen it firsthand.”

Mark exhales, done with this conversation. “Can we maybe focus on the part where you’re about to have a baby, please?”

Tina shifts smoothly, reaching between my legs. She gently parts my vaginal lips with practiced fingers. Normally, that kind of touch would be weird, but right now, it barely even registers.

“Oh… wow. Okay,” she says, a flicker of excitement breaking through her calm. “Baby’s right there. You’re ready, a full 10 centimeters. We’ll start pushing as soon as the doctor gets in.”

And then another contraction hits.

Hard.

The pressure surges—and with it, a sharp, blinding wave of panic.

Shit. I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this. Why did I agree to this?

Tina sees it instantly.

“Hey…hey,” she says, grounding me. “You’re okay. Let’s do a practice push. Just to get the feel for it.”

They guide my legs back a little further.

I try to smile at them, tight and shaky. Being held like this, anchored on all sides by my friends, makes me feel… safe.

Another contraction builds, heavy and inevitable.

I look at Mark. He nods, steady and reassuring. I swallow hard.

Okay, I can do this. I’m doing it…

“Alright,” Tina coaches, voice firm. “Big breath in… and hold it. Chin down. That’s it, now bear down. Push into your bottom, Sarah.”

I inhale, curl forward, and push.

Mark jumps in immediately. “One… two… three…”

“Nnnnh… nnnnh—ahh—hah—”

The pressure is unreal. Not sharp pain, just this massive, immovable weight, like my entire lower body is trying to turn inside out.

“Keep going… keep going!” Tina urges.

“…four… five… six…” Mark counts, voice tight with focus.

My whole body strains.

“…seven… eight…”

I finally gasp, “haayyyyyy-hooooo,” and fall back against the bed. But the pressure doesn’t go away. It just… settles, Low. Heavy. Constant. Like a bowling ball wedged deep in my pelvis, waiting.

The door swings open. Dr. Evans strides in, tying his gown, calm as if he just walked into a normal Tuesday meeting. He glances up at me, composed, reassuring.

“Alright,” he says, settling onto the stool between my legs. “Let’s have a baby mom and dads!”

Another contraction hits.

Hard.

The pressure spikes, wiping everything else out.

I grab behind my thighs, curl forward, chin tucked tight, teeth bared as Mark starts counting again.

And then, something clicks.

Not magical. Not mystical.

Just… instinct.

My body knows what to do.

I bear down hard, pulling everything in and pushing it down, like I’m trying to drive the pressure through my pelvis.

“Good push Sarah!” Dr Evans says from between my knees. 

“Neennnhhh… nyyynnnnh. Ahh, hah, hah.”

It’s only a fraction of an inch, but I feel it.

The head moved lower.

It’s still intense. Crushing and overwhelming, but it’s different now. Focused. Productive. I’m doing something.

“Good! Again!” Mark urges.

The memory of our very first OBGYN appointment flashes behind my eyes, the three of us huddled around a tiny monitor, holding our breath until that rapid, swooshing thump-thump-thump echoed from deep within my womb and filled the tiny room. That was the moment it became real. Not an abstract idea, not a favor for a friend, but a living, breathing little boy housed safely inside my body.

I suck in another breath, curl forward, and push.

It’s so much harder than I expected. My entire core lights up, shaking and burning like I’m deep into the last rep of a brutal workout, with no option to stop.

“Ahhh… nnnnhhh…hah, hah.”

We fall into a rhythm.

Mark counting. Lucas steadying me. Me pushing like my life depends on it.

Push.

Pressure. Stretching. That deep, splitting heaviness.

Then, something else. A flicker, low and subtle. 

I blink, thrown by the feeling.

Push again. “MMMMMMaaaaa, yyyyehhhhh!" 

Pressure. Burn. And underneath it…

That same flicker.

Warmer this time. Sharper.

“Okay… that’s…” I gasp, breath hitching.

Another push.

The sensation builds with it now. Not replacing the pressure, just tangled up in everything.

Weird. Really weird. But not bad.

My body reacts before my brain can catch up.

Push.

Pressure, then that pulse.

Push.

“Oh, hhhe, hhhe.” I choke out, fingers tightening around their hands.

I know what this is. I absolutely know what this is.

“No, no…  no.” I pant, heat rushing up my neck.

Tina’s voice cuts in, low and steady, right by my ear.

“Hey, hey…listen to me.” she murmurs. “Don’t fight it, alright?.”

I freeze for half a second, eyes snapping toward her.

“If something’s building,” she continues calmly, “let your body use it. It’s okay. Push through it.”

Oh hell. She knows. Of course she knows.

I want to disappear, but the next contraction is already there.

“Big breath. Now push Sarah,” Tina coaches. 

I do.

She rubs my inner thigh gently. It’s  just enough to push me over the edge.  

My back arches, a broken, helpless sound tearing out of me as everything inside me clenches, tightens, releases.

“Hehhhh… hhe, hhe. Ohhwwwww. Hehhhhh.”

“Hehhhh… hhe, hhe. Ohhwwwww. Hehhhhh.”

I freeze.

Stunned. Breathless. Face on fire.

Oh.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

I clamp my eyes shut, gripping Mark’s hand like nothing just happened. Like I didn’t just…

Yeah. No. We are never talking about that. Even I have limits. And apparently my birthgasm is one of them. 

“You’re doing amazing, Sarah,” Dr. Evans says, apparently oblivious to what just happened. “Do you want the mirror so you can see your progress? Your birth plan said you wanted to watch”

Tina leans back in. “Say yes,” she tells me gently. “You’ll want to see this. It’s going to be beautiful.”

I hesitate for half a second, then nod. “Okay. Yeah.”

Dr Evans brings a mirror to the foot of the bed, angling it between my legs.

For a split second, my brain goes somewhere else.

Lucas was my fashion consultant the entire pregnancy. The second I started showing, he took it upon himself… personally offended, honestly… to make sure I didn’t look like a walking disaster. They paid for a full maternity wardrobe, and he spent hours in front of mirrors  in fitting rooms, curating every single outfit.

“Posture, Sarah. Shoulders back. There, see? You’re a hot preggo, not an exhausted blob.”

His hands smoothing fabric over my bump, adjusting it until everything was perfect.

“Look at you. You’re glowing, Sarah. I’m serious, every guy in a ten-mile radius is going to be staring.”

I stare into the mirror, breath hitching. My body now looks… unreal, swollen, stretched, tight. And then I see it, a bulging, straining curve where there shouldn’t be one, my birth canal pulled thin around something solid pressing outward.

And at the center, a small part of me is opening, giving way. 

"Oh my god," I pant, “hee, hee, hoooo, hoooo,” staring wide-eyed at the reflection of my crowning vagina. "It actually is a stargate."

Lucas lets out a wet, teary laugh. "Yeah Sarah, it is. You’re doing so great."

“Alright, here we go,” Tina says. “Big push coming.”

I grab behind my thighs, curl forward, and bear down.

The head presses forward, slow and relentless, stretching me wider, wider—until it feels like there’s no possible way my body can open any more.

The burn hits, sharp, hot, blinding.

“Oh…oh…” I choke, instinctively tensing.

“Don’t fight it,” Tina says quickly. "Let it stretch.”

I force myself to stay with it, breath shaking, eyes locked on the mirror.

Each push opens me wider. “Ahhhhh, heeee, heeeee, HAAAAA! Ohhhhhhhh.”

And wider. “Ahhhhh, heeee, heeeee, HAAAAA! Ohhhhhhhh.”

Until I’m fully crowned.  “Ahhhhh, heeee, heeeee, HAAAAA! Ohhhhhhhh.”

There’s a literal baby, with a massive head lodged at the precipice of my vagina. 

“Okay, okay—pant for me,” Dr. Evans says, steady but firm. “Short breaths. Don’t push right now.”

I switch to quick, shallow breaths, fighting the urge to bear down as the head holds right there.

“He. He He. HEEEEEEEEEE! He. HEEEEEEEEEE!”

The stretch is intense. Constant. Like everything is pulled as far as it can possibly go.

“The head’s right there,” Tina says calmly. “You’re doing perfect.”

Mark leans forward despite himself, eyes wide.

“Oh my god,” he breathes. “Lucas! His hair is dark, just like yours.”

Lucas shifts, stunned, staring. “He’s right there… Sarah, he’s right there. You’re doing it!”

Another contraction starts to rise.

“Okay,” Dr. Evans says.  Easy, controlled push.”

I nod, teeth chattering.

The wave hits.

I bear down.

A deep, primal sound tears out of me as the pressure peaks—strong, focused, everything driving downward—

“AHHHHHHHH! OHHH! HUU-UUUUUU!!”

The stretch intensifies.

The sheer volume of the baby pressing through my birth canal is staggering, a heavy, raw stretching sensation that makes my spine arch.

“HIIIYYYYYYYAA!!”

Then suddenly...

Pop.

Release.

“The head is out,” Dr. Evans says calmly.

The pressure drops just enough to feel the difference. Still full, still stretched, but no longer that same crushing force.

"He’s almost there, Sar!" Mark’s voice breaks, pure awe.

“One more for the shoulders,” Dr. Evans instructs. “Nice and steady. Let your body do the work.”

With a final, exhausting heave, I push.

“HIIIYYYYYYYAA!! HUUUUUGGGGGG!!!!”

There’s a sudden, unmistakable shift, pressure stretching me to the absolute limit.

And then... release.

A slippery, sliding sensation as his body follows, fast and fluid, and just like that...

He’s out.

The crushing pressure that filled my pelvis vanishes instantly, leaving behind a strange, hollow emptiness that I can’t quite process.

For a split second, everything goes quiet.

And then the room fills with sound.

A sharp, outraged cry cuts through the air.

"He's here! He's here!" Lucas sobs, hands hovering, completely overwhelmed.

I collapse back against the bed, breathless, shaking, my entire body buzzing with adrenaline and disbelief.

Before I can even catch up, Tina is already moving.

She lifts him smoothly and brings him straight to me, placing his warm, slippery weight onto my chest.

A wave crashes over me -- relief, pride, something deeper I don’t even have a word for. I let out a broken, breathless laugh as I look down at him.

Mark and Lucas are immediately there, crowding in, both of them crying openly now, kissing my cheeks, my forehead, babbling over each other as they stare at their son like he hung the moon.

And for a second, it feels like we’re all one thing. One moment. One little family.

“We’re going to let the cord pulse for a bit,” Tina says softly, giving us space while still guiding everything. “Then you can cut it.”

Mark nods, barely able to speak. He looks at me, really looks at me, his face wrecked with emotion.

“Thank you, Sarah,” he chokes out, voice breaking. “Thank you.”

A few minutes later, he and Lucas wrap their hands together around the scissors.

They snip the cord together.

For a second, it’s just me and the baby. Nothing else exists. My body is still shaking, still trying to catch up, but he’s here, warm, solid, real against my chest. 

I did this. I made this perfect little human. 

A quiet thought slips in, unexpected. This is the only time he’ll ever be mine.

I run my hand over his back, memorizing the weight of him, the heat of him. 

Then I lift my eyes to Mark and Lucas and I feel it click into place. I smile, soft and steady.

“Your turn, dads.” I say as I pass the beautiful child into Mark’s arms. 

It is the most perfect moment of my life.

Right up until Dr. Evans ruins it. 

“Hey Sarah, I need you to bear down and push again. It’s time for the placenta." 

Ugh, really? 

In the end, I got absolutely everything I wanted.

Mark and Lucas are disgustingly happy. Their son, little Sawyer – the closest they could get to naming a boy after me – is almost eighteen months old now. I get to be the wildly fun Auntie Sarah who buys the loudest toys, hypes him up on sugar, and hands him right back the second he poops.

I got my labor and delivery photos. They are absolutely… not glamorous. I look like a sweaty, exhausted, screaming tomato. But they’re raw, powerful, and honestly? That’s hot to me. So yes, I proudly posted every single one on Insta.

The boys also gave me the ultimate push present: a two-week, all-expenses-paid trip to Puerto Rico. Unlimited alcohol included. They knew exactly what I needed.

My body bounced back surprisingly fast after delivery, aside from a few stubborn stretch marks. And yes, before you ask, after some pelvic floor therapy, everything downstairs is not only back in business, it’s honestly better than ever. 

And, I mean… you know me. It’s been busy.

The boys wanted a sibling for Sawyer, so as Britney would say: oops, I did it again. My uterus is officially rented out for round two.

And Jake? My former ex turned booty call has stuck around for almost two years now. He’s been enjoying the, um… perks… of my newly pregnant body, but he’s also shown up in ways that actually matter. Even though it’s not his kid, he comes to every OBGYN appointment, gives me nightly foot rubs, and applies my stretch-mark cream. 

Honestly… I think we might be headed somewhere real this time.

In fact, a few days ago, while I was playing with Sawyer in the living room, I overheard Mark and Lucas corner him in the kitchen after our weekly dinner. They were both in full protective-dad mode. They grilled him about his intentions and his future plans.

So naturally, I’m on high proposal alert. 

Which is perfectly fine by me, because once my current squatter vacates the premises and my uterus’s lease with the boys is officially up, I’m going to carry again.

But this time?

Lena froze in the doorway. Ben skidded to a stop behind her, his eyes widening as he took in the sight: Marcus, his rugged, masculine brother-in-law, lying completely exposed, legs wide in the stirrups, with Dr. Reed's hand lodged deep inside his birth canal.

Ben's filter completely failed him and words tumbled out. "Oh! It looks like...like you have a vagina, Marcus!"

A collective silence descended. Dr. Reed paused, her hand frozen mid-exam. Lena gasped, her face switching from worry to pure fury in a fraction of a second.

Dr. Reed, however, was unfazed. Addressing Ben with calm professionalism, she stated, "You’re correct, sir. The birth canal of a male carrying a baby is appropriately referred to as the VAGINA."

Lena didn't say a word. She simply spun and delivered a sharp, open-handed slap to Ben’s chest hard enough to send him stumbling backward against the wall with a surprised gasp.

Marcus’s jaw clenched tighter. He was clearly ready to strangle Ben if it weren’t for his current condition. His focus was redirected as Dr. Reed announced, "You’re at four centimeters and your cervix is at least eighty percent effaced, Marcus.”

Dr. Reed removed her hand from Marcus’ vagina, discarding the gloves with a snap. She then pressed her palms firmly against the taut, immense dome of Marcus's belly. Her touch was reassuringly professional; her eyes focused on the man’s contracting uterus beneath her hands.

"Marcus, everything feels fantastic here," Dr. Reed commented, moving her hands lower to his pelvic bowl. "The baby is well positioned and you’re both making great progress. Your amniotic fluid volume is quite robust. I can feel a lot of cushion in here, which means we might have a big gush when your water finally breaks. Why don’t you try the tub again for a while to help things along?"

Marcus glared past Dr. Reed at his brother-in-law, his voice a low rasp. “Ben, turn around while I get my shorts back on. Rule number one was not to look at my, my…you know. And you already broke the rule. Just turn around, ok?”

With Ben’s back turned, Marcus slowly lowered his legs from the stirrups, groaning as his pregnant body protested his every movement.

With the help of Julia and Mia, Marcus carefully got back into his mesh trunks, then lowered himself into the warm, soothing water of the tub. He let out a long, ragged sigh as the warmth enveloped him.

The relief was short-lived. A fresh contraction gripped him, and Marcus bent forward in the water, his arms locked over the tub’s rim. "Hnnnngh! Oh, man," he gasped, the sound closer to a bellow than a breath.

"Okay, Marcus, breathe! I read about this!" Ben said excitedly, trying to sound helpful while keeping a safe distance. "It's, uh, hee-hoo-hee-hoo-hee-hoo! Like that!"

Marcus snapped his head up, eyes wild. "Ben, shut up! I really don’t need your help, I’ve been contracting for hours already, I know what I’m doing! Just shut up, ok?”

Lena approached the tub, her face pale with worry at seeing her big, strong brother in the throes of labor. She reached a hand into the water, gently stroking her laboring brother’s massive forearm. "Hey. Look at me, Marcus. You're doing incredible, bro, you’re so strong," she murmured. "Forget Ben. Just breathe slow and deep. In through your nose, out through your mouth. I'm here. I'm not leaving."

For the next fifteen minutes, the room was filled with the sounds of Marcus’s labor. His breathing was slow and controlled, but when the surges hit, his exhales turned into low bellows as his uterus worked to push the baby lower into his pelvis.

As the painful tension of a contraction receded, Marcus let out a shuddering sigh. Julia, still crouched near the tub, leaned in toward Lena.

"You're going to be an incredible mom, Lena," Julia said quietly with a smile. "Congratulations on your baby. And I gotta say, you're so very lucky to have Marcus for a brother. What an awesome guy to do this for you!"

Lena gave Julia a look of gratitude. "Ya, he truly is the best. He’s all heart, even with that tough exterior," she said, smiling brightly. "I just hope that one day he finds someone wonderful to have a family with.”

Julia nodded, her expression softening. "You can tell how deeply he cares for this baby just by watching him fight through these contractions now," she replied, her eyes briefly meeting Lena's. She continued, “You know, it also takes a lot of strength being the one waiting and watching. You’re just as brave, Lena."

They stayed like that for the next hour. The room was mostly silent except for gentle splashes of water and the soft humming of the machines. Marcus provided the rest of the noise with his quick staccato breaths during a surge, followed by his deep strained sounds as the contractions receded.

Eventually, the morning sun spilled through the hospital window, casting long shadows. A deep, blotchy flush had begun to spread across Marcus’s chest, rising up his neck to stain his cheeks a rose color. It was the undeniable labor flush, a biological marker of the intense hormonal storm raging inside the man. It made his rugged features look strangely soft and vulnerable.

Dr. Reed returned, checking her watch. "Well, it's been over an hour. I think it's time to check progress again, Marcus."

Marcus was visibly struggling to keep his composure. He looked defeated. "I don’t know if I can get back up,” he whispered.

"You can. We've got you," Julia promised with an upbeat voice. With the combined effort of Lena and the two nurses, they hauled the big man’s wet, heavy bulk from the tub. He stood for a moment, dripping and trembling, before collapsing back onto the delivery bed.

As the nurses started to peel off his wet shorts, Dr. Reed said, “Marcus, would you like us to affix a Male Modesty Cover?”

She held up a soft, gray pouch made of breathable material with adhesive strips. “It’s a secure pouch that we apply over your male anatomy. It keeps everything safely contained and out of the way for the delivery team. It also keeps everyone’s eyes off your male parts.”

Marcus, panting heavily, looked at the device, then at Ben, who was still trying to look anywhere but at his brother-in-law’s pelvic region. “Please. Yes. Absolutely.” He was obviously grateful for even a little modesty.

Dr. Reed smiled warmly. “Julia, Mia, if you two would assist, please?”

Marcus’s body was a striking juxtaposition of raw male power and maternal grace. His broad, muscular chest ended abruptly at the curve of his belly, a smooth globe that defied his rugged build. The pregnant belly created a stark clash against his powerful thighs and the fully exposed male anatomy waiting beneath the curve.

Ben, who had managed to find a fixed point on the wall, accidentally let his gaze drift down for a second. The unexpected length and girth of his brother-in-law's dick was so overwhelming that Ben let out a faint, choked noise, shocked at the magnitude of the pregnant man’s big member.

Marcus, lost in a new, mounting contraction, barely registered Ben's reaction. He could only focus on the pressure building in his pelvis. Julia and Mia, however, worked with gentleness, handling Marcus’s immense member with care as they aligned it and pressed the adhesive of the modesty cover against the skin surrounding his pubic region. Their expressions held a slight twinkle of amusement for the task at hand.

As they finished, Dr. Reed said, "I have a feeling things are moving faster than you realize. We’ll see in just a second, when I check you again.” Marcus braced himself for Dr. Reed’s intrusion of his body.  "Just...just be gentle," he pleaded.

As Dr. Reed began the examination, Marcus let out a sharp, choked "Nngh!" of discomfort as his birth canal was stretched by the Doctor’s fingers. Then, a sudden surge of clear, amniotic fluid flowed out of him like a waterfall.

"Well, there you go! I told you we were carrying a big reservoir in there!" Dr. Reed said brightly, pulling her hand out of Marcus. "Julia, let's get the monitors back on. I want to see the baby's response.”

Julia and Mia quickly secured the external fetal heart rate and contraction monitors around Marcus’s taut, undulating abdomen. The rhythmic echo of the baby’s heartbeat was broadcast into the room, whoosh-whoosh, whoosh-whoosh, whoosh-whoosh.

"Okay, Mr. Marcus, you’re at 6 centimeters. Now that your water broke, the pressure of the baby's head is directly on your cervix. Things are going to speed up dramatically, I expect."

Marcus seemed not to register Dr. Reed’s update. He only registered the new, overwhelming sensation of the baby’s head spreading his birth canal like a battering ram. His breath hitched and he squeezed his eyes shut, hands gripping the sheet. "Gaaaaaah! Oh, the pressure! Oh, the pressure is intense!" he roared, his voice cracking. "It's like...like my hips are splitting open! “

“That pressure is the head descending. Just relax and let yourself open,” Dr. Reed said, her voice cutting through the haze of Marcus’s panic. She kept her eyes on the monitor where the contraction peaked like a jagged mountain.

“Now that your water broke, his head is applying direct force on your cervix. The baby is starting to descend faster. I know it hurts, but it’s bringing the baby closer to being born. Just relax and let yourself open.”

Marcus groaned as the contraction released, “Ha, Ha…Hooo…Hooooooo.” Then he said, rubbing his belly, “It feels exactly what I read other guys describe, I feel all the tissues inside me stretching. It’s like my canal is being forced wider than is possible. There’s so much pressure stretching everything. My birth canal…my vagina…”

Dr. Reed nodded calmly, her eyes fixed on the fetal monitor strip. "Focus on that feeling of opening, Marcus. That's helping you progress." She paused, then offered, "I know you wanted to go without, but do you want the anesthesiologist to come in for an epidural?"

"NO!" Marcus yelled forcefully, shaking his head violently against the pillow. "I said natural! No, I'm doing this naturally!"

As the words left his mouth, a new contraction seized him. It was far more violent than the last. It didn't roll in; it struck like a sledgehammer. Marcus’s back arched off the bed, his calves digging into the stirrups.

Dr. Reed leaned close, her voice dropping to a commanding whisper. "Marcus, look at me. You’re fighting this. You’re clenching against the pressure like a man bracing for a fight, but you cannot muscle your way through this."

Marcus groaned, his teeth gritted. "It feels...It feels like I'm tearing..."

"It’s not tearing, it’s stretching. There is a difference," Dr. Reed corrected firmly. "You have to do what women have done for millennia. You have to surrender to it. You have to soften your reaction and accept the opening, accept the pressure, Marcus. If you don't let yourself open up, you won’t be able to birth this baby.”

"Hnnnnggg! Hnnnnggg! GAAAAHHH!" he cried out, a raw, guttural roar that ripped through his throat. His massive hands clamped onto the bed rails, the muscles in his forearms bulging under the strain. He squeezed his eyes shut, his face twisting into a mask of pure agony.

"Stay with it, Marcus!" Dr. Reed commanded, her voice firm. "Don't fight the pressure. I know it feels like you’re splitting apart, but that is your body making room for the baby. Let the baby go lower, let your body accept the stretch.”

Marcus shook his head frantically, sweat flying from his brow. "I can't...it feels too...too big!" he gasped, panic edging into his voice. Instinctively, he tried to clamp his thighs together, fighting the pressure in his crotch.

"No, Marcus. Don’t clamp down, calm down and let your birth canal open," Dr. Reed instructed. "Don’t fight it, just let it happen, let yourself accept the baby’s head deeper into your pelvis.”

With a trembling, tortured groan, Marcus forced himself to surrender. He slowly let his thick legs open wider, more fully exposing his vulnerability to the room. He put his hands on top of his belly and panted raggedly, his chest heaving. "Ah-hoo…ah-hoo…ohhhhhhhh."

As the contraction receded, Marcus slumped sideways, pressing his sweaty face into Lena’s palm. He nuzzled against her hand like a child seeking comfort. When she stopped stroking his temple to check the monitor, he let out a high, needy whimper, “No...don't stop...please.”

"Hnnnnggg! Hnnnnggg! GAAAAHHH! GAAAAHHH!" he cried with another strong uterine contraction.

Down below, the physical toll of the labor was becoming visible. The tissues of Marcus’s vagina were beginning to engorge, the edges of his birth canal turning a deep violet as the pressure forced blood into the area. His opening looked swollen and puffy. It glistened under the medical lights, making a contrast to the skin of his inner thighs.

Another wave hit before he could recover. A low, animalistic grunt rumbled deep in his chest. "Uggghhhhh-huh!" His belly, hard as stone, distorted visibly as his womb torqued, thrusting the baby closer to his exit.

For the next twenty minutes, there was no respite. The contractions came one on top of another.

His massive legs began to shake violently in the stirrups, an uncontrollable rattling that vibrated the entire bed. “I can't stop shaking,” Marcus chattered, his teeth clicking together. “It's the hormones, Marcus,” Julia soothed, holding his knee firmly. “It’s totally normal. It means you're getting close, Marcus. You’re doing so well.”

"Heee-yaaaah!" Marcus yelped, a high-pitched, undignified squeak escaping him as a particularly sharp pain radiated into his lower back. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, had gone glassy and unfocused. He wasn't in the room anymore; he was deep inside his own body and entirely surrendered to the rhythm of his uterus.

He writhed on the bed, gripping the bedrails with white knuckles. He muttered, "It’s my hips, I think my hips are splitting open!”

Dr. Reed watched the monitor, then Marcus’s perineum. She could see the tissue bulging slightly with the peak of the contraction. "Let's see how much progress we’ve made," she announced, snapping on fresh gloves.

Marcus barely nodded, too exhausted to protest. Dr. Reed lubricated her fingers and inserted her hand into the man’s swollen, tight birth canal. Marcus hissed through his teeth, "Sssshhh-ahhh," his hips bucking slightly against the intrusion.

Dr. Reed didn’t need to press very deep. "Wow, Marcus! You are nine centimeters!" she announced, withdrawing her hand. But her tone wasn't purely celebratory. She looked at the nurse, then back at Marcus.

"The baby has hit a snag," she explained, her voice serious. "I can feel the head. It's tilted, asynclitic, and it's pressing hard against your pubic arch. This is a common challenge with male deliveries. Male pelvises are narrower and deeper than a female pelvis. Marcus, your male bone structure doesn’t flare out like a woman’s, so the baby has a much tighter squeeze to navigate."

She gestured with her hands to demonstrate. "She's trying to rotate, but she's catching on this bony ridge.

We need to use gravity to dislodge her," Dr. Reed commanded, stepping back to give them space. "I need him on his hands and knees."

Marcus looked at her through bleary, sweat-stung eyes. "I... I can't move," he wheezed, his chest heaving.

"We're going to help you. Come on, big guy," Julia said, unlocking the bed rails. "Ben, I need you on his left side, grab under his armpit. Lena, take the right hip. On three."

Ben stepped up, looking terrified but determined. He wedged his shoulder under Marcus’s massive, trembling arm. "I got you, Marcus. I got you."

"One, two, three…turn!"

Marcus groaned, a deep, rumbling sound of exertion, “HUUUUURGH," as he tried to coordinate his exhausted muscles. The bed frame creaked under the shifting mass of his six-foot-five frame.

"Watch the IV line!" Julia barked, untangling the tubing as Marcus rolled onto his side.

With a final, agonizing grunt, Marcus hauled himself up. He planted his elbows first, then pushed up to his hands, his head hanging low between his shoulders.

Gravity took over as he settled onto all fours. The curve of his belly dropped, becoming a heavy, swinging sac that pulled taut against his ribs. The tension turned the stretch marks along his hips into bright, silvery streaks. The position stripped him of his last defenses: viewed from behind, his anatomy was entirely rewritten. The swollen, violet opening of his vagina was now the focal point. It was exposed, pulsating and preparing to be levered wide open by the baby’s head.

"That’s it," Dr. Reed said, placing a hand on his lower back. "Let the belly hang. This pulls the pressure off your spine and encourages her to rotate."

"Marcus, listen to me closely," Dr. Reed said. "When you contract again, I DO NOT want you to push. It’s not quite time yet.”

Marcus gritted his teeth, sweat dripping from the tip of his nose. "Then... then…what... do I do?"

"Rock back," she instructed. "When you contract, I want you to rock back and widen your hips as much as you can. Open your birth canal as much as you can."

A low moan started in Marcus's throat. "Oh, oh…it’s... it’s starting. Hnnng!"

"Ok, Marcus, rock back! Push your hips back!" Julia coached, rubbing his shoulder.

Marcus squeezed his eyes shut and shoved his weight backward. His thighs trembled as he compressed his body. He widened his knees, forcing his pelvis open. He held the position, his breath coming in sharp, hissing gasps through his clenched teeth, “Tssss-tssss-tssss,” as he rode out the contraction.

As the pain ebbed, he lunged forward again, the heavy weight of his pregnant belly swinging beneath him.

As the big man labored, his sweat-soaked muscles rippling with every contraction, Julia and Mia couldn't help but exchange a look. "I mean, just look at the glutes on that man," Mia whispered, watching the massive, straining curve of his backside as he rocked back. "Unreal. Even in labor." Julia simply nodded, transfixed by the sheer, powerful, primal athleticism of his struggle.

"Good. Do it again," Dr. Reed ordered. "She's turning."

Another contraction seized him immediately. Marcus rocked back again, making his hips and birth canal go wider than ever.

"GAAAAH! OH, OH, IT HURTS!!" he cried out, his voice cracking into a high, startled yelp. "Something moved! It feels like a bowling ball right in my bum!"

"That's it!" Dr. Reed said. "She cleared the ridge!"

"Oh, it burns..." Marcus whimpered, burying his face in the mattress. "My vagina feels so tight."

"I know. That’s the head pressing on your perineum," Dr. Reed said. She reached for a bottle on the tray. "I’m going to use some warm oil to help you stretch. We need to make as much room as possible before you start pushing."

Marcus flinched as he felt Dr. Reed’s fingers rub the slippery, warm oil to his most sensitive area. Dr. Reed didn't hesitate; she began a firm, rhythmic massage on Marcus’s perineum stretching the lips of his opening outward with her fingers.

The intense sensation forced a sound out of him that he couldn't control. "Eeee-yiii! Ah-ah-eeee!" It was a sharp, high-pitched squeak, a desperate noise that sounded foreign coming from his bearded throat. He didn't sound like a man at all; he sounded like a woman in the final throes of labor.

"Breathe, Marcus," Dr. Reed said while continuing to apply steady pressure to stretch his opening. "This massage will help you not tear."

Just then, a massive transition contraction hit him. It was different than the others, uncontrollable and all encompassing. Marcus didn't just rock; his whole body convulsed.

"EEEEEEEE-YAAAAAAH!"

The scream tore out of him, high and keening, a piercing shriek that vibrated the bed frame. It wasn't a roar of strength anymore; it was the shrill, desperate wail of a body completely surrendered to the overwhelming power of childbirth.

As the wave subsided, leaving Marcus gasping and drooling on the sheets, Dr. Reed slid her hand fully inside him for a status check.

"Marcus," Dr. Reed said, her voice piercing the haze of his exhaustion. "You have a choice right now. Gravity is helping you here on your hands and knees, but some people feel more comfortable on their back. Do you want to deliver like this, or do you want to flip over?"

Marcus blinked, sweat dripping from his eyelashes onto the sheet. The words didn't seem to process at first. "Deliver?" he croaked, his voice cracking. "You mean... now? Like, right now?"

"Right now," Dr. Reed confirmed, stripping off her soiled gloves. "You are fully dilated. The baby is right there. It is time to push him out.”

Shock registered on Marcus’s flushed face. "Oh, Uhhh…I'm not ready," he stammered, his massive arms trembling under his weight. "I can't... I can't hold myself up anymore. My arms are so tired."

"Then let's get you on your back," Julia said, stepping in. "Come on, big guy. Last flip."

With a heavy flop, Marcus settled back against the inclined pillows. He let his legs fall open, his chest heaving, his massive, distended belly rising and falling from his immense exertion.

"Okay," Dr. Reed said, positioning herself at the foot of the bed. She looked almost excited. "Listen to me, Marcus. The hardest part is over. Now comes the fun part, pushing!"

Marcus stared at her, his eyes wide and bloodshot. He let out a breathless, incredulous laugh that turned into a groan. "Fun? You think... pushing a human out of my... out of there... is going to be fun?"

"It is productive pain," Dr. Reed corrected with a smile. "You’re in control now, you get to bring this baby into the world."

She placed a hand on his knee. "Listen. When the next contraction comes, I want you to grab your legs, back here on your hamstrings and pull them back. Tuck your chin to your chest. And I want you to focus every ounce of your strength right here." She tapped the top of his uterus.

She gripped his knee harder, locking eyes with him. "You have to let go of your ego. You have to let go of being tough. Strength won't get her out, surrender will. Let your body deliver this baby exactly like women have been doing since the beginning.” Marcus gripped the bed rails, his knuckles white. "I don't know if I can..."

"I know you can, Marcus. But you have to accept the stretching," Dr. Reed said firmly. "You have to surrender to the ring of fire. It is going to burn, but do not pull away. Lean into the burn and accept it like a woman. Surrender to the baby passing through your vagina, just like women have been doing since the beginning of time. Let your body do what it was made to do."

Marcus looked at Lena, then at Ben. He took a jagged breath, nodding slowly. "Okay," he whispered, closing his eyes. "Okay. I surrender."

"Good," Dr. Reed said, watching the monitor as the line began to spike. "Because here comes a wave. Grab your legs, Marcus. Let's meet this baby."

Marcus grabbed his thick hamstrings, hauling his heavy legs back. The movement tilted his pelvis, exposing his swollen birth canal even further to the bright clinical lights. As the peak of the contraction hit, he tucked his chin and pushed. A sharp, breathy keen escaped him. It was a surprisingly high, feminine sound that starkly contrasted with his bearded face and massive frame. "Eeeeaaaahhh!"

He fell back against the pillows, his chest heaving. "Did... did I do it right?" he gasped.

"You did, Marcus," Dr. Reed affirmed, her eyes focused intently between his legs. "But you need to hold that downward pressure for ten full seconds. Nurse Julia will count for you."

"I've got you, Marcus. Follow my lead," Julia said encouragingly while touching his thigh.

"Here comes another surge," Dr. Reed announced. "Push again, Marcus. Make this contraction work for you."

Marcus hauled his legs back, bearing down. "One... two... three..." Julia counted steadily. But before she could even reach six, Marcus threw his head back and screamed.

"GAAAAH! OH! OH! I feel it! I feel the head coming out!"

"You're making great progress, but you aren't crowning yet," Dr. Reed instructed calmly. "Be patient, Marcus. Keep pushing."

Marcus bore down again. His face instantly turned a dark crimson, and the thick veins on his massive neck stood out like taut ropes.

Without a break, another wave crashed over him. As he pushed, his immense pregnant tummy visibly distended, transforming into a hard, rigid mound of muscle and tension. When the contraction finally broke, the belly undulated strangely as his exhausted uterus relaxed.

Marcus was fading, able to manage only a fraction of a sentence at a time between gasps. "The pressure..." he panted, squeezing his eyes shut. "Oh... the pressure."

The respite was over in seconds. He hauled his legs back and pushed again. His vagina visibly bulged outward under the immense force. "It's too big!" Marcus screamed, pure panic threading through his deep voice. "It won't fit!"

"She’s fitting perfectly, Marcus," Dr. Reed assured him, her hands hovering near his perineum. "You’re making great progress. Keep going."

Lena and Ben exchanged a wide-eyed look, entirely overwhelmed as they watched the raw, visceral intensity of what was happening between Marcus’s legs.

Marcus collapsed against the pillows, recovering with harsh, ragged panting.

"You are doing incredible," Julia praised, stroking his knee. "Honestly, Marcus, you are one of the best pushers I've ever seen. A natural."

The praise was swallowed by another contraction. Marcus pushed again, and this time, the edges of his vagina faintly spread. "Ahhhh! My vagina is on fire! Ayyyyy!" he cried out.

"Oh my God, Marcus! I can see it! I can see the head! It's right there in your... your vagina!" Ben exclaimed, forgetting himself entirely as he leaned in for a closer look.

Marcus stared up at the ceiling, a man broken down entirely to instinct. He gripped Lena's hand so tightly his knuckles turned white. His entire six-foot-five frame was consumed by the effort of labor. His thick beard matted completely with sweat and tears.

"GAAAH! It feels like a bowling ball!" he cried, after holding a push for ten full seconds. He collapsed backward, gasping for air, and the baby's head visibly slipped back inside his body. The monumental effort made his thick thighs begin to tremble violently against the stirrups, the heavy muscles shaking like jelly under his skin.

The next contraction hit. He pushed, making the tissues of his perineum stretch, but as his breath ran out, the baby slipped back again.

"Again, Marcus, push now! Don't let her slip back!" Lena urged, her voice fierce with support.

Marcus bore down with everything he had left. His face turned dark purple as he unleashed a powerful bellow, "OHHH-OH-OHHH! Get this thing out of me! GET IT OUT!"

His opening stretched wider than before, the skin of his perineum turning stark white with the sheer strain. This time, when he finally released the push, the head kept his vagina open.

Another violent push, and his vagina opened visibly wider. Marcus just grunted, a deep, primal sound. Ben stood entirely astounded, his jaw slack.

As Marcus caught a brief break, his eyes went huge, staring wildly around the room.

"Marcus," Dr. Reed said softly. "Do you want to reach down and feel the head?"

He shook his head, then paused, changing his mind. Slowly, with a trembling hand, he reached over the massive slope of his bump, down between his thick thighs, and gently touched the wet, firm crown of the head poking from his vagina. His breath hitched.

"She's…she’s right there," he whispered, his voice cracking as tears welled in his exhausted eyes. As he looked up to Lena.

"OH! I'm... I'm about to contract again," he stammered.

Instantly, he pulled his massive legs even wider and pushed with a guttural roar. His body gaped unbelievably wide, the violet tissues stretching into a full, agonizing crown. He fell back, panting, his entire body shaking uncontrollably from the sheer exertion.

He got a short rest, his birth canal gaping open around the baby's head. He couldn't even speak.

"You are nearly there, Marcus," Dr. Reed told him. "Just one or two more pushes."

Lena gently wiped the pouring sweat from his brow. Ben seemed frozen in a stupor, entirely mesmerized by the miracle happening in front of him.

"You are so strong, Marcus. You're doing it," Julia praised him again.

Suddenly, his belly hardened, squeezing itself into an steel ball. Marcus closed his eyes shut and tried not to push, trying to breathe through the burn, but his body violently compelled him. He roared, bearing down with unstoppable force, and the baby's head finally started to slip free.

Marcus released a wild and hysterical cry, “heiiiiiyyyyyyiiiiii,” as the baby’s head surged free from his gaping birth canal. An explosive gush of residual amniotic fluid immediately followed as the slippery mass of the body exited. Marcus let out a massive sigh of relief, “ohhhhaaaa-haaaaaa.” followed by a second of silence, then the high-pitched Waaah! Waaah! Waaah! of the newborn crying in Dr. Reed’s arms.

"He's out…I mean, SHE’S out!" Dr. Reed corrected happily.

The room dissolved into a bedlam of relief and emotion. Lena immediately buried her face in Marcus’s shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. Ben sobbed, tears streaming down his face. “She’s here... oh, Marcus, she’s actually here.”

Marcus collapsed back onto the pillow, completely spent. His chest heaved like a bellows as he caught his breath, his thick arms trembling uncontrollably from the adrenaline crash. As his breathing slowed, he wearily opened his eyes and watched the baby he had just delivered take the first breaths of life.

His eyes still blurry, he smiled as Dr. Reed moved with practiced speed, wiping the infant down before placing the crying bundle, a girl, onto his bare torso.

A wave of emotion overtook him, and he forgot all the pain, the pressure, the splitting open that birthing this perfect child had required. He looked down in awe of the tiny, wrinkled, perfectly formed human lying on his deflated belly. He seemed to drink in the moment, the smell of the little one, the beautiful sound of her little voice crying, and the feel of her body against his skin.

Tears began streaming freely down his face, mixing with the sweat already covering his brow. He slowly looked from the baby to Lena, then to Ben. "She's perfect. She’s beautiful," Marcus whispered, his voice a wrecked croak.

Julia softly lifted the umbilical cord and watched the thick tube as it ceased pulsing. She placed two clamps onto the cord. She turned toward Marcus and asked gently, “Who’s cutting the cord?”

Marcus smiled towards Ben. He stumbled initially, but his voice regained its normal gentle authority. "B-Ben. Would you like to do the honors, Dad?"

Ben nodded, his lips pressed tight to hold back a sob. His hand shook as Dr. Reed handed him the surgical scissors. He gazed down at the thick, purplish-white cord connecting his daughter to the placenta still tucked inside Marcus’s uterus. He fumbled slightly, his soft hands shaking as he held the sharp scissors.

“That’s it, Ben,” Dr. Reed coached, pointing to the spot between the two clamps. “Just a firm, clean snip.”

Ben took a deep breath and looked at his daughter. He pressed the blades together and the cord severed with a tough, rubbery crunch. He placed the scissors down reverently, then he reached out and gently touched the baby’s cheek with a single, trembling finger.

Immediately after the cut, Dr. Reed turned her attention back to Marcus’s abdomen, which was now soft and squishy. “Marcus, we’re entering the third stage of labor. The placenta needs to come out now. Don't worry, it’s nothing compared to birthing the baby.”

She began to gently knead Marcus’s lower abdomen with firm, rhythmic pressure. She murmured softly, "This is a uterine massage; it helps your uterus contract down and encourages the placenta to detach.”

As Dr. Reed worked, Ben and Lena leaned closer to Marcus, their faces hovering over their daughter.

“We did it, Marcus,” Lena whispered, tears of joy running onto his chest. “Look at her, look at her little nose. She’s gorgeous.” Ben wiped his eyes. “She is… she is the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.”

Marcus grunted softly from the uterine massage, but never stopped examining every centimeter of the warm, wriggling baby on his chest. He let out a sharper groan as a more powerful contraction pulsed through his uterus.

He looked up at Lena and asked lovingly, “Would you like to hold your daughter?” Lena nodded vigorously and reached out her arms. As she took the baby into her loving embrace, tears streamed down the new mom’s face.

Ben stood beside Lena and gazed into his daughter’s face. He said, “What do you think, Lena? Should we name her after your grandmother? Beatrice?”

Marcus waited for a pause, then interjected. "Oh, Beatrice. I like it. A strong name."

Lena shook her head, “No, no. Beatrice will be a fine middle name, but she’s going to be named after the man who carried her. This is Marcia Beatrice.”

Ben nodded, clearly happy with the decision. He looked at the tiny, red-faced girl. "Welcome to the world, Marcia Beatrice."

Marcus let out a soft grunt, “uhhh, huuuu-oooo,” as Dr. Reed gently tugged on the umbilical cord that was still buried in his vagina. “Give me a little push, ok Marcus?” Dr. Reed soothed.

Marcus gritted his teeth and gave a small push. As Dr. Reed pulled, Marcus’s vagina widened and the placenta slowly emerged from his birth canal. A heavy gush came from between his legs as the organ fell into a basin. Dr. Reed said, satisfied, “And there’s the afterbirth, perfect and complete. Great job, Marcus.”

Marcus exhaled heavily, sinking into the damp pillows. With the delivery of the placenta that had been Marcia Beatrice’s lifeline for the last nine months, his duty as a surrogate was finally, officially over. His battered body was his own again. His identity shifted as the placenta flopped into the basin: he was no longer the surrogate, the vessel. He was now free to be Uncle Marcus.

Julia stepped in and told Lena, “Let’s get this little lady weighed, ok?” Julia gently took the baby and started a newborn exam in a cradle against the wall. Lena squeezed her brother’s shoulder again and said, “Man, you were amazing Marcus. Thank you, thank you again brother.”

As Marcus accepted the thanks, Dr. Reed used a light to examine the tissues of Marcus’s vagina. She said, “Marcus, you handled delivery like a champion. You just have a minor first-degree tear. Nothing to worry about. I’ll stitch you up right now, just a few quick dissolvable sutures.”

Marcus flinched slightly as Dr. Reed administered the local anesthetic and began the repair. Ben patted Marcus’s forearm and said, “You were unbelievable man, that was insane. I knew you were strong, but what you just did was the mightiest thing I’ve ever seen someone do.”

Marcus nodded. Distracted by the conversation, the stitching in his vagina felt distant to Marcus.

As Dr. Reed placed the final stitch, Marcus looked at her between his legs. “Doctor,” Marcus asked, his voice low but steady, “Now that I know I can do this. Um…um, well…is there any biological reason I couldn’t carry again at some point?”

Dr. Reed smiled while trimming the suture. “Physiologically? No reason at all, Marcus. Your anatomy handled pregnancy, labor, and delivery beautifully. Your recovery will be fast and easy. We recommend eighteen months before you get pregnant again to minimize risks.”

Marcus looked at Lena and Ben. A slow, warm smile spread across his tired, bearded face.

“Lena, Ben,” Marcus said, looking from his sister to his brother-in-law, “Marcia Beatrice is going to need a sibling, you know?”

As their mouths dropped, Marcus continued. “I’ll do this again for you, ya know. If you’d like…”

“Oh, you would?” Lena sobbed. “You’re amazing.”

They all watched Marcia Beatrice’s examination. As Julia finished up, she told the parents, “She’s perfect. Eight pounds, two ounces.”

Ben beamed, carefully taking his newly swaddled daughter into his arms. With the baby safely with her father, Lena stepped away from the warming cradle and moved back to her brother's bedside. She looked suddenly shy, her hands hidden behind her back.

"Marcus," she started softly. "You know...it’s customary to give a push present to a mom after she delivers.” She glanced at Ben, then back to her brother. "Ben and I talked about it, and we decided that just because you're a guy doesn't mean you should miss out on the tradition. You did the work, so you get a gift."

She brought her hands forward, revealing an arrangement that looked like a bouquet. But instead of flowers, it was a thick cluster of colorful plastic gift cards taped to skewers.

Ben stepped up, grinning. "We hit all of them, man. We got Home Depot, Lowe's, Harbor Freight, and the local lumber yard."

Marcus’s tired eyes widened, a genuine, boyish thrill cutting through his exhaustion. He reached out, his large, calloused fingers brushing over the orange and blue logos. "Are you serious? This is... wow. You guys didn't have to do this." A slow grin spread into his beard. "I’ve been eyeing a twelve-inch sliding compound miter saw for months. This definitely covers it."

"That's great, Marcus," Ben said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He looked down at his shoes, then met his brother-in-law's eyes with a newfound respect. "Actually... I was kind of hoping that maybe, once you're recovered and you buy the saw... you could show me how to use it? I’m useless with that stuff, but... I’d like to learn. Maybe we could build something for the baby together?"

"Yeah," Marcus rasped, his voice thick with emotion. "I’d like that, Ben. I’d like that a lot."

---

The text message came two days after Marcus got home from the hospital. Marcus was lying on his couch with an ice pack tucked between his legs against his sore vagina. His belly was still a soft, swollen pouch that jiggled when he laughed, but the discomfort was fading. He knew he was on the fast track to recovery. He picked up the phone.

Unknown Number: Hey Marcus! It’s Julia. I’m finally sending you the legendary selfie with the pumpkin. Hope the recovery is going smoothly and the baby is doing well. It was an honor to be part of your surrogacy journey!

Marcus smiled. He had received many congratulatory messages over the past few days, but this one was extra special. As he started typing a reply, another message came.

You can text me with any random recovery questions, or questions about the baby. The question I really want you to ask... is if I'll go out on a date with you 😉

Marcus let out a booming laugh, his deep baritone finally back to normal. But the sound was cut short by a sharp hiss. Marcus folded forward, his large hands flying down to cradle his sore, deflated belly as his battered core muscles and stitched vagina reminded him that he was only seventy-two hours out from pushing an eight-pound baby out of his body. He started typing.

Marcus was, in every sense of the word, a man. He was six-foot-five, built like a brick foundation, and possessed a beard that could host a small bird family. He was a kind, stoic, and serious man. He ran a very successful high-end general contracting business, and he preferred flannel and the smell of sawdust to anything remotely whimsical. Which was why he found himself, at thirty-nine and a half weeks pregnant, feeling deeply, hilariously, ridiculous.

Marcus lumbered into the doorway of his sister and brother-in-law’s brightly decorated living room, his big belly leading the way. Lena and Ben had invited him to their annual Halloween celebration, but everyone knew it was really a pre-labor party for the pregnant man. Marcus was in the home stretch of his pregnancy.

“There he is! The guest of honor!” Ben called out, rushing over and shaking Marcus’s hand. Ben’s hands were soft and smooth, the hands of an accountant who drove a hybrid, didn't hunt, and didn't even mow his own yard. Ben asked, “how’s our baby doing today?” Marcus rubbed his belly gently, as he answered. “He’s ready to come out and meet his parents, it’s definitely getting close.”

Marcus had, very reluctantly, agreed to carry this baby for Ben and Lena after Lena found out she was infertile and after Ben inexplicably failed to assume the task of carrying his own child. Somehow Lena had convinced Marcus, the manliest man in their zip code, to do the most feminine thing in the world. And so, today Marcus was on the precipice of delivering a baby conceived from Lena’s egg and Ben’s sperm.

Ben paused, looking Marcus up and down. “Wow, my gosh, Marcus, I think you’ve gotten even bigger since Monday. How are you feeling, man?” Marcus groaned. “Not that bad, but I’ve certainly been better, ya know? I hit the gym this morning and my bench press has dropped by a full 90 pounds.”

A sharp flash of bitter resentment hit Marcus. He looked at Ben, soft-handed, unburdened, the man who wouldn't know a Phillips head from a flat head, standing completely relaxed while Marcus was literally carrying Ben’s burden, yet Ben stood there asking, How are you feeling? as if Marcus was merely recovering from a cold.

Ben laughed nervously, gesturing toward Marcus’s enormous belly. “Well, I’m sure you’re still benching more than I can, buddy.” Marcus sighed heavily, the sound coming out as a strained puff of air. “I’m down to three-fifteen.” Ben’s eyes went wide. “Pounds? Three hundred fifteen pounds? Marcus, that’s probably three times what I can bench press! You’re carrying a full human and still lifting that kind of weight. You’re, you’re…amazing.”

“I’m just highly annoyed,” Marcus muttered under his breath, stepping past him toward the kitchen. He often wondered what his sister, beautiful, athletic, and gregarious, ever saw in Ben. But he kept those thoughts locked down. Lena was happy, and his only desire was to support her, no matter the physical or societal cost.

There were some unintended benefits of being pregnant, though. Marcus had worried that his big belly would scare off his high-end clientele. Surprisingly, it had done the opposite. The sight of the big, bearded contractor reviewing plans with a massive belly protruding had made him more relatable to the rich housewives with money to spend on home renovations. They saw him as a big teddy bear, a hero making a huge personal sacrifice, and that made them allies. And as his belly grew, their husbands suddenly weren’t threatened by the fit, strong, handsome man. Business was booming.

Lena gave Marcus a relieved hug, but her focus was intense. “I have a wonderful idea,” she chirped, pulling him toward the breakfast room table where jars of paint were already laid out. “Since it’s Halloween, can we please, please paint your belly like a pumpkin? It’s so perfectly round!”

Marcus’s eyebrows dropped. “Lena, no, absolutely not. I’m not a carnival sideshow, no way.” Lena playfully pouted, “Come on, please?” grabbing his massive hand. “It'll be hilarious and a great picture to show the baby one day.”

Marcus groaned internally. He could deny Lena nothing. “Fine, but I’m only doing this for my little nephew,” he said as he rubbed his rotund abdomen again.

Marcus slowly unbuttoned his heavy flannel shirt. The sight was startlingly contradictory. The chest above was a thick slab of muscle, lightly dusted with dark hair. His lower torso was rugged, but the spherical shape thrusting forward was smooth and taut. The skin was tight, stretched to a fine sheen, appearing strangely feminine and delicate against the contrast of his massive arms and beard.

He obediently sat in a chair while Lena and Ben painted his tummy. It felt silly, and surprisingly vulnerable, letting them stroke his pregnant belly with a wet brush. “Oh, it’s beautiful,” Lena breathed, dipping a sponge brush into the bright orange paint. “You’re looking great, Marcus!”

As she said this, the baby kicked and danced, making Marcus’s orange belly undulate. Marcus sniped, “see Lena, the baby is trying to kick off the paint. Even he knows this is ridiculous.” Lena continued her work, saying “I think he loves it, he’s dancing for joy in there!” Marcus grumbled, forcing his gaze away from Ben as he quietly reminded himself: It’s for her. Only for Lena.

Once the grinning, jagged pumpkin face was complete, Lena held up a small brush with black paint. “Just one more thing!” she exclaimed. With careful strokes, she added the words: “Don’t eat the pumpkin seeds” with an arrow pointing directly at his belly button.

Marcus squinted at the note. “Really, Lena?” It made him even more of a spectacle. But he just sighed and shook his head, too tired to argue. Ben chuckled, “That’s hilarious!” clapping Marcus on the shoulder. “Except, it’s my seed you’re carrying, not pumpkin seeds, man.”

Marcus froze, a muscle in his jaw twitching. He locked eyes with Ben, a silent, furious warning passing between them. Ben, realizing his quip had crossed the line, quickly backed away from his brother-in-law.

Once Ben had wisely wandered off to check the party setup, Lena stood back, admiring her work. “Okay, my pumpkin,” she said softly, wrapping him in a gentle hug, “Now tell me, really, how are you?”

Marcus let out a long, heavy breath. “Physically, I’m drained. It’s like carrying a 30-pound watermelon attached to my spine all the time. But overall, I’m good. Excited. Just… anxious.” He rubbed a hand over his flanks. “I keep asking myself why I chose the natural route for the delivery. The doctors said it’s significantly more demanding for us guys. I know the C-section option would be easier.”

Lena squeezed him tighter. “You chose it because you’re a freakin’ force of nature and because it’s the best option for your nephew and for your recovery. You’re the strongest guy I know, Marcus. And I need you to know how deeply I appreciate what you’re doing, all you’ve already done. You’re giving me everything, brother.”

He softened at her words. “I know, Lena. I know.” She pulled away, chewing on her lip, her expression shifting to one of apology. “Umm, so…regarding the delivery. There is something else I need to ask you. Ben wants to be in the delivery room, I’m so sorry to ask, but…”

Marcus’s entire massive frame went rigid. “NO! Absolutely not! That was literally my one, single condition I set before I agreed to be your surrogate. Just you, me, and the medical staff in the room. That’s it.”

“I know, I know,” Lena rushed to say, holding up her hands defensively. “I already talked him down from wanting to catch the baby himself and cut the cord. He’s been watching videos and trying to learn how to catch if the doctors will let him. I told him that was completely off-limits, but Marcus….he just wants to be there for the birth of his child. It would mean so much to him. Please…?”

Marcus began to pace around the breakfast room with a heavy, rocking waddle. “Lena, do you have any idea what this is going to be like? It won’t be like a movie scene where I grit my teeth and wipe a little sweat. It’s going to be raw and visceral. There will be fluids, noise, and undignified exertion. And it all happens….down there!” he said, gesturing to his crotch. He stopped, his eyes pleading with her. “I don’t want him seeing me like that. I just…can’t.”

Marcus looked down at the pumpkin painted on his pregnant belly, and sighed, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. He could only endure so much of Lena’s pleading gaze.

“Fine,” he conceded, the word coming out as a heavy grunt. “He can be in the room. But he stays by your side, he keeps his mouth shut, and he never looks south of my waist. Got it?”

Lena threw her arms around his neck, hugging her brother tight. “Thank you, Marcus. I love you.”

Marcus grumbled, “Yeah, yeah. I hear your guests coming in. You better go get the punch and hors d’oeuvres ready,” he muttered while adjusting his flannel shirt, but keeping it open for the guests to ogle.

Eventually, at least 20 guests filled the house, all dressed in costume. Marcus navigated the crowd with a waddle, making small talk with everyone. He tried to talk about various topics, but most of the guests kept bringing the discussion back to his pregnancy. His pumpkin-faced belly swelled and stretched with every movement of the big baby inside his womb.

Around nine o’clock, while talking to a neighbor about the upcoming Broncos game, Marcus paused mid-sentence. “Whoa,” he muttered, his strong hands instantly pressing against the lower curve of his belly. “

What is it?” Lena asked instantly, her eyes sharp with worry. “Just a big kick,” he lied. The feeling had been nothing like a kick. It was a slow, immense squeeze, like a great python coiling around his diaphragm and sinking down into his hips before finally dissolving. By the time he left the party at 10:30 p.m., these deep aches were happening occasionally. They gripped the entirety of his core, tightening the painted pumpkin on his stomach making the grinning Jack-o'-lantern face strain and flex with each wave.

He decided to try to sleep it off at his nearby house, but around 1:00am, a painful contraction made him sit up.

He looked at his phone, his thumb hovering over Lena’s name, but he knew if he called now, she’d make Ben drive him to the hospital. The notion of being driven anywhere while in labor, especially by soft-handed Ben, was an indignity his pride couldn't stomach. He needed to be behind the wheel of his familiar pickup to maintain some illusion of control.

It was a long and uncomfortable drive, but Marcus eventually backed his truck into a parking spot with practiced precision and lumbered through the ER entrance, pausing to check his reflection in the glass: six-foot-five, bearded, glistening with sweat, and sporting a massive belly.

A harried triage nurse quickly sent him to a sterile and brightly lit delivery room for evaluation. Marcus had barely lowered his bulk onto the bed when the door opened and a young nurse, perhaps in her early twenties, dressed in crisp teal scrubs entered. She was attractive, with sandy hair, kind eyes and plentiful energy.

“Hello! I’m Julia, and I’ll be your nurse,” she chirped, carrying a tablet. She glanced around the empty room, then back at Marcus's massive, pregnant form. She leaned in conspiratorially. “Is the other father joining you soon? Or did they already try to leave the premises? That happens sometimes” she teased gently.

Marcus stifled a contraction-fueled groan and managed a tight smile. “Well, the father, Ben, is still at home with my sister, Lena. He watched her expression shift to confusion, then he provided the necessary explanation. “I’m the surrogate, ma’am. Ben’s wife, Lena, is my sister. I’m carrying this baby for them.”

“Oh!” Julia’s cheeks flushed a bright pink. She quickly flicked her gaze to the medical chart on her tablet. “I am so sorry, Mr. Marcus. I haven’t had a chance to read your chart yet. I just… I’m sorry for assuming.” She looked up again, her apology fading into a look of admiration that lingered on his chest and beard before dropping to his abdomen. “Well, I think it’s wonderful. Truly. What a beautiful sacrifice you’re making for your sister. Do you have a wife or maybe a girlfriend coming to be your support person?”

Marcus shook his head. “Nah, I’m not married. And a girlfriend? Ha, Julia, let’s be honest, since I started showing my dating game has been in a big slump.”

Julia laughed, a little too loud, but her eyes were still glued to him. “Really? I’m kinda surprised. A lot of the pregnant men we see are practically sex symbols. It shows maturity and commitment, and that drives some women wild. And in your case, you’re also six-foot-five and fit and attractive…”

Julia's eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed dark pink. She instantly slapped a hand over her mouth, realizing she said too much. “I mean! I mean, that is truly wonderful dedication! I need to get your blood pressure!” She quickly busied herself with the cuff, her movements suddenly shaky, clearly flustered.

Marcus, despite the rising pain of a new contraction, couldn't help but let a grin spread across his face. Julia wasn’t the first woman to get flustered around the big, strong, handsome guy.

She released the pressure and unstrapped the cuff, her fingers brushing his massive forearm. “Alright, Marcus. The first thing we need to do is put you on the external fetal monitor to track the baby’s heart rate and your contractions. I’m going to strap two belts around your tummy to hold the sensors in place, right over your uterus. I'll need you to lift or remove your shirt so I can place them.”

Marcus pushed himself up a little and slowly unbuttoned the rest of his flannel. He peeled it off, dropping it onto the bed. The orange and black pumpkin face stretching tautly across the immense globe of his abdomen, was now fully exposed.

Julia froze; the fetal monitor and belt clutched in her hand. Her eyes went wide, and her jaw dropped slightly as she stared at the enormous, grinning Jack-o’-lantern painted across his torso. The sight of the massive, bearded man with a pumpkin belly was so utterly contradictory and unexpected that she let out a half-giggle, half-snort.

Marcus was still for a second, then a deep rumble of laughter, raw and strained around the edges of a contraction, escaped him. “I know, I know,” he managed, chuckling lightly as he rubbed his beard. “It was Lena’s idea. Said it was too perfectly round not to. Unfortunately, I just can’t say no to my little sis. It’s how I ended up like this,” he said while pointing at his big, orange baby bump.

Julia recovered from her laughter and said, “I think it’s truly fantastic, a brilliant work of art.” She looked up at him, her eyes shining with warmth. "You're a great sport, Mr Marcus."

“Ah, I’m a tired sport,” he sighed, managing another tight smile. As she strapped the monitors around his big tummy, he added, “Hey, please, just call me Marcus. All this ‘Mr.’ business is pretty formal considering what I’m about to do.”

Julia smiled, “Then you can call me Julia. And you can stop with the ‘ma’am,’ too. Marcus chuckled, the sound tight in his chest. “Deal. Marcus and Julia it is.”

Julia turned and headed for the door. “I’m going to let this run for about twenty minutes while I get some things ready. I’ll be back soon. Just breathe and try to relax through the next few waves, okay? Press the call button if you need me.”

Marcus nodded, accepting the solitude. Over the next twenty minutes, the pressure in his belly ratcheted higher with each surge. It was no longer a dull ache; each contraction was a squeeze, forcing a tight, focused breath from his chest. He gripped the bedsheet, riding the crest of each wave and counting the seconds until it receded. This is it, he realized with a stark certainty that cleared his anxiety. This is real labor.

The door swished open and Julia returned. For a second the two shared eye contact and a smile, then she rushed to scan the monitor, which charted the baby’s heart rate and the intensity of Marcus’s contractions. She pointed to a series of high, tight peaks on the paper.

“Well, Marcus, this tells us everything we need to know,” she said, her voice bright with certainty. “Those are strong, sustained contractions, and looking at the timing, you’re definitely in active labor.”

Marcus let out a slow, controlled exhale. "Real deal, huh?"

“Real deal,” Julia confirmed cheerfully. “It would probably be a good time to tell the intended parents to start making their way to the hospital.”

Marcus nodded, accepting the inevitable. He reached for his phone and called Lena. After a moment, a sleepy voice answered.

“H’llo?” Lena mumbled.

“Hey sis. Pumpkin harvest has officially commenced,” Marcus stated, his voice tight from the next rising contraction. “I’m in active labor at the hospital, so you guys should start making your way to the maternity center, I’m in room 346. Love you.”

There was a beat of silence, followed by a startled, excited squeak. “Oh, Marcus! Okay! We’re coming! Oh my gosh!! We’re on our way!” before the call ended.

"Julia," Marcus said, his voice dropping low, revealing a thread of vulnerability she hadn't heard before. "The epidural is still an option, right? Be honest with me. Can I... can a guy really do this naturally? These contractions are already a lot."

Julia gave him a steady, reassuring look. "Absolutely you can, Marcus. I’ve helped several males through natural deliveries. It's challenging, but I’ll be here every step of the way, and yes, the epidural is always an option if you change your mind, no judgment, ever."

Marcus stared past her at the ceiling, his massive hands flexing into tight fists on the sheets. He muttered, “I can do it. I’m doing this!”

Julia's smile widened with approval. "That's the spirit, Marcus. You can do this, I know you can."

After getting another blood pressure reading, Julia cleared her throat. “So, your chart indicates you want to try the tub for labor, which is a great idea. I love it when my patients use the tub, it’s an awesome resource.

Marcus nodded, “yeah, it was highly recommended to me. I hope it will help.”

Julia continued, “we should get you changed into some swimwear. And also, I’m sorry to say, but for sanitation, we really have to scrub this masterpiece off your belly before you get into the tub.” She gestured to the massive pumpkin on his belly.

Marcus managed a tight, pain-filled smirk. “Good. Get it off me. I’m glad to be rid of the silly thing.”

Julia giggled, “Wait, wait. Before we destroy the evidence, we should get a picture for your sister!”

Marcus sighed, managing a tight roll of his eyes. “Fine. One.”

Julia stepped close to the bed, and leaned in next to his bearded face, centering the shot to include both of their heads and his orange, straining pumpkin belly between them. “Say Jack-o’-lantern!” she whispered and snapped the photo.

Julia quickly said, “I’ll text it to you later,” before going back to business with basin of warm water and a soft sponge.

Marcus tensed as Julia gently began wiping the paint off his abdomen. The warm, soft touch of her hands moving slow circles across his big, round belly, already sensitive from the contractions, felt strangely intimate. She was focused, her lower lip caught between her teeth in concentration as she gently wiped the last remnants of paint away revealing his smooth, pale skin underneath.

The door opened and Dr. Reed strode in. She was a portly woman in her forties with sharp, intelligent eyes. She offered Marcus a warm, disarming smile.

"Hi there, Marcus. I'm Evelyn Reed, the on-call doctor tonight. I'll be overseeing your labor and delivery," Dr. Reed said, washing her hands briskly. "Julia gave me the rundown. I hear you're the surrogate carrying for your sister? I have a lot of experience with male deliveries. You’re in good hands. When you have questions, don't hold back, ok?”

Marcus let out a weak chuckle. "Thanks, Doctor."

"Please, call me Evelyn," she replied as she approached the bed. She placed a hand on his newly scrubbed, massive abdomen. "And what a magnificent belly, looks like you’ve done a great job hosting this baby. Let's see how our little one is doing."

She began her external exam, placing her palms flat against the massive, smooth surface of his belly. Her touch was firm and methodical. She started by locating the fundus, the very top of his uterus, to estimate the baby's size and position. Her fingers then moved in slow, skilled arcs, pressing gently on his sides to feel the baby's shape and then moving lower to his pelvic bowl, where the baby's head was nestled, assessing how low and engaged the baby was in his narrow male pelvis.

As she examined, Dr. Reed said, “Marcus, we use clinical terms like cervix, vagina, and birth canal because they are the most precise. I know some males prefer alternative terms. Do you have a preference, or are you comfortable with me using the standard medical language during your labor and delivery?"

Marcus hesitated, looking away from her face and down at the sheets. He spoke in a low voice, thick with both embarrassment and resignation. "No, doctor. You can use those terms, I’m ok with it. Please just...use the terms that help you do your job."

The door swished open and another young nurse, equally pretty with dark hair, wheeled in a large, portable deep tub. "Tub delivery!" she announced cheerfully.

"Perfect timing, Mia," Dr. Reed murmured. Julia, who had been standing by Marcus's side immediately crossed the room to help Mia start filling the portable tub with warm water. Julia exchanged a quick, knowing glance with Mia, a spark of shared amusement passed between the two nurses about the sexy, pregnant man on the bed.

Marcus watched the two nurses from the corner of his eye. He didn't need to hear the words; the soft, stifled giggling and the shared glances they kept shooting toward the bed, where the giant pregnant man was laboring, were confirmation enough. He knew exactly what they were saying about the spectacle, the sight of the six-foot-five, bearded man, his belly shiny and bare, being prepped for the most feminizing act of his life. He was officially the hottest, most absurd, labor case this hospital staff had ever seen.

Doctor Reed broke the silence, “Alright, we’re all set. Things look good. Let’s get you into that warm, soothing water, Marcus.”

Marcus nodded and pushed himself up from the exam bed, his enormous frame rising slowly. The effort was visible in his muscles. His faded, dark jeans rode low beneath the massive, taut expanse of his belly, which swelled outward, smooth and pale.

He paused, feeling the gaze of Julia and Mia. He quickly unfastened the button and zipper of his jeans. As the denim gave way, he turned his back to the nurses. His jeans dropped heavily to the floor, leaving him fully exposed only from the waist down, revealing the stretch marks fanning across his hips and the powerful curve of his lower back and buttocks.

Julia and Mia exchanged a look, a mix of professional curiosity overlaid with disappointment at the blocked view of what they really wanted to see…his dick.

Marcus didn't waste a moment. He quickly pulled on his black mesh swim trunks.. Then, with the help of the two women, he carefully lowered his massive bulk into the deep, warm water of the tub. The force of him settling in displaced the water with a violent slosh, causing a small wave to crash onto the floor and splash Julia and Mia’s shoes.

The water provoked an instant, deep sigh of relief. The weight of the baby vanished. He floated, feeling the incredible lightness that the water provided. The pressure released from his spine, his lower back relaxed, and the tension that had been locked in his legs began to dissolve. He leaned back against the submerged curve of the tub, resting his pregnant body.

The stillness was broken less than a minute later. A low, familiar tension began to coil deep in his abdomen, the tightening quickly building. But it didn't slam into him with the violence of the contractions on the bed. Suspended in the water, it felt more like a slow-rolling tide. The sharp pain was replaced by an enveloping pressure. He shut his eyes and focused on the rhythmic splashing of the water against the tub as he breathed in and out.

Julia crouched by the edge of the tub, keeping a hand near his shoulder. "That was a good one, Marcus. You rode that wave really well," she murmured, her voice steady. Marcus muttered, “can we talk about something? Anything to keep my mind distracted.”

Julia started speaking softly. "Sure, Marcus. I’d love to. I’ll tell you about my weekend plans. My older brother is finally coming home on leave from the Navy. I’m counting the minutes! He's been deployed for nine months and I really miss him."

Marcus grunted as the contraction subsided. He tilted his head toward her. "Oh, good for him. I’m sure you miss him. Is he in the surface Navy or is he on subs?”

Julia blinked, intrigued. "Wow, that's, um, specific. He’s a, uh, an intelligence officer on the USS Carl Vinson. You seem to know a lot about the Navy. Did you serve?"

Before he could answer, a strong squeeze started to overtake him. "Deep breath, you got this," Julia coached, catching the sudden furrow in his brow as the next contraction began to take hold. When he finally exhaled the peak of the wave, he managed to push the words out.

"Yeah, Army. I was a Black Hawk pilot," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I got out five years ago. Now I build things. I’m a contractor. I like it, but sometimes I miss the thrill of flying helicopters."

They talked for the next hour trying to keep the laboring man distracted. Marcus was working hard, but it was clear the steady flow of contractions were achieving their purpose. Dr. Reed walked back into the room with quiet purpose, pulling on a pair of latex gloves.

"Mr. Marcus, wonderful. I hear you’re doing great in the tub, but we need to see where you're at," she said, washing her hands. "Time for an internal exam. We need to see how dilated your cervix is."

Marcus swallowed hard, feeling a spike of pure, awkward humiliation. This was it. The big strong, manly Army veteran was about to submit to this most intimate, and, in his mind, most feminizing, of procedures.

He hauled himself out of the tub. The black mesh shorts, now soaked, clung revealingly to his huge, muscled legs and the soft curve of his hips. The material clung to his body, offering no concealment of the massive penis silhouetted by his wet shorts. Julia and Mia certainly noticed, sharing a glance and sly grin.

He peeled his shorts off, letting them drop to the floor. Dr Reed offered him a towel to cover his male parts as he climbed onto the exam bed. He swung his legs up into the cold, metal stirrups, his legs shaking from the cold, or maybe nervousness.

Marcus watched as Dr Reed squeezed a generous dollop of clear, cool lubricant onto the back of her gloved fingers. “Just relax. Deep breath," she instructed gently. "I'm going to reach inside your vagina Marcus and reach up to check your cervix. You’ll feel pressure, but I’ll be gentle.”

Marcus did his best, but his whole body was tense. He knew he looked ridiculous: a giant man splayed out, legs open, about to let Dr Reed put her hand inside his birth canal.

The doctor placed a cool, gloved hand on his inner thigh, murmuring a reassurance. She carefully advanced two fingers into his birth canal. Marcus winced, gripping the bed rails as the initial pressure made him gasp. Dr. Reed eased her hand further, past the knuckles, deep enough to properly evaluate Marcus’s cervix.

As she palpated his most sensitive parts, Marcus released a thick, strangled grunt, his toes curling in the stirrups. At that exact moment, the door burst open.

"Marcus! We're here!" Lena cried out, followed immediately by Ben.

Pale light, shimmering through the silk shade of the bedside lamp makes your skin glow. On the floor of the classy hotel room articles of men’s clothing are strewn about. On the nightstand, there’s a Rolex Submariner next to a half-empty bottle of vintage Bordeaux. You inhale deeply, enjoying the expensive cologne your date wears. Overall, it’s a fairly normal Saturday evening.

You ponder your life’s choices as you slowly bend your nude body over the bed, making sure to poke your tooshie high for the man behind you to admire. His exclamation, “fuck baby, that’s a nice peach,” gives you reassurance that he’s still into you. Very into you. You peer backwards towards him with a practiced gaze, giggle lightly, and bat your green eyes at him, enticing him onwards.

To steel yourself for what’s about to happen, you take some deep breaths, then you take a mouthful of the 1000 thread count bedsheets and bite down. It’s certainly not the first time you’ve let a man fuck you in the ass, but the particular man behind you tonight, Dan, is hung like a horse. You know it’s going to be a chore to pleasure him, but it’s literally your job. You’re an upscale male escort. You’ve already had dinner with Dan, small talk at the bar, and let him make out with you on the hotel bed. Now, it’s time to really earn your hefty fee tonight.

A light touch on your hip sends a shiver through your spine and you jerk from the startle. Dan says, “ready, you little bitch?” You just nod with the sheets still clamped in your mouth. Dan’s hands grasp around your flanks and you feel the heat of his body near your bare backdoor. You know it’s about to happen, Dan’s about to stuff his anaconda inside you and you’ll have to pretend to enjoy it. The truth is that you definitely will enjoy it. Getting plowed by big, powerful men has always been your thing.

Dan isn’t necessarily good looking, but he’s tall, very muscled, and carries himself like a senator. His power is undeniable, and the fact that he’s endowed with a penis larger than you’ve ever seen turns you on even more. You literally gasped in shock when you pulled down his pants and found the extensive shaft buried under his fine wool trousers.

Suddenly, Dan’s massive cock is pressing against your hole, on the precipice of dominating you. You moan, “oh baby, I’m sooo ready for you. Fill me, Dan. Fill me up, big boy.” Dan obliges, pulling your body towards him with his hands while pushing his meat harder at your entrance.

You feel the tight ring of your anus stretch. You love the sensation of accepting a new man into your body. But your eyes pop as the stretching continues impossibly around the significant girth of Dan’s dick. A grunt comes from you, “uhhhh, uhhhhhggg, uhhhhhggg,” as the big stretch becomes painful, then you accidentally emit an embarrassing whimper, “ehhhhi, heehhhi.”

An impulse of force comes from Dan that propels his bigness past your opening and into your ass. You cry as he spears partway into you, “huuuyy, aaiiii!” He asks, a bit mockingly, “do you like that baby?” You respond with a line you’ve practiced, “mmmm, oh Dan, you make me feel so good. Mmmm, keep going big guy.”

Despite your positive words, your eyes water from the pressure radiating through your body. You wonder if you can actually handle the guy behind you. It feels like he’s totally filled you, but you know you have several more inches of Dan to take.

Dan doesn’t give you any mercy. He humps into you, giving you all of his 10 inches, making you bite harder on the sheets in your mouth. You arch your back and you grunt, “uhhhhgg! uhhhhgg!” He totally bottoms out and your body is consumed by the pressure of Dan’s long, girthy member. You spread your legs wider, trying to make more space, but it doesn’t seem to help.

Dan humps into you again and you yelp, “ehhhii!” He keeps going, pushing into you over and over and over. Each push makes you yelp, “ehhhii!” You try to make sexier sounds, but the intensity of his fucking gives you no choice but to whimper. Dan grunts each time he pushes, practically growling into your ear. He’s obviously enjoying himself.

For the next 15 minutes Dan fucks your backside with unrelenting vigor. It’s painful and laborious, but you love it. Submitting yourself to Dan’s pummeling is astoundingly stimulating.

Eventually, he mercifully stops and pulls himself out of your ass, making a light pop come from your hole. You slump down, trying to recover during the respite. Dan commands, “roll over, bitch. I want to see your face for this next part, ok?”

You roll over, laying your nude body onto the sheets and spreading your thighs wide to accommodate Dan’s desires. He stands over you like he owns you. His strong body glistens with sweat from the exertion of pummeling your backside for the past 15 minutes. His cock, still menacingly erect, stands ready to impale deep inside you again.

He smirks at you, then he reaches down to his cock with his left hand and deliberately rolls the extra-large condom off his erection and drops it onto the floor. You’re stunned, unsure what to do. It’s literally your only rule; your tricks must wear a condom. Dan even signed a legal contract agreeing to your terms.

Before you can scream out, Dan grabs your hands and pins them at your side. He aims his armed warhead between your spread thighs. Then his warm, hard flesh pierces your delicateness with a powerful motion. You feel every single inch of Dan as he forcibly slides all 10 inches of himself into your body. You groan, “ohhhhhh, uhhhhhhh, ummmmm,” as you accept his penetration.

The mind-blowing pressure in your body makes it hard to form words. You can only manage, “w-wait,  y-you’ll…” Dan smirks again, looking you right in the eye. With his throbbing dick buried inside you, he says, “oh, I know. I know exactly what I’m doing, bitch.”

His honesty shocks you and you gasp. Your worst nightmare is coming true. You’re about to become an unwitting surrogate for Dan.

The big man starts humping you in the missionary position, slamming into you with force you’ve never experienced. Each hump makes you gasp, “uhh! uhh! uhh!” He holds your hands at your side, and you keep gasping, “uhh! uhh! uhh!” as he pounds you over and over.

He bends lower and kisses you, plunging his tongue into your mouth. You submit even more completely, letting Dan French you while he pummels your ass even more forcibly. His mouth mutes your sounds, but you still huff uncontrollably every time he hammers into your butt.

Dan’s massive dick rubs your male g-spot every time it slides in. The mix of unbelievable pressure and the stimulation on your g-spot eventually brings you to the edge of orgasm. Your body tingles and you can feel the erogenous warmth of a coming orgasm.

Dan stops kissing you and says, “you want this, don’t you, bitch? Tell me you want it.” You can’t lie; you do want it. You’re desperate to receive a huge load of Dan’s hot cum.

I WANT IT DAN, I want you to…”

 Dan snarls and says, “you have to tell me what you want, bitch. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to cum inside me, man.”

Dan grunts again and utters, “no, what do you really want, my bitch?”

“I want…I want you to inseminate me. I’ll carry your baby, Dan!”

Dan’s blue eyes pierce into yours as an orgasm overtakes you. Your toes curl uncontrollably, your back arches, and you spasm on Dan’s big dick while crying out, “ahhhhhayyyyy!!! ahhhhhayyyyy!!! ahhhhhayyyyy!!!”

Your body feels like it’s plugged into a live wire, but you can still recognize the sensation of hot cum surging into you. Dan’s ejaculation gushes over, and over, completely flooding your rear. He growls, “guuuuhhh! Ohhhhhhh! Huuuggg!”

Dan finally stops his movements. He bends down and kisses you tenderly on the lips, gently biting your bottom lip as he releases from the kiss.

Then he pulls his deflated penis out of you and quickly dresses. You lay there on the soft bed, still nude, with Dan’s cum dripping from your rear. After a minute, Dan is fully clothed. As he clasps his Rolex on his left wrist, he stands above you and gently embraces your belly with his right hand. He whispers, “you should take a test on Friday. Text me the result, ok bitch? I’ll take care of you if you are…you know.” You nod at him before he turns and leaves you alone in the hotel room.

---

9 months later, you’re lying on a hospital bed. Your legs are spread wide and your bare pregnant belly pokes high. Pain radiates through your back and around the entirety of your big, round tummy.

You breathe quickly, just like you were taught. “He, he, he, he, he, he.” Then another contraction overtakes your womb. Every muscle in your body constricts. Your belly tightens and you cry out, “ahhhhh! ohhhhhhh!” You can sense the baby’s head slowly descending towards your body’s exit, ramming your birth canal open. The massive head is opening you wider than you ever thought was possible.

The doctor between your legs puts his fingers inside you, making the pressure even more extreme. He says, “good! On the next one, I want you to push. You’re fully dilated.”

The nurses pull your thick, juicy thighs wider in the stirrups. You glance at Dan, standing to your left. He’s staring between your legs at your exposed birth canal while you pant, “he, he, he.”

You feel a contraction build, squeezing your uterus tightly. Dan grasps your hand reassuringly as you bear down, pushing his baby towards birth. Your body opens wider, stretching your tissues around the baby’s massive head. You cry out, “hayyyyyyy, huuyyyyyyy, huuyyyyyyy.”

During the ensuing break, you look down at your massive belly, marveling at the gravid shape you’ve developed during your pregnancy. Your big belly bounces on each labored breath you take. Dan reaches a big hand onto your tummy, touching you tenderly. He says, “you’re doing great, babe.”

You gaze into his eyes for a second before another compulsion to push overtakes you. You pull your chin to your chest and push. Your body shakes from exertion.

Dan says, “oh, I can see the head!” He grabs your hand again. His normal stoic attitude has become giddy as he watches you birth his child. He kisses your forehead and sooths, “good job baby, you’re doing so well.”

The doctor between your legs says, “give me your biggest push!”

You obey and bear down with ferocity. You feel the baby bulge outwards, levering your birth canal wider. The pain from the stretch makes you cry louder, “huuyyyyyyy! huuyyyyyyy!”

Dan rubs your inner thigh, encouraging you onwards. Before you know it, another contraction comes. You push again, straining with a primal urge to deliver Dan’s baby…your baby. Your pelvis screams from the pressure of your massive baby passing through and your birth canal sears from the head crowning out of your body.

You push again, forcing your body to open impossibly wide. The doctor pulls on the baby, making you scream louder as your opening stretches around the shoulders. “Yeeeeeeehhhhh! Yeeeeeeehhhhh! Yeeeeeeehhhhh!” Then, the baby slips free from your body.

Part 1

Dressed in his sharp airline pilot’s uniform, Devin groggily accepts the large cup of coffee from the barista at the coffee joint in terminal C. The dark-eyed barista says in a cheerful voice, “and which ones do you fly?” Normally Devin would reply with a flirty comment to an attractive young woman, but it’s too early. Without emotion he says, “British Airways, an A320,” to the raven-haired woman as he slides his card into the reader.

It’s been a long 6-day trip for Devin with multiple stops all over Europe each day. Thankfully, this morning is the last leg. He’s returning home to London and several days of well-earned rest. He’s a copilot for British Airways, a job he loves. He’s young, but he’s a knowledgeable and skilled pilot. Among his peers he’s well respected and on the fast track to becoming a captain.

Walking through the concourse, his eyes begin to open wider as the first hints of caffeine flow through his veins. By the time he arrives at his assigned gate, he’s fully roused for the morning’s flight home. He greets the gate crew, then heads down the stairs to the tarmac and begins preflighting the 120-person airbus.

The early morning air in Istanbul is warm and heavy with humidity. As he walks around the jet with a flashlight, he attentively checks all the aircraft’s systems, just as he was trained. Finding no abnormalities, he heads back upstairs and strolls through the jet bridge and onto the airplane.

He turns left into the cockpit and settles into the copilot seat. He gets right to work setting up the instruments and programming the aircraft’s navigation computers. Devin’s schedule shows him flying with Naomi Hess today. It’s his first time flying with her, and he wants to impress the captain by having his entire checklist completed before she arrives.

In the male dominated world of aviation, women tend to go one of two directions. Raging bitches and cool operators. Devin knows Naomi’s reputation, and she’s definitely one of the good ones. She is recognized as a first-rate pilot and as a fun and charismatic personality. Everyone loves flying with her.

Devin met her in passing over a year ago. She was tall, maybe 175 cm, rather athletic, strawberry blonde, lightly freckled, and in her mid-30s. He heard some of the older pilots talking about her sex appeal, but his eyes are drawn to women closer to his own age. He’s not interested in being cougar bait to a MILF.

As he finishes the last checks on the overhead panel, he hears footsteps behind him, then a buoyant female voice saying, “watch out, big ol’ cow coming through.” Devin doesn’t reply, remaining focused on his nearly complete checklist.

He fulfills the last step of his checks by flicking two switches into position, then he turns to acknowledge Naomi. As he rotates backwards in his seat, he’s immediately greeted with a face full of Naomi’s right ass cheek as she tries to shimmy past. Her black trousers are tight, giving him a nice feel of the older woman’s firm buttocks.

“Oh, bloody hell! I’m so sorry Devin,” she calls out in a cheery British accent as she squeezes farther forward in the cockpit. Devin’s eyes can’t help but trace the lines of her shapely legs. They’re concealed behind the black pants, but the tight fabric leaves little to imagination at close range. He examines a little higher to see the faint lines of her panties outlined against her round bottom. Devin’s masculine mind spends the next three seconds consumed in lewd thoughts about her curvy derriere before he breaks back to the real world.

He watches as his companion for today’s flight plops into the seat beside him and reaches out her hand for a handshake. “Hi, I’m Naomi.” She chuckles a bit, “I don’t normally stick my ass in a colleague’s face, but, well, it’s getting more challenging these days, sorry!”

As Devin shakes her outstretched hand, his jaw drops to the floor. Naomi is fat. Not fat, round, or maybe plump. No, the correct word is rotund. But it’s only her tummy. It’s like she’s smuggling a beachball under her white button-down pilot’s shirt. He can’t help but stare at the sphere. He notices that each button on the tight white shirt seems strained to its breaking point by the orb beneath.

He finally breaks his eyes free from her gravid mound after an awkwardly long pause, then looks up to make eye contact with her. “Don’t worry Devin, everyone has the same reaction,” she says with a little laugh. “Yes, I’m pregnant. No, it’s not twins. Yes, my doctor has cleared me to continue flying. No, I’m not planning to give birth while we’re in the air.” She nods, “there, that should cover the standard briefing.” Devin shakes his head up and down fretfully.

“Oh wait, two more: Yes, I have to pee A LOT. And no, I honestly don’t know who the dad is.” She cocks her head and a cheeky grin grows on her face as she pauses, “my wife and I picked a sperm donor at random.” She snickers, proud of her joke. Then she gets to business, “alright then, let’s get going. How’s the checklist?”

Devin takes a deep breath to steady his mind, “the checklist is complete. We’re ready to initiate boarding.”

They each put on their headsets and Devin hears Naomi make a quick call to the flight attendants to let them know to begin boarding the passengers, then she gets to work on her own checklist.

As Naomi works, Devin peers over to her. Seeing that she’s deep in concentration, he lets his eyes drop to survey the mysterious landscape of her expectant body. Of course, he’s seen pregnant women before, but this is the closest he’s been in a long time.

He perceives that everything about her is normal, except for the giant ball-shape that takes up her middle. He gapes in astonishment as a spot on the belly appears to jab out. He blinks twice, unsure if his eyes are playing tricks. Then he spies an even more vigorous flutter in her belly. It dawns on him that he’s observing the baby moving inside Naomi.

As he continues to stare, his mind is torn. He’s always thought of pregnant women as unattractive and fat. But he can’t fight off the feeling that the woman beside him, in this condition, is somehow puzzlingly sexy. His dick twitches at the concept.

Quickly, Devin pulls himself back to his job and he readies the next checklist. After a minute, Naomi says, “alright now, engine start checklist, please.”

“Ok…seatbelts,” Devin calls.

As he turns toward Naomi to latch his belt, he can’t help but behold her belly again. He watches in delight as she pulls the belt tight in her lap, tugging her shirt tighter against the lower region of her expansive belly, showing off the whole sphere. It’s a marvelous sight.

Returning to the checklist, Devin calls out, “A.P.U.,” and Naomi replies crisply, “start,” after moving the knob into position.

This call-and-response of the checklist continues until Devin says, “engine master,” and Naomi responds, “start.”

As the dials for the left engine spring to life, they call back-and-forth in rapid succession, “20%...check on, N1, N2…check, oil pressure…check.” They each watch the instruments like hawks for signs of a problem.

Devin smiles to himself. Naomi may be pregnant, but her condition hasn’t impacted her skillset in the cockpit. Her movements are fluid and purposeful. Her voice is crisp and confident. He can tell that she’s excellent at her job. He can learn a thing-or-two from her.

After both jet engines are running, there’s another minute of downtime. Devin can’t help but look over at his pregnant captain again. He’s ridiculously interested in exploring Naomi’s mystifying body further. Seeing that her attention is focused on something outside the left window, he’s free to take another peek.

His eyes begin to drop lower, but something stops them before they reach her belly. Her body’s rotation has resulted in a gaping opening between the second and third button of her strained white shirt. The gape provides an unobstructed view of her left boob. The sizable knocker is held by a lacy white brassiere and from Devin’s angle, he can clearly see the pale, soft, milky skin of her upper breast spilling out of the bra’s cup. As she inhales, he sees the soft boob swell upwards even farther.

Nervous that his gaze might be caught, he quickly averts his eyes from Naomi’s chest and stares down towards his feet. He’s now categorically concluded that pregnant women are sexy.

Devin hears Naomi’s crisp British accent over the radio, “ground, this is Speedbird six-seven-five, at gate bravo two-four, request pushback clearance.” The controller quickly approves the request.

While their airplane is being pushed by the ground crew, Devin hears an unusual sound. It’s normal to hear the faint noise of the other pilot’s breathing through the intercom, but Naomi’s noise is more perceptible, “hoooooo, whoooooo, hoooooo, whoooooo, hoooooo, whoooooo.”

Devin’s concern over the noise is lost in the action as they taxi towards the runway and ready the airliner for takeoff. The controller announces, “Speedbird six-seven-five, cleared for takeoff, runway three-five left.” Naomi repeats the radio call, then nods to Devin. Takeoff will be his responsibility today.

He moves his left hand to the throttle and places his right hand on the Airbus’ sidestick. Per company policy, Naomi places her hand on top of Devin’s on the throttles. He’s accustomed to this arrangement, but today the feeling of the pregnant woman’s soft skin touching his hand briefly distracts him.

He advances the throttles to the preset takeoff thrust and the Airbus springs to life, being shot down the runway by two powerful turbofan engines.

As they accelerate, Naomi calls out, “eighty,” and Devin replies “checked,” after verifying his airspeed indicator. A few seconds later, Naomi calls out, “V1,” signifying that they can no longer safely stop on the runway if an engine fails. A second later, Naomi calls “rotate,” and Devin begins to pull back on the sidestick, pointing the big jet into the morning sky.

The airbus leaps off the runway and Naomi says, “positive rate.” Devin requests, “gear up.” At his command, Naomi reaches out and pulls the landing gear handle to the retracted position.

As they climb through a broken layer of clouds at four thousand feet, the controller broadcasts, “Speedbird six-seven-five, contact departure at one-two-six decimal four-two-five. Have a good day.”

With the airplane stabilized and climbing, Devin looks again at Naomi. The bright morning sunlight is streaming through the cockpit windows, bathing her face in golden rays. The sunlight makes it look like she’s glowing. Devin does a double take, recognizing Naomi’s true radiance for the first time.

Then he sneaks one more look at her belly. He wonders what the round tummy feels like. Is it soft, hard, smooth, or lumpy? Maybe all of these at the same time? As he ponders, he watches the belly rise and fall with each breath she takes.

After another minute, Devin switches on the autopilot and both pilots relax. Above ten thousand feet they’re allowed to have normal conversations.

Naomi starts, “boy, I’m knackered. These early mornings are rough.”

Devin replies, “no kidding. This is the last leg of my trip. I’m really looking forward to some rest at home.”

“Are you from London?” Naomi queries.

“Yep, I have a flat near Heathrow.”

“Ah, must be nice to live so close to work. I live in the Kensington neighborhood. This is my last leg as well, but not just of my trip. This is my last flight before I start medical leave to download this fella.” She gestures to her belly.

“Hey, uh, congratulations, by the way, I don’t think I mentioned anything before. I was just, well, a little startled.”

“Oh, don’t worry, it doesn’t bother me. I’d probably have the same reaction. There aren’t many pregnant airline pilots!”

Devin hears the faint noises again over the intercom, “uhhh…..whewww…uhhh….whewww.”

“So, is it a boy or a girl?”

“Actually, we don’t know. I wanted to find out, but my wife prefers a surprise.”

Devin continues, “cool, is it your first kid?”

She cuddles her arms around her burgeoning belly, “yep, first kid at the ripe old age of 37! My wife is only 28, but she’s, um, a sensitive type.” Naomi puts air-quotes around the word sensitive. “So, we decided that I would be the one to carry this cheeky fellow,” she says with hints of exasperation.

“Don’t get me wrong, the whole thing is exciting and wonderful, but I’m certainly not looking forward to the birth part of this. At the last appointment, the doctors told me the head is in the 99th percentile.”

“Oh wow,” Devin chimes in, unsure of the appropriate reply.

“Ya, so congratulations to me, I guess. Wish me luck pushing a giant out. My wife thinks I should have a natural birth, but no way. I’ll be demanding an epidural as soon as I set foot in the hospital door!”

Devin is embarrassed at the topic. Of course, he knows how babies are born, but it’s not every day that a pregnant woman talks to him about pushing a baby from her hoo-ha. In fact, he hasn’t thought much about childbirth since sex-ed class back in school. He considers the trial that Naomi is soon to endure, squeezing a giant baby out of a normally dainty opening. He cringes at the concept.

“OH!” she exclaims sharply.

Devin looks over with alarm.

“Eh, just some kicks, I didn’t mean to startle you. The kid has been trying to beat me up ever since we took off! I think he’s just excited to be flying.”

The conversation goes quiet, and Devin can hear the peculiar breathing again, “mmm…ohhhwwww, mmm, ohhhwwww, mmm…ohhhwwww.”

Part 2

Devin closely observes the aircraft’s instruments as they approach their assigned cruising altitude of thirty-seven thousand feet. The autopilot is flying the airplane, but the pilots still have an active role in monitoring the aircraft’s performance. As expected, the Airbus slowly levels off at the assigned altitude and the auto-throttle reduces the engine’s power as the big airliner settles into cruise flight.

Naomi is just as focused as Devin. Once she’s happy that the aircraft is stable, she says, “ok, cruise checklist, Devin.”

Devin starts reading the checklist and Naomi replies as she accomplishes each task. The commotion of their work masks some of Naomi’s sounds. When it’s quiet, though, Devin can still identify the distinct labored breaths from Naomi.

Out of the corner of his eye, Devin sees Naomi grab each armrest with her hands and push her torso more upright. It’s obvious that she’s uncomfortable and trying to find relief. She’s motionless for a second, then he sees the globe of her big belly constrict into a smaller and tighter ball. As this happens, she rubs her gravid tummy.

Devin can’t decide whether he should say something about the situation. As he ponders this question, the radio crackles to life, “Speedbird six-seventy-five, turn left to two-seven-five degrees.” Devin reaches to the panel to input the minor heading adjustment into the autopilot.

Naomi replies to the controller, “Speedbird six-seventy-five, l-left to…mmmMMMM…t-two seven-five, huuuu.” At this point, there’s no denying it, she’s clearly in distress.

Devin turns to face Naomi. She stares back at him. Her eyes are wide with alarm. She finally says, “Devin, I think I may have lied to you earlier. I-I-I think I’m in labor.”

Devin is visibly stunned at Naomi’s confession.

Naomi takes two deep breaths to calm herself. Then she says to Devin in a composed voice, “its ok, first-time moms are usually in labor for at least twelve hours, sometimes even days. We should just carry-on as normal; we have less than 2 hours to London.” She waves her hands and smiles, “I’m fine!”

Devin is still too stunned to speak and continues watching his pregnant companion closely. Her belly surges and her face contorts. Devin hears the gasps over the intercom, “ahh-hh, haaa-aaa, hoooo.”

Naomi gathers herself, “it’s fine, Devin.” Devin’s reply is professional. “I’m going to check on some diversion options, just in case we need them.” Naomi can’t say no to his reasonable plan.

Devin uses the airplane’s onboard flight computer to add their preplanned diversion airports onto the moving map display. As he brings up the distance and flight time for each airport, a loud cry from Naomi startles him. “Heeeee! Hiii!”

He turns to her, more alarmed than ever. As his eyes pan over her expectant body, he sees that she’s repositioned herself. She’s slumped back in the seat and her legs are slightly spread. Her right hand is between her crotch and a strange, slightly sweet smell has entered the cockpit.

She turns to him with an ashen face. Her previous cavalier attitude has given way to shock. Deadpan, she says, “Devin…my water…it just broke.” Devin peers lower and notices the wet spot spreading through the dark fabric of her pants.

Before Devin can process this new information, Naomi arches her back and widens her legs. She grunts softly, then an urgent, “Hiiiiiiyyyyya, Uhhhhhh!” comes from her.

She looks back to Devin and exclaims, “oh, gawd that bloody hurt. Shit, I can feel the head pushing inside me-eee.”

Suddenly, she starts frantically fiddling with her belt buckle and pant buttons. Devin finally finds his voice, “Naomi, Naomi…what are you doing?”

She replies quickly, “I have to check myself.” Devin’s face betrays confusion, so she continues, “I have to see how much my cervix has dilated. I think it’s a lot, I think I feel the head in my coochie.” Devin’s eyes grow wider than silver dollars and his face turns crimson with blush. Naomi sees his reaction, “I’m bloody sorry Devin. Things are about to get really personal in this cockpit.”

Remembering that he’s the primary pilot at this point, Devin turns his attention back to the airplane’s instruments. He scans the critical information exactly as he’s been trained. He finds they’re still precisely on course and all of the aircraft’s systems are operating normally.

He turns back to check on Naomi. He’s startled to see that she’s unbuttoned her shirt from her abdomen. The round, pale belly pulsates as a contraction flows through her body. She grunts as this happens, “uhhhhh, hu, hu, hoooooo.” Then Devin looks lower and realizes that she’s completely removed her pants and panties. Her long, pale, athletic legs are striking. Then he sees the puffy pinkness of her meaty preggo vagina. His dick uncontrollably springs to life at the lovely view.

“DEVIN!” She calls out, breaking his daze. “This baby’s coming fast. I’m definitely not going to make it to London. We should divert. You’ll have to be a single pilot. I don’t, hmmm-mmm-MMM, think, ohhhhh, I’ll be any help.”

Devin’s training quickly kicks in. He pushes the transmit button and speaks clearly, “Center, this is Speedbird six-seventy-five, Pan…Pan…Pan.” He uses the internationally recognized term for an urgent situation. The air traffic controller quickly replies. “Speedbird six-seventy-five, what’s the nature of your problem?”

Devin is concise. “My captain is incapacitated. Request immediate diversion to the nearest airport.”

The other aircraft on the frequency go quiet, understanding the priority. Then the controller replies, “Speedbird six-seventy-five, turn left to two-one-five degrees, vectors to Charles de Gaulle airport. When able, please say how many souls on-board, fuel on-board, and details on the condition of the captain.”

Devin already has the answers, “Speedbird six-seventy-five has 127 souls on board, 4 hours of fuel remaining, and my captain is in labor.”

The reply is quick with a strong French accent, “this must be a prank! Stop joking around. Captains don’t have babies.”

Devin keys the mic, but before he can speak, Naomi cries out again, “HAAAA, OOOOH, AHHHH!” her cries being transmitted over the frequency. Devin speaks, “did you hear that? My captain is having a baby right now. We must land immediately.”

The French controller’s voice becomes sober, “Speedbird six-seventy-five, I understand, I’m sorry. You’re cleared to descend to flight level two zero zero, heading two-one-five.”

Devin looks over at his laboring Captain to verify that she understands that they’re heading to Paris. He watches her grab her belly with both hands and let a mighty wail, “Mmmmmmaaaaa.” Then she pants, catching her breath before another wail, “Mmm, Mmmmmmmayyy!”

Devin realizes that she’s pushing. She’s actively giving birth right beside him in the cockpit. He knows the best way to help her at this point is to get on the ground, so he returns to his task of flying the airliner. But first, he takes a quick glance between her legs and gawks at her very exposed pregnant pussy. He feels a drop of pre-cum leak from his stiff shaft.

As they descend through twenty-two thousand feet, Devin suddenly hears a loud chime alerting him that the autopilot has disconnected. It would only have disconnected if there was a problem with the system or if one of the pilots manipulated the controls. His highly trained senses suddenly spring into action to diagnose the problem.

He feels the aircraft begin to accelerate. They’re already descending and are close to the maximum safe speed for the thicker air at the lower altitude, so he needs to act fast. He grabs the sidestick to take manual control of the aircraft and scans the instruments. He quickly notices that the engine instruments show increasing power, but the engines should be at a low power setting for their decent. The higher power setting is a major red flag.

He turns to the throttles and reaches out to pull back the levers. Then he finally sees the problem. The cockpit wasn’t designed with enough room for a woman to spread her legs during labor. Naomi has unintentionally pushed the throttles forward with her right thigh while she was pushing.

The smooth, soft, fair skin of her thigh squeezed against the throttle levers beckons to him, enticing him to reach out and stroke her sexy leg. He pushes the lustful thought from his mind and speaks, “hey Naomi,” he says calmly, “you’re pressing on the throttles with your leg.”

She quickly understands and moves her leg to a new position that doesn’t interfere with any aircraft controls. She utters, “oh Devin, damnit I’m so sorry!” Then she cries louder, “this is terrible! I can feel EVERYTHING. Uh, mmmm, SHIT!”

Devin watches Naomi as she contracts again. Her belly pulses and she bears down with a scowl on her face. He sees that she’s sweating. Clearly, she’s going through a massive challenge. Her eyes fixate, staring into nothingness, and she exerts a massive push with a cry, “HEEEEEEE-EEEEEEE.”

As he watches his pregnant companion, a voice enters his headset, “Speedbird six-seventy-five, you’re cleared to decent to five thousand feet, contact tower at one-one-nine decimal two-five. They know your situation and will have medical personnel standing by when you land.”

Devin replies, “Speedbird six-seventy-five, cleared down to five thousand. Thank you.” He quickly adjusts the autopilot and inputs the new frequency into the radio panel.

He looks back to Naomi and sees her push again. She’s shaking as she strains her body. Devin is shocked as he glances between her creamy-colored thighs. He sees that her once elegant vagina has been stretched open by a baby’s large head with dark hair. It’s startling and also kinda sexy to see her body gaping open like this.

Naomi calls out frantically, “Devin, Devin, what does it look like?” For a second, Devin thinks that he’s been caught staring, but then he realizes that she simply wants to know how her body is responding to labor.

He’s nearly speechless and simply says, “I see the head.”

Before she can respond, she shrieks again, “Ayyyyyy, He, He, Ayyyyyy.” As she pushes Devin sees the baby’s head bulge outwards and expand her pussy into a wide teardrop.

Devin watches her laboring, strained vagina with awe, then pulls his mind back to the task of flying the airplane. Because they’re getting close to the runway, he takes manual control of the aircraft and starts making small control inputs. He starts lowering the flaps and eventually extends the landing gear.

As he flies, he hears Naomi scream wildly, “HIIIYA, HIIIYYYYYAAAA, AHHHHHHHH.” He wants to look over, but he must concentrate on flying. She screams again, completely unhinged , “HIIIYYYYYAAAA, HIIIYYYYYAAAA, HIIIYY--.” Then a second of silence fills the cockpit. A baby’s shrill wail erupts, breaking the calm.

“A BOY!” Naomi shouts cheerfully.

The baby boy’s cries intensify as Naomi holds him on her chest. Between happy tears, she blabbers to the baby, “you’re born to be a pilot, aren’t you! Just like mommy!”

Devin looks ahead at the approaching runway; he’s perfectly aligned to land. He keys the mic one more time. “Tower, Speedbird six-seventy-five, update to our souls on board. We now have 128.”

The controller responds, “Speedbird six-seventy-five, please congratulate the new mom! You’re cleared to land, runway two-six-right.” Other aircraft excitedly chime-in on the frequency, “CONGRATS!” “HURRAY!” “YAY!” “GOOD JOB CAPTAIN HESS!” “WAY TO GO, MOMMA!”

Hey baby, let's take a walk, ok? The doctor said getting some steps in might help kickstart labor. Of course I'll hold your hand and we can go slow, no worries mama. I know it's hard at 41 weeks.

I know, I know, the walk didn't do it. Here's a glass of water. So, maybe we should...you know...do the other thing the doctor mentioned? Yes, I know you don't feel sexy right now, but gosh I find you irresistible baby.

Here, lemme help with your shirt. Lift your arms, hun. Oh baby, those boobs. Shit, can I just look at them for a bit? Ok, ok...I have to touch them. Oh, they got so much bigger. They're so soft, so full. Can I pinch your nipple?

Haha, you scared me when you squealed. You obviously liked that, didn't you, babe?

No, no you're not fat. I love this belly, let me rub it, let me lick every inch to show you just how much I love it. Ya, that's it, lay back just like that.

Oh you are so sexy, I love running my tongue up and down your linea nigra. You're so perfectly curvy, baby. Oh, what's happening down here? Hehe, are you wet baby? Ha, I better check.

Let me just reach under here and see what happening under these pretty pink panties. Oh, let me get a little taste of that. Haha, yep. I knew it, you're super wet, baby. You're ready for my dick, huh?

I'll help you pull off these panties. Oh that pussy! I need to be inside that pussy, NOW!

Ya, I'll be gentle, just let me slide in slowly. OH, FUCK! Baby you're so warm. You're so tight around me.

I know it's big, but I'm going slowly. I'm just going to gently explore your whole vagina. Deeper? Ok, let me go deeper until I find your cervix. Oh baby, I love feeling your cervix tickle my tip. Am I too deep?

No, but harder? You want it harder? Alright.

You ok mama? You're moaning a lot.

Good! Yes, keep moaning like that you sexy preggo, I love your noises!

Oh, your milky boobs babe, they're bouncing. I love watching them jiggle every time I pound into your pussy.

Yes, yes, wrap those juicy thighs around me babe. Hold me tight and clench your pussy on me. Yes! Oh FUCK!

Arch your back, lemme really see that belly. Lemme touch every inch of your gravid tummy while I pummel your little vagina with my big cock.

I'm going to twist on your left nipple, just how you like it, ok?

Oh, I'm so deep inside you. Keep going, keep going, don't stop baby!

OH! Are you cumming? Ya baby, cum on my dick, go ahead and cum! Scream baby, scream for me baby!!

OH! UHHH! UHHHH! I'M CUMMING INSIDE YOU, BABY!!! AGGGGGGGG!!! AGGGGGGGGG!!!!

Oh, that was amazing. You're so sexy baby!

I just want to hold you for a while. One hand on your right boob and one around your womb.

Alison and Lena had a quaint life on the eastern shores of Lake Ontario. After a few years of apartment living, they had finally saved enough money over the summer for the down payment on a small, but sturdy cabin. The two-story cabin was on a modest plot of wooded land just north of the town of Oswego. The ladies quickly grew to love their rustic life in the cabin. Alison, a lifelong lover of the outdoors, threw herself into projects around their property while Lena found joy in making their cabin a warm, cozy home, transforming it with thoughtful touches and a nurturing spirit.

On a crisp Saturday morning in late December, Lena woke to soft mid-morning light streaming through their bedroom window. The warm comforter and cozy pillows beckoned her to fall back asleep, but the light streaming into the window forced her awake. She reached her arm out, feeling for Alison’s body, but she only found an empty spot. She heard a sound outside the window, thwack…clunk, then 15 seconds later another, thwack…clunk. She slowly rose from the bed, her white cotton nightgown flowing down to her bare feet. She sluggishly moved to the window and peered down from the second story to find Alison, dressed in faded jeans and a red flannel shirt swinging an axe

Lena watched her wife place a new log upright, then swing her axe swiftly, perfectly striking the wood, thwack. The split pieces flew aside and crashed into other pieces of walnut, maple, and oak with a clunk.

Lena’s face beamed as she gazed at her lover. Alison was her perfect complement, and she fell more in love with her robust and athletic wife each day. With her eyes still fixed on her wife, Lena’s left hand gingerly slid under her belly and her right hand skimmed around the front of her tummy. She tenderly held herself, feeling the life that was growing inside her womb.

Lena slipped on soft slippers and made her way down the stairs. As she passed through the living room, she turned on the lights that covered their Christmas tree, making the evergreen Alison had cut from their property sparkle. In the kitchen, she quickly got to work, frying bacon and eggs and brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

She slowly waddled outside with a steaming mug in each hand. Alison immediately stopped her work at the sight of her lovely wife walking towards her. “Oh, thank you babe,” Alison said as she accepted the mug of coffee from her expectant wife.

Lena grinned and said, “when I married you, I really didn’t know how sexy you’d be in flannel.” Alison glowed at the compliment. She set down her axe and took a sip of coffee. “And I didn’t know how sexy you’d be carrying our child, babe. How are you feeling this morning?”

Lena shrugged, “eh, I’m still tired even though I just slept 10 hours, hahaha. And fat. Look at me! I think I grew another size overnight.” Lena turned to the side and pulled her nightgown tight against her gravid frontside, showing off the full extent of her 38.5-week pregnancy.

Alison’s mouth dropped a bit. “Damn, you’re so beautiful, babe!” Lena turned back to face Alison and put her hands on her hips. “Oh, come on, I’m not. I’m a whale!”

Alison went on, “oh I’ve never been more attracted to you, hun. You’re so sexy when you’re pregnant.” Lena smiled sweetly and Alison continued, “maybe we can, you know, get back in bed for a while.” Lena started to protest, “but I just got…” before understanding Alison’s intent.

She replied with a wink, “oh, well, I’ve never been fucked by a lumberjack before.” She giggled, “will you be gentle with me, big strong lumberjack?” Alison replied, “of course I will pretty lady. This lumberjack definitely knows how to please a woman.” Alison stepped closer and gently stroked the sides of Lena’s belly with both hands before leaning in to kiss her tenderly.

After accepting the kiss, Lena turned and headed inside. In the kitchen, she stopped and said, “um, maybe you should eat first. I want you at full strength, ya know.”

“Ok,” Alison said, “but you know how I like my wife, right?” Lena didn’t know how to reply.

“Barefoot,” Alison said. Lena snickered, understanding the trope.  She kicked off her slippers and shrugged back at Alison.

Alison continued, “pregnant.” Lena pulled her nightgown tight against her body again, pointed at her round orb with a finger, bit her lip, and nodded vigorously.

Alison took a bite of egg and then said, “in the kitchen.” Lena gestured around the room and nodded in agreement.

Alison took another sip of coffee and added, “and…naked.” Lena raised her eyebrows and waited for more, but Alison just gazed at her eagerly.

Lena took a step backwards, then she gingerly began to lift her white nightgown higher. First, her tan calves were bared, then her thighs, juicy from the extra pregnancy weight, were revealed. She took a deep breath and started inching the gown higher as Alison chewed a slice of bacon. Lena’s neat, pregnant vulva was exposed, then the lower part of her pregnant belly became clear, including her very cute belly button.

As the garment rose higher, Alison fixated on the round orb of her wife’s middle as if she was in a trance. Then Lena lifted even higher, and her two engorged torpedo-shaped milkers were freed. Alison remained entranced by the beauty in front of her as Lena lifted the nightgown completely from her body and tossed it aside. Alison uttered, “you’re gorgeous, babe.”

Lena’s bare arms shook a little, maybe from the cold, and maybe from the vulnerability of standing nude in front of her lover while heavily pregnant.

After a few seconds, Lena finally said, “this-this isn’t fair. My wife’s in the kitchen, but isn’t barefoot, pregnant, or naked. She should at least be naked, don’t you think?”

Alison stood and swiftly unbuttoned her flannel top, revealing her toned abs. She ripped her sports bra up and off her body, letting her b-cub, retrousse tits with small nipples bounce free.

She unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them off her legs, showing off her lean, but highly sculpted lower body. Then she pulled her panties from her hips, letting Lena study her womanhood with dark, neatly trimmed pubes.

For the next hour a cacophony of moans, squeals, whimpers, and shrieks of ecstasy flowed from the cabin’s bedroom as the lumberjack fucked her pregnant wife.

After countless orgasms, the women’s lovemaking finally came to an end. Alison held Lena under the covers, her right hand pressed gently onto the crest of her baby mama’s tummy.

Lena sighed and said, “I could stay here forever like this, but I should really grade some papers.” Lena was a creative writing professor at nearby SUNY Oswego. She continued, “I still have a few more final papers to finish, then I’m done until the fall!” She was taking the spring semester off as maternity leave. She was very excited to have the time to spend around the cabin with the new baby. Alison was planning a short leave before going back to her work as the head coach for the woman’s field hockey team. 

Alison pulled Lena a little tighter and muttered, “mm, just five more minutes, hun?” Lena snuggled in a little closer and said, “sure, five minutes sounds good to me.” Alison continued, “hey Lena, just…um, thanks again for doing this, for carrying my child. I love you so much, babe.”

Alison and Lena had conceived through reciprocal IVF. It was Alison’s egg, fertilized by a donor that was implanted inside Lena’s womb. This way, both women shared an element of the childrearing process.  

Lena grunted slightly as she rolled over and faced Alison. She replied, very seriously, “of course, Alison. I love doing this for you…for us. We’re going to have a real family soon.” She pressed her lips to Alison’s and smooched her wife, then she stood.

Alison looked at Lena, still nude and said, “gosh girl, you really are a pregnant goddess.” Lena just looked back shyly and said, “it’s just because my tits got bigger. You’ve always been a boob girl. Alison smiled and said, “oh I can’t lie, I do love boobs, but it’s not just that, it’s everything about you hun. You’re such a MILF!” Lena smirked and said, “stop it!” as she covered herself with maternity tights and an oversized SUNY sweatshirt.

Hours later, Lena was curled up on the couch, still grading papers, while Alison made dinner in the kitchen. She was rubbing herbs onto a salmon filet while ears of corn boiled on the stove and a local radio station played in the background.

The radio voice said, “…and it looks like the first really big snow of the year is headed our way on Tuesday. Projections range from 10 inches to a whopping 40 inches.”

Alison turned and hollered, “hey, did you hear there’s a big storm coming?” The ladies were no strangers to lake effect snow, but this would be their first big snow since moving into the cabin. And 40 inches would be very significant.

Lena shouted back, “ya, heard it could be a big one. Good thing my lumberjack wife has plenty of wood ready for us!” Alison slid the dish with salmon into the oven and then strode into the living room. “Should we make, you know, any backup plans? We’re getting pretty close to your due date, honey.”

Lena waved at Alison nonchalantly, “eh, we have my 39-week OB appointment on Monday. Let’s see what Dr Robinson thinks.” Lena looked concerned, but replied simply, “ok”

On Monday, Alison drove Lena to the doctor’s office in town. She watched intently as Lena lowered the elastic top of her maternity pants from her big belly, revealing the flesh of her sexy bump. Dr Robinson thoroughly examined Lena and the baby, finally concluding, “everything is looking good here, mama.  But since we’re getting close to your due date, we should check your cervix.”

Alison couldn’t help but feel jealous as Lena removed her pants and panties and laid back onto the exam table with her legs spread for Dr Robinson. The doctor pushed into the pink, slightly swollen, pregnant pussy with a gloved hand. He replied after palpating Lena’s birth canal, “nothing exciting to report. No signs of labor yet.”

Alison spoke up with a furrowed brow. “Should we take any special precautions with the storm coming tomorrow? If we get as much snow as they’re expecting, we could end up stuck in our cabin.” The doctor shrugged and said, “that might be a good idea, but with no obvious signs of labor today I wouldn’t jump to any conclusions.”

As the doctor left, Alison said nervously, “maybe we should get a hotel room here in town tonight? What do you think?” Lena smiled as she clumsily sat up and began putting her panties back on. She said, “aw, I love that you’re worried about us, but you heard Dr Robinson. This baby is living his…or her…best life in here right now.” She poked her big squishy belly. “And I’ve lived here my whole life, I’m not afraid of a little snow.”

Alison looked even more worried. She pleaded, “I really think we should stay in town tonight.” Lena replied more forcefully, “no. I want to be back in our cozy cabin curled up with you, not some stupid hotel.” Alison frowned harder and Lena went on, “look, if you come home with me tonight, I’ll let you experience sex with an officially full-term preggo.” She gyrated her hips and winked. “How’s that for motivation?”

Alison replied sheepishly, “would I get to play with your boobs?” Lena made googly eyes at her lover. “Of course, and I think your perky titties should come out an play also.” Alison sighed with resignation. She muttered, “alright, you drive a hard bargain, Miss MILFy. I’ll take you home and have sex with you, if that’s what you want.”

When the ladies returned home, Alison chased Lena into the bedroom. They made love until the sun went down. As they lay coiled together under the covers, they could see the first light flurries of snow falling from the grey sky outside their window.

Alison stroked Lena’s smooth leg and said, “I better go get the fire going, it’s going to get cold tonight.” Lena cooed softly, “mmmm, thanks baby.” With the fire roaring in the background, the ladies ate a light dinner, then the duo watched a movie and finally went to sleep for the night.

Alison woke suddenly and glanced around the dark bedroom. She pulled her phone from her nightstand and studied the device as she groaned softly. It read 1:47AM. She turned to check on her pregnant companion but found an empty spot in Lena’s place.

Alison quickly spun out of bed and left the room in search of her wife. She found Lena downstairs sitting on an ottoman in the living room. Lena’s eyes were closed, and she had both hands on the apex of her protruding belly. She exhaled slowly, then opened her eyes and smiled at Alison.

Alison asked with alarm, “are…ARE YOU OK?”

Lena smiled sweetly, looking like the picture of maternity with her cotton nightgown flowing over her ripe breasts and big, round belly. She said quietly, “it’s just some little contractions. They’ve been happening a lot of nights recently. Nothing to worry about, you worrywart.”

Alison took a deep breath and seemed to relax. She walked closer and sat on the couch behind Lena and massaged the pregnant woman’s shoulders. Lena sighed with pleasure.

Eventually, Alison curled up and fell asleep on the couch while the snowflakes fell faster outside the cabin. An hour later, a sound woke Alison. She looked up to see Lena pacing in the kitchen. One hand was under her belly and a grimace was on her face.

Alison jumped up and walked towards the kitchen. She didn’t have to speak, her face silently interrogated Lena. Lena replied matter-of-factly, “they’re definitely getting stronger. But it’s ok, don’t worry. First time moms are usually in labor for like 24 hours, sometimes way more. And I’m not even sure that I’m actually in labor.” Alison’s eyes widened. Lena went on, “and look, they’re only projecting 8 inches now. That’s nothing.” She showed Alison her phone with the weather app displayed.

Lena took Alison gently by the hands and said, “look, I’m getting tired, so let’s try to get some sleep.” Alison nodded and pulled her pregnant wife towards the stairs.

In the bed, Alison wrapped her arms around Lena and listened intently for nearly 45 minutes until Lena’s breathing finally became regular. Then she allowed herself to fall asleep also.

A new sound drove her wide-awake. It was a strong and focused groan, “MMMMMM,” then pants, “hooo, hoo-ooo.” She jumped up, adrenaline spiking in her veins. Lena was sitting on the edge of the bed with her phone in her hand. She had a contraction timer app running.

Lena looked up into Alison’s eyes. She said, “baby, I-I think it’s time to go to the hospital.” Alison’s eyes got big again, then she dropped to her knees and kissed Lena’s belly saying, “oh I can’t wait to meet this kid!” Lena tapped her phone and showed it to Alison. She said solemnly, “they’ve changed their projections again. They’re saying the storm is going to stall at the coast. They’re calling for A LOT more snow.” The phone said it was 6:17AM.

Alison jumped up and nodded. She started pulling on her snowpants and boots. She rushed out of the room, yelling over her shoulder, “I’m going to shovel the driveway and start the Jeep, be right back!”

Alison shoveled in the dark for about 5 minutes, then she noticed movement by the garage. It was hard to see through the thick snow, so she walked closer. She found Lena, standing in the garage still in her nightgown. The pregnant beauty was shivering from the cold and a frightened expression was on her face. She pointed between her legs and said, “my-my water broke.” Then she doubled over and grunted, “uuuhhhhh, UUUHHHHH.” Still recovering she said, “and they, uuuhhhh, just closed the highway. I think we might be stuck here.”

PART 1

As you sit eating your big breakfast, you focus your attention on the television in the kitchen. An annoying car commercial ends and the familiar Sports Center jingle plays. “Do-do-doot, do-do-doot.”

An overcaffeinated big man in a plaid sportscoat appears on the screen, “Chris Berman here to run down the NFL power rankings for this upcoming season...”

After waiting tensely for 20 minutes, you finally hear what you’ve been waiting for. “And at number five, we have the Carolina Panthers. Second-year quarterback Sam Jackson…”

The sound of your name brings a smile to your face. It’s been your dream to play professional football since you were 4 years old, and your childhood dream has become a reality. You still can’t believe they’re paying you to do this job, starting quarterback for an NFL team, the Carolina Panthers.

“…brought this team to unexpected heights as a rookie after taking over for injured veteran Q.B. Andy Dahlberg during week six last season. And in case you didn’t hear the breaking news this morning, he has a big new target this year in Tight End Mac Davison. Mac was acquired by the Panthers in a blockbuster free agent signing this morning.  We’ll be expecting great things from this dynamic duo this year …”

Your eyes pop. You hadn’t heard the news yet. You literally jump and pump your fists with excitement. Mac is the best tight end in the league. Throwing to him will be legendary.

The sound of your phone’s ringer interrupts your celebration. It’s an unknown number, but you take a chance and answer. The voice on the other end is unfamiliar, “Hey QB1. My brotha, I guess you know by now, huh?”

“Mac?” you query.

His words are quick, “of course! We gonna have a great year, but it starts now. I hear you’re in the mountains relaxing?”

“Um, ya. I’m near Park City staying at a friend’s unused vacation house for the offseason. Beautiful out here. It’s a great spot to work out.”

“Ya, ok. I’ll be there in a few hours. We gotta get acquainted, no time to waste QB1.”

The call suddenly ends.

You’re used to dealing with professional athletes and the extreme eccentricity they bring to life, but Mac’s call was enigmatic, even for a professional athlete.

Three hours later the doorbell chimes loudly. You stride to the door and open it wide for the big man on the other side. You checked out Mac’s stats earlier. The sheet said he’s 6 feet 6 inches and 265 pounds, but he looks even bigger in person. The sheet also said he runs a blisteringly fast 4.52 second forty-yard dash and has a 42.5 inch vertical leap.

He gives a big grin and pulls you into a big hug. At 6 feet 2 inches and 205 pounds, you’re certainly not a shrimp, but Mac’s massiveness makes you feel small. 

“I’m excited man! Excited to team up with you!” he announces loudly while stepping back and tossing a football into your hands.

“It’s going to be great, Mac! I’ve been looking up to you for a long time!” you say.

“Ya boy, it all starts today. I just need to know…are you ready to give it your all? To sacrifice? To do ANYTHING necessary for a ring?” his face is very serious as he asks this.

“Of course!” you holler. You mean it. You’ll do anything to win. You already workout and study nonstop, but you’ll double down and work harder.

Mac throws a duffle bag onto the ground in the entryway. “Alright let’s get to it then. How about some drills?”

You shrug, “sure, let’s get to work,” and lead him out to the astroturf field in the backyard.

After some warmup calisthenics and sprints, you pull a bag of footballs over and say, “ready to run some routes?”

He’s quick to answer, “born ready, QB1!”

Suddenly you have a pang of butterflies in your stomach. You’ve had this feeling previously during big games. You’re about to throw to one of the greatest players in the NFL. The feeling of imposter syndrome overcomes you.

“Post route,” Mac calls out.

Your heart beats quickly as you grasp the pigskin in both hands and yell, “go!”

Mac sprints away as you preform your 5-step drop, then you launch the ball downfield with a swift motion. As the ball leaves your fingertips you realize that it’s a bad throw. You’re forced to watch in horror as the ball sails wide right.

As Mac jogs back you say, “hey, sorry, just some rust.”

He’s quick and upbeat, “no prob, let’s try that one again.”

You yell, “go!” and Mac sprints away again. You throw once more.

It’s a better throw, but still not good. What happens next is horrific to watch. Your pass comes down just out of Mac’s reach, but he lunges and dives for your errant pass. As he lands, you see his ankle flex awkwardly and he cries out in pain.

Your mind fixates on one thought: fuck, I just injured Mac Davison. My life, my career, is over.

You run down to Mac as he lays on the astroturf grabbing his lower leg.

The next minutes are a haze. Somehow you get him upright and assist him into the house and help him sit in a stuffed chair.

“Can you try massaging it?” he requests.

You kneel and gently pull his shoe off and do your best to mimic the movement that trainers have used on your sore body parts when you’ve been injured.

As you massage the ankle, you can’t help but notice a big bulge in his loose blue athletic shorts. You stare closer and realize that the dude has a massive, erect dong under his shorts.

“Do you like what you see QB1?” he says nonchalantly.

His question catches you off guard. You just chuckle, unsure how to reply.

“So, Sam, you wanta suck it or get fucked by it? Either way works for me,” he says.

You’re used to inappropriate bander in locker rooms, but the brazenness of Mac’s question pushes you farther off guard.

“Dude, uh…that’s funny,” is all you can say.

Mac continues, “man, if we’re going to develop chemistry, we have to.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you practically scream.

He shrugs, “all the great quarterbacks took dick from their primary targets, it’s common knowledge, man.”

You stutter, realizing that he’s serious, or maybe crazy. “Y-y-ya ,r-r-rright. N-next thing you’ll be telling me that Tom Burgandy was letting his receivers have his ass.”

Mac stares at you like you have two heads.

“Huh? You really don’t know? Of course, Tommy B. let his receivers rail him. I heard he was an amazing lay. He let Cronk cum inside him before every game and again at halftime. How else do you think they developed that legendary charisma together?”

You stare back at the huge man, like a deer in the headlights, realizing that his request is serious.

“You said you would do anything to win, right?” he asks.

You reply with hesitation, “I-I did say that didn’t I?”

Mac continues, “Alright bro, I guess we ain’t got a choice here. Pull down your pants, QB1.” 

“Whoa, wait, what about your ankle?” you ask.

He chuckles, “oh ya, I’m fine. I flopped out there because I could tell we needed to get our chemistry fixed first.”

You feel like you’re about to have a panic attack as you choke out, “a-a-nd you think having sex with me is the answer?”

“Don’t worry, I think you’ll enjoy it.”

You just stare back at him.

“One time. Just try it Sam.”

What the fuck? Are you really about to let Mac put his dick inside you? If this is the price to win, though, it might be worth it.

You enter another haze, removing your clothes, walking into the bedroom, and bending over the bed.

“L-like this?” you ask, unsure exactly what to do.

He towers over you as he replies, “yep, just like that QB1. Don’t worry, I’m going to use lots of lube. I’ll treat you right.”

You peer backwards and see the massive, terrifying, erect cock inches from your bare ass as he wipes lube over himself. You close your eyes and attempt to visualize a Superbowl ring, trying to keep your ultimate goal in mind.

You feel a moment of warmth as his tip touches your butt. He grasps your hips with his hands, then it happens.

You’re overtaken by his raw power as he plunges into you. Your vision reduces to bright stars and you cry, “haaaaaaa!”

He powerfully pulls out and pumps again, making you cry aa second time, “haaaaaa!”

It happens again, but he goes even deeper. He’s so far inside you and it feels strange to be stuffed like this.

Just when you think he can’t go more, he hammers again, probing impossibly deep into you. “heeeeeeee!”

“Oh, QB1, you got a nice ass!” he soothes, “I feel so connected with you, man.”

He starts humping gently, sliding himself in and out. You can feel his full girth, grinding in-and-out of your body, exploring the depths of your insides. You can sense exactly where his tip is as he prods in-and-out of you, over and over.

You realize that women must feel the same sensations when they have sex. Then you realize that you’re moaning like a woman getting railed, “he, he hiiii, he, he hiii, he, he hii!” You try to stop, but you can’t help it.

Mac grunts and then asks, “doing ok QB1?”

Between moans you manage to say, “Huu, fuck your dick is huge. He, he, hiiii. Ya, I guess I’m ok, man. Hooo-oooo, Ohhhhh, Ohhhhh, Ohhhhh, Ohhhhh!”

He starts to accelerate his motions, making a slapping sound each time he humps into you.

You start to experiment, slightly rocking back into him each time he pushes. The motion is somehow natural, and you quickly find a tempo with him. You’re literally humping with him, taking an active role in the sex.

You inquire, “mmmm, are you going to cum soon, Mac?”

He responds, “I’m close. You ready for my load QB1?”

You realize that Mac, a man, is about to cum in your ass and you question how you ended up in this situation.

He humps faster and harder, filling you in a way that’s both very painful and bizarrely fulfilling. Your moans turn into deeper grunts as you work to accommodate the massive cock. “Uuuhhhhh! Uuuhhhhh! Uuuhhhhh!”

Then you hear Mac growl, “GRAAAAAA, HAAAAAAA, MAAAAAA!!!!” and you feel pulses of cum being deposited deep inside you.

You’re not sure if it’s disgusting or somehow weirdly pleasing, knowing that he literally just came inside you. Then, suddenly it’s over and he’s pulled out, leaving you feeling weirdly empty.

After pulling on your clothes, Mac says, “ready to try some more routes?”

You nod shyly and start to saunter outside. You can’t help but walk like a cowboy who just got off his horse. Mac really did a number on your ass. Sore is an understatement.

“Alright QB1, post route,” he requests once you’re outside.

You try to focus, but you keep having flashbacks to Mac jackhammering you.

“Ok, go!’ you finally muster.

He flies down the field and you launch the ball. Your heart leaps as you watch the perfect pass arc into his arms, hitting him perfectly in stride.

As he jogs back, he winks at you, “see? Told ya!”

You can’t believe it.

You yell, “GO!” again.

He flies down the field and you heave the ball again. This time, he suddenly breaks off his planned route and slams on the brakes.

You’re surprised that your pass hits him right in the chest. Somehow you knew he was going to change the route and you perfectly adjusted for the change.

The next hour of practice is the most fulfilling football of your life. You and Mac have a perfect connection on the field, like you’re reading each other’s minds.

You both head back to the house and spend some time in the weight room. Then you call one of the team’s assistant coaches on Zoom to work on some new plays for the upcoming year.

Finally, the doorbell rings and a driver hands you a gigantic bag of food. You and Mac devour the meal. When you’re both finished the dinner, you look at him and say, “hey, ummm…I’m sorry that I doubted you today. It’s been a super strange day but throwing to you this afternoon has been the highlight of my football career!”

“I feel you, QB1!” he says. “I’m loving it also. I’ve never been this connected with a quarterback. I can’t wait for the season to start.”

You fumble for your words, “Um, so, um, well…do you want to, um, you know, fuck me again tonight? It might help us get even more connected out there.” 

He nods, “alright, if your ass is up for it, dude.”

Before you know it, you’ve assumed the position in the bedroom and Mac is about to stretch you with his huge schlong again. You feel a mixture of excitement and dread as you slide your legs wider for him. Then he fucks you like his bitch.

The next three months go by like this. You and Mac focus all your energy on football except when you bend over and let him pound your ass. At long last, the summer ends and it’s time to report to preseason training camp with the team.

You’re ecstatic to walk into the Panther’s facility on the first day with Mac. The whole building is buzzing with expectation for the upcoming season. The first few hours are filled with mundane administrative tasks, but it’s great to be together with all the teammates and coaches.

Before lunch, you and Mac find yourselves in line outside the team doctor’s office for a routine weigh-in. When the doc calls you, you jump onto the scale. You expect to see 205 on the screen, but the screen lights up with 214. The doctor looks at his clipboard with a furrowed brow. “Hmmm, Sam, you gained some weight, huh? And I see some abnormalities here on your blood workup.”

You’re a little annoyed. You worked your tail off for the past months. You should be in the best shape of your life, but you can’t ignore the feeling that you’ve gotten a little pudgy.

Mac clears his throat behind you. “Uh, hey doc, can we talk in your office?”

When the office door closes, you see that Mac has an alarmed look on his face. He nervously glances toward the doctor and says, “you need to give him a pregnancy test.”

The white-haired doctor looks at you and simply says, “well fuck, guess that would explain things.”

Your mind spins in circles as the doctor rummages through a cabinet. Why in the hell do you need to take a pregnancy test? What could it possibly reveal?

The doctor waves a small box in the air, “found one!” then he pulls a cup and strip from the box. “Go pee in the cup, ok Sam?”

With trembling hands, you step across the hall into the men’s room and urinate into the cup, then you drop the strip into the cup and bring it back to the doctor. Mac hovers over the doctor as the doc pulls the strip out of your urine to examine the result.

Mac looks over to you, “oh dude, I’m so sorry! We should have used condoms, I guess.” You feel frantic as you try to understand what’s happening, then you yell, “WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?”

They both ignore you as the doctor high fives Mac and says, “congrats, dad! How ‘bout a cigar later?”

Finally, the doctor addresses you, “alright Sam, sit down, I’ll explain.” You sit in a chair in the corner while your foot taps frantically.

The doc begins explaining in a gruff voice, “Sam, this is going to be hard to hear, but…well, you’re pregnant. You’ve got a baby in there.” He points to your slightly pudgy abdomen. “I’m assuming you’ve been having sex with Mac, right?

You just stare back, unable to speak, so he glances to Mac who nods and says matter-of-factly, “yep, daily.”

“So, you’re going to ask how this is possible, right? Well, honestly, we don’t know exactly why, but some men who are very fit, like yourself, are able to get pregnant from other men. It has something to do with elevated testosterone, so we see this more frequently in NFL players compared to the general population. It happens once or twice a year across the whole league.”

Then it hits you. How can you play football if you’re pregnant? Your dream season is over before it even started.

The doctor rummages through his desk, then pulls out a piece of official looking paper. “So, Sam…here’s the deal.” He waves the paper at you. “Position players are prohibited from playing when they’re pregnant because of risk to the baby. When it happens, we makeup an injury so they can take the year off. But, uh, this memo here from the league says that the next quarterback to get pregnant can play…if he wants.”

Mac asks, “It’s safe, right? Like, what if he gets sacked by a big D-lineman?”

The doctor continues, “they actually developed a special device. It’s like shoulder pads for a pregnant belly. The baby would be well protected.”

Mac claps, “alright then! Sam, let’s go-oooooo!”

The doc says one more thing, “I highly suggest you give it a shot, Sam. The device was well tested when Tom Burgandy was going through this a few years ago. Someone needs to be the first. Might as well be you, kid.”

PART 2

“Whoa, whoa, you’re telling me Tom Burgandy was pregnant?” you finally ask.

Mac and the doc stare at you like you have three heads.

Mac says, “of course man, he carried Cronk’s baby. Everyone knows. It’s like an open secret.”

The doc continues, “the league was going to let him be the first quarterback to play pregnant, but he backed out at the last minute.”

Mac jumps in, “ya, why do you think they both retired? And Jelissa divorced Tom when she found out about it. Tom loved Cronk more than her.”

You shake your head. Fuck, how did you never see this? Of course. It’s so clear now.

The news that you’re pregnant is alarming, bizarre, and somehow kinda cool at the same time. Knowing that your idol, Tom Burgandy, went through the same thing reassures you.

The next days are a whirlwind. You get fitted for the special tummy-protecting device, practice lots of football, and have an ultrasound appointment with your newly assigned OBGYN.

You also spend a lot of time with the Public Relations people for the Panthers and the NFL. Coming out as the first pregnant male football player requires a carefully honed rollout plan.

Your teammates are incredibly supportive of your unique situation. You were initially worried that you’d be ostracized, but the opposite is true. Your pregnant belly has become something like a mascot for the team. They even rub it for good luck before each practice.

Before the first game, your agent tells you that Tom Burgandy’s people reached out to coordinate a phone call between the two of you. You can’t believe that you’re getting a personal call from the best quarterback ever to play.

He starts, “hey Sam, I’m a big fan! Good luck out there this year. I think great things are in store for you, man. Some of my records might be in jeopardy, haha. And more importantly, congrats on your baby! Cronk and I are so excited for you and Mac. I would say that I’m jealous, but Cronk and I just found out that we’re expecting again, so I’m just a few months behind you. I can’t believe I’m already showing.”

For some reason, you can’t control your emotions and start sobbing tears of joy. Your OBGYN said to expect stronger emotions due to the hormonal changes, but you didn’t know that the news of Tom’s baby would be the trigger to set off your waterworks.  

For a second, the phone is quiet, and you worry that he’s judging you for crying. But then you hear sobs coming from his side of the phone. Eventually, you both pull it together and he clears his throat.

“Oh man, nothing like a good cry!” He goes on, “man, I think what you’re doing is so brave, being the first pregnant player. I wish I had tried, but at my age we ultimately decided it wasn’t wise due to the increased risk factors. But Sam, you’re going to love the rest of your pregnancy, enjoy it! Oh, and a little advice…stay on top of your birth exercises. Labor is tougher than any football game…especially when your kid has a Tight End’s gigantic head…oof!” You thank him for the call and smile, content as a pregnant man.

The first regular season game is nearly perfect. Of course, you let Mac bend you over before the game. When your team is announced, you run through the tunnel before your teammates, then each of them runs out and embraces your pregnant belly. The crowd loves it.

Then you take the field and complete 23 of 28 passes as the Panthers handily defeat the Miami Dolphins. The next games proceed in the same way and the Panthers suddenly have five wins and zero losses. Most commentators consider the Panthers the best team in football.

By game seven the additional weight you’re carrying has become a tangible burden on the field. You’re now 226 pounds and you look like a marshmallow in your uniform with your jersey draped over your protruding belly and thick pads.

You used to be known for your scrambling abilities. You were fast and nimble on the field, able to make plays with your legs as well as your arm. Now, though, your coaches only draw up standard passing and handoff plays for you. It doesn’t matter though. Your connection with Mac enables you to make implausible throws that baffle defensive backs. And since the other team must place all their attention on Mac, they leave other receivers wide open. You’re off to a record-breaking start, leading the league in all major statistical categories.  

Your biggest advantage, though, might be your offensive line. In your pregnant condition, they look at you like their knocked-up little sister. There’s nothing these big, strong, fat men wouldn’t sacrifice to protect you from the defenders. As a result, your gravid body has barely been touched by the opposing teams.  

You’re humbled at how well the season is going, but you also love pregnancy. You’re beginning to feel flutters of the baby kicking in your womb, reminding you that there’s a life forming inside you. Your mid-term belly has caused some changes in your sex life also. Instead of bending you over doggystyle, Mac has started to fuck you in the missionary position. It’s splendid, being able to wrap your legs around him and look into your Tight End’s eyes as he enjoys your plump and curvaceous preggo body.

After the eighth game, Mac joins you in the team’s weight room on a quiet Tuesday afternoon after practice. “Hey man, ummm, I have something to ask you.”

You shrug, “ok,” while finishing a set of shoulder press.

He clears his throat. “So, the rest of the receivers and tight ends came to me yesterday. And they think they could play better if they were more, um, you know, connected with you.”

You realize where this conversation is going. “You mean they want to have sex with me also?”

He waves, then says sheepishly, “well, kinda. Ummm, they were actually thinking about, uh…a gangbang.”

“They want to fucking gangbang me? And you’re going to let them?” you shriek.

He shrugs again, “ya, I think you need to do it. It’ll help the team. We won last week, but we were a little rusty.”

You huff and roll your eyes, beginning to imagine what being the subject of a gangbang might be like.

Then you hear a noise outside in the hall. You stare closer at the crack in the door and realize the receivers are waiting outside, listening to your conversation. They look like a pack of hungry hyenas, stalking you like their next meal.

You turn back to Mac in fright. “Oh man,” you protest, shaking your head.

Mac says, “we’re going to use the trainer’s room. There’s a comfy table in there for you. Don’t worry, I told them they had to be careful. You’re pregnant with my baby girl after all.” He reaches out and strokes your belly.

“Right now?” you interrogate.

“Yep, they ain’t going to wait, man,” he replies solemnly.

Shortly, you’re lying on the padded trainer’s table completely nude. Mac gently places a small pillow under your head. Your pregnant male belly extends high into the air. You look around nervously at the 9 other men in the room. They’ve formed a circle around you and they’ve all pulled out their cocks. Each dick is erect and enormous, like Mac’s. You shudder at what’s about to happen.

Mac steps between your spread legs and says, “alright boys, listen up. You gotta be careful, but honestly QB1 can handle a lot and he likes it a little rough.” He slathers lube onto himself, then grabs your legs to position your body for penetration. He caresses his fingertips down your inner thighs and rubs circles all over your big baby tummy. You quiver in delight, knowing what comes next.

Then he breaches your opening with his bigness and your body stretches to accommodate him. His moves make you sigh in pleasure, “hoooo-ooooo!” Then he starts vigorously humping into you, getting even deeper on each push. Over the past months, he’s become an expert at bringing you pleasure and knows exactly where to press. You can’t contain your delight, “heeee, hyyyyy, ha-ha-ha-ha, heeee, hyyyyy, ha-ha-ha-ha.”

You’re totally ashamed to let the receivers see you like this, lying on the bed and submissively taking Mac’s dick like his bitch, but you accept that it’s worth it to help the team get closer to a Super Bowl ring.

Mac gives the onlookers more instructions, “see, just like this” as he models how they should hump you. He informs them, “and feel free to touch the belly, QB1 likes it.” He reaches out his big hands and fondles your jiggly belly. Then he says, “oh, and QB1 loves it when you angle up like this.” He jabs his cock upwards on the next hump, slamming into your g-spot. Your body jerks and you cry out in pleasure, “hiiiyyyyy, mmmm, MMMMM!”

Mac repeatedly thumps directly into your g-spot, making you squeal, “hee, hee, hee, hee!” Then he says, “hey Sam, um…Alec and DeAndre were hoping for oral. You ok with that, dude?”

Before you can respond, Alec, the team’s top wide-receiver, steps closer, puts his hands behind your head, and starts easing his massive cock towards your mouth.

You start to protest, but Alec moves quickly and begins stuffing his dick between your lips. You open wide, consenting to giving your teammate a blowjob. You’re overwhelmed with sensation, being fucked down below by Mac’s anaconda while Alec’s meat fills your mouth.

Alec forces himself into your throat, making you gag momentarily. He gives you a short break, then plunges himself deep again, making you gurgle.

You concentrate on accommodating the big dick in your mouth, but then the sudden sensation of Mac cumming inside you breaks your focus and you gag on the meat again, making a choking sound.

Another receiver takes his turn between your splayed legs and thrusts the full length of his rod into you. His dick is warm and big, but it feels different than Mac’s. You adjust your body slightly to accommodate the new angles. He’s not as talented as Mac but you manage to enjoy his steely penis. Soft moans emit from your dick-filled mouth. “Ehhhh, Ehhhh, Ehhhh, Oh! Mmmm, Mmmm! Oh!”

Then Alec’s dick spasms in your jaws. If feels like a gallon of gooey mess surges into your mouth. Some of it dribbles down your throat and you swallow. You spit the rest out.

The receiver between your legs pulls out and shoots thick jets of cum onto your baby bump. Then another takes his place between your spread legs and DeAndre slides his dick in your mouth. You’re stuffed full again.

The onlookers start chanting, “Q.B. ONE! Q.B. ONE! Q.B. ONE!” as they each take their turn with you. Your ordeal finally ends 50 minutes later with your rotund pregnant body covered in cum. You’re physically drained, but you know it was worth it to help the team.

The next game is your best yet. You blowout the Chicago Bears 63 to 10. Every receiver catches at least two passes, and you set a Panther’s record, throwing for 489 yards. A new tradition is born with you agreeing to let the receiving corps gangbang you once a week between games.

After winning the 14th contest of the season, you’re at home enjoying a Monday evening off from practice. You stand in front of a full-length mirror and admire your heavily gravid form. You turn sideways and look at your profile view and gawk, amazed at how big your abdomen has grown. Then you face the mirror and use a finger to trace the dark line that’s appeared on your lower belly, the linea nigra. The line perfectly accentuates the attractive, delicate curve of your soft tummy.

Suddenly, you’re startled by Mac’s muscular arms softly wrapping around your baby bump from behind. You gave him a key to your luxury apartment weeks ago, but you didn’t hear him arrive tonight. He moves to caress your belly with sensual strokes as he ogles your gravid nudity in the mirror. He asks with his deep voice, “are you ready, Sam?” You hungrily say, “yes baby, I’m so wet already. I neeeeeed you Mac.” You lay on the bed on your side and hold your huge tummy in your hands. You lift one leg into the air and let Mac’s rod enter you from behind while he holds you in a spooning position.

After he puts a hot load of cum in you, he continues holding you and whispers, “hey, uh…Sam.” You can tell he’s uncharacteristically nervous. “Hey man, I was wondering. You know, since the baby is, like, both of ours, do you want to, you know, move in with me?” You cuddle closer to him, feeling wholesome. He continues, “my house has everything the kid could need, so uh, what do you think?” You wholeheartedly agree.

The regular season ends with the Panthers seventeen and zero. The sports world is abuzz about the possibility of the first perfect season since 1972, and the entire world is talking about the pregnant quarterback who’s leading the team.

You sit down during the bye week for a nationally televised interview with reporter Marisha Traylor. Ironically, she’s several months pregnant, sporting a small baby pooch under her tight purple pantsuit. Your 8-month belly looks colossal as you sit across from her dainty bump in the studio.

Marisha: “Hi, Sam, thank you for being with us today. I’d like to start by asking how you’re feeling. Most moms and pregnant men are ready to start nesting at home at 8-months pregnant, but you’re still playing football at the highest level. How do you do it?”

“Hi Marisha, thank you so much for having me here! And congratulations on your bundle of joy. Ya, I’m feeling great, and the doctors say this baby girl is perfectly healthy.” You cuddle your arms around your expansive womb. “I certainly feel the nesting urge and I’m more lethargic than normal, but I love football. I’m driven every day to perform at my best for this city and my teammates, regardless of my condition. Even if I do have to pee every 15 minutes!”

Marisha: “Hehehehe, I hear you about the frequent bathroom breaks. But, wow, what you’re doing is incredible. I want to ask you about your decision to play football this year. I understand there’s a protocol that would have allowed you to skip the season and have the baby out of the spotlight, but you decided to step out and be the first man to play pregnant. Why?”

“Well, at one level, I love football and couldn’t bear the thought of not playing. But at a deeper level, I wanted to bring light to male pregnancy. Because male pregnancy is not very common, I really wanted to show other pregnant men that they’re not alone and there are other people out there going through the same things. I also want to take this chance to thank the fans who have been so wonderful in accepting me as a pregnant man. I don’t think I could do this without their support. And, of course, my teammates have been so supportive. We’ve shared some really intimate moments this year, and I can’t thank them enough for their kindness, especially my buddies on the receiving corps.” You wink into the camera, knowing your gangbang buddies will appreciate the shoutout.

Marisha: “And Sam, what do the doctors say about continuing to play. Is there any risk to the baby?

“Amazingly, they believe that the baby is perfectly safeguarded by the belly protector I wear on the field. There isn’t any risk to this kiddo.” You poke at your belly for effect, making the baby kick. “OH! Hehehe, big kick there! So, ya, I’ll continue to play as long as I’m not in labor.”

Marisha: “Ok, pivoting to a personal question. How is your relationship with the baby’s father, your teammate Mac Davison? How did he handle the news of having an unplanned child?”

“Oh, Mac’s been simply wonderful. He was actually the one who realized what was happening when I started showing pregnancy symptoms. I had no idea, ha! But he was a perfect gentleman and is going to be a great dad. He’s been at my side for every ultrasound appointment, assembled all the baby furniture, helped pick out things for the registry, and he even rubs on my stretchmark cream every night.” You put your hand to your mouth, “oh, maybe that was too much information, hahahaha! But ya, I can’t imagine doing this without his support, he’s great.”  

Marisha: “Wow, must be nice to be so supported. Ahem, I hope my husband was listening! And can I ask about the current status of your relationship?

You bite your lip shyly and lift your left hand to the camera, showing off a diamond encrusted band that Mac gave you. “Well Marisha, Mac popped the question the other day. He did it in the perfect place for us…a football field. It was very romantic. I said yes of course!”

Marisha: “Oh, how exciting! Congratulations! Do you have a wedding date yet?”

Not yet, we’re too focused on the upcoming games to plan a wedding, but we’re definitely looking forward to it. 

Marisha: The next question comes from our Twitter Poll. The people voted and they want to know whose belly is bigger at this point. You or center Jaymon Kirk?

“Oh, hahahah, I didn’t expect that question. Actually, Jaymon and I have compared measurements. He’s still winning, but I’m catching up rapidly!”

Marisha: “Alright Sam, of course we have to ask a football question. Do you have any projections for the playoffs? Are the Panthers going all the way?”

“Well Marisha, the 49ers have a really strong defense, and everyone knows the Eagles are a well-balanced team. We’re going to take things one game at a time and try to play our best football and see how things go.”

Marisha: “And last question Sam, at the risk of getting too much information, can you tell us about your labor and delivery plans? We know many pregnant men opt for a c-section. Can you tell us about how you’re intending to give birth?”

“Oh, ya. I try not to think about the labor and delivery part, hahaha! My OBGYN is actually encouraging me to try a natural birth and I’ve been working hard on my preparation for labor. I want to show men that they don’t have to settle for a c-section if they don’t want to. My medical team is just obviously worried about the size of the baby because, you know, Mac is a pretty big guy and, well, you can understand the challenge.” You nod your head with certainty and cuddle your burgeoning belly again, “I just want a healthy baby in the end; that’s my focus.”

Marisha: “Well, there you have it everyone. Thanks for talking to us today, Sam. You’re a trailblazer on and off the field. We wish you and the Panthers the best in the playoffs!”

PART 3

“Hey man, you have a nice nap?” Mac asks.

You stretch, “oh, sure did!” as you sit up on the couch.

“Kelly’s still asleep. I just checked on her,” he says holding the baby monitor in his hand.

You smile, thankful that you have a supportive partner like Mac.

“So, I was wondering if you want to watch the video now?” he asks.

You’re finally ready to say yes. It’s been 4 weeks since you gave birth to baby Kelly and you’re ready to see what happened that night at the Superbowl.

“Ok, let’s see here,” Max says as he sets up the video on the TV in the cozy living room. “You want to start with the beginning?” You nod, “yep, start from the beginning.”

The recording begins with your team, the Panthers, taking the field at Allegiant Stadium in Las Vegas. As you watch, your heart begins to beat rapidly as the memory of the big game reenters your mind. You watch the screen and see yourself run through the tunnel and onto the field alone. You snicker for a second at the gigantic belly on the screen. Sitting on the couch, you silently reach down and feel your tummy. It’s still a little spongy 4 weeks after giving birth, but nothing like the gargantuan 9-month preggo belly you sported at the Superbowl.

On the screen, you stand on the field facing the tunnel and your teammates emerge one-by-one. Each one stops in front of you and pays homage to your belly. Some rub it, some drum it softly, but only Mac bends down and kisses it.

As the National Anthem plays and F/A-18s flyover on the screen, you remember the extremes of excitement, anxiety, desire, and fear you felt going into the biggest football game of your life.

Then the game starts. You watch the Denver Broncos, your opponent, score a field goal on their first possession. Then you watch your first drive of the game. You complete three passes to start the drive, then you watch in amazement at the fourth pass to Mac. He’s triple covered, but you manage to place a pass in a tiny window between the defender’s outstretched arms as Mac leaps high into the air and brings down the pass for a 28-yard gain. You look over to Mac beside you on the couch, “that was so amazing dude!” He chuckles, “yep, it was a perfect pass QB1.”

The first half ends with the game tight, the Panthers leading 24 to 20. You and Mac sit on the couch and watch Usher perform the halftime show. The music is amazing, but you recall how loud the stadium was and remember how the vibrations echoed through your big belly uncomfortably. Then you remember letting Mac passionately fuck your ripe pregnant body in the locker room before the second half started. That part was pretty fun.

You watch yourself run onto the field for the second half and remember the feelings in your belly. At the time, you thought it was just nerves, or maybe your belly protector was a bit misaligned. Looking back, you know that you were actually feeling contractions.

On the couch, you watch the play in the third quarter. You didn’t play as well, distracted by the strange sensations in your belly. After a bad possession, the camera focuses on you sitting on the bench. You see yourself grimace. The commentator questions if something about your pregnancy is impacting your performance. You remember feeling odd squeezes in your middle and the unmistakable sense that the baby was moving lower in your birth canal. You also remember actively ignoring the obvious signs of labor to focus on the game.

As you watch the fourth quarter, you see yourself in the huddle. Other people probably missed it, but you see that you’re standing with your legs spread, trying to get relief from the building pressure in your pelvis. The drive ends with a disappointing field goal for your team. The game is now tied at 34. The next possessions result in an interception thrown by the Bronco’s Russcel Wilber, a fumble by your running back, and then a punt by the Broncos.

You get the ball back 92 yards from the endzone with 2 minutes and 12 seconds remaining in the tied game. In the huddle, your teammates can see your distress. You’re honest with them, telling them that you think you’re having early contractions, but you say that the baby’s a long way from coming. You catch Mac grinning, excited for his baby to be born. You manage a sly grin back to him before the wave of another contraction sweeps through your body.

The resulting drive is difficult with several incomplete passes and small gains from your running back. With 6 seconds left in the game, the Panthers have only made it to the 48-yard line. It’s too far for a field goal, so you must try for a touchdown on the next play or the game will go to overtime. In the huddle, you call a pass play. Your primary target will be Mac, but you have 2 backup receivers and the running back also available. You also call a secondary play. You’ll use it as an audible if needed. The secondary play is a quarterback scramble to the left. The play will expose your body and put the baby at risk.  Mac yells, “no way!” but you brush him off. “Just do your job and block if I call for the audible,” you say decisively. The stadium rocks with excitement as you break the huddle.

At the line of scrimmage, you see the defensive backs and safeties are playing far down the field. They’re willing to give up a short gain in order to prevent a touchdown. It’s a perfect setup for your quarterback scramble.

You scream, “White eighty, White eighty….” Then your body launches into a new contraction. You feel your belly tense mightily, making your knees shake. You whimper to yourself as your teammates glance back, wondering why you’re hesitating. You feel a jolt of pain in your pelvis, but you gather your strength and scream, “Alert, Alert!!!” This indicates that you’re switching to the secondary play. Then you tap your helmet, letting the team know that you’re reversing the play and will scramble to the right, away from the big linebacker you identified on the left side of the field.

The center snaps the ball into your hands as your contraction starts to letup. For a second, you hold the ball like you’re going to throw, further disguising your intent. Then you tuck the ball under your right arm and take off to the right side of the field. Your gigantic belly sways from side to side and bounces as you plod along. You’re so much slower compared to your pre-pregnant form. As you pass your right tackle, you turn your momentum up field towards the endzone. You can clearly see the 11 defenders who are determined to stop your run. The crowd noise is unfathomable.

You move your legs as quickly as possible, but it’s frustrating how slow you are with the big baby weighing you down. A defensive end gets close to you, but Alec, the receiver whose dick you suck weekly, pushes him out of the way and you get 10 yards closer to your goal. Then a safety gets close to you. In the corner of your eye, you see Deandre, who also cums in your mouth weekly, closing in for a block. You intuit that he wants you to fake the defender right, then cut left. You follow his plan, enabling him to perfectly block the safety.

As you try to will your legs to run harder, another squeeze grips your belly. You can’t help but grunt, “UHHHH,” as you run. The pressure between your tired legs moves downwards from your pelvis and into your crotch as you try to focus on the goal line. Somehow, the crowd has managed to get even louder, encouraging you to continue.

More defenders try to stop you, but you’re so connected with your teammates, that you perfectly coordinate with them like they’re pawns protecting their attacking queen on a chessboard. Eventually, you’re 11 yards from scoring, but you see the big right linebacker on a collision course that will cut you off before you reach the endzone.

You decide to take him on headfirst, determined to get the ball across the goal line. He’ll undoubtedly cream you, but you don’t have another choice. Your womb continues to squeeze relentlessly as you brace for impact with the hulking football player. Suddenly, you see the big linebacker disappear like he simply vanished. Then you see Mac beside you. Your teammate, your lover, your baby’s daddy, your fiancé, has eliminated the threat by hurling the linebacker 10 yards to the side.

You cross the goal line with no time left on the clock and you spike the ball with vigor. Mac lifts you onto his shoulders and your teammates circle around to celebrate as the crowd roars.

Before you know it, you’re on a stage with your head coach, teammates, the Panther’s owner, and the NFL commissioner. They hand you the glistening Lombardi trophy. It’s heavier than you expected. You enjoy the trophy for a second, then give it to your teammates as the crowd continues to cheer.

A fine-looking reporter, Elise Anderson, puts a microphone in front of your face. “WOW! Sam, what an ending! Was that last play something you’ve been working on all year?”

You smile, “wow, ya, what a play! Honestly, no. I was simply responding to what the defense gave me. We called a pass play in the huddle, but when I saw the defense, I changed the play. And wow, my teammates blocked perfectly. It’s a testament to how close we’ve gotten this year. It’s like we can read each other’s minds on the field.”

The commissioner hands you the Most Valuable Player trophy. Elise continues, “ok M.V.P, we have to ask, how are you and the baby feeling?” Her question makes something switch in your head. For the past 20 minutes you’ve been so elated by the win that you somehow forgot about the contractions.

Your face goes blank as something strange happens. There’s a tug deep inside your womb, then a pull, then a feeling like a pop. You can almost hear the sound. Then you feel a surge of incredible pressure in your pelvis that radiates into your crotch. You know it’s the baby’s head ramming lower. The feeling of your insides stretching is unusual and unsettling. 

The whole world sees a big wet spot grow in your grey football pants. Your water broke on the stage at the Superbowl. You remember the feeling, like a deluge of warm fluid suddenly soaked down your legs.

The intense sensations make you double over and throw your head back with a loud groan, “NNNNNNNN! Ho, Ho, NNNNNNNNN!” You shove the MVP trophy back to the commissioner, freeing your hands to rub your contracting sphere of a belly.

Elise asks, “um, Sam, are you ok?” You reply without thinking, “uh, I’ve been in labor since halftime I think.” The crowd becomes silent as you go on. “Oh, oh, shit this hurts!” You cradle your belly, trying to find relief.

Your vision narrows as the pain catches up with you. You don’t see Dr German, your OBGYN, leap on stage and sprint to you. You feel her soft hands rub your belly and she says soothingly, “hey Sam, can you tell me what you’re feeling?” You open your eyes and tell her, “oh, so much pressure and, UHHHHHHHHHH, I’m, HUUUUUUUU, definitely contracting.” You see her glance around to evaluate options.

Finally, she says, “hey Sam, there’s so many people in the way. We’ll be stuck here for at least 10 minutes. Um, I think I should check you right here.” You nod, so focused on labor that you don’t consider you’re about to let all of America see your nude, pregnant body.

She swiftly pulls down your tight football pants and removes your belly protector, then helps you lay back on the stage. You instinctively spread your thicc thighs wide as she kneels between your splayed legs. Your big, exposed belly jiggles and bounces from your labored breaths, then the belly undulates and ripples with the power of a potent contraction.

The doctor puts one hand on your contracting belly and when it relaxes, she pushes her hand into your male birth canal, making you exhale, “uhh, hoooooo.” You remember how big her hand felt and the bonieness of her knuckles pushing into your birth canal. 

On the couch you look over to Mac in horror. “So, the whole world saw this? They all watched me spread my legs and get fisted by my doctor?”

He’s direct, “ohh, it gets way worse.” You just shake your head. He goes on, “the networks blocked most of this on their broadcasts, but there were so many people with phones that your entire labor and delivery is all over the internet.”

You sigh, “well, I did want to show men they don’t have to settle for a c-section. I just didn’t intend to do it quite so…well…literally.”

Back in the video Dr German says, “listen, Sam. You’re more than nine centimeters dilated and fully effaced. You’re going to have the baby right here, there’s no time to move you.” You just nod, completely frightened at the idea of giving birth. She looks up to the onlookers and starts directing them. “Mac, I need you on one side. Coach, you take the other. You guys are going to hold his legs when it’s time to push. Someone get warm water and towels from the trainers. FAST! And get an ambulance ready to transport them after delivery!”

The next contractions completely overpower you. You remember the sensation, like your abdomen was being pressed down by 1000 elephants. The pain radiates through your lower back as the pressure somehow gets even more intense. Then your body relaxes, and you exhale with a, “mmm, heeeee, hoo.”

Your break is short and another wave, like the strongest cramp you’ve ever experienced, hits you. You cry out, “MMMMMM, MMMMMM, MMMMMM,” trying to ride it out until you get another break.

Dr German slides her hand into you again and you respond to the invasion with a sharp, “Uggggg, Huuuu.” She glances to the onlookers, “ok, it’s baby time! Can you guys hold his legs? Use both hands to give him a base to push against.” She reaches up and grabs a towel from the trainer and places it under your rear.

Then she addresses you, “alright Sam. It’s time. Just like we’ve talked about, you’ve got this. When you feel the urge, go ahead and bear down and focus your power down here.” She points to your red, puffy, exposed birth canal.

Mac takes your right leg into his hands and coach takes your left and they help you spread your legs wide. On the couch, you groan, weirded out at the sight of yourself so vulnerable and exposed.

Then a massive wave of pressure overwhelms your senses. For a second, you don’t know what to do. Your body guides you, and you curl yourself over your big, round belly and you push. Somehow, it’s the most natural thing you’ve ever felt. Your body was made to birth this baby.

Having the push to center your attention makes the contraction hurt less, but the feeling of your baby being slowly propelled through your birth canal is outlandishly bizarre.

When the contraction finally ends, you exhale loudly, “heeeee!” You look to Mac for reassurance, and he says, “good job, hun!” and rubs your inner thigh.   

 Dr German reminds you to breathe on the next contraction. You manage another strong push while panting, “MMMMMM, he, he, HO, MMMMMM, he, he, HO, MMMMMM, he, he, HO.”

Your next break is even shorter, and a crushing contraction takes over before you’re ready for it. You bellow loudly, “HUUUUUUU, he, he, ho, HUUUUUUU, he, he, ho, HUUUUUUU, he, he, ho.”

On the screen you see yourself shake and quiver. Your face is red and sweat runs down your face. You even manage to have a popped out vein on your forehead.

Dr German assesses your birth canal and looks above your big belly to your face. “Sam, this is a really big girl. You need to push hard!”

Her words make you mad. “I AM PUSHING HARD!” you retort. Before she can reply, your belly contorts with another contraction and your familiar labor sounds come again.

As you get a break, you turn your anger to Mac. “You did this to me! Why did I ever have sex with you! Never again. Your penis is never coming close to me again!”

Dr German says, “save your strength Sam. Another one is coming.”

The next contraction slams you, and you push hard, bearing down with everything you have. You feel progress and the baby moves closer to your exit. But the progress comes with an overwhelming sensation that your insides are being stretched to their breaking point.

Your eyes go wide from the pain and you push again, making the feeling of ripping crescendo. You yell, “I can’t. I’m splitting open!” Dr German reassures you, “everything is normal Sam. Having a baby just hurts.”

On the couch, you turn to Mac, “I see what you mean about it getting worse.” He just smirks back. You continue, “sorry that I was so loud, wow.” He shrugs, “honestly, man, it was kinda sexy the way you were bellowing.”

Back on the screen you have a break and take several pulses of deep breaths, making your tummy jiggle and wobble.

The next contraction brings a deep grunt while you push, “HUUUUUUUUGGGGGG” and then a staccato exclamation when you breathe, “hi, hi, hi, hi!” Then you push again with the same deep grunt. This time, you feel a stinging sensation in your crotch. The next push turns the sting into a fiery burning.

Mac says, “Sam, I can see her head!” His words excite your tired body, and you bear down again with a mighty push. This time, you can feel your exit start to widen for the baby’s head.

“Do you want to reach down and feel?” Dr German asks. You don’t answer, but your left hand slides down your belly and finds your baby’s head that’s pushed you partially open. “Oh, oh my gosh!” you exclaim before a contraction makes you bear down again.

Your body pushes hard, and you shake from the effort. You grunt as usual, “GUUUUUUUHHHH!” then you recover with a “HI, HI, HI, Haaa!”

The next push spreads you a little wider, but then you have three excruciating contractions without much progress.

Dr German is focused on your birth canal, but she says, “this is a really big baby. Can you guys widen his legs more?” Coach and Mac yank you even wider. You feel something release in your pelvis and you know the next push with be fruitful.

The next push makes the head widen your birth canal into a nearly full crown. You turn to Mac on the couch with your eyes wide. “I can’t believe I did this.” He nods, “me too dude. I wouldn’t have believed it if I wasn’t there.”

The sound of your scream pulls your attention back to the screen. You’re pushing again, making the head bulge out each time you bear down. “HAAAAAAA, hii! hii! hii!”

You remember the final push. Something deep inside gave you an extra ounce of strength and you bore down with extreme power. You felt yourself spread wider, and wider, and wider preparing to oust your big baby from your body.

On the couch, you watch in amazement at how obscenely wide the baby spread you. Then, baby Kelly shot free. You remember the moment of extreme pain. On the screen you screech, “AYYYYAAAAA!” Then the pain vanished, and baby Kelly was in your arms. In the video, an ambulance arrives, and you’re swiftly loaded up and transported to the hospital. 

You look at Mac. “Wow, honestly, I kinda blanked out most of the delivery from my memory. That was insane.” He agrees, “ya dude, sure was. You were amazing and so strong”

Then he gets a twinkle in his eye, “hey Sam, Kelly is still asleep. You wanta…you know…maybe…”

You say sadly, “Mac, I’m sorry dude. Doctor German said I’m not ready to receive yet. I know you have needs, but I just can’t right now.”

He’s a little timid, “um, Sam, I was thinking it might be me on the receiving end this time.” Your eyes go wide, and he says, “I think I’m ready to tryout that beautiful dick of yours, just…you know…go easy on me. And maybe, you know, I might even get to be the one to carry our next baby.”

Day 284

Captain Elizabeth McDaniel stood stiff and motionless, staring at the numbers on the pin pad. She wore the dark blue casual-dress uniform of a galactic space officer. She had been wearing the same style uniform since blasting off from earth 283 ½ days ago.

She stood 5 foot 6 inches tall and weighed 122 pounds. She had straight, short blonde hair and a plain, but pleasant face. She wouldn’t win a beauty contest, but that didn’t stop men from asking her out or ogling her rear when she passed.

The tight uniform revealed her petite, but sturdy figure. The top exposed the shape of her small perky breasts and her slim middle. The bottom displayed her plentiful thighs and shapely backside that protruded with an ample curve.

She was a decisive and data driven woman, but she found herself unusually conflicted. She knew her next action would begin a sequence of events that she couldn’t turn back from. It was natural, she reasoned, to be hesitant to push the buttons. She took a deep, wavering breath and forced her hand to reach out…

7 – 5 – 2 – 8 – ENTER

The bio pod that held the pin pad beeped and the upper hatch slowly opened. The pod had a blue base and a clear top. It was big enough to accommodate one human laying down inside. Elizabeth shuddered. She slipped off her shoes and stepped one foot into the pod. She swung her other foot over the blue lip and reached her hands behind her. She lowered herself, like she was sitting into a big bathtub. The soft cushions inside were comfortable on her body.

She pulled a laminated sheet from a spot near her left hand. She knew the upcoming procedure by memory, but her training forced her to follow the written checklist, no matter how simple.

#1 - Remove all clothing

She took another deep breath, then pulled the zipper of her uniform from her neck down to her crotch. Next, she wiggled the one-piece uniform from her torso, then off her legs. She reached behind her and released the clasp of her bra, then shimmied out of her plain white panties.

#2 - Execute bio scan function. If abnormalities discovered, discontinue procedure 

She pushed the bio scan button on the touchscreen inside the pod. She was still as the pod whirred. She could see several sensors moving around her, evaluating every part of her. The pod replied, “no abnormalities discovered.” Her body was healthy and ready.

#3 – Authenticate identity by pressing hand onto screen

She pressed her hand. “Captain McDaniel, identity confirmed.”

#4 – Confirm procedure

She pushed the button on the screen, Population.

#5 – Select number of specimens for implantation 

Since it was her first procedure, she knew the only approved selection was 1. She pressed the button.

#6 – Place legs into stirrups

Captain McDaniel took another deep breath and then spread her legs wide into the stirrups on the inner walls of the bio pod. She was annoyed that her body trembled slightly, exposing the emotion she always worked hard to hold inside. Despite her scientific approach to the upcoming events, she couldn’t help but feel embarrassed, and totally absolutely vulnerable in the position.

#7 – Calmly accept the procedure

Back on earth, she always laughed during training at the word calmly. There’s no way she would be calm when the real procedure began. Sure, the procedure had been tested and considered very safe. But this would be the first time her own body did anything resembling intercourse, and this frightened her virgin mind more than anything.

At the galactic academy, her entire focus had been on the demanding academics. Some of the boys tried to date her, but she didn’t have time or the desire for them. She almost kissed a boy once during a study session, but she pulled back before their lips met, embarrassed that she almost gave in to the urge.

She heard the whispers from her more popular classmates. They called her ice queen, bitchy Lizzy, her majesty, and worse. But she was driven to accomplish something. She aspired to be on the first mission of Project Aphrodite’s population ships, headed to the far reaches of the galaxy. She would setup new settlements for humans and explore the vast unknown.

The reward for her hard work and self-control at the galactic academy was this mission and 284 days of loneliness. She was the captain of the spaceship, but she was the only crew. For now.

With the checklist complete, the pod sprang into action. The top lid slowly closed, sealing Elizabeth inside. She didn’t plan to resist the procedure, but it was still unnerving to be trapped inside the tight space. The pod began to play soft music. Presumably it was calming, but it made her eyes roll.

Then she saw it. A metal arm began to emerge from the bottom of the pod. She had studied the engineering specifications and knew it was made from titanium and powered by several high-pressure hydraulic cylinders. A clear tube ran the length of the arm. The tube was connected to a special prosthetic at the end of the arm closest to her spread legs. Her classmates said it was shaped like a dildo, but she wouldn’t know. Her focus was on her goals, and self-pleasure was an unnecessary distraction.

The arm moved through a limited range of motion, completing its self-test, then it halted in place, ready. The pod announced, “please provide verbal approval to begin recording.”

When Elizabeth had been selected to be the captain of the first Project Aphrodite ship, she was ecstatic for the honor. She quickly accepted the position, but then she learned that the first ship was expected to complete an additional task. The task mortified her.

She was expected to record her first procedure. The recording would be beamed to the 49 ships that launched after hers. The galactic high command thought it was important for the other spaceship captains to know what to expect from their own procedures. Elizabeth was expected to narrate the experience as it happened to her.

She mustered her courage and simply said, “YES.”

The voice in the pod asked another question, “Are you prepared to begin, Captain McDaniel? Once the process starts, it cannot be stopped.” Elizabeth had rehearsed the next part. The pod’s protocol required a very specific reply to initiate the procedure. She knew she would hesitate if she allowed her mind to think, so she had practiced her response over-and-over, becoming robotic, “this is Captain Elizabeth McDaniel. Verified. Ready.”

Day 285

Captain McDaniel rounds the corner into the ship’s main living quarters. She’s still wearing the casual-dress uniform and her face is unchanged. However, her body has undergone an astonishing transformation.

Prominently poking out from her middle is a round, watermelon shaped belly. She’s unmistakably with child, probably about 6 months along. Her previously small, perky breasts are a little fuller and a little rounder. Her hips are somewhat wider, her thighs slightly thicker, and her walk is slow with a distinct waddle.

These visible changes are somehow overshadowed by the unseen ones. Normally a tightly wound ball of nervous energy, she’s now calm and relaxed. Her placid blue eyes betray a woman a peace with her situation, even enjoying it.

She sits down in a chair in the living quarters and places her hands on top of her bulbous belly. She looks down expectantly as if she’s waiting for something to happen.

Suddenly she takes a wavering breath, and she sits up straighter. Then she puts her hands down on the chair, steadying herself. She’s calm but, “oooh,” slips out of her mouth. As she vocalizes, her back arches and her belly presses outwards. She’s growing, expanding. The fabric of her galactic officer’s casual-dress uniform stretches to accommodate her larger features.

“Mmmmm,” she lets out, then she slowly gets up and takes two timid steps, testing her balance. She no longer looks 6 months pregnant, she’s now at least 7 months along. She rubs her tummy with genuine compassion, whispering, “hi baby, you’re doing such a good job. I can’t wait to meet you.”

She begins a deliberate walk to the kitchen area. She’s apparently starving after the growth spurt. She quickly polishes off a bowl of cereal, a banana, and an apple.

After eating, she pulls out a device and sets in on the table. After pressing some buttons, she begins to speak into it.

“This is Captain McDaniel. I just had my sixth growth acceleration, making me seven equivalent months pregnant. My body tolerated the acceleration very well. It wasn’t painful, but I can feel my belly getting very tight. I know it won’t be long now until I’m in labor. Personal note: even though the baby isn’t technically mine, I feel an overwhelming sense of love for it. Elizabeth, out.”

She pulls herself back up, then walks to her bunk and lays down for a short nap.

The beep of an alarm clock wakes her 45 minutes later. She groggily rubs her tummy, seeming to be cherishing the experience of maternity. Then she finally pulls her body to a sitting position. She braces herself for what’s coming. She’s silent as she waits. With each breath, her new ample bosom bulges outwards, showing off the growth of her mammaries.

Abruptly, she shakes and her eyes narrow. It’s happening again. This time, it’s slightly more intense. Her big tummy jerks forward and her head arches back. The tummy grows for nearly 5 seconds as she exclaims, “Goooo-ooooo-ooooo.”

She rubs her nearly full-term belly, then she speaks to it, “wow, you’re kicking kiddo! Like a little kickboxer in there. Go easy on mommy, ok?”

Like last time, she finds her way to the kitchen area and pulls out some food. This time she finishes two bowls of cereal and a double ration of yogurt.

Again, she pulls out the recording device and speaks into it. “This is Captain McDaniel. I just had the seventh acceleration. My body is very big now. My belly is so large that I can’t see my feet, and my breasts are considerably bigger than normal. The process wasn’t painful this time, but it was uncomfortable stretching to this size. Of note, I can feel the baby moving inside my belly now. I’ll be headed to the bio-pod soon to prepare for labor. Elizabeth, out.”

Finally, she nervously gets up and begins to sluggishly move towards the pod. Her belly swings left, then right, jiggling with each heavy step.

When she reaches the pod, she stops and begins pulling down the zipper of her uniform. She clears her bosom, but her big tummy is more of a challenge. She tugs to adjust her strained uniform several times before finding an angle that allows the zipper to pass over the apex of her hefty curve.

She sits on the side of the pod and pulls off her white socks, white bra, and white panties. Now completely nude, she takes a second to examine her body.

Her breasts have grown from a small b-cup to a hefty c-cup. The boobs are topped by big, dark nipples. The milkers hang lower now with a torpedo shape, ready to provide sustenance to the baby inside her. Her ample ass has widened moderately and her previously plentiful and toned thighs are now thicker and juicier. And of course, her previously petite belly is most eye-catching. It’s now round and giant, but has dropped low, preparing to expel the big baby. On her flanks, very faint stretch marks, like a tiger’s stripes, are detectable. Between her legs, the slit of her puffy, hairless vagina looks cute and dainty, not quite ready to stretch open to accommodate the big baby’s birth.

Elizabeth pulls her weighty body over the lid of the pod and lays herself into the comfortable seat. She sits there, cuddling her belly with her hands, waiting.

She takes a deep breath with alarm. Her big belly pulsates and lunges forward as she grows again. The stretch marks on her sides turn darker and lengthen as her skin expands to accept the swell. She gasps, with a hint of distress, “Ho-OO-oo-OO-o” as she continues growing for two more seconds. Then she embraces her big tummy, exploring the most recent changes in her gravid form.

She finally speaks, “nutrition, please.”

A small cabinet in the side of the pod pops open, and she takes an energy bar from it. It’s quickly devoured.

Then she speaks again, “turn camera on and begin recording.”

The pod replies, “verify camera status?”

“Verified, camera on,” she confirms.

Still devoted to procedures, she finds the laminated sheet and begins following the checklist:

#1 - Remove all clothing

She is already completely nude, so there is nothing more to do.

#2 - Execute bio scan function. If abnormalities discovered, follow recommended alternate birth plan  

She pushes the bio scan button on the touchscreen inside the pod. She is still as the pod whirrs and the sensors move. In contrast to her still body, her ripe abdomen gyrates and shifts as the active baby somersaults inside her. When it has completed its work, the pod replies, “no abnormalities discovered.”

              #3 – Authenticate identity by pressing hand onto screen

She presses her hand. “Captain McDaniel, identity confirmed.”

              #4 – Confirm procedure               

She pushes the button on the screen, Induction, Vaginal Labor.

              #5 – Place legs into stirrups

She heaves her legs into the stirrups on the sides of the pod. Yesterday she had been in the same position to conceive the child. Today she’ll be pushing like this.

Once in position, she turns her face to the camera: “Hello fellow Galactic Space Officers, this is Captain Elizabeth McDaniel. I’ve now completed eight growth accelerations and as you can tell, I’m full term with the first baby to populate my sector. In a second I’ll be initiating the protocol for vaginal labor induction in the bio pod. As high command ordered, I’ll beam the video of the entire birth and narrate my experience. I hope this will help you know what to expect from your own upcoming labors and deliveries.”

              #6 – Calmly accept the procedure

Unlike her previous procedure in the pod, she appears relaxed, even calm. She’s a woman at peace with a baby growing inside her big belly. Pregnancy is her calling.

While she waits, the pod performs several new self-tests, preparing the necessary tools to support her labor and delivery.

When the tests are complete, the pod asks, “Are you prepared to begin, Captain McDaniel? Once you are induced, your labor cannot be stopped.” Elizabeth doesn’t hesitate, “This is Captain Elizabeth McDaniel. Ready to induce labor for the first of 64 babies to populate my assigned sector of Project Aphrodite.”

The pod asks, “As you prepared to receive the Pitocin shot?”

Elizabeth calmly replies, “yes, I’m ready.” As she speaks a wave flows across her gravid, protruding middle. The baby is still busy in her uterus.

The pod says, “please hold still while your first dose of Pitocin is administered.” Within 3 seconds, a metal arm emerges from the left side and jabs a needle into Elizabeth’s arm. She winces briefly, then says, “I just received a dose of Pitocin. It felt similar to a flu shot, just a mild sting for a second.”

About 5 minutes pass with Elizabeth getting visibly antsy. Finally, she speaks, “I feel a very unfamiliar sensation, like my body is cramping. It was mild at first, but now it’s already getting quite powerful.”

The pod’s soothing voice says, “Captain McDaniel, you should use the recommended breathing profile to ease your labor pains.”

Elizabeth snaps into a focus and begins to breathe, “ho, ho, ha….ho, ho, ha…ho, ho, ha.” As she huffs, her belly continues to pulsate and gyrate from the baby’s movements.

After a bit, the pod’s sensors begin to move. When they halt, the pod announces, “you’re now 1 centimeter dilated, Captain McDaniel.”

Elizabeth updates her viewers, “Hu, oh, I feel significant cramps inside my, oh, abdomen. I can handle it, but the sensation is much more than I expected. The breathing helps, though.” She goes back to her breathing, “ho, ho, ha-aa.”

For the next minutes, she continues like this, her breathing getting deeper and heavier. As time goes on, her breaths begin to cause her belly to heave each time she exhales. Her feminine body is engaged in a truly grueling endeavor.

The pod provides another update, “You’re now nearly 3 centimeters, Captain McDaniel. The baby’s vital signs are within tolerances. Your heart rate is slightly elevated. Please try to relax.”

More contractions pulsate through Elizabeth’s body as she takes slow, wavering breaths.

Elizabeth gives another update, “the cramping feeling has turned into significant contractions now. Each time I contract, I can feel tugging and pulling inside my body, like I’m being forced opened from the inside. It’s, uh…ho, ho, ha…quite, uhhh, uncomfortable. Oh WOW!”

Between her spread, juicy thighs, her dainty vajayjay is beginning to transform. Previously a petite slit, it’s getting redder and puffier, preparing to stretch wide for the baby.

Twenty minutes later, the pod completes another check with the sensors. “You’re now 5 centimeters dilated, Captain McDaniel. All vitals are nominal.”

Elizabeth, now sweating, updates her fellow space travelers, “Wowee, this is hard. I really didn’t know it would be like this. I don’t know if I can do it. Oh, UH, I can feel everything OPENING!”

The pod announces, “please hold still Captain McDaniel, administering another Pitocin dose.” At that, her left arm is jabed again.

The impact of the dose is immediate. She gasps and her body contracts violently, causing her watermelon belly to lift into the air.

Talking to herself while she rubs her big belly, she says, “Are you kidding???? OOOHHH, how is this baby going to come out? It’s too big.”

After a bit more time, the pod speaks again, “Captain McDaniel, it is time to break your water. Please do not be alarmed.”

The same apparatus that impregnated her rises from between her thighs. It wastes no time, plunging into her spread pussy. She grunts, “gu, uh, OH,” as it pushes deep into her womanhood.

The result is an incredible spray of fluid from her opening. The pod quickly vacuums the liquid, keeping the birthing area sanitary.

Elizabeth appears momentarily relieved. Then her tummy convulses with another contraction. She tells the camera, “Omigosh, it’s like a bowling ball is trying to come through me! It’s huge! MY WOMB. Oh, HUUUU, I can do it, though.”

While she contracts, her milk-swelled boobs jiggle and bounce as she exerts.

The pod’s sensors check her again, “You’re eight now centimeters Captain McDaniel. Your progress has been rapid. All vitals are still nominal.”

She gives another update. “The pressure is mammoth. I can’t believe how full I am. I knew labor would be difficult, but this is unbelievable.”

Elizabeth goes back to her breathing. She huffs and puffs, “Hu, Hooooo, Hu, GUUUUU, HAAAAA.” Her eyes are fixed as she pants, like a woman possessed.

Fifteen more minutes pass with Elizabeth locked in an intense state of labor. Her face grows red on every contraction, and she cries each time with apprehension. Her short, blonde hair is matted with sweat.

“OH, OH, my vagina. There’s something in it. HA, HAAA, HUU, I need to push. BLOODY HELL!!!”

The pod updates again, “you’re 10 centimeters Captain McDaniel. You should begin pushing the baby through your birth canal now.”

Her belly constricts and she pulls her legs back farther. Her whole-body tenses and she bears down. Her face turns red, and she groans, “Uhhhhhhhhh.” Then she releases, “Ah, Ah, Ahhhhhhh.”

“Oh my word! It’s breaking me apart. Ho, Hu, Hoooo.”

Her body doesn’t give a break and it constricts again. She bears down and her belly bumps upwards as another groan comes from her.

She pushes eight more times.

On the next push, her vagina bulges, and a sliver of the baby’s head peaks through. She cries out, “Gaaaaa, UHHHHHH.”

She pushes once more and her pussy bulges. This time her slit starts to spread into a lovely teardrop shape.

She gives another update to the camera, “Oh, ooh, I can feel my vagina expanding when I push. I’m so full. HAAAAA!”

She pushes five more times. Each push causes her vagina to open an additional inch wider and makes her scream, “GAAAAA, Ahhh, HU.”

She pushes another time, then the pod gives another update, “you’re fully crowned Captain McDaniel. Continue pushing.”

Her vagina is fully engulfed by the baby’s head. She reaches down to examine herself. She trembles when she realizes how wide she’s spread.

She pushes again and again, screaming each time.

Between pushes, she updates her colleagues, “I feel the ring of fire. It’s like my vagina is on fire! Motherfucker!!! HA, HA, HA!”

She pushes and her womanhood bulges. This time, the baby’s head slips free, causing her to yelp, “AAAyyyyyyyyyyyyy!”

Somehow, she’s calm as the baby holds her body wide open.

Her eyes widen as she contracts again, and she cries out as the baby’s shoulders gradually spread her vajayjay even wider.

She pushes again. Her body shakes as the entirety of her feminine body’s power focusses to propel the baby from her birth canal.

She screams as the big baby slowly exits her massively spread vagina, “AHHHH, GAAAAAAA, AYYYYYY, HI, HI, Hoooo.”

Elizabeth pulls the baby to her chest. After a minute, she turns to the camera, “I did it. I birthed this baby!” Tears stream down her face, “I can’t wait to do this 63 more times!”

DAY 286

While the crying baby squirms on her chest, the pod’s utensils work quickly on Elizabeth’s birth canal and several injections poke her shoulder. She appears not to notice the pod’s work. Her focus is firmly fixed on the beautiful child in her arms.

After a few minutes, the pod announces, “Captain McDaniel, your body has been restored from your pregnancy, labor, and delivery. Please avoid strenuous activity for 48 hours, but you will be ready for the next population event in 96 hours. Please exit the pod at your leisure.” At that, the pod’s clear lid opens with a light hissing sound.

After a few more minutes, Elizabeth casually pulls her nude body upright and begins to exit the pod with the baby in her arms. Her tummy is petite again and the pregnant features of her body have vanished. The pod’s powerful restorative capabilities have returned her to pre-pregnancy form.

She softly weeps as she walks away from the pod, knowing that her next task is bittersweet. She reaches the suspended animation area of the ship and quietly slips the baby into one of numerous small vertical pods, tears streaming down her cheeks.

The small pod immediately springs into action, cradling the baby and inducing the suspended animation that the baby will be in for the remainder of the trip.

Elizabeth ambles over to find her uniform on the floor and pulls it over her naked body. She strolls to the kitchen area and pulls out a standard ration of food. As she’s eating, she pulls out her recorder and sets it on the table beside her.

Speaking into the recorder she says, “this is Captain McDaniel. I just placed the first baby into suspended animation.”

She takes a deep breath, then goes on, “I found the birth experience to be more physically challenging that I expected; it was incredibly demanding. However, I feel incredibly accomplished, joyful, and satisfied. I feel like a true woman now, having carried a child in my womb and birthed it from my loins. The birth itself was very painful, more than I expected. I could feel every centimeter of the baby thrusting through my birth canal and stretching my insides. It felt like it was a giant. It was a monumental trial, more than any athletic test at the galactic academy. And it was excruciating to push the head out of my vagina. I honestly didn’t think it would fit. However, the pain evaporated as soon as the baby came out and now I feel great after the pod restored my body.”

She sighs a little, “I feel lonely now, though. After 284 days alone it was nice to share the ship with another living being. I felt so connected with the baby in my belly. I miss feeling the kicks in my tummy and the gentle squirming. But I’ll have another one in my womb in 95 hours. I really can’t wait. Elizabeth, out.”

She finishes her meal, then rises and heads to her bunk for some much-deserved rest. She pulls the covers over her body and closes her eyes. She normally falls directly asleep, but tonight is different. She tosses and turns for a few minutes.

She sits up and bites her lip with a confused look on her face. She’s beginning to recognize a new feeling growing inside her. She’s horny, super horny. She had always managed to suppress this feeling, but after the new experiences of the past 2 days she’s a liberated woman and unable to hold back anymore.

She tentatively reaches a hand under her uniform and gingerly grazes her pulsing pussy. It’s moist from her fluids. The slickness is unfamiliar, but then she remembers the leaking fluid from when the pod impregnated her. She enjoys the feel of her throbbing pussy against her fingertips as she explores her tender clit.

After rubbing herself for a minute, she stops, pulls out the recorder, and sets it on the bed. She taps a few buttons, and a hologram begins projecting beside the bed. She presses more buttons and it starts replaying her procedure in the pod. Elizabeth watches, mesmerized at the view of herself, nude in the pod. In the hologram she says,

“…this is Captain Elizabeth McDaniel. Verified. Ready.” As soon as she says this, the arm between her spread legs slowly rises, springing into action. The pod says, “relax your body, Captain McDaniel. It will make the process much less distressing.” She’s breathing quickly, clearly nervous for her virgin pussy to be entered for the first time.

She turns to the camera, shaking slightly, “I’m so, uh, n-nervous. I’ve never d-d-done something like this. I’ve never had intercourse before. I’ve never even kissed anyone.”

The pod says, “please spread your legs wider, Captain McDaniel.’ She spreads her shapely legs wider, leaving her pussy spread and ripe for being ravished by the machine.”

The arm moves closer to her pussy. She pulls away slightly and gasps with alarm, “ah!”

The dildo shaped apparatus stops, then spurts some clear liquid onto her cunt. The pod says, “you should massage the lubricant over yourself.”

She complies and clumsily wipes the lube into her tight womanhood. The dildo softly moves up and down her slit, giving her a taste of what’s coming. She whimpers, “uh-h-h-h-h,” with uncertainty. 

The pod speaks again as her body shakes harder. “Captain McDaniel, please provide verbal confirmation that you consent to intercourse and impregnation.”

She hesitates, then says, “This is Captain Elizabeth McDaniel. I consent to sexual intercourse and my body being impregnated.”

The arm moves even closer, until the tip is touching her vulva, poised to spear into her. Her breathing turns into deep throaty gasps as she prepares her mind to be fornicated. Each breath makes her chest heave and her firm boobs bounce. Her exposed nipples have grown erect and become dark red from the increased blood flow. 

Finally, the pod counts down. “Penetration in Three…Two…One.” Her eyes go wide as the big dildo starts inching into her womanhood. She’s calm for a second, then she cries out, “Oh IT’S SO BIG! I CAN’T.”

The pod replies, “do not be alarmed. This is normal, Captain McDaniel. Your vagina will stretch to accommodate the apparatus.”

Apparently remembering her responsibility to narrate, she turns her head slightly and reports, “I-I-I can feel it inside me. I’ve never, ha, had anything inside me before. It’s making me feel, oh, so full. So much stretching!”

With the apparatus nearly halfway inside her, she huffs, “Hoooo, Hoooo, Hoooo,” as the arm pushes the apparatus farther into her petite orifice. She cries out, “that’s enough. I don’t think I can take anymore!” 

The pod replies with its clinical voice, “the apparatus was designed specifically for your anatomy, Captain McDaniel. It’s important that you accept the whole thing to increase the chances of conception.”

She struggles to pull her legs wider to better accommodate the girth, then she speaks to the viewers again. “It’s so much bigger than I expected. The stretching hurts, but…”

The apparatus slides even deeper, making her eyes shoot wider, “Ow-w-w-w-w.”

She continues “…but I like it! I want it to keep filling me!”

She arches her back, pressing her slim tummy into the air a few inches as she sighs, “Ahhhhhh-h-h-h-h.” She places her left hand on top of her abdomen, like she’s trying to sense how full she really is. 

She moans, “Mmmmmm, mmmmm, MMMM! MMMM! MMMM!” It’s vague at first, but slowly it becomes more apparent. Her splayed hips are starting to gyrate and hump back into the machine that has infiltrated her womanhood. 

On the bed, Elizabeth manipulates the viewpoint of the hologram, zooming onto her spread cunt.

In the hologram, her body has fully accepted the whole apparatus inside her pussy. The girth holds her vagina open as she reaches her fingers down and caresses her vaginal lips that are stretched around the apparatus.

The pod says, “please move your fingers Captain McDaniel, commencing copulation.”

Looking to the camera, she says, “its big…but, ha, I LIKE IT!” She is no longer shaking. 

The arm begins small movements, pulling out an inch and then pushing back into Elizabeth’s body. She gasps on each push, “HA, oh, HA, oh, HA, oh, HA.”

The amplitude of the movement grows bigger, and the gyration of Elizabeth’s hips becomes more powerful. She begins gasping more urgently, “HO, HA-A, HO, HA-A, HO, HA-A.”

She spreads her arms to her sides, trying to grab onto something, then she reaches above her head and finds a handhold. She aggressively humps into the machine now, squealing, “HE-E, UH, HE-E, UH, HE-E, UH, HE-E, UH.” Her peppy boobs lunge up and down as her body bobs with the machine’s movements.

She speaks to the camera without looking, “UH-H, it feels so good! UH-H, so good!”

The pod says, “impregnation commencing in one minute.”

Elizabeth fucks harder, letting the machine bottom out inside her on each push. Then, she cries out, “I’M CUMMING!!! HE-E, HI-I, HE-E, HI-I, HE-E, HI-I.” Each cry makes her modest titties rocket into the air and jiggle.

The pod announces, “prepare to be filled, Captain McDaniel.”

The machine slows and holds deep inside her. She moans with pleasure, “MMMMMMMMM,” and her eyes roll backwards. The clear tube connected to the apparatus surges with visible fluid. 

Elizabeth’s nude body jerks and her eyes bulge as the fluid begins to flood into her reproductive tract. It’s obvious that she’s about to accept a massive load. 

She proclaims, “I can feel it flowing into my womb. OH, it’s filling me up. OH, my uterus is inflating.”

The lower part of her tummy swells outwards an inch, then another big gush enters her uterus, and her tummy expands more. 

She continues narrating, “I feel it stretching me, but MMMM, OH, I want it! MORE!”

Finally, her carnal session ends, and the apparatus slowly retreats out of her pussy. Some of the viscous liquid seeps out of her loose hole, but most of it remains inside her. 

The pod whirrs as it examines her nude body, then it announces, “Congratulations, Captain McDaniel. You have conceived a child in your womb.”

Watching the hologram in her bed, Elizabeth vigorously rubs her clit while juices continue leaking from her sex. Reliving her impregnation is incredibly arousing for her.

She takes a brief break and then presses a button on her recorder. The hologram changes and begins displaying her pregnant laboring body in the pod. She adjusts the angle to capture her entire lower body.

In the hologram, she grunts, “GUUUU, HUUUUU,” and curls her body around her big belly, bearing down with all her might. Her vagina stretches open two inches as her body shakes from exertion.

Her round, soft belly heaves as she catches her breath. Then it constricts into a tight ball as her abdominal muscles contract, and she pushes again. Her pussy spreads even wider and she cries out, “AYYYYY-YYYYY-YYYYY.”

The baby recedes slightly into her red vajayjay, then she pushes again, forcing the baby’s head to spread her even wider. 

The head holds her open as she gets a short break. She pants, “ho, ha, ho, ha, ho,” as her body rests. Then she cries, “HAAAAA,” as another contraction squeezes her belly.

In the bunk, Elizabeth continues pleasuring herself, watching in amazement at how wide her body had opened to accommodate the baby’s birth.

In the hologram, she pushes and her womanhood bulges. This time, the baby’s head slips free, causing her to yelp, “AAAyyyyyyyyyyyyy!”

Somehow, she’s calm as the baby holds her body wide open. 

Her eyes widen as she contracts again. She cries out as the baby’s shoulders gradually spread her vajayjay even wider. 

She pushes again. Her body shakes as the entirety of her feminine power focusses to propel the baby from her birth canal. 

She screams as the big baby slowly exits her massively spread vagina, “AHHHH, GAAAAAAA, AYYYYYY, HI, HI, Hoooo.”

Between the sheets in her bunk, Elizabeth cums, crying out, “HY-Y, HI-I, HY-Y, HI-I, HY-Y, HI-I, HY-Y, HI-I.”

Satisfied, she ends the hologram and quickly falls asleep, dreaming about doing this 63 more times.