birth.... sexy

She lays next to you stroking your hair and face. You push rhythmically to get those damn eggs out, shifting from your front to your back to sitting up to kneeling down. So uncomfortable, you shuddered as your hole buldged, your body slowly giving in to birthing the first egg. Her colourful eyes watched closely, she stroked her cock as you struggled.

Did their partner guess or are they both shooketh?

And when the hind brain takes over and all they can do is grunt and groan and push for their life, gripping their partner and squatting desperately trying to widen their legs.

Does their partner help hold them steady and kiss them through a surprise orgasm as the mystery slides through their cunt?

loveeee cryptic preg so much.

you're in a little bit of denial, admittedly— something is definitely off, but you couldn't be pregnant. it doesnt make sense. doesnt fit. there's only a small little bloat that juts out from between your hips, and its not even noticeable unless you're naked. it never grows, never moves, and there's never any other symptoms—feeling tired, feeling sick, feeling an odd flutter deep in your belly now and then; it's all explainable. it all goes away.

until it doesn't.

"what- jesus, baby, what the fuck is going on?"

your partner comes home to find you kneeling on the bathroom floor, your plans to sweat your way out of the cramps abandoned as soon as your water had broken, everything clicking into place as you'd watched the fluid gushing down your thighs. you'd been dressed in nothing but your underwear and one of your partner's t-shirts—the shirt is now rucked up underneath your breasts, and you've only managed to work your panties down as far as the tops of your thighs, creating a small sliver of space for the head that's emerging from your bulging cunt, stretching out the flimsy, sodden fabric.

"'fucks it look like," you grunt. one hand clings to the edge of the bathroom sink and the other to the rim of the tub, and your knuckles turn white around them both as you let your chin fall to your chest and push. you've spread your knees as far as you can, thighs quivering violently on either side of your gaping sex, labia and perineum protuding quite significantly as the head- god, you hope its the head, you hadnt even thought to check, but then again, you hadnt even realized you were giving birth until you had the hefty mass of an infant in your vagina- slowly grinds through your birth canal. "w-we can talk... nnngh, la-aaater. gotta pushhh."

"shit. shit!"

they frantically run a hand through their hair as they shed their jacket and scramble to kneel in front of you, placing one hand on each of your thighs. "can you spread a bit wider for me, baby? maybe get your panties down? you need to let me see what's going on."

"can't," you bite out. you bring one hand down to slide your panties to the side and press two fingers inside of you, letting out a small gasp as you brush against... something. the mass is hard, and a little more exploration confirms it is, in fact, the head. and fuck, it's even bigger than you thought. was it possible you were overdue? the sheer size of it made you feel as though you had to be. "t-the head is right here." the next contraction comes with no warning, and you let out a thin scream as you bear down, your fingers sliding out of your yawning pussy in another trickle of bloody fluid. the head sits just behind the enterance of your tightly furled slit, and you grit your teeth as you stuggle to clear it through your unrelenting lips. "pus-s-shinggg."

"okay. uh, that's good, baby! you're doing really well." your partner slides their hands up and down your thighs, massaging the shaking muscles as you scream and howl your way through each push, completely lost to your animal instincts. "i'm so proud of you, love. look at you. you know exactly what you're doing. you're- oh, good push, baby! that's it!"

something finally seems to give way, and you throw your head back and shriek as the head begins to crown. "burning! holy fuckkk." the tight tissue of your pussy stretches and stretches and stretches, burning white-hot as more and more of the head slides free. "its so fucking big."

your partner gentlely eases you back onto your heels, their eyes going almost comedically wide as they get a clear view of your battered sex, gaping around a half-born, posterior, and clearly very overdue head. the width of the skull alone is at least two inches across, and even the size of the brow is massive. "it is," they agree. "and they're sunny side up, baby. its facing the wrong way, but- no, no, dont panic! its coming. you're getting it out. one more big push for the rest of the head- can you do that for me?"

you nod your head in agreement, but your body has already begun bearing down. "mmmm, coming o-out," you grunt, squeezing your eyes shut as you pause for a second to take in another breath before you shove down hard. the head lingers for a moment as your pussy stretches around the nose and then the mouth before your tissues finally give way and slip over the chin, leaving you a sobbing wreck with a giant head dangling between your thighs, cushioned only by your panties.

"oh god, oh god, oh godddd. I can't stop pushing! I can't stoppp-hnnnnnng."

your instincts are screaming at you to slow down (it might not even be your instincts- it might just be your partner), trying to warn you that you're going to tear, but the weight in your birth canal and the squirming of the unexpected infant and the stretch and the burn as your pussy opens around it is all too much to bear.

"gotta. get it. outttt."

with one final push, the shoulders and body pop free, sliding out in a massive rush of fluid. for one single breadth of a second, the room is totally still and silent, and then a thin wail rises up from the bulging stretch of your underwear, joining your own relieved sobs.

your partner laughs, leaning in to kiss you as they untangle the baby from your panties and pass them up to you between your spread thighs. "well... that was quite a welcome home, I must say."

(you don’t have to or anything, sorry, I don’t know how you’d like your asks to be set up)

The pains have been coming for so long, you've completely lost track of time. Your owner came home a while ago to find you writhing on the floor in agony, holding your round, heavy stomach. You looked up at them with your big tear filled eyes and begged them to help you. They just smiled and rubbed your head.

"Don't worry pet," they said, "you're doing just fine, not long now."

You whined in pain and confusion. It felt like you were dying, like your poor belly was going to tear itself apart. You cried and and clutched desperately at your owners leg as another pain gripped you.

Your owner moved you to a corner filled with soft blankets. They sat with you, cooing at you softly as you struggled through the pains. They got worse and happened closer and closer together. You begged them to make it stop, cried that you were dying, tried to tell them something was wrong. They just pet you and rubbed your belly and told you everything was alright. They had been saying the same thing for months. Every time your asked why your tummy was getting so big and round or why your chest was so sore they would smile that same smile and tell you not to worry.

Now the pains are coming almost on top of each other. You get barely any time to rest between them. You're crying and screaming with each one, curled up around your spasmsing belly. Suddenly you feel a horrible, insistent pressure between your legs. Something deep and primal inside you tells your to bear down with it. You do, holding your breath and straining. You feel something move inside you and the pressure only seems to get worse.

Your owner notices your pushing and tsks at you.

"don't push yet sweetheart, you're not ready yet." they chide.

"please," you beg, "I have to, have to push. Hurts so bad, so much pressure, pleeeeaasse!!" You trail off into a scream as another pain takes you.

"don't push." your owner says, a warning in their voice. "I'll tell you when you're ready."

You try your best to obey. Even through the pain and fear you still want to be good but it's so hard. Everything in you is screaming for you to push. The pressure is mind numbing. You whimper and writhe and cry, gripping your owners pant leg with shaking fingers.

"good," they say as you shudder through another pain without pushing. "so good for me, just a bit longer pet."

"hurts," you sob, "please, make it stop, hurts too much, please!"

"hush," they tell you

Despite you not pushing, whatever is inside you has moved slowly down towards your opening. That horrible, unveiling pressure so low inside you now. With the next pain you feel it begin to press out splitting you open. You yelp as your hole begins to strain.

Your owner puts a firm hand down between your legs, pressing against it and stopping the small bit of progress. You gasp and jerk at the feeling of the thing being pressed back inside. The pressure and pain increases tenfold and you cry out.

"please, please, please," you chant, "please, it hurts, so much pressure, please!"

Your body screams at you to push but the solid barrier of your owner's hand makes even trying useless.

"Not yet," they murmur to you, wiping your tears with their free hand. "just a bit longer honey, I know you can do it."

You sob but try your best to obey. After all, they know best.

Like what if you worked on an oil rig and one day while doing your rounds you find a mermaid who was injured and got separated from her pod and despite her initial hostility you decide to help her. Once she realizes you’re not trying to hurt her, she warms up to you, and you both fascinate each other so much you end up becoming friends as her tail heals and you start sneaking down to water level to talk to her every day. But then talking becomes exploring and exploring becomes fucking so you just end up having a secret mermaid buddy that you fuck that becomes the actual highlight of your day while out on the ocean at your shitty, dangerous job.

And then one day she just seems tired and off and in pain and after you pry about it she reveals to you that the reason that her and her pod were migrating is because it’s mating season and she needs to lay or she might become egg bound. Which is something you’ve only vaguely heard about, but you know it’s something that can be fatal to egg-laying creatures. So you ask her why she doesn’t just do that, and she tells you that with the way mermaids mate, she can’t lay unless she’s laying the eggs into a mate, so then you ask her what happens if she doesn’t and she reluctantly tells you she’ll die.

And like, this is your mermaid fuck buddy but she’s also your friend now and you really don’t want her to die so you ask if there’s anything you can do to help.

She just laughs humorlessly and tells you no, not unless you want to take the eggs and you can tell she’s not serious, but you’re pretty serious about having her not die so you say you’ll do it.

She doesn’t believe you at first and then she brushes you off because humans and mermaids have different anatomy and it might not even be possible and it might actually hurt you so it’s not a great idea.

You think sure, it might hurt you, but not laying will definitely kill her and you think it’s worth a shot. You point this out and she agrees after mulling it over.

This is how you find out that mermaid eggs are around the size of a plum at this point in their development and also what it’s like to have a mermaid push her eggs deep inside you as she clutches you from behind in the water, her webbed fingers wrapped tight around fistfuls of your shirt as she shakes with relief.

This is why you end up sneaking back up to your cabin dripping wet and locking yourself inside, leaning against the door as you massage your gut where you can now feel three…? hard, round lumps far beneath your skin.

This is why you spend a month carefully covering yourself in loose t shirts when you’re not wearing boots and waterproof coveralls and watching in equal parts amazement and dread as your belly starts to gently swell around the growing masses inside you. You fend off jokes about your weight gain and when you visit the mermaid, she’s equally amazed that they’ve actually grown inside you instead of just being immediately expelled.

You don’t say it to her—you manage to actually act pretty nonchalant about the whole thing—but the thought of how they’re going to come back out is definitely weighing on you, which is stupid because they’re obviously coming out the way they went in.

You’re just a little nervous because they’re just…Well. They’re definitely bigger than when they went in. When you press your hand into your belly to try to feel them, it feels like one would now fill your entire palm.

You try not to think about it, even when you feel the eggs shifting and settling uncomfortably low inside you. Even when a dull pain starts squeezing your gut at increasingly regular intervals and your belly becomes so tight over the eggs that you can almost see their outline when you take your shirt off in the privacy of your cabin at the end of the day.

You only start to when the pain becomes sharper and so much more intense that you’re forced to call your supervisor to say you’re violently vomiting all over your bathroom because that’s the only way you’ll get out of your shift.

This is when you end up pacing the incredibly short length of your cabin, occasionally stopping as the pressure down there becomes so strong you have to bite the back of your hands to muffle the sounds you make. And then you can no longer pace and you double over your low dresser, gripping its sides with white-knuckled fingers and gasping as the cramps—the contractions—steal your breath away.

You didn’t really ask the mermaid what was going to happen when you had to get the eggs back out of you. You didn’t think of trying to sneak back down to the waterline so that she could help you either. You’re regretting that now, but it’s way, way too late to do anything about it. The eggs aren’t going give you time to question every decision that got you here. They’re not going to wait until you’re ready for them to transition from being inside of you to being outside. They’re coming out now.

It takes the player far longer to realize what’s going on. He falsely believes T is birth control, and he’s been trying to bulk up, so he just believes he’s finally putting on some much-needed weight and doesn’t think much about it. By the time he realizes his coach put a baby in him, he’s already too far along to do anything about it.

Humiliated and scared of jeopardizing his sports scholarship, he goes to great lengths to hide it, eventually starting to bind his belly. It’s excruciatingly painful and hard on his joints to force his growing baby deep into his body like that, especially on the field. He’s getting so sloppy and slow and tired that he hopes Coach will just bench him, but Coach takes too much perverse joy in watching him struggle through each game.

And of course the player will end up going into labor on the day of a playoff game. He tries to tell Coach he isn’t feeling well, but with a thrill, Coach tells him to muscle through.

But he can’t deny nature, and ends up falling to his knees in the middle of a play. Timeout is called, and by the time the medics arrive, he’s collapsed onto his back with his legs splayed wide. He’s making desperate animal sounds and clawing ineffectually at his belly, leading one of the medics to discover his belly binder and start to undo it. Finally his belly heaves free of its confines, a veiny, bulbous growth that looks grotesque jutting off the frame of a slim college boy.

Even the cheap seats can see the curve of his pregnant gut tense into a hard, sharp shape, and if that left any doubt as to what was happening, the Jumbotron displays a high definition feed of the sopping wet spandex between his legs beginning to bulge.

(A request for anon that donated to my short-lived ko-fi. Thank you king 🙏)

This got me thinking of a classic medieval knight… When he’s inducted into the royal guard, his agreeable personality and keen sparring instinct make him an instant favorite among the other knights. So, it’s no surprise when one of them invites him to his bunk to blow off some steam after a long day patrolling; without much time for romancing maidens, it’s not unusual for the knights to find release with their fellows.

What is unusual is the tight, wet pussy between the new knight’s legs, and the perky little tits that bounce so cutely on his chest when he arches his back and groans to be fucked harder. Word spreads quickly through the barracks, and soon all of the guardsmen are flocking to him, aching to try him.

Our knight ends up heavy-eyed and sleepy during his long patrols, but the others cover for him—after all, they know it’s their fault he’s so poorly rested, since he spends most of his off-duty time pressed between the firm, sweaty bodies of multiple men. Especially after a battle, they often spear him open on two cocks at once, his head bouncing limply on one of their strong shoulders while he whimpers and jerks with the latest in a countless number of orgasms.

His fellow knights are gentlemen, of course, and always pull out, even washing him clean after they stripe his belly and thighs with their seed. But with so many needy, dripping cocks fucking so deep into him, it’s only a matter of time before a slight swell appears just above his hipbones, and he shyly confirms to his questioning lovers that his blood has ceased coming.

The barracks buzz with excitement, musings about who sired the child going quickly by the wayside as each one finds himself caring for the pregnant knight as if he were their husband, and his womb ripening with their own seed. Even those that are at first skeptical of a man bearing a child come around when they lay their hands on the tiny curve of his belly for themselves. As far as anyone is concerned, the child belongs to all of them.

At first, the evidence of the knight’s pregnancy is nothing but a palm-sized bump, detectable only by his most intimate partners. But soon, his growing womb fills out the tunic that was once loose on him, not yet eye-catching, but certainly visible to those who care to look. His chest, too, begins to prepare for the child, tiny tits rounding into tender breasts that must be squeezed into the confines of his chain mail. When his fellows help him out of his armor at the end of a watch, several helpers always stand by, ready to massage his aching breasts, or knead his burdened back, or press their face into his swollen pussy until his tense joints hang pleasure-limp.

His armor seems to grow heavier at the same rate as his womb, his joints straining beneath the combined weight. He struggles, too, to fulfill his duties while so much of his vigor goes straight to forming the babe in his belly. When one day he finally succumbs to his delicate condition and collapses near the end of his watch, the captain of the guard—who has gone to bed with him as often if not more than most of the other guardsman—has him moved to guard the throne room.

Standing on his swollen feet all day still exhausts him, but outside of the occasional uncomfortable shifting as his body aches and his child moves, he draws no attention to himself there. His armor manages to conceal his pregnancy even as his time grows closer—though he imagines the blacksmith who fashioned his cuirass chose its barrel shape to provide empty space for absorbing the impact of enemy swords, not as a vessel to be packed tight with a pregnant belly and milk-swollen breasts. It’s a tight fit, forcing his gut high enough that the child shifts backwards, a strain on his lower spine. They don’t take well to the limited space, protesting with sharp kicks that pinch the wall of his belly against the armor. He longs to rub soothing hands over his bump, but he wouldn’t dare do such a thing while on watch, even if he could reach his belly through the metal.

As the weeks pass, he keeps distending, his child a foreboding point of pressure deep in his pelvis. His belly begins to droop low, and he can’t keep his hands off the raw, stretched skin, scratching at fresh stretch marks and wincing at the growing web of tender veins. The other knights handle him lovingly, often appearing behind him to hold up his belly for a few minutes. In bed, their affections grow gentle, and the pregnant knight becomes accustomed to strong hands caressing his aching breasts while someone’s hard cock grinds ever so gently between his legs, not quite inside him, but giving his clit more than enough friction to have him cumming with a mewling cry.

Finally, he wakes one morning to a great pain in his gut. He screws his eyes shut and clutches the tense surface of his belly, trying to breathe through it without waking his bedmate. When it passes, he rouses the other knight, who helps dress him for his watch. When it comes time to lift his belly as high as he can and compress it against his body so that he can get his armor on, he clenches his jaw and pants through his teeth. His lover, waiting with the cuirass at the ready, asks if he’s okay. He says he will be once he’s dressed.

But that isn’t the case at all. His belly barely fits in the armor anymore, forcing the baby in and down until a terrible pain envelops his pelvic cradle, far worse than his daily aches in these last months. The head of his child feels so, so low.

He prays that the babe will wait to come until his watch ends. In response, another contraction lances through his belly and into his lower back. He barely swallows back his whimper.

But he must fulfill his duty.

A ragged breath rips from her throat as she rolls her head forward, grunting softly as her next contraction begins to build. Her legs are spread for you, thighs trembling wildly on either side of the bulge of her cunt. No head is visible yet, but her lips begin to gape and spread as her grunts evolve into a small roar, fluid leaking from her hole as she pushes in earnest.

"Ohhhhh," she groans, half delirious. "Oh, its- OH. It's comingggg." Her nails dig into the flesh of her thigh, face screwed up with effort as she pulls her leg further back. Her cunt bulges obscenely around the emerging head and more fluid leaks from her vagina, coating your fingers in slick as you reach forward to slide the pads of them over her folds. The skin is red, hot to the touch, and she whimpers as she thrusts her hips forward.

"Coming," she repeats, vouce clear with intent. And yes, yes it is. Her labia part as she shrieks with effort, exposing the smallest sliver of wet, dark hair. "I- I'm pushing. I'm pushing! I can't stoppppp."

Despite the bulge of the head in her canal, the crown of which has spread her labia to the point of turning her soft folds bloodless and white (oh, the burn must be delicious, if her cries tell you anything about the sensations she's experiencing), her shaking thighs attempt to snap shut, trapping your hand against her cunt. "Mmmmmphhh!" Her chin hits her chest as she pushes again, grinding her sore and swollen clit against your fingers. "'S it- can you- fuck! Oh, fuck. I need it ouuuuuuut."

The vice grip in her belly releases, the sides of it heaving around the shape of the child as she struggles to catch her breath. "So low," she moans quietly, comtinuing to rock her hips. "God, the stretch-."

And... well, fuck. The stretch. The burn. The teardrop shape playing peekaboo behind her lips. You brush your thumb over her clit, inhaling sharply as she whimpers in a way that let's you know she's preparing to push. "Ohhhh, its gonna come. Its coming. Its-." Her words break off rapidly, and the only sound that escapes her is a wild scream as the head surges forward. She makes an attempt to twist away from you, thighs clamped tightly around your hand as she shrieks and struggles to hold the child in.

"MMMMM, FUCK. BURNINGGGG!"

You press against the bulge of her crown, applying the smallest hint of pressure. With a small hiss, she forces her eyes open and turns to you, panting sharply as the child continues its descent. Her eyes are wild and wet with tears, and you appease her with a gentle smile and a soft kiss as you shift closer to pry her legs back open.

Completely naked, spread, and exposed, she hisses and struggles to no avail. The child sits at half crown; her clit is hard and pulsing against the ridge of its skull, and her labia are shiny with amniotic fluid and what you know to be her own arousal. Maybe you'll have a taste, you muse.

As her belly tightens once more and a groan builds in her throat, you shift your hand just slightly to completely cover her rapidly spreading hole. "Oh, you really can't stop, can you baby?" you croon, experiencing a jolt of arousal as the head surges forward against your hand. "Pushing like that? So... uncontrolled?"

"Get it out," she pleads. "I-holy FUCK, I need it out."

You wait a beat. Feel her push. Feel the head slip further out (nearly to the brow bone that time; you can hear the little noises she makes when it grinds against a sweet spot inside) and feel it retreat. Feel her go limp as she slumps back against the edge of the bed behind her, legs falling open as the bulge has become too prominent to deny.

"Oh, baby girl," you murmur, giving her clit one last gentle stroke to invoke a sleepy smile in return. She must think she's close. Poor thing. The size of the head, as well as the yet unseen shoulders, would disagree. "Is it starting up again?"

"Mhm." Roughly 15 seconds later, she hums again, reaching down to pull her legs back once more. "Mmmmm, here it comes. Oh, its gonna be out soon."

You beg to differ, but you don't dare tell her so.

Another push begins with a ragged scream that rises from the depth of her chest. "ffffFFFFUCK GET IT OUT. I WANT IT OUT."

But that was just the first pup. I still have more to go. And each one is somehow still bigger than the last.

(This is my first time doing an ask! I hope you like it! )

aw my poor puppy :( of course id do nothing to help you. just watch you squirm and heave, my gaze almost never leaving your pussy and towering stomach. id do nothing to relieve your sore cock just watch it throb. occasionally i would grab your tail and lift it to get a better look between your legs at your pathetic attempts at making progress and shoving my pup’s giant head out of you. im hard just at the thought of how many more you have inside.

Anon, your brain is HUGE

Absolutely fucking MASSIVE

You didn't mean to stare.

You really didn't.

But the scene playing out to your left was really hard to ignore.

Really, really hard.

Just like your cock, straining against the front of your swimtrunks.

At first, the crashing of the waves had covered her noises - something she'd no doubt been hoping for - but eventually, her straining groans and yelps of pain were too loud to be ignored.

She was on her front, arms propping her torso upright as she gave short, grunting pushes.

Just visible under her tail from this position was... a bubble - the amniotic sac, your mind supplied. She's giving birth.

You couldn't pull your eyes away.

She was too preoccupied to notice - or care - that you were watching as she bore down again, the sac protruding more from her, the dark shadow of the pup's nose just barely visible.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Nnnnnuggghhhh!"

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

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

"PUSH!"

he goes from circling and snarling to quiet with the occasional whine, and near dusk he finally walks off with an awkward shuffle, tail tucked between his legs and in a bit of a hurry. you figure he’s gotta go shit out his last meal or something, but you’re not gonna ponder the lifeline you’ve been given.

you didn’t bring a flashlight or a tent, and it’s getting dark way faster than you can get off the mountain. you’re gonna have to find a place to spend the night and leave in the morning. you get down the tree and start scouring the rocky cliffside in search of a cave, and you finally find one. it’s a bit big, but you can only hope that werewolf doesn’t come looking for you again. you step inside quietly, wanting to set your pack down further in where you’ll be hidden from view.

you pull your phone out for some light, and almost trip over a backpack. it unsettles you, wondering why someone might have left this here. another few steps in you see a few tent stakes, and then notice a dim light. the cave is deep. you pocket your phone, not wanting to be caught by this cave-dwelling recluse, and take a step back, but you’re stopped in your tracks by a whimper. it’s coming from the direction of the light. fear prickles the hairs on the back of your neck and your arms, but your curiosity has you in its grips. you didn’t get a photo of the beast in your panic up in the tree, and no one will believe you if you don’t.

you inch closer, around the corner, and the whimpers turn thready and panicked, fearful. finally, the cave widens and you see the source of the light and the sound.

this is the werewolf’s den, clearly supplied with camping and hunting equipment salvaged from those who wander into the area. there are layers of bedrolls and blankets to one side, a ragged chair nearby, and a rickety folding table with a dim lantern on top. and, of course, the enormous creature from before.

he’s pacing, steps frantic and tail still tucked between his legs, obviously scared, but you can’t tell what of. he comes to a halt, facing the wall with his back mostly toward you. his tail pulls out from its place between his legs, rising upward but still curled as if it’s an involuntary movement. his back hunches, and he lets out a deep, forceful grunt. nothing seems to come of his efforts, as far as you can see, and his tail quickly tucks back under his crotch. he whines and shakes his head, shuffling toward his makeshift bed. he drops onto the surface on all fours. you can see the little curve of his belly heaving as he takes in deep breaths, eyes scrunched shut.

what in the world were you witnessing? had he eaten something poisonous? did he swallow some bones and have a blockage of some kind?

you pulled your phone out, making sure the shutter noise and the flash were off, and prepared to take your video. through the focusing image on the screen of your phone, you see him widen his stance and begin to tense, whimpering again. the whimper tapers off into another deep, forceful grunt as his tail lifts and exposes his crotch again. his back hunches forward, the gentle curve of his belly clenches, and you see his perineum bulge obscenely in the dim light. he grunts again and then retches forcefully, the bulge surging forward with each clench of his abdomen. you see his labia start to part, and you get a glimpse of something dark and shiny. he stops to breathe for only a moment before grunting again, pushing with all his might, and the dark shiny surface peeks out again. he breaks off into a choked whine, pulling himself into a squat supported by his arms on the bed. his tail stays up, and he goes right back to bearing down. his progress is agonizingly slow.

you don’t know when exactly you realize what’s happening, but it’s clear by now that he’s deep in labor. his burden is well hidden by the muscle and fat and thick fur covering his body, as well as his sheer size in itself. you can only assume it must be one enormous single pup, bigger than it’s meant to be because it’s the only one. if his labor was already underway when he chased you up that tree, this must have been going on for hours.

you start to record as he collapses down onto his side, panting heavily. he bends his knees, one leg folded up on the bed and the other in the air over his side. this time, his tail stays clamped to cover his crotch as he pushes. he grunts deeply with each little push, panting heavily between the pushes. when he finally gives in and peels his tail back up, you can see there’s been no real progress. his back arches and he snarls as he pushes again, that huge head spreading him wide once more, but never wide enough. it immediately recedes as soon as he stops, settling comfortably back into his birth canal and disappearing from sight. you wonder if this will go on all night, if he’ll even be able to do it at all.